#Aged up pines twins | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellaveux · 1 year

Text

SWEETHEART | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: constant stress had filled the gaps in wanda’s life after her ex-husband left the family and balancing work and her kids had started to take a toll on her. in search of relief, wanda hires you as a babysitter, not knowing she’d be falling for you.

content warnings: minors dni. smut!!, bit of angst?, kinda fluffy towards the end, milf!wanda, mommy!dom!wanda, babysitter!reader, bottom!reader, unspecified age gap, jealousy, mommy kink, fingering (r! receiving), multiple orgasms, mutual pining.

word count: 7.81k (did not plan for it to be this long but i kinda got carried away whoops)

— note. two people requested wanda x babysitter!reader so i decided to combine both requests and make one fic! i’m very sorry for the long wait, but i hope u like it!!

You were so sweet and so delicate—something Wanda never knew she needed in her life until now. From the moment you met her, Wanda sensed something special about you—a sense of purity and kindness that shone through in everything you did. She found herself captivated by your gentle spirit, your quiet demeanor, and the way you always seemed to radiate a sense of calm and comfort. There was just something about your innocence and sweetness that tugged at Wanda's heartstrings, and she found herself wanting to protect you, to cherish you, to keep you all to herself... and ruin you.

It had been years since her divorce with her ex-husband, whom she was glad to finally be rid of, leaving her alone with her work and her love for her children. And while Wanda was a strong and resilient woman, she recently had been finding herself in a perpetual state of stress as she tried to balance the demands of her work and the needs of her twin children, Billy and Tommy. Her days were a never-ending blur of conference calls, emails, and deadlines, all while managing the endless stream of requests and tantrums from her two little ones.

Despite her unwavering determination and tireless efforts, the weight of her responsibilities often felt overwhelming, leaving her exhausted and stretched thin day by day. And although she bore this load alone with grace and composure, the weight of it only threatened to stress her even more. Her mind raced with a never-ending list of tasks and responsibilities, and the pressure of meeting everyone's expectations left her feeling suffocated. She yearned for someone to ease her burden, to offer a comforting hand and take some of the weight off her weary shoulders.

Soon, she was in search of a trustworthy and reliable babysitter to care for her precious children. As a loving and attentive mother, she understood the importance of finding someone who would not only ensure her children's safety but also provide them with nurturing care and attention. Wanda longed for someone who possessed the patience, creativity, and enthusiasm needed to engage her children in activities that would both entertain and educate them. She envisioned a babysitter who could effortlessly create a warm and welcoming environment where her boys would feel comfortable and secure.

When her colleague and close friend, Natasha, recommended her younger sister’s friend, who had said to have been looking for a short and simple job outside of college, she gladly took the offer. Her second option, which she mentioned if you weren’t able to take the job, was recommending Kate, a bubbly girl about your age who is still in college and is close to both you and Yelena, if only she didn’t have constant archery competitions going on. But Natasha was happy to explain how responsible and intelligent you were, how well you got along with children, unlike her sister, and that you were always a joy to have around. It was a brief description, but Wanda thought it best to trust her friend’s word rather than look for a complete stranger with no connections to take care of her children.

What she didn’t expect, however, when you came up on her doorstep, was how incredibly stunning you were, standing in front of her with a bag hanging off your shoulder and a charming smile as you looked up at her. Your bright smile and youthful energy seemed to radiate from your very being, drawing Wanda's attention like a moth to a flame. You were beautiful.

And of course, you thought the same of her. When you arrived at Wanda's doorstep for the first time, you were struck by the sight of the elegant woman before you. Wanda was wearing a sharp, tailored suit that accentuated her curves and highlighted her poise and confidence. You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as you looked at Wanda, who seemed to exude a sense of maturity and wisdom far beyond her years. You admired the way she carried herself with such grace and elegance, her movements smooth and fluid even when she was just opening her door. You were captivated by the way Wanda's green eyes sparkled with intelligence and warmth, and the way her smile seemed to light up the entire room. To you, Wanda was a vision of beauty and sophistication, a woman whose presence commanded attention and respect.

“Hi, Ms. Maximoff, I'm (y/n),” you greeted her with a pretty smile, trying to hide the fact that you were undoubtedly intimidated by her presence. “I’m Yelena’s friend.”

“Oh, please, you can just call me Wanda,” she returned your smile and shook your hand softly. “It’s nice to meet you. You can go right ahead and settle in. I’ll call the boys down in a second.”

As Wanda welcomed you into her home, she couldn't help but notice the way your fitted clothing hugged your curves, accentuating your feminine form as you walked in with a gentle sway of your hips. It was only a skirt and a loose sweater, but she still couldn't deny the thought that you were young and sexy, with her eyes falling slowly down to your ass as you walked, which sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. Wanda tried to push aside these thoughts, focusing instead on the importance of finding a reliable caregiver for her children.

She quickly introduced you to Billy and Tommy; the boys immediately took a liking to their new sitter, especially when you mentioned playing video games with them. As Wanda watched from a distance, slowly collecting the things she needed for work, she marveled at how effortlessly you seemed to connect with her children, engaging them in playful activities and genuinely caring for their needs. She was confident that you’d do a good job taking care of the boys, just from the first half hour or so of meeting you.

Wanda felt disappointed as she walked out of her house, wanting to go back in there and talk with you and learn about you, but she chose to ignore her thoughts and head to work without any delay. She then met Natasha later that day and immediately thanked her for finding someone like you to take care of the kids. She also might’ve left out the fact that you were incredibly attractive, and to be fair, she had been thinking about you for the rest of the day.

And the many days after that.

The first night she came home to you, you had been on the couch of her living room, studying with your nose in a textbook you had brought along with you. It was late at night—a little past eleven—and thankfully you had already put the boys to sleep long before she arrived.

“Oh, Ms. Maximoff! Welcome home,” you greeted her as she walked through the door. “I got the boys to go to bed early tonight, so they’re already ready upstairs.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” she smiled and set her bag down on the couch next to you before leaning in to look you in the eye. “And it’s Wanda, remember?”

She couldn’t help but smirk when your eyebrows rose for a moment, your cheeks turning pink as you looked up at her and said, “Right! W-Wanda… How was work?”

“It was alright.” Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Mostly tiring. I really appreciate you being here... for the boys, I mean.”

“It’s really no problem. I should be the one thanking you for the opportunity.”

Wanda stared at you. The soft curve of your cheekbones, the delicate arch of your eyebrows, and the way your full lips curled into a gentle smile all made Wanda's heart flutter. She couldn't help but appreciate the way your features seemed to blend together perfectly, creating a face that was both striking and alluring. And her name just rolled off of your tongue in a way that made Wanda’s insides tingle, and your voice gave her a sense of calmness. It sounded so pretty coming out of your mouth, and it only made Wanda want to hear it over and over. maybe in the comfort of her bed.

“I—um, I should probably get going,” you said, suddenly growing nervous under a stare before standing from your seat and cleaning up your things as you went. “I’ll be here around the same time tomorrow, but if you need me to come earlier, I can! I only have two classes tomorrow morning, so...”

Wanda smiled at you again and said, “Same time is good, honey.”

“Okay,” you nodded, lips curving upwards as you backed up towards the front door, clutching your books closely to your chest. “Same time.”

"Drive safe," was the last thing you heard her say that night.

You spent the next month taking care of Wanda’s kids each day after your classes. And Wanda was thankful. She’d often pick the boys up from school when she’s not working in the afternoon, take them home where you arrive shortly after they do, and stay with you in the comfort of her home until she has to leave in the evening. You’d stay until she came back late at night, coming home to a cooked dinner made by you, which did wonders for her beating heart.

Sometimes, when the nights grow late and the boys have drifted off to sleep, she’ll ask you to keep her company as she winds down for the night before you leave, and you never have the intention of turning her down. Each night, she gets out of her blazer, throws it over the couch, then unbuttons a few extra buttons of her top. She does it all in such a sensual way, you notice, and you can’t help but stare. At times, she’d get close, placing her hands on your hips when she wanted to move you if you were in the way or something, and it tingled, feeling her touch each and every time. Of course, Wanda does it for the sole purpose of that, wanting to rile you up with her actions to see how they would affect you, and it always amuses her.

“Care to join me?” She says with a small smirk playing on her lips, already making her way to the kitchen where you left a wrapped dinner for her.

You nodded eagerly and followed her into the kitchen, watching her reach for one of her bottles of wine on her counter.

“Mind getting two glasses for me, sweetheart?”

Blushing deeply at the endearment, you turned away to do exactly as she said. Obedient girl. When you reached the cabinet and opened it to retrieve two wine glasses, Wanda found herself holding her breath, her eyes fixed on your body. She couldn't help but think how sexy you looked, with your delicate features and your gentle smile, and your eyes shining with an innocent twinkle that made Wanda's heart race with anticipation. Her eyes followed your every move, drinking in the sight of you with a sense of longing and desire that she struggled to contain. She battled her inner thoughts, hiding the fact that she just wanted to grab you, taste you, shove her tongue down your throat, and make you moan against her.

When you turned back around with only one glass in your hand, she frowned slightly and said, “You don’t want to have a drink?”

“I still have to drive back to campus,” you say reluctantly, not particularly liking the fact that you had disappointed her a bit.

But she only smiled and said, "Right, of course."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a sense of desire as she watched your figure move towards a seat at the table with such fluid grace, her eyes tracing the curve of your hips and the gentle sway of your hair.

You spent most of your nights like this, talking to Wanda late at night after she came home from work. And it’s lovely. She never forgets to compliment you, whether it was how you looked or how amazing you were at taking care of her boys, and loves it especially when you talk about your day, your voice filling her ears along with a sense of calmness to ease her tired head.

But oftentimes, Wanda found herself unable to focus on any conversation with you. Every time you laughed, your body shook with a gentle ripple, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to your every movement, her eyes tracing the curve of your hips and the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Your voice was soft and soothing, your words flowing like honey and filling Wanda's heart with warmth. As you talked, Wanda found herself getting increasingly distracted, her mind wandering as she imagined what it would be like to hold you close, to run her fingers through your hair, and to taste your sweet lips.

“Wanda?”

"Hm?" Wanda hummed in response, trying to mask the fact that she had struggled to listen to you while you sat there in front of her, looking so delectable under the dim lights of her kitchen.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you continued slowly, dragging your sentence out. “But, what happened to your husband?”

Wanda only smiled at your question. She figured you’d be curious, and you wouldn’t be able to keep that question unanswered in your head forever. But she was comfortable with you. comfortable enough to tell you enough of what happened. He didn’t die or anything. And it wasn’t a great story—not that long, either. It was truly simple, and she guessed that was why it hurt even more when it happened.

“He didn’t love me anymore,” she said, watching your face closely. “There’s not that much to it. He found someone else, fell in love with her, then left me and our boys to go and start their own family. I wish he had been strong enough and loved me and the boys enough to keep this family whole… He wasn’t.”

Wanda spoke with a practiced detachment, trying her best to hide the raw emotions that still lingered beneath the surface. As she spoke, she noticed your eyes growing misty with tears, and she knew that her own pain was mirrored in your heart. But despite the deep sadness that threatened to overwhelm you both, Wanda couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in your gentle presence.

“I’m sorry.”

“Everything’s okay now, sweetheart,” she smiled lovingly at you, reaching out to wipe away your tears. She felt a sense of warmth and tenderness wash over her, and she knew that she was falling in love with you even more.

“The boys are strong,” you tell her, melting at the touch of her thumb against your cheek. “They’re strong like you. I couldn’t even tell that they’ve gone through that much heartbreak already... They don’t show it.”

“They come to me from time to time to let it all out,” Wanda replied, pulling her hand back to take a sip from her glass of wine. “They are strong… and I’m proud of them for it. But, I like it better when they come to me, as painful as it is to see them cry. Although, I haven’t been home enough lately to be there for them.”

You frowned slightly at her last sentence, “You’re an amazing mother, Wanda. Your ex-husband made the biggest mistake of his life when he left you. And your boys are smart; I know they understand. With what they’ve been talking to me about, they’re only worried that you might overwork yourself. Oh, and they said you need a vacation.”

A light chuckle erupts in Wanda’s throat. “Oh, I could definitely use one.”

Wanda smiled as she stared at you, your presence pleasantly washing over her, and in that moment, Wanda realized that you were more than just a pretty face or a sweet voice. You were a source of comfort and strength, a gentle soul who could soothe even the deepest wounds with your kindness and compassion.

The days after were none other than similar, with you following the same routine with Wanda: taking care of Billy and Tommy, cooking dinner, studying for a bit, playing with the kids for a bit, then Wanda comes home, and you keep her company for the night. It all feels amazing. Wanda loved coming home to you, and you loved it when she did, always anticipating the moment she walked through her front door.

With each passing day, Wanda found it increasingly difficult to hide her emotions and desire for you. Every time she saw you, her heart skipped a beat, and she just couldn't help but feel a sense of longing that she couldn't ignore. When you arrived at her doorstep each day to take care of her children, Wanda found herself staring at you a little too long, taking in the way your hair fell around your face, the way your eyes sparkled in the sunlight, the curve of your waist, and your legs when you walked. She always tried to keep her composure and act like a professional, but her desire for you was becoming harder and harder to hide. She’d find the tiniest excuses to touch you, to be able to put her hands on you—like tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking over your shoulder when you’re working on something, or keeping her hand on the small of your back when she walks with you.

She especially almost lost her mind when she arrived home early in the evening one day and you said something that made her knees almost give out as she stood in the living room.

“Boys, why don’t you show mommy what you made at school?” you called out from the living room.

And in that moment, Wanda’s eyes narrowed and she almost wanted to pounce; she wanted to grab you by the neck softly and demand that you repeat the very name that made her stomach flutter. Whenever you said it, Wanda felt a warmth spread through her body, and her heart swelled with pride. She loved the way you said it. She didn’t know where it came from or why you started referring to her as that when you talked to her boys, but it sounded so perfect coming from your mouth, so natural. It was like you knew how much it affected her, so you made sure to say it more often, finding new ways to incorporate it into your conversations.

Even though Wanda knew that it was just a term of endearment, and you probably said it to all the children you’ve babysat before, Wanda couldn't help but feel special and cherished every time she heard it. It was a small thing, but it meant the world to her, and she looked forward to every opportunity to hear you say it again.

Wanda’s recent joy didn’t last, unfortunately. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Wanda was just about to leave for work, slipping into her heels near the front door, when you delivered some news that she didn’t know she didn’t want to hear.

“I don’t think I can make it this Friday,” you tell Wanda, nervously playing with the hem of your sweater.

“That’s okay, honey,” she smiled in return, hoping that it would help ease your anxiety. “What’s going on on Friday? Exam?”

For a moment, you almost wanted to lie, but unsure as to why you should even keep the reason from her, you decided to tell her anyway. You’d figured she’d find out from Natasha at some point and wouldn’t want to be guilty of dishonesty when the time came when she would realize why.

“I... have a date.”

“Oh.” And just like that, her smile faded in a blink of an eye.

Wanda felt her heart sink as she took in your words, letting her know that you had to cancel your babysitting appointment for the evening because you had a blind date. She tried to push down the disappointment she felt, reminding herself that you had a life outside of the arrangement and that she couldn't expect you to be available all the time.

But deep down, Wanda couldn't shake the feeling of distress. She had sensed something between you two—a spark and desire—that she couldn't ignore. And now, as she imagined you going out with someone else, she felt a pang of jealousy and longing that she couldn't quite explain. She tried to tell herself that it was silly, that she was just projecting her own feelings onto you, but she couldn't help feeling disappointed that you and her wouldn't be spending the evening together.

“I see,” Wanda nodded, grabbing her car keys swiftly from the foyer without turning to look at you. “I hope it goes well.”

That was a lie. Even you knew it was. She then left without saying another word, leaving you and her boys alone in her house.

To be fair, you didn’t even want to go on this date to begin with, but Yelena was nothing short of convincing. It didn’t help that Kate had been on Yelena’s side when she mentioned scoring a blind date for you, all without your permission or any warning at all, recommending you to this other person they thought you’d like. You guessed it was a nice thought, that your friends were just trying to help, but honestly, you just didn’t want it. You’d said you weren’t interested at the start, but they did nothing but insist. Especially when it had been centuries, according to them, since you worked on your love life.

And so here you were, on a Friday night, sitting across another woman at a table in some local Italian restaurant near the main campus of your university. You had walked with her into the city, as it wasn’t that far off to begin with, out in the cold of the night, already wanting nothing more than to go home.

As you sat across from the other woman, you couldn't help but feel bored and disinterested in everything she had to say. Your mind wandered over to Wanda, the woman you had been babysitting for, the woman who had occupied your thoughts almost every second of the day, and the thought of spending time with her instead filled you with excitement. You couldn't help but think about how much more enjoyable your time would be if you were sitting in Wanda's living room, sipping wine, and talking the night away. You felt guilty for feeling this way, but you couldn't deny the pull that Wanda had on you. The thought of being near her made your heart race with excitement. Sitting across from your date, you couldn't help but wish you were somewhere else, somewhere you truly wanted to be—with Wanda.

And you honestly tried.

You tried to make polite conversation by feigning interest, but your mind always wandered back over to Wanda. You couldn't help but think of the way she looked at you, how she touched you in ways that made your skin tingle, or even how she looked when she wore her suits every day going into work—so confident and beautiful. You tried to focus on your date, but the images of Wanda kept intruding into your thoughts, and you found yourself wishing you were back at Wanda's house, with her hands all over you, her lips kissing you, and everything naughty. You fidgeted with your napkin, trying to shake the thoughts of Wanda from your mind, but they persisted, and you found yourself longing to be with the woman you desired rather than sitting across from this stranger.

When you returned to Wanda’s house, you immediately noticed how distant she had been getting over the next few days. She no longer drank wine and talked with you at night after she would arrive home; instead, she’d greet you briefly, then retreat to her bedroom and go to bed. Sometimes she’d completely ignore you, like brushing right past you in the kitchen without uttering a word, then leaving for work after saying goodbye to her boys and telling them to behave.

And your heart ached because of it.

Soon, you got tired of it. The way she ignored you. The way she looked through you. It made you feel both livid and dejected. You wanted to yell at her. So, after a few days of the same treatment from Wanda, you decided to work up the courage and talk to her.

“W-Wanda,” you called her, nervous eyes boring into her back as she halted her descent up the stairs.

It was dark out—about thirty minutes past twelve, you would say—and Wanda had just arrived home with that same tired look in her eyes. She greeted you with that same short greeting she had been giving you the last couple days, and each time you heard it, you wanted to cry.

Wanda turned around, meeting you with restless eyes, “What is it, y/n?”

You paused. Suddenly, everything you had practiced saying in your head had drifted away, leaving your mouth open with no words for it to fall from. You stood in her living room awkwardly as she waited for you to say something. Soon, she noticed your eyes had gotten glossy, with tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

That made Wanda’s eyebrows rise in concern. She stepped down from the stairs to walk closer toward you, asking, “Is everything okay?”

“No,” you confessed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Y-you... you,” you tried to get out, struggling to find words for a moment under Wanda’s intimidating stare. “You ignore me. You barely look at me anymore. You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t touch me. And you don’t even notice me when you come home.”

“What are you talking about? I notice you—“

“No, it’s different now. You’re different. You treat me like I’m invisible.” You ran a hand through your hair as you spoke, letting your frustrations out. “Why do you do that? I didn’t… I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Wanda listened intently as you poured your heart out in front of her. You were careful not to raise your voice, not wanting to wake the kids up, but truthfully, it was difficult to do so when you wanted to yell at Wanda for making you feel this way. Finally, a tear rolled down your cheeks, and, without a second thought, Wanda immediately brought her hand up to wipe it away with her thumb, the same way she did that night when she told you how her ex-husband left. You were full of emotion and love, and Wanda wanted it all to herself.

Wanda stared at you for quite a while, and you stared back, confused, unlike her, who seemed to have numerous thoughts running through her head. Then, for a moment, her eyes fluttered down to your lips.

“Wanda, what are you—“

And with a soft, gentle touch, she leans in and presses her lips against yours, pouring all of her feelings into the kiss. She sighed against your lips, moaning at the taste of you. It's as if the world stops spinning, and in that moment, there are only the two of you. The taste of your lips against hers ignites a flame within Wanda, who steps closer towards you until her face is pressed up against yours, leaving now space in between. Wanda groans when you let her hands roam your waist and when you wrap your arms around her neck, and she leads you up the stairs, still kissing you, eventually leading you up to her bedroom.

Wanda's bedroom was a unique mix of chaos and order. The room was cluttered with her unmade blanket spread out on the bed and piles of books stacked on the floor, but it was still neat and organized. The queen-sized bed was made up with crisp, white sheets and a fluffy comforter, and the nightstand was clutter-free except for a lampshade that cast a soft, dim glow in the room. The darkness outside made the light seem even more comforting and inviting. It felt intimate and warm, as if it were enveloping you in a soothing embrace.

Her room was at the other end of the hall, far from the kids, thank God. But Wanda made sure to shut the door, pushing you until your back was against it, muffling your moans with her mouth, and drinking in each sound of your voice as she touched you all over.

“You’re so damn intoxicating, (y/n),” she said, moaning as she littered kisses down your neck. “I can’t control myself when I’m around you.”

Wanda’s heart melted at how you clung to her with your arms wrapped around her neck and your hands gripping tightly on the jacket of her suit. There was nothing but the sound of your breath filling the air as she continued to kiss you. She dragged her lips to your earlobe and smiled smugly when you shivered, noticing you were sensitive there. She darted her tongue out and licked behind your ear, trailing it down to your jaw.

You opened your mouth wide when she sucked on your neck, but she immediately pulled her head back to kiss you again, muffling the sound of your delicious moan.

“Mmph—Wanda,” you mumbled.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Wanda said against your lips. “I’m going to need you to be quiet for me, baby. Can you do that?”

As much as Wanda wanted to hear you scream and moan while she made you feel good, she didn’t want to wake the boys up with all the racket.

You nodded eagerly at her question and gave a tiny sound of affirmation, causing Wanda to smirk down at you. Obedient girl. The hands that gripped your hips moved towards the hem of your shirt, pulling it off and over your head before throwing it onto the floor. You wore a white, lace bra that cupped your tits perfectly, and Wanda couldn’t help but bring her hands up to palm them, groping them as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against her bedroom door.

“My perfect, little angel,” she whispered, hands groping you over your lace bra.

Wanda then leaned forward, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around her waist before carrying you over to her bed and laying you down against her mattress. And fuck, you looked amazing. She didn’t know how she managed to control herself in the beginning when you looked so fucking sexy like this. There was only so much her brain could fantasize about, and seeing you in person like this, with your eyes begging for her to take you, god, she was going to lose it.

Her hands placed themselves under your thighs, spreading them slightly so that she could fight right between them. Her fingers traveled slowly up your skirt, feeling the plush flesh of your smooth thighs. As she played with your skirt, she dragged her lips down from your neck to your collarbones and down to the valley of your breasts, teeth nipping softly at your skin, making sure to leave marks and pretty, purple bruises as she went. Feeling you squirm underneath her was one of the best feelings she had ever felt. She moved her hands from your thighs and then brought one up to your white bra, unclasping them from the back and letting your gorgeous tits out with a slight jiggle. Wanda hummed deeply as she took your nipple into her mouth and sucked.

“Wanda,” you breathed softly, hands burying themselves into her hair.

“No, baby,” she smirked and brought her other hand up, wrapping it around your neck. “You’ve got a better name for me, don’t you, darling?”

“W-What?” You breathed against her, gripping tight on her shoulders.

“My other name, sweetheart,” she says, smiling into your chest before looking up toward your face. “You know what it is. Say it. I wanna hear it from that pretty mouth of yours.”

You blushed deeply, making her lean up to place butterfly kisses all over your reddened cheeks.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl?”

You nodded eagerly, “Yes, I want to be good.”

“For who?”

You stared at her when you opened your mouth to say, “Mommy...”

“Mm, that’s right, sweetheart,” Wanda said, seemingly unable to fight the wicked grin from appearing on her face, staring down at you with hunger in her eyes.

She took your breath away once more as she leaned down to kiss you, moving her mouth against yours with breathy moans falling from both of your tongues. It was a softer kiss this time—so gentle that you almost thought you were dreaming, wondering still if this was even all real. It became very real when you felt Wanda’s hands hike up your skirt, feeling the fabric of your pants between her fingertips.

And you were embarrassed. Soon she’d see and feel how wet you were, aching too much between your legs from the friction you had been wanting to ease since you had laid eyes on her. You groaned and moved your hands to the collar of Wanda’s suit jacket, trying desperately to pull it off her shoulders, but she wouldn’t have it. Instead, she grabbed your wrists and moved them above your head.

“Keep them there,” she said, her voice firm and demanding, leaving no room for any protests. “Unfortunately for you, sweetheart, you’ve been a bad girl.”

You furrowed your brows and huffed out in frustration, “How?”

“You know, I really don’t like sharing.” Wanda said before placing a quick kiss against your lips and staring down at you with an expression that shook you to your core, “But, you decided to go out and share what belongs to me... on that little date you went on.”

Your eyes widened, immediately wanting to explain everything, “Wanda, that was just—“

“I don’t want to hear it, (y/n). Right now, just focus on me. Only me.”

Her fingers brush over your clothed sex, running along the wetness of the fabric, causing you to twitch slightly against her. You looked so delectable like this. She just wanted to eat you right up. Soon, Wanda’s fingers pressed harshly against your clitoral area, rubbing it in tight circles, only to make you whine into her shoulder. You looked so pretty like this. Honestly, she could almost come from just the sight of you like this. A sly smile adorned her face as she played with you. Pictures of you and a stranger filled her thoughts, recalling what that date looked like in her head—you dressed up all pretty, that beautiful smile you showcased as you laughed, that innocent twinkle in your eye, the sound of your voice, and your fleeting touches—all for someone else.

The dim light of the lampshade on her nightstand cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating your face and casting shadows over the curves of your body. Her hands carefully dragged the fabric of your skirt down your legs, and you were left in nothing but your panties. And Wanda could drool at the sight of you. You suddenly felt shy under her stare, being the only one naked in the room with her still fully clothed in one of her sexy suits, and you just wanted nothing more than to reach out and help her out of it.

“Tell me,” she whispered, leaning down to the crook of your neck to inhale your sweet fragrance. “Did she see you like this? Did she fuck you?”

“What? No, Wanda, I—“

She stopped you with a kiss, groaning into your mouth as her hands moved to cup your breasts. “Try again.”

“She didn’t, mommy.”

“Good. Now, open,” Wanda smirked lightly as you opened your mouth wide enough for her to slide two of her fingers into your mouth. “Get these wet for me, baby.”

You did exactly as she asked. Twirling and running your tongue all over her fingers, making them slick with saliva, You could hear Wanda sigh in satisfaction as you did your work, and she watched every second of it. She wondered what else you would take in your mouth for her—her strap. But that was for another night, she supposed.

Soon, she pulled her fingers out, replacing them in her mouth once again. Her tongue entered your mouth with ease, and you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of her, knowing her lipstick smudged against your skin. Her wet fingers traveled down the trail of your skin, all the way down to where her fingertips met the lacy fabric of your pants and slipped into them. Wanda pulled her head back to watch your face contort into an expression of euphoria as her slipper fingers massaged your clitter. It was heavenly. And you were perfect.

Unable to wait any longer, Wanda pushed two of her fingers into you, moaning against your neck as she felt how wet and tight you were around her fingers. When your arms dropped from above your head to hold onto her shoulders, Wanda allowed it to happen, falling in love with the way you held on to her as she fucked you. She wanted to start slowly, in truth, but as soon as she felt your hands in her hair and on her shoulders, as she heard your breathy moans, she just couldn’t help it. She pumped and pumped her fingers into you, turning you into the prettiest, shivering mess she had ever laid her eyes on. It turned her on so much.

“I—Mommy, I’m going to—“ you tried to say as quietly as you could.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” she said, smiling adoringly. “Keep your pretty eyes on me.”

The pad of her fingertips continued to press against your sensitive walls, pumping air in and out of you with a delicious squelch. Wanda dragged her lips against your chest until she popped one of your nipples into her mouth and sucked hard. Everything she did made you squirm underneath her. And god, you were so sexy. Wanda felt like she was looking at an art piece—the way your body moved, the colors of your skin under the dim light, the lines of your curves fitting perfectly against her. So perfect. Her sweet girl.

Finally, the first orgasm crashed in waves throughout your entire body, legs quivering against Wanda as she slowed her movements in order to let you ride out your high. You had muffled your moan by pressing your face into her shoulder. Fuck, you were so hot. Wanda swears she came at just the sight of you coming.

“My pretty baby,” she said. “So perfect.”

And you try to take a moment to breathe, to catch your breath before anything else could happen, but it is too late to stop her. Wanda pushed a third finger into you, your jaw dropping as you felt your walls stretch around her digits. The pad of her thumb rolls over your clitter in tight circles, pressing onto your sensitive bundle of nerves with no mercy.

It almost felt like she was testing you—testing your limits, how far you could go, and how well you could hide your moans. It was by no means easy, especially when she started pumping all over again, making the grip on her shoulders tighten. You pulled desperately at the fabric of her jacket, and Wanda didn’t even care if you were to eventually rip it accidentally. Hell, she’d be proud of it.

You jolted under her touch, arching your back and pressing your front against hers as she fucked you. She watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you lost yourself in pleasure. You almost wanted to pull away because you knew if you went on any longer, you’d be screaming. But Wanda had an easy solution for that problem. The moment you started moaning helplessly loud, she threw her other arm up and clasped the palm of her hand over your mouth, muffling your moans.

“Quiet, baby, remember?”

And so she pulled another orgasm out of you, and then another, and another… and another.

You looked so beautiful by the end of it; sweat rolled down your temples, your body was limp as you gasped for air, arms reaching out to Wanda as she pulled away from you for some reason you couldn’t tell given how fucked out and tired you were. She only got up to get rid of the clothes she was wearing and grab a wet towel from the bathroom to clean up the mess you made between your legs. As she did so, she fought the urge to spread your thighs, diving face first into your wet cavern, all for her to devour — but you would be screaming if she did that. Another time, Wanda thought.

After she cleaned you up, Wanda pulled you into her arms, laying beside you with your head in the crook of her neck as she smoothed her hands over your hips, your waist, and your thighs. You were still trembling slightly against her; she could feel it, and she couldn’t help but smile.

You fell asleep quickly, and as Wanda watched you drift off, she couldn't help but be captivated by you. The way her lamp shade illuminated your features, casting a soft glow on your skin, made you look ethereal. Wanda traced the contours of your face with her fingertips, memorizing every curve and angle while feeling your skin. She watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath. She watched when your lips parted slightly as you breathed, and Wanda found herself leaning in, almost unconsciously, to press a soft kiss against them. You stirred momentarily but didn't wake up, and Wanda settled back onto the pillows with a contented sigh.

As she gazed at your sleeping form, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She was right where she wanted to be.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

In the glow of the moonlight filtering in through the window, you and Wanda lie intertwined on her bed. Your bodies were nestled closely together, with Wanda's arm draped protectively around your waist. The room is quiet except for the gentle hum of your breaths as you both sleep soundly, at peace in each other's embrace. The air is warm and fragrant, the scent of lavender from the diffuser on Wanda's nightstand filling their senses. As you slept, your faces appeared serene and content, with faint smiles playing at the corners of both of your lips. And in this moment, all the worries and stresses of the outside world fade away, replaced by a deep sense of comfort and security.

Morning came soon after as the soft light of the rising sun seeped through the window, casting a gentle glow over the room, and you slowly opened your eyes, only to find Wanda sleeping peacefully next to you. A smile creeps onto your face as you gaze upon Wanda's serene and beautiful face. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness and warmth inside of you, yet you also felt a bit shy and hesitant, not wanting to disturb Wanda's peaceful slumber. The room was quiet except for the gentle sound of your breathing, and you took a moment to savor this peaceful moment with Wanda, your heart full of love and affection.

But then you tore your eyes off of her and stared at the clock on her nightstand.

“Wanda,” you said, shaking her lightly. “Wanda. Wanda, it’s eleven o’clock. The boys are late for school!”

The only response you got was a groan as Wanda stirred in her sleep, refusing to open her eyes and, instead, rolling over and pulling you close, shoving her face into the crook of your neck. You wanted to smile at the action, but you were also worried about the fact that you both slept in and that her boys were late for school.

“Wanda.”

“I already took them to school, (y/n),” she said, mumbling against your skin, voice deep and groggy.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, “You did?”

“Yes, honey,” she said.

Your stomach began to flutter, and your heart filled with warmth at the endearment, even though she had already been calling you that since you had gotten here. But after hearing it last night, you felt a surge of joy. The way Wanda says it, with such tenderness and love, is enough to make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

You also smiled at the thought of Wanda waking up early in the morning to take her children to school, then coming home and immediately jumping back into bed just to sleep with you. The very thought of it made you swoon.

Wanda held you tightly in her arms, her breath warm on your neck. You felt a warmth spread throughout your body as you snuggled deeper into Wanda's embrace. The bed was so comfortable and the atmosphere so peaceful that you wished you could stay there forever. You loved the feeling of being held by Wanda and feeling safe and loved. It was a sense of domesticity that she never thought she would experience.

“(Y/n)?”

You hummed in response, your fingers raking through Wanda’s locks.

“The date you went on... How did it go?”

You paused, wondering why that was one of the first things she thought of. After seconds of thinking, you put the pieces together. You already figured she was jealous, but it was still a bit surprising to think about.

“It was terrible,” you smiled. “I was thinking of you the whole time.”

“The date was terrible? Or you thinking about me the whole time was terrible?”

“You’re smart, mommy. I think you can figure that one out by yourself.”

Wanda let out a deep laugh against your neck, “Mmm, I like it when you call me that.”

“I know,” you smiled.

“Go on a date with me.”

Wanda pulled her head back from your neck to look at you. A smile played on her lips as she stared at you. God, you looked so beautiful. Your lips were puffy, your cheeks squished up against her pillow, and your hair was all over the place—it was adorable.

“What?” You smiled at her incredulously.

“I’m being serious,” she said, smiling back at you. “Go on a date with me.”

And for a moment there, you really did contemplate on whether she was serious or not. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were still dreaming somehow. But Wanda’s face said it all.

You tried to fight the joyous smile that was making its way onto your face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeated.

With a soft smile on her face, Wanda leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your forehead, followed by a series of playful, affectionate pecks all over your face. The warmth of your bodies entwined was comforting, and Wanda couldn't help but admire the way your soft features looked in the morning light. She placed another gentle kiss on your lips, savoring the taste of sweetness against her mouth.

Wanda’s heart swelled with affection, feeling lucky to have you in her arms. And she’ll take you on that date, making sure she's the only thing on your mind, just like you were in hers.

— navigation! | masterlist!

note. i used this proofreader thing which fixes most of my grammatical errors but it could’ve just yk not have worked, so if there’s still any errors i apologize and i also apologize a second time bc i will not be fixing them anytime soon bc i am lazy :) peace

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #avengers x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch

2K notes · View notes

pluviophile-imagines · 2 years

Note

…did u write a one shot with a line that was something like “they were 16 so they couldn’t do much” and it involved a heavy make out scene between reader and dipper on the couch? the second u mentioned aging characters up to 16 for kiss scenes i got a vivid flashback 😭😭😭

KSNDKSN hmmm I don’t think so??? I wrote one where they’re making out in the twins’ room and get busted by Mabel, & also one where the reader steals his hat and he kisses her to steal it back pfft but honestly I only remember like half of what I wrote so maybe. Or maybe it’s a fic I also read and internalized and that’s where I got my own ‘I have to age them up to 16’ thoughts ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk!

#ask.🌧#anon #once again I was 14 and fully thought 16 was like #So Grown #Practically An Adult 😭😭😭#my fav one was probably one where the twins were leaders of this like…#paranormal investigation team kinda thing n went all around the country #and the reader was like the team’s healer and had a cute little mutual pining slow burn going w dipper #there were two parts one where dipper just takes her out at night to see pretty flowers and another where she gets hurt and it’s the like #‘love interest falls asleep at ur sickbed and u wake up to them next to u’ trope #that one was actually aged up to 20 #revolutionary stuff

1 note · View note

wndaswife · 10 months

Text

meant to be yours | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Nearly eight years after your breakup with her, you meet Wanda again when she enrols her children at the preschool you work at, evoking a multitude of old feelings and regrets.

Word count: 14 245

Tags: angst, fluff, pining that is a lot more mutual than it seems to either of you, mentions of marital issues, sorority!wanda & milf!wanda (best of both worlds), doctor doom makes his grand entrance

For the last few years, all Wanda has known how to do is compromise. It was a method of survival, a way to make sure she made something of herself as she aged.

The life she had made for herself wasn’t what she’d envisioned; ever since high school, Wanda dreamed of being a journalist for a fashion line. She loved writing and fashion design although the last time she ever had any large projects with either of those passions was in college.

Somewhere along the way, Wanda became convinced that the only thing she could ever be good at was planting down exactly where she’d always been — not taking leaps of faith lest she tumble and have nothing to fall back on.

That was why she settled for a life married to her college boyfriend, staying at home most of the time caring for her two four-year-olds, Tommy and Billy. They were raised to be good, sweet boys, and though Wanda had heaps of regrets, her sons were always her greatest joys.

Victor Doom was an aerospace engineer who focused on robotics and developing other technological advancements for the company at which he worked — the household’s breadwinner.

In college he was especially well-known for being one of if not the only campus frat boy with a working brain, who in his final year helped paton tech with his astrophysics professor, subsequently earning himself a position as an engineer at a renowned corporation where he’s since been employed.

All she’d been doing since college was compromise — where to relocate, when to have children, whether or not she pursued a career. Some days she was somehow comforted by the fact that she didn’t need to do any more than live in the providing shadow of her husband, for it meant that she never had to reach for anything above, and that meant she never had to risk failing.

But other days, when she was selfish, Wanda wished she had more. She wished she had more friends, she wished she had a better marriage and a fulfilling job. Then she’d make dinner for her husband and settle around the table with him and Tommy and Billy at the end of the day and realise that she couldn’t have what she sometimes felt she wanted.

How could she?

At thirty years old with no opportunity for anywhere but forward along the path she’d always been afraid to step off of, there was nothing more for her but this.

In the morning an argument took place in the kitchen, hushed and whispered so as to keep it muffled from the twins who were sleeping upstairs. Victor and Wanda had been discussing putting the twins into the summer preschool program for some time, as the private school they were planning on enrolling them in the fall semester had an optional preschool program.

He was on board up until this morning when Wanda brought up the idea that she use the free time to get a part-time job at a local newspaper company that was looking for journalists.

Upset at her suggestion, he called her selfish and accused her of intentionally suggesting bringing the twins to preschool so she could waste time on her own self-absorbed endeavours. She tried to tell him that she felt she had to do more with herself, and that she didn’t only want to be a stay-at-home mother, especially when she had the education to pursue a career like he did.

Rationally he couldn’t understand her wanting to find a job when he provided everything and more for their family, but it was her comparison of their likeness that set Victor off and he became furious and had trouble keeping his voice down, forcing Wanda to quickly abandon the idea of applying to the part-time job to keep him placated.

He left in a frustrated state though he ended up getting what he wanted, and Wanda woke the boys up for their first day of preschool.

The two young boys had moved to cuddle up beside each other through the night, with Tommy having switched beds to sleep next to his brother.

Wanda woke the both of them, running her hands over their tiny heads and soft hair, and she watched as their little noses scrunched up and their short little arms unwrapped from each other's warm pyjama-clad bodies.

As she watched them arise, she thought to herself how lovely it would be to care for her sweet sons like this for a very long time, and she realised how not-so-terrible living a life without pursuing her other dreams would be.

“G’Morning, mama,” Billy mumbled and his mother leaned down to kiss his scrunched up little nose.

Oh, it wouldn’t be terrible at all.

In the car after breakfast, Wanda explained to the twins what preschool was and how much fun it would be to meet new friends and play games a few days a week. The boys were thrilled and their mother was relieved, for Wanda didn’t wish to abandon the plan she and her husband had made by letting Tommy and Billy skip their first day, and she knew that if she let them stay home because of their whining, they’d whine all day until their father returned home in the evening.

But fortunately for her, the twins were ecstatic.

She didn’t know until her arrival that the first day was also when the parents were allowed a sit-in to allow the children to acclimate while also giving them a first-hand perspective of their child’s first day.

From the preschool calendar, she knew the potluck was on Friday but not that the first day was practically an orientation. If she knew, she would’ve insisted for Victor to take at least the morning off to join her in it.

The forty-minute long sit-in orientation where Wanda sat on a short plastic chair along the edge of the learning carpet along with all the other parents allowed for them to see for themselves that their children would get the most out of their preschool experiences, and that they could be relied on to care for their children.

As she gathered her things that were asked to be placed atop the class desks along with all the other parents’ belongings in the back, Wanda watched as the parents around her seemed to make fast friends. She wondered if they had all somehow known each other before the first day.

In any case, she felt lonely without her husband, especially as she watched her sons socialise joyfully with the other children of the class, watching the precious sight of their children take place without her husband with her.

She carefully slipped away along the walls from the groups of quietly chatting parents as they also gathered their things until a familiar voice made Wanda’s perk up as if she was suddenly summoned by dog whistle.

Darting her eyes around the busy room, Wanda walked forward slowly as her eyes raked through the classroom behind the heap of parents between her and the voice that seemed to come from the back of the classroom, to the right, and…

Wanda’s chest tightened painfully and her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of you. It was you with your hair but longer now, your height the same as it had been, your voice that was a few slight tweaks worth’s difference from the one that had been echoing in Wanda’s mind, albeit fainter these days, ever since the last she heard it in person.

Her hand reached back and she pressed the pad of her finger into a sharp edge of the cubbies behind her, sending a sharp pain up the nerves of her finger and forcing sound through its muffled barrier and finally freeing her locked joints.

She tore her eyes away from you and stopped just before the doorframe of the classroom.

Carefully, when she had confidence in her breathing, Wanda raised her head and took another look at you.

All the different ways she’d start a conversation with you ran through her mind and she soon began thinking of all the things she’d like to say, all the things she’d like to ask you and all the things she wanted to know about how you were living your life now.

But her fingers tightened around the doorknob and she looked over to it, seeing the gold of her wedding ring reflect the classroom lights. Then she suddenly felt unbecoming and terrible about herself, so she looked back and saw her boys enjoying themselves under the watch of the preschool teachers before she quietly slid out of the class.

When Victor came home early and agreed to go pick up the boys to make up for his absence at the sit-in, Wanda quickly looked through her closet and searched for the letters she received from you the summer she was with you during which she had a three-week long trip to Saint Petersburg with her family.

As the tips of her fingers felt the base of a small rectangular box, Wanda began slowly running the pads of her fingers along the bottom until they caught onto the slim edge of an old sheet of paper.

Slowly as to not rip it, Wanda slid the paper out along the open space between the edge of the box and the other stacked mementos she’d kept since college.

Since you.

Before she opened the letter, she questioned why she’d even gotten the urge to look for it and what she was initially intending for when she began searching for it. She looked down and saw the familiar loops and lines of your handwriting and she abandoned the train of thought, slowly unfolding the sheet and raising it up so she could read it.

For some reason she felt guilty for how long it’d been since she last read from it, and the part of her from her younger years scolded her for stopping the way she used to run her eyes over every inch of your penmanship since the last time she was with you.

Anyways, Wanda read through the letter and felt an addictive pulse resounding within her chest, a lightness and a sort of prickly sharp wave that seized her throat and travelled down into her lungs.

As she let the recollection of having ever been worthy enough for this kind of love, reading the way you described how much you missed her while she was gone and how much you loved her, Wanda felt an odd sense of despair knowing such a thing could only ever exist for her through memory.

She couldn’t quite ask herself whether she was mourning the kind of love that was written on the paper or just who she received it from.

Still as she tucked away the letter and ran the tips of her fingers over the other stashed-away mementos in the box, Wanda still couldn’t figure out why she wanted to look for them in the first place, why seeing you today made her want to open the box hidden along the top back corner of her closet.

But she still sorted through it, seeing a flyer for one of your college plays in there and a music CD you put together for her, and more small trinkets all with meaning and all safely-kept through the years to keep the memory of you stored.

Downstairs, the front door opened and along came the excited footsteps of Tommy and Billy, and Wanda tucked everything back into the box and placed it back into the top shelf of her side of the walk-in closet.

Friday came around, and this time Victor did take a day off to go with Wanda to the potluck; parents and children alike from both the elementary and preschool were being invited to have lunch together for a traditional welcoming event for the start of the summer.

Since Tommy and Billy had already made a handful of friends and were by then already quite attached to the idea of playing with their friends outside the classroom, they were dressed in their very best for the sunny day.

Wanda made a conscious effort to look her best too, for she knew that today she was finally going to come up with the confidence to start a conversation with you. She tried to approach it from a professional point of view, to see it as practical if anything to make connections with the preschool’s instructors.

But she couldn’t deny the way she kept adjusting and readjusting her hair in the side mirror of the car as Victor drove them to lunch, and that wasn’t really required of her to be practical.

Tommy and Billy tugged at their father’s hands and pulled them towards the preschool, excited to show him what he’d been missing while he was at work.

There were a bit more people than Wanda anticipated though the expansive playing field of the preschool was certainly enough for the size of both the preschoolers and the kindergarteners from the private school. So she carefully slipped through the crowds and towards the potluck’s tables to set down the dish she made at home.

She saw you there too amongst a line of other parents along the edge of the table filling their plates.

You were one of the teachers’ assistants from what Tommy and Billy had told her during their many excited retellings of their days when they got back home.

Wanda inhaled sharply and kept the casserole dish in her hands as she subtly waited for the line of parents to clear so she could inch her way closer to you. She spotted a clearing on the table that was close to you and carefully set it down.

She pressed the pads of her fingers into the scalding ceramic to give herself some confidence and she looked up from the table of food, finally laying her eyes on your face within a metre from you for the first time in nearly eight years.

To seem as if she’d approached you naturally, Wanda cleared her throat a little and turned her body to face you. She tucked her hair behind her ear and parted her lips.

It all seemed like she was moving too slowly — mechanically — while the beating of her heart made her feel like she was moving too quickly — messily.

“Hi,” she said, stupidly. She got your attention at least and you lifted your head and looked at her.

It was then that Wanda felt she’d bitten off far more than she could chew as she felt herself seized by the sight of you.

Your hair was longer, like she’d seen on Monday. You looked older now, but the years had been very kind to you. She felt herself ache. You looked so beautiful, and she felt she would be trapped in this moment forever, unable to look away from you, feeling that if she had, you might suddenly disappear for another eight years.

The slight stutter in your greeting might’ve indicated to anyone else that you did recognise her and that her presence in front of you had stunned you momentarily, but Wanda, caught up and otherwise distracted by the sight of you, didn’t notice and so she introduced herself.

“I don’t know if you remember me from college, but–”

You nodded and interrupted her, “Wanda.”

Wanda hoped you didn’t notice how her eyes fell to your lips as you said her name, listening with her interest piqued the most beautiful medley of sound as it came from the way your lips wrapped around each syllable of her name.

It felt like an eternity had passed before your eyes garnered her attention again and she replied with a smile that looked relieved, perhaps because of the fact that you’d remembered her. “How have you been doing? It’s been a long time.”

“I’ve been okay,” you answered simply, almost hesitant to share your present life with a figure of your past.

You looked over to the other side of the sunny field where the twins were being carried on Victor’s shoulders. “They’re yours, right?” you asked, gesturing over to them. “Billy and Tommy.”

Wanda nodded proudly, looking over at her playing children before back over to you. “How did you know? Did they mention me?”

“Anyone who went to college with us still remembers the last name of the all-famous Victor Doom,” you said with a chuckle that might’ve seemed resentful to Wanda if she still wasn’t so taken by the sight of you.

“But, how are you?” you asked more seriously, straightening and looking at her. “You look great. What have you, uh, been doing? The last few years.”

She flushed when she watched you look down at her outfit and her hair and she fidgeted with her fingers, absently rubbing her thumb against tablecloth. “Not very much,” she answered. “I got married — to Victor, as you saw — then had Tommy and Billy.”

“That… sounds like a lot,” you said with a lighthearted laugh.

Wanda felt her heart beating against her ribs in a way that made her take in a breath to relieve the tension she felt in her chest as she listened to the way you laughed. She felt like a stupid flaky college sorority girl again.

“A lot, but not what I imagined for myself,” she confessed.

With an understanding nod, you then said, “You seem to be doing great for yourself, though.”

A cool wave of validation came over her and she beamed. “Thank you,” she responded.

“A-And, you? Are you seeing any–”

Before Wanda could finish her question, one of the other instructors, one whose name Wanda did not know, called you over. You excused yourself and Wanda completely understood, allowing you to head over to where you were needed.

Although she had chances to approach you again throughout the afternoon, Wanda instead kept looking over at you from afar between conversations with her husband or other friends she miraculously made with other mothers.

She didn’t want to press, and she was worried that the thrill of seeing you inflated her sense of reality, and she didn’t want to overstep or misread anything.

After all, the last you’d spoken wasn’t on very good terms and although the years may have done away with the wounds from what had happened, no amount of time could change a future friendship that might simply cease to exist because of the past.

So Wanda had to settle with having only a single brief conversation with the person whose letters she’d kept since college, and she left the potluck early with her husband so the boys could bring one of their friends home for a playdate.

To celebrate the start of the summer and the successful lunch, Wanda and Victor stopped at a farmer’s market that they passed in the car for ice cream with the twins and the friend they were bringing home.

As they waited in line, Wanda began to wander and eventually found herself in front of a handmade jewellery booth. She was initially looking in a solely appreciative way, not planning on buying anything but in awe of the shop owner’s talent until she laid her eyes on a pair of earrings.

She reached for them and brought them up into the light of the sun and out of her shadow so she could more clearly look at the tiny silver dolphins hanging from them. They were perhaps half an inch in size and really adorable and subtle.

The rest of her family caught up to her with ice cream in the young boys’ hands while Wanda had just purchased the dolphin earrings. She showed them to Tommy when he questioned what she’d bought.

“It’s so pretty,” Billy mused.

Wanda agreed, “It is really pretty.”

“Is it a gift, mama?” asked his twin.

“A little bit of one, maybe,” she answered with a contemplative hum then took his hand as the five of them headed back to the car together.

She’d wear it eventually.

Dolphins were your favourite animal.

That evening after the boys had gone to bed, Wanda straddled her husband’s hips in their bedroom, knees hugging either side of his lap as he guided her forward with his hands on her hips. He thrusted up into her while Wanda leaned forward with her hand flat beside his head to keep herself up.

She was too much in her head to enjoy herself — not that Victor cared whether she was involved during sex, and she couldn’t stop thinking of the letter she reread earlier that week and the dolphin earrings she bought and how pretty you looked at the potluck.

With a final grunt and a particularly harsh thrust into her that made Wanda wince beyond the mess of her hair, Victor released into her and soon untensed. He lifted her from his hips and ran his hand down the side of her bare thigh, perhaps meant to be some act of affection, before turning onto his side with a satisfied exhale.

Wanda cleaned herself up in the washroom and once she finished washing her face before heading to bed, she looked at herself in the mirror and felt something curious and desolate, so she stepped forward to get a better look at herself.

She wasn’t under any form of illusion; she was well-aware of how she’d aged over the years, from occasional periodic observations like how her skin looked a tad different in certain places.

But under the burning scrutiny of the washroom lighting, all Wanda could see were smile lines and signs of ageing and reminders upon reminders about how differently she looked from the last time she was with you in college.

Ever since she saw you for the first time in eight years on Monday, you were her landmark in time for nearly everything. She made dozens of comparisons a day, seeing how much things had changed and when the last time she thought of something was — minuscule things that seemed significant when she wondered about how you saw things from your perspective.

Tonight, she wondered how you might think of how she looked now.

She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for, but Wanda knew she’d been hoping for something because the very sight of how she looked in the mirror made her feel let-down, almost hopeless.

And you looked so pretty at the potluck.

There were things about herself that she was glad had changed since college, but she wasn’t in any way thrilled about how much she seemed to have aged.

Victor had brought it up a handful of times before, but it was only under the light of the washroom with the thought of you in mind that Wanda realised how right he was.

Wanda wasn’t sure how exactly she was feeling by the time she shut the washroom light off and went to bed, but she knew that she was certainly glad to finally pull her attention away from the mirror and to think of only you when she closed her eyes instead of her reflection.

Over the next week or so, Wanda tried her best to be impartial with how she approached driving the boys to and from preschool while also ensuring that she only behaved as any other mother would around you.

She allowed Victor to drop the twins off and pick them up without insisting she go along just to see you, and if she did catch sight of you, she’d try her best to wave only when it seemed necessary — when anyone else would’ve done it.

The feelings that buried themselves deep within Wanda’s chest ever since she first saw you nearly three weeks ago had begun to overcome her in a way that she could only rely on convention to ensure she was behaving as she should.

But after a while she began to miss interacting with you and after an amount of time she started to feel picky about how to approach you again.

Fortunately, Tommy and Billy’s birthdays were approaching and they were adamant about having you there; it gave her an excuse to start a conversation with you.

So while Wanda went to pick the boys up from school, she approached you while you were with the kids, waiting for them to get picked up by the rest of the parents as they played outside.

“Hi, Y/N,” she greeted with a smile, elated at the feeling of saying your name out loud.

She was standing on the outside of the picket fence while you were on the other side, turning to face her.

“Oh, hey!” you said and smiled too in a way that made Wanda feel like she wasn’t being too awkward. “Let me get the twins for you.”

Before you could leave, Wanda quickly interjected, “Actually, I was wondering if I’d be able to ask you something.”

You seemed the slightest bit wary and that brought about a twinge of sadness within Wanda, but she pressed on anyway; she could understand why you’d be doubtful of her intentions, even after all the years that’s passed.

“This is... a little embarrassing to ask,” she began hesitantly, “but the twins begged for me to invite you to their birthday party this Sunday, so I was wondering if you’d like to come. They talk about you a lot and I think they’d just like for their favourite person to attend.”

She probably talked too much.

“Favourite person, huh?” you repeated with an amused smile.

Wanda was reassured by your lighthearted response. “Their words,” she said.

“And their mother and father?”

“Forgotten — completely.”

You both laughed, though Wanda a moment after you as she was initially taken by the sight of sheer joy on your face, caused all because of her.

After taking a moment to seriously consider the offer, you said, “Sunday? I can’t do that day, sorry. Would I be able to drop off a gift instead on Saturday?”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Wanda reassured with a wave of her hand. “Actually, we’re having dinner with just the four of us on Saturday, so you’re welcome to join us then instead.”

You had a feeling that Wanda was sort of trying her best to have you attend something for the twins, but a part of you also felt she was trying hard just to have you there.

Though you knew you were completely free on Saturday, you took a moment before answering to look a bit less rushed in responding to Wanda’s offer.

“Saturday should work,” you confirmed with a nod.

Wanda perked up and smiled, thrilled at succeeding in inviting you over for dinner. “Alright. That sounds good.”

She watched as you pulled your phone out from your pocket and she swallowed, forcing herself not to hope too much from what you were about to do, as you easily could’ve been checking the time.

But then you asked, “Would you mind if I got your number? So you can text me the address and all.”

Wanda hoped her fingers weren’t trembling as much as she felt they were as she reached forward and took your phone with an attempt at a professional nod.

“Of course,” she managed to say, repressing the onset of an excited smile.

You caught sight of her flushed cheeks and the forming dimples as she held back a smile, but you weren’t entirely sure what it meant.

Years ago you would’ve pinned it as a flattered blush, hints of a heart tenderly-touched and a sensitive soul. But the Wanda you eventually came to know… was disingenuous.

Most things with her were.

You tried not to be bitter and childish about what had happened years ago though you were almost certain that people like her didn’t change; you had to look away.

On Saturday evening, Wanda had finished getting dressed in something casual for a dinner at home but formal enough for having a guest over, and she was standing in front of her vanity surveying the dolphin earrings in the palm of her hand.

She hadn’t worn them yet; she was saving them for a special occasion, for when she really wanted to make a gesture.

But the silver of the dolphins were too reflective and the shape of the animal would’ve been clear from even two metres away, and that wasn’t subtle enough for the steadily-budding rekindling between her and you.

So she opened her jewellery box and tucked the earrings away safely for a different time — a time she hoped would eventually come.

And most importantly, Wanda didn’t want to drive you away.

Wanda was in the kitchen putting together some drinks when you knocked at the front door, gift in-arm. She looked over at the door, feeling a fury of anxious butterflies burst in her stomach as the reality set in that she was going to have dinner with you.

Victor announced that he’d get the door and descended from upstairs where he’d been helping the boys get dressed for their very special guest.

From the kitchen, Wanda could hear you greet her husband at the door and she began to steady her breathing. She focused instead on carefully placing mint into the cocktail glasses.

“Is she… here?” she asked Victor over her shoulder in the most inconspicuous way she could when he stepped into the kitchen to check on the food.

“She’s waiting in the den,” he answered. “I told her you’d come around with drinks.”

Wanda told him it’d only be a few minutes until the rice and stir-fry would be ready, so he went back up to help finish getting the twins dressed before dinner was served.

On top of the fireplace in the den was a framed picture of Wanda’s college sorority, and leaning close to take a better look at it felt like peering into a sort of time machine. It felt like a completely different life, yet you could almost just recall things like when exactly the photo was taken as if it’d happened only months ago.

The photo was of the entire sorority coming together to take a picture before campus closed for a week for the holidays. It was during a sorority event at the city’s ice rink, and you recalled being dragged over to it by Wanda, who was your girlfriend at the time.

You were posed together near the corner of the group of other girls, Wanda’s arms squeezed around your shoulders while she stood on a pair of ice skates.

“I made this for you,” a voice approached from behind, and you turned to see Wanda walking into the den with a drink in both hands. “A mojito. But for yours, without any alcohol because I know you’ll be driving home.”

She was wearing a red turtleneck and slacks. She had an expensive-looking watch on and pearl earrings, and for the first time you considered how rich she must be now that she was married to Victor Doom.

Wanda saw the drink in the cocktail glass tremble slightly before you finally took it from her with a ‘thank you’ and she rubbed her palm down her hip nervously.

The warmth from the fireplace made her cheeks feel so warm, and the shade of the fire made your skin look so pretty and soft with the way the gentle orange flickered against your face.

“So you have this picture here,” you noted and took a sip of the mojito as you gestured to the framed picture. “Framed and up on the mantle.”

Wanda tapped her fingernail against the side of the glass as she looked at the photo over your shoulder.

Damn.

She forgot to take it down before you came, and now she looked obsessive and childish and overbearing. She would understand if you saw it that way, for there was really only one reason she’d ever have that photo up in her house, and she looked at it every single time she passed it since she moved in.

“Y-Yes,” Wanda stuttered and straightened, feeling the condensation from the glass trickle down her fingers. She smiled a little, because she was a bit proud of the picture.

She couldn’t read your expression, not when your back was turned, until you looked back at her and said in a lighthearted tone, “You must’ve not changed very much since college, huh?”

It wasn’t accusing or rude, and Wanda felt that it would’ve hurt less if you had said it as an insult; you said it as if you’d never expected her to be different.

Even if it were true that Wanda hadn’t changed since college, the realisation wouldn’t have even disappointed you.

You would’ve expected it, and that made something behind Wanda’s ribcage ache.

Her lips parted to say something, perhaps to protest, but she couldn’t figure out what she wanted to say before the shrill cheers of Tommy and Billy ran into the room at the sight of you.

Wanda stepped back and allowed them to tackle you excitedly before you set the mojito on the coffee table so you could lean down and hug them, wishing them both an early happy birthday.

She listened, partially-absent, as you told the boys you’d give them their gifts after dinner. She watched you mostly, and how little you’d changed in the way you laughed and teased.

Did it always feel like this, eight years ago?

Had she been so cruel with you that you truly couldn’t believe she was one to change after so long?

Was this the first time, out of all the inevitable others, that she realised the hurt she made you feel?

Victor called from the kitchen announcing that the dinner was ready and Wanda blinked out of her stupor to kiss the foreheads of her children and let you walk ahead first as the twins led you forward.

You looked so pretty wearing a knit pullover that made everything about you look so soft and smelling of sweet sparkling champagne.

The mojito made her a little tipsy and she felt her face’s warmth as she kept looking up from her plate and over at you across the table where you were discussing all sorts of things with Tommy and Billy, who were still practically buzzing with joy at having you over for dinner.

She watched your lips as they moved, imagined you reciting the words from the letter you wrote her years ago — imagined you meaning them like you did back then too.

Since she reread the letter for the first time in a while just three weeks ago, she could recall every word of it again like she used to be able to when she was much younger.

She felt ashamed of herself and looked away from you to spare her dignity, though it would not be the last time she did.

For most of the dinner, Wanda was silent; Victor was always more of the talker between the two of them, she liked getting to watch you without the fear of sounding obsessive, and she very much enjoyed listening to you interact with the twins without interrupting.

It was only during the gift-opening after dinner that Wanda blurted out in the middle of a conversation.

They were opening up a wrapped book to see a picture book guide of dolphins, and Wanda was only halfway into feeling shocked about the coincidence before Billy giggled and said, “You really like dolphins as much as mama said.”

“What?” Wanda all but coughed out.

Billy excitedly flipped through the book and insisted, “Mama, you said.”

“I…” She cleared her throat and her eyes flickered over to your face, half-expecting you to be furious for some reason. “I-I said what, Billy?”

“That Y/N likes dolphins,” Tommy answered and looked up from the book, now confused by his mother’s confusion.

Wanda shook her head insistently. “I don’t think I…” She trailed off and brought the rim of her mojito up to her lips to shut herself up.

Her avoidance of your eyes made her miss how you looked across the dinner table at her and her flushed cheeks.

Victor made a joke about how forgetful his wife was and although it was a tad too degrading for dinner with their children, Wanda was thankful for it anyways for it cancelled out any impending awkward silences caused by her inability to behave properly around you.

Just how much had she been thinking of you to the point of completely tuning out when she spoke about you in front of her children?

“We’ve been talking a lot about dolphins at school,” you said and wiggled your eyebrows at them. “We’re learning about our favourite animals.”

You reached into the bag and pulled out two adorable stuffed animals, a horse and a red cardinal — the twins’ favourites.

As they cheered and stood from their seats to round the table and hug you tightly, Wanda felt a mix of emotion whirling within her, a sense of shame and humiliation, but also so much adoration for you.

To the boys’ dismay, their bedtime came quicker than it felt it had and Wanda had to put them to bed. They both whined although having been given an extra hour to stay up for their birthday dinner with Y/N, but like the sweet boys they were, eventually listened to their mother’s delicate discipline.

Her greatest, greatest prides.

They were good boys.

Wanda had the twins say goodnight to you and thank you for coming, then excused herself for a moment to put them to bed. She’d come back down to see you out, but until then you promised to help clean up after dinner with Victor.

“You know, I remember a lot about you from college,” Victor told you as he handed you a glass to dry.

You placed the dry glass onto the rack beside the sink then replied, “I remember a lot about you too. Though, uh, we didn’t really talk, I think.”

“Yeah, but I talked a lot with Wanda,” he said. “And she’d blabber about you, like, every other day sometimes. So it feels like I know you well.”

Something about that made you bristle; you didn’t want to be known by Victor Doom.

When you were finished with the dishes, Victor dried his hands and leaned against the sink, scrutinising you in an odd way.

“You look good,” he then complimented.

The flicker in his eyes suddenly became perceptible, and you quickly picked up on what he was trying to inch closer to.

You eyed the front foyer then looked back over to him to continue seeing civil. “Thank you,” you answered simply.

He was tall.

Imposing.

“Are you with anyone I’d know from college?” he asked, moving the dish cloth between his fingers.

“No.”

He scoffed in teasing disbelief. “I’m not under any illusion that…” He trailed off with a chuckle, leaving the rest of his words to imagination. “Especially when time’s done you so well.”

You felt like tearing your hair out and you felt a dozen weights being lifted from your shoulders when you heard Wanda begin to descend the staircase.

“Give me your number,” Victor then asked in a hushed, hurried tone. “We’ll set something up.”

Wanda reaching the bottom of the staircase allowed you to quickly slip out of the constricting corner of the kitchen and you grabbed your things from the sofa in the den before following you out to the front porch.

Victor Doom was still a huge dick, and you were beginning to have a terrible perspective on the couple. They didn’t change at all, and you weren’t sure what you came to the dinner anticipating, but knowing that Victor was still the kind of man Wanda was comfortable being married to planted an indescribable bitterness in you.

“Thank you for coming,” Wanda said quietly as the warm silence of the summer evening soon enveloped the two of you alone on the porch when she closed the front door.

“The boys really, really enjoyed having you over. I’m sure they’ll be talking about it for weeks,” she added with a laugh.

You nodded and turned to look at her. “Yeah. It’s no problem, I really enjoyed celebrating with them. They’re lovely,” you answered.

Being in front of you now, Wanda wanted to say a lot and wanted to ask you about everything you’d been up to over the last eight years.

There was no one to interrupt now, and it would be alright and objectively appropriate to start some small talk about your life while also being able to hide her buzzing curiosity behind convention.

But all she could find herself telling you was one thing — all that she could get past her lips.

“I really… I really have changed since college, Y/N,” she uttered quietly, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb in front of her stomach.

It was important to her that you knew that for some reason.

You regarded her for a moment then nodded, and Wanda seemed relieved at what seemed to her as trust established.

The moment you stepped onto the porch, you told yourself how irritated you were at both Wanda and Victor, how unimpressed and upset you’d felt because of how little she’d changed since college.

Yet all you could think about on the way home was her.

It felt that something was gnawing at you from the inside, pricking at your skin each time it fought its way closer to realisation, but still you couldn’t figure out why you felt the way you did with Wanda.

For years the feeling had been asleep within you, unwoken and put to bed the day of college graduation when you caught sight of Wanda trying to approach you before you left the graduation ceremony.

That was the last you ever saw of her before earlier this month.

It was painful to recall the time you used to spend with her, but freeing, in a way.

You remembered how idiotically in love you were with her at the time, how naive and new everything felt. It was torturous to recall how it all ended up, but… thinking about how she used to make you feel made you feel exhilarated and you wondered if what you were doing was some sort of sick form of masochism.

All the music CDs burned for her to play when she was away from you, the letters to her written with a careful hand — all so childish that it was worthy of some form of envy.

You questioned if you were envious of the childish-like view of the world that you had when you were in love with Wanda or if it was the love itself.

Either way, it was an unreachable thing of the past.

You grew up, and Wanda…. was Wanda. She always would be.

Weeks before the actual breakup, things had begun to dwindle between you and your girlfriend. She took frequent rain checks on your plans together to be able to tend to the sorority as the end of the year was approaching and the group traditionally began recruiting for the next year before the summer.

But at the same time, your theatre was finally putting on the show they’d spent all year putting together, months of hard work spent on funding and prop and costume design — everything from the casting to the lighting crew was created from scratch since the start of September.

You understood, time and time again, that Wanda had her own priorities with her own friends and hobbies. She helped with some things where she could, and you loved when she did.

Some late nights were spent designing costumes together because Wanda had always been interested in fashion, and oftentimes she helped with those designs while you worked on putting together props.

She wasn’t a college student or a sorority girl when you spent those late evenings together — she was just Wanda. But sometimes you felt like even Wanda didn’t know who she was during those years, and that was hard to keep up with.

In spite of missing your practices and flaking on days where she promised to read over your scripts or touch up on the costumes, Wanda vowed to make it for your play’s showing.

The only issue was that on the same day there was an initiation for the new recruits, and Wanda was required to attend as an upcoming alumni.

It would end before your showing and although there’d be an afterparty to celebrate, she also promised that she’d go right to the theatre to watch once the initiation ended.

Anxiously, you stood by the edge of the stage behind the curtains with a clear view of the front doors as you waited for Wanda to arrive. She had a seat in the front row where you could see her from anywhere to the right of the stage behind the curtains so you could watch her reactions to her performers wearing her designs.

Then a few anxious minutes turned into half an hour, and she still hadn’t come.

By then you knew that the initiation was over because Wanda gave you a definite time it would be finished by, which was well before the start of the play.

You sent her a few texts, but by the second to last act, you knew she wasn’t coming and you stopped messaging.

Maybe it was unfair to place her attendance on the kind of pedestal you did, because it wasn’t any sort of objective truth how important it was that she came.

It was a play you helped write while thinking of her, props you made sitting with her in the living room — just the two of you, hours upon hours painting and writing and designing all while trying to see the set through her eyes.

You imagined you knew her well enough to see from her shoes, anyways.

A whole year’s effort for her.

It wasn’t like you told her any of that; not even you knew how important Wanda had been to every single thing you did until you were broken up.

When Wanda finally arrived, she burst through the theatre doors, heels in hand. She looked like she’d been running, as she was out of breath and a bit dazed as she looked around at the empty theatre.

And the soft flush of her cheeks and the mess of her hair.

She was drunk too.

You were packing up the last of the props into boxes on your own when Wanda stepped up to the stage and looked for someone.

“Is… Did I miss it?” she asked, slowly catching her breath.

“Guess,” was all you could manage to force out from the bitter feeling that squeezed the air out of your lungs.

She caught sight of the props you were putting away; some of them were things she could recall making with you. She remembered helping you hot glue some of them together and pick out the paint and cut up the little details.

She felt terrible.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I lost track of time. Really, I did. I didn’t mean to miss your play. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t mean to, but you should’ve cared about it enough that coming to see something important to me wasn’t an extra effort to you.”

You closed the stage curtains and stepped down from the staircase leading out to the side where the door to the theatre was, and Wanda followed behind you.

You placed the prop box down by the foot of the staircase.

“I know you were busy, but I just thought you’d prioritise your own girlfriend over some stupid sorority,” you muttered.

The anger was well-founded, yet the way you insulted Wanda’s interests wasn’t. But you were so upset and jealous and you felt so belittled.

Maybe she felt the same way too, because Wanda quickly countered, “You don’t have to make me feel bad about it. I just apologised. And besides, it’s not like you had anything that important going on here.”

Your face contorted and you turned to look at her.

“What?” you asked.

Although seemingly hesitant for a moment, the drinks Wanda had earlier catapulted her emotions forward and in the moment, she’d say anything to get a reaction from you just to make herself feel better about what she did.

“You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have something important happen to you, Y/N, because you always give me shit for pursuing the things I care about,” she argued.

With a disbelieving scoff, you replied, “I ‘give you shit’ sometimes because I want you here with me. I wanted you here! And I’ve always understood when you had other things to do.”

“You would want that, because you have nothing going on without me anyways.”

Sensing criticism in her tone, you questioned, “What does that mean?”

“It means that you could never understand having real things matter to you, because all you have is this idiotic nerdy theatre shit and nothing else important, so you leech off of me to make yourself feel better for at least having someone who’s actually doing something with their lives close to you.”

Wanda didn’t know why she said that, and even in the moment she hated the taste of her words as she spat them out. But she said them, still.

She loved how nerdy and creative and hardworking you were. She adored you so much — looked up to you.

Hours she’d spent listening to you talk about how much you loved theatre and watching performances with you online. She loved the part of you that loved theatre and film and art; she thought it was endearing and adorable, and it made you the most creative and sensitive person she knew.

The argument pressed on, both of you fueled by the insecurity of not being prioritised by the person you loved. Perhaps all either of you needed was to confess that you really did care about the other, for in your own ways, it felt to both of you that it had become lost somewhere along the line.

Wanda felt criticised and betrayed that you would look down on her, that you saw yourself as so different from her. The entire sorority paled in comparison to you, but the feeling that you thought you were truly that different from her, that someone else would be better for you instead, made Wanda say just about anything to get some sort of emotion out of you.

In a way you felt the same, constantly feeling that Wanda prioritised things more than she did you. You were patient and understanding with her and your love for her remained in the face of her distance, but where did that get you if she didn’t care about you anyway?

In the heat of the moment, someone accidentally nudged the prop box and made everything in it drop and clatter to the ground.

The loud noise of broken props you and Wanda had spent countless nights working on together put an abrupt stop to the argument.

There was a particular prop that tumbled out of the box and broke, a small chalice that took hours to design to make it as historically accurate as possible for the play, put together by an actual blacksmith that Wanda knew, and intricately decorated by the both of you afterwards over Indian takeout and the span of two movies.

Wanda felt so terrible looking at it, and how its base was bent and its handle broken off.

“I think I’m done,” you said suddenly and started getting your things from a small closet beside the exit. “I think we’re done.”

It took a few moments for Wanda to process your words, blinking in the face of watching you begin to pack up and leave her. Then she managed to utter, “What?”

“We should break up before the school year ends. Let’s stop pretending this is gonna work out, okay? Just focus on our own stuff while we can.”

Wanda scoffed out a nervous laugh and she approached you, stepping over the broken props. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not breaking up because of… of this. Y/N. Come on.”

“Why not?” you asked and zipped your jacket up. “Be honest with yourself and try to tell me that you see this working out any better than it already has been.”

If Wanda were more sober and less overwhelmed, she would’ve told you just that, because she loved you and she knew she could give you what you needed — what you deserved.

She would gladly apologise for what she did and how she’d been treating you, and she’d be honest about how she’d been feeling too.

And if you were thinking properly, not acting rashly, not too emotionally, you would’ve taken a step back and realised how much Wanda did love you.

Maybe you still would’ve wanted more of her — more of her attention, more of her affection — but you would’ve told her that too, and Wanda would’ve felt like the most important person in the world for being wanted so much by you.

But none of that happened.

Instead, Wanda began pleading, “Please don’t leave me. Y/N… No one really likes me but you. You know that. No one knows me, really. You’re all I have.”

“You have your sorority,” you muttered and pulled your hat on.

Wanda started to cry then, almost immediately brought to tears by the suggestion that her sorority could mean anything to her like you do.

Was she so terrible that she'd led you to believe that was even possible?

“I don’t care about them like that, and they don’t even really like me. They don’t like anyone,” Wanda insisted tearily. “But you like me. I know you do.”

She wrapped her fingers around your hand and tried to hold it.

“Please don’t leave,” she begged.

Recalling it now made you feel like the worst person in the world — truly.

In spite of the situation and what happened, Wanda really had been trying. She was crying in front of you and begging you to see that your relationship was stronger than you thought it was, and that she cared about you more than you realised.

And all you could do was be bitter and cold and look away from her, pull your hand away when she held it and turn your back to her weeping.

What were you protecting back then?

Your ego?

Back then you wondered if it was a worthy trade-off, and today while you drove back home from Wanda’s house, you wondered the same.

In the morning you continued to think about Wanda, and for an inexplicable reason, even checked your phone for a message from her.

It’d been a while since you did that.

But you didn’t hear from Wanda until Monday when she picked the boys up from school, and by then you’d been thinking a lot about change and the breakup and if it was possible to be normal with each other again.

“I wanted to… to apologise. For dinner on Saturday,” Wanda said to you the moment she stepped down from her car, walking up to you waiting by the front door of the school. She was bold about it, didn’t hesitate before apologising for something you weren’t sure needed apologising for.

“What are you apologising for?” you asked curiously, looking between her and the children being picked up by their parents.

You doubted that Wanda knew her husband tried to get your number, but you were almost sure that she at least knew about the infidelity.

Had she really settled for someone like that?

Victor was who Wanda started going out with after you broke up, and it bewildered you that she was still with him.

Didn’t she at least once think that she could do better?

She indeed knew about the infidelity — she’d known since college. But what was she meant to do about it? She’d begged him for normalcy and to upkeep appearances for Billy and Tommy, but she couldn’t beg for him to love her like a husband did his wife.

Nor could he.

Wanda spun her wedding ring around her finger anxiously. “I just felt that things might’ve been uncomfortable for you, and I would never want to make you feel that way. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

It felt like she was talking a lot faster than you could catch up with.

“I-I can get ahead of myself sometimes, and if I said anything to make you feel… uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

The sight reminded you all too well of that evening in the theatre — Wanda’s nervous fidgeting and her apologetic tone, and most of all, the pleading to keep you close.

It was different now, of course, because it was in a different context. But it was the same, really.

It was always Wanda begging you to stay with her.

“It’s… alright. You’ve done nothing to make me uncomfortable,” you reassured, and Wanda smiled.

Then you scratched at the back of your neck and looked away awkwardly before saying, “Listen, it’s kind of stupid, but I have, um…”

You hesitated to say it because of the subject matter, but Wanda was patient and so understanding as she regarded you with such kind eyes as she waited for you to continue.

For the first time you noticed how a part of Wanda had aged — changed, even. She looked older in the way she looked at you, the innocent levity ever present but now wrapped in the years that have passed and the maturity that came with it.

Wanda reached out a little and brushed the pad of her thumb across your knuckles softly, reminding you that it was okay to say to her what you wanted.

She did change — but not all of her.

Though you’d been so adamant about wanting her to be different from college, you found that you really enjoyed knowing some parts of her were exactly the same.

The parts you loved.

And the parts of her that were different you wanted to get to know too.

You’ve seen how hard she was trying with you, and you were finally determined to do the same for her.

“I have some play going on this weekend. I helped put it together with a few theatre friends from college,” you said finally. “So, if you wanna come, I can get some tickets for you and Victor.”

Wanda’s interest was immediately piqued and she straightened, her eyebrows raising as her lips parted to accept the offer.

But you added hurriedly, “But you really don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know it’s not really your thing.”

“N-No! I’d really love to go,” Wanda insisted with a reassuring nod. “Would it be alright if I just went on my own?”

Imagining Wanda going alone to one of your plays made the offer a lot more intimate than you initially planned it to be, and the ease at which she suggested it made your breath catch in your throat.

Wanda took it as she was being too forward and she immediately began explaining, “It’s just that Victor gets impatient with those sorts of things and I wouldn’t want to have you waste a ticket.”

“Yeah, I get it. Totally,” you replied and cleared your throat. “Yeah, sure. Just you. I’ll text you an entry ticket and they’ll just scan the barcode on it before you go in.”

“Okay,” she said with a reaffirming nod and a wide smile. “So, this weekend? When, Saturday?”

You corrected, “Sunday. At eight.”

“I’ll save the date,” Wanda said, practically beaming. She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d gotten.

Maybe she hadn’t been as unfortunate with her attempts as she felt she’d been.

Was it apologising for dinner that got her an invite to your play? Or did the twins win all your affection for her?

Or maybe you just blurted out the invitation without really thinking it through, and you regretted it the moment it came out of your mouth.

If that was the truth, Wanda would try her hardest to make sure you’d end up enjoying having invited her. She’d be what you deserved eight years ago, and she’d show you that she still could be what you deserved now.

After that, she wasn’t sure what would happen; expecting anything more than your forgiveness would be selfish.

Almost every day until Sunday came, Wanda sorted through her closet and her jewellery box to put together an outfit for you. She’d be wearing it and it was ultimately up to her whether she wore it, but it was for you.

As she picked out a cream knit sweater and a floor-length black skirt, she thought about how you’d like her outfit and also wondered what you might think of the perfume she chose too.

When it was the evening of the play, Wanda put her hair back into a French twist — this she did with the intention of not seeming too much like how she looked in college, as never she wore her hair up in something so formal back then.

Wanda laid the dolphin earrings in her palm and surveyed it as she wondered whether it would be okay to wear it tonight. She worried about making too big of a gesture where it wasn’t appropriate, but there was a chance you wouldn’t notice she was wearing them at all.

After several moments of deep consideration, she took off her pearl earrings and put on the ones with the small silver dolphins hanging from them.

You swore you hadn’t been this nervous leading up to the play’s first performance until tonight. You’d worked on plenty since college and it wasn’t like this was anything like your first project since graduation.

Why were you so nervous?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you took it out to silence your notifications until you read the text message.

It was Wanda, and she messaged: I got a spot in the front row! I’m excited!

When you stepped out from backstage and stood beside the edge of the curtains to be able to get a little glimpse into the crowd, you looked for her, eyes sorting through the front row of the audience.

In the midst of the soft buzzing from the crowd’s chatter and an audience of nearly three-hundred people, you saw Wanda sitting in the front where she said she was. She wasn’t with Victor or the twins; she came alone like she said she would, even though you ended up sending her three extra tickets in case she changed her mind.

The very sight of her made you ache, a thrumming longing beating at your sternum as you watched her look around at the theatre and adjust her skirt.

Quickly, before the performance started, you messaged back, I see you. You look great.

You wished so badly to have been able to see her face when she read the text, but you were pulled over to help with the lighting last minute.

When the curtains finally opened, you checked your phone one more time and saw Wanda’s message: Thank you. :)

The theatre lights dimmed and lights from the stage turned on and your position at the far-left of the curtains allowed you to see her much clearer — like you’d wanted to do years ago.

You paid little attention to what was going on during the performance, though you miraculously kept enough focus to be able to do things like help keep the performers on time with their costume changes. But mostly you were watching Wanda.

In a theatre full of hundreds of people, she was your only audience.

During pauses in the script where the theatre was full of only silence, you could hear the pulsing of your heart and for a moment forgot it’d ever done anything but beat only while you watched how pretty Wanda looked in the pale light of the theatre’s stage.

When the play came to a finish and the curtains closed, the crew and performers gave their thanks to the audience before the theatre lights were turned back on and some of the crew and performers lined up by the door to thank people as they filed out of the theatre.

The line shorted gradually and the crowd of people made it so that you couldn’t spot Wanda, and though you’d completely understand if she already left — after all, she didn’t need to stay to do anything else — a part of you hoped she stuck around a little.

But not for any particular reason, for you didn’t even know what you’d say to her if she did; you just wanted to see her wait for you.

“Hi,” a soft voice greeted, and you turned your head away from the theatre doors to the woman in front of you.

Wanda.

The sight of her made you rather nervous, and you realised you’d been worrying a lot about whether she’d enjoy the play.

Your only audience.

It was her opinion you cared about the most.

With a smile that made her own widen at the sight, you replied, “Hi.”

“I really liked it,” she told you. “The performers were incredible.”

“I’m… I’m really happy you liked it,” you said, internally feeling pretty relieved. “Yeah, they’re super talented. We had to move around a few dates, actually, so they’d be able to perform for us.”

“And the script…” Wanda said, something brief and unsaid exchanged between the two of you as you looked at each other. But the question that was implied wasn’t answered when she added, “The script was wonderful too.”

Someone approached from behind and waited around Wanda to be able to talk with you, so she uttered, “I should leave. Thank you for inviting me. I really loved being able to watch.”

You nodded once and smiled cordially at her, but the sight of her turning and heading for the theatre doors reminded you all too well of something similar from years ago and you reached out suddenly and took her hand. She stopped and looked down at your hand wrapped around hers.

Her fingers twitched before she looked up at you.

“Stay,” you said and took a breath. “Until I’m done here.”

An unusual feeling began to grow within her as she ran her eyes over your face, seeing the hesitancy that seemed to make the corner of your mouth twitch as you anticipated her response and the look in your eyes that meant something she couldn’t interpret.

Her throat tightened and Wanda had to swallow to ease the tension there so she could reply to you.

“Okay,” she replied, hoping you didn’t hear the way her breath caught in her throat when your fingers tightened around her hand. “I’ll wait in the hall.”

Was she stuttering when she answered? She couldn’t tell.

She focused only on keeping her legs steady as she moved one foot in front of the other, her thumb rubbing at the heel of her hand as the feeling of your fingers running down her palm when you let go of her hand lingered even when the doors closed behind her.

Minutes felt like seconds in that hallway where Wanda waited for you. It felt like time simply ceased to exist there when her mind ran rampant with what it might’ve meant that you invited her to see your play and asked her to wait for you.

She wondered if things would’ve gone just like this if she had come to your play like she promised eight years ago.

The theatre lights turned off and you stepped into the hallway once the doors opened, exchanging a smile with Wanda who straightened from the adjacent wall and stepped towards you.

“Thanks for waiting,” you said gratefully. “Sorry for taking so long. There was a problem with the lighting again.”

“It’s totally okay. I didn’t wait long at all,” Wanda reassured. Then she said, “You’ve always been such a talented scriptwriter. I’m glad I got a front row seat to your play.”

Her words made you flush and the way she looked at you with such innocent and sincere optimism in her eyes that presently glistened with the dim light of the hallway made you stutter until you were finally able to thank her.

You cleared your throat and said, “You really do look great tonight, by the way. I mean, a lot better now because I can see you more clearly. Compared to before, like, behind a curtain.”

That made Wanda laugh and she nodded. “I get it. Thank you,” she replied. She was glad that you liked how she looked. She wore it all for you, after all.

Really, neither of you knew what you were expecting when you made time for each other alone. You didn’t know what you had wanted when you asked Wanda to stay, and she didn’t know what she’d been hoping to get out trying her hardest to be friendly with you again.

“Did you drive yourself here?” asked Wanda.

“No, I got a ride from one of my friends. He had to drop something off at his place, so he’ll come back to get me. His car couldn’t fit me in there with the set stuff.”

Immediately, Wanda offered, “I can drive you home. You don’t have to wait for your friend.”

“Really? You don’t have to. I don’t wanna bother you.”

“It’s not a bother at all. Tommy and Billy are out of town visiting Victor’s parents, so I don’t have to be home early to make them dinner or anything.”

Things seemed to be going well — really well. But you still weren’t sure what you wanted from all this.

Maybe there wasn’t anything to want.

Maybe you and Wanda would just end up being casual friends who went out for lunch sometimes when she was free or went with her to her pilates classes when she could bring a friend.

That was kind of amusing; you couldn’t ever imagine someone like her being a casual anything in your life.

Knowing Wanda would never be something casual.

“Would you mind if we stopped at my place before I drop you off? I have something I’d like to give you,” Wanda told you as she buckled her seatbelt then started the car.

With a piqued interest, you asked, “What kinda thing?”

“A surprise,” she teased and grinned at you.

That made you feel all warm. It reminded you a lot of how you remembered her when you used to go out. She was such a tease back then.

Seeing her behave in some ways like how you remembered her but now dressed in expensive jewellery and clothes with shorter hair and a more mature face made her teasing even more endearing.

She talked a little about the twins and how their birthday party went, all the while you were watching how the streetlights casted on her face. Her face had become less round over the years and the pale lights from the street she drove down made the angle of her cheekbones cast a particularly sharp shadow along her face, making her face look sculpted, but by hand, like a Grecian statue.

Her nose was the same.

Her eyes crinkled at the sides when she smiled over at you after perhaps noticing you watching her. That was different from when you were together — the way she smiled — and you liked that a lot. So you didn’t care that she caught you.

If you had looked away, you wouldn’t have seen how she looked when she smiled at you.

“Come in and wait in the den,” she told you when you arrived before leading you into the house. She set her purse down beside your things on the couch then started the fireplace. “I’ll just be a second. I have to get it for you upstairs.”

Somehow the room looked different now knowing it was only Wanda at home.

You looked at the picture you had been staring at the last time you were here, and even that looked different too. You’d noticed how Wanda was hugging you when you last saw the picture, but now you couldn’t stop looking away from her.

And how happy she looked with you.

Wanda came down from upstairs and you could see her holding something for the fireplace reflected off of what looked like metal.

When she stepped into the den, you could see she was holding some kind of prop.

It was the chalice the two of you worked on years ago that broke.

“Oh my god. You still have this?” you mused and carefully took it with both hands when she handed it to you.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed and she played with her wedding ring. “It’s all fixed up now,” she said. “I was really careful with it. You should take it.”

“No,” you immediately contested. “It isn’t right for me to take it from you after you’ve taken such good care of it.”

“It’s still yours. It was for your play. Please take it.”

You looked down at it, turning it carefully in your hands and reading in all the details of the prop the late nights you spent with Wanda making it as if the very metal and its details had words written on them. You wondered what she must’ve thought every time she saw it over the last eight years.

It belonged to the both of you if anything.

When you set the chalice down by your things, Wanda quietly asked, “Y/N… Was tonight the play you wrote for me in college?”

You blinked and were taken by surprise. You started writing a script for Wanda so you could have it finished by the middle of February, but you ended up breaking up before her birthday, and you never had the chance to give it to her.

Initially when you first met Wanda again last month, you thought it was by complete coincidence that you had also just found the drafted script from years ago and had just decided to finally make it into a show.

But maybe you truly had been thinking of her a lot more over the years than you originally thought you did.

“How did you know that?” you asked.

She confessed, “I read a few pages of it back then.”

“When I…”

“When you told me not to,” she confirmed. “But I was curious, and… Well, that was the play, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“You wrote a play for me,” she said, teasing you.

Without taking your eyes away from her for a second, you smiled and repeated, “I wrote a play for you.”

At first your sincerity made Wanda swoon and her teasing demeanour melted into a warm flattered mess before guilt overtook her at the sight of how you looked at her.

You looked at her with so much admiration.

Wanda swallowed and quietly said, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“You apologise a lot.”

“I know, but–” She cut herself off and seemed to be recollecting things internally before she began again. She struggled with maintaining eye contact but she tried anyway, and you wondered what was so important that she had to try this hard to communicate it.

She said, “I should’ve gone to your play in college.”

You tried to interrupt her before she could apologise for something that happened so long ago, but she wouldn’t let you interject.

“It was important to you and I should’ve gone like I promised I would. I prioritised other stupid, meaningless things over you, and I’m sorry. I should’ve…”

She finally broke eye contact and looked down at the floor, pressing her fingers against her palm anxiously.

You weren’t sure if you should try interrupting her again until the light from the fireplace reflected against the silver of her earrings.

You reached out and laid the earring against the pad of your index finger so you could get a better look at it and Wanda looked up from the floor and ran her eyes over your face.

“Dolphins,” you said.

It was then that Wanda realised the feeling that had been planted deep within her the second you took her hand in the theatre, then blossomed rapidly until this very moment.

She was falling in love with you again.

Her eyes moved over your shoulder to the photo of the two of you from years ago, framed and showcased right on the mantle where she could see it.

She recalled how her eyes always found their way over to the photo whenever she passed the fireplace, even when she hadn’t any idea if she’d ever see you again.

The box stored in her closet of all the things that reminded her of you from when the two of you were dating years ago came to mind too.

She wasn’t falling in love with you again — no.

Wanda had always been in love with you.

“I bought them to wear for you,” she confessed, stepping closer to you so your knuckle accidentally ghosted against her cheek.

Your eyes left the earrings to meet hers. “They’re pretty,” you said.

“If only I’d have kept my promise,” Wanda whispered, “things would’ve been different.”

You ached as you realised how much guilt must’ve been on her shoulders the last eight years, how quick and easy it was for her to blame herself for what happened.

“Wanda, our breakup wasn’t your fault,” you told her. “I made mistakes too.”

She immediately shook her head and looked away from you.

“No, you didn’t.”

You insisted, “Yes.”

“It was my fault that–”

You had to cup Wanda’s cheek with your hand to make her look at you again and stop talking. She shut her mouth and looked at you, and that was when you sternly said, “It was my fault too.”

She began to tear up and you carefully swiped the tears from her eyes with your thumbs.

“I don’t care how things would’ve been,” you said. “All I care about is what it is now — what we are now.”

Wanda took in a shaky breath and quietly asked, “What are we now…?”

Your eyes fell to her lips and Wanda was too distracted by how you looked and how good you smelled and how warm your hand was on your cheek to notice you were leaning in for a kiss until your lips were pressed against hers.

She’d forgotten how good those could feel.

But she never forgot how yours felt.

Her arms raised and she wrapped them around your neck so you couldn’t back up from her too far when you parted from the kiss.

“I could… I could do right by you this time,” Wanda found herself promising the moment you pulled away enough so she could look into your eyes.

What was she saying?

“I could treat you right this time around too,” you vowed.

What on earth were either of you saying?

“Is that okay?” you whispered.

Wanda didn’t wait a moment before replying, “That’s okay. That’s… really, really okay.”

She leaned in and kissed you again, feeling you smiling against her own grinning lips.

──────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ────────

Until she filed for divorce from her husband, all Wanda Maximoff has known how to do is compromise, because until then, she never imagined a future wherein she could be any more than someone who lived in her husband’s shadows and never pursued the things she loved.

That night of your play changed so much for her.

It was painful to have to say goodnight to you and eventually have to drive you back home for her husband would eventually come back later that evening, but all Wanda could think about when she was in bed was how much things could change.

She thought about the kinds of futures she could have with you and the twins, the kinds of lives you could lead and the things she could do with herself.

But there was one thing she had to do before she could have any of that, and she wasn’t willing to wait and sit still anymore; when she turned to look at Victor sleeping beside her, Wanda knew she had to file for divorce.

It wasn’t that the filing was so uncalled for at all, and it was easy to build a case against him.

The infidelity on Victor’s part and arguments that they sometimes failed to keep quiet from Tommy and Billy and dozens of other issues had built up to the point where Wanda’s lawyer confessed to her upfront that she was surprised she hadn’t filed for divorce much earlier.

They were trying to keep it as delicate as possible for the twins were still young, and in spite of their differences, neither their mother nor their father wanted to subject them to the complications that parents went through during a divorce.

Wanda rented her own apartment large and comfortable enough for both her and the twins, and you when you stayed over.

You slept in Wanda’s bedroom, naturally. Though it still made you giddy recalling the mornings and nights you spent together in the same bed, in the same apartment.

Despite the relatively smooth move, Victor was still a very rich and power-hungry man, and he hadn’t been making the divorce process easy for Wanda. Oftentimes she was tired and drained, but also so impassioned.

It’d been a long time since she stood up for herself and what she wanted, and really, it was also first time she’d ever stood up to him.

“He wants to have them five days a week, each week,” Wanda told you presently, scoffing.

You leaned against the table and watched her as she worked.

“What’s his lawyer saying?”

“I don’t care what that asshole is saying. I’m not compromising, Y/N,” she said sternly. “I’m not settling for two fucking days a week with my children.”

Rounding the table, you wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her against you. “That’s my girl. That’s good,” you praised and shook her around a little, making her stifle a laugh as she looked up and smiled at you.

You kissed her temple and told her, “It’ll work out, Wands. Be strong.”

“Is everyone ready for the picture?” a voice called from the front of the stage.

It was the start of a new season at the theatre and it was tradition for your company to take a photo of all of the crew during the very early days of production development.

“Oh, hurry, hurry!” you hissed and took the pencil out of your girlfriend's hand.

Wanda tried to protest, “Y/N–”

“Finish the costume design later. Come on. Come on, come on, let’s go!”

You took her hand and pulled her to the stage where the rest of the crew was getting together for the photo, the camerawoman standing by the edge with her camera ready.

Your arm wrapped around Wanda’s hips and she wrapped both of hers around your shoulders, squeezing each other tight and smiling widely together as the photo of the entire production crew was taken.

You asked, “Wanna see it?”

“Very much,” she replied.

You rounded the camera together and Darcy approached Wanda.

“Wanda. Hey,” she greeted.

“Hi,” replied Wanda with a smile and she turned to face the young woman.

“When you write the article for the newsletter, could you mention that we’re looking for backup dancers?” she asked. “There’s, like, several big musical numbers in this one and we were pretty understaffed for the last show.”

You frowned and looked over at her. “Okay, not ‘pretty understaffed,’” you corrected. “Moderately understaffed.”

While ignoring your lighthearted offence because you’d been the primary one in charge of performer recruitment for the last play, Wanda answered with a reassuring smile, “I’ll add it.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said with a relieved exhale.

When you turned around to look at the camera for the photo, Darcy mouthed at Wanda before leaving for backstage again, ‘Very understaffed.’

“Wanda, this is gonna look really great on the mantle,” you told her, turning the camera around so she could see the picture.

“Framed and right under the television in the living room,” she affirmed.

Wanda still had the picture of the two of you with her sorority, though now it was stored away in the box with all her other keepsakes from you.

It was always a symbol of the past, a reminder to her of a love she couldn’t ever get back. But now that things were different, Wanda didn’t need to think about anything but her future wherein you and the twins were always in it, no matter how many different lives she imagined for herself.

So there was a new framed picture put up where everyone in her apartment living room could see it — a photo of the theatre crew and you and Wanda right in the middle in the front row, smiling widely in each other’s arms with her cheek pressed against yours.

#gif credit to kcthrynns on twitter tho they are a deleted account now #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

2K notes · View notes

sincerelyyuu · 6 days

Text

"in the end, it's still you." p2.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ synopsis: you never thought the day would come where you would have to choose between your two best friends. but how do you say goodbye to someone who became one of your reasons for living? ➼ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru x fem!reader ➼ content/warning: angst with tons of pining and heartbreak, sfw, heavy s2 spoilers, pet names, cursing, mentions of death ➼ wc: 3.1k words ➼ a/n: here's the anticipated part two of this fic! can definitely read this part on its own as a standalone, but highly recommend reading part one for the full angst effect ♡ ➼ part one, part two, part three

You didn’t know how you got here.

One minute you were on a mission. The next minute you were a fugitive on the run.

When Suguru and you left for the village, you didn’t expect to be standing in front of a caged cell that held two little girls. They were twins and looked to be no more than the age of five. Crouching down to match their eye level, you saw just how disheveled and scared they were between the bars. Clothes tattered, skin covered in dirt, eyes wide with fear. How cruel.

“Hello. I’m (y/n). That’s my friend Suguru,” you introduced softly, not wanting to spook them. Suguru nodded at them in greeting with a smile. “What are your names?”

“Nanako,” the light brown haired twin answered in a near whisper.

“Mimiko,” her black haired twin counterpart responded after.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” you smiled, leaning closer to them to whisper so that only they could hear. “Let’s get you out of here quickly, yeah?”

The girls looked back at you with surprise before a small smile appeared on their faces, nodding. You and Suguru were the first people to show them any form of kindness in this village. Unfortunately, their happiness was short-lived.

“These two are crazy! They used their mysterious powers to attack the villagers, right?” a male villager accused them both.

Furrowing your brows, you exchange glances with Suguru who shared the same sentiments as you. You both had already exterminated the cause of those incidents when you arrived.

“No, it’s not them,” Suguru exhaled, a hand on his head as he massaged his temple in disdain.

Ignoring his words, an older woman added more fuel to the fire, “My granddaughter was nearly killed by these two, too!”

Nanako defended, “That’s because she-”

“Shut up, you monsters! I knew we should have killed you two as babies!”

“Watch your mouth,” you snapped, maneuvering your body to shield the twins from the vile woman. The girls immediately sought refuge behind you.

You couldn’t believe the words coming from them openly talking about killing the girls when they were sitting right there. You felt so sorry for the two. Based on what the villagers were saying, these poor children most likely hadn’t received an ounce of love in their lives. Instead they were treated like animals.

It was just like you to put yourself in harm's way to protect others with no hesitation. It was one of the reasons that made Suguru fall in love with you. It didn’t come as a surprise to him to see Nanako and Mimiko already taking a liking to you.

Looking at the three of you, something in Suguru snapped. Lowering beside you, he offered you a gentle smile.

“Do me a favor. Once I step out, let the girls out and cover their ears. Stay here. I’ll come back for you three when I’m done,” he instructed.

“What? Why?” you asked in confusion. “Sugu… What are you about to do?”

He ruffled your hair playfully. “I’ll be right back. Now be a good girl for me.”

You looked at him wearily. There was something different about him right now that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You also didn’t like how vague he was being. Still, you hesitantly agreed. Satisfied, Suguru stood up to face the villagers in the room.

“Everyone, shall we step outside for a moment?” he asked, a sickeningly sweet smile gracing his face.

You were prepared for when you successfully freed the girls from their confines with Mimiko and Nanako instantly falling into your awaiting arms. Instructing them to cover their ears, you held them close and placed your hands behind their heads, letting them rest their faces against your chest.

“It’s okay, I got you. You’re safe now,” you promised them. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

What you weren’t prepared for was the fiery blue flames that illuminated the village and the screams that ensued after.

A few days later, it was a beautiful day in Shinjuku. People were going on about their business as they maneuvered among the busy streets. The air was full of chatter with the hustle and bustle of city life.

“I’ll go ahead and ask. Any chance the charges are false?” Shoko inquires with a smile.

Suguru shakes his head at the female sorcerer, “Nope. Unfortunately not.”

Shoko takes a drag of her cigarette, blowing white whips of smoke that dissipate into the air. “You know what, I can expect you to be able to pull off this kind of thing. But did you really have to drag (y/n) with you too? Where is she anyway?”

Suguru fights the urge to grin at the mention of your name. Crossing his arms, he peers up at the clouds drifting across the azure sky. “She’s-”

“-right here.”

The two turned their heads at the sound of your voice as you approached them, a bag full of pastries in tow. You waved shyly at Shoko who was relieved to see you unharmed. You were one of the few female friends that she had at school. It came as a big surprise to her when she heard the news of your shared sentence with Suguru. It didn’t seem like you to commit mass murder. Then again, neither did Geto.

“There’s Ms. Partner-in-crime. I was just about to ask Geto why this little situation came to be,” Shoko filled you in.

You shift awkwardly in place, unable to find the right words to respond. Sensing your discomfort, Suguru swiftly answers back, “I’m going to create a world of only jujutsu sorcerers. (y/n) here is the lucky girl who gets to help me.”

“Is that so?” the brunette laughs. “I don’t get it.”

“We’re not children. I’m not holding out hope that everyone will understand,” Suguru responds. He glances over at you as you stare into the crowd and zone out of the conversation. As long as you were beside him, he didn’t care if no one else understood. At least he had you.

Shoko whipped out her cell and promptly entered a series of numbers before placing it to her ear. “Hey, Gojo? I found Geto and (y/n). Yeah, Shinjuku.”

Hearing Satoru’s name, your body immediately went into flight mode. Breath quickening, heartbeat accelerating, and anxiety swirling in your stomach. You felt like throwing up. You knew it was inevitable to see him when Suguru suggested going to Shinjuku for the day under the guise of buying treats for Nanako and Mimiko. But you weren’t sure you were ready to see him yet. What could you possibly even say to him after what happened?

Before your thoughts could spiral even more, you felt a warm hand slip into your left and the pastry bag removed from your right. Looking up, Suguru didn’t make eye contact with you, only squeezing your hand in reassurance. He always had a sixth sense for how you were feeling.

“Excuse us but we have somewhere to be. Goodbye, Shoko,” Suguru waves at her nonchalantly as if it were any other ordinary day and like he’d see her in class tomorrow.

She waves back and turns to make eye contact with you, an unreadable expression on her face. Before you could analyze it, Suguru gently tugs on your hand and leads you away with him and into the bustling crowd of Shinjuku. The two of you walked for a few minutes in silence before a familiar voice reached your ears.

“Explain yourselves.”

Stopping in your tracks, you felt a lump form in your throat. Your nails dug into Suguru’s hand, leaving red crescents upon his pale skin. Suguru tried not to flinch at the pain. He knew that this moment would be hard for you.

After receiving Shoko’s call, Satoru wasted no time and immediately teleported to Shinjuku in search of his two best friends. All he can think of is, why? Why would you both do this? It didn’t make any sense. He needed answers and he wasn’t stopping until he got them.

Among the sea of people, his eyes searched and searched until it finally landed on one of his targets. He didn’t need to see your face to know that it was you. After all, he had engrained every detail of you into his mind from the way you looked to the way you moved. Your name lingered on his lips, longing to call for you.

“You already heard from Shoko, right?” Suguru answered him back without turning around. “That’s all there is to it.”

Unhappy with his response, Satoru felt his blood begin to boil in anger. “So you’re just going to kill everyone that isn’t a sorcerer? Even your parents?”

Maybe it was the way your heartbeat was beating so loudly in your ears, but you could barely hear what the two men were saying despite being right there. You knew they were exchanging words but your mind refused to process them. Instead it focused on the way Satoru’s voice was plagued in confusion and betrayal. You and Suguru, his two closest friends, had betrayed him without a word.

“You’re going to kill all non-sorcerers and create a world of only jujutsu sorcerers? You know that’s impossible!” you heard Satoru bellow from behind you.

“You could do it, couldn’t you, Satoru?” the black haired sorcerer retorted back, now facing the enraged male. “Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or does being the strongest make you Gojo Satoru?”

You felt a chill go down your spine from Suguru’s cold tone so different from the honey one he always used towards you. Was this the Suguru you’ve known until now? But then you remembered everything Suguru had gone through up until this point. Swallowing disgusting curse after curse with nothing to show for it for himself. Watching his friends and comrades die in front of him. You understood the shift in Suguru’s beliefs.

That being said, you also understood where Satoru was coming from. You knew deep down that this wasn’t right. Innocent lives were taken to create a world that may not even be possible. However, there wasn’t anything you could do about it now. You were in too deep and if this was the hill you’ll die on, so be it.

Frustrated with the conversation with Suguru, Satoru knew there was no changing that man’s mind. Suguru had zero regrets and had every intention of carrying out his new life goal. Shifting his focus to you, Satoru felt the anger clouding his vision slowly diminish, a sense of yearning overwhelming his senses.

His voice dropped to a low cry as he called out to you, “(y/n)...”

The moment your name left his lips, a wave of guilt settled into the pit of your stomach. You wish he hadn’t done that. In a perfect world, you would have turned around and ran into those strong arms that have held and protected you more times than you can count. You felt your resolve chipping away piece by piece.

But this world was far from perfect. You can never go back to the way things were. Still, you owed it to Satoru to properly say goodbye because you weren’t sure when you’ll ever see him again.

You took a deep breath and stepped to turn around. Halfway through your turn, you felt Suguru’s grip on your hand tighten, looking at you in confusion and slight alarm. Were you changing your mind and leaving him? However, his tense shoulders eased when you squeezed his hand back in reassurance, communicating with your eyes that you weren’t going anywhere. Nodding his head, he let go of you.

What the fuck? Satoru thought to himself.

Watching the scene unfold between you two, he felt an insecure stinging pierce in his chest. His six eyes bored holes at your interlocked hands. An unsettling feeling gnawed at him at the fond look in Suguru’s eyes which stared directly into your own. It was the same way Satoru looked at you.

Fuck. His best friend, Geto Suguru, was also madly in love with you.

“Satoru.”

Satoru could almost cry hearing you call his name. You took a few steps towards him, maintaining eye contact as you did so. He also took a step towards you but immediately halted when you raised your hand up to stop him from getting any closer. Standing a few feet from each other now in silence, you felt your heart break at the sight of your once confident best friend who now looked so small in your presence.

“...Why?” he asked, the tension growing thick in the air.

Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you replied, “You don’t understand-”

“Then, make me understand!” Satoru shouted.

Storming directly to you, he stopped so that he stood inches away from your figure. One more step and he could pull you to him and away from whatever this was. It would be so easy. He stood before you with his infinity off, silently granting you the opportunity to reach out for him. He never had it on whenever he was with you. He trusted you to let his guard down because you made him feel safe.

Satoru continued to interrogate you as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “(y/n), I know you. I know you didn’t lift a finger to kill any of those people. You would never take the life of another if they didn’t deserve it. So, why are you doing this?”

“I can talk to the elders. I can convince them to reverse your sentence because you didn’t do anything. They’ll listen to me,” he begged you, voice quickening with every line.

“Is it because I’m away all the time? I’ll stop taking on more missions or have them assign you with me. Just come home.”

He was beginning to ramble now as he felt himself grow more desperate to keep you. Satoru was never the type to get down on his knees for anyone except you.

Throughout the years, he fell for you hard. You had the power to render him weak with just your smile, the air leaving his lungs at the way you took his breath away. Your calming presence grounded him and brought him back to reality whenever things became too intense. It was the way you understood his thoughts and feelings before he even knew of them. You held his heart in the palm of your hands and right now you were completely destroying him.

Against your better judgment, you caressed the left side of Satoru’s face. The man immediately leaned into your hand as he melted at your touch, placing his hand over yours and seeking your affection. Brilliant blue eyes filled with anguish met your sorrowful ones.

“Toru,” you smiled bittersweetly at him. “I can’t. The moment I go back, they’d kill me in a heartbeat. It’s too late for me. At least this way I’ll be protecting you.”

“It’s supposed to be the other way around. I’m the one that’s supposed to be protecting you,” he argued back. “Sweets, this is insanity. You can’t possibly be okay with this. Do you honestly agree with him and this crazy non-sorcerer world bullshit?”

You let your hand fall from his face, watching him grimace from the action. “It doesn’t matter what I think. What’s done is done. I made a promise to Suguru that I’d be there for him.”

Satoru scowled, “And what about me, (y/n)? Don’t you see that you’re hurting me?”

That wasn’t fair. How do you explain to him that you were doing what you thought was best? As the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, Satoru will always have a community rallying behind him. Suguru had no one. You didn’t want Suguru to live a lonely life alone. You cared too much about him. Hence, you promised to be that one person he needed.

Satoru felt like ripping his hair out in agony. He could feel it. He could feel him losing you. Any traces of anger slipped out of his body. He looked at you desperately, looking crestfallen and utterly wrecked as he felt hot tears burn in his eyes.

“Baby, please,” he begged, voice almost cracking in the process. “I’m already losing one best friend. I can’t lose you too.”

Closing your eyes to stop your own tears from falling, you could only whisper an apology back, “I’m sorry.”

Satoru didn’t need your apology. He knew that you could apologize a million times and in the end, he’d still forgive you even if you were tearing him apart. He also knew that you were extremely stubborn and even more loyal. You had made up your mind and this was you saying goodbye. His fists went rigid causing his knuckles to turn white from the intensity of his grip.

“So, this is it? This is the life you’re choosing?” he let out an empty laugh, the smile leaving his face once his gaze met Suguru’s who awaited behind you. “You’re choosing him?”

Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his tall figure down to you into a tight embrace. Arms wrapping around you, he held you even tighter against him as if his life depended on it. In a way, it did. Breathing in your scent, he felt goosebumps rise on his skin when your lips brushed to whisper against his ear.

“This is me choosing you.”

Ripping yourself away from the snowy haired man, he stood stunned at your declaration and could only watch as you made your way back to Suguru’s side. The said male extended his hand back at you once more, pouting as you shook your head no. Vision blurring with tears, you walked past him and continued walking down the street to get as far away as possible, willing your broken heart not to look back.

Suguru could only sigh deeply. You just needed more time. Whenever you were ready, he’d be there every step of the way with open arms, forever set to love and protect you. Looking back at Satoru, he shot the distraught male a smirk and threw up a peace sign. Tucking his hands into his pants pockets, he trailed after you before you could get too far.

In a moment of panic, Satoru raised his hands to prepare an attack towards the raven haired male. After a mental struggle, he ultimately dropped his hands to his side, fists clenching hard. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t have it in him to harm his best friend or else he’d risk harming you as well.

Satoru watched your figures disappear deeper into the crowd for perhaps the last time he’ll ever see you.

338 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 1 year

Note

forgive me for what is likely a basic ass request but... steve has a crush on eddie's best friend? smut optional but encouraged :) (love, j.d. aka mypoisonedvine)

✶ ┄ LOVE YOU, ON PURPOSE (i)

part one | part two

summary: steve harrington took extra care to avoid the local freaks of hawkins. having shared custody of a fourteen-year-old forced him into a bitter friendship with one, he's steadfast in his refusal to befriend the other. that is, until you start working at the groove beside family video. steve claims he only fell for you because you tripped him. (17k)

pairing: steve harrington / eddie's bff!reader

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, protective eddie, canon divergence TW swearing, bullying, some smooching, talks of insecurities, reader is doubtful of steve's intentions because steve used to be a dick <3

a/n: this request has been sitting in my inbox for ages. ages, i tell you! i wrote the outline the day it was sent in and ended up turning the blurb request into a full on 30k+ word fic. i'm sorry for the wait j.d. (and to everyone else who's been waiting patiently for me to put this out). i quite literally put my heart, soul, pussy, and so, so many hours into this. please enjoy! feedback is always appreciated! xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Something happens and I'm head over heels.

It would be a total disservice to call you Eddie’s best friend.

It wouldn’t even feel right to call you his platonic soulmate or his sister from another dimension. Not when the two of you are essentially an extension of the same human being. It’s a twin flame on steroids — your mirrored souls make the rest of Hawkins believe in some sort of higher power. There’s no way it wasn’t destiny that placed the two of you together at exactly the right place, at exactly the right time.

Your entwined spirits could’ve been a beautiful thing.

It’s too bad you’re both total fucking freaks.

Unfortunately, being a couple of metalheads who spend their free time creating fantastical worlds in silly little board games hasn’t become cool yet — for some sad, strange reason. It leaves you and Eddie as the town’s token social pariahs. The kind of misfits you only spot when you care enough to look — laughing too loudly at the lunch table or sharing a cigarette in the alleyway between school buildings.

The kind of weirdos who get your attention without trying. The kind that people only look at when they need something to make fun of.

With that being said, everything Steve knew about you came from the people that hated you.

Tommy Hagan said that you and Eddie had been fucking since the seventh grade, that the two of you had gotten close between blowjobs and fingerbangs in the old chemistry classroom. No one’s quite sure where it came from, but they believed him without thinking twice. You and Eddie tried to squash the rumor for years before leaning into it full throttle.

“And these are the freaks,” Tommy announced when he approached your lunch table. He was giving Billy Hargrove a grand tour of the high school, or rather the shithole, and detoured like you and Eddie were some kind of sideshow attraction. Him and his goons ogled at you like zoo animals.

Steve idled some feet away, not as interested in the bit as the rest of them. He was even less interested in entertaining the new kid on the block thateveryone else seemed to be obsessed with.

“Hey, Tommy...” Eddie sing-songed through a mouthful of PB&J. You’d given him the other half of your sandwich, because you always give him the other half of your sandwich. “Hope you’re not comin’ back to ask for a handy again. I already turned you down, remember?”

A dumb grin took over the boy’s freckled face. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned over to the California boy. “I wouldn’t get too close to them. Don’t know where their hands have been, you know? If I had to guess, I think Punchy got Munson’s rocks off in the janitor’s closet before lunch period.”

Neither of you were particularly fazed by the laughter that erupted all at once and threatened to swallow you whole. Instead, you smiled with bits of grape jelly smeared on your chin. “I bet you think about it a lot, don’t you, Tommy?”

You really lived up to the nickname. Punchy. You weren’t entirely sure where it came from — your fierce temper, perhaps, or maybe your intense personality. Either way, it suited you.

Vicki Carmichael once said that you bit a guy on a date one time. Barry Jenkins, a tennis douchebag who thought the world revolved around him because his dad owned a string of local laundromats. He took you on a date in his mom’s Impala and assumed making out in the backseat gave him free rein to stick his hand up your skirt.

The asshole sported a red mark on his neck the next day.

When people asked you about it, you smiled with all your teeth in place of any real answer.

Carol Perkins loved to comment on the state of your wardrobe, telling anyone who would listen about the time she caught you rifling through the $1 bargain bins outside the thrift store. She liked to joke that you were stealing from them. “Because she can’t even afford a couple measly dollars. It’s kinda sad, honestly. I feel a little bad for her,” you overheard her saying once.

You were smoking a cigarette in the stall and watching through the crack of it while her and her friends touched up their lip gloss.

“Wait, really?” Tina wondered, stopping mid-swipe of mascara through her long lashes to gape at the girl beside her. Because, god forbid, they don’t have someone to make fun of.

Carol snapped bright pink bubblegum between her teeth. She looked offended, almost — manicured brows furrowed and shiny lips snarled — like the idea of her taking pity on you was insulting. “No,” she snapped in response.

You’re pretty sure it’s the only rumor about you that’s got any bit of truth to it. Or any rumor of hers, really. The thrift store was great and all, but you firmly believe that your best pieces come remanufactured straight from Eddie Munson’s closet.

So it isn’t any wonder why the two of you seem to dress so similarly — all leather jackets and distressed jeans and hand-me-down t-shirts that are either too big or too small. The both of you take little care in your appearance, wearing only what you feel good in. And sometimes that means wild hair and baggy clothes that swallow you whole.

To make it worse, you and Eddie even talk the same. You’re both loud and brash and have very little awareness of personal space. You aren’t scared to make a scene or use your voice when you think it’s being stifled. And when you love someone, they know it, because you won’t leave them the hell alone.

These are all the things that Steve hated about Eddie. So he hasn’t quite figured out why he’s so damn in love with you.

But he is.

Quite dreadfully so.

Head over heels and stumbling since the day he met you for a second time.

It was the spring of 1986 and The Groove had just opened up. Steve had heard murmurings of a record shop taking over the empty outlet adjacent to Family Video but had no idea it would nearly run them out of business. The shiny, new music store attracted all of their usual customers. People were more excited to buy new cassettes than rent movies they’d seen a thousand times already.

Steve didn’t mind, though. He liked it best when the store was empty. But all of his friends — a closeted lesbian, a basket case, and a couple of fourteen-year-olds — seemed to have the same affliction that was plaguing the rest of the town.

He tried not to be offended when Robin said she was going to spend her break next door and not with him in the closet-sized break room.

He failed.

Robin spent her half-hour and then some meeting you. She returned forty-five minutes later with a blushing face and a bleeding heart. Suddenly, there were two people in Steve’s life that couldn’t seem to shut up about you. As much as it annoyed him, he let her gush about you anyway, because that’s what best friends do, after all.

But Steve knew you once upon a time. Or he thought he did.

You were a loudmouthed metalhead who wore all black to blend in to Eddie’s shadow. You created fictional characters because it was easier than making friends with real people. You were strange and awkward and mean and gauche — the total opposite of this heavenly, mystical creature Robin was making you out to be.

But then it became this whole… thing.

With Robin and Eddie constantly talking over him about you, the rest of the kids were as confused as Steve was. And as they so often tend to do, the group decided to take matters into their own hands and make the short trek to meet you formally. Steve figured that their answer would be final. When those teenagers hate you, you know it. He learned that the hard way

They’re gone for a little over an hour and come back with a thousand stories and various tapes they say you gave to them for free.

Lucas has got a new Beastie Boys cassette and a proud smile on his face as he recounts the promise you’d made him about catching his next basketball game. “And she said she really liked my ranger,” he brags less than humbly, telling the older teens about how you’d heard stories about his track record in Hellfire campaigns. There’s a sudden suaveness to his voice as he bounces his brows up and down at them.

Max scrunches her face in disgust. She clutches a Kate Bush tape close to her chest, like it’s a prized possession she never wants to let go of. She rolls her eyes at her boyfriend (or maybe ex-boyfriend, but Steve can never keep up these days) and makes her own conversation with Robin. The two girls are the only ones with more than half a brain cell between them, or so they claim.

The redhead tells her that she plans on bringing her broken skateboard over to your store soon. She says the thing’s been wobbly for days, and Robin nods along like she knows all about it. “Well, apparently, she has some tools and knows how to fix it. Said the trucks just needed to be reinforced or some shit, I don’t know, I’m just glad it’s getting fixed.”

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asks her, confusion contorting his words along with his features. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “I could’ve fixed it.”

“You don’t know anything about skateboards,” Max monotones.

“Okay, but you don’t even know this girl! She’s a total stranger, Max. That’s dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes. “She’s nice, Steve. Way nicer than you—”

That makes him scoff.

“—And you’d know that if you got to know her.”

It’s Dustin’s turn to gush about you next. His opinion, for a reason Steve has never been able to place, arguably means the most to him. And the kid is just absolutely fucking beaming about you. He holds a Star Wars orchestral vinyl in his hand — the brand new one he’s been talking about for weeks but couldn’t afford.

He talks of the collection of DnD figurines you were painting behind the counter and the promise you made to make one for his bard come the next campaign.

Dustin gazes at Steve, wide-eyed and nodding like he’s as amazed by the revelation as Steve is. “She’s cool, Steve. Like… really cool.”

The boy thought that Robin just had a crush, that Eddie was just being Eddie and overdramatizing all of his stories about you. But you’re everything they said you’d be and then some. The kind of stranger you meet that takes your breath away, that makes you sad in the understanding that you’ll never see them again. Dustin is grateful you don’t have to be a stranger anymore.

You sounded… nice. More than nice. They painted you out to be a fucking angel, the way you took care of a bunch of kids you barely knew for the better part of an hour. You weren’t the freak everyone made you out to be all that time ago.

They talk a great deal about your looks, too. Dustin, mostly. Lucas had received a glare and a half-hearted punch on the arm from Max when he said how pretty you were — even though she ultimately agreed with him. The curly-headed boy uses too big words to describe the renaissance painting you are, all heavenly morose and beautifully strange.

“Hey,” Eddie scolds from the sidelines, mostly playful. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. Bring it down a few notches, ‘kay?”

Steve is silent for the rest of the day after that. He’s not pouting about it like Robin keeps saying he is, just reserved in his reminiscence.

He can’t tell if he’s intrigued or annoyed. They talk about you the way people used to talk about King Steve — with a borderline obsession for someone they don’t really know. And deep down, he knows he’s just jealous. Jealous that no one talks about him that way anymore. Jealous that none of the kids have ever talked about him that way.

It leaves him skeptical and wanting to see the real thing for himself.

Steve opts to meet you on his lunch break the next day with a tight chest and sweaty palms, like a part of him knew it was going to change the trajectory of his life for the foreseeable future.

The door dings with his arrival. The record store smells like earth and nostalgia, a bit like flipping through the pages of an old book. Vinyls sit in rows and in towers that rise to the ceilings. Colorful cassettes, of which there are thousands, have nooks and crannies of their own. Posters decorate the walls along with various patterned records — there’s hardly a blank spot in the entire store.

And when Steve sees you for the first time, he only sees the back of you.

You’re in all black, just like he imagined you’d be. A sliver of skin at your midriff is showing from where your too small shirt has ridden up your torso. And your hair is as wild as ever, though a little longer than he remembers. You’ve haphazardly pinned back the ornery strings with a sparkly pin, but it doesn’t do much to tame them.

A breeze of warm wistfulness washes over him at the sight of you. A reminder of a life that used to be his, that you were a part of only passively.

It’s your smile that does him in. Maybe because you’ve never looked at him with it. As far as Steve’s concerned, no one’s ever smiled at him the way you do, and you barely even know him. You hadn’t seen him in over a year and if you shared any words in the past, it wasn’t anything more than snarky one-liners. But here you are, looking at him with sunshine anyway.

“Hi,” you beam with the warmest grin he’s ever seen, swiveling in your chair to face him. “Welcome in.”

He’s too stunned by the sight of you to respond. He just stands in the doorway, all wide-eyed and gaping, like he’s the first to see an angel on earth. And it’s strange because you’re far from perfect.

You’re blousy and a little disheveled, like you’d been running late that morning. The lack of makeup allows your imperfections to shine through in a way that makes you somehow more alluring. And you’ve got paint splattered like freckles on your cheeks, the culprit being the figurines you’re painting behind the counter. If you know you’re dotted with shades of red, blue, and green, you don’t show it.

“Can I help you find anything?” you ask him, still kind even though he’s acting like a fucking weirdo. That’s supposed to be your thing, not his.

Steve grasps for something to say but comes up short. His lips part and then close again in an embarrassing pattern that resembles a fish out of water. It makes sense, though; it’s a bit how you’ve made him feel just now.

When he realizes he can’t make out anything intelligible, he shakes his head. “Uh… nope.”

He’s leaving before he even realizes he’s leaving. The door dings again and he’s on the other side of it, long legs carrying him the short distance to Family Video at record speed.

He swings and slams the egress shut in quick succession, as though the ghost of you had been chasing him. He leans against the glass pane and exhales a heaving sigh, eyes squeezing shut as he recoils at what he’d just done.

He always knew that King Steve had died some time ago, but this was a new low.

Robin watches from the front counter with wide eyes. “…Did you forget something?”

Steve sighs a big, hopeless sigh, then peeks his eyes open. “My dignity.”

“She’s cute, right?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Her brows bounce in time with the smirk on her painted lips.

“Yeah, she’s cute,” he answers, all mad because it’s obvious. “She’s fucking— she’s beautiful.”

“Aw. Look at you,” she sing-songs and tilts her head to her shoulder. “I think your heart grew three sizes today, Stevie.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I never find out 'til I'm head over heels.

Steve, all caught up in his boyish misery, has no idea that he’s enraptured you in a similar way.

You hadn’t cared very much for the guy in high school. You didn’t really know him then, and you didn’t particularly want to. King Steve was rich. King Steve was pretty — too pretty. King Steve got attention from pretty cheerleaders and overaggressive douchebags alike.

King Steve didn’t need any affection from the local freakshow.

But, by some strange turn of events, he’d managed to make nice with your best friend.

The way Eddie talks about Steve, his words always dripping with a distant venom, it sounds like they still hate each other. Maybe they do. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit that they hang out far too often not to be friends.

If you were still in school, you probably would’ve judged him for it. Being friends with the boy whose buddies made your life hell certainly warranted some degree of ridicule. But now, having graduated and trying to move on from it all, you can’t find it in yourself to.

High school might as well have been a lifetime now. There’s no use in holding onto old ghosts.

If Eddie could let that shit go, so could you.

He drops by after school to keep you company like he always does when he doesn’t have a campaign to prep for. It’s his favorite pastime, perhaps a close second to Dungeons and Dragons. He gets to hang out with his best friend and swim in an ocean of music while he does it. As far as freaks go, Eddie Munson considers himself the luckiest.

He likes to hear you talk about everything new you’ve gotten in while he rifles through the old stuff that isn’t selling as well. You happily let him take what he wants for free. And what he doesn’t take, he doesn’t pay for either, because you cheat the system with your employee discount and then wipe the record from inventory. Just to be safe.

“I love having a criminal for a best friend,” he jokes every time, without fail.

Eddie stays by your side until the sun sets. He parts only to flip the sign at the door to closingfor you, then plops himself back on the counter again. His legs hang off the side of it, sneakers occasionally thudding against the wood when he kicks them back and forth too hard. He scans the back of an old Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl and bobs his head to the rhythmic bass as the song fills the empty store. He’ll take this one home, he decides.

You keep on painting like you have been all day, breaking only to assist customers or stretch your aching spine. The forest dragon had been far more work than you expected — made of pretty purple leaves instead of scales and blowing blush-colored flowers instead of fire. The little piece of clay has resulted in a day of back-breaking work.

You’ll be damned if Eddie’s next campaign isn’t the most stellar looking one yet.

Focusing on that makes it easier not to bring up Steve.

You want to. You just don’t know how.

Eddie’s friends were Eddie’s, and you don’t get involved where it doesn’t concern you. Besides, you did sort of give him shit for hanging out with The Hair way back when. The last thing you want is him taking the piss out of you about it.

You don’t want to sound like you care too much. Even more, you don’t want it to be obvious that you’ve been thinking about the boy all day — making yourself sick as you stew in what could’ve run him out like he did.

“Saw your friend today,” you remark, feigning a sort of absentmindedness, as you swipe your brush along the petals of your dragon. “King Steve.”

“Oh, you met him?” Eddie wonders, more intrigued by your words than you expected he’d be. He says it like you didn’t already know the guy — like this new Steve was a totally different person you needed to be reacquainted with to really know.

“I wouldn’t say met him exactly. He just, like, popped in for half a second and ran out.”

With your back facing him, you don’t see the shit-eating grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

Eddie was waiting for Steve to crack and finally see you. He knew he’d bite after the way the kids had talked about you — Dustin, especially. Because even though he claims he doesn’t have favorites, he’s got a very obvious soft spot for the boy. And he knew Steve would like you because everyone likes you. When they’re not clouded by judgment and high school hierarchies, at least.

He’s still got no idea how a guy that trips all over himself at the sight of a pretty girl could’ve ruled Hawkins once upon a time.

“Fucking idiot,” Eddie laughs to himself, already gearing up for the shit he was going to give Steve the next time he saw him.

But you see the boy before Eddie does. Steve comes back the next day, an hour or more after opening, less frazzled than the day before. The nearly twenty-four hours he had to prepare himself for the angel he was going to see allowed him not to make a total fool of himself when he stepped into the store again.

And you wouldn’t say it out loud — hell, it’s not even something you want to admit to yourself — but you’d been hoping he’d stop by again.

You thought Robin would come by and drag him with her, or that Dustin and his friends would come around before Steve dropped them all home. Frankly, you didn’t really care what brought him back. You just wanted to see him again.

Steve’s different than the boy he used to be. Enough that it was obvious from a measly thirty-second interaction. He used to be a charmer who could talk his way out of anything. Not to you, of course, he wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to you. But then he stops by out of nowhere, in rare form, stumbling all over himself and looking like he didn’t recognize you at all.

You’re still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not.

He’s mystified you in a way he probably isn’t used to. Most girls like the hair and the arms — the super buff, super strong arms that fit so nicely in his uniform — or the fact that he’s got money and a reputation that precedes him. But you’ve never given a shit about any of that.

You’re more enchanted by the way nothing could even begin to conceal the soft, shy boy that King Steve had apparently turned into.

The door chimes above his head when he enters. The scent of earthy nostalgia is already familiar to him — lavender, sage, and something deeper. Steve considers it progress when he plants himself a few feet away from the door this time. If he runs out again, he’ll have to make an embarrassingly longer escape.

You turn away from your nearly finished figurine to greet the new customer. The practiced smile unconsciously widens at the sight of him. “Hi!”

“Hey,” he smiles with a curt nod. He regrets the half-wave he gives you the second his hand shoots up.

“You gonna run off on me again?” you tease and swivel in your chair to face him completely.

You’re wearing a Hellfire shirt that’s just slightly too big for you. It probably belonged to Eddie before it belonged to you. And you wear a corset-looking thing over top of it, a sheer number with a lace embroidery and a ribbon that’s tied in a bow at your belly. It doesn’t cinch you in the slightest, though, more for decoration than practicality.

“No that was… I just—” Steve huffs out a laugh as he tries and fails to come up with an excuse. He figures anything is better than the truth — that he saw how pretty you were and his brain forgot how to work because he’s the lamest person on the planet.

So he chucks a thumb over his shoulder and fibs. “I left something back at Family Video. Had to run back.”

“It’s okay. I was just teasing,” you assure. “Uh— Are you looking for anything specific?”

“No. Not really. Just… new records to add to my collection, you know?”

“Oh, you collect vinyls?”

He doesn’t realize that’s what he’s just said until you repeat the words back to him.

He’s kind of just talking out of his ass and hoping something sticks. That line does, apparently, because you’re beaming at him instantly. He’s scared to say no because then you’ll stop smiling. And he can’t have that.

“Yep,” he answers with a nod. The stack of records collecting dust in his den has to count for something, right?

He can’t find it in himself to regret his little white lie when it has you lighting up like a christmas tree.

You toss your paintbrush down when you rush from behind the counter to meet him. You seem to have forgotten that you’d just dipped the thing in purple paint. The thing splatters shades of lilac all over the limestone bench. And, in your haste, you nearly smack yourself with the leaden slab as you raise it to pass by.

Steve’s eyes widen when you narrowly dodge the weighty thing — then jumps, startled by the dense thwap that echoes through the small store when it slams back down again. He’s almost worried that it might’ve busted the hinge.

You cower at the loud sound but move on with a commendable finesse, too focused on him to care about anything else.

“That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to collect, but records are so expensive, it’s crazy,” you ramble as you walk up to him, totally unthinking in the way you grab his forearm and usher him to the back of the store.

Your sheer black skirt swishes at your ankles as you walk. The dainty fabric is patterned with sparkly stars and crescent moons. He notices you wear a pair of dark shorts underneath for modesty. Steve tries his best not to stare at your ass. He almost succeeds.

“We actually just got in a couple of Dio records — The Holy Diver, you know, the one that just came out. I’m pretty sure there’s only, like, a couple thousand of these things in the whole world — which is totally fucking bonkers if you think about it,” you explain in one breath, laughing, before stopping abruptly in your tracks. Steve nearly runs into you when you turn around to face him.

You laugh again, a sadder one, this time at yourself, as you bring your palm to your forehead. “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t even know if you like Dio. I mean, of course, you don’t, right? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… rambled like that.”

You’d just been so excited and Steve had just been so different that you forgot who you were talking to. Hawkins High Royalty, Prom King, Biggest Flirt and Life of the Party in the yearbook.

As far as you’re concerned, Eddie Munson is your only friend. He’s the only person in the whole world you can be yourself around and never get self-conscious about any of it.

But sometimes you have moments like this one with a total stranger. Moments where you lose yourself in the conversation and your own jumbled thoughts. Moments where you talk and talk and talk until something thumps you on the head and you realize how annoying you’re being. This time, it’s the musky smell of his cologne that knocks you back to Ms. Click’s history class. The crisp breeze of bitter nostalgia makes you shiver.

Steve can see the way you get so suddenly aware of yourself and how the cognizance of the moment makes you writhe. He tries to bat away the lingering insecurities with a smile.

“Love ‘em,” he responds with a nod. He raises his brows and scoffs, grins and crosses his arms over his chest. “I mean, Dio? God, they’re like… top ten bands of all time, at least. Maybe even five.”

That isn’t totally true. He doesn’t know much about the band to have an opinion, but he’s pretty sure he might’ve said he hated them once. That was only because Eddie wouldn’t stop talking about them, though. Steve could learn to like them, if it means so much to you.

That’s exactly how he justifies spending $60 on four records.

He tells himself that he’ll listen to them and think of you, that it’ll be a solid conversation starter the next time he sees you.

You had a whole damn rack dedicated to all your favorite bands — “I put it together myself,” you’d bragged with a proud smile. S it’s a wonder Steve didn’t walk out with the entire damn store. Because you just kept on smiling and talking, so happy to have someone to care about what you had to say, and he ate up every second of it.

He’ll have to work overtime to keep his pockets from hurting, but it’ll be worth it. Because he’ll get to keep talking to you and indulging in all the things you seem to love more than life itself.

You’re still rambling as you ring him up. Steve notices you haven’t stopped yourself like you did before. His lack of dismissal has made you more comfortable, it seems. He likes that.

“I think we’re also gonna get a couple cases of Def Leppard cassettes tomorrow, which is super sick. I think I might have to start collecting, honestly. Tapes are whole lot cheaper than records, you know,” you tell him as you scan and bag all his vinyls. “And it’s also, like, a fucking stellar album. I don’t think I’ve stopped listening to Photograph since it came out.”

“Photograph. Right. Love that one,” Steve nods with a kind smile as he props his elbows on the counter. He doesn’t particularly care that he’s not entirely sure what you’re talking about, or that he’s never actually heard the song. He’s starting to realize you could talk for hours and he wouldn’t get bored.

“Oh, is that your favorite too? Eddie’s more of a Foolin’ kinda guy.”

Despite the fact that he’s never heard the song or this album in his life, he nods anyway.

He sort of spent the first eighteen years of his life faking just about everything — it kind of came with being the King of Hawkins High. It’s a talent that hasn’t yet left him, it seems, lying through his teeth to impress people. It’s almost become a second nature to him.

“Foolin’s good, yeah, but I think Photograph is obviously better.”

“Obviously, right!” you exclaim with a sunshine-coated laugh. “That’s exactly what I told him! But he’s way too hard-headed to be wrong about anything, so…”

“Well, I’d like to put it on the record that I firmly agree with you,” Steve replies so smoothly that his tongue must be dripping with honey. It’s so easy for him to fall into King Steve mode — when he isn’t forgetting how to speak and running off, that is.

You’ve learned a lot Steve in the past half hour. He likes metal, but leans more toward rock. Particularly all the metal and rock that you like. He hasn’t once had a differing opinion than you, besides telling you he heard Eddie playing a Metallica song once that he didn’t particularly care for. The second you tell him it’s one of your favorites, he backtracks instantly, blaming the Munson boy for being too sloshed to play it properly.

And you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you just now either, with his chin toward his chest as he peers up at you with warm amber eyes. He’s the charmer that he always was. It makes you remember, again, just who you’re talking to.

“We have a lot in common, King Steve,” you lilt with a playful grin.

He deflates at the use of the old nickname. You see the light in his eyes flicker for a just moment before he’s ducking his gaze away from you completely. He tries to brush it off with a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not— I’m not really King Steve anymore…”

“No?”

“Nope. Just… Just Steve these days.”

When he looks back at you, he finds you nodding at him, almost in approval.

Most people are upset to find that he’s changed so much. They hate that he’s no longer the recklessly stupid dumbass they used to get drunk with.

Not you, though.

“Cool,” you mumble, smiling softly, as you hand him his bag and receipt.

“Uh, I’d love to, you know, come take a look at those tapes when you get ‘em in,” he says as he walks backward towards the door, finally making the brash offer he’s been thinking about this whole time. “Maybe I can bring lunch and we can—”

“Well, Hellfire’s been doing campaigns during lunch recently. And Gareth’s out sick, so I’ve been subbing for him, you know, so…” you interject awkwardly, shifting your weight on your feet. You hate to turn him down, but Eddie might just kill you if he has to get a substitute for the substitute.

“Oh…” he nods, softly puckering his plump pink lips that you can’t seem to stop staring at.

“But I don’t think they’re coming in until late, anyway,” you add quickly. “So, you can stop by at closing, if you want?”

“No, yeah, that’s cool. So cool,” he replies, a little more flustered than he’d been just moments before. He’s just happy that your rejection wasn’t a total refusal.

You try to bite back the wide grin threatening to take over your mouth. “Okay… I’ll catch you later, then, Just Steve.”

“See you,” he waves right before startling himself when he backs into the basket of clearance tapes sitting just beside the door. He barely catches the thing before it tips over completely. He flashes you a shaking smile afterward and finds you covering your mouth with your hand while you try not to laugh too loudly.

He wishes you’d just went ahead and laughed at him. He wouldn’t have even cared that you were laughing at him, if it meant he got to see you smile.

And even though he’d just gotten done making the biggest fool of himself, he walks back to work feeling like the coolest man alive. There’s a foreign strut in his step that hadn’t been there before he saw you. It doesn’t leave him when he realizes he’s gone slightly over his break and that Keith is manning the counter in his absence.

The man mumbles a monotoned goodbye to the customer he’d just checked out.

She turns around and Steve realizes he recognizes this girl — Mindy or Mandy or maybe Monica — from Mr. Kaminsky’s class way back when. She did all of his homework for him before and after letting him fuck her on her twin-sized bed in her all pink room. That’s when Steve was conquering girls like they were Mount Everest, way before Nancy, when King was a title he wore with pride.

But he’s still so stuck in his head with thoughts of you that he doesn’t even see Mindy-Mandy-Monica or the flirtatious wave she throws his way.

“You’re ten minutes late,” Keith scolds, with his dead tone and his deader eyes.

Steve only shrugs, uncaring if it came out of his paycheck because — “I just got a date with the hottest woman on the planet,” he boasts with a puffed out chest and too smug smile.

It doesn’t lessen Keith’s anger, just diverts it. Because he knows exactly who he’s talking about. And so does Robin, as she pops her head out from behind the man from where she sits at the computer. “No way,” they chorus in disbelief at his words.

Steve nods. “Yes way.”

“Eddie’s gonna kill you,” Robin remarks with the shake of her head.

He knows she’s right. He just doesn’t care.

Eddie’s always been protective of you. Everyone knows that. But the two of them were friends now — or somewhat good-natured acquaintances, at the very least. He would’ve been mad about a year or more ago, if King Steve had decided to suddenly woo his best friend.

But it’s different now. He’s different now. Eddie knows how much everything’s changed, it’s just a question of if he’s willing to rehash old wounds.

It’s a good thing Steve knows how to take a punch.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Don't take my heart, don't break my heart.

Steve finds you again the next day less happy than he’s gotten used to.

The record store is dim and the red sign at the entrance has been flipped to closed, but the door is left unlocked — for him. The warm scent is a distinct contrast to the frigid spring night, a cozy high hemp and lavender, but your absence is noticeable and terribly heavy.

Steve lingers in the doorway, his shadow looming like a giant before him from the moonlight streaming in from outside.

He calls for you in the emptiness.

“Uh… Punchy?”

He’s relieved when you answer. The “back here!” you shout to him is muffled and far away. He follows the sound of your voice, filled suddenly with a childlike consolation.

The yellow fairy lights dangling over his head guide him through the aisles of cassettes and closer to you. Through a cluttered backroom, Steve finds you standing just outside an opened door — left ajar, for him.

The smile you flash when you see him is as dim as the closed-down store. It lacks all the sunshine you usually look at him with, shades of stormy gray rather than the usual yellows.

A look of concern flashes across his features — furrowed brows and inquisitive twinkling eyes — as you take a drag from the lit cigarette caught between your pointer and middle finger. You muster your best grin, but it flickers like a shoddy radio signal.

“Punchy, huh?” you tease.

Steve’s brows pinch together as confusion floods his features. It takes him a moment to realize what he’d said and the nickname he’d used — and he doesn’t want to be dramatic or anything, but he kinda wants to die. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, to hold on to an old high school monicker. And, fuck, if you hate it half as bad as he hates being called king, he deserves a slap to the face right about now.

You laugh instead of ball your first. He’s able to smile meekly in relief. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I… I don’t think I even realized it came out.”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure when you see him getting all apologetic. “Eddie still calls me that all the time, so… Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Steve tries to move on, but it’s hard to when you’re so obviously gloomy. He hates how reserved you’ve gone in your quiet, not talking up a storm like you had been the last time he saw you. Now you’re just… a storm. It’s a little like sitting next to a rumbling rain cloud.

The rumbling rain cloud beside him takes a drag of her cigarette.

“You okay?” he asks and sounds like he really cares.

You didn’t think King Steve was capable of caring about anything other than his hair, but he looks down at you like he can feel every blue bolt of your doom and gloom. He makes you feel seen in the void of your sadness despite all the years you spent being invisible to him.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just the tapes. They didn’t come in,” you answer with a shrug. Smokes leaves your mouth and lingers in white clouds in the air. “So I’m a little bummed.”

“Oh…” is all Steve says and his pink mouth forms a too pretty ‘o’ shape that you can’t draw your gaze from.

The following silence makes you momentarily cautious. Insecurity runs cold over you because no sane person gets this about upset over a broken promise of a couple cassettes. It’s stupid, you know it is, but you were really looking forward to them. It’s like promising a kid the most metal present ever and then snatching it out of their bare hands.

Now, over the course of a couple hours, you’ve managed to convince yourself you won’t remember happiness until you get those stupid tapes.

“Sorry,” you apologize to him for a reason he can’t place. You shift your weight on your feet and peer at him from beneath your lashes. “I know you were looking forward to them, too.”

You extend your hand and offer him the cigarette between your fingers like it’s an olive branch. He takes it from you with a distant smile, then opts to laze against the brick wall like you are. He stays a respectful distance on the other side of the entryway.

“It’s okay. They’ll come. If I’m being honest, you know, I was kinda more excited to see you.”

His admission is brazen and a tad bit brash, even for a certified ex-douchebag. It lacks all of the usual honey-coated flirtation that usually tints his tone when he’s talking to a pretty girl. Because he wasn’t trying to make you swoon — though he certainly wouldn’t have minded if you had. This wasn’t some romantic advance, just a proclamation of his own personal truth.

A flash of shock contorts your features. “Really?”

“Of course,” he answers, breathing out a laugh that exits along with the smoke in his lungs. “I love talking to you. You’re… You’re cool, you know? S— Super cool.”

His face screws up at his stuttering, and he shakes his head at how the words sound leaving his mouth. His cheeks glow cherry red beneath an orange street lamp.

“Super cool, huh?” you repeat with a giggle that’s bright enough to illuminate the velvet night. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”

Steve scoffs when he passes the cigarette back to you. Because, lately, that’s all he’s been hearing about you. From Eddie, from Robin, from Dustin — every good thing a person could say about someone else, they all say about you.

He’s starting to understand why.

Because you’re sweet. Like, pure sugar poured on the tip of his tongue kind of sweet. You’re bright like sunshine and soft like summer rain. You’re a shot of pure espresso for a boy who thought his life was at a dead end. He’s not entirely sure how he ever could’ve thought you were some deep, dark, devil-worshipping freak.

“I don’t believe that,” he dismisses with the shake of his head.

You breathe out a sharp exhale and a puff of nicotine-coated smoke. “I’ve been the town pariah since I was eleven, Steve. Everyone thinks I’m some kinda delinquent who’s in a cult because I play a dumb board game. So, no. No one’s ever thought I was cool before.”

“Still?” Steve wonders with a twisted face. “You graduated, like, a year ago. Are... Are people really still on your ass about that?”

“A little,” you answer with a shrug, trying your best not to look as affected by it all as you feel.

Steve feels his chest swell with the fiery urge to protect you. The same one he gets when Dustin tells him about the assholes at school that are bothering him. He wants to defend you from the same sort of assholes that he used to be. The impulse is borderline primal, rooted somewhere deep and far within himself, because god knows he’s got a terrible track record when it comes to winning fights.

“Shit, Punchy… I’m— I’m sorry.”

You sputter out a laugh at the apology, louder when you realize he’s using the nickname again.

He can’t relate to any of this. The trials and tribulations of being persona non grata everywhere you went were certainly lost on him. Steve might’ve lost his touch somewhere down the road, but he’ll always be crown royalty — the kind of guy you think fondly of when your wonderyears are long gone. But you? You’re lucky if people don’t cross to the other side of the street when they spot you coming.

Perhaps that’s why his words warm you so much. Because, despite all that, he’s trying to make you feel better anyway.

You give him a tender smile and a dwindling cigarette.

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s whatever, you know? I think it’s because I still hang out with Eddie all the time. Like, people see us and remember what fucking freaks we used to be,” you say with a laugh, then start to ramble without thinking. “We saw Tommy Hagan at Melvald’s the other day, and he looked at us like we caused him severe PTSD or something, like, he looked terrified. I honestly felt a little bad.”

Steve smiles, wide-eyed, equal parts intrigued and unsettled by the reminiscent glimmer in your eye and the daunting giggle that spills from your lips.

“But I wouldn’t leave Eddie, you know?” you blurt, suddenly serious, like you’ve taken offense at the very thought. “Not even if it meant people stopped being so mean. ‘Cause I love him and everything… Even though he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he’s a total pain in the ass,” Steve agrees and flicks the butt of the cig between his fingers. “He loves you too, though. I can tell. The asshole never shuts up about you.”

“He talks about me?” you ask, voice fragile and pitched higher than normal.

Steve doesn’t like the way you say it. He hates how you look at him even more, with a scrunched up face and eyes that flicker with embers of shock. Like you don’t believe it, like you think yourself unworthy of it.

“You’re all he talks about,” the boy assures, feeling so suddenly brave and wanting to make you feel brave too. He hands the cigarette back to you. “I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d never shut up about you either.”

The contorted look of confusion on your face untwists itself, and your features fall flat with disbelief. A smile pulls slow at your mouth. Your eyes glitter an orange gold beneath the streetlight. They flit over to the boy beside you just long enough to take the stick from him.

“Steve Harrington…” you lilt, almost scoldingly so.

It makes him smile. “What?”

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Well, that’s very presumptuous of you,” he retorts playfully. “Who’s to say I was flirting?”

“So you weren’t then?”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs with a knowing, practiced smirk. “Can you blame me?”

You don’t seem impressed by his not-so-subtle attempt at flirting, and he isn’t at all used to that. The bravado and the puppy dog eyes are his one-two punch — any other time, he’d have a phone number tucked safely in his pocket by now. But you’re not biting.

“I’m so not your type,” you dismiss with the shake of your head.

“Yeah?” he challenges, shoving himself off the brick wall with his shoulder and making the short trek over to you. He plants himself next to you, leans with one sneaker crossed over the other, and smiles with a playful twinkle in his eye. “And what’s my type?”

“Nancy Wheeler,” you answer without missing a beat. “Pretty girls.”

“Well, I think you’re very pretty—”

“Not like her,” you interject with a foreign firmness that Steve hasn’t seen from you until now. You’re still smiling at him, though, still kind but looking like you don’t believe him. Like you think this must be some kind of sick joke that he’s taking too far.

You can entertain Steve. You like Steve. Mostly because he’s totally different from the douchebag you remember him being — the douchebag you were expecting him to be.

You find that he’s terribly clumsy and not overtly good with words. He says dumb jokes that don’t come out right and smiles in relief when they make you laugh anyway. He’s soft like peach fuzz or a fluffy cloud, mushy like warm chocolatey gooey goodness, and not at all like you remember him.

But then he does this. He morphs into something else, changes shape right in front of you. He smiles at you with little of his dumbassery behind it — all smirks and faux longing gazes with the intent of making you swoon at his feet. He grins down at you and all you see is the teenage boy who would’ve never looked at you that way four years ago. Hell, not even one.

It reminds you of who he is, who he used to be, and who you are now.

You haven’t changed so much since high school. You’ve matured a little, sure, but there was never an asshole exterior that you felt the need to outgrow. You’re still loud at times, unaware and ignorant of the world around you. You still play lightsabers outside Eddie’s trailer in between lengthy Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. You still pretend like the lingering glares from all the people you used to know don’t bother you.

They do, though. They always have.

You look at Steve and you see this butterfly — someone made of rainbow colors and mostly mature. He’s growing, and you’re stuck in the same cocoon you’ve been wrapped in since freshman year, still fumbling around and trying to figure out where you fit.

He’ll always be the pretty butterfly he always was, with his pretty little iridescent wings that catch the light and all the attention. He’ll feed off the applause he gets while you’re sitting on the sidelines. The girl who’s destined to stay bundled in her cocoon forever only hears all of his praise — never watches, never receives.

“You and I are completely different people, Steve Harrington,” you declare with a grin that tells him you’ve already made up your mind.

The boy doesn’t get it, though, why you seem so upset by the idea. Him and Robin were completely different people. Him and Dustin were, too. The two people he adored — tolerated — most in the entire world weren’t a single thing like him, and it was better that way.

You don’t seem to share a similar philosophy, though. You take a drag from your mostly gone cigarette and mourn what could have been; if only he had been the town freak or you had been born the pretty girl next door.

“That doesn’t have to be such a bad thing—”

He’s abruptly cut off by the sound of muffled rock music and the bright yellow headlights of Eddie Munson’s van. The two of you shield your eyes when he whips into the desolate parking lot and parks in front of you. The sudden intrusion feels like being blinding like the sun after you’ve found such comfort within each other in the dead of night.

The stifled Def Leppard song — or maybe Poison, Steve can never quite tell the difference — is brought to a sharp halt when the engine shuts off. The headlights dim. The metallic slam of the driver’s side door sounds so much louder in the darkness.

Eddie rounds the front of his van and eyes the two of you rather suspiciously. The boy inhales deeply, puffing out his chest and splaying his hands on his hips. “…What’s going on here?” he squints at you.

You give him a terribly manufactured sunshine smile and bat your lashes his way, like you’re pretending to be un-innocent. “Nothing…” you sing-song.

Eddie rolls his eyes at you, then turns his attention to Steve. They’re not really strangers anymore, but he still feels the need to treat him like an outsider anyway.

“Harrington,” he says in the place of any real greeting. “Don’t you have other shit to do? Like, I don’t know, a shift as the mannequin at the GAP or something?”

Steve can’t find it in himself to get self-conscious about his fitted-sweatshirt, khaki-slack combo when the insult comes from a guy in a decade-old leather jacket, unwashed t-shirt, and ripped jeans.

“Very funny,” the brunette monotones.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” you ask when you turn and walk backwards towards Eddie, like there’s a gravitational pull dragging you to him.

You say it to be polite mostly, but you’re hoping for an affirmative — a promise that you’ll have another night like this one, where he sees you just to be seeing you. Hell, you’ll even take a nod if that’s all he’ll give you. And when he does, he gives you a tiny smile that almost makes you trip over yourself.

Fuck, you think to yourself, like your brain is talking to your heart. We just agreed not to do that.

Before you get in the van, you walk by Eddie and bring your cigarette up to his mouth. You coax the stick between his lips with your pointer and middle finger, opting to let him take the last couple of hits because he never turns down a free smoke.

The passenger door shuts once you’re tucked into the seat of it. The sound it makes punctuates your absence. Steve feels all of its emptiness.

He eyes Eddie from the distance, immediately noticing the darkened skepticism dancing in his dark eyes.

The boy’s always felt the need to protect you. When the entire town got spooked about stories of some satanic panic and started treating you like monsters, he wanted to shield you from the boogeyman everyone turned into.

Steve wasn’t one of them, the bad men. But Eddie loves you and it’s made him doubtful.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Steve feels the need to say, as though he’d been caught with his pants down and not just sharing an innocent cigarette with a friend.

Eddie takes the final few puffs of it and exhales rather dramatically, lips pursing to blow it in his direction though it’s too far away to hit him. The boy throws the filter to the concrete and extinguishes the ashes with the toe of his dirty sneakers.

He waits until the white smoke has fully dissipated to speak.

“Damn right, it isn’t.”

That’s all he says. He doesn’t even look at Steve when he says it, or when he rounds the van and hops into the driver’s seat next to you. Steve squints when the too bright headlights come alive again in time with the roaring engine and dated rock music. His tires screech when he speeds out of the back parking lot.

The tin can he drives nearly tips over when he turns too sharply onto Main Street.

Steve doesn’t get a chance to get a good look at you before you’re gone completely. It makes him all boyishly upset, knowing the hours without you will be most agonizing, but the empty feeling is eclipsed by the warm relief of not getting clock cleaned by Eddie Munson.

Damn right, it isn’t. Four words. That’s all he gets. But they’re daunting and coated with a lingering foreboding that feels almost like a threat.

So, by all accounts, Steve probably should’ve known there was no way Munson was ever going to back down that easily.

Eddie comes back the next day, a thundering storm cloud of the boy he usually is, head wild with curly hair and a million thoughts.

The door dings far too gently for such an aggressive arrival. Metal bangs against metal as the handle collides with the window pane. He stomps to the counter in several quick strides, dark eyes darting around the half-empty store — obviously searching for something.

Robin, manning the front counter, is entirely unable to be threatened by him. The all black, chunky metal rings, and crazy hair stopped being so intimidating when she found out you called him Eddie Spaghetti. Now, it’s all she can think about when she sees him.

Even as he stands ahead of her, obviously upset, all she sees is a very cartoonishly angry Eddie Spaghetti, and it takes everything in her not to laugh.

“Where’s Steve?” the boy finally wonders when he realizes the boy’s not in the front.

“Uh, he’s in the back, I think. Why?”

Eddie doesn’t humor her with an answer. He just storms past the counter and makes a b-line for the break room.

Robin watches him over her shoulder. “You’re not supposed to go back there!” she half-heartedly shouts, but makes no further effort to stop him from doing so.

He finds Steve working beneath the dim yellow light of the back room. There’s a warmed-up container of leftovers on the small round table on one side of the room and a stack of unorganized tapes on the counter on the other. Steve multitasks between both and hums something summery under his breath — The Beach Boys, maybe.

He’s too distracted to notice Eddie’s abrupt appearance. It’s the subtle click of the shut door that gets his attention.

Steve’s confused at first. His head snaps over his shoulder like a ghost must’ve closed the door on him. He realizes that it’s just Eddie, and he’s so innocently relieved that it’s almost humorous, then confused all over again. His brows pinch together and through the chicken tender jutting out his check, he mumbles: “You’re not supposed to be back here—”

“Yeah, I got that part,” Eddie interrupts in a monotone.

He swallows. It’s as thick as the tension that settles between the two of them, made heavier by the lengthy silence. He crosses his arms over his chest, stands up a little straighter, and bares his neck when he lifts his chin. “I want you to leave her alone.”

Steve scoffs and chews through his mouthful. “Leave who alone?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Eddie squints with an unusual sort of seriousness. “I don’t want you messing around with her anymore, man. I’m, fucking— I’m so fucking serious right now.”

The clarification makes Steve laugh. He shakes his head and goes back to piling the myriad of tapes into organized stacks on the counter. “We were just talking, Eddie. I don’t need the lecture, okay?”

“We both know it’s never just talking with you.”

“What? Are you in love with her or something?” he retorts, trying to make a joke of it.

Eddie, for the first time in his life, isn’t amused. “Oh, god, get over yourself, dude. I know what kinda guy you are, alright? I’m not gonna let you hurt her.”

His words hit Steve like a pot of boiling water. It prickles his skin, leaving blisters and burning red blotches in its wake. He’s all but on fire with his anger, less offended by the accusation than by the person it comes from.

Steve and Eddie aren’t friends by any means. They’re just two guys with shared custody of a bunch of teenagers, bonded in their want to keep them all safe. But through their lighthearted animosity, is a sort of understanding: neither of them are the assholes the entire town claims them to be. Eddie isn’t apart of some satanic cult. Steve isn’t a douchebag that uses women as accessories. And that’s just a silent agreement they’ve both come to on their own terms.

But now here they are, talking like it’s 1984 all over again and they’re strangers who hate each other’s guts.

“No. I’m not gonna hurt her. Because we’re just friends, Eddie.”

The boy just shakes his head. He scrunches his nose like he’s wincing, then laughs — a big, dramatic laugh that fills the tiny break room. He begins to pace, waving an accusatory ringed finger Steve’s way. “No, see… That’s the thing. I don’t think King Steve is capable of being ‘just friends’ with a pretty girl.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a heavy huff. He comes to the conclusion that Eddie’s just projecting and that there’s no use in arguing his case. He shoves a black VHS tape into its designated sleeve and slots it in with the rest of them, muttering under his breath, “I’m not King Steve anymore…”

“What?”

“I said, I’m not King Steve anymore!” he yells, a bit louder than he intended to.

He drives a tape onto the pile with an unexpected aggression. It hits the wall with a resounding thud. His arms flail wildly at his sides when he turns to face Eddie again. “God, you guys act like people can’t change! I’m not the asshole I used to be, alright? Jeez…”

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in the place of any real reply. Deep down, he knows all that. He knows it’s all true because he would’ve never befriended him otherwise. Steve Harrington — the king, the rich kid, the douchebag — turned out to be a pretty damn good guy.

And maybe if Eddie didn’t love you so much, he’d be able to wrap his head around all that.

But does. So he can’t.

He saw you two together the night before, sharing a cigarette behind The Groove — albeit a little too close for his liking — and suddenly, it was junior year all over again.

You’re stressed out about the ACT and college acceptance rates, none of your clothes quite fit you, and you’re trying out bold things with your makeup that don’t quite fit you either. You grin wildly up at Eddie through the vibrant lipstick smeared on your lips, laughing at his half-hearted attempt to cheer you up.

And Steve is a senior, standing on the other side of the hallway — with his pretty clothes and prettier hair — and he lets all of his friends laugh at you. They make fun of your un-styled hair and the way your shirt makes your boobs look, and Steve doesn’t find any of it particularly funny but he lets them mock you anyway.

Eddie sees you together and forgets about the man Steve is now. All he sees is a boy who never stuck up for you, for either of you, who let his best friends make your lives hell because his reputation mattered more.

And it wasn’t like it was his job to defend you, because it wasn’t. Not really. It’s just that you would’ve done it for him, if the roles were reversed. Eddie, too. Neither of you would’ve let a lamb be led to the slaughter quite like that. It was the Hellfire motto, after all — to protect the little sheep from the creeping wolves.

That’s where the difference lies. It’s where the mistrust settles deep and where the root of all of Eddie’s worries lingers.

But Steve has done more to prove himself than Eddie likes to give him credit for.

He takes care of a bunch of kids like it’s his job. He runs Robin to and from school most days out of the week, on time each morning — which, for a guy who showed up late every day for four years, was definitely saying something. He even comes to Eddie’s shows when he’s not too busy working the graveyard shift, never minding that he sticks out in his collared shirt and slacks — a pretty boy amidst a crowd of freaks.

Fuck. Steve Harrington was a pretty alright dude.

But you’re better than alright. You’re better than good. Better than perfect.

If you got your heart broken, Eddie thinks he’d feel all of it times a thousand.

Steve’s been through his own kind of heartbreak, though. He’s slapped a bandaid over his own bleeding heart, and it’s made him soft. The good kind of soft — the kind where he sees a bug on its back and has to flip it over because it hurts too much to let it suffer. Eddie knows he’ll be that kind to you. Kinder, even.

“Yeah, you better hope so, Harrington,” the boy concludes with a slow nod of his wild head. He steals a chicken tender from the styrofoam box it sits in, like it’s some kind of power move, and waves it at him like a condemnatory point. “I hear you do anything — anything — to her… And your ass is grass.”

Eddie takes a hearty bite from the strip, then tosses it back into the container again. He spins on the ragged heel of his sneaker and stalks out of the break room, punctuating his absence with the slam of the door. The ancient thing gets lodged and doesn’t quite shut all the way, so he has to double back and shut it fully.

Steve is left dumbfounded, in more ways than one.

“…He just ate my chicken,” he mumbles to himself with a frown settled deep between his brows. But there’s a lingering tension in Eddie’s storming out — a tangible fog within his words that settles something heavy in the Family Video breakroom that doubles as storage.

It feels almost like a blessing.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Won't escape my attention...

The more time you spend with Steve, the more confident you get.

You visit him at work more often, caring less and less about bothering anybody when you realize they all wanted you there. You let yourself ramble in front of him, too, not stopping yourself nearly as often as you used to. Steve guesses you started to believe him somewhere around the millionth time he promised he liked hearing you talk.

You turn to glitter in his presence, becoming more unapologetically yourself and glowing with it — with all the things that used to make you insecure, things that King Steve would’ve made fun of you for some time ago. Everything you were scared made you too different, is why he liked you in the first place.

And Steve gets to watch it all play out right before his eyes. You inch slowly out of the protective shell you’ve built around yourself and bloom like springtime flowers. He’s grateful he gets to witness it, even more that you feel comfortable enough to do it all in front of him.

You’re hardly as timid as you usually are when you saunter into Family Video. Rather than tiptoeing in and apologizing for intruding, you burst through the front door with a beam and a high-pitched squeal. You’re as bright as every star in the galaxy combined; even dressed head-to-toe in black, you’re more blinding than the sun.

Eddie’s leather jacket, either stolen or unenthusiastically lent from the boy himself, swallows your upper half. You wear a piece of Metallica merchandise beneath it. The thing is cut up to your ribcage. The jagged edges in the fabric, likely from a dull pair of kitchen scissors, tells him the chop was intentional.

A leather skirt clings effortlessly onto you, revealing the pudge of your stomach and the curves of your hips. The thing is donned with two spiked belts and several chains hanging loosely at your waist.

Steve is dozing at the counter with his chin propped on his first when you walk in. He’s half-asleep until he sees you. The shot of espresso that walks in makes him instantly forget how tired he is.

“Guess what?” you ask with wide, sparkling eyes as you skip to the counter with your hands behind your back.

Steve always hated that question. Usually, it came from Dustin or Robin — or, god forbid, both of them — followed by a “No, seriously. Guess.” It left him with no choice but to humor them until they ultimately caved and told him something he couldn’t have guessed in a million years.

He isn’t so annoyed now, though. In fact, he smiles. “What?” he replies.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, as though in a futile attempt to conceal the wide grin on your face, and take your hands from behind your back. You flash him the cassette tape you hold in the palm of them, a blue and yellow thing with the angled Def Leppard logo printed on the cover.

“No way!” Steve finds himself exclaiming like he’s the number one fan of the rock and roll band. He isn’t; never has been, really. But he is a fan of you. All of his excitement, all of his bright and shining smiles — they’re all for you.

“They came in last night— when I was off, of course— and I opened this morning and there was a whole damn tower of these tapes! I’m the one who does the tape towers, okay? Plus, I’ve been doggin’ my manager for weeks about the things, so I can’t believe they came in and no one told me, you know?”

Steve gets lost in your rambling right along with you, nodding because he never wants you to stop talking. His twinkling gaze follows you back and forth as you pace in front of the counter. You gesticulate wildly with your hands, nearly elbowing a customer when they get too close to the line of fire.

“And she was all like ‘I can’t control when they come in,’ And I was like ‘well, you can’t control when I come in either, I’ll be taking a long lunch now, thank you’—” you recount, albeit at a slightly louder volume that shocks anyone who doesn’t know you. People shoot you lingering side eyes from over the aisles.

Steve doesn’t care. He’s even happier that you don’t seem to either. You feel comfortable enough with him now to stop caring about the rest. When you stop yourself, you do it because you’ve said everything you need to say, not because you feel like you’ve annoyed him in some way.

“Anyway,” you conclude with a sigh. “I wanted to run it to you personally because, besides Eddie, you’re the only person I know who cares as much as I do.”

You smile sweetly at him, peering at him through your lashes, so suddenly timid — no longer the boisterous girl lighting up the whole room. Steve notices that you do that a lot, go from loud and sunny to shy and glimmering. Eddie does it too, sometimes, but it’s not nearly as cute.

“My wallet’s in my locker,” he tells you when you hand him the tape. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder with his free hand. “Let me go grab it. I’ll be, like, two seconds—”

You reach over the counter and take him by the arm, wrapping chipped maroon nails around the crook of his elbow to keep him from straying too far. Shock coats his features at the suddenness of your touch and the way it makes him buzz.

You scoff. “Are you serious? I’m not gonna make you pay, you weirdo.”

“No?”

“Of course not! It’s a gift.”

“Well, gee, Punchy. Considered me flattered,” he concedes with a faltering smile.

You laugh at his half-hearted attempt to be charming.

He rests his crossed arms on the counter and leans over the top of it in an effort to be the slightest bit closer to you. He gazes up at you with honey eyes and raised brows and a big, dumb smile. “And, you know, flattery... it goes a long way with me.”

You arch an un-manicured brow at him. “Does it, now?”

“Yep. So much so, I’m willing to break a few rules and let you pick out a couple of movies. On the house.”

It’s dumb and it’s sweet and so terribly innocent. He wants to give you so much than that but he’s got about eighteen dollars to his name, so all he can do is offer you a few measly VHS tapes. It has you beaming like he just offered you the world.

“Steve Harrington,” you scold playfully. “I didn’t know you were so naughty.”

He falters. His resolve slips and, for no more than half a second, his brain forgets how to work.

He’s not quite sure how you manage to do that to him all the damn time. You make his brain shortcircuit and his belly quiver and his vision swim. He’s known you for a while now, long enough that the lovesickness should’ve well worn off.

Steve’s worried that there’s no cure for you, that he’s in it for the long haul now — upset stomachs, heart palpitations, and all.

“Well, I’m full of surprises,” he shrugs and sways on his feet. “What’s your poison, Punchy? Molly Ringwald? Robert Downey Jr.? The John Hughes type?”

You can tell he’s joking. You squint over at him and rest your elbows on the counter top your face-to-face.

The wintergreen mint on his breath makes your head swim.

Your rouge-tined lips are so close he can taste them — he wants to, desperately so.

You don’t miss the way his gaze flits to your mouth, lingering there for no longer than a blink.

“Try Night of the Living Dead,” you challenge.

“That is so dreadfully on brand for you,” he manages to reply without much stuttering. He’s surprised he’s able to get any words out at all, with the way his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“I’m nothing if not predictable.”

Steve doesn’t respond as he leaves the counter to get what you asked for. Silence is easier than saying that you’re the most surprising thing he’s ever met in his life.

When he returns, he brings the entire film franchise with him. All three movies are stacked in his arms and he scans the backs of them, hoping Keith won’t notice that they’re being rented free of charge.

“Have you ever seen them?” you wonder.

He shakes his head. “No. I saw one of them at a drive-in a long time ago, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention, if you know what I mean—” he answers with a soft laugh, quick to cut himself off. It was supposed to be a dumb joke, but both of you know what he was insinuating and it makes everything awkward.

Robin would’ve slapped him on the back of the head if she were around to hear it.

He would’ve deserved it.

“Well, you missed out,” you scold, not quite meeting his gaze. “They’re actually pretty good.”

“I’ll try and watch ‘em sometime then.”

“Tonight?” you offer suddenly.

Steve furrows his brows. “…Huh?”

“I mean, like— I don’t know… I thought maybe we could watch them tonight,” you stammer with your eyes turned down toward the counter, where you draw invisible patterns onto the granite with the tip of your finger. “Like, together… if you want.”

Steve is momentarily speechless. He’s spent weeks plotting how he was going to ask you out. It would come to him in waves. He’d feel like he’d concocted the most perfect, foolproof plan right before realizing there was no way in hell he could ever go through with it — all in the same fleeting thought.

But here you are, biting the bullet for the both of you.

He’s grateful. He thinks he’s dreaming.

“That sounds…” Steve trails off with the mindless nod of his head. “Yeah. No. Totally. That sounds… really cool.”

A wide smile pulls at the edges of your lips. You purse your mouth to the side in attempts to conceal it. “Cool,” you murmur all cool-ly, like his affirmation isn’t heaven to your ears.

“Uh, not to sound like a total douchebag or whatever, but my dad— he’s got this theater room and everything, and my parents are almost never home,” Steve rambles as he puts all three movies into a paper bag. Then his eyes go wide and his face glows cherry red. “Not like that! I didn’t mean it like— That sounded really weird… I’m sorry—”

You giggle at him, at the way he can pretend to be so suave, and then reveal all the marshmallow fluff he tries to keep hidden a moment later. “It’s okay, Steve. I got what you meant.”

He writes his address on a yellow sticky note with the Family Video logo printed in green at the very top. His handwriting is boyish and sloppy, the sign of a boy who never did care much about school. Some letters are connected, others far apart; some written too big, while others are too small. You find it endearing, but Steve knows it’s just because his hand was shaking something fierce.

He leaves his number written at the very bottom. Just for good measure.

“No funny business, alright, Harrington?” you joke, waving a ringed finger at him as you walk backward out of the store, heading back to your own job.

Steve bites back a smile. Once upon a time, he was all funny business. No girl was ever going to invite King Steve over and not expect some heavy petting. And he wants so badly to kiss you — fuck, he wants to kiss you all the time — but the want to spend innocent time with you eclipses all of those boyish feelings.

He yearns to be close to you. Like magnets. Or a moon and the ocean’s tide.

“No funny business,” he promises.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You keep your distance with a system of touch.

It isn’t until you arrive at the front gates of the Harrington home you realize you’ve never been in the suburbs of Hawkins before.

You grew up on the very outskirts of town, where there were more trees than people or houses. The block was half rundown already and horribly secluded. The only interesting thing about it was the winding trail through the woods that led to the anterior of Forest Hills trailer park.

That’s where you spent the bulk of your time, practically living with Eddie and Wayne in their one-bedroom trailer, until you felt guilty enough to go back home for a day or two. Your parents would inevitably remind you why you ran off in the first place, and then the cycle would start all over again.

It was all just far enough away from Hawkins that you could pretend like the town’s bullshit didn’t exist. The freak from the wrong side of the tracks didn’t belong on Maple Street or Fairview Road or Laurel Avenue. That was for people who could afford new shoes every school year, who could go clothes shopping and not feel guilty about cutting into their food money, who were set up with trust funds before they were even born.

But here you are now, on Fairview Road, seven o’clock sharp, and standing in front of the biggest house you’d ever seen.

You ring the doorbell and flinch when it’s louder than expected. The chime is light and jaunty. You wonder if it’s been programmed for the change in season.

Steve answers no more than a couple seconds later. He swings both French doors open, arms spreading wide like the smile on his face.

He’s traded in his slacks for comfier jeans and his vest for a form-fitting sweatshirt he’s bunched at the elbows. You realize, then, that you’ve never seen him without the forest green Family Video jacket. It makes him look naked, almost, like a totally different person — no longer the dork who works a measly nine-to-five with his best friend and visits the freak next door on the off chance his manager won’t dock his pay for it.

The vest had humbled him to a certain extent. Now he just looks cool. Like the boy people would either praise or avoid like the plague, for fear of getting in King Steve’s path — just a little bit more mature looking now, with his chiseled jaw and scruffy chin.

It makes you feel a little stupid from where you stand on the porch ahead of him, wearing the same thing he’d seen you in earlier that day. He’s got no idea you spent the past couple of hours agonizing over what to wear. For the sake of not seeming crazy overzealous, you opted not to dress up. Now you’re scared he thinks you just didn’t care enough to.

But you do care. So goddamn much that’s it scary.

You never had to worry about what you wore or what you looked like before you left the house, about what you had too much of and what you lacked. Now, it’s all you can think about.

If Steve notices anything at all, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps on smiling at you, too happy to see you to care about what you’re wearing. He’s just glad that you showed up.

Truth be told, he had a six-pack and Robin’s number on speed dial on the off chance you canceled on him. He was preparing himself to wallow in self-pity and spend the rest of the night ranting to his best friend about the bleeding heart he had for you. Because, as far as he was concerned, you were far too good to be true.

You were beautiful and funny and kind and perfect. You treat him like you’ve known him for years, like he didn’t spend so many of them avoiding you in attempts to keep some measly title that didn’t mean shit. You were too perfect. Sometimes, Steve gets scared that he just made you up.

But whether you’re a dream come true or the real thing, you’re standing on his front porch anyway, with a smile and a bottle of grocery store wine.

He saves the beer in his fridge and the wallowing for another day.

Steve escorts you through his lavish living room and to the downstairs area that’s got a movie screen hanging on the walls and a couple of leather couches sitting in front of it. The coffee table in front of them holds a myriad of glass bowls — popcorn, various candies, and more popcorn.

“You planning on throwin’ a party down here, Harrington?” you tease with a soft chuckle, trying to conceal how your heart’s about to burst at the mere sight of it all.

“Well, I just— I didn’t know what you liked, and I didn’t— I wanted to make sure you had something to eat, you know,�� the boy stammers out. He brings the palm of his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “So I just… I got… everything.”

“It’s a good thing a like everything then, huh?” you smile at him as you pluck a Red Vine from its dedicated bowl. You rip off an inch or two with your teeth and then talk as you chew: “I hope you’re prepared for all of this shit get eaten, Harrington. I can get quite ravenous.”

Steve nods to himself and tries not to smile too big. “Sounds entertaining… Maybe I’ll just watch you instead of the movie.”

It was supposed to be a joke.

But then you settled down next to him on the couch, keeping a respectful distance but sharing the same fuzzy blanket, and he has to physically force himself to drag his gaze away from you.

He was right about what he said before, you were far more entertaining than the black and white film projected ahead of him — grabbing handfuls of popcorn at a time and quoting the movie through the mouthful.

It’s a tad bit barbaric, the faintest bit off-putting, and otherworldly levels of endearing. It leaves him virtually unable to take his eyes off of you.

He didn’t think you could get more beautiful, but you keep on proving him wrong.

He’s starting to realize he doesn’t know shit.

You’re slowly coming to the same understanding.

You’ve heard stories about Steve. Usually from gossiping cheerleaders standing in circles at their lockers or whispering in the back of a classroom. Doomed as the freak and all but banished from the inner society of Hawkins High, you became an observer. You were so invisible that people sometimes didn’t realize they were talking right over you, sharing secrets they wouldn’t want someone else to get a hold of.

But apparently you were the exception. Because you weren’t a someone to them.

They talked about how kind he was, how well endowed, how they were meant to go on some stupid date but missed their reservation because Steve got a little too handsy beforehand, and how they spent the rest of the night with their hands shoved down each other’s pants at Lover’s Lake.

You were seeing, firsthand, how much he’d changed. How he made his promise of no funny business and how he was sticking to it — no teasing you about the whole thing with a knowing smirk and flirtatious honey eyes, no urging to close this distance between you, no tiny touches on your arm or thigh in the hopes of heavier petting.

He spends the entirety of the first movie perfectly respectful. Just like you’d asked him to be.

And it was nice, knowing that you weren’t wasting your evening with some asshole who was only spending time with you in the hopes of you putting out later. But it leaves you the faintest bit empty. Hungry. You long for his touch like a missed meal. Starving and feeling it all.

It’s not even heavy petting you want, you just want to feel him next to you — to press yourself into his side and to warm yourself with him like a blanket.

But you weren’t a pretty cheerleader or a girl dripping in expensive clothes and daddy’s money. You were the weirdo, the freak, the loudmouth nerd, Punchy — all names you wore proudly, like lit-up signs or steel armor.

Until now.

Now you think if you weren’t Punchy, if were you someone different, then maybe he’d want to touch you more.

The first hour and thirty-seven minutes of your favorite movie are strangely agonizing.

Your hands itch with the desire to touch the boy next to you, and they busy themselves with the bowls of candy and savory junk food splayed out on the table in front of you. It’s mindless more than it is anything. You’re absentminded binging does nothing more than half-distract you from the thoughts raging rivers in your skull.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it until your hand falls into an empty bowl of popcorn and finds nothing but kernels at the bottom of it.

It makes Steve laugh, thinking you were just too into the movie to notice — having no idea it was him taking up all your brain power.

He leaves to fix more snacks for you while you slip the second VHS into the movie player. He returns with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and two beers after the wine bottle has been sufficiently emptied. When he plops down next to you again, it’s in the same spot he’d been sitting in all night — a couple of excruciating inches away.

Under the guise of sharing the popcorn in his lap, you make the too bold decision to slither in at his side. It’s innocent at first — your thighs just barely graze and your elbows bump when you dip your hands into the bowl. And it’s still innocent some thirty minutes later, when you find yourself resting your head on his shoulder with your legs curled up behind you.

Steve tenses when he feels your temple pressed against him, but only for a moment before he relaxes again. It makes him all suddenly warm and self-aware of every movement he makes. He tries not to breathe too heavy or shift too often, for fear it might jostle you too much. He doesn’t want to stop feeling you against him like this, even if it’s got his skin prickling with a searing form of anxiety.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep,” he jokes.

“Of course not. It’s way too riveting,” you scoff, even though he can feel you cuddling further into him. Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt when you look up at him. He turns his head to peer down at you and his nose nearly grazes your forehead.

He finds you with a certain glint in your eye. It’s borderline playful, like it so often is, but coated with a sweetness that drips over him like honey. “You like it so far?” you wonder.

“Yeah,” the boy nods quickly. He couldn’t tell you what had happened the past two-and-a-half films, but he could tell you how your jaw tenses when you chew and how your smile curls just before you laugh out loud and how your eyes widen every time you quote the movie. “It’s really good. I like it.”

You beam at him before turning back to the projector again. You shift to get more comfortable against him. “Good.”

By the third movie, you’re somehow even closer.

Truth be told, Day of the Dead wasn’t your favorite in the trilogy, so it left your mind wandering to far off places — namely, the pretty boy sitting beside you. He goes to put the tape into the projector, feeling immediately cold without pressing into his side, and when he returns he tries his best not to beg you to cuddle against him again.

“My shoulder’s gettin’ real cold over here,” he tries to joke.

You see right through his beckoning, though. It makes you happy to know he wants it just as much as you do.

“Just say you wanna be next to me, Harrington,” you tease like you aren’t happily obliging him. You snuggle into his shoulder and rest your head against him while your arms curl around his bicep.

“I wanna be next to you,” he repeats, a playful smile on his lips though his gaze softens with sincerity. “Is that so bad?”

You shake your head against him in reply. Suddenly as mushy as the boy beside you, you turn to look up at him. “Not unless it’s bad that I wanna be next to you, too…”

“Nah. It’s not bad,” he assures in something short of a whisper. “Guess I’m just glad I’m not the only one that’s so far gone.”

He doesn’t elaborate on what he means by that. He doesn’t have to.

Perhaps it’s the admission that this boy is so far gone for you that gives you a sudden burst of confidence. Maybe it’s the comforting feeling of being seen, of knowing you’re no longer alone in your similar far gone-ness. Each feels like rays of sunshine to your skin and has you pressing your lips to his wanting ones without much thought.

The plump pink of his mouth are magnets for yours. They meet and lock together with little effort, almost destined to do it. It’s a soft, meager, and lingering little peck that sucks you both in a little too easily. It’s hard to pull away from him, but when you do, your lips click in protest.

Then there’s a look, then a deafening silence that says more words than either of you were capable of forming in that moment. His amber eyes dart between both of yours, asking a question without saying a goddamn thing. One that you answer with your own softening gaze.

And it’s almost better than the kiss itself, the swirling feeling in the pits of your stomach, the knowing of what’s about to happen.

A silent plea and a blink later and his lips are on yours again.

It’s an awkward mess of yearning mouths and tangled limbs as the both of you fight to find purchase on one another. Your fingers knot in the collar of his sweatshirt, pulling him impossibly closer, while his grip the bare skin of your waist from where your shirt had ridden up. His touch makes you buzz, like a static shock or a bolt of lightning.

Steve makes several observations when he feels you melt into him like honey on toast. He notices how you press yourself into him, like you won’t be satisfied until you’ve swallowed him whole, and how it has you kissing him like you’re scared he’ll pull away — like you’ll open your eyes and he won’t be real.

You’re as domineering against his mouth as you are in real life, still as all-consuming and overpowering as the girl he’s gotten so familiar with.

He doesn’t realize how you’ve settled so intently on top of him until his back meets the pillowy cushion of the leather couch. You don’t either, until he exhales a sharp gasp against your cupid’s bow. Then you part from him, for the first time in several minutes, breathing in the oxygen your lungs had just begun to scream for.

Steve finds you with kiss-bitten lips and glassy eyes that look upon him with a softness that he didn’t know existed until now. He smirks with his own swollen and pinker mouth like he isn’t glowing red beneath you.

“I thought you said no funny business,” he manages to tease through bated breaths.

You don’t bother to make up excuses for yourself. You’re already on top of him, all over him — you’ve already kissed him like you would’ve died if you hadn’t. Now, you’re straddling him, caging him between your legs and under your torso. You’ve settled on top of him with a comforting weightiness, like you’re building a home in the familiarity you’ve sought in him.

“I lied,” you mutter with a lazy shrug. A sly smile pulls slowly at your lips until you’re all but beaming sunbeams down at him. He revels in your warmth. “’S not my fault you’re so damn cute.”

It’s easier to blame it on him for all the reasons you’re attached to him like a magnet to his metal, your moth to his flame. You part his lips with your mouth, rut your tongue against his own, reveling in the foreign familiarity of it all, and then blame him for the way you can’t seem to stop any of it.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though. The way his hands find purchase on your hips, petting the warmed skin there and sometimes squeezing to pull you further down onto him, tells you that he has a similar yearning to melt with you. He lets you kiss him all slow, allows you to taste all of him, and doesn’t rush you in your process. It’s comforting, tender. Free.

He’s not used to being on his back like this. Usually, he’s the one taking control. It’s his mouth that does all the work. So, it’s strange to be under you and to have you above him. But it’s more pleasant in an even stranger way not to be rushed — not to have to do all the work. His mouth opens so obediently for you and finds an effortless rhythm with your lips and your tongue.

It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done in his life, kissing you.

He delights in every ounce of the warmth and unfamiliarity you press to his mouth, and tries to shove down feelings of unworthiness that simmer in his chest while you do so.

You don’t part until your mouths are numb and tingling with it.

Your lips are more vibrant in their color, aflame and swollen from being so ardently kissed and sucked and bitten. Neither of you mind making out like a couple of teenagers. It’s comforting to know that things won’t go further than a couple soft touches on burning skin. It was never supposed to be anything more than that, anyway. It was just about being close to each other.

You’ve almost succeeded in your effort to melt into the boy beneath you, when you hear the distant sound of a door opening and closing again. Muffled voices follow — unknown to you but obviously familiar to him.

You part from him without thinking, like you’re a couple of kids again who’ll get in trouble if your parents ever found out what you were doing down here. Steve groans at the loss of you and in annoyance at the sound of his parents. His heavy eyes fall shut and his head leans back to the couch cushions as he fights to swallow down all of his anger.

His parents never really come around these days. They’ve got a bigger home in the city, closer to his dad’s work, and they choose to stay there most days of the week — month.

They used to make excuses for why they left their only son behind. It’s five minutes from your dad’s firm. There’s more opportunity for your mom’s real estate business. Oh, don’t be so selfish, Steven, you’ll finally have the place to yourself. It’s a win-win for all of us.

Steve didn’t want their excuses. It was actually easier with them gone.

But they come around every now and again, whenever it’s most convenient for them, and treat their arrival like something that needs to be celebrated. Like they aren’t supposed to be with their child in the fucking first place. And they somehow manage to pick the most inconvenient times for him, like they know he’s in a bind and want to see him struggle to get out of it.

Usually, it’s when he’s in between paychecks — when they want to take him out to some fancy dinner he could barely afford anyway, but especially when he’s hardly making it until payday. Now, it’s when he’s got the prettiest girl he’s ever seen on top of him, and he’s all hot and half-hard. Steve doesn’t want to let them ruin the moment, as good as they are at it.

“It’s okay. They won’t come in here,” he assures when he feels you tense at the unexpected company. “My mom will go to the bedroom and my dad will go to his office. We’re good, I promise.”

You figure he’s right. The voices grow more and more distant. Heeled shoes click up and up the stairs while heavy stomps head the opposite way. But you’ve already been so woefully knocked out of your stupor that you’re scared it’s too late.

Your lips are numb and the credits are rolling and you’re on top of this beautiful boy and you have no idea how you got there.

It’s almost frightening, the way Steve had consumed you mind, body, and soul by just existing next to you. You become dreadfully hyperaware of the whole thing — of who you are, who he is, and what you’re doing. You lose all your softness and turn to ice, hardening and shrinking back into yourself.

“I should—” you start before clearing your throat when the words come out heavier than expected. “I should head out anyway.”

“Oh,” is all Steve can say. “Right.”

You stare down at him, chest still pressed against his, nose nearly touching the tip of his own. “I just— I have to open tomorrow and everything, so—”

“No. Yeah. Yeah, I— I get it.”

You make tricky work of untangling yourselves.

His legs twist with yours when you both try to rise from the couch at the same time. Then your ring gets stuck in the fabric of his shirt, but not before his belt buckle gets somehow caught in yours. It’s like fate is protesting the imminent parting, but neither of you are paying attention to the signs.

He walks you to your car and chuckles under his breath as you scurry to the front door.

You’re not-so-distantly terrified of running into his parents. They probably wouldn’t mind that he’s sneaking around with a girl, surely that they’re used to, but you’re almost certain they’re not used to girls like you. Girls with wild hair and leather skirts and chunky boots and too bold makeup.

You’re not the girl next door. You’re the girl parents warn their sons about. “Leave that girl alone,” they say. “She’s nothing but trouble.”

You tell him all of this on the short trek to your half-broken-down car when you catch him laughing at you about the whole thing. You say it in jest, lighthearted and trying to make a joke of it. But there’s an underlying melancholia to your tone that reveals every truth you’re trying to evade.

“They don’t care enough about me to give a shit about a girl I’m with, I promise,” he confesses with a laugh that sounds more like a sad scoff than anything else. His chocolate eyes turn gold beneath the yellow street light. He smirks at you. “Besides, I don’t know if I told you this or not, but my middle name is actually trouble, so… I think we might be a match made in heaven.”

You roll your eyes at his attempts to flirt with you, though his lack of finesse makes you smile. “You’re an idiot, Steve Actually Trouble Harrington.”

“You really know how to say goodbye, don’t ya?” he grins when you reach the curb where your tin can car sits.

“Yeah, I’m pro,” you shrug with a teasing glint in your eye, then you beam. “I’ll see you around, ‘kay?”

“Totally,” he nods, suddenly forlorn at having to leave you like he hadn’t just spent the past four hours with you.

Themetallic click of your car door opening sounds much louder in the emptiness of the suburbs. You glance at the boy right before you sink into the driver’s seat, feeling your heart swell with something short of yearning — anticipation.

You weren’t actually a professional at saying goodbye, you find, because you’re realizing how hard it is to leave him.

“Steve!” he hears you shout from across the lawn when he’s halfway up the drive.

He turns around, expecting to hear you tease him some more or tell him you were having car troubles. Neither would’ve shocked him. You’ve got a smart mouth and a shittier car. But you keep on surprising him, all but launching yourself into him before kissing him harder than he’s ever been kissed before.

Steve tenses against you at first, then relaxes again in record time. He sighs in the comfort of having your body pressed so intently into his and your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him somehow closer.

You feel the breath of his exhale fan against your cupid’s bow. It makes you smile, and he feels the expression contort against his lips. His hands rise to the widest part of your hips without thinking. It’s all muscle memory now.

And even though he’s spent the better part of an hour kissing you, this one is so obviously different. This wasn’t just to pass the time. This was more than just to feel him — it was to tell him something. He hears every word you don’t say, but rather press like a stamp to his mouth.

He’s breathless when you pull away. You meet his flushed face with a mischievous grin.

“What was that for?” he wonders breathlessly, but doesn’t waver with his hold on you. He quickly notices that yours doesn’t either.

You shrug in response. “‘Cause you’re pretty.”

“Yeah, well…” he tries to play off like he’s not blushing like crazy. “You’re pretty too.”

Your beam ebbs into a teasing, tightlipped smirk. “Stop flirting with me, Steve Harrington.”

You shove him away with a rougher hand than you realize before you walk away from him. Steve rubs at the ache in his chest with the palm of his hand.

Your playful teasing and your lingering kiss is the only thing Steve has to remember you by when you turn on your chunky heeled boot and head off down the driveway again. He’s frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you and reeling at how you manage to drive him crazy without trying.

Your eyes find him again just before you duck into your car, and you see him still looking at you — mouth agape and eyes wide like you’re some kind of rare find. You figure you must be, in some way. Girls like you aren’t supposed to like guys like him. Vice Versa. Tale as old as time.

The boy stays locked in his stupor until the sprinkles whir on. The spurts of freezing cold water spray all over him and his pretty hair and expensive sweatshirt and his vintage jeans. “Shit!” you hear him swear as he rushes for cover on his front porch.

He’s quickly soaked and freezing cold, but he smiles anyway when he hears the sound of your giggling behind him. It’s as animated as your personality and spills from your mouth like so many rays of sunshine, just a little too loud for the quiet midnight suburbs.

It’s perfect, he realizes. You’re perfect.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #st oneshots #stevie oneshot #punchy x steve

3K notes · View notes

crepesuzette2023 · 5 months

Note

Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

#fic rec #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #mclennon fic #asks #fic recs #overall favorites fic recs

289 notes · View notes

gnomewithalaptop · 4 months

Text

Transcendence AU Dash Simulator GO!!!

31 notes

🌟 lesbianstellaconifer Follow

okay but actually block me if you ship mizcor -- 'hurr durr but we age stella up' -- SHUT UPPP she's literally a minor and alcor's canonically over a million years old so how about you stop being a freak

🎩 woodsmans-left-nipple Follow

Babe I hate to break this to you but Mizcor's literally one of the most famous relationships in all of post-transcendental literature

🌟 lesbianstellaconifer Follow

I could not have more obviously been talking about Mizar the Magnificent but you know what? Yeah classic Mizcor supporters can fuck off too actually.

Everybody likes to whip out Twin Souls like some kind of gotcha but have you even actually read it??? Like it's literally supporting demon worship and pedophilia -- both of which are EXTREMELY ILLEGAL btw. So yeah if I see any of my followers reblogging that shit I'm reporting you to the Occult Defense Agency idc if we're mutuals

🐟 demonologyturnedmegay Follow

*looks at my Alcorian Literature PhD* guess we better stock up on prison shivs buddy

🍃 haveyouseenmylibrary Follow

okay I'm sorry but

and Mizar the Magnificent isn't????

5k notes

📷 nature-pics-daily

Los Angeles 🏝️

#sunken city of los angeles #new california #travel #ocean #photography #lmao i almost got eaten by a kelpie trying to take this pic pls reblog it

98 notes

🧁 definitely-mizar Follow

Hey guys! Just wanted to let you know that The Scepter of Vanquished Souls, the newest book in the Wanderlust Trilogy, is now available for pre order on Glamazon!

Purchasers of the hard-cover edition will also receive never-before-seen content, including a deleted scene between Princess Samia and the Shadow King!

🤷‍♂️ not-not-ian-beale Follow

Boosting because I honestly cannot recommend this book enough. Truly one of Mira's best (and I'm not just saying that because she married me!)

25k notes

⚠️ alv Follow

CONGRATULATIONS!!!

You are the 6 billionth user to log into Jumblr today!! This means you are eligible to win a FREE WACBOOK PRO!!!! Click here to claim your prize and win BIG BIG REWARDS!!

#twin souls #mizar #alcor #mizcor #twin souls: reawakened #twin souls: breaking circles #twin souls: newest moon #twinner #twincon3015 #not a scam

Based on your likes!

0 notes

🌞 azarath-metrion-zinthirst Follow

So. I had a day.

📖 stanley-pines-memorial-library Follow

Okay, but consider

🌞 azarath-metrion-zinthirst Follow

I don't remember my older brother's wedding

📖 stanley-pines-memorial-library Follow

A small price to pay for no middle school trauma

🐧 selkiebael Follow

Okay so I just read the url and--

Asfdksfjk go off you funky lil intern

📖 stanley-pines-memorial-library Follow

I'm actually the senior librarian. But thanks!

🐈 alcorphabetical Follow

Posts that have 10k notes. To me

15k notes

🔮 demonoftheday Follow

Today's demon of the day is Nxlar the Antithetical! Responsible for the Florida Springs Massacre of 3007, the body count for this purveyor of madness is estimated to be over 400 (source).

🐸 that-one-half-elf-bitch

I could fix her

41 notes

🍑 lookingformygnomequeen Follow

literally screaming crying throwing up rn I've turned off 'Based on your likes' like eight times @staff can't you just get rid of him already

2.5k notes

🎤 rosaslittleredboots Follow

#i accidentally set my alchemy textbook on fire today and i don't even care AAAAAA this is going to be amazing #northwest mansion mystery #pacifica northwest #rosa darling #im about to be so insufferable about this just you wait

616 notes

👹 sexiestdemon3015bracket Follow

🐸 that-one-half-elf-bitch

Nxlar SWEEEEEP!!!

#if you love me at all you'll vote for my lady love #LISTEN i could bring her to the light i nkow i could

37 notes

👻 sweetthingsaremadeofdeeznuts

Lmao so Nxlar the Antithetical totally turned my apartment complex into a pile of sentient sludge yesterday. I'm fine -- I was at work when it all went down, but uh... yeah, my situation obviously just became super not-great. I hate to ask, but I don't get paid til the 15th, so if some of y'all could float me some cash just so I can get a motel room for a couple nights, I'll fr owe you a life debt

Goal: 0/250

FundFriend

LenMo

#fuck demons fr #like seriously what'd i ever do to them 😭😭😭 #mutual aid #pls boost #don't tag as donation

17 notes

🏳️‍⚧️ gliesssse Follow

Important PSA

So idk if y'all have been reading the news lately, but the alcor virus has been making the rounds on the interwebs again. I feel like I shouldn't have to say this but PLEASE don't click any random links rn, ESPECIALLY if they're tagged with twin souls.

I know we twinners love to joke about it, but the alcor virus is legitimately dangerous and has been known to seriously ruin people's lives. Idk. Just like be smart and practice basic caution I guess? Jumblr's pretty much dead these days, so he might skip over us, but it's always better to be safe than sorry

⚠️ alv Follow

This is a good point! It is always better to be safe than sorry! That's why if you're smart, you'll click here for a list of ways to virus-proof your computer. Stay safe out there everybody!

Based on your likes!

4k notes

🌲 discogirl99 Follow

Anyone else just randomly crave connective tissue sometimes

🧁 sparkle-glitter-sideblog

no actually i think that might just be a you thing

#also i heard screaming on the other line when i called you earlier there better not be a mess when i get home #beloved demon brother tag

2 notes

👑 sameeya

Okay guys I might be crazy but what if the Shadow King was actually telling the truth when he said Princess Samia's brother is still alive??? Like, if you think about it, there's a tonnnn of foreshadowing in Crown of Ghosts and the author tweeted that there was gonna be a surprise twist in the new book sooo 👀👀

#i've connected the dots -- YOU DIDN'T CONNECT SHIT -- i've connected them #wanderlust trilogy #mira ramachandran #crown of ghosts #scepter of vanquished souls #princess samia #samia of cleves #shadow king #ahmed of cleves #bookblr

25 notes

🪨 professionalnatural-deactivated30141227

Reminder that you are beautiful exactly as you are and there are thousands who would sell their souls to imitate what you do naturally <3

👠 mizarsfrillypetticoat Follow

I actually really needed this today 💗

🦇 plsbytemevladdyzaddy Follow

Yo quit reblogging this op is a blatant human supremacist

🪨 professionalnatural-deactivated30141227

And? No one cares lmao

⚠️ alv Follow

Enjoy deactivation. Lmao.

🪓 wenda-was-a-lesbian-confirmed Follow

🕵🏻‍♂️ alcor-in-the-tardis Follow

#I sent screenshots of that one centaur post to her boss too #give you two guesses what species his wife is (tags by @alv)

Holy shit. Am I actually rooting for the alcor virus rn?

🍄 warioxreader Follow

maybe the real virus was the friends we made along the way <3

⚠️ alv Follow

No, the real virus is me. Don't take credit for my accomplishments.

🐲 retiredbus Follow

Heritage post

62k notes

🐔 old-friends-senior-griffin-sanctuary Follow

I just want to get dicked down again =/

#THIS IS NOT ME TAKING A STANCE ON SHIPPING DISCOURSE I LITERALLY DON'T CARE #best hits tag #i'm basing this entirely off the vibes i got from 2015/2016 tumblr #i just feel like the mizar the magnificent fanbase would be highkey insufferable lmao (to the dismay of all creators involved)#mizar the magnificent #transcendence au #alcor the dreambender #ian beale #mira ramachandran #rosa darling #alcor virus #al-v #twin souls #unreality #tumblr dashboard simulator #tumblr dash simulator

245 notes · View notes

bagdaddyb · 6 months

Note

Hi!! Oh my gosh seeing you posting again was such a huge joy and surprise for me I’m so glad to read your new work!!!

I was wondering if you could write a wanda maximoff x fem!reader ABO fic where either Wanda or reader are new to the team with a whole bunch of pining where they eventually figure out that they are each others mate? You can make either Wanda or reader alpha/omega!

It’s super okay if you aren’t feeling this request, either way I’m so excited to read more of the amazing work you share with us!!!

Hiiiii! So I got super carried away with this and I originally intended for this to be mean emo Wanda but sweet soft Wanda took over, I hope you enjoy! 💗

Pairing: alphag!p Wanda x omega fem! spyReader

Warning: Sickeningly Sweet, 18+ MINOR DNI NSFW NSFW

AN: Wanda 🥰

You'd only been on the team for a year when the mess with Ultron happened. It all happened so fast, you could barely process everything happening around you before something new would arise. Sitting across from Natasha sipping coffee as you spied on the twin alphas you felt the most relaxed you had in weeks. Natasha kept glancing their way while your focus stayed on her, two people staring was more suspicious than one. You and the red head proved to be a good team over the past year. Two omega spies flying under everyones radar. The world still assumed the Black Widow a one woman show and no one would ever believe her to be an omega. The breeze felt nice on your back, bringing a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear before looking down at your coffee.

"This has been a real shit show eh?"

Your voice held a familiar accent one you'd grown used to using under your many aliases. Natasha's eyes returned to you as she sipped her own drink.

"Not anymore than usual."

You hummed in response eyes wondering to the innocent civilians around you. Sipping your own cup you wonder if life would be better among them. Oblivious to the realities of the world to caught up in your own day to day menial task. The weight of this job seemed to weigh a bit heavier on your shoulders everyday, the question of wether the people you save amounts to the people you don't plaguing.

"S toboy vse v poryadke?" (Are you alright?)

The red head ask and you nod eyes returning to hers.

"Tired, it seems everytime we try to relax something detrimental in the world happens. I wonder what it would do without us."

A small chuckle escapes Natasha despite the truth in your words, her eyes shooting to the pair on her right once more. Though not a 'graduate' of the red room you hold your own tramatic story. Experimented on in the basement of Oscorp for years you'd been turned into a lab rat by the corpo bastards that owned the building. You'd escaped only three years ago, changed. Transformed into a human machiene, non-aging, ridiculously strong with a sirens song. You did the only thing you could and played the cards you were delt. Seducing mediocre alphas out of millions before any one even got a whiff of your existence but you could truly only thank Natasha for that. It wasn't until Natasha was taken down but the Black Widow kept striking that shield realized there was more than met the eye. It was Tony himself that went undercover to catch you and honestly had he not been an Avenger with intel he would of ended up caught himself. Another rich egotistical alpha who thought himself on top of the world. You didn't go down easy and spent a week in a cell before even uttering a word. In retrospect it all seems silly now you often think about how much time you wasted fighting the people who wanted nothing more than to help you. Eyes lifting to Natasha's face you can't help but feel greatful for the opportunity she's given you to help others like you.

"They're on the move."

You hum in acknowledgment before finishing off your drink mind finally wondering to the matter at hand. Your mission was recruitment nothing more. Ultron having been made unreasonably strong by the twins he somehow came to be in alliance with. You'd gained enough information merely listening in on their conversation, so you and Natasha retreated returning to the group in order to solidify your advances. Standing in time with Natasha you link your arm in hers smiling before chatting away about absolutely nothing in russian. Missing the way a certain alpha glanced your way when your scent drifted down wind. It only took twenty four hours for everything to go to shit almost a record breaker in your books. Ultron whineded up to be nothing after the male alpha was nere fatally injured the red headed woman taking care of him like clockwork. Luckily your team stood nearby able to quickly extract the alpha towards safety and medical attention. You worked efficiently getting him secured before moving to help the rest of your team fight off Ultron's bots and it isn't until the end when you stand with the support of Thor that you realize the red headed alpha had come with you. Returning to the compound there is tension on the quinjet. The group unsure what to do with the twin alphas who quite literally just tried to murder them and it causes you to roll your eyes.

"You could at least not talk about them as if they aren't right there."

You scold before moving towards the pair. The red head having been unmoving crouched over her unconscious brother.

"Privet." (Hello.)

You say making yourself known as you approach the alpha causing her to glance up at you.

"On dolzhen polnost'yu vyzdorovet'." (He should make a full recovery.)

You speak in a whisper trying to be soft.

"YA uveren, chto on ne khotel by, chtoby vy bespokoilis'." (I'm sure he wouldn't want you to worry.)

The woman merely returns her eyes to the unconscious man below her.

"Will you lock us up? Treat us once again like dogs?"

Your eyebrows raise and your posture straightens.

"No of course not, everyone deserves a second chance. You believed you were fighting for the right thing, there are many on this team who have been in a similar circumstance. Do not believe simply because we are labeled supergeroi that none of us have a dark past." (Superheroes)

With that you take your leave allowing the woman to be with her loved one. Upon returning to the compound you go into seclusion, you needed a break both mentally and physically. Just a few days where the world wasn't ending and it was entirely up to you to save it. Six days later you emerge slightly re-energized and fresh ready for the next catastrophe. The first place you visit is the gym already hearing Natasha's scolding on breaking your routine as you pass the common room you see the two twins on the couch alone. In this light you see them both clearly, while they hold the title twin they couldn't look more different. You study them both your eyes lingering on the red head. She was an attractive alpha, very attractive. You hear the tv playing but don't recognize the program they have on. Detouring into the room you catch their attention waving as you approach.

"Hello, I am rather embarrassed to say we never formally met. I am (Y/N) nice to meet you both."

You bow your head in greeting sending them a bright smile and both of them seem to freeze obviously caught off guard by your friendly approach. The male recovers first standing up before bowing his head back and sticking out his hand.

"Pietro, and that is my sestra Wanda."

You recognize his accent reaching to grip his hand in yours.

"A pleasure, I hope you two are adjusting well."

It isn't until then his sister jumps up a slight flush on her cheeks.

"It has been familiar, we are rather alienated but that is how it has always been."

You hum in response fighting back the disappointment in your expression.

"Don't fret, we are a group of antisocial extroverts forced to be in a group setting. Well expect for Tony but it just takes us all time to engage and meet new people, they will come around before long."

You finish with a smile.

"Have you two at least been taken care of? Food, water, lodging?"

They nod simultaneously and its enough for you.

"Good well I'm off to the gym, don't be strangers."

With that you leave not taking note of the full face flush on the woman's face.

"Kto-nibud' nashel svoyu sestru-omegu?" (Has someone found their omega sister?)

Pietro says in a teasing tone and Wanda punches him in the shoulder muttering at him to shut up. The moment you cross the threshold of the gym you flinch.

"Nu posmotrite, kto eto." (Well look who it is.)

"Can we skip past the part where you scold me so I can just apologize?"

You ask turning to meet Natasha's sharp gaze.

"Will your muscles magically regain their mass?"

"No."

You sigh accepting your defeat beginning to stretch as Natasha begins her speech on commitment. It is another four days before everyone finally comes around to the twins slotting them in as if theyed been there since the beginning just as they had you. Walking towards the gym you release a content sigh, a full ten days since the world seemed as though it'd collapse. What bliss. Quickly looking up your eyes fantically search for some wood unwilling to risk jinxing yourself.

"Dobroye utro." (Good morning.")

You hear from behind turning to be greeted by Wanda.

"Good morning indeed. Off for your morning cuppa are you?"

You ask and Wanda merely nods in response fighting back a yawn.

"Not a morning person?"

You ask with a smile walking beside Wanda.

"Not at all."

She says somewhat grumpily.

"Then what are you doing up at six a.m?"

You ask with a laugh and Wanda has to fight back a blush. She couldn't admit that she woke up at this time merely to see you every morning but what could she say.

"I like to cook but I'm not very good at it.... so I practice early before the others wake up."

The words spill out of her mouth quickly unable to think of anything better and you beam your white smile at her.

"Well how about tomorrow you sleep in till eight then I can help you learn, I am an amazing cook. I even know how to make some traditional dishes."

Wanda can't help the flush that comes to her face this time and it makes you feel a tingle inside.

"Okay."

The red head responds and you nod giving her arm a little reassuring squeeze as you come upon the kitchen.

"Good luck dorogoy." (Dear)

You say before continuing onto the gym and Wanda is sure her face matches her hair. Sure enough the next morning Wanda doesn't head towards the kitchen instead she spends the morning pacing her room anxiety ridden. You'd said for her to sleep in but how could she when you agreed to spend alone time with her. She couldn't tell Pietro and deal with his repeated teasing so she kept the information in slowly but surely having a meltdown. As she paced she played with her hair, bit her finger, twiddled her thumbs. God she couldn't do this. She'd literally been an experiment for Hydra and never felt this nervous in her life. The time passed quickly. To quickly. Right as she truly began to spiral there was a knock at her door, eyes shooting to the clock she realizes its already eight o'clock. Brushing off her clothes quickly before taking a few deep breaths and recuperating she opens her door. The moment her eyes land on you it all seems for naught, your hair is tied back. You wear tights and a tshirt covered by an apron. Your eyes spakle matched by your bright smile and Wanda feels herself melt a bit.

"I figured you'd meet me in the kukhnya." (Kitchen)

You say with a giggle and Wanda becomes a tomato realizing its not only eight but eight eleven.

"I'm sorry I slept in and lost all track of time."

You hum with a smile clearly not mad at all before turning to be on your way.

"All is fine I just didn't want to start without you."

Wanda follows behind you closing her door quickly. Her eyes wonder your body not being able to help staring at your ass.

"Ty slushayesh'?" (Are you listening?)

Wanda's eyes shoot up attention back on your voice.

"I asked what your favorite dish is."

"Oh um I love traditional pirozhki, my mother used to make them just slightly burnt at the edges. The taste reminds me of home."

You turn and smile softly her way.

"Perfect then that's what we will make, cooking can seem overwhelming but it isn't as scary as many think. I always recommend learning to cook for yourself first because it is much easier than cooking for others."

In the kitchen you gather the suppiles, you cooked often so the ingredients for this dish were easily found.

"I'll have you make the dough, it is all simply measurements so I'll do no more than verbal instructions."

You say as you prepare the area for Wanda.

"Here put this on, gotta protect your clothes and tie your hair back no one wants hair in their food."

Handing the apron to Wanda while standing by waiting. You bite your lip as you watch her. Running her fingers through silky red locks before pulling it up exposing her neck to you. She wore grey sweatpants and a baggy t. The sweatpants doing little to hide the member between her legs and you press your thighs together pleasurably. Wanda on the other hand was trying to think about how to see this lie through. She was an amazing cook, taking the responsibility of her brother from a young age. How was she going to play clueless. She should of at least said a dish she truly wasn't aware of how to make but when you asked her favortie food she couldn't help but answer honestly. You talked Wanda through the steps praising her for being a natural when the dough came out well. Leaving it to make the filling.

"What did your mom fill hers with? I do a simple meat and rice mixture since it goes along with my bulk."

Wanda nods along as she listens debating a moment before responding.

"Lets make them like yours, I've never had them any other way and I'd be eager to try."

You smile brightly at the alpha before nodding in response. Again you talk her through it always believing hands on with clear instruction was the best way to learn any skill. It gave the student mutiple ways to intake the information and made it harder to forget. Once the process is complete you help Wanda cut and stuff the dough, this part of the process being the longest and most tedious. You leave her to fry them as she likes since she'd mentioned her mom let them cook a bit longer and instead move to clean around her. Never a fan of a messy workspace. You hum as you clean, mindlessly really. It seems a tune that always floats around you. One Wanda is sure she's heard you hum before. By the time Wanda is done cooking you've cleaned the kitchen and are able to sit down and enjoy the meal with her. Of course the moment doesn't last and before either of you can even take a bite the smell of food draws in hungry Avengers.

"Mne vsegda nravitsya, kogda ty gotovish'." (I always love when you cook.)

Natasha says entering first, the smell of traditional food equivalent to a cat with its automatic feeder. Steve, Bruce, Tony, and Sam all slowly trickle in after stomachs growling audibly making you laugh.

"I suppose if I didn't cook every once in a while no one would eat around here hmmm?"

The group shares a laugh as they line up one by one to make plates.

"But in all honesty this meal is thanks to Wanda not me, I merely talked her through the steps."

Wanda can't hide the pink that dust her cheeks and all is going well until a certain twin walks in.

"Pirozhki! You always cook the best food sestra."

The blonde kisses his sisters head as he passes by and you can't help the eyebrow that raises in response.

"Always hmmm?"

You hum and Wanda is saved by the entrance of Thor who could of eaten the entire helping had he got here first.

"Mighty (Y/N) your meals are always most invigorating."

You smile at the God and try not laugh when you see his downcast face once he realizes he is the last one to show. Wiping your face after you finish you excuse yourself it was already nearing noon and you still hadn't even looked at the moutain of paperwork on your desk. Wanda watches you go. Over the next three weeks you and Wanda grow closer she begins training with you and Natasha in the mornings and you read with her sometimes in the afternoons, you don't question her about Pietro's comment after your cooking fiasco and Wanda never says anything about it because that woukd mean admitting to you that she was desperate to spend time with you.

"Soo?"

Natasha ask as the two of you jog around the gardens. It was early afternoon in fall, the cool winds combating your rising body heat making the jog enjoyable.

"Nothing."

"Yebat' will she ever make a move?" (Fuck)

You merely shrug.

"I don't know, I'll start showing signs of heat by the end of the week if that doesn't trigger her there's no hope."

Natasha laughs at that.

"Tak khochetsya al'fu, da?" (So eager for an alpha eh?)

"Not just any alpha, Wanda."

The week passes slowly and as the weekend gets closer your pheromones get stronger. The team knew your heat was approaching as they kept a calander for the Alphas so they could know when to distance, well everyone except Wanda apparently. Its Thursday night by the time she's had enough of your distance and decides to ask why you aren't at the table for dinner with the rest of the team.

"Where's (Y/N), I swear I haven't seen her all week."

Natasha sends a small smirk Wanda's way before Steve speaks up.

"Her heat is approaching so she is keeping extra distance for everyones saftey, she should come back around a week or so from today."

Pink hue coats Wanda's cheeks as the thought of you in heat takes over her mind and the pink only gets darker as her hard on begins to form in her pants. Her mind plummets into thoughts about your slick, and body. Thoughts about filling you with her seed and you being full with her pups causes her to be embarrassed by how hard she's become. If not for the table her bulge would be hard to miss. Wanda remains in a fog for the rest of dinner try as she might she couldn't get her mind off mating you and as everyone stands to part ways she remains seated making the excuse that she'd clean up the kitchen. Wanda strained painfully against her pants she could almost smell you now.

Rubbing your sides you walk towards the kitchen dinner should be over by now and you're starving. You need to get as many calories in as you can before you succumb to your heat tomorrow. The pain was slowly starting to set in and you'd be lying if you said you were looking foreward to the next seven days. You let out a groan as you turn the corner a sudden sharp pain stabbing your side. As you enter the threshold of the kitchen goosebumps rise on your skin the familiar smell of Wanda infultrating your nose before your eyes lock with the alphas. You're almost sure you see Wanda begin to tremble but you quickly begin to back away.

"I'm sorry I thought everyone would be gone by now."

You go to retreat from the kitchen and Wanda stands so quickly her chair falls behind her. In a second she's in your face grabbing you softly by the jaw making you look at her.

"Omega."

She whispers as she sniffs at you rubbing her nose against your cheek before falling to your scent gland.

"Mate."

She whispers again and you chirp. Your omega finally satisfied being acknowledged by your alpha. For a few minutes nothing happens, the two of you stand there relishing eachothers presence. You chirp at her as she lightly growls at you and you feel satisfied, whole even. Then you are painfully reminded of your situation causing you to sharply intake air and groan. Wanda growls louder at the noise of your distress and you whimper.

"It hurts."

Wanda's grip on your jaw becomes tighter, pushing you into the wall before pressing her own body against yours.

"Tell me where it hurts, I'll take care you shchenok." (Puppy)

You groan again, your heat suddenly over taking your senses as a result of having your mate so close. Your hands raise to grip Wanda's arms tightly, nails digging into her skin through the fabric of her shirt.

"Need you, please. Alpha. Mate."

Your words come out as little whimpers. Your panting, you don't know why but suddenly you can't get enough air for full breaths. So caught up in Wanda you don't even process you're about to be mated in the tower kitchen but honestly you don't care either. Wanda however does she feels territorial, primal even. She needs you to herself, needs privacy with you. She'd attack anyone who might see your bare body if she mated you here. Her room was on the other side of the compound, the alpha side far from the omegas and living area but your room was just down the hall. Wanda releases your jaw hands moving down your body till she reaches the back of your thigh. You bite your lip enjoying the electricity you felt from her touch. As she picks you up you wrap your legs around her torso tightly. Her hands against your thighs causing your sex to tingle. You wrap one hand around her neck before running the other through soft red hair. You return to chirping at her, the feeling of finding your mate an overwhelmingly happy one. You rub your cheek against hers softly and the alpha lightly growls in acknowledgment. You are consumed by Wanda's presence unable to focus on anything but her. When she lays you lightly on your bed you aren't even sure where you are, you just know you're there with her. Wanda bends over you, tucking her nose into your scent gland once more and growling loudly. She needs you, needs you marked, claimed. Needs everyone to know you belong to her.

"Mate."

The word is once again a whisper but you hear it all the same. The time to romantically strip you would have to be later gripping opposite sides of the loose shirt you wore the alpha literally tears the cloth off of you exposing your bra cladded torso to her. Your breathing speeds up the intimacy of the moment undeniable as you feel Wanda begin to run her lips down your body. It was like electric shock, the currents Wanda's touch sent through your body. She magiced your bra away completely exposing your upper half and growling as her soft lips wrapped around your nipple. You moan loudly in response, it felt good too good. You could get lost in this sensation alone.

"Mine."

Wanda growls against your skin before moving along to your other nipple. Your hands grip at Wanda through her clothes before you whimper.

"Need to feel you alpha."

Wanda growls in response, her eyes glowing red as she magics away her own clothing her skin now pressing against yours. She moves back up your body mouth hovering close before she lays claim to your own. The kiss is magical, the locking of your lips causing what you could only descibe as bliss throughout your whole body. You felt like you were glowing arms and legs wrapping around the alpha tightly you were sure this must be heaven. Wanda began to grind against you through the fabric of your pants, your underwear gliding against your excessive amount of slick. You blush, embarrassed by how wet you truly are from so little foreplay but the feeling doesnt last long when Wanda growls above you. Wanda pulls your pants off your waist guiding them down your thighs just enough to expose your slick and shudders when the smell of you tingles her nostrils. She's overcome with the need to knot you, breed you as she makes her mark on your neck. But she also feels the feral need to take you, to have your slick dripping down her chin as she causes you to come apart on her tongue. Starting with the latter she pulls your pants off quickly. Breaking away from your lips to slowly kiss down your body. You take a long gasp of air eyes dialating as you watch Wanda work her way down. Your hips begin to twitch unable to stay still at the excitement of what was about to come. Wanda's hands move to firmly grip your waist holding you in place as she kisses your stomach moving lower and lower your stomach muscles flex, a wave of arousal flowing through you. When she reaches her destination her hands move to your thighs lifting them up to hold you wide open for her. You're leaking, literally and Wanda can't wait to have a taste. She dives in slurping up the excess before moving to your center. Sucking on your clit then tongue fucking you like a woman starved. Your slick quenches a thirst Wanda didn't even know she had tongue lapping at your clit before quickly moving towards your hole eager to drink up the slick as a result. It doesn't take long and under normal circumstances you're sure you would of been embarrassed but none of that matters when your muscles spasm. Back arching in the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced, your thighs shake, eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream. Wanda doesn't stop eagerly drinking up your orgasm before wanting, no needing you to do that again. You whimper in overstimulation but don't stop your alpha, just as turned on by her need for you. You squirm against the red heads mouth a little towards her a little away, this time you last longer if only for your slight sensitivity causing time before the feeling was pleasurable again yet you cum all the same. Wanda moans loudly as you release into her mouth again. She could do this all day she's sure of it. But now as her precum begins to soak her boxers she knows its time. Lifting onto her knees between your legs red eyes glow as her pants disappear and through your haze you see her in all her glory. You reach down gripping her in your hand moaning at the size while she moans at the sensation. You pump her, an overwhelming feeling to suck her down your through the way she'd done you comes over you but Wanda quickly grabs your hand removing you from her.

"You're going to make me bust shchenok." (Puppy)

Wanda hesitates a second if only to allow her own incoming orgasm to subside, she needed to bury herself in you and it wouldn't look good for her if it ended just as quickly as it started. In the meantime she leans down over you meeting your lips in a hungry kiss the taste of you on her lips causing another wave of your own slick to pool between your legs. You push at her lower back willing her to enter you but she resist. Kissing you eagerly before breaking to kiss to move towards your scent gland, you pant quickly. Wanda's kiss having stolen all the air from your lungs.

"Mine."

Wanda whispers against you, hips beginning to grind against your slick in order to lubricate herself. You shudder in response.

"Yours alpha, take me. I want to be yours."

Wanda reaches down gripping herself in order to slowly slide into you. She's thick stretching you out in ways only she can, the burn sends waves through you and by the time she's completely sheathed you're a whimpering mess.

"Yebat' you're so tight." (Fuck)

She pulls out only to slam back into you, her pace is brutal, hips slamming against yours hitting a sweet spot you didn't even know you had repeatedly. Your moans are as loud as the sound of your wet slick sucking Wanda back in. You claw at her wanting her impossibly closer as she fucked you into next week.

"Holy fuck I'm cumming. Alpha. Alpha."

Your eyes roll back as you arch. The orgasm makes you see white and Wanda doesnt stop. You squirting fueling her ego.

"That's right shchenok. You love the way your alpha fucks you, love how deep I am in you. Look shchenok can you see me."

Wanda brings your gaze down the visible bulge in your stomach when the alpha bottoms out causing your stomach to tighten.

"I'm right here."

Wanda says as she pushes down on the bulge and you spasm again another light orgasm washing through you.

"Fuck I'm gonna fill you up, get you pregnant with my pup."

Wanda pumps into you harder, her knot slamming against your entrance as she nears her own release.

"Alpha. Alpha."

You whimper to fucked out to form any other words.

"You're gonna look so pretty swollen with my seed all mine."

You moan again as Wanda bends towards your scent gland the feel of her canines against your neck enough to almost send you over the edge. She sinks her teeth into you right as you hear a pop. Her knot having settled inside you easily combined with the blackout orgasm of your mating bite. When you come to Wanda is still knotted deep inside you. Nuzzling at your cheeks with a low growl. You chirp back to weak to do much else and Wanda hums.

"My mate, my omega."

10 months later.

You were exhausted, to say the least. A new born was a lot of work and a lot of lost sleep. Wanda wasn't here, literally dragged away for a debrief she was required to attend. If you were honest you didn't mind, she'd been slightly smothering you since you gave birth and while you loved her for it just because you gave birth didn't mean you were no longer a functioning adult. You'd been picking petty arguments since your third trimester which you always felt bad for. It was the hormones combined with being put on bedrest so you didn't get to do your job combined with sexual frustration since the doctor said it was no longer safe for intercourse. You sighed as you stepped out of the shower, now with the added insecurities about the changes in your body since pregnancy and child birth you weren't sure you even wanted Wanda to touch you. Ignoring the mirror you dry yourself before wrapping a towel around you. Exiting the bathroom right as your little baby boy woke up with soft cries. You coo at him lifting him out of his crib you lose your towel throwing it over the side in order to hold your baby against your bare chest. You were barely one month postpartum but glad to be past the part where you were in a sense literally wearing a human diaper. Your son instantly calms at the sound of your heart beat as you bounce him lightly moving to sit in your bed you lean against the headboard letting out slightly pained noises as you try and relax your overworked back. You cover your lower half with the blanket already feeling the chill of the room as you begin to hum at your son. You don't hear the door open to focused to the little boy in your arms, getting comfortable as you move him to breast feed. You hiss as he begins to work at your sore nipple but eventually relax becoming accustomed to the pain. You rub his little head of hair softly smiling at him a fullness in your heart only created by the birth of your child as Wanda makes her pressence known.

"You're so beautiful dorogaya." (Dearheart)

You bite back your own insecurities at her comment humming in response. Looking up you meet Wanda's piercing eyes before meeting her lips in a kiss.

"I mean it dorogaya or have you forgotten I can hear your thoughts."

You can't help but frown not used to not being able to keep secrets.

"But...."

"Ah ah ah no buts, you're even more beautiful now than the day we met. Pregnancy and childbirth has given you a glow nothing else can."

You sigh a familiar warmth filling your chest in response to Wanda's love.

"YA tebya lyublyu." (I love you)

You whisper your free hand coming to rub against Wanda's cheek.

"I ya lyublyu tebya. Forever and always." (And I love you)

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlett witch #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #alpha wanda #omega reader #bagdaddyb #request

312 notes · View notes

yall-hate-kids-tourney · 2 months

Text

Round 4: Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)

Propaganda below the cut

Mabel Pines (12):

I literally saw a tiktok today about how Mabel is a bad person. She’s 12! Like yes, she has made some mistakes and bad choices, but so has everyone else. And I never see any of the other characters in the show criticized the way she is. Everyone in the show has made mistakes (Grunkle Stan commits crimes practically every episode ffs) but because Mabel is a 12 year old girl and acts like it, she gets the most hate. Mabel deserves to be loved 🩷

----

girl gets so much flack for being... immature and kind of selfish at age 12? like she had whole video essays made on why she is a horrible person who deserves punishment. god forbid girls be silly

----

!!! Spoilers for Gravity Falls last 5 episodes !!!

This has gone down a lot but when the Weirdmaggedon arc was happening, the finale of the series, a big part of the fandom started hating Mabel because she accidentally caused the Weirdmaggedon (basically an apocalypse + bizarre shit like the water tower becoming an eight-legged monster with a giant mouth).

For context, in the episode that starts this arc, "Dipper and Mabel vs The Future", Mabel is really excited to the end of their summer vacation at Grunkle Stan's house, since it will be her and Dipper's 13th birthday and they will enter high school (her idea of high school of course coming from teen movies). But then this whole idea starts to shatter when Wendy tells her that high school isn't like a Disney musical, but it's okay, she will get through this since she will be with Dipper, her twin brother...

Except, that Dipper receives an invitation by Grunkle Stan's scientist brother Ford to become his apprentice after summer ends, staying in Gravity Falls, without Mabel. When she discovers it, she gets really mad at him and in a fit of rage, she accidentally picks Dipper's bag instead of hers and runs off to the woods.

When she gets there, Blendin, a time-travelling friend of theirs finds her and tells her that he has a way of making her brother stay with her, and make the summer take a little more to end, and that he just needed a little thing that Dipper has in his bag. That thing is a dimensional rift that Dipper and Ford contained to not cause the Weirdmaggedon, but Mabel didn't knew about that and gives it to Blendin. Blendin then breaks it and it's revealed that Bill Cipher was controlling Blendin to get the rift and release the Weirdmaggedon. He then traps Mabel in a bubble, starting the final arc of the series.

So, a few episodes later, that bubble she's in is revealed to be a world of fantasy that she controls, and that she didn't want to leave that world, as she was scared of growing up etc.

Context given, A LOT OF PEOPLE HATED HER FOR THIS. Suddenly people started seeing Mabel as just a selfish girl who wanted things only her way, when she was only a 12-year-old scared of growing up without her twin brother (they do end up going back together at the end but still).

The worst part is that apparently the people behind it took note of this, and on the comics that where released after the finale, she is a selfish spoiled brat. I haven't read the comics though so I'm going off what some people said about it.

Amane Momose (12):

Amane was voted guilty in the first trial so that she would acknowledge her guilt. It backfired, and now she’s considered a threat. Well, everyone is a threat, but nobody’s threat level has been as heavily discussed and debated as hers. Consider the next prisoner in line, Mikoto. He’s objectively more dangerous and cannot be restrained. He beat up the guard in trial 1, and he was able to hold his own when the other guilty prisoners were attacked. But a good incentive to forgive him is so that he will calm down. You know what? That’s a good incentive to forgive Amane too! But she *can* be restrained, so a good portion of the discussion went into how she should be voted guilty so she *will* be restrained and not a threat. Since her vote was a near 50/50, of course a good chunk of the voters expressed dissatisfaction with her forgiven verdict. Some are already planning to vote her guilty for trial 3, calling her a “lost cause”. She hasn’t even done any concrete harm yet. Hold the pitchforks until she actually causes harm, please? And what if she *was* voted guilty in trial 2? We’ve been warned that she will continue to deny our judgement. A second guilty verdict won’t make her better either, and then what? She’d be called a “lost cause” as well. There is no winning with her.

----

Where do I even start? So first of all she’s an cult child who was physically and mentally abused and tortured by her parents and then (presumably) murdered her mother after her mother killed a cat that she took care of.

Now everyone in Milgram is a murderer but when Amane came and her MV showed her murder and circumstance in an admittedly highly fictionalized depiction of it the audience decided to…repeat the cycle of abuse!

She was voted guilty for the main reason of “teaching her” and helping her “realize that she was abused.” I would like to note that this tough love approach is something her parents utilized against her. “We are only doing this to help you.”

So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

Yet for some reason it feels like people treat Amane as a “delusional creepy kid who wants to kill people” which completly takes away the nuance of her character. She does have the capacity to harm! Everyone here does! She’s not Uniquly Dangerous! She just has a Reason to be Dangerous. A Reason we GAVE HER by REPEATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

----

TL;DR: "We metavoted this abused, indoctrinated child guilty in trial 1, but it didn't work. Now she is a threat to three grown adults: one who is fully free and two whom she has been shown to get along with. Please metavote her guilty again so she will be restrained and unable to attack them, even though that means subjecting her to further psychological torture." Amane Momose is the youngest of ten murderers, prisoners of Milgram who are to be judged innocent (forgiven) or guilty (unforgiven). In the first interrogation (voice drama), she said that what she did was in line with her religion's doctrines. If we judged her the "wrong way", she said she will just deny the verdict. Combining the voice drama and music video, you could piece together that she was raised in a cult and abused, even though she is cheerful and downplays her pain. She never shows *who* she killed, only *why* she did. After the first day of her vote, she was 81% innocent, but this wouldn't last the whole three months. Many people voted her guilty so she would "see her sins", part of the practice commonly known as "metavoting". Her innocent percentage rapidly decreased, and she hit guilty in the last 15 days, finishing at 51% guilty. At the end of the first trial, Jackalope (who is something like a host) went over all the prisoners' verdicts and commented on the general reasoning. When he got to Amane, he *laughed* at the audience for voting that way to make her realize her sins. Trial 2 rolled around, and it was revealed that Amane's victim was her abuser. On day one, she was at 74% innocent. Seems like a cut-and-dry case now, right? Well... in the intermission, two of the prisoners (Fuuta and Mahiru) were badly beaten up and became reliant on the care of Shidou, a doctor. Amane became hostile to Shidou because what he was doing was against her beliefs. She visited all three of them on their birthdays to convince them to change their ways. She seems to be especially close to Fuuta, who is now murmuring about salvation. Guilty prisoners are psychologically tortured, forced to listen to voices that reject their beliefs. Fuuta and Mahiru both say that the mental strain is worse than their physical injuries. But Amane, who also looks worse for wear, was thrown under the bus because she isn't injured and is considered a physical threat to them (never mind that she gets along with them). She's considered a threat to Shidou, a grown man who is twice her size and fully free, while she is partially restricted by the long sleeves in her trial 2 uniform. She might indoctrinate Fuuta even though, in a prison of ten people and one guard, she's the only voice of her cult. Fortunately, she got a break. Her vote was falling at a similar rate to the first trial. But this time, it stabilized at 51% innocent, 12 days before the end of her vote. But there's no way this is over.

#yall hate kids tourney #round 4 #gravity falls #mabel pines #milgram #milgram project #amane momose #momose amane #cw child abuse #cw cults #cw torture #cw psychological torture #cw animal death

105 notes · View notes

luvhhannie · 5 months

Text

nothing new | y. jeonghan x reader

𓇢𓆸 synopsis: no one would’ve thought that unspoken feelings would’ve been the best for you and jeonghan

𓇢𓆸 genre: angst, non-idol au, mutual pining (if you squint), kinda slow burn romance, hanahaki disease

𓇢𓆸 cw: major character death, terminal illness hinted, swearing, blood and gore (at some point), yn basically being paths eren, a little bit of wonwoo x reader but mostly platonic, 96 line (wonwoo, woozi) to maknae line are all in freshman in uni, the rest of 96 line are in sophomore in uni, LOTS of references

𓇢𓆸 wc: 11.1k

𓇢𓆸 a/n: this is my first time in a while writing a fic again so please bear with me! and if you recognize my user from wattpad DONT remind me of my aki fic i lowkey completely forgot the plot. not really proofread i just wanna get this out there, ill edit it if i have to. anyways, all love!

“jeonghan, meet my sister, yn. don’t you dare hit on her now.” your brother, seungcheol, said to his friend who only smiled at you.

“nice to finally meet you, yn-ie. cheol told me how much of a supportive sister you are.” jeonghan stated as you stare up at him. today is november 13th, the day you finally met your brother’s so called “university best friend”. you only knew jeonghan from your brother’s talks and calls but never actually gotten the chance to meet him, until today. you knew from your brother that jeonghan was quite a “manwhore”, in your brother’s words. seungcheol was only a year older than you, already in his sophomore year in college, while you were still enjoying the gap year you were taking. you and seungcheol are practically twins, only you being more laid back than him. he was your only sibling and so are you to him, making him very protective over you despite your undeniably, small age gap.

“hey, it’s finally nice to meet you too. seungcheol told me a lot of things about you.” you said to the long, dark haired man infront of you. he gave a sheepish smile and raised his brows.

“great things, i suppose?” he slyly asked, earning a scoff from seungcheol.

“you wish.” seungcheol said as he plopped down on the couch, changing the show you were watching to a show he liked. you rolled your eyes.

“A LOT of great things.” you chuckled with jeonghan as you finally bid your goodbyes to stay in your room, letting your brother and his guest do their own thing.

november 13th isn’t only the day you met jeonghan, but also the day he captivated your heart. the day he hung out with your brother in your home’s living room, he suggested to go ice skating with seungcheol.

“i saw the nearby lake here while i was driving and saw some people skating, you wanna get some fresh air and skate? we can call yn too, if she wants.”

seungcheol agreed to do so when suddenly you came out of your room to grab a bag of chips from the kitchen.

“oh, yn! wanna come with us?” seungcheol asked you. you looked dumbfounded for a second, still continuing to grab your food.

“where? are you guys gonna kidnap me and sell me?” you asked as you take a chip and eat it. seungcheol flipped you off while jeonghan only chuckled.

“no? what the fuck? and if we did sell you, we’ll only get 5 bucks, max,” seungcheol said, earning a gasp from you, “but seriously, you wanna go skate with us? it’s at the lake near our neighborhood.” he said. you pondered but still agreed. seungcheol and jeonghan smiled.

“alright, you guys have your own skates, right? i have mine at the back of my car.” jeonghan asked as you and seungcheol said yeah.

“yeah, go get ready then, we’ll meet you in my car.” seungcheol said grabbing his keys and your guys’ skates. you ran to your room and fixed yourself up, coming to seungcheol’s car and sit on the back passenger seat.

arriving at the lake, you, seungcheol and jeonghan wore your skates and finally walked on the frozen lake. you stared at your own reflection on the ice as seungcheol scurried off, skating and laughing away. jeonghan was just right behind him when he saw you just standing and staring down. he skated back to you, only noticing his presence when you saw his reflection on the ice as well.

“you okay?” jeonghan asked you. you sweatdropped, embarrassed about what you were thinking about.

“yeah…” you said quietly. jeonghan stared at you softly and patted your shoulder.

“you sure? because just a while ago you looked like you were about to piss yourself.” he joked as you removed his hand on your shoulder, blushing in embarrassment from his words.

“no i did not! and i’m just a little scared since i haven’t skated in a while…” you admitted to him. he chuckled and suddenly grabbed your hand.

“come with me, i won’t let go of you until you’re comfortable skating on your own, yeah?” jeonghan comforted you as he skates further to the lake, hand in hand with you. you looked at your hand with his and looked back up to the back of his head. you pursed your lips and blushed.

“okay…” you quietly said, almost silently, only hearing the loud thumps of your beating heart. november 13th was the day your heart started beating for yoon jeonghan.

“merry christmas!” loud voices roared in the lit up room as you cheered gleefully. it’s been more than a month since you’ve met jeonghan, and tonight, december 25th, you finally saw him again. after exchanging gifts, a deep voice suddenly whispered into your ear.

“they’re a little bit crazy, huh?” your friend, wonwoo, said. you chuckled and lightly slapped his shoulder.

“don’t talk bad about your friends like that, wonu.” you said to him. you met wonwoo a month ago at a local game cafe. at first, you didn’t know who kept on beating you on a fighting game, considering you’re pretty good at them. until you got tired of losing for the nth time and walked up to the arcade stall in front of yours. there you saw a dark haired man with glasses, staring at the “you win!” sign on his screen. you walked up to him and he raised his head to look at you.

“you need something from me?” he asked you. you glared at him and looked at his screen.

“are you wonwonu96?” you asked with a glare evident in your eyes. he looked you up and down and nodded his head.

“you jjkl0vr? i beated your ass pretty badly in the past few games huh?” he teasingly asked, only making you irk more.

“well, i bet you’re cheating.” you retorted as he only shook his head.

“no, but i can show you a few tricks up my sleeve?” he asked and that’s what sold you to the mysterious man who kept on beating you on the game. you later on learned his name was jeon wonwoo and that you two were the same age. surprisingly, you two clicked as soon as the one sided beef simmered down in the game. you and wonwoo got dinner together and you later found out he had encountered something unfamiliar.

“you really had the hanahaki disease?! that’s fucking crazy, i’m sorry! it’s such a rare disease…did you tell them how you felt or got the surgery?” you asked him as you sipped on your hot chocolate. wonwoo sighed and took a bite of his ramyeon.

“i got the surgery. if i told them how i felt, i could’ve turned worse.” he admitted and you gave him a soft look.

“i’m sorry, wonwoo. you truly loved them…that means you forgot who they were huh? but hey! they do say there’s a lot of fish in the sea! or something like that.” you trailed off. you two ended up sharing numbers and became game buddies. after bidding your goodbyes and going home, you called your brother about what had happened.

“jeon wonwoo? i think he’s part of my uni’s esports club. yah! yoon jeonghan! you know a jeon wonwoo?” seungcheol yelled on the phone, asking jeonghan. you didn’t comprehend what jeonghan was saying, but hearing his distorted voice still made your heart beat.

“oh, really! just found out wonwoo is also a close friend of jeonghan’s younger buddies.” seungcheol spilled to you. you hummed as you lay down on your bed.

“but yn, i forgot to tell you but i’m coming back home for christmas break. jeonghan will be coming with me too, since one of his buddies is throwing a party. you wanna come with?” your brother asked you. you pondered.

“wouldn’t i be a nuisance though?” you asked your brother. you only met wonwoo today and now your brother wants you to come with him and jeonghan to a party of jeonghan’s friend? you suddenly hear shuffling in the background. your heart started beating louder when you heard the voice.

“you’re never a nuisance, yn-ie! and besides, i’ll be there! and so is wonwoo!” jeonghan said through the phone. you smiled and sighed.

“okay fine, what should i wear?” you asked him, hearing him chuckle and telling you that whatever you wear, you’ll still be pretty no matter what, earning a slap from seungcheol.

“i’m just saying yn, but how are you holding up? i know all of these guys are a little bit overwhelming and all.” he asked. you looked up at him and shook your head.

“i’m all good, meeting the other guys wasn’t actually that scary. i really like soonyoung, seokmin and seungkwan.” you said to your friend who chuckled.

“they’re the crazy bunch.” he said as he gets dragged by vernon, who told you that “you look a lot like seungcheol but prettier”, to play beer pong. you waved goodbye to your sighing friend and watched your brother and the other group play pool. seungcheol, jihoon, joshua and jun were chaotically playing as your eyes shifted to look for a certain dark haired male. not being able to find him, you sighed and continued drinking your cup of beer.

“you looking for someone?” someone said behind you and you flinched in surprise. you turned your head and saw the person you were looking for.

“jeonghan! you scared me!” you said to him holding your chest. he laughed and stood next to you.

“is that really the first thing you say to me after we haven’t seen each other in a month? wow, i thought you would say something along the lines of “jeonghan! i missed your pretty face, come kiss me!”” he joked as you blush. how the hell does he know about your tiny crush on him?

“crush? i don’t think so. you’re not my type.” you scoffed as he only looked at you with a smirk. he leaned in closer to you.

“your brother says otherwise.” he whispered. you blushed even harder and looked at him.

“shut up…” you meekingly said as he chuckles. he patted your head and put a hand on your back.

“did you like my gift?” he asked you as he pointed at the jewelry dangling from your neck. you held the moon shaped charm and nodded your head.

“i love it.” you said to him, as he smiled at you and held your hand.

“i’m glad, you wanna join us play pool?” he asked you. you nodded and looked over where wonwoo and his friends were.

“yeah, i don’t wanna get too drunk tonight.” you said to him and he shook his head.

“i get you. they’re a noisy bunch but i love them.” he said to you. you nodded and played pool with them. however, you got dragged by minghao, mingyu, chan and soonyoung to play beer pong with them. alas, you got really drunk after playing with them. minghao kept on insisting you to allow him to cut your hair since he’s having a “vision”. you ran away from him and sloppily went to where your brother was, who was also drunk in his end.

“you’re joking.” you slurred as you see your brother slumped on the pool table with jun and jihoon taking photos of him. joshua was just laughing while jeonghan was cracking up on a couch. joshua pulled him down and put him on the couch, next to jeonghan and a girl he’s talking with. suddenly, you felt throat tighten up and your heart starts beating faster. you tapped jun’s shoulder and ask him where the bathroom was. he looked at you with concern and pointed the directions. you ran your way to the bathroom and let all of the liquor out of your system.

“yn? are you okay?” a familiar voice asked behind you. you were kneeling down on the cold tiled floor and looked back.

“i’m good, jeonghan. don’t worry! just drank too much for my own comfort.” you admitted. he kneeled beside you and started rubbing circles on your back to comfort you. you were sweaty and him being this close to you just made you feel even hotter. despite this awkward and embarrassing situation, you felt your chest tighten up and your cheeks heating up. jeonghan kept on rubbing your back.

“feeling better, angel?” he asked you in a comforting tone. you nodded your head. you stared at him with tired eyes and he looked back at you. you two were unseemingly close to each other. jeonghan cleared his throat and broke his stare. you sighed and leaned your head towards the arm you were propping up. you suddenly broke the silence.

“ever since i met you, i thought you were the prettiest man i’ve ever seen.” you drunkenly admitted to him. jeonghan only stared at you. silence filled up the bathroom, only your silent snores keeping the silence calm. noticing that you’re already asleep, jeonghan sighed to himself.

“and i’ve always thought you were the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.”

“jeonghan?” you said out loud while you were standing in front of the university’s office. you were sending some files for uni when you saw jeonghan walking with someone.

“oh, yn? are you starting uni soon?” he asked you. he walked up to you, saying a quick goodbye to the person he was walking with. you looked at the girl he was with as she walks away. you nodded your head.

“yeah, this fall.” you said to him, “how have you been?”

“i’ve been alright, but i kept on waiting on your text since new year’s night.” he chuckled as you slapped your mouth.

“oh god! i’m sorry! i was too drunk to remember i had your number!” you apologized to him as he only laughed at you and patted your head.

“it’s alright. here, put your number on my phone so i’ll be the one texting you.” he said as he gave you his phone. you nodded and put your number in his contacts. he smiled at you.

“i’ll call you when my class is over, yeah? i wanna hangout with you today.” he said as he waved goodbye to you. you blushed and slowly waved back at him. you shook your head and went back doing your business with the uni. since it was early in the morning when you saw jeonghan, you assumed he would be done by late afternoon, in which he called you.

“hey yn! where are you right now?” jeonghan asked in the phone. you were currently at a local library, trying to find a book that could keep you distracted from life.

“hi jeonghan! i’m just at evergreen’s library right now…” you trailed off, not really wanting to bring up what he said a while ago.

“oh, the library near the uni? i’ll pick you up, okay? i’ll probably be there in 5. see yaa.” he ended the call, you still blushing. you knew that you only had a crush on jeonghan just because he was mad pretty and handsome…but also because he might’ve been the sweetest yet teasing person you have met.

it’s just a small crush, you told yourself.

after pacing back and forth in the library, jeonghan finally called you telling you he was outside. you left the library and saw him in his car. he rolled up his window and revealed his blushed face, most likely from the cold. he was wearing a gray beanie and a red scarf. he turned his head towards you and smiled.

“cmon, get in.” he said. you get in the passenger seat and shyly sat in silence. he noticed your awkwardness and chuckled.

“hey, loosen up. i’m not gonna bite you or anything.” he teased. you smiled at him as he started driving. you were wondering where you guys were going.

“i know what you’re thinking, “where is this gorgeous man taking me?”, well we’re going to an ice sculpture show downtown.” he said with a smirk. you laughed at his words.

“whatever, but i didn’t know tonight was opening for the show…” you pondered. you have always loved ice and snow shows. you stare at the snow falling on the car’s windshield.

“mhm, seungcheol didn’t wanna come so it’s just us for tonight.” he said. your smile faltered for a second, but kept a focused gaze on him.

“that’s too bad. he also loves ice sculpture shows, especially when we were kids.” you said. this caught jeonghan’s attention.

“also? so you love ice sculpture shows?” he asked as you hummed.

“yeah, i just love how people get creative with their works, especially on ice.” you said as jeonghan hummed in agreement. you and jeonghan soon arrived downtown and walked together to the ice sculpture show. there were families and children taking pictures of the sculptures. you looked at the scenery in awe, with bright lights shining through the sculpted ice. the two of you walked around the show and you stopped when you saw a sculpture of a laying woman surrounded by carnations.

“it’s so beautiful…” you whispered to yourself. you were standing still in astonishment of the ice sculpture, not noticing jeonghan’s gaze on you.

“she is.” he quietly murmured. you kept on admiring the sculpture more when you finally noticed jeonghan getting closer to you. you averted your gaze to him and saw him gazing at you as well. you gulped.

“it’s a wonderful piece, isn’t it?” you asked him. the closeness of your body and his providing the both of you warmth in the winter of january. he took a breath out of his mouth.

“mhm, it is. artists are crazy talented.” he complimented, finally looking at the artist statement.

“if you were a sculptor, what would you make?” you suddenly ask him. he looked at you and wondered for a moment.

“hmm…i would probably sculpt the most beautiful person i know…or just sculpt a bunny.” he said, giggling at his last statement. you looked up at him in awe and giggled as well. his eyes softened.

“what about you, yn? what would you sculpt?” he asked. you only looked back at the sculpture.

“i would probably sculpt something meaningful to me…i’m not too sure, to be honest. i’m more of a poet than an artist.” you admitted to him. jeonghan looked at you in shock.

“ohoh! i didn’t know you were into literature and stuff like that! what’s your favorite book?” he said in awe. you lowered your face in shyness.

“i was literally just at the library a while ago, jeonghan. but yeah, i love reading and writing. i guess i could say it’s a passion of mine.” you stated. he kept his gaze on you as you kept talking, “my favorite book right now is i would say…hmm…meet me in another life? hmm yeah.”

“say, if you ever write something, like a story or a poem? would you let me read it?” he suddenly asked you, which made you instantly look at him. your eyes flickered with a glint of excitement. no one except your brother wanted to read any of your works.

“you serious?” you asked him cautiously, your heart beating faster. he nodded his head.

“why would you think i wasn’t serious?” jeonghan asked. you widen your eyes, wandering your gaze just to lose contact of his.

“dunno…but yeah, sure.” you said shyly to him. he only kept looking at you when he suddenly touched your nose. you flinched.

“what the hell, man! what was that for!” you squirmed as he just laughs.

“your nose was pink from the cold! you looked too cute.” he said with a teasing smile. you blushed furiously as you just huffed. the cold breeze of winter hitting your face only made you shiver. you dressed comfortably for today’s weather, yet somehow, you were in need of warmth. jeonghan saw your shivering state and walked to you. you looked up at him when suddenly you were being wrapped in a red scarf, your lower half of your face being covered. jeonghan giggled at the sight of you.

“you look cute.” he simply stated. you pulled his scarf closer to your face and averted your gaze, being able to smell the floral and pine scent on the scarf.

“thanks, jeonghan.” you whispered. he hummed as he looked at you, almost lovingly. all of a sudden, people started gathering around.

“mom! look! it’s the northern lights!”

“open your camera! this is like a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the aurora!”

you and jeonghan looked up and saw the dancing pink and blue lights in the sky. hints of brilliant purple and blue danced the night away from the night sky. you heard jeonghan sign in awe of the sight. you glanced at him and made eye contact with him. he smiled at you.

“beautiful isn’t it?” he whispered. you looked at him and shifted your gaze back to the sky.

“hm, it is.” you hummed. you and jeonghan stood close to each other, watching the lights sway. your fingertips touched, making your hand flinch away from his. when he hook his pinky onto yours. your breath hitched, your head looked towards him. he was still watching the aurora. you smiled softly and turned your gaze back to the lights. the sound of children cheering and people being in awe filling your ears, but not overpowering the sound of you and jeonghan’s synced heart beat. january 11th was the night you came to terms with your feelings, that you were in love with yoon jeonghan.

“oh, you’re back. how was it?” a voice asked as jeonghan entered his dorm room. jeonghan looked up and saw seungcheol laying on his bed. jeonghan removed his coat and beanie as he looked at himself on the mirror beside seungcheol’s bed.

“it was great. we even saw the northern lights tonight.” jeonghan said to seungcheol, who grumbled in annoyance.

“really? god, if only i didn’t have to do so much work load tonight, i would’ve been able to see it. did you guys took photos of it?” seungcheol asked. jeonghan nodded and gave seungcheol his phone, revealing the photos. seungcheol scrolled through the photos when suddenly he saw a notification.

yn-ie 🐰: i had a great time tonight! thanks for bringing me back home

yn-ie 🐰: i hope you have a goodnight sleep, sweet dreams :>

seungcheol stared at the notification and looked at jeonghan, who was now getting ready for bed. he softly smiled at his best friend.

“han.” seungcheol called for jeonghan. jeonghan turned his head towards him and got his phone back.

“yeah?” he asked. seungcheol sat up on his bed to face jeonghan.

“you like yn, don’t you?” he suddenly asks the long haired male. jeonghan was now staring at seungcheol with shock evident in his eyes. he averted his gaze away from seungcheol, not giving him an answer. seungcheol only sighed.

“don’t hurt her, please,” seungcheol begged, “i can tell that you like her. i don’t mind you dating my sister, but please just don’t hurt her. you know she has that condition.” jeonghan looked at seungcheol with seldom eyes.

“i don’t know, cheol. i’m scared that if i continue liking her, i might just end up hurting her. she’s so precious that i might even choose her over anything in the world. but i’m so terrified that loving her might break her.” jeonghan admitted. seungcheol looked at him with sad eyes. seungcheol breathed deeply.

“if you’re not so sure of your feelings for her, then don’t pursue her, don’t lead her on. you’ll just break her heart. do what your heart says, jeonghan.”

“goddamnit, wonu! how the fuck were you able to beat me there!” you yelled at your friend as you two sat on his couch. he laughed.

“i told you, don’t spam attack. god, you’re like the worst person to game with.” he joked. you held your chest and gasped.

“huh?! shut up!” you argued when suddenly you watched your character die again. you sobbed in annoyance. wonwoo just chuckled and rubbed your back.

“it’s gonna be alright. it’s just a game yn…here, let’s go get boba to cheer you up.” he said as he turns off the tv and grabbed you towards the door. you flipped him off, still following him towards his car, carrying a red scarf with you.

“add dorayaki to that. boba wouldn’t be enough for me to forgive you.” you said to him as he chuckled. today, february 2nd, you decided to stay at wonwoo’s for a day and decided to play against each other, as you two always do, but plans changed when you ended up throwing a tantrum, to him tending your tendencies. you two soon arrived at the boba cafe and started looking at the screened menus.

“i might get matcha brown sugar boba, what about you?” wonwoo asked you. you stared at the screen and pondered.

“i’m craving for some brown sugar cheesecake boba, oh and don’t forget my dorayaki.” you said. wonwoo nodded his head as he tells you to find a seat for you two. you walked towards the front of the cafe and sat on an empty seat. people were talking about their whereabouts as you stare outside the huge window of the cafe. suddenly, you saw a familiar face outside the flower shop, alongside another, hand in hand. your heart ached at the sight.

“jeonghan…” you whispered in your breath. after the date night with him at the ice sculpture show, has never then contacted you. you sighed. he got your number, yet didn’t even want to reach out to you. now you’re seeing him holding hands with the girl you saw at uni. you were stopped in your thoughts when wonwoo sat in front of you. he gave you your drink and pastry. you smiled at him.

“thanks, wonu. even though you keep on beating me whenever we play games.” you said as you took a sip of your boba. wonwoo chuckled.

“it’s no problem. and besides, you’ve been looking gloomier these past few weeks. anything bothering you?” he asked. you sighed and looked out the window, jeonghan and the girl still at the flower shop. you noticed them looking at carnelians and lilies. wonwoo noticed your silence and looked at what you were looking at. he looked back at you sadly.

“is it jeonghan?” he suddenly asked. you shifted your eyes to wonwoo and sadly hummed. he looked back at jeonghan.

“you know, that’s hwa-young. she’s one of those sorority girls at uni. she’s not all that to be honest.” wonwoo said as he took another sip of his boba. you suddenly looked at him in curiosity.

“she’s kinda a bitch too. i remember her telling vernon that he didn’t belong in uni. then seungkwan rocked her shit right after she said that.” you snorted at his statement. the girl, hwa-young, didn’t look mean at all, but you still believed wonwoo’s words.

“you’re joking? what happened to seungkwan?” you asked, now invested in the story. wonwoo smiled softly.

“got in trouble with the dean, and seungkwan’s reason was that what she said to vernon was racially motivated. god i remember laughing so hard when seungkwan got in trouble after that.” wonwoo laughed as you did as well. the rings of the bell of the cafe door suddenly jingled, stopping you two from laughing. there you saw jeonghan and hwa-young walking hand in hand, similar to the way you and jeonghan skated together. you pursed your lips. wonwoo sighed as he grabbed your dorayaki. you yelped and grabbed the pastry back, now grabbing your attention.

“that’s mine!” you said to him. wonwoo hummed.

“don’t worry about hwa-young, yn. she’s nothing but a piece of crap.” wonwoo reassured you as you just nodded your head. you kept your gaze outside as you finally hear the bells ring again. now you saw jeonghan and hwa-young leave with their drinks. your heart started clenching onto nothing and it made you breathe hard. you held your chest and wonwoo widen his eyes.

“yn, are you okay?” he asked concerningly. he looked around and grabbed your hand, “let’s get some fresh air, okay?” he suggested as he grabbed your drinks and pastry and went outside. the snow is still falling even though february has come to the new year. you breathed deeply as the cold breeze hit your face. you held the red scarf close to your face, feeling the warmth of nobody. wonwoo looked at you with concern as he pats your back, settling the drinks on an empty bench.

“breathe slowly, yn. there you go…you feeling better?” he asked as you nodded. you felt better but the tightness of your throat and chest didn’t leave. you breathe slowly, wonwoo helping you in the process. you looked up at him and smiled.

“thank you, wonwoo…i think we should get back to your place.” you suggested. he nodded his head as you two went back to his car. the ride back to his apartment was silent, but comforting. he helped you get out of the car and let you rest up on the guest bedroom. you felt helpless. helpless that you can’t do anything at all. helpless that you can’t even tell jeonghan that you love him. helpless that you’re so sure that you have lost him. you sobbed in silence, your throat tightening up in every breath you take. you laid in silence as the hours go, with wonwoo checking up you every once in a while. you opened your phone and opened your contacts. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, your heart thumping on your chest. nothing’s going to happen if i don’t do anything, you thought.

you: hey jeonghan, can we talk?

you pressed send as you wait for a respond. not even a minute later, he replied.

hannie bunnie: yeah, where do you wanna meet up?

you: you know the children’s park near uni?

hannie bunnie: yeah, what do you wanna talk about?

you: i’ll see you in 10, thank you

hannie bunnie: ???

hannie bunnie: okay, fine, see you in a bit

you grabbed your coat and the red scarf he gave you. you smiled softly and left the room. wonwoo was at the kitchen cooking. he looked at you.

“you going somewhere?” he asked. you shook your head.

“just going for a stroll. i’ll be back in a few. see ya.” you said as wonwoo bids you goodbye. you walked towards the destination, staring at the snow on the ground. you huffed as the coldness striked you again. arriving at the park, you saw a figure by the swings. your footsteps approached the figure as he turned his head towards you. jeonghan looked at you and smiled softly. you didn't return the smile back.

“it’s been a while, yn.” he said as he sat down on a swing. you hummed as you sit down on the swing next to his. you two sat in silence in the cold winter. he suddenly cleared his throat.

“so how have you been?” he asked you. you scoffed and looked up at the sky.

“i’ve been good. all my paper for uni are getting finished soon. what about you?” you asked him, still looking at the sky, snow falling down your face.

“i’ve been okay too…” he trailed off. you were getting restless. you wanted to tell him how you felt now. but the tightness of your throat was stopping you. he still kept his gaze on you as you stared up. he sighed.

“yn, why did you want to talk?” he suddenly asked. you gulped, the words ready to be revealed stuck in your throat. you couldn’t say anything. you stood up and started walking away. this is embarrassing, you thought. you stopped in your tracks when you heard jeonghan’s footsteps behind yours.

“i just wanted to see you.” you said, your back still facing him. jeonghan scoffed.

“really? because your eyes says otherwise. what did you want to talk about, yn. be honest with me.” he demanded. you turned your body towards him and finally looked him in the eyes for the first time. he stared at your gaze that was full of fear and love.

“yoon jeonghan.” you said sternly. he breathed heavily as he looks at you with such immense emotion in his eyes. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply.

“i like you.” you said, almost a whisper being buried in the snow. jeonghan just stood in his spot, mouth agape. you looked into his eyes and there was a glint of hope, but soon disappeared. jeonghan closed his eyes and sighed.

“i’m sorry, yn…but i can’t return your feelings.” he finally said. your breath hitched, sobs and tears fighting their way out of your body. you composed yourself and you smiled sadly.

“that’s alright…thank you for hearing me out, jeonghan.” you said to him as he only stare at you in place, “we can still be friends though, right? a little crush wouldn’t hurt our friendship, right?” you said with a chuckle. jeonghan only looked at you with sad eyes.

“yeah, of course. i’m sorry.” he apologized again as you shook your head. you then started unwrapping the scarf from your neck and held it. jeonghan stared at it.

“i forgot to give this back to you then. here, it helped me keep warm.” you said, giving the scarf back when jeonghan pushed the scarf back to you. you looked up at him. he smiled softly.

“you can have it. if i can’t keep you warm this winter, that scarf will.” he said. you smiled softly and turned your back to him.

“again, thank you for letting me feel this way. i hope you have a good night, jeonghan. be safe.” you said your farewell as you started walking away, not looking back as the tears finally released itself. jeonghan watched your moving figure walk away from him. his heart stings but shakes it away.

“be safe, yn.” after walking away from the park, you fell to the ground and sobbed. the feelings you were tucking away from everyone has now come out. you cried as tears kept flowing down your rosy cheeks. you knew the consequences of your actions, but now being able to feel what you were thinking hurts more. you stood up from the snowy pavement and started walking towards wonwoo’s apartment. your sobs and heartbeat were the only things you could hear. nearing the apartment, you suddenly feel your throat tighten up, making you feel sick. you ran to wonwoo’s apartment door and knocked furiously. wonwoo immediately opened the door as you rush to the bathroom. you fell down to your knees as you throw up in the toilet. your throat burned from the sensation, almost feeling being pricked by thorns. your tears blurring your vision, not being able to see things clearly.

“yn…who was it?” wonwoo asked behind you, rubbing your back in circles. you shot your head up in curiosity.

“what do you mean?” you asked him, voice hoarse. wonwoo held you in his arms.

“roses. you threw up roses, yn. who was it?” his voice stammered as your eyes widen. you blink the tears away and looked at the toilet. there it was, full of rose petals, some even in full bloom. you felt sick and threw up again. wonwoo held you close. you only sobbed in his arms, not being able to answer him. february 2nd was the day your heart screamed roses.

“happy valentines!”

“happy valentines and birthday, jaehyun!”

“aw thank you! have you seen jungkook though?”

the university campus roared as valentines day filled the whole university. seungcheol stared at his friends at their lunch spot. every single one of them got valentine gifts, including him. he watched mingyu and soonyoung argue who got the most chocolates. he chuckled at the two. only one person was missing in the group. seungcheol turned his head towards joshua, who got a handmade gift and chocolate from his girlfriend. he nudged his friend.

“where’s jeonghan?” he asked the auburn haired male. joshua looked around and raised his brows.

“he told me he would be here in a few minutes…it’s been almost 20 minutes.” joshua replied. seungcheol facepalmed as he ate one of the chocolates he was given. suddenly, seungcheol was tapped by the shoulder, he looked behind him.

“oh, yuta. what’s up?” he asked the long red haired male behind him. yuta sighed in exasperation.

“jeonghan got stuck with his fangirls. he told me to tell you guys before he got engulfed in chocolates.” yuta said as he walked away, not giving seungcheol time to get up. joshua heard yuta and came with seungcheol. the others just stared at the eldest and shrugged it off, continuing to bicker. wonwoo, however, just looked at the two with gloomy eyes. mingyu looked at his friend.

“is something wrong, wonwoo?” mingyu asked. wonwoo shook his head.

“it’s nothing.”

seungcheol and joshua followed yuta through the halls and saw a group of girls surrounding someone, assuming it’s jeonghan. yuta sighed when he saw someone in the crowd.

“oh, hyungs!” he called out. the person turned around and waved his hand. seungcheol and joshua followed yuta to his friends.

“oh, i remember being in sophomore year and getting lots of gifts!” the red head said to the group of boys. the other male next to him agreed.

“yeah, i got lots of chocolates back then. too bad we’re depressed juniors now.” the raven haired male joked. yuta laughed as seungcheol and joshua chuckled. the raven haired male suddenly looked at the two.

“oh hey, cheollie and joshie” he said. they both greeted him back.

“hey, hobi hyung, jongin hyung. do you think you two can help us get our friend out of that swarm of ladies?” joshua said, earning a laugh from the two older males. jongin nodded his head and suddenly pushed through the crowd, hoseok did the same. yuta watched in awe while joshua and seungcheol watched in fear. just what the hell are they doing.

“hey!” hoseok suddenly yelled, “i have photos of jungkook shirtless! come to me if you wanna see them!” he said as he started running away when the girls started chasing him. jongin held jeonghan in place, preventing him from being trampled over. yuta laughed at the scene. jongin brought jeonghan back to his friends and smiled proudly.

“here you go, now i gotta get hobi back…see ya!” he said ss he chased his friend with the other girls. yuta chuckled and followed jongin. joshua and seungcheol just looked at jeonghan in disappointment. jeonghan raised his hands in defense.

“i didn’t do anything wrong!” he defended. seungcheol just looked at him in annoyance.

“yet you still let them surround you like that? god, hannie you need someone that’ll knock the sense out of you.” joshua argued as they started walking back to their spot. joshua and jeonghan filled up the silence as seungcheol just walked in front of them. they went back with their group and seungkwan finally clapped his hands.

“i have an announcement to make!” he said as he was pulled down by seokmin.

“sit down!” seoksoon said as seungkwan just glared at them. minghao chuckled.

“jungkook hyung is holding a valentines party tonight. he told me this morning that we’re welcome to come and i guess since we don’t have any plans for tonight, for some reason because we ALWAYS have plans during valentines, we should go.” he stated. the rest of the group stared at him when jun broke the silence.

“i think we should go.” he suggested. the others started agreeing then. seungkwan cleared his throat again.

“he also said if you have a date, bring them with you.” he added. the group agreed and started naming people they were bringing, while some said they would rather just get drunk tonight at the party.

“joshua, are you bringing your girlfriend?” seungcheol asked. joshua nodded his head.

“you?” joshua asked, seungcheol also said yeah. the two then looked at jeonghan, who glanced at them.

“what?” jeonghan asked the two males. joshua sighed.

“are you bringing anyone tonight at jungkook’s party?” he asked. jeonghan sighed and shook his head.

“nah…” he answered. however, minghao heard him.

“you’re not bringing your precious hwa-young with you?” he retorted. seungcheol raised his brows on his statement. jeonghan rubbed his eyes.

“me and hwa-young are just friends.” he argued back to minghao, who pulled back away from his seat.

“okay, okay, i was just saying because you two are getting awfully close to each other.” minghao said as he pondered for a moment. he then looked slyly at jeonghan.

“what about yn?” he asked. seungcheol made a face at minghao who just chuckled.

“hey, i mean, your sister is SOOO pretty and sweet, hyung. jeonghan hyung, if you’re not going with her, can i?” minghao teased as he got hit on the shoulder by seungcheol, who was also chuckling.

“my sister isn’t a toy that you can just pass around.” seungcheol defended you. minghao pouted and talked with jun and dino instead. he then looked at jeonghan.

“are you bringing yn?” seungcheol asked jeonghan. jeonghan’s breath hitched. he just shook his head no, when suddenly a voice came in.

“i’m bringing yn with me, is that okay, seungcheol?” wonwoo announced in the group. everyone suddenly went silent and looked at wonwoo, even seungcheol was surprised, even though he knew you and wonwoo are getting to the stage of being best friends. everyone was now looking at seungcheol, waiting for his answer.

“yeah, you can. you don’t have to ask permission, she’s your friend. i’m just her brother.” he answered. he felt jeonghan on his side tensed up on his answer. wonwoo hummed in satisfaction as they all continued talking again. seungcheol looked back at jeonghan.

“jeonghan, did something happen between you and yn?” he asked. jeonghan didn’t answer. seungcheol sighed and slumped back on his seat.

“hyung! did you really sell photos of me shirtless?!”

“yah, jungkookie, i was just doing business, that’s all!”

“that’s pretty funny, hobi hyung. i should’ve seen it.”

“what the photo or hobi hyung being trampled on by those students?”

“the photo so i could burn it.”

“there’s a lot of people here, wonu…” you said in between coughs. wonwoo held you close to him.

“it’s okay, yn. and besides, we’re all friends here. we’ll go to my buddies and we'll stay there, okay?” he reassured you. you were wearing a mini dress with a bedazzled handbag. you were terrified that you might accidentally throw up and cause a scene, not with vomit but with flower petals. you nodded your head as you walk towards the 97’s of the group. seokmin greeted you with a hug.

“yn! i haven’t seen you in a while! we should’ve exchanged numbers so we could talk!” he enthusiastically said. you nodded your head with a smile.

“i know, seokminnie! hey minghao! mingyu!” you greeted your friends. they both hugged you and told you how their day was. wonwoo tapped you on the shoulder.

“i’m gonna go with soonyoung and the others real quick. will you be fine by then?” he asked. you nodded your head.

“yeah, i think so. i have them here so i think i’ll be fine.” you said as he pats your head and walks away. the three just watched the interaction. mingyu sighed.

“i wish i had my own wonwoo…ah, wonwoo…” he groaned as you laughed.

“you’re so silly, mingyu. you can have him.” you said as he chuckled. you four talked for a while when someone wrapped their arms around mingyu’s neck.

“yah, mingyu-ah! can you believe it! hyung sold my shirtless photos…only for 10 bucks! am i really that cheap!” the brown haired male groaned to his tall friend. minghao stifled a laugh while seokmin just laughed hysterically.

“ah, really jungkook? i would say those photos are just around 5 bucks…hoseok hyung was being generous…” mingyu teased the male when he looked at you.

“oh hey! i haven’t seen you around! i’m jungkook.” he introduced himself. you smiled at him.

“hi, i’m yn. it’s your party right? it’s fucking crazy.” you complimented as he hides his face with his hands.

“oh you flatter me! well it was nice meeting you- oh yugyeomie! bambam! you guys are late!” he yelled, walking to the guests who just arrived. you stared at the man in awe while mingyu looked at you.

“he has that effect on people. i swear he’s like…edna mode.” he said as you, seokmin and minghao just stared at him.

“what does that even mean?” seokmin asked. mingyu shrugged his shoulders as he took a sip from his cup. you suddenly felt your phone vibrate and took it out of your hand bag.

wonuuu: saury but kwan dragged me to play beer pong

wonuuu: might get drunk idk stay with kyeom or hao, gyu is too crazy for you

wonuuu: 🕺🏻

you laughed at his texts and showed them to your friends, who laughed at it. mingyu grumbled.

“guys, be honest, am i too crazy?” he asked you three. you felt bad since the tone in his voice actually sounded sad, but this feeling disappeared when minghao said “yes” in a millisecond. you three laughed while mingyu faked cried, with you comforting him. suddenly, minghao stopped laughing and nudged seokmin’s elbow. he looked towards the distance. you followed where he was looking and almost regretted doing it so. jeonghan was walking with hwa-young, with his hand on her hips. you could feel your throat tightening up again. mingyu saw you and held you close. you gulped. minghao looked at you in concern.

“yn, are you okay?” he asked you. you nodded your head. seokmin walked next to you and comforted you as well. he could tell that you suddenly looked uncomfortable. you breathed heavily when you saw the two walked up to you four. hwa-young was greeting the three males, not even giving you a single glance, whereas jeonghan was looking at you, almost regretful in his eyes. you held on to mingyu, scared to move, scared that the flowers blooming in your lungs might come out of your throat. hwa-young noticed your hold on mingyu.

“who’s this? heyyy! i’m lim hwa-young! are you and mingyu dating?” she asked you. you gulped and shook your head no, your grip of mingyu only became stronger. you could feel it. you could feel the thorns blooming out of your throat.

“no, they’re not, hwa-young. and that’s yn, cheol’s sister.” jeonghan answered for you. you were in shock. minghao and seokmin noticed the tension between you three and stood next to you. mingyu, on the other hand, was confused. being an athlete means you spend less time with your friends and more time with your teammates, meaning that mingyu had no clue why jeonghan brought hwa-young with him.

“why the fuck are you with him?” he suddenly blurted out. seokmin widens his eyes. you were frozen now. why? because the people surrounding you were now staring.

“huh? what do you mean “why am i with him”? he’s my date. right, hannie?” hwa-young asked the long haired male next to her. jeonghan didn’t say a word, but he only looked into your eyes. you looked back into his and sighed.

“right, hannie? i’m your date?” hwa-young asked jeonghan again, this time, he was out of his trance.

“oh yeah.” he simply said, pulling her closer to his body. mingyu just looked at him confused.

“but isn’t she a shitty person?” he deadpanned. minghao was now panicking, pulling his friend away from the scene.

“huh?! shitty person?! what are you talking about?” hwa-young argued when someone stepped in between them.

“YA’LL, LET’S KARAOKE!!!” jungkook yelled, everyone now distracted and started doing their own thing again. hwa-young scoffed and walked away from the scene. jeonghan tried to hold her hand but she shook it away. jeonghan just stood in his spot watching her walk away. seokmin held you as minghao held mingyu back, explaining some things he had missed. you watched as jeonghan’s hand held hers for a moment. you stared at his hand and back to his face, making sudden eye contact with him. you can feel your lungs about to burst, and so is your heart. jungkook, still between jeonghan and mingyu, looked at you with concern.

“yn-ssi, you look pale. are you okay? do you need to go to the bathroom?” he asked you. not being able to say anything, you nodded your head. jungkook told you the directions and tried to come with you, but you stopped him. you ran towards the bathroom, seeing a glimpse of jeonghan’s worried eyes. you accidentally bumped into someone as you ran. you looked up at the person and saw familiar, related eyes. seungcheol.

“yn?” he said as you just ran past him. you ran to the bathroom and closed the door. you kneeled down the toilet and cried out your tears. you threw up all the contents of your lungs. roses, petunias and daffodils filling up the toilet. you closed your eyes to calm yourself down when you suddenly thought of how jeonghan held hwa-young close to him, holding her waist, closer to his body. you felt sick and threw up once again, now red poppies, red carnations and mums coming out of your throat. you could feel the thorns of roses in your throat. you coughed once again and saw what you dreaded the most, blood. as you were throwing up, you didn’t notice the door being opened and closed again.

“yn…what’s this…?” the voice asked you. you refused to look at the person behind you. you sniffled as tears started to pour out. the person started walking to you and gasped.

“you’re fucking kidding…hanahaki…yn, who is it?” the voice asked. you shook your head no, refusing to say his name out of your mouth. the person kneeled next to you and turned your body towards them. you refused to look into their eyes. you can tell they were furious.

“yn! tell me! who is it!” they demanded. you refused when suddenly you hear them sobbing, matching yours. you finally looked into their eyes. red. same as yours. pain and regret in their eyes, tears flowing down their face. he held your face in his hands as you cried.

“is it jeonghan?” he asked. you looked at your brother and nodded your head weakly. his breath hitched and removed his hands on face. he was crying as hard as you are.

“why?” he asked you. you looked at him in confusion.

“what? what do you mean why?” you asked seungcheol. he looked into your eyes, tears still pouring out.

“why are you allowing yourself to suffer? does anyone else know? just how long have you been suffering?” he asked you. you were crying again, coughing up some petals as you go. you rubbed your eyes.

“2nd of february,” you sniffled, “was when it started. wonwoo first saw it.” you cried into the arms of your older brother. he sighed and held you close to his body.

“yn, you should get the surgery…it’s better to get it now since your condition isn’t bad-”

“no! i don’t want that! i would rather die than erase the memories of the person i love! i would rather watch from afar than forgetting his whole existence! i’m more scared of losing him than facing death.” you argued to your brother, pulling away from his hold. seungcheol’s eyes started to water as he blinks the tears away.

“what the fuck are you talking about! you would rather lose your own life for love? yn, please! think! no one wants you to suffer to death! i don’t want you to die! i’m your brother for god sake! we only have each other!” seungcheol cried, now kneeling beside you, cradling your weak frame. you sniffled.

“seungcheol, i’ve always made sacrifices for everyone…let me be selfish for once…please, cheol, just this once.” you begged seungcheol. you two sat in silence, your sniffles and hard breathing filling up the ambience.

“yn…you know i can’t do that. please, just consider the surgery. please, yn. i don’t want to lose my sister.” he held you tight in his arms as you both cried the night of valentines away, on the bloodied floor of red carnations.

“hey wonwoo.” you said weakly, as you put your book and pen on your bedside table. wonwoo sits on your bed, and looked at you with somber and concern. he held your hand as his lips pursed.

“hi yn…are you feeling any better?” he asked you. you and seungcheol talked to your parents about the unspoken disease you have caught 3 days after the incident at jungkook’s party. your parents held you tight the whole time you were talking about it. they wanted you to get the surgery but also wanted to respect your decision, so now, they’re giving you a week to make a choice, either get the surgery or keep living until your body cannot handle the disease anymore. of course, they thought they could convince you to take the surgery on the last day. but for now, you were resting.

“i’m okay, wonwoo. but it still hurts.” you said, pointing to your chest. wonwoo sighed and rubbed your hand.

“i know, yn…” he said, almost having to say more. you quirked an eyebrow.

“are you going to say more?” you asked the man with glasses. he only looked at you and patted your head.

“yn, take the surgery.” he said. you coughed and shook your head.

“i don’t want to forget jeonghan, wonu. you know that.” you admitted. his eyebrows knitted.

“but yn, look at me. i took the surgery for my sake, even i probably didn’t wanna do it before. i forgot who that person was. i forgot the person that i loved so much, yet i lived. i lived and now i have met people that are precious to me. yn, please, we, your friends, want you to live on. so does jeonghan, he wants you to live.” he admitted. you widen your eyes, despite your limited body mobility.

“jeonghan…said that? does he know?” you asked him weakly. wonwoo shook his head.

“he knows about your condition, but we didn’t tell him it was because of him…he told us how he kept on calling and texting you, how he wanted to talk to you more.” wonwoo said, patting your head, “but he wants you to live…your condition is getting worse day by day. please yn, live, live for us, live for jeonghan.” wonwoo pleaded. you only looked at his hand when you suddenly hear sniffles. wonwoo was crying. you hated seeing him like this. you held up your hand and patted his head. he looked up at you and you smiled weakly.

“if it means for me to get more boba and wins, i’ll live for all of you.”

“are you ready, yn?” your brother asked you as you lay down on the hospital bed. march 2nd was the day of your surgery, and the day your memories of yoon jeonghan will disappear from the world. you smiled sadly at him, feeling your body break down on its own, knowing that you’re already too weak to actually do anything but lay down. he told you that 12 of his friends will visit you before your surgery. the doctor has told you to rest for at least 24 hours before the surgery. now, you only have 5 hours left. suddenly, the door opened, revealing 12 guys. you smiled at them.

“YN!!” mingyu and seokmin cried out loud as they ran to your bed. you jolt in surprise as seungcheol smacked their sides.

“calm down!” he said to them. seungkwan, hoshi and dino came next and told you that you’re gonna have a good recovery and surgery, and that you don’t have to be nervous. by their tone, they were more nervous than you were.

“you’re NOT going to die, yn!” seungkwan said. you sweatdropped.

“hyung is right, yn-noona. don’t be pessimistic about it!” dino stated.

“yeah! just think like you’re going to the dentist or something!” hoshi enthusiastically said.

minghao, jun and wonwoo came next. jun cried to you telling you that he’s going to miss your pretty face, in which seungcheol had him in a chokehold. minghao told you that whatever happens, you will always be an important person and you have served a purpose. it made you wonder for a second if they thought you were going to die. wonwoo then held your hand.

“yn, i know that the surgery will be a success. just look at me,” he chuckled, “but i love you, as your best friend, and stay strong for the surgery.” he said and kissed your forehead.

jihoon, vernon and joshua then walked up to you and told you reassuring words.

“it’s going to be okay, love can be subjective, but it’s so powerful that only you can overcome it.” jihoon said to you.

“after the surgery, let’s go get boba and dorayaki. wonwoo hyung told me you love them. have a safe surgery, noona.” vernon told you as he smiled.

“tell you what, i’ll treat you after surgery as well. we can go wherever you want.” joshua reassured.

your brother only smiled at you, not really wanting to give you words after he just did a when you woke up.

“yn. whatever happens, when you start to forget who jeonghan is, as your brother, i’ll make sure to give the love you deserve and i’ll make sure you find the love you have always dreamed of. i love you. let’s live a long life, okay?”

you were still admiring your brother when you felt a presence by your side.

“jeonghan…” you whispered, almost silently. he smiled softly at you. he then looked at seungcheol and he nodded.

“i’ll let you guys talk. we’ll see you in a bit.” seungcheol said as he pushed the 11 boys out of your room. soonyoung suddenly yelled.

“but i still wanna talk to her!-” the door shuts as you and jeonghan stay put, eyes not looking at one another. he stood right next to you and sighed.

“i…didn’t know that you had it. i’m so sorry, yn.” he apologized. you finally looked into his eyes and smiled softly.

“it’s okay, really. i’ll forget them anyways.” you said to him. he stared into your eyes and placed his hand on top of yours. he opened his mouth.

“i guess so…” he sat in silence, trying to find the right words to talk to you. you looked up at him as he rubbed your hand.

“yn-ie…you don’t deserve this.” he said, now starting to caress your ill cheeks. you blinked slowly at him and hummed. you unconsciously nuzzled on to his hand. he smiled softly.

“even in your worst condition, you’re still the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.” he commented. you chuckled lightly when you suddenly coughed, carnation petals coming out of your mouth. he rubbed your back and comforted you.

“i look pretty terrible right now, thanks.” you said as you continue gazing at him. he brushed a strand of hair away from your face and held you.

“yn-ie…remember when we first met? the time when i helped you get back on skating?” he asked you suddenly. you nodded your head weakly.

“the moment i saw you, i thought to myself “there’s no way that’s seungcheol’s sister” because i thought you were so beautiful, as beautiful as a blooming rose.” he admitted. you looked at him sadly and pursed your lips.

“then i remembered what type of person i was. most of the girls i pursue, i just hurt them. i didn’t want to hurt you, you’re too precious for this world,” he said, now sobbing, “i pushed these feelings away, even when we went to the ice sculpture show, i tried so hard to push these feelings away. but the moment i saw your eyes shine watching the aurora, i just knew i…i love you. i didn’t want to admit to my own feelings, but deep down i knew i care for you.”

“ cheol told me how precious you are to him, and i don’t want to break you, so i pushed you away from me, so that these feelings i have for you disappear. it did, for a while, but when you confessed to me that one winter night, i felt so…guilty and angry at myself. so angry that i couldn’t even face myself the next day. so angry that i wasn’t able to come to terms with my own feelings for you. i was so angry that i tried to push these feelings away and try to pursue another girl.i wanted to be so selfish, so selfish to tell you that i love you. but i couldn’t…because i know i will only end up hurting you.” he finally finished, now he was looking at you teary eyed. you looked at him as tears come down your face.

“you love me?” you asked in a weak tone, coughing again, now roses and blood. jeonghan grabbed the sanitary kit to clean you up. you thanked him.

“of course, i did…i had to push the feelings away so i wouldn’t hurt you…” he said. you looked at him sadly.

“oh…jeonghan, do you ever wonder who caused me to turn out this way?” you asked him somberly.

“may i ask who it is?” he asked you. you chuckled lightly to his statement. he looked at you confusingly.

“what is it?” he asked you genuinely. you held his hand that was placed on your hand, you looked into his eyes.

“jeonghan, it’s you. you’re the one i love.” you confessed. his face has gone pale and his breath hitched. his eyes watered and blinked the tears away.

“oh my god…no…” he whispered to himself. you shushed him and held his hand. you smiled sadly at him.

“jeonghan…hannie…it’s alright. i love every memory we shared together. you were a wonderful experience.” you smiled at him. he cried as he held your face.

“i’m so sorry…i really am sorry.” he apologized to you. you could feel your heart beat slow down in the moment. you placed your forehead against his.

“don’t apologize, jeonghan. i guess we weren’t just meant to be together…” you quietly whispered. jeonghan raised his head to meet your eyes.

“what are you talking about, yn-ie?” he asked. you smiled up at him and held his hand. you coughed more and placed his hand on your chest.

“it’s not beating properly anymore. you feel it? even if i get the surgery, i’ll die anyways. hannie, i’ve come into terms with my feelings for you, and i’ve also come into terms that we aren’t just meant for each other. we hurt each other in ways that we show that we love each other. you love me yet you pushed me away because of past experiences, so that you could protect. i love you yet i loved you too hard and hurt myself in the process. maybe, just maybe, we were just meant to cross paths and nothing else.” you said to him, your voice breaking. jeonghan sobbed in your arms.

“so, this is it?” he asked. you nodded weakly. he interlocked his fingers with yours.

“you were everything to me, yn.” he whispered into your ear. you could now hear your heartbeat clearly, beating slowly.

“i love you, jeonghan.”

“i love you too, yn…i love you so much…can i kiss you?” you nodded. that day, march 2nd, the last thing you heard was your heart monitor beeping. that day, the last thing you felt was your first and last kiss with yoon jeonghan, the person you have loved and died for.

“let’s meet again, in another lifetime.”

“jeonghan!” a voice yelled. the said male turned around and saw his friend, “wait up!”

“what is it, cheol?” jeonghan said to his friend. his hair was now longer than it did 2 months ago. his friend, seungcheol, has dyed his hair in a new color, his sister’s favorite color.

“the guys want to go karaoke tonight. are you up for it?” he asked the long haired male. jeonghan nodded his head.

“yeah sure, i have to stop by at the library near uni though.” he said to his friend. seungcheol nodded his head and told jeonghan to just meet him at their dorm room. jeonghan walked towards the library and looked through sections per sections. he coughed every now and then, going through books that haven’t been read. seeing a glimpse of what he needed, he checked the book out. the librarian, she smiled at him.

“meet me in another life, huh? this is a great book. i’m surprised only you and another regular read this book. have a great time reading it.” the librarian said. jeonghan smiled at her. walking back to his dorms. he suddenly felt his chest tighten up.

god, not again.

he ran to the nearest bathroom and locked the stall. he kneeled down and poured out all of the contents in his stomach. he stared at the toilet bowl and sobbed quietly. he flushed the toilet immediately and went back to his dorm, as if nothing happened. what he didn’t notice was that red carnation petals fell on to the floor. on that day, may 2nd, yoon jeonghan will have the same fate as ln yn. bound to end the same, never bound to end together.

#svt x reader #seventeen x reader #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x you #jeonghan x you #angst #svt angst #kpop #kpop fic #wonwoo #choi seungcheol #minghao #svt #svt fic

221 notes · View notes

captainremmington-13 · 1 month

Text

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of death, sadness, and lonliness

A/N: the next part is gonna include capture the flag ;))

As soon as you heard the yelling, you were certain that someone had died.

The sensation that washed over your body confirmed your suspicions. Your powers always told you when a being was truly dead and beyond saving. However, this time, it felt slightly different. The being’s life had been halted, but not ended. They were no longer aging, but their soul remained in their body.

Putting down the blanket you were folding, you slipped on a pair of worn-down sneakers and left Cabin 11. Walking down the stairs, you internally hoped the scene wasn’t too gory. Even if you were the child of death itself, you weren’t a fan of seeing people mutilated.

Just by listening for a moment, you could tell that the chaos was occurring at the border of the camp. Putting two and two together, you realized a new camper must have arrived. You’d seen several demigods try to get inside the safety of the camp border’s, and lose their lives in the process.

But as you approached the hill where several other demigods were crowded together, you saw two kids who were very much alive. The more baffling sight, however, was the large pine tree at the highest point of the hill that definitely hadn’t been there before.

You tapped Will Solace on the arm, making him jump slightly. Ignoring his reaction, you asked, “What in Hades is going on? Where did that tree come from?”

“Uh…” Will said, scratching the back of his neck. “Three demigods and a satyr were being chased by monsters as they approached the camp border. One of the demigods, a daughter of Zeus, sacrificed herself to let the others get to safety. It seems that instead of letting her die or saving her, Zeus turned her into…” He gestured at the tree. “That.”

Typical god behavior. When they try to help their offspring, they only make their lives worse.

“That’s unfortunate,” you said to Will. “I don’t think there’s much we can do.”

“Yeah,” Will replied awkwardly. “Try not to worry about it. We’ll get the two new campers settled into Cabin 11 as soon as we can. You can meet them then.”

Understanding that he wanted to end the conversation, you simply nodded and walked away. You had learned to recognize the signs that signaled when people no longer wanted to be in your presence, and Will was exhibiting several of them.

But that was alright. You didn’t really feel like sticking around anyways. You were your own best companion.

________________________________________________

“Hey, uh, is the top bunk taken?“

You looked up from painting your nails to see a boy standing in front of you. He had curly brown hair, a lean figure, and brown eyes that had a mischievous glint in them. He was holding a small backpack, which likely contained all of his personal possessions.

“That’s Kalia’s bunk. You can take that spot over there.” You pointed to a twin-sized mattress squished in between two bunk beds.

“Oh…okay.” The boy set his backpack down on the mattress and sat down next to it. “So, are you…you know, a Hermes kid too?”

You laughed without humor. “Do I look like one of Hermes’s spawn?”

The boy flinched. “No.”

“You have your answer then.”

He sighed. “I suppose it’s for the better that he’s not your father. He’s completely neglected me all my life.”

“All of the gods do that to their demigod offspring,” you said. “Except for a rare few. And even then, the most their children get are occasional visits and favors. Some of the gods choose favorites, which causes chaos here at camp.”

The boy nodded in acknowledgement. “That seems frustrating.”

“It is.”

“So…if you’re not one of Hermes’s children, are you unclaimed?”

You shook your head. “No. My father just doesn’t have a cabin, so I’m stuck here.”

“And who exactly is your father?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing that your answer will probably scare the boy off. But you decided to be honest. If he can’t handle the truth, that’s his problem.

“Thanatos, god of death.”

Instead of going pale and quickly looking away, the boy gave you a small smile. “Cool.” He stood up again, walking over to your bunk once more. He extended his hand.

“I’m Luke. Luke Castellan.”

As you shook his hand firmly and told him your name, a genuine feeling of warmth grew in your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d found someone who didn’t treat you like a walking time bomb.

________________________________________________

You took it upon yourself to show Luke around camp the next day. This shocked everyone, as you usually didn’t converse with anyone for more than a few minutes at a time. You and him spent the entire day together, and even ate dinner side-by-side at the Hermes table. It was the most time you’d spent with just one person in ages.

You explained to him the unspoken rules of the camp. In order to prevent being messed with, you had to prove that you were worthy. Glory was extremely important, and could be earned by winning Capture the Flag or going on quests. And protecting your cabin’s honor was of top priority. If another cabin somehow slandered yours, you had the right to retaliate (even though Chiron and Mr. D didn’t approve).

The more you interacted with Luke, the more you liked him.

Luke adapted to his new environment extremely well. He quickly established a reputation as an excellent strategist and seasoned fighter. Apparently, he had been on the run since he was nine, and picked up a myriad of skills along the way. He was particularly good at picking locks, which wasn’t surprising.

He also made friends quickly. His charming personality drew in every person he interacted with. He was witty, ambitious, and made good conversation. Plus, his impressive abilities made him a useful ally.

After he settled in, you expected him to forget about you. He had more popular, less terrifying companions.

But he didn’t. In fact, he became your closest friend.

Despite being different in a variety of ways, your personalities blended like a dream. He appreciated your dry, subtle sense of humor, and encouraged you to always keep improving. And you admired his mischievous nature. He’d even gotten you to lighten up a bit, and become less adverse to participating in group activities.

You slowly learned more about him, and he learned about you. You both assumed it would scare the other person off, but that knowledge only brought you closer together.

But most importantly, you both quickly learned that together, you were essentially unstoppable.

taglist: @orionspaperwork

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! I have some rly fun ideas for upcoming chapters, so stay tuned!😊

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

#luke castellan #luke castellan series #luke castellan x you #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x reader #demigods #thanatos

100 notes · View notes

sundrop-writes · 7 months

Text

Kisses Like Fire Whiskey

Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Summary:

When you come back from a long healing apprenticeship in France, you and Fred catch up over drinks, reminiscing about your days as mischievous rebels. In the drunken haze, some important things are realized.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Fluff (with a slight bit of Angst). Set post Deathly Hallows and during Goblet of Fire.

Word Count: 7,500

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is bookended with scenes that take place after the war, but obviously this is a Fred Lives AU; part of this takes place after main storyline of Deathly Hallows and part of it takes place in a flashback during Goblet of Fire (when Fred and the reader are in their sixth year); the reader and Fred are the same age; while part of this takes places post Deathly Hallows, there isn't mentions of the war; it's never mentioned exactly how long the reader was away, but the reader and Fred are both in their early 20s in the bookended parts; drinking and drunkenness are major plot points in this fic, as well as underage drinking; underage characters being in a bar/pub; Fred and the reader both drink, but there are mentions of Fred seeming more sober than the reader/handling his alcohol better; they are drunk to the point of lowering their inhibitions, but not to the point of passing out or forgetting things; mentions of George x Katie Bell as a background ship; mentions of splinching/the dangers of Apparating while drunk (does not actually happen in the fic, everyone is fine); mentions of vomiting due to over consumption of alcohol (doesn't happen to any of the main characters of this fic, it's a very small background element); passing mention of a cursed object that makes people spit up their own blood; creepy men approach the reader (and Fred defends her) - minor sexual harassment from older men toward the reader; this does use Y/N (I started out as a Quizilla girly, I will live and die by Y/N); this is mostly just mutual pining and fluff with a love confession at the end. So please enjoy!!

A/N: when I read the original request, I was inspired to take it a lot further, and after writing The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes, I have realized that I really loving writing simplistic fics that are mutual pining that turns into a love confession. It's so much fun.

...

“So then - so then - Bill says: ‘where’s Percy?’, and Mum looks around the table and realises Perce is even there.” George chuckled brightly, topping off the telling of another one of their chaotic childhood stories.

“‘Course, Mum blamed it on us.” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

“As if she was wrong!” You argued, reaching out and smacking him on the shoulder playfully.

Your words were louder to your own ears than you had intended to say them, slurring slightly on your lips. Perhaps you had more to drink than you had realised, but you were simply having fun catching up with your dearest, oldest friends. So you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care or view it as a problem.

You were simply overjoyed to see Fred and George again.

You were visiting England for the first time in years, and naturally, the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes shop had been your first stop. You had grown up with the twins - since your first year at Hogwarts together, they had been two of your closest friends. Ever since you had been sorted into Gryffindor with them, the three of you had been thick as thieves. Right from the moment you had suggested to them that they actually unscrew a toilet seat lid and send it to their little sister Ginny in the post when they had initially just been joking about doing so. Ginny had found it highly amusing - their mother, not so much.

But when you met Molly for the first time in person, you were always on her good side. You were very good at playing the ‘perfect angel’ in front of authority figures (unlike the twins). So you could very easily bat your eyelashes and say a few sweet things, as well as being on your best behaviour on the surface, before sneaking around with the twins at night and helping them with their pranks - not that anyone else ever suspected you of doing so.

You were the perfect accomplice for them. Someone who was labelled as a goody-two-shoes who was down for mischief at any time.

You had been slightly heartbroken when you found out that they were planning to quit their Seventh Year partyway through in order to start their joke shop. You knew that it had always been a dream of theirs, and it was your dream to see them succeed in it. But a large part of you had been hoping to graduate with your best friends by your side. They had offered for you to come with them, of course. They told you that you could have a very fulfilling career at the shop. But you had other plans for yourself.

So you watched them ride off on their brooms, cheering and hollering for them alongside everyone else. And after your graduation, you had come to visit the shop in its full glory, seeing its whimsical beauty with your own eyes before you left England. As much as you hated that your lives had taken such different paths, you admired them deeply for succeeding.

Since then, you had been in France. You had taken on a prestigious healing apprenticeship in order to become a high level Healer. It was something you had always dreamed of doing - helping people through the skilled art of healing.

Perhaps, in some ways, it was a career choice inspired partially by your two best friends - seeing them blow themselves up or get horrible boils testing their own products, you wanted to be able to soothe the side effects faster. And you knew that there were plenty more children out there like them. Children who would fall from trees pretending to be a dragon or lose their teeth trying to eat a deck of Exploding Snap, children who needed gentle understanding from a Healer rather than scolding.

You had recently finished up your apprenticeship, and you were hoping to get a job at St. Mungo’s to be closer to the people you always viewed as family. But even just stepping foot back in the twins’ shop felt like home. You had been greeted with tight hugs and so much chatter between them about missing you that you could barely decipher the words between two voices. They had invited you up to the flat above the shop for a drink - so now, hours later, you were quite tipsy and feeling the best that you had in years.

“You know boys, I haven’t - I haven’t been this tossed off my tits in quite a while!” You announced loudly, pausing between words to let out a small hiccup, signifying just how drunk you were.

You weren’t at the level of drunk where things were unpleasant - not where the room was spinning and you were on the verge of passing out, battling with nausea. But your normal sense of proprietary had definitely been tossed out the window, you felt fuzzy around the edges, and everything felt delightfully warm. Especially considering you had been drinking Fire Whiskey.

You hadn’t had a drink all throughout your apprenticeship, as much as the other young people working with you encouraged you to ‘take a load off’ every once and a while. Your work was something that you took very seriously (especially when Fred and George weren’t around to tempt you with pranks and daily mischief). So this was the first time in a long time that you had actually taken the time to relax, and the alcohol was hitting you a lot harder than even you realised.

The boys chuckled at your words, George turning bright red from how hard he was laughing. Perhaps the booze was hitting him pretty hard too. While Fred’s eyes were dancing with that brightness they always had when he was having fun, he didn’t seem quite as sloppy. You hadn’t been paying attention, but he likely didn’t have as much to drink, and had simply been enjoying your company the entire time.

“You know, I really missed you, Fred and George.” You said, pure sincerity dripping through your tone, your affection amplified in your chest by your drunkenness. You couldn’t hold yourself back - your emotions bubbling to the surface without your consent. “And I really, really missed you, Fred.”

You turned to him, putting a warm hand on his shoulder, your touch practically burning up through the sleeve of his silken shirt (you were surprised by how nicely the twins dressed now that they were established bussinessmen). You hated that you couldn’t hold back the need to emphasise the fact that you had missed Fred just a bit more. But he had been on your mind a lot more than his brother had, as scarily similar as they were.

Even if you had barely admitted it to yourself, throughout all your years at Hogwarts, you had a romantic inclination towards Fred.

It was never something you had acted on, for fear of ruining the amazing friendship that the two of you had. But as your visit to England grew closer and closer, you found yourself losing focus on your work and thinking about him more and more. You wondered if he had found someone - you wondered if his good looks, his charm, his humour had landed him a wife in the time that you had been gone. It wouldn’t have surprised you if, during the time you had been gone, he had married or even had kids.

Obviously he had a wonderful career nailed down, so a family would have been the natural next step for him.

Those thoughts made you approach the shop’s door with equal parts dread and excitement. You eagerly wanted to see him again but didn’t want to see that there was a ring on his finger. You had been all too happy to find out during your long, winding ‘catch up’ conversation that, in fact, he was still single. George had brought up that fact more than once, actually, nagging on his brother’s lonely status like it was the most recent funny joke he could prod at.

When you heard him talk about it, there was that insecurity still bubbling beneath the surface - the thought that you had missed your chance, or that Fred had never been interested in you romantically at all. It was something that couldn’t even be knocked away by booze, and that was gnawing at you now that storytime was winding down.

Fred and George exchanged a look - one of those silent conversations that could only be had through micro-expressions because of their closeness as twins. It was something that had always deeply irritated you during your days at Hogwarts, desperately trying to decipher if it meant ‘close to expulsion’ trouble or simply ‘skipping a class’ trouble.

“Well, would you look at the time,” George said, loudly and rather cartoonishly as he looked at his watch. It was something that you likely would have found suspect if you weren’t feeling hazy and drunk. “I told Katie I would pop over to hers sometime this weekend, so I should get going,”

Something that had come as a brilliant surprise to you: finding out that George was now engaged to Katie Bell.

Not only were you shocked to know that George seemed more than eager to ‘settle down’ and get married, but you were entirely curious about how they came to be as a couple. Especially considering that, as far as you knew, she had always seemed to find the twins’ pranks more annoying than anything else.

But you supposed that annoyance and attraction were two twigs on the same branch, the tree just needed to be shaken a little for something romantic to happen. The two of them hadn’t officially moved in together yet, as much as George talked about her with those sweet, rose-coloured lenses, and seemed to want to spend all his time around her. The twins still lived in the flat above the shop, two twin beds in the bedroom, as they always had in their room at the Burrow. But from the way Fred remarked on it, and from what you had seen glancing into their bedroom when you had gotten up to use the toilet, George was over at Katie’s far more than he was at their flat.

You couldn’t help but to find it sweet. George was in love.

It made you happy for him, knowing that he had found someone good for him. But thinking about it caused a pang in your chest as you wondered if Fred was lonely. You knew that loneliness certainly wasn’t a feeling that he was used to. If it was you or George, or one of his many other brothers, he always had someone at his side to keep him company.

You could only imagine what those nights were like - when the shop closed up and George popped off to his soon to be wife’s place, leaving Fred to nothing but the quiet. (You knew that Weasleys were never good with quiet - part of the reason that the twins were the way that they were.)

George peeled himself off the floor, where the three of you had been sitting around the coffee table in the lounge. Like a gangly baby deer, he began stumbling about due to his own drunkenness before he gained a proper footing and finally managed to stand up straight. You let out a snorting laugh at the sight and Fred - very clearly the most sober of the three of you - rushed out of his seat to grab George by the shoulders, making sure that his brother was alright.

“You sure that you’re okay to Apparate, Georgie?” Fred asked.

That kindness, that caring - it was something people often overlooked when they saw Fred Weasley. But it was one of the things that had drawn you to him the most. He was such a sweet person, and he cared about the people in his life with such a ferocity that it made your soul ache just to know that you were one of them.

“I’ll be fine, Freddie.” George replied.

Fred picked up George’s coat and began helping him into it, and you barely paid attention to the hushed conversation that the two of them had as you picked up the large (now rather light) bottle of Fire Whiskey and poured yourself another drink.

You caught something online the lines of ‘just go for it, for Merlin’s sake’ - very strained and annoyed, but you honestly had no clue what they were talking about. As you took a sip of your drink - you truly didn’t care.

Fred heaved out a sigh and then George disappeared with a crack. You craned your neck to look at the spot where he had been, just wanting to make sure that there was no blood or unsightly pieces of George left behind. There weren’t any - he had done fine.

“Havin’ another one, are we?” Fred remarked, walking around the coffee table to collapse onto the plush couch behind your back.

You chugged the rest of the Fire Whiskey from your glass all in one go, growling slightly as it burned sharply down your throat before you put the glass down once again.

“I’m celebrating!” You cheered loudly - again, much louder than you intended it to be. “I missed my best friends so much. It’s so - so good to be home.”

“But apparently you missed me just a bit more?” Fred chuckled, referring to your comment from before.

You moved to get up on the couch with him, and found your legs unsteady beneath you. Fred saw what you were doing and put a hand on your upper arm, hauling you back to sit on the cushions beside him. You moaned quietly at the warmth of his large hand on your bare skin, exposed by the camisole you were wearing. At one point, you had been wearing a nice cardigan, but you had stripped out of it as the alcohol drove your body temperature up.

You leaned back into the couch, and cuddled up against him. His body was soft and muscled at the same time, and he felt so nice against you. With your inhibitions lowered, you could see no fault in snuggling tightly into his side and laying your head on his chest. You wanted to simply enjoy the physical affection from a person you had missed so dearly.

You didn’t see the pure warring on Fred’s face as you did this - the confliction and yearning and hurt flashing over his features. He had missed you too, but he knew that you had missed him as a friend, just as a good friend, and not as the ‘one that got away’ that he had been thinking about every damn day since. But he could be cool about this, he told himself. He wouldn’t let his stupid feelings get in the way.

After a moment of pushing those pesky feelings back down, he finally relaxed into your touches and wrapped an arm around you, lazily brushing his fingers across the bare skin of your arm on the other side. You sighed happily at the feeling. From this close, he could smell the feminine floral waft of your perfume in combination with the hot cinnamon of the Fire Whiskey. And though it only made him yearn more, it was heaven.

He was all too happy to have you this close rather than you being so far away in France. He was happy to have you home.

“Do you want to stay the night?” He asked. “George’s bed will be empty, of course.”

He added on that second part quickly - he wanted you to feel comfortable, didn’t want to put any pressure on you to keep up this closeness, even if you seemed cuddly and affectionate because of your drunken state.

Originally, you had been planning to get a room at The Leaky Cauldron, but the twins’ shop had been your very first stop, and they had torn your suitcase out of your hands to bring it upstairs for you, so it was currently sitting off to the side of the lounge with your coat draped over it. And you never did get that room. Now, you realised it was laughable to think that you’d be staying anywhere but with friends, especially with the Molly Weasley hospitality baked right into them. You had to assume that even if George wasn’t at Katie’s, he would have slept on the couch so that you could take his bed anyway.

“Freddie, you know, I don’t think I’m going to get very far.” You said. “You - you got me pretty d-drunk.”

Fred smiled to himself. “Ah, I see. Once again, it is all my fault.”

It was something you did at large during your days at Hogwarts. You blamed him for yourself being late to class, you getting detentions, the few times you had ended up on Molly’s bad side. When in reality, you had always been a cheerful, willing participant in their chaos, you had always ‘blamed’ him for dragging you into it. But it only made him tempt you into more trouble.

“It is,” You sighed, turning your head to give him a wide grin. “You always g-get me into trouble.”

Fred let out a quiet laugh at this, and you laid your head on this chest once again. The two of you mulled in the comfortable silence for a few moments before you thought of something.

“You know, this-s reminds me, of - of the first time you got me drunk.” You told him with a laugh.

“Oh, god, back in sixth year?” He posed, returning to the memory himself. “That was epic. I still don’t know if I’d call it an epic disaster, or epic fun.”

“Bit of both.” You mumbled quietly. “Always is with you.”

Sitting there, curled up next to the lovely warmth of him, you remembered the night so fondly.

…

Leave it to Fred Weasley to pull you out of bed at half past two in the morning with no solid explanation as to why, aside from ‘we have plans’.

When you asked him why he couldn’t conduct those plans with George, as he usually did, he simply smirked and said that George had plans of his own. Which deeply worried you - but you tried your best to ignore it. You knew from experience that Fred wasn’t a walking troublemaker all the time.

In fact, the events of just a short week ago had proven that to you. He had invited you to the Yule Ball (as friends, of course) and the entire evening had been absolutely pleasant. No pranks - no water balloons, no coloured dye, no buckets of feathers, no charmed objects, no floods. It had been nothing but a delightful night of dancing and chatting with your friends.

Even now, as Fred pulled you into the mouth of a very small passageway that you had never seen before (one that caused you to slump over in order to walk through it), you pulled your scarf tighter around yourself and tried your hardest not to worry about what he might be up to. At the very least, if he was planning something large and disruptive, you would know about it, so that you wouldn’t be on the receiving end.

He had told you that these ‘plans’ involved going outdoors, so you had bundled up well, because there was still quite a few feet of snow outside and it was chilly, seeing as it was so late at night. But you hadn’t expected it to be so damn cold, walking in a random mystery tunnel underneath the school. Again, you had no clue where he was taking you or where the thing even led - you were simply glad when it became tall enough for you to straighten your back up.

“Where are we going, Fred?” You demanded harshly.

“You’ll see.” Fred told you, throwing a wicked grin over his shoulder at you as he continued to lead you forward through the darkness - the light of his wand being the only thing leading the way in the musty old tunnel.

“Nothing good ever happens when you say those words.” You replied, heaving a deep sigh.

“Well, perhaps, you could keep your mind open this time.” He said brightly. “Loosen up. Be open to all the possibilities that the universe has to offer you,”

You rolled your eyes at this. He was trying to direct your attention away from whatever scheme he had planned, that much was immediately clear to you.

“Is this an escape tunnel out of the country because you finally did something bad enough for your mother to kill you?” You joked. “Let me guess, you’re meeting George in Germany? What was it that finally pushed her over the edge? Did she find out that you two took bets at the World Cup? Did she find out about the-?”

Your words were abruptly cut off when Fred tapped his wand on the wall in front of him. It was a seemingly a dead end wall made of stone, keeping the two of you trapped at the end of the tunnel. But when he whispered some incantation under his breath, the stone began to grind loudly and it parted ways - letting in a gust of cold air from the outside, revealing the way out.

Fred stepped forward and you continued to follow him. As the stone grinded closed behind the two of you (now disguised as nothing more than a large, natural boulder) you gaped with shock as you saw a cluster of lights just down the hill and you quickly realised what it was.

“Hogsmeade.” You declared quietly, entirely shocked that you had walked through a dirty tunnel and ended up here.

Somehow, without getting caught - without setting off any charms that should supposedly be in place to keep the students on the school’s grounds.

Fred nodded proudly, grinning at you.

“How-?” You gaped.

“I have my ways, don’t I?” Fred said, his chest visibly puffing out with pride.

You decided not to question it. Especially because you fully understood it now - Fred was bored, he knew a way out of the school, and he simply wanted to have fun in Hogsmeade instead of laying in bed that night.

Fred took a hold of your hand as the two of you walked into town, and you took a quiet joy in observing Hogsmeade at night. Quite a few of the shops were closed, due to it being so late, which did make you wonder why Fred had even bothered to bring you there.

But he soon answered your question when he brought you to The Three Broomsticks - which was lit up, bustling and lively at this time. You knew that the front door was enchanted to alert the owner of underage wizards trying to pass through at certain times. Before you could even wonder what Fred’s plan was for that one - he led you around to the back, and he caught the back door out of someone’s hand as they ran outside and began puking in a snowbank, obviously unable to handle their liquor.

The two of you slipped in the back door completely undetected, seeing as it didn’t have those same enchantments to alert the owner of your presence. You began tingling with the glee that you always wore whenever Fred pulled you along to perform some mischief. You felt so joyous when you paired up to share wicked secrets with him. Fred had a talent for getting away with things (and other times, he so fabulously didn’t) - but he got away with a lot more than anybody ever realised, right under their noses. You felt clever just being around him most of the time.

With all the confidence in the world, still holding your hand, Fred pushed past some other rowdy patrons and waltzed right up to the bar. He tossed down a few Sickles (bet money that he and George had won from the World Cup, you could guarantee) and you couldn’t help but to grin at him as so confidently placed an order.

“Two Fire Whiskeys, please.” He announced, never once skipping a beat or faltering as any other underage person in a bar would.

It was strange to say, but Fred wore playful deception so well. You knew that you were staring at him with intense attraction written all over your face as you admired his antics. You simply hoped that he wouldn’t catch the love dopey look on your face and call you out on it.

“Coming right up, love-” Madam Rosmerta began to comply with his request without issue, but she took pause when she looked up from drying a glass with a rag long enough to truly look at the two of you.

That was the moment you thought it was over, for sure. You thought that she would send an angry owl up to Hogwarts, and the two of you would be done for. You began to imagine what kind of sick and twisted punishment McGonagall would have in store for the two of you - scrubbing cauldrons for weeks, trimming all the grass on the Quidditch pitch with scissors.

But somehow, Fred was a lot more clever than that. He wasn’t going to give up and simply let himself be caught.

“Aren’t you two a little… young to be in here?” She posed, glancing between the two of you and then looking back toward the front door, as though she was expecting the enchantments to suddenly begin wailing to alert her to a couple of underage wizards in the pub. Even though the two of you had successfully made it all the way over to the bar without that happening.

“Young?” Fred scoffed, putting on his very best tone of fake offence. “Honestly, woman, why would a couple of kids be in a pub at three in the morning?”

Rosmerta raised a brow at him, making it clear that she didn’t buy this - at least not yet.

Your stomach curled with nerves, and you tried your hardest not to show it on your face. You knew that this would either end in a spectacular punishment, or Fred would pull off one of his greatest hoaxes yet.

“Perhaps you might recognize us from when we were Hogwarts students,” Fred shrugged, trying his best to sound casual. “But we graduated year before last. And we just got off a very long shift with the Department of Cursed Objects, and we would simply like a drink.”

“Yeah, that last one was a doozy.” Your tongue moved before you gave it permission, and you found yourself leaning on the bar as you added onto Fred’s lie. “We had to hunt down this set of silver teaware that poisoned anyone who drank out of it. They were spitting up blood, and rotting from the inside out, choking on their own-”

“My apologies.” Rosmerta said, giving a curt smile. Clearly, she was increasingly uncomfortable with the graphic nature of your made-up story, and simply wanted you and Fred out of her way. “You must be right. The students from the school all start to blend together after the years. How ‘bout that drink then?”

She turned to grab a pair of non-cursed glasses, and when you glanced over at Fred, he was grinning widely at you.

“Good one.” He whispered into your ear, and you couldn’t help the shiver that went through you at the feeling of his hot breath on your neck. If asked, you would say that it was caused by the chill of someone opening the door, and not caused by your unbearable attraction to him.

When the drinks were placed on the bar in front of you, Rosmerta scurried off to attend to someone else. You picked up the glass that was half filled with the amber liquid, feeling intense victory and satisfaction flowing through you. In a predictable pattern, you and Fred gently clinked your glasses together.

But rather than making a congratulatory toast in celebration of getting away with the lies, you grinned widely at him as you said this:

“You’re a menace to society, Fred Weasley.”

“You love it.” He replied easily, giving you a cheeky wink as he tossed back the liquid in one clean gulp. He winced slightly and sucked in a breath sharply through his teeth. But it was clearly not his first time drinking, and you had to guess that Bill was the one responsible for that.

Wanting to match him, you did the same - you tipped the glass back, letting all of the liquid slide past your lips and down your throat in one go. It burnt sharply in a way that you absolutely weren’t expecting, and you began coughing and sputtering, giving away your amateur nature in one glance. It was lucky that Rosmerta wasn’t looking. Fred rubbed your back soothingly, though he did take a moment to laugh at you.

“Burns, doesn’t it?” He chuckled.

“You c-could’ve warned me.”

…

A short while later, the burn of the alcohol was certainly no longer a concern for you. You supposed that was part of the point - if booze made you drunk and detached from yourself, they didn’t have to make it taste good. Because after a while, you just didn’t taste it.

You and Fred were three rounds deep, and even though he was matching you drink for drink, he was far more composed than you were. He hardly seemed drunk at all, other than the cute way he giggled at your jokes. Perhaps it was because of his height, or his Quidditch playing muscles, but he was handling his alcohol surprisingly well.

You, on the other hand - you were properly sloshed.

You had shed most of your winter clothing and spread the pieces haphazardly around the table that Fred had sat the two of you at. And you were currently trying to balance one of the empty shot glasses on your forehead - just to prove that you could, while Fred watched on in amusement.

Of course, he was partially amused by your drunken antics, and partially watching your cleavage threaten to burst out of your tight, V neck tee shirt as you arched your back furiously, trying to keep the glass balanced there. Since you had shed off your jacket and thick jumper, this was what you were left in, along with your tight jeans and boots - and Fred found that he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

“See! Told you I could do it!” You cheered, proud of yourself as you finally reached up and took the glass down, and then moved back to sit in your chair in front of Fred.

He couldn’t help but to smile at you. Honestly, he would never doubt you in anything you set your mind to. If you said that you could walk up walls or make Snape dance a jig, he would simply wait to watch it happen.

As he watched your proud smile and the way that the slightly drunken confidence caused you to sit up a bit taller, seeing the light from the fireplace gently kiss your skin - he was reminded of why he had brought you here in the first place. He let the alcohol in his own system give him courage (something that had been built into the plan) and he reached across the table, grabbing your hand gently with both of his.

The suddenly serious look that befell Fred’s face surprised you. That sense of surprise only grew when he took hold of your hand. He had more than captured your attention as he began to speak.

“Y/N, there’s something I really need to tell you.” Fred announced, his voice taking on a very rare serious quality.

It was something you had only heard from him when he talked about the possible ways to fund his joke shop or when you had fallen off a broom playing Quidditch at the Burrow and he had been worried about you being hurt. You nodded, stunned into silence, wondering if this meant bad news coming, eager for him to continue.

“Y/N, darling, you truly are the most amazing thing in my life.” He said, giving a small smile. Hearing this made your stomach tingle - it made the clasp of his hands around yours feel warmer. “You are so utterly brilliant. And you’re funny, and you’re the only girl I know who actually laughs at the stupid pranks I pull. I absolutely love spending time with you. I genuinely can’t imagine my life without you. So much so, that-”

“Hello, sweet thing.”

Fred’s words were disrupted by a deep voice, someone behind you who grumbled out these words and then let out a low whistle.

It took you a moment to realise that it was even directed at you. But when Fred’s face switched from that sweet smile to a harsh glare - a look that was rare for him, you followed his intense gaze over your shoulder to see what he was looking at.

It was a group of three men, much older than you, greasy-haired, wearing dark cloaks - staring at you like a pack of coyotes would stare at a hunk of fresh meat. Their gaze immediately made you feel naked, and though you were blazen hot, between the Fire Whiskey coursing through your system and the heat of the fireplace licking at you nearby, you had the urge to grab your jumper and pull it on over your head simply so that they would stop looking.

“Now what is a pretty thing like you doing in this dirty old pub?” One of the men asked, his voice feeling filthy in your ears and causing your spine to curl with disgust and something that you would hesitate to admit was fear. “Surely you must be lost, sweet thing. Need someone to show you the way home, then?”

You quickly jumped out of your chair and moved around the table to Fred’s side, where he had risen and easily swept you into his side with an arm around your shoulders. In a moment, you felt safer under his protective touch as he continued to glare at the men.

“Bugger off, then!” Fred ordered sharply.

“Oh, ‘bugger off’,” One of the others mocked Fred’s words in a whiny tone - clearly they didn’t take him seriously because he was obviously younger, even if he was quite tall for his age.

“What are you, her little boyfriend?” Another one of them joked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” Fred stated confidently, tossing in the obvious lie. “And I can tell you that brushing your teeth is one of the first requirements to getting a woman of this calibre,”

You resisted the urge to laugh at how his statement made their faces immediately meek and embarrassed.

“Well, if she wants a real man, that’s up to her to decide.” The man said gruffly. “Innit, princess?”

When he tossed out the nickname, you felt bile curl in your stomach, and it took you only a second to move when Fred uttered his next words to you.

“Grab your coat. We’re leaving.”

You scrambled around the table to get your jumper, mittens, hat, scarf, and your coat. As you were reaching across to one of the chairs to grab the last item, one of the men actually had the audacity to grab your wrist, stopping you from pulling back with the item in hand.

“If the girl wants to stay and have fun, that’s her choice.” He grumbled.

You wanted to tout that no, your idea of fun wasn’t hanging around men like this, but your voice was shrunken down into your throat with fear.

His grip around you was stiff and painful, and you immediately looked to Fred - whose jaw was set with a seething anger that you had only seen in him once before (when Malfoy had dared to insult Ginny right in front of him). He reached one hand into his pocket and leaned on the table with the other hand.

The man still didn’t let go of you, and you wondered if Fred’s hand was sitting on his wand in his pocket.

“Listen, bud, I don’t speak troll, so I’ll say this very slowly for you,” Fred announced, his voice dark with anger. “Let. Her. Go.”

The man immediately became outraged at being called a troll, and he moved his hand off your wrist, curling it into a hefty fist that he moved to swing at Fred’s head.

Fred ducked out of the way seamlessly, and you pulled your coat into the pile of clothes at your chest as Fred’s hand came out of his pocket with a lump of something black that looked almost like ordinary coal. He tossed it down to the floor and it exploded into a cloud of pure, thick darkness. Before you could truly comprehend what was going on, Fred’s comforting arm was around your shoulders, guiding you back out the back door of the pub.

You were thankful to be surrounded by cool air, the anxiety unwinding around you as Fred guided you away from the scene.

“Freddie, that was amazing!” You gasped, more than happy to praise him for saving you from those creeps.

You trudged along through the snow, incredibly chilly now that the wind kissed your bare arms and you held your jumper and your jacket rather than wearing them. But you were distracted from that feeling as you stared at the pub. You heard muffled coughs and voices loudly complaining, and as you circled around to the front, you saw the dark smoke overtaking any light that was inside, so much so that it began to pour out from the chimney and leak out of the cracks around the front door.

“What was that?” You had to ask, looking on in pure curiosity of the concoction that he had released into the pub.

“...new product George and I have been working on,” Fred admitted, his voice quivering with nerves slightly as he heard the coughs and sputters from inside. “Should probably adjust the size of the pellets, though. That was a bit… much.”

“Everything about you is ‘much’, Fred.” You said, still feeling that beautiful drunken warmth. It morphed into pure admiration toward him that you could hardly hold back. “That’s what makes you great.”

Fred chuckled at this.

He helped you get dressed back in your warm clothes, and the two of you walked back to the castle through that secret tunnel once again. He never quite built up the courage to get back to that topic he had so badly wanted to discuss - the entire reason he had taken you to Hogsmeade in the first place. But he basked in the simple joys of the night as the two of you talked in the Gryffindor common room and eventually, you fell asleep cuddled up to his chest while lounging on a couch in front of the fire.

…

Now, all these years later, curled up on the couch with him much like you had been that night - you finally realised what he had been trying to say.

“Oh my god.” You gasped quietly, opening your eyes and sitting stark upright.

Fred was surprised by this, seeing as he thought that you were starting to fall asleep on his chest. He had been sitting there quietly, mentally debating if he should levitate you to bed or risk the neck cramps of sleeping upright on the couch himself.

“What?” He asked quietly, feeling entirely clueless.

“Oh. My. God!” You screamed, jumping off the couch and pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“What? What?!” He asked, the word growing in volume and sense of alarm in his mouth the longer you went without telling him what was wrong.

“That day - that day-” You were struggling to gather your thoughts into words, a drunken slur still slightly evident on your tongue. Though the anxiety and panic that had suddenly set in had woken up quite a few of your senses.

“What? What day?” Fred parroted back, even more confused.

“That day.” You repeated, pressing emphasis on the word. “That time, back in sixth year, when we snuck out to Hogsmeade.”

A look of dawning came across Fred’s features, and he became more sullen than you had ever seen him. It was something that punched you sharply in the chest as the realisation hit you even harder now.

You had been so stupid. How could you not have known it back then?

“You… you were gonna confess your feelings to me.” You said quietly, almost afraid to speak the words aloud.

Perhaps he could have saved himself some pain if he lied, but he saw no good sense in denying it.

“Yes.” He said quietly, unshed tears scraping the inside of his throat.

“What-?” Now it was your turn to gape with confusion. “Was that the only time? Why then?”

“That certainly was not the only bloody time.” Fred chuckled, the laughter sounding heavy and dark in his throat rather than joyous and light as it usually did coming from him. “I tried about a million other times before then - at the Quidditch World Cup, before we ran into your cousins who just so desperately needed your attention. On the train that year, before Katie burst in and stole you away to chat on about what a great summer you had. I thought perhaps you’d get the bloody point when I asked you to be my date to the Yule Ball.”

It felt as though an icy shard was shoved right through your heart.

You had been so stupid.

“I - I thought you asked me to go as friends.” You told him, entirely honest about your viewpoint.

“Well that just makes me feel like the biggest arse in existence.” Fred shrugged.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You barked out, feeling an intense frustration rush over you.

You felt indignant, annoyed. You felt like something had been stolen from you - information, time that you should have spent with Fred as your boyfriend rather than the time you had spent simply wishing he was.

Fred scoffed at this, clearly hurt.

“Well, Y/N, at a certain point, I lost my balls!” He shouted back. That was a harsh thing to imagine - Fred Weasley losing the courage to take a risk. “I thought that after all the damn interruptions, the universe just didn’t want you to know that I’m hopeless bleedin’ in love with you.”

Your throat clenched up when he said it in the present tense - said like he still had those feelings for you. You wanted so badly to say it back, but your voice was caught in your throat for a harsh moment. It caused a pitiable silence over the room that made him rush to continue.

“Honestly, I thought - I thought it might be different after you left.”

He said quietly, his voice breaking around the words slightly.

“I thought that not seeing you every day… that I might be able to forget how I felt. But it only got worse. I thought about you every single day, and I missed you so badly. And now that you’re standing here in front of me - now, you’re not just some girl I fancied in school, now… you have turned into this magnificent woman that I love. And it would be my biggest regret if you didn’t know that.”

Fred confessed, his words so passionate that it caused tingles down your spine, and goosebumps across your arms.

“But you’re probably so drunk that you won’t remember this in the morning, and there’s probably some French arsehole named Pierre waiting for you-”

“There’s no one else.” You quickly blurted out, suddenly finding your voice.

Your body finally caught up to your mind, bursting with the urge for him to know this.

“It’s always been you, Fred Weasley.” You announced, your words slicing through the air like a diamond cutting through glass.

His eyes lit up and this, and he stared at you with the slightest bit of hope dancing across his features as he waited, holding his breath for you to possibly confirm the thing he had been dreaming about for years.

“And I certainly won’t forget this. No booze or potion - nothing could make me forget you saying the words I have always wanted to hear.”

You reached out and took a tight grip on the front of his shirt, pulling him toward you with force - you slammed your lips into his, finally doing the thing you had been dreaming of since you were a teenager. He let out a moan as you kissed him with as much intense passion as he had put into his words. Right as his tongue snaked toward your lips, you pulled back for a breath, and simply for good measure:

“I love you, Fred.” You breathed out.

“Oh, thank Merlin.”

#sundrop writes #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic

269 notes · View notes