#I can't believe i spent time on this instead of working

[purpleqilinwrites]

first step.

a/n: i can't get chilchuck and his wife out of my head!!!

fandom: dungeon meshi

pairing: chilchuck tims / his wife

genre: angst

info: told from the perspective of the wife; she is named (junnimay); takes place pre-canon

warnings: might not be canon-compliant

synopsis: everything in the house had a memory, but memory wasn't enough for her to stay.

word count: 2.2k

Chilchuck Tims / Chilchuck's Wife

It was supposed to be easier than pulling out a tooth. Instead, Junnimay found herself dragging her feet about the house as she took stock of all her belongings one last time before she went to bed.

Tomorrow, she would be leaving this house where she had spent almost half her life and the entirety of her adult years. This house where her daughters grew up and where her youngest was born a week late, coaxed out only by a long and complicated spell cast by a kind gnome living two houses down who happened to be a retired midwife.

This house where she once felt she had made a home.

Fler was the first of the girls to move out, wanting to live closer to the heart of the city where she was only a short walk away from the best clothiers in Kahka Brud and where she had better chances of meeting someone to marry. Mei followed suit half a year after, her hands hidden behind her back as she approached Junnimay one evening to announce the news that she had been given a room at a lodge owned by the Half-foot Union as a perk of the contract she accepted. Puck roomed with Mei for a brief period when she was employed by a wealthy tall-man family as a dog walker, before she decided to hop on a caravan with an elf she had befriended during that time.

With her daughters having places of their own to call home and Chilchuck being away on dungeon expeditions for years on end, there was nothing more than memory that kept her where she was. This house had served its purpose in her life, and she believed that it was a good time to move on from it. Even if she hadn't thought too hard about what to do next, moving out of this house and taking Fler up on her offer to live together seemed to be the right first step.

Most of the shelves in the house were bare even before Junnimay started the process of packing up about a week ago. Mei and Fler took the bulk of their belongings with them when they moved out. Junnimay stored the things they left behind in the basement, where she had marked out one set of shelves for Mei and two for Fler. Puck didn't have the luxury of space that her older sisters had, taking only what could fit in one carrying pouch and one trunk that was comically large in comparison to her then newly ten-year-old self. The rest of Puck's belongings were moved to the set of shelves in the basement that Junnimay had set apart for her.

Besides several wooden chests of lock-picking tools, two cupboards of various bottles of alcohol and the odd item of clothing that cropped up here and there, there wasn't much else in the house that belonged to Chilchuck. It made cleaning up easy when she first did her rounds in preparation to move out, putting anything that belonged to one of her girls onto their respective shelves in the basement. If she found anything that belonged to Chilchuck, she would stuff it into any bare spots in the lowest sections of the cupboards of alcohol where he also left things that he didn't know where else to place.

Before dawn broke, Junnimay was already awake. Despite having tossed and turned persistently before sleep finally came over her, she surprised herself with how easily she emerged from beneath the blankets and rose from the bed.

Having changed out of her nightclothes and gotten herself ready for work, she checked every corner of the house as if she were an inner city guard on night patrol, making sure that everything was as she left it the night before. When she was satisfied, she tied on her cloak and laced up her boots and left for the bakery for a short morning shift.

Mei was already inside the house when she came back, hunched over an open trunk as she loaded in her mother's books that had been removed from the makeshift shelves around the alcove that overlooked the sea.

That was her favourite part of the house for the longest time. Looking at it now and seeing it devoid of the signs that she had just been lounging there with a new novel and a cup of honeyed milk made her feel as though someone had reached into her chest to pinch at her heart.

("You drink more milk than the girls," Chilchuck said, all smiles and good humour as he finally emerged from the girls' bedroom after tucking them in. Junnimay laughed, leaning into his labour-roughened palm when he tucked himself into her side and smoothed his hand over her cheek. "All that milk and you've never been taller than me."

"Well, it'd be a waste if I drank honey straight from the pot, wouldn't it?")

There was a reason that she left the alcove as the last part of the house to gather her belongings from.

"I'm back," Junnimay said, softly so as not to startle her daughter who was currently preoccupied with helping her pack up. "Thank you for your help."

Mei continued her work, not looking up in order to keep her concentration. "I'm about half-done here," Mei said. "Fler's upstairs, and Puck's on her way with the wagon and the horses."

Since her books and her clothes were being taken care of, Junnimay ventured into the basement to bring up a trunk she had brought from her parents' house all those years ago. She was hit with a sudden urge to open it up and poke around inside it when she tugged off the dust cover. Something about the weathered leather encasing trunk made her feel like she was a child waiting to open her birthday present again.

("What are you doing down here?"

Junnimay jumped from her seated position on the basement floor at the sound of Chilchuck's voice. She turned around to see him coming down the stairs and fixing her with a curious look.

"You got a secret pet in here or something?" he asked, scanning the area around her. She let out a sound that was between a scoff and a chuckle, standing up and dusting off her now-wrinkled dress.

"The girls would be here too if we did have a secret dog to hide from you," she said, smiling.)

Junnimay was caressing the time-worn grooves on the latch that spelled out her mother's name when Fler shouted for her from upstairs. It didn't sound as though Fler was hurt, but she still rushed towards where she thought Fler might be when she called just in case something was wrong.

"Mama, do you...?"

Fler was standing in front of one of Chilchuck's cupboards where he kept his alcohol, her back facing her mother as her voice trailed off. Hearing footsteps behind her, Fler turned around to face Junnimay, clutching something to her chest that looked very familiar.

It was a pot of honey from her hometown.

("Jun," came Chilchuck's voice from directly in front of her. "You can open your eyes now."

When she did, she was greeted with the rare sight of her fiancé with his cheeks pink and his ears pinker as he held out a painted pot of something to her. Junnimay reached out, and he all but shoved the pot into her hands. Fumbling a little with the pot that weighed much more than it looked, Chilchuck was quick to latch his hands onto the decorative indents so that neither of them wouldn't drop it.

"Chil, is this what I think it is?" she asked, even if she already knew what was inside the pot from the sweet, sweet aroma wafting through the cloth covering the mouth of the pot, bouncing on her heels.

Chilchuck nodded, his eyes darting about awkwardly before he cleared his throat. "As promised, only the best," he said, his words coming out in an ambiguous string with how he spoke without moving his lips much. "Just for you.")

"You told us Papa got this for you a long time ago! Do you remember?" Fler was trying to gesture excitedly at the same time as she held the large piece of stoneware in her arms, coming close to dropping it more than once. "You told us—"

Junnimay wanted to answer the question, but her ability to speak failed her.

She had long since emptied the contents of the pot, being overly generous with the spoonfuls she took from it when she wanted to sweeten her milk. The girls, too, mimicked her large portions when they took turns scooping out honey for their bread in the mornings.

Chilchuck had once said something about him not being made out of gold coins, after he was drawn into the kitchen by the smell of cured meat made in the style of their shared hometown cooking in rendered lard. He had caught sight of Puck with honey smeared across almost her entire face and walked over to her to wipe it off. Puck's bowl was more honey than bread, which prompted him to remind his family that he was not, in fact, made of gold.

Junnimay could see herself laughing as she flipped over the slices of meat in the pan, knowing that Chilchuck was censoring himself since he was in front of their daughters who were too young to be spitting out expletives.

"... Of course I remember," Junnimay said, putting on a smile and inwardly cursing at herself for doing so. "I asked for a lot of honey, so he bought some for me." There was no point in putting on a smile. There was no point in pretending.

What was she pretending for?

Fler coiled her arms tighter around the pot, squeezing. Junnimay could tell that there was something she wanted to say but she didn't know how to say it. She could see it in the way Fler was staring at her face but not making eye contact, the way Fler was incessantly shifting her weight from one foot to the other and then back again.

"Why did you stop asking Papa for things?"

When Fler finally spoke, Junnimay felt the question batter the breath out of her. She inhaled slowly, finding relief in the stretch of air filling up her lungs, thinking and thinking and wishing she had the answer.

Why did she stop asking Chilchuck for things? For help? For the time of day? Why—

"Asking someone who's not around is hard, isn't it?"

The words were bitter on her lips. She spoke the truth, though oversimplified for the sake of not having this difficult conversation on this day when she needed to be strong for herself. There would be a time for that in the future, but not now.

Fler's eyes misted over with the arrival of tears. Junnimay began to fret over if she had been too harsh, but Fler started nodding to show that she understood, a slow and measured nod at first before she repeatedly bobbed her head.

"... You know, sometimes, I can't remember what Papa looks like," Fler started with a wobble in her upper lip, turning away from Junnimay for a moment to return the empty pot of honey to the place where she found it. Junnimay met her at the open cupboard doors and drew her daughter into her embrace, squeezing. "I understand where you're coming from, Mama. But— I wish— I didn't have to miss Papa so much."

"I know how it hurts, little heart. But we still have each other," Junnimay whispered, starting to choke up from her own tears. She began rubbing circles into Fler's back, swaying and humming a lullaby with Fler in her arms the way she did with all her daughters when they were much younger. "We'll always have each other."

(This neighbourhood that Chilchuck had chosen was predominantly gnomes.

The vicinity was different from their hometown where everyone was a half-foot and everything was sized accordingly. Everything was built a little larger than they were used to. Junnimay supposed it suited her husband, since he was the tallest half-foot she knew.

Gnomes weren't much taller than half-foots, so she supposed that having to reach a little further to place things on the upper shelves was something she could learn to live with. She was more relieved that Mei and Fler could grow up in an area where she need not worry about her comparatively smaller daughters getting trampled by the much larger tall-man or kobold children who didn't know better.

Away from the centre of Kahka Brud which boasted architecture quite heavily in favour of the taller races, this gnome community along a cliff that looked out on the sea was similar enough to the village they grew up in. It was the perfect place to build a home away from home.

Chilchuck stopped at the shortest house in the row of fourteen that lined the edge of the cliff.

"This is it," he said, a grin on his face so wide that his skin threatened to split. "Our new home.")

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi scenarios #delicious in dungeon scenarios #chilchuck tims #chilchuck's wife #chilchuck tims x his wife #chilchuck tims x chilchuck's wife #fic #angst #kaija writes #kaija writes: dungeon meshi #i know i said i'm going to write a meijack fic next the last time #but this fic wouldn't leave me alone #i'm scratching at the bars of my enclosure thinking about chilchuck and his wife #do you know that thing they say #that when a writer is busy all the fic ideas and motivation to write will come and smother them? #that's me i'm writer meme writer #(screaming) #no regrets only fic

[lurking-loaf]

The two Suns I drew during @daycarefriendpickup's Magma this past weekend. This was my first time doing an event like this and it would not have been possible without the encouragement of the faz-errific @littlechinaaru and @lil-lemon-snails. The second picture is my part of the collaboration I did with the two on Sunday (you can see the hands they drew on the left and right respectively). Check out the official posts by the dfpu tumblr to see both drawings in full.

#loaf art #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sundrop #dca fandom #that first Sun is tiny and was a pain to draw #biblically accurate dca's are not meant to be depicted on such a small scale and I would not recommend you try it #I can't believe I spent 12 HOURS on the collab-slow drawing strikes again ;_; I started working on it and just kept going nonstop all night #ngl it got kinda dicey those last few hours but hey it got finished in time to get posted to the dfpu tumblr #thanks Snails and Fire for spending your free time drawing with me instead of sleeping you're both swell and I had a great time #also thanks to the server in general you folks are all very supportive #edit: fughhhgh I just noticed I forgot to draw in several details why didn't I notice this sooner

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

No More Sad Songs for Mr Norris - LN

Summary: Lando exposes his sunshine girlfriend on stream who might just be the one to change his top 5 for his Spotify wrapped 2024 for some happier songs.

Lando doesn't think of himself as an especially sad person, he has his moments. His days where things feel harder and after his failed attempt at a relationship he spent a lot of 2023 thinking that focusing on racing is the only way to really enjoy the year in any way despite the obvious.

But the Summer break changed things when he met y/n.

Oh y/n.

He'd never been such a romantic to believe that love at first sight exists. Especially when he'd met her via Max during a visit home. She worked at the the karting track they were using for the video and honestly, he didn't think he'd ever see her again.

Her whole aura was something magical, a beaming ball of sunshine without even having to smile.

Admittedly, he didn't make a move in that moment. A tug in his chest told him even if he did find the courage to speak to a woman who was obviously out of even his league, she had to be in a relationship.

So he let his wingman handle getting the two together. Still didn't happen that day. Instead Max suggested the karting spot for Lando to test out his own LNkart as he did as often as possible. Which wasn't as often as he'd like.

After a weak performance in Monza from the McLaren team. He flew over and got to the karting track where Max agreed to be simply as moral support.

Though eventually after some awkward conversation that was earning more confusion from y/n than endearment. Max dropped the bombshell and left the two of them to talk, or more specifically for Lando to grow some balls and ask the poor girl on a date rather than stuttering and stumbling through irrelevant conversation.

Things weren't perfect for the first month or so but now Lando is on the winter break, he's invited her to join him in Monaco for a few weeks since he'll be going back over to England for the holidays anyway.

She did attend a couple of the race weekends, dodging the ones his family were in attendance for aside from Abu Dhabi because she was nervous about meeting Adam and Cisca. After all it would be hard not to be nervous about it. But the parents loved her and they thought the fact that she lived and worked in England was amazing, because he meant Lando might be home even more often. Not that he isn't home a lot, but they do miss him being so close ever since he moved.

Despite there not being much effort put into keeping their young relationship secret. No one had clocked onto his relationship status change. Or if they did, no one had made the effort to comment on it and given the explosive reaction to his ex from his fans, making hate pages just because she was his girlfriend.

With his time off, he's got back into streaming and he's already sharing his Spotify wrapped proving that actually he's had quite a year of sad songs.

He's streaming while y/n is in the other room occupying herself with Netflix and the McLaren car lego set that Lando had left her with as if she was a toddler needing something to keep her attention in his absence. Of course it worked and she has been working her way through building it.

It's during his music break that Lando remembers how long he'd left y/n on her own and mutes his mic.

"Baby?" Lando calls out shifting his headphones and with a smashing sound, he regrets having remembered her out there on her own.

"Son of a bitch! Fucking bastard." Y/n's voice exclaims before soft padding footsteps near the room and he can't help smiling at her as she appears at the doorway. "You called?"

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Lando laughs then holding his hand out to her which makes her hesitate. He might not put much thought into the lack of public knowledge of the relationship but she certainly did. "It's ok."

Y/n smiles stepping into the frame of the camera and immediately in his ears Filly and Angry Ginge are questioning who the chat are exploding about.

"Say hi to the boys. They've been arguing." Lando states making her break into that sunny smile that he has to reflect the expression of.

"Hi guys." Y/n greets into the mic making the two men explode questioning who the hell that is since they weren't aware of any woman in Lando's life either. "I'm y/n."

"They want to know what you're doing here and-hey behave. This is my girlfriend, don't talk about her like that."

"I've found her Instagram. Well hello there, y/n. Lando I'm going to steal your girl." Filly declares jokingly while Lando glares and y/n frowns in confusion since she can't hear the other man.

"What'd he say?"

"Nothing. He's just being a twat." Lando smiles then looking up at her. "I can see you want to get back to the lego that I fucked up. When I finish up here I'll come help."

Y/n smiles leaning down and kissing him softly with a mumbled "ok, thank you" before she moves out with Lando sliding his chair to follow her out of frame and smacking her ass.

"Lando!" She gasps as he shoots himself back into frame knowing she won't attack on camera.

"What?" He shoots back innocently before he grins while she disappears from the room making him focus back on the stream.

He possibly should've expected that she might come back for revenge so when a cushion is thrown with full force knocking his headphones.

"Ah baby!" Lando laughs loudly while trying to readjust his headphones. "So violent."

"I like this girl and I don't even know her. But y/n is already a favourite of mine. If she ever dumps you, let her know I'm available." AngryGinge states while Lando rolls his eyes.

"Are you bored, baby?" Lando smiles since he knows that she's probably given up on the Lego till he joins her. "Do you want to stay in here and watch?"

"Yes." Y/n nods bouncing a little since she's never got to be involved and watch him play on stream. Or even really in his set up on and of his games because usually when she's been in Monaco it's only been for short stints and Lando has focused on her being there over his video games or streaming.

"Hold on boys, I'm just getting y/n set up she wants to sit in and watch."

"Bro, you treat your girlfriend like a toddler. You left her with lego and now she's going to just watch you play." Filly laughs while Lando grins moving the cushioned chair closer.

"Whatever keeps her happy." Lando smiles while y/n curls up in the chair pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of them. "Are you ok there, baby?"

"Yeah. I'm good." She nods making him nod before he looks at her for a moment to make sure. "I'm good."

-

There's a pause where Lando ends up playing music and exposing his Spotify wrapped which makes y/n pout.

"Why are all the songs so sad, baby?" Y/n asks softly making him look at her and smile.

"I spent most of the year single."

"Oh right, well then I guess it's my job to improve it for 2024?"

"Yeah, I'm putting that all on you." Lando jokes while she grins at him and that's when he notices how tired she looks. "You can go to bed if you're tired, baby. You don't have to wait for me."

"No. I want to stay and watch." Y/n pouts then moving over. "Can I make a request?"

"Yes. Come here, free reign." Lando nods patting his lap making her shift up sitting on his lap before she puts Something In The Orange on. "Awww...this isn't a happy song."

"I know, I said I have to make your Spotify happy not mine." Y/n smiles then leaning back perfectly timed with the "when you place your head between my collar and jaw" line which makes Lando wrap an arm around her, moving to kissing her temple.

"Oh the chat is eating this up." Lando laughs while she hums clearly more tired than she just admitted. "Should I finish up on here and then we can call it a night?"

"Ok." She nods in defeat since choosing this song has really tugged her towards the realm of sleep and actually she's on the verge of being out cold. "But uhhh...ummm..."

Lando smiles being able to see her in the camera just completely begin to fall asleep.

"Mate, had your lass just passed out on you?" AngryGinge questions making Lando smile not wanting to laugh in fear of waking her up.

"I'm going to have to go boys. Put her to bed."

"Let he know, I'm rooting for her to make your Spotify happier because she's right it's depressing and if you got a girl like that. You better be happy about it." Filly comments in a moment of seriousness from him. "And let her know when she gets bored, I'm always a shoulder to cry on or a friend to turn to."

"Fuck off. Bye boys, this was fun." Lando laughs ending the stream and logging off the game.

Lando knows that actually it'd be impossible for his music to not take on a happier element purely because his girlfriend is the embodiment of sunshine. For him to listen to depressing music while in a relationship with her, it feels criminal to even think about being sad when he's got someone like her in his life.

"I love you." Lando whispers as she stirs from her sleep when he shifts her so he can carry her.

"I love you too." She murmurs hardly audible but he catches the words with a grin.

He's definitely happier going into 2024 than he was coming into 2023.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando #norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #ln4 one shot #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #mclaren #mclaren f1 #mclaren formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.

masterlist.

You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.

You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.

Dear ________,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.

I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.

Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.

Sincerely,

[First Name] [Last Name].

You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.

“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”

Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.

Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”

Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”

Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”

“It's Max.”

You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”

That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.

The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.

“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”

That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”

Oh.

He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure you don't need help?”

You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.

You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.

It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.

What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.

You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.

You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.

“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”

You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.

Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”

Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.

“You're taking good care of me.”

His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.

“Aren't I always?”

You are paid to take good care of him after all.

“Always.”

You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.

You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophie!

You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.

Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.

“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”

“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.

“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.

Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.

But then, she left. Now what?

“I want to tell you something.”

You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.

“It is in my will that if I die—”

“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.

“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”

“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”

“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.

Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?

Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.

“Have you told Max?”

The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.

“No.”

“He wouldn't be happy with this.”

You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.

While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.

Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.

"No, stay."

Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."

You did not know why you believed him.

2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.

2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.

2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.

“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."

"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"

It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.

"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."

“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”

Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.

“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”

Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.

“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”

Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.

You get a text from Max an hour later.

him: i feel like shit

him: thanks for the advil and the soup

him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me

Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.

#max verstappen #formula one #formula 1 #manager!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv33

[shiplessoceans]

Good Omens S2 Episode 6 confession scene speculation:

Aziraphale didn't respond to the love confession from Crowley because he didn't realise it was one until Crowley mentioned the Nightingale and kissed him.

Allow me to explain.

---

Aziraphale interrupted Crowley to give him the news from Metatron, so when Crowley starts his spiel:

"We've been together a long time, I could always rely on you...we're a group....we've spent our existence pretending we aren't...if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together then we can...we don't need heaven/hell they're toxic...you and me whatya say?"

Aziraphale interprets everything Crowley is saying as his rebuttal to the 'good news', not a separate declaration of his feelings.

What Aziraphale just told him shaped Crowley's confession, instead of finally telling Aziraphale how he feels about him, he's now backed into a corner and trying to change Aziraphales mind. Offering to run off with him as the alternative to the Metatron's offer.

The repetition of the phrase: "go off together" from the bandstand fight in season one feels very intentional here. It would be easy for Aziraphale to think 'this is just Crowley's response when the divine plan interferes, he always wants to run away'.

Aziraphale believes that he just needs to make Crowley understand the situation and opportunity that this is and everything will be alright:

"Come with me! To heaven, I can run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference!"

Crowley is looking defeated already, in his mind he's bared his soul and Aziraphale is a brick wall. So if he can't tempt the angel into staying with the love he has for him (which Crowley thinks he's declared but he really hasn't), he'll get him to change his mind by evoking something else he loves:

"You can't leave this bookshop."

Aziraphale scoffs fondly. 'Silly demon, you were just suggesting we run off together and abandon it only a moment ago!' He thinks Crowley is trying to 'work' him here and the old serpent might even be selflessly trying to spare the angel the loss of his beloved bookshop in order to restore Crowley and help the world, which would be just like him to be so covertly protective. So Aziraphale reassures him, a bookshop doesn't matter to him as much as Crowley and the world. It's just a collection of objects really. Humanity is more important. Crowley is far more important.

"Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever."

Crowley is crushed. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the two of them. So he covers his sadness with his glasses, walls back up, and he tries to leave.

Aziraphale is baffled. He just reassured Crowley that he was alright with change if it means things could be better. Why is Crowley leaving? Is he worried that they won't spend time together anymore? That he won't have time for his friend as a supreme archangel?

"Crowley come back!....we can be together, angels!...I need you!"

Crowley can't even look at him in that moment. Why would Aziraphale say that? The two of them together only if he accepts heaven again? Conditional love? That's not fair. It hurts.

Aziraphale meanwhile is hurt by Crowley's turning away, his silence and a bit incensed at what he perceives as ingratitude. Aziraphale didn't really want to go back to heaven, but he'd do it if it meant Crowley could be happy and safe and Crowley doesn't seem to appreciate that:

"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

Crowley went through the fall. He asked the questions. Did his best to protect humanity and it has brought him nothing but suffering. He's well aware what's on offer. He's seen heavens cruelty and capriciousness firsthand and been burned by it repeatedly. How can Aziraphale choose them over him and still think everything will work out?

"I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do."

Crowley loves Aziraphale's big foolish optimism and kind heart and he thinks it's the very thing taking the angel away from him. This isn't how it was supposed to go. It's all slipping away from him.

"Listen. You hear that?"

Aziraphale can't even keep up at this point.

This is what comes of thousands of years of 'not talking about it' and living under threat of holy retribution if they are discovered. They're talking past each other, having two different conversations. Obfuscation and code has become their communication medium by necessity and it's failing them.

It's frustrating Aziraphale that he can't get a grip on this conversation:

"I don't hear anything!"

And Crowley drops the bomb.

"That's the point. No Nightingale's."

Oh. Suddenly we're on the same page. You can see from Aziraphale's face that he understands to what Crowley's referring. The Nightingale in Berkely square. Angels dining at the Ritz...

"You idiot! We could have been... us."

Crowley's talking about the big unspoken thing between them. Their relationship, thousands of years of dancing around each other like binary stars gravitationally and inexorably drawn together over and over. The thing Aziraphale was beginning to be bold about, (dancing notwithstanding) before Metatron came along and distracted him.

And it seems to Aziraphale that gut-wrenchingly, Crowley is finally acknowledging their mutual love only to point out that it's gone. Lost. They could have finally been together, an us, but Aziraphale ruined it because he's an 'idiot'.

After being quietly in love with Crowley for years, for Aziraphale to have his offer to return to heaven together and his unspoken love rejected in one fell swoop is devastating.

Overcome, he begins to cry and turns away, not wanting Crowley to see how hurt he is.

Crowley for his part is desperate. He has to do something. Maybe Aziraphale doesn't understand what Crowley is offering him! One fabulous kiss and va-voom right?

In a final desperate act, he kisses Aziraphale. Tries for passionate. Tries to show him that he loves him and show him what they could be because his words clearly aren't working.

Aziraphale is shocked and angry. He wants to kiss Crowley of course. But not like this. Not as a taunt. Crowley just told him their chance is over so what else could this be but a final insult. A kiss to punish the angel. It's a cruelty he didn't believe Crowley capable of.

And despite how mean it is. It's also what Aziraphale has wanted for so long he can't help but melt into it for a brief moment. Allow himself to feel what it would have been like to be that close before losing it forever.

Then Crowley lets go and Aziraphale breaks away on a sob, feeling wounded. Hurt beyond words that Crowley would use his feelings against him like this, gutted to be losing the man he loves and not understanding why.

The worst part is that Aziraphale doesn't have it in him to hate Crowley, even if he thinks the kiss was a cruel gesture. He still loves him. So he gathers himself and does what Aziraphale does when someone hurts him.

He forgives.

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for rejecting my attempt to restore you and make you happy, I forgive you for rejecting God and heaven yet again, I forgive you for acknowledging our love and then rejecting it. I forgive you for kissing me, giving me a fleeting glimpse of what we could have been to each other. I love you and I forgive you all that.

Crowley is done. Breath knocked out of him on a last sigh. He tried. And the Angel forgave him yet again for something he never asked or wanted forgiveness for. He doesn't want to be penitent for loving Aziraphale. Shouldn't have to apologise or regret wanting them to be together.

"Don't bother."

Aziraphale looks surprised Crowley is leaving because he genuinely is. He can't understand how it's all gone so horribly wrong. He gasps, shocked and can't even call out to him to stop, come back.

He cries, touches his lips where Crowley had kissed him. Tries to gather himself and barely has 10 seconds before Metatron is back.

At the end of that scene:

Crowley thinks he confessed his love and Aziraphale chose heaven over him because he didn't want to stop being a demon.

Aziraphale thinks Crowley rejected heaven, then rejected Aziraphale and threw their love back in his face as a final unkindness.

Aziraphale leaves and goes to heaven anyway because in his mind he's already lost Crowley and there is nothing left to stay for. If he doesn't have Crowley he needs a new purpose and it's going to be saving the world. He'll convince himself of it. And he'll push that broken heart down and the pain will fade if he just smiles through it. It will be enough, to make heaven better. It has to be. Maybe if he proves that he can make a difference Crowley might see the error of his ways and speak to him again? Surely. Hopefully.

---

Both of them are hurt and confused and lost and oh dear hell I really feel for them.

#good omens meta #good omens 2 meta #good omens s2e6 #gos2 spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens 2 analysis #gos2 meta #ineffable #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #good omens spoilers #gos2

[iamadequate1]

OK, this common refrain:

Just move on! You OFMD fans are so annoying!

Ridiculous.

What is happening with OFMD right now is UNPRECEDENTED. This isn't a cute little cult show: this is a juggernaut for Max. It's its #1 original show right now (using the metrics available right now since Max hides numbers). It's 30x in demand than the average streaming show. It was Peabody nominated. Max spent significant money on a FYC campaign for it. Its audience grew between S1 and S2, and S1 was already beating off Marvel and Star Wars shows on the charts. It can pull thousands of fans into conventions. It had a Times Square billboard just in October. Most of Max' social media interaction is from OFMD. If reports are to be believed, the S3 scripts were readied and they were already scheduling time for filming, releasing announcements, and interviews. It has succeeded in every metric a show can be measured in, and passed these expectations beyond any studio's dreams.

But it was derailed last minute by a tantruming CEO, a CEO whose incompetence is bleeding hundreds of millions out of the company and is destroying the reputation of and industry confidence in the company. The company stock has fallen over 6% since the OFMD announcement two days ago (not the sole factor but one of the biggest factors). If a show like OFMD cannot succeed at Max, no show can succeed at Max. If Max cannot support this show, it cannot support being a streaming service at all.

Is there a show cancellation that has ever compared to this?

This announcement is not because a fringe minority in and outside the fandom thought S2 was "bad", or that some people didn't like certain plot points of S2 (no hiding it here that I'm not a fan of certain fanons, though I enjoy all characters). Taika Waititi was excited and onboard; he wasn't "bored" and decided to move on. They didn't cram the original ending into S2 just in case. There is still story to be told, and this series earned the right to be able to finish that story. Ed and Stede are still in the shaky beginnings of their relationship! They need to dance, have domestic moments, have affectionate moments, get married (what was the point of David Jenkins hyping matelotage at every step?)! How does our pirate community actually move on with their lives past the English encroachment (personified in Ricky)? This isn't a video game, and the story didn't end because they reached a "Get to The Revenge" checkpoint. What personal paths are our beloved crew members going to go on? There is still so much story, and we didn't have a clean break.

We're telling ourselves that fan campaigns have worked before. These examples, the shows were all deserving, but they were not the juggernauts that OFMD is. Firefly, for example, was 98th in Nielson ratings, and it was nowhere near the biggest audience for FOX shows. Imagine if FOX had randomly decided to cancel its top rated scripted show for the lulz. Would FOX have ever recovered or been able to court new talent? (ETA: 2002 FOX. 2024 FOX already can't court talent. A rather expensive spectacle show like 911 smoothly and immediately transitioning to another, more stable network is not why I'm here.)

The streaming competition is tight right now, and Max had a miracle in OFMD, all without even bothering to promote it. OFMD has a passionate audience. It has deeply resonated with thousands and thousands of people, and it is not silly to have emotions about creative projects because that is the entire point of creative projects. We have invested real time and money into this. We've created a community. We believe in David Jenkins and all involved, and these are real people we want to support because they brought joy into our lives. The respect and comradery this crew has with the fanbase is refreshing and rare. They revel in the fans' returned creativity and passion where most others have chosen to mock instead.

I am not going to just accept the whim of some random guy in a suit. I'm not just going to shrug and say "Got me there!" I'm not going to be ashamed of having passion, any excitement, any thrill at a unique work that is unapologetically sweet, joyful, and sincere and gives us the beautiful diversity we see in our lives. If this can happen to THIS SHOW, this juggernaut, there is no point in ever being invested in a new creative project again, and that is not a world that I'm willing to accept.

I am going to fight and keep fighting for as long as it takes. If this annoys you, learn how to use mute and block functions and don't expect me to change because it's your first day on the Internet. Why shouldn't we expect excellence in media we invest in? Why shouldn't we be angry that studios are trying to collapse into one with mergers and reduce all output to five IPs with cookie cutter releases? Why shouldn't we expect that a show that has met all expectations to be rewarded by the studio for the value it added? Why should we be expected to just shrug at every cruel decision like this (a decision that doesn't even make financial sense) and hand over our money to some passionless, generic alternative? Why should we just consume whatever terrible product the studios spit out at us instead of fighting for ones that deserve to thrive?

It is not hyperbole that this is a turning point in the industry. We just spent the summer with studios demanding AI be able to replace all pieces of the creative process unchecked, and now we have an absolutely unprecedented strike down of a creative and unique show at the top of the industry because there were a few more (entirely imaginary) pennies to be had. This is inexcusable.

This is a long haul situation. Zaslav blindsided us, so alternative streamers wouldn't have even been on the radar at the beginning of this week. David Jenkins and company also can't make comments on any possibilities we have since they have to keep working relationships in this industry and they need contracts finalized first.

There is always hope, no matter how slim.

Don't give up, and don't give in.

Remember to @renewasacrew

#our flag means death #ofmd #renew as a crew #save ofmd #renewasacrew #saveofmd #david jenkins #i just really like this show #no cut! just giant wall of text

[heartfullofleeches]

[brief mentions of non-consensual touching]

I kinda wanna flesh out yan cheater and "cheater" reader more. Fuel up the angst. I'm thinking high school sweethearts who promised to be each other's first as they went off to college. Yan sees the whole thing with reader with another person and goes to a friend for comfort. The friend sees this as an opportunity to tear the two apart as Yan was previously going to join their band instead of a straight shot to college. A few drinks down they're kissing the first person who makes eye contact with them at the party, forgetting all about their woes and promises - and skipping town without closure or a proper goodbye to their lover.

Couple years down the line and they're now a big shot - carrying little resemblance of the person they once were. Shows sold out in every venue and a different fan on their lap every night. They all have some feature that reminds Yan of their former flame which they muddle over to the very day their paths cross again.

Their latest tour leads them to a familiar place. A town where nothing ever happened and everything stayed the same. They learn their ex is still working hard for their degree and takes night shifts at a nearby gas station. The tension is thick from the moment they walk in. They didn't even want to be there, but it was the only station in close proximity. What do you even say to someone who's caused so much heart break after all this time?

"That'll be 21.10... Cash or credit?"

That's it.... After everything you put them through. After all those nights they spent crying over you - and craving your warmth in their bed. The future that you pictured together. The life you dream of in each other's arms. You tarnished what little hope they had - and that's all you could say to them...

"A "how've you been?" would've been nice...."

"I have nothing to say to the person who abandoned me. Can't even say that much since you hardly remind me of them."

Really classy from the one who caused this mess in the first place.

"Don't act like you're free of any guilt in this... I saw you with them that day... You seemed a lot more cozy with that stranger than you ever did with me."

"Stranger, what are you...." Your eyes dart around the room as the gears in your head click. Pulling out your phone, you fight back tears as you show them a picture of that stranger. "Is this who you're talking about?...."

Please say no....

They scoff. "So you do know who I'm talking about. You still together or did you run off with someone else same as you did me?"

The sadness and pain just... vanishes. All these years, you thought you had been the problem. Made to many promises. Loved then too much or too little. From what it seemed like now - they were the one who never loved you enough.

"That's my cousin....."

They didn't hear you - they couldn't. Couldnt acknowledge that maybe...

"What?"

"That's my fucking cousin, asshole."

Everything they ever believed was the painstaking truth - was a only a cruel misunderstanding.

"We hadn't seen each other's since we were kids. Their mom had just died... I tried calling you when I got home, but you weren't there. Did you seriously think I cheated on you? And you just ran away?..."

"I....you...." Were their everything. When they saw you that night the pressure of every problem weighting down on them finally snapped. They couldn't think rationally at that time - if only if they'd put the faith in you they always prided themself in having.

"You coward...." You throw their change across the counter, adding issult to injury as you point for the door.

"Get out of my store. Get out of my life."

"Y/n, wait..please."

"I said... GET OUT!"

The foundation of their new self crumbles. After your alleged betrayal they rebuilt themselves from the ground up as an overconfident, self serving individual, but like everything else to this point - it was all a lie. There were always those days they wondered "what if". What if they had stayed. What if they had tried to fix what had broken in your relationship. Knowing the truth, those fantasies return with vengeance. The truth would've came sooner and the wounds to mend would have been lesser. You'd talk over the miscommunication and they'd apologize fully by taking you out to your favorite restaurant. You'd start school together the upcoming fall. You'd kiss and make love and enjoy fleeting youth as one. There'd always be rough patches, but in the end you always had each other.

That's how things should have been.

They spiral - crawling to the closest bar to relinquish their pain the only way they knew how beyond finding someone new to bed. The thought of sleeping with anyone that wasn't you made them nearly lose the alcohol poisoning their system. Had you been dating since then? Had you given yourself to someone? Did they make you feel loved and saved - just as they should've

By the end of the night they wound up too drunk to even stand on their own feet. The bartender asked for a number to call to have someone pick them up. They gave the only number they could remember after all these years - and intoxicated.

The drive to their hotel room is quiet. You had nothing to say while they had the world - but none of it was anything you wanted to hear. You just wanted this night to be over so you could go back to forgetting they ever existed.

You help them into their room and give them some water from the sink. Despite everything they've done, you didn't have the heart to leave them like they did you.

"Drink. You need to flush out your system. You'll probably have a headache in the morning, but that's none of my concern."

".....how many people have you slept with, Y/n?"

You place the cup on the nightstand. "This isn't the type of conversation we should have right now."

"Have you been with anyone - or are you still waiting for that special person? I've done a lot of shit I'm not proud of, but at least they've given me experience. I can make your first the best. I can make love to you better than anyone. I already know you better than they do...."

Their hands creep around your waist, hugging your midsection same as they use to on school nights when their parents forbade guests - and you crawled through their window anyway. They always held you like you meant the universe to them. You still do.

Their lips gloss over your exposed stomach as your shirt crawls upwards, heavy tears staining your skin. "Just one night. That's all I need to prove myself to you. We were made for each other. Let's forget about the past for one night and pick up where we left off. A promise is still a promise - even if it's broken.

Their fingers dip below your waistband. You immediately shove them off you and to the floor. "Are you fucking insane?! You can't forget something like what you put me through. I've been so afraid of connecting with anyone because I'm scared they'd just run off like you did. I'm finally becoming me again- and I won't let you take that back from me. Don't call me."

The door slams as you storm out - reverberations their sole companion in their misery. This is the same thing they did to you. They deserve to be alone, to suffer - but they can't. It'll kill them. They can't live without you...and soon enough you won't be to live without them. You're soulmates, meant to be. They have power now - influence. They can support you however you need-

And destory everything that gets in the way of your happy ending.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere angst #yandere concept #yandere idea #Yandere cheater #yandere drabble

[mypoisonedvine]

medical play with Jonathan please 🥺🙏🥺 I want him to strap me to a table and experiment to see how many times I can cum

oh FUCK yes. i love medical kink aaaaa

warnings: SMUT 18+ only!!!, implied dark/dubcon, fingering, orgasm control

"This is all routine," he insisted as he finished putting on the latex glove," there's nothing to be nervous about."

You tried to believe him, but it's hard to feel secure when your ankles are up in stirrups. "I-I know, Dr. Crane," you sighed, "but I still am."

He offered a little smile, one obviously intended to lower your defenses. "I can't blame you," he admitted. "Just let me know if anything causes you discomfort, alright?"

You nodded, deciding it would be easier to look away than to watch him reach under the paper 'blanket' draped over your legs.

Fighting the urge to react, you forced yourself to stay still and simply scrunch up your face slightly as you felt his fingers press to your entrance. They spent longer than you expected on the outside, and you could see him looking down at you; you shuddered when you noticed in your peripheral the way he was looking down at you... it made you feel horrible exposed, even if you understood that a visual inspection was a necessary part of this. After all, you'd want your doctor to tell you if something looked wrong down there, right?

But he didn't say anything was wrong-- actually, he hummed a little, in a sort of approving way, as the gloved fingers spread your lips. "Is this okay?" he asked softly, and you nodded slightly.

Only when he raised an eyebrow and looked at your face again did you realize he couldn't see a nod while he was giving you an exam. "Y-yes," you stuttered out, "this is okay."

"Relax," he encouraged you.

"Thanks," you breathed, "it's not that I'm uncomfortable with you, or anything--"

"No, I mean, you need to physically relax," he explained, "for your internal exam."

You shivered slightly. "O-oh... right."

"Just take a deep breath," he suggested, and you nodded before trying it-- but the exhale came out a little sharply as he slid two fingers inside you. "You're clenching on me," he noticed, and something about the way he said it sounded a little wrong... not quite professional enough.

"S-sorry," you mumbled, feeling your face warm up.

He curled the fingers inside you, and you had to bite down on your lip as it made your legs shake. "How does that feel?" he asked, and you hated how close you were to blurting out that it felt good.

"Uhm... it's fine..." you answered quietly instead.

"I'm going to apply a little pressure," he warned you, let me know if you feel anything out of the ordinary.

His other hand laid over you, just above where his fingers reached inside you, and gently pressed down-- well, gently at first. He kept pushing and curling his fingers until you choked out a yelp, unable to stop it, and he looked up at you.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Does that hurt?"

"N-no," you sighed. He did it again, his icy gaze darting instantly to the way your legs quivered.

He moved his fingers, teasing the spot inside you again, and your hips jerked in search of more pleasure as you shut your eyes and realized you couldn't deny anymore what he was doing to you.

"I-I'm sorry," you whined, "I'm so sorry, Doctor Crane, I--"

"It's okay," he breathed, "just relax. Let it happen."

Before you could try to process any of that, he did it again-- and again, and again, stimulating you with exact, clinical precision.

You'd never come so fast-- but then again, you'd never had a professional give you one. Apparently, the right combination of movements can bring it on quickly; so quickly, that before you knew it, you were shaking uncontrollably on the exam table, moaning desperately, a wave of slick heat running down from your entrance and coating both his glove and the sanitary paper beneath you.

"Good, good," he praised coldly, watching the effect his work had on you. He stopped moving his fingers when you passed the peak of it, but didn't take them out, instead just watching you blink your eyes open and catch your breath.

"Doctor, I--" you began nervously, even though you still hadn't decided what to say.

"That was impressive," he offered you with a smile, "and even faster than I expected. You must be quite sensitive."

You blinked at him in shock, confident that none of that was appropriate for an allegedly 'routine' exam. "I don't understand," you breathed.

"You don't need to," he assured, making you gasp as he slowly began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, slowly gaining speed. "You just need to lay back and stay relaxed alright? I'll do the rest."

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow smut #jonathan crane dark fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader

[avatar-anna]

Rumors

so...i've had this concept rattling around in my brain, but i had no idea how to write it, so i used pictures instead. i definitely want to do more, but tumnlr only allows 10 pictures a post, so here's to hoping i remember to come back to this in the future!

yourinstagram

liked by taylorswift and 67,530 others

yourinstagram: had a very cool dude over today to make even cooler music

yoursistersinstagram: you let someone in the bat cave?!

y/nfan5: possible collab on the new album?

yourinstagram: more like i was helping someone with theirs ;))

harrystyles: Thank you for having me. X.

harryfan3: HARRY???

harryfan7: omgomgomgomgomg

y/nfan1: pls god let us have a harry and y/n collab on his next album i NEED it

harrystyles

liked by gemmastyles, yourinstagram and 2,233,781 others

harrystyles: HS3. Coming soon.

harryfan8: NEW ALBUM ALERT

harryfan11: HARRY YOU CANT JUST DROP SOMETHING LIKE THAT WITHOUT A RELEASE DATE

harryfan4: this has to be what he was working on with y/n right?

y/nfan3: i need them both on a song together

yourinstagram: had fun late night talking with you xx

y/nfan9: i'm sorry wHAT

harryfan5: is this flirting this sounds like flirting

harryfan13: honestly...here for it

y/nupdates

liked by harryfan7 and 4,320 others

y/nupdates: Y/n in a video for Vogue recently!

"A lot of people ask me how Harry Styles ended up recording at my house when we'd virtually never crossed paths before. It was actually Taylor (Swift) who kind of set the whole thing up. They spoke at the Grammys last year and she apparently gave him my number so we could work together...He called and asked if I was available to help with his album at all. At the time I was on the road, then working on stuff for the band, and it just kind of went back and forth for a few months while we tried to line up our schedules. Then I was done touring, but I was kind of in a weird state in life where I didn't want to leave the house or hang out with anyone. And I remember making up excuses because I wasn't really up to making myself presentable to a whole team of people I'd never met before and having our first meeting be this huge thing. I'd basically built it all up in my head about how our ideas would clash and we wouldn't get along and I just kept telling him maybe some other time. Long story short, Harry showed up at my place a week later by himself with just a guitar, a notebook, and my favorite takeout order. We spent the whole day together working on a bunch of different stuff from themes to genres of music to sampling and mixing. And writing. Lots and lots of writing. And now he's a dear friend. He's so sweet and so talented. I wish him all the best with the new album."

y/nfan8: ok i'm glad it worked out and everything but imagine a virtual stranger showing up to your HOUSE?? like she said no and he basically forced her to write his album for her

y/nfan4: that's so real of her tbh to not want to leave her house

y/nfan2: y/n is notoriously introverted it makes sense

harryfan13: girl...

y/nfan7: i don't think it was that serious. and if she really didn't want him there she could've said no

harryfan13: and y/n literally called him a friend?? stop trying to start shit that doesn't exist

y/nfan7: of COURSE mother brought them together

harryfan17: i can't believe that's what harry and taylor were talking about in the video!

harryfan2: chill harry doesn't need to be in a relationship with every woman he's associated with

harryfan4: wait but wasn't y/n at that grammys too?

harryfan9: it was still covid it's possible their paths didn't cross

y/nfan19: wait what if he was too shy to go up to her??😭

harryfan4: i love that they're writing besties now but i think they'd be so cute together 🥹

hsupdates

liked by harryfan4 and 10,343 others

hsupdates: Harry about Y/n L/n for Rolling Stone:

"I've always admired (Y/n's) work. She and her band are incredibly talented, and are just so passionate about creating music. I wanted that same energy for my third album, the freedom to make whatever I want without any reservations, and I knew Y/n was the perfect addition to the team. It took some convincing, but once we kind of got started, we couldn't stop. As we've gotten to know each other these past few months, I not only respect her as a musician, but for the person she is as well. Her soul is one of a kind, and I feel like my album would be so different without her on it. So now not only do I have an album that I'm proud of and love, but I got an extraordinary friend out of it too."

harryfan9: so this is what people mean when they say platonic soulmates

y/nfan12: all we've gotten is crumbs and i'm already in love with their friendship. and the album of course

y/nfan2: i'm so interested to hear this album now. if y/n is on it it has to be good

harryfan3: "her soul is one of a kind?" if that's harry as a friend i don't think i can handle boyfriendrry😭

y/nfan7: i'm holding out hope for them honestly🤞🏼🤞🏼

liked by harrystyles and 23,724 others

yourinstagram

yourinstagram: you've fallen from the sky down to me, i see it in your face, i'm relief, i'm your summer girl

y/nfan17: shut up are those song lyrics??

yourbandinstagram: the tears behind your dark sunglasses, the fears inside your heart as deep as gashes🎶🎶

y/nfan17: HOLY SHIT those ARE lyrics!

y/nfan6: haven't even heard the song and i know the girls have done it again

harryfan4: could it...could it be about harry?

y/nfan8: you're grasping at straws

harryfan12: are they? they've been spotted together all over LA

harrystyles: ☀️☀️

y/nfan8: as friends. friends can hang out can't they?

harryfan3: new music from harry AND y/n? we're about to be fed y'all

harryfan10: THEY REALLY ARE BESTIES

y/nfan2: i bet they collaborated on this song together

Interviewer (I): What's one memory or experience you can share from making this album? Any trips to Japan or Jamaica?

Harry (H): We stayed in Los Angeles mostly for this one. But erm...in terms of a specific memory...I would say that while I was working with Y/n, one of the tracks was actually inspired by her cat.

I: Really?

H: Yeah. Whenever it did something to annoy Y/n, which was quite often, she'd call her a little freak. The song's obviously not about the cat, but the phrase was in my head and yeah. Things just kind of...snowballed from there.

I: The sound that Y/n's band has is more rock centric, a similar sound to your first album. Is that what we can expect for your third studio album?

I: You've become quite close to Y/n L/n it seems like.

H: Not necessarily. Y/n and I collaborated, but she also let me take the reins in terms of sound. She had opinions of course and we would bounce ideas off of each other...but she really just followed my lead and supported the vision I had. She is playing a majority of the instruments on the album, though.

H: It's hard not to.

I: How so?

I: It sounds like you could go on for quite some time about her.

H: She's just cool, you know? I was kind of intimidated when we met for the first time. She's quiet, but you never forget that she's in the room, you just want to go over and talk to her. Of course once you meet her she's incredibly kind and not at all intimidating, but still like chill and stuff. The first time we met we sat for an hour just talking about music we enjoyed and live shows we wanted to attend and things we learned while in lockdown. She's just effortlessly cool. An old soul, I guess. And somehow she translates that into her music. Her sisters, too. They're all just first-rate musicians.

H: Sorry. I kind of gushed for a minute there.

H: And the band. They're just so talented, you know?

harrystyles

liked by jeffazoff and 4,211,323 others

harrystyles: From start to finish, making this album has been such an incredible journey. It was so fun to try new things sonically while also making something that I'm one hundred percent proud of. I've never felt more myself while making music than I did while creating this album for all of you, and I have so many people to thank for that. Hopefully you know who you are. I love, love, love you.

harryfan16: 😭😭😭😭😭

harris_reed: little angel👼

harryfan3: WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU

yourinstagram: congratulations h. you deserve it.💐💐💐

harrystyles: I couldn't have done it without you💐

yourinstagram

liked by yourbandinstagram and 53,089 others

yourinstagram: for one night and one night only...but in all seriousness shout out to my friend and his incredible album. happy to have been a part of the magic :)))

harryfan13: HAPPY HARRY DAY!!!

harryfan4: is she in ny??

y/nfan7: yes! she was spotted with harry before the show today

harryfan9: they're literally so cute i love their friendship

harrystyles: You made the magic happen. Thank you for everything. X.

harryfan3: they're so...

y/nfan2: i genuinely think they like fucking with us bc i legitimately can't tell if they're dating or not

y/nfan7: at this point i don't even care i love whatever they're doing they both just seem so happy to be besties/lovers/collaborators and i love that for them

harryfan5: ^^

y/nupdates

liked by harryfan10 and 3,742 others

y/nupdates: Y/n performing Keep Driving onstage with Harry in NYC tonight at ONO!

y/nupdates: When he introduced her, he said: "Tonight is special in a lot of ways. I'm sharing my album with you for the first time, my family's here, my friends are here, and...a very good friend of mine is here to play a song with me tonight. This album wouldn't have been possible without her, so please give her as much love as you've given me. Y/n L/n, everybody!"

harryfan4: stop they're so close it hurts😭

y/nfan7: i was there they were staring at each other and smiling the whole time!

harryfan12: that's the one where he says choke her with a sea view!?

y/nfan7: YES AND I SWEAR HIS SMILE GOT BIGGER WHEN HE SANG THAT PART AND LOOKED AT HER LIKE HE FULLY HAD TO TURN AROUND TO LOOK AT HER BC SHE WAS PLAYING THE DRUMS

harryfan3: i'm choosing to believe they're in love idc what anyone else says

hs/ynupdates

hs/ynupdates: Harry, Y/n, and her sisters in New York after ONO tonight! Apparently Harry and Y/n were standing and walking very close to each other. Like arms wrapped around each other close.

harryfan2: that could literally mean anything tho. they're good friends why wouldn't they walk next to each other?

y/nfan14: i feel like they don't know if they're dating or not at this point😅

y/nfan8: her sisters are so unserious i love it

y/nfan5: i love that they all showed up for harry🥹

yourbandinstagram

liked by taylorswift, harrystyles and 710,225 others

yourbandinstagram: Thanks for having us, London!

y/nfan1: i can't believe i got to see harry and y/n perform in ONE NIGHT

harryfan3: sending my love and my tears to everyone who got to experience this historic night

harrystyles: Thank you for taking the time to share the stage with me. X.

yourbandfan2: how do y'all always look so good 😭

I: So you opened for Harry Styles a few weeks ago and performed a song with him in New York.

Y/n: My sisters and I did, yeah.

I: How did that come about? Did your team call his team? Or was it more casual than that?

Y/n: Oh, definitely more casual. I think we were just hanging out together one morning and he kind of just suggested it. No bells and whistles or anything like that.

I: So can we expect (Your band) to join Harry on his upcoming tour, then?

Y/n: I don't think so. We're working on putting out a record of our own at the moment, but we do want to get back out on the road soon, but I will definitely be attending more of his shows in the future.

I: And what can we expect from this upcoming record? Did Harry help you the way you helped him out?

Y/n: I've sent him a couple things to listen to, and I value his opinion a lot, both as a friend and as an artist. He also showed me a couple records recently which kind of influenced how I approached some of the songs sonically. He's got a huge vinyl collection at his house. I'm honestly kind of jealous.

I: There's been some rumors running around that you and Harry are in a romantic relationship. Would you like to put any of those rumors to rest?

Y/n: I could see where people might think that. Harry's very affectionate by nature, and over the last couple of months we've become very close. He's not just someone I admire in the music industry, but as a person in general. I feel incredibly lucky to call him a friend. And a close one, at that.

I: So just a friend then?

Y/n: Yeah. Yeah, just a friend.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[prttykittes]

staying anon for this bec i feel disgusting indulging in this.

i’m big on dark/dddne stuff and yet I feel terrible reading it so i’m kinda glad i found somewhere i can kindof have a place to express more extreme stuff.

anyways big sis beidou wants to be your first so right when you turn 18 she takes your virginity :3

or dad zhongli sees that your bf is not what he thinks a BF should be like to he takes him out and makes you his. i mean this is more of a possessiveness than actual NSFW. i dont know😭

Stoner kazuha roofies you (with prior consent tho w this one)

Diluc gives you too much to drink so he fucks you instead.

i have so much more.. and if i ever do come back i’ll be “:3 anon”

do what you want w any of these 💕

Woahh:0, there's alot so I tried my best to do everything blog, I won't shame anyone for liking these things kind of stuff!!<3

ෆ Big!sis Beidou, Stoner!Kazuha, dad!zhongli, diluc X Afab!Reader [you/your]

— Synopsis:: multiple characters x reader, yeah

CW. Incest(father/child, Sister/slibing), smokes, weed, roofies, consent(Kazuha), dubcon(for everyone else), possessive sex(zhongli), drunk sex(Diluc), age gaps, fingering, Dom!characters x Sub!reader, reader wears pants in kazuha's part

A/N :: Multiple sexy characters :4— written by a minor

[MASTERLIST] — ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯ works in link!

BIG SIS! Beidou ! — She was so happy for you! It was your birthday! She got off her boat and went to your parents house! She saw you, you were still gorgeous as ever! She tears up, she was with for 18 years, her lovely slibing.... Oh how she dreamed about this day, she wants to be your first. So she's going to take you to her boat since you had always wanted to go on the water with her! She would spent time with you on there, just you and her. She celebrated your birthday, then she asked if you wanted to go on a ride. You said yes, now your both on her boat but instead of familial love it was filled with romantical love. She was half she was your first, she at first toying with your nipples. She went lower, she can hear you breathing heavily. Your eyes are hazy, your mind cloudy. Her hand was your sex, she rubbed it. She sees your lovely juices on her fingers, she can't wait to claim you as hers. Her sweet, lovely slibing all hers!

STONER!Kazhu— The smell of weed brunt your nose, he was smiling at you. His hand on his chin, his eyes were slightly red. He had his eyes on you, you sat down next to him. "{Yourname}" he says, you tilt your head in confusion. He gets up, his legs slightly trembling, he wraps his arms around you. "Can I?" He said, you knew what he had wanted to do. You never went this far in your friendship with him! You did have dreams and did wish for him to like you, you also had sexual dreams about him. You can't believe what your going to do with him, he smiles. He grabs some pills, he was going to roofie you but instead of doing it without consent. He has your consent, you close your eyes and take it. You gulp and your head feels weird, your eyes become hazy. He smiles and gently lies you on the bed. He is on-top of you, he lays soft and gentle bites on your neck. He continues to do while his kisses gets lower, you close your eyes and let yourself into the pleasure. He toys with your chest, rolling your nipples between his fingers. He pulls down your pants and touches your sex through your underwear. His finger going up and down, pressing on it. "Your so cute..." He mutters, he take soff your underwear and Lena's down and licks at your sex. He smiles when your sex twitches. He coats his fingers in your pre-cum, then he prods his finger at your hole. His fingers scissor your virgin hole, making you more open for dick. You can feel his clothed dick against your leg while he continues to finger you, after some minutes. He stops and and pulls down his pants so his underwear shows and he slides his underwear down and his dick jumps up. He aims his cock at your hole, your hole clenches around nothing as you anxiously wait for it. He grabs a condom and enters you, his hard dick inside of you. He moves once you get used of his size. The motion is lazy and tried but it still feels good. Your virgin hole is not a Virgin anymore!!!

DAD!ZHONGLI !— He doesn't deserve his sweet baby! He stares at you and your boyfriend, he isn't a boyfriend. His boyfriend ideals for you are something like him!! He angrily glares and judges your boyfriend from afar. He can't believe that you chose someone that is trash, he gets so mad that he gets rid of your boyfriend... Oh I wonder how he got so bloody and why he is covered in blood.. don't worry it's not his!!don't worry baby, no need to worry about anything~ he comforts you after you find out your boyfriend is dead, shhh.... You still have him, your daddy is always here for you!! He won't leave you, he is going to make you his, not like you weren't his from the start! His kisses start form your temple to near your lips, his hands on your thigh to inner thighs. You sniff as you lean into his touch, just enjoy his touches. he slips his hand into your pajamas pants, touching your underwear. He continues to kiss your neck, wanting to mark you with his kisses and his touches. His fingers touch your sex and he slips his hand into your underwear, he smiles as he can feel your sex being wet. He pleasures you with his touches, he can't wait to claim you for his own. Emptying his seed inside of you!

DILUC !— He watches you, you weren't this drink from the start but you know... Things change, he continues to give you more. You were worried about the drinks because you wouldn't have enough to pay but you don't care anymore. Your drunken state, it exitces him but it's only with you. He gives you two more drinks and you drink it up fast like you want to please him... Your flustered face makes him want to kiss you and fuck your face but he can't bring himself to do so~ you let out hiccups and you lay your head on the table. He cleans the empty cups and gives you one more, you grab it weakly as you managed to drink it. You rant to him about annoying people and troubles in your life, he smiles as he listens to you. Your face still on the table, your hands are in a fist but then it goes limp. He hears soft snores from you, he walks around and rubs your hips. He blows in your ear, you still don't wake up. Your body is asleep and he could take advantage of it. He groans while he moves you over to more of a comfortable spot. He takes off your lower clothing and slides down your underwear. He sticks his finger in a cup as it is soaked with the alcohol, he pushes inside of you. Your loose and not tight, your whole body being loose. He kisses your forehead and continues to finger your hole, he lets out a grunt. His dick is really hard, he pulls out his cock and aims it at your hole. He can't wait anymore, he spits on his palm and rubs it on his dick. It's unsanitary but whatever because he is going to be inside of you!! His dick enters you, he lets out a groan, he moves his hips. It feels so good, he should do this more often to you until he gains courage to ask you out!!

#anon: :3 #kittytail #kittymilk #kittypussy #kittyorgans #tw.incest #cw.incest #genshin impact smut x reader #x reader smut #x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #beidou x reader #beidou x reader smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader smut #beidou smut #zhongli smut #stoner kazuha #stoner kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader smut #diluc x reader #diluc smut #diluc x reader smut

[randomshyperson]

R U Mine? - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: A game of cat and mouse begins between an Avenger and a criminal. But perhaps there are no winners, as they both fall.

Warnings: mentions of typical canon violence, hints of abusive past and unhealthy work dynamics, some superhero routine lore, more shapeshifter power mentions, mutual pining, forbidden relationship, some teasing, (first) kiss and then a lot of kisses and steamy make out, some fluff and comedy. | Words: 6.965K

A/N-> How many references to Killing Eve can one put in a story. And also, references to the Witch's Road comics. This here is the extra chapter about their first kiss, enjoy reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

"I know what you're doing."

Three weeks prior, Natasha's sentence would have made her jump with fright. Perhaps she would have tried to hide all those files and lie and lie again, until she could convince herself the whole thing was about the job.

But today? Wanda was tired. She had spent the last few hours stumbling into dead ends, no progress on whatever she was trying to do with all that vague information Shield had on you.

So she lifted her face to the redhead who appeared in her room late at night, two cups of coffee in hand, and chuckled weakly at the statement. It was obvious that the drink was an invitation - perhaps even a sign of 'hey, I'm not trying to start a fight. I want to help,' and Wanda accepted without hesitation.

"It's not like I'm doing a good job of keeping it a secret." She retorts to Nat, who smiles before taking the empty space on the bed. Practically all the Shield files - now labeled Avengers - about you are scattered on the mattress. It's a mess, and to Nat, it makes sense that Wanda hasn't made much progress.

"To be fair, for a first-time Investigation, I think you're doing all right." Says the widow after a sip of her coffee. "You covered your tracks and even used an official justification for researching her. Your mistake was involving Vision."

Wanda sighs. "Let me guess, he talks under pressure?"

Nat chuckles, nodding. Wanda rubs a tension point on her forehead. Taking advantage of this, Natasha gestures to one of the files. "I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do, Maximoff. But this doesn't seem very healthy."

Wanda gives a sad smile, and Nat expects her to defend herself. But instead, the smaller girl sighs. "I know." She murmurs sincerely, forcing a faint smile at the widow. "But I need this, Nat. It's the first time in months that I've managed to think about anything other than Pietro. And I know it doesn't look healthy, but it's all I've got. I'm an Avenger now. Maybe it's just time to get to work, and arrest villains or something."

Natasha frowned at her, absorbing the confession for a moment before rebutting: "Is that what you want to do with Y/N, though? Lock her up?"

Wanda swallows dryly, looking down. "Of course, Nat."

"You're a terrible liar."

The brunette sighs. "I mean it!"

"And I don't believe you." Nat insists in a good mood despite everything. "Look at all this, Wanda. You've been at it for days. Studying her. Did you even remember to eat anything in the last few hours?" Wanda snorts, gesturing to the breakfast leftovers on the dresser in the corner of the room which makes Natasha let out an incredulous laugh. "Wow, a nutritious example you are."

The witch tosses her hair back. "If you've come here to try to babysit me, please leave."

Natasha rolled her eyes and ignored the other woman's stubbornness. She put her coffee down between her crossed legs and started organizing the files.

"You're naturally perceptive and clever, Maximoff. But you lack experience and practice. You need to put together a timeline and find the gaps." The widow began, and masterfully, all the security camera photos, reports from shield agents, and unexplained crimes related to thieves with no identifiable faces began to connect and make sense. "But I must warn you, I did all this years ago. When I started at Shield, your little friend was already some sort of the goose that laid the golden eggs, or stole the gold for the saying to work."

"She's not my friend." Wanda murmured, her gaze fixed on the files so Natasha wouldn't see her blush. The widow ignored the comment and continued talking.

"My point is that I didn't get very far." Nat says with a sigh. "To be honest, it was an insult to my ego. She was just a kid back there. And she managed to flee much more experienced agents. She had endless, untraceable disguises. She doesn't need to impersonate, you know? She can create faces. It makes her almost impossible to monitor. When we met for the first time, it was she who found me." Nat says, swallowing dryly at her own memories. Wanda's eyes widen softly, listening carefully. "I never told this to anyone, but when Clint first met me, he told me that he felt something. As if he knew I wanted to escape. And when I saw Y/N, I had the same feeling."

"What did you do?" Wanda asked and Nat sighed.

"I couldn't do what Clitn did for me, Wanda, I'm sorry." Said the widow sincerely. "She attacked first. And I had to defend myself. It wasn't just protocol, it was all I'd learned to do."

Wanda frowns. "Why are you telling me all this, Nat?"

The redhead sighs. "Because it's important. It means that she doesn't trust easily, and attacks when she feels threatened. She reminds me of both of us, to be honest." Nat comments, getting a small smile from the witch. "Besides, I want you to be really careful if you do dig into this."

"I will."

"I'm serious, Wanda." Insists the redhead. "Careful not to miss a gun hidden in her dress." She remembers the last official report Wanda made, regarding her first mission, the night she simply couldn't stop thinking about, especially after your secret vision to the compound, and the witch swallows dryly. Nat doesn't mind her hesitation. "Careful in a way that you'll use your powers if necessary."

Without looking the widow in the eye, Wanda retorts between her teeth: "I get it, Nat."

"You're not going to carry this on until you look me in the eye, Maximoff. And swear it."

Wanda's stubbornness falters, and she returns her attention to the widow, looking at her seriously. Nat gives her a small smile as she adds, "It's not just Clint who cares about your safety. We all do. I'm not going to allow you to throw yourself headlong into something dangerous just to escape your grief, Wanda. Swear that you'll be very careful, and you'll walk away if it gets too dangerous."

Wanda is surprised by the tenderness, and a little embarrassed. It takes a moment but she finally nods. "I swear." She says before adding. "I want to help Y/N. Like Clint helped you. Not lock her up, like I said before."

Natasha chuckles. "I know, kid. I know."

With the Black Widow’s blessing, she kept digging those files. And Nat didn't lie, you're untraceable. Every time you meet, it's clear that you've let yourself be found. Even with handcuffs on your wrist, you keep smiling as if it was all part of the plan. Judging by the way you always escape from prisons, later going public that some confidential information for the police was stolen, this is easily confirmed.

The Avengers are getting used to the strange persecution, very much because each of them has their secrets. And just like his protégé, Steve Rogers had side missions to pursue Bucky. It would be hypocritical of him to hold anything against Wanda for being after you.

And Wanda couldn't stop. Even after hundreds of dead ends and ridiculous escapes. She had to meet you, and have less than five minutes in your presence with another twelve agents and the whole Avengers present every fortnight when they manage to track you only for you to escape again. She didn't know why, but she had the impression that you looked forward to these moments as much as she did.

Like a little private game of mouse and cat, only you and her were part of.

-&-

There are a hundred things to do in the Capital of Crime.

The most complete list of gambling games imaginable, right down to a mural of targets to be captured.

All these things are at your disposal, and all you can think about is the new addition to the Avengers team.

Wanda Maximoff was born in the country that fell from the sky around the same time that Baron Strucker was playing Pinky and the Brain with your cells in a secret laboratory of the now-destroyed Hydra. A Stark bomb made her an orphan, and after bouncing from orphanage to orphanage, often expelled for getting into trouble with her twin brother, Wanda embarked on protest groups in search of civil rights until she was finally recruited into a human experimentation program that turned her into an enhanced version of herself. She was the only reason for the first time in your life that you wished you hadn't split with Strucker so soon - If you'd still been his puppy instead of the clients he got, you would have met her. You may have become friends.

"She's doing it again." Xu Xialing whispered to Layla, the two engaged in a game of Beat the Hero - a competition of colored cards that contained electronic figures detailing the abilities of real-life superheroes. It was, in a way, training for possible battles in real life, where they learned about their enemies by playing. The two of them were sitting in opposite armchairs, while you were practically lying on the sofa, drinking with a lost look on your face. According to them, fantasizing for the tenth time in a row about the Avenger you met in Italia weeks ago.

Layla giggled when she saw your expression before turning her face to Xu Xialing again. "You know, they say Maximoff has psychic powers. Maybe Y/N is under a spell."

"A love spell, that is." Mocks the Chinese woman, getting a laugh from the other.

You only came out of your trance of thoughts about Wanda with the bell from the private room you were in. Your face changed before the curtain opened, and Xu Xialing was the first to look at the security guard entering, somewhat annoyed at having her private time playing games with friends interrupted.

"Forgive me for intruding, madam. The Countess is here and requests the Sage to join her." The man said, and Xialing nodded in understanding. She turned to you, but there was no need. With a soft leap from the sofa, you got to your feet and took one of Layla's cards from her pile - you threw it on the board and helped her win the game, taking the opportunity to leave the room while the two of them discussed whether the assisted victory had been fair or not.

The Golden Daggers Club was as packed and vibrant as ever. The next round of betting for the fights was due to start soon, and there were a lot of people shouting their bets to the judges, and joining the fight cages, so you had to make some effort to follow the venue's security guard into the special area of the place - where federal agents were given even more privacy to be around.

Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine was waiting for you alone, but behind a door with six security guards guarding her. Each of them gave you a look of contempt, but you walked past them without any reaction until you were with Valentina in a room with no windows, every inch of which was covered in priceless works of art, many of them stolen throughout history, which you and Layla recovered together in the service of the Ten Rings.

"You wanted to see me, Countess?" was your greeting, softly snarky. You weren't in the best of moods, especially since Valentina had interrupted your rest.

The woman gave you a false smile from the armchair where she was sitting waiting for you. A closed file and a glass of wine lay on the corner table.

"Oh, what a surprise, after your last defeat, I thought you'd given up on Sage." She comments with a certain venom on your disguise, the same one you wore two weeks ago when you went on what she called a streak of bad luck in the Club's fighting competitions, but which Xu Xialing called a distracted lovesick puppy. You try to disguise your clumsiness by clearing your throat.

Checking that the door is closed, you return to your real appearance and Valentina gives you a small but genuine smile.

"What do you want?" you insist, and in response, she pats the file resting on the table. You sigh. "What's this?"

"Last month has been very busy, but I've finally had time to review some of your late missions reports." She begins and you hide your nervousness, knowing full well where this conversation could end. "I apologize for taking so long to check them, darling. I hope you don’t think I’m jeopardizing your learning progress."

"Stop stalling, Valentina, just tell me what the problem is." You retort grumpily but she chuckles, her fingers tracing the paper before she grabs the file.

“Normally, I trust your experience, but I've heard that you've been particularly... antsy in your last few operations. Of course, you've successfully made it out of all of them, after all, we're having this conversation, but for a master of disguise, the increased number of encounters with the Avengers attracted my curiosity. I thought I'd take a closer look at your original encounters with them, and found an interesting passage in your report on Italy two months ago."

The page is already marked and in the next moment, she begins to read;

"My exit was interrupted by the presence of a new Avenger. A woman, perhaps the same age as me. The new, improved one from Sokovia. Average height, brown hair. Green eyes. Intense. Hypnotizing."

You swallow dryly, looking down at your feet. You're grateful to have control over your own body, or Valentina would be able to watch your cheeks blush.

She continues reading. "We faced each other briefly. The girl doesn't have complete control of her abilities, it was a quick fight. I immobilized her and departed in the getaway vehicle. No disguise was compromised, no other witnesses." Valentina narrates, finally raising her eyes from the file to you. "You know what's funny, sweetheart? The Avengers submitted their own report on Sapienza, and Wanda Maximoff describes the encounter with a Shapeshifter in detail. My question is, why are you lying for someone who didn't hesitate to use her special abilities to show her team your real appearance?"

You're caught off guard. A conflict of emotions rises in your chest, from anger to disappointment. It hurts. It's confusing and suffocating, and you feel the urge to start crying. But none of these emotions floats over your expression, your nails digging into your palm are enough to keep everything well buried.

With a soft sigh, you look Valentina in the eye.

"I don't trust the CIA."

Your boss chuckles, closing the file and crossing her legs. It's not exactly her best lie, but it seems to work on her.

"If this is about the Hydra clean-up in the public sector, I can assure you that we're safe." Valentina says. "Besides, your job is to trust me, Y/N. Not the CIA, or the Ten Rings, or any of your contractors. Only me, dear child, must you trust."

You bite your tongue hard, tears almost escaping this time. 

"I just..." You try, not knowing exactly what to say. "There was a conflict, and the girl, she beat me. Effortlessly. That energy she possesses revealed my disguise immediately, I had no chance to try another one. So I made a choice, and I omitted the part that I thought would do me any harm. Isn't that what you taught me to do?"

Right answer. Valentina grins, before sighing and standing up. You don't want her to touch you, but she puts her hands on your arms and you resist the urge to pull away.

"I'm proud of you, you're getting cleverer every day. I want you to be this way, Y/N. Strong-willed, resourceful." She compliments you, her hands moving up to your cheeks. You try to smile, but Valentina squeezes your skin tighter. "That doesn't mean you will lie to me. Understand?" She asks but doesn't expect a vocal response. Your nod is more than enough for her to give you a fake smile and loosen her grip. "You're my most valuable employee. I don't want you to put yourself in vulnerable situations without a reason."

Valentina steps away, and you decide to take a chance.

"She's like me." It's more hesitant than you'd like, but it's enough to make your boss raise an eyebrow at you. Swallowing dryly, you continue. "Wanda and her brother were also Strucker's experiments. We are the same. I thought I could-"

Valentina interrupts with a spiteful chuckle that makes you cringe like a frightened child. "The same? Is that what you think?" She retorts in a mocking tone that makes you feel too ashamed to even broach the subject. Leaning her waist on the table, she looks at you. "I know you've been digging through my files on her, Y/N. I don't blame you for being curious, but by now, I imagine you know very well the conditions of the experiments Miss Maximoff was part of. How she volunteered for all that. How can you say you're the same?"

You hesitate uneasily. "I don't mind that she volunteered. War called for desperate measures. I just... I've never met any other of us. Another who survived the Baron. I've been thinking if I could just see her-"

Valentina bursts into laughter, and you fall silent, concentrating so that she can't see your red ears. "See her? Now what's that, huh? Romeo and Juliet of the supers? What an absurd idea, child!" Refutes your boss, still chuckling as she walks away to the table. She finishes her glass of wine in one long gulp, and to your surprise, throws the file in your direction. You catch the item flat against your chest. "The notes the Avengers made about you are on page 24. Read what she said about you, and draw your own conclusions about who you call an equal. I came here to confirm your mental state, and this conversation was enlightening. I'll arrange an assessment."

"Val-"

"It’s not open for discussions Y/N." She cuts you off, a car key already in hand that makes you groan to yourself impatiently. "You're not going back to work until you talk to Doctor Grand."

She leaves without saying another word and you're left alone with the file in your hands. Without hurrying, you flip to the page mentioned earlier and sigh when you find a photograph of Wanda wearing a uniform with the Avengers crest embroidered on it. Below is her statement about the mission.

You trace your fingers over the passage "An extraordinary and dangerous skill from an equally impressive fighter" but hesitate when you read the passages about how she felt scared and unsafe. About how she thought you were aiming at her. About how she felt she failed by not bringing a high-risk criminal into custody.

Your tears finally fall, staining the page before you quickly wipe them away, closing the file tightly after ripping Wanda's photo out.

It was time to wrap up loose ends and get back to your perfect record.

-&-

In the fake drawer hidden on the floor under your bed - safeguards for someone whose apartment is frequently visited by a two-faced countess - you kept some personal things. Hydra's last record of you, small souvenirs from missions, and a photograph of Wanda Maximoff.

And this morning - and any other morning really - you were supposed to ignore that drawer, leave any weapons at home, put on a presentable outfit, and meet Valentina in the lobby promptly at 10 o'clock. She would take you by car to Dr. Grant's office who would do a standard assessment of your mental state that would tell whether or not you were fit to return to work.

But instead, you took the photo of Wanda out of its hiding place and put it in your pocket. You stood up, walked through your closet, and chose the least flashy backpack you owned. Then you armed yourself with three different types of knives and two pistols in a chest holster, very similar to that of American detectives. And speaking of the police, your drawer of false documentation provided by Valentina was studied without haste until you had in your pockets the identity of a Shield agent who never existed but was meant to be a little tribute to the job you were performing today.

With your disguise ready, you left the apartment two hours before your scheduled meeting with Valentina, and you had barely boarded the ferry when she called you.

"Our appointments aren't something to be skipped, young lady." Stated the woman seriously, but you gave her a weary sigh.

"I don't wish to see Doctor Grant."

Valentina chuckled, as you handed your ticket to the clerk passing in the corridors. On the other end of the line, she then spoke;

"You're not getting away with this, Y/N. I'm not authorizing your return to work until Roland confirms to me that your mental state is stable for you to continue."

You prop your feet up on the seat, switching your cell phone to another ear. "Val, I'm not running away, I promise. I just needed a break. Give me a few days, okay? Reschedule the visit, I'll be there. I'll even be there early."

She pauses thoughtfully, you can hear her breathing. And then she sighs in defeat and you smile. "Okay. If it's any encouragement, your next service is already being prepared. It's something you've never stolen before, and I'd like it to be yours. Of course, if you prove suitable."

A few weeks ago, the temptation would have been too much and you would have turned around and gone to the appointment just to win Grant's approval and be cleared for the job. To prove not only to Valentina, but to the world, and to any other colleague, that you could complete that mission. 

But now you let out a short laugh, and that surprises Valentina enough for her to keep quiet. "Reschedule for the end of the week. I guarantee that I'll have Dr. Grant's approval and you'll have your order in no time."

The promise seems to be enough for her, and after another sigh, Valentina hangs up. You put your cell phone away and return your attention to the now-stamped train ticket to New York.

The trip didn't take long, and within a few hours, you were in the bustling city. Especially today, at the inaugural Heroes of Earth celebration event, Manhattan was almost chaotic.

With fans and journalists from all over the world filling the streets that had been closed off for a sort of open-air Comic Con, you had no trouble at all going unnoticed in the crowd. You wore a disguise, of course, but you didn't have to. A few minutes into the fair, you really did look like a tourist, with your Avengers sweatshirt, cap, and colorful glasses.

The knives in your backpack were well hidden under the amount of superhero souvenirs you got.

You were trying to choose between an Incredible Hulk smash-burger or a portion of Thor's worthy chicken when the bell announcing the photo session with the Avengers was about to start.

Your appetite disappeared, anxiety taking over your whole body at once.

It was time to move.

The queue was huge, as was to be expected. At least, most of them were there for the best-known Avengers. Thor wasn't even on Earth, which meant that the other five originals were competing with each other over who got the most autographs. The new members, like Wanda, the Falcon, or Vision, were given presentation stands but had much more free time at the event.

You tried to ignore the pang of pride when you saw that among the new members, the queue of people to see Wanda was the longest. A considerable number of children were very excited to ask her to do magic tricks.

Your strawberry milkshake - Black Widow's Special - almost fell out of your hand when you finally saw Wanda leave the curtains dividing the dressing rooms and join the autograph table.

She wasn't wearing the soft hoodie with the Avengers symbol from the photograph you sneak a peek at almost every night, nor was she wearing the pathetic disguise she wore the first time you saw her. No, somehow, she managed to look prettier. Like all her teammates, she was wearing an outfit similar to the official fighting uniform, probably designed just for the event. With a black tactical outfit covered by a red jacket, the gloves that didn't cover her fingers were probably your favorite part.

Despite her relatively unfriendly uniform, Wanda offered such lovely smiles to the people who came to greet her that you thought the milkshake made you sick, judging by the way your stomach and heart were unsettled.

When the Meet & Greets began, you had to go to the ticket booth and buy a single ticket in cash; to meet Wanda, of course.

It would take place back in the fair's improvised dressing rooms, and after waiting for almost forty minutes, you were finally guided inside. Your backpack wasn't searched, perhaps because your weapons were hidden by Ten Rings technology, a gift from Xu Xialing on your last assignment, and when it went through the X-ray at the entrance, all they detected were the countless fair toys you had acquired. And the knives hidden in your body, well, it's obvious to say that when it comes to changing aspects of your anatomy for any situation, passing a security search was quite easy.

"Miss Maximoff will be here in a minute. She had a little problem with her costume, the children who came in before you caused a little milkshake accident."

One of the organizers informed you, and you gave her a kind smile, commenting that the Black Widow special was essential, even if it might cause minor accidents. The employee chuckled before going to answer a call on her communicator that could have been your intentional flooding of one of the toilets to occupy as many of the staff as possible.

Wanda's dressing room was the most intimate environment of hers you've ever been in. It didn't have many things, of course, but for someone who only had access to government documents, it was paradise.

Curious fingers traced all the belongings you could reach, from more comfortable pieces of clothing for her to change into during the event, to different types of tea and books, until you found a music device. 

The password protection on a Stark Industries MP3 player made you laugh to yourself. "What a distrustful little witch." You murmured affectionately, stowing the item in your jacket pocket and moving over to the schedule board.

You had already read the row that marked the start of the Meets, probably described there and in all the other dressing rooms, when your gaze caught a small notebook forgotten in one of the armchairs.

You got the chance to take it in hand and smile at the sketches on the first few pages before the item was suddenly lifted and pulled out of your hand.

"Sorry, but this is private." Wanda grabbed the item out of the air, but you stood there, static like a frightened animal, unable to breathe properly under her gaze. She seemed to realize that she had been too harsh and huffed out a laugh, the notebook clutched tightly against her chest. The sound made you swallow. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting, I guess you got bored. Sorry about that. Let me put this away, and we can, um, get started."

She didn't use magic to return the book to a safe place, you didn't know that yet, but Wanda was still learning to trust her powers. And if she could help it, she usually didn't use them.

She approached you, to put the book away in a bag that you didn't have a chance to peek into, and the sudden movement made your body react in alarm. Your back hit the schedule board, and Wanda frowned, stopping in her tracks with an almost hurt look on her face.

"You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you, you know." She murmured with the tips of her ears red. "I'm just going to put my notebook away, you see." The backpack floated towards her with a tug, and Wanda hardly met your gaze after that. She tossed the bag into a corner of the room and fiddled uncomfortably with the edge of her blouse.

She was no longer wearing the outfit she'd worn before, she was wearing a comfortable set, too soft and domestic for you to be calm-minded about anything.

You forced your brain to work because you thought the whole thing was getting ridiculous.

"I'm not scared." Your voice comes out very hoarse, so you clear your throat. Wanda raises her eyes, finally, and the green irises make your cheeks warm. You don't hide it from her. "As a matter of fact, I'm not the one who usually gets scared when we meet, am I, Maximoff?"

Taking the time she needed to understand, you removed your colored glasses and cap, your face changing back to its original appearance. Wanda sighed shakily as soon as she recognized you.

"Hi, Y/N." She greeted, too sweet for you to do anything but smile shyly, forgetting for a moment exactly what you had come for. 

"Hello, Wanda." You tried to sound just as gentle, but you must have done a poor job, to blame it on your body that doesn't seem to be working properly. Wanda swallows dryly, her hands moving slowly in the air. You watch the unhurried gesture - the way her fingers draw the air, and how the items of disguise float away to the armchair, and in your hands appear handcuffs that don't prevent you from moving them, and don't hurt either. The most you feel is a tickle.

"I've come all this way, just for you to put me in chains, little witch." You try to tease her, and you think it's a victory the way Wanda tries to hide a smile, approaching with her head down until she's close enough to touch you.

Her hands should be gripping the magical handcuffs, but instead, they hold yours. Wanda sighs. 

"You can't be here." She whispers, meeting your eyes, and you think it's ridiculous that you made any plans at all. You could never do anything to harm Wanda, and that was just the truth. "Then why are you?"

Unlike her, you don't hide your smile. You shrug as if your heart wasn't thumping in your chest, and revel in playing with Wanda's buttons.

"I was in the neighborhood. Wanted to say hi." Your casual reply makes her snort impatiently.

Her hands release yours, and you raise an eyebrow at Wanda's audacity to start searching you. 

"Wow, take me on a date first, love." You joke, but despite the new color her cheeks acquire due to the joke, the fond nickname, Wanda doesn't stop. She gropes in your pockets, reaches into your jacket, and grimaces with disapproval at every illegal item she finds. The false documents, the Shield badge, the guns. The MP3 is in the front pocket and Wanda gets a little closer to reach it, enough so that you have to lick your lips trying to control the instinct to break the distance. She just looks so kissable and smells so good.

She offers you an incredulous look at the stolen item, which floats back to the table as she gropes for the other pocket. Finding the train ticket, she lets out a short laugh.

"Six hours of travel is not being in the neighborhood." She comments, raising her eyes to you. 

"What do you want me to say?" You retort with a little smile, discourteously glancing between her eyes and her lips. "That I couldn't help myself and had to get on the first train to see you again? That I can't even go back to work because I can't stop thinking about you?"

There's this thing that Wanda's eyes do. The pupils get huge, and the green darkens. And she looks at you as if you were something to be devoured in every detail as if you were worth admiring. As if you were worth any of her time.

She speaks again, so low and hoarse that you wouldn't be able to hear her if you weren't close.

"Your thoughts are loud. Are you always so hard on yourself?" 

You swallow dry, caught off guard. Your hesitation makes Wanda sigh. She looks ready to apologize when you nod.

"It doesn't matter, every time we bump into each other, you make me feel different. Better. You look at me as if you can see more. What do you see, Wanda?"

She sighs deeply, and her hands move to touch your face. It's too gentle, and affectionate in a real and true way that you never experience. Your body goes rigid, not knowing how to handle the tenderness, but Wanda doesn't catch any request for her to stop touching, so her hands continue to hold your cheeks.

"I can see your anger, just as I can see your fear. I see the thief, and the murderer, but I can also see only you. No disguises, no lies. The person you are underneath it all." She says, swallowing dryly as she lets her gaze fall to your lips. "This is the person I let get away. And the person I'd like to meet, if you'll let me."

Your chest is heavy with confusing feelings. Your traumas beep in unison, your defenses beg you to push Wanda away and flee before the rest of the Avengers decide to show up. 

But instead, you return watery eyes to Wanda and gasp softly; "Why? Why do you care?"

And Wanda tries to lie. "I think you could use a friend."

You chuckle dryly, pulling away from the touch. "Hard pass." You mutter, but Wanda doesn't let you move away entirely. She decides to risk everything.

She grabs your chin and tilts your face towards her. It's a miscalculated kiss, you both flinch and gasp at the first contact of your lips and being taken by surprise makes you lose your balance in the middle of the movement to get away from her.

You fall into the armchair, and Wanda should apologize, but she doesn't even bother. She pushes your tense shoulders and straddles your lap, this time, when her mouth meets yours, it's much hungrier and more determined.

The handcuffs disappear into thin air with the first gasp that leaves her lips, and you waste no time in grabbing her waist, roughly pulling her down and holding her tight against you as your mouths move together. It's a passionate kiss full of urgency, charged with all the tension you've built up.

Your tongue slides into her mouth without warning, more experienced than Wanda, you manage to get a whimper out in no time. She wants to shrink away from the sound, but your hands slide down to grab her ass and pin her down onto your front, and suddenly all she can do is moan.

It seems absurd that you've gone a lifetime without kissing Wanda Maximoff when you both seem molded to do this with perfection.

You don't even move apart to breathe, a battle of restless hands and hungry mouths panting against each other. Wanda begins to grind herself into your lap in search of friction and you let out a sound you didn't know you could make.

Everything is suddenly so hot that Wanda doesn't hear her surroundings. She doesn't hear the curtain or the footsteps. But she definitely hears the machine man's surprised exclamation.

"Oh, forgive me, Wanda." Vision's back is turned the second he catches a glimpse of what's happening in that armchair.

Wanda jumps away as if she's received a jolt, and you groan in displeasure at the interruption. Despite the way every cell in your body seems to be vibrating with euphoria, you manage subtle changes in your face that prevent the Synthesized from recognizing you if he decides to turn around. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Vis, please leave." She demands with ragged breathing, her face bright red. Wanda looks neither at you nor at Vision.

The man clears his throat, stuttering. "Of course, Wanda, I'm so sorry." He says, but although he mentions leaving, he doesn't. Stopping just before the curtain, he risks a glance over his shoulder. "There was a forced distraction with criminal indications in the western sector, the fair has already been interrupted. The captain has asked everyone to gather for a patrol check, in case there's an attempted attack. I just wanted to warn you. It would be appropriate to send your... friend away." explains the machine, exchanging a quick glance with Wanda before leaving the dressing room.

You'd like to kiss her again, but Wanda sniffles at Vision's departure and you frown in a mixture of concern and confusion.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" She deduces annoyed. "To try a bloody attack on a children's fair? God, I’m so stupid. You’re obviously using me to distract your partners-”

But you stood up with an impatient sigh for the anxious and nervous conclusions of an avenger who has been caught in the act.

You grab Wanda again and kiss her hard enough for her to lose her balance, and she ends up pressed against the schedule board, and then the coffee table, each kiss more desperate and heated than the last.

Your thigh presses between hers, and Wanda practically meows at the friction. You love how responsive she is to your touch, and you try to push a little further under her clothes, quickly addicted to attracting more sounds.

And you're almost to the edge of her bra when you're interrupted again.

"Jesus, Maximoff, what the hell is going on here?" Unlike Vision, Natasha Romanoff is much more serious and determined to put an end to the whole thing. And she cares little about what was happening against the table. You hide the change in your features on Wanda's shoulder, while also trying to control your own breathing, somehow much more aroused than before. "We're working, Maximoff. There may be terrorists on the perimeter and you're here, well, I'm not judging, I'm just saying there's an appropriate time for everything. I'm sure your friend will survive if you let go of her mouth for a few hours. Who knows, maybe next time you can meet in a more appropriate place?" 

When you finally look at Nat, you can see that she's hiding a teasing little smile. You're glad that Wanda is making friends.

And unlike you, who doesn't mind having been caught not once but twice by the Avengers, Wanda looks like an embarrassed tomato who nods quickly while her magic does the work of adjusting your half-open clothes and leaving the objects you bump into in order again. 

"Of course, Natasha, I'll send her away. I'm sorry." Wanda practically pushes you out, dragging you to a more secluded area at the back of the dressing rooms.

She tries unwillingly to resist your eager hands or the quick but intense kisses you steal from her on the way.

"You have to go." She struggles to gasp, her hands pushing your shoulders to stop the whole thing or she wouldn't be able to think.

Wanda with her hair disheveled after a proper make-out session, her face flushed and her lips swollen is too much for you.

"Fuck." You gasp and she swallows.

"What?" 

You don't know what to say, nothing seems enough. She's awakened something in you that you didn't know existed. Suddenly, the idea of staying away from her seems an impossibility.

"When will I see you again?"

She frowns at the question, laughing nervously. "We shouldn't have seen each other even today."

But your hands pull her by the waist. "Nonsense. We should definitely do this again.” Your lips trail down her jaw, to the sensitive points on her neck that you're trying to memorize. She sighs, and struggles to keep her eyes open, but only for a moment before she pushes you away again, laughing shyly.

"Please, darling, I need to get back, my job-"

"There's no attempt attack, I flooded a toilet so I'd have time to see you." You clarify quickly and Wanda has to shake her head and laugh incredulously.

"You're nuts."

"Honestly? Yes. I think I've figured out what was wrong with me over the last weeks. You’re driving me nuts, Wanda Maximoff. I can't stop thinking about you." You retort quickly, not caring about the irregular beating of your pulse, nor the way she blushes heavily. "I need to know when I'm going to see you again."

She looks back into the dressing rooms and can see that Natasha is coming out through the curtain. She approaches you at once to give you one last intense kiss and whispers goodbye on your lips as you part.

With every inch of skin that Wanda touched vibrating and your heart pounding in your chest, you only remember to regulate your powers and return to a disguise a good few minutes after she has disappeared from sight, and hope that no security cameras saw you there.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #heart shaped series #wanda maximoff series #elizabeth olsen x reader

[lenaellsi]

I'm wondering how much of the fandom reaction of "Aziraphale doesn't ACTUALLY want Crowley to be an angel, he just wants to keep him safe/happy!" is because we spent four years between seasons assuming that Aziraphale had already accepted that Heaven and Hell aren't all that different, and that demons and angels aren't inherently good or bad. And it's difficult to let go of that idea in the same way that it's difficult to let go of the idea that they talked their shit out That Night At Crowley's Flat and have been happy ever since. But to actually understand Aziraphale's choice without hiding it behind coffee or lies or secret plans or body swaps or magic tricks or purely romantic intentions, we have to to understand that Aziraphale is still working under an incorrect framework of the world as divided into Cosmic Good and Cosmic Evil.

Because the thing is. Aziraphale does not like that Crowley is a demon. He just doesn't. We can talk about his reasons, but I really don't think that it's a disputable fact at this point. Aziraphale CONSTANTLY talks down to Crowley about the differences between them, and disparages demons in general and Crowley in particular over and over again. I mean, he's obviously just spewing the party line at this point, but he even describes the ultimate triumph of Heaven over Hell as "rather lovely." To Crowley. Where does he think Crowley fits, in that scenario? Is he thinking about it? (He is, surely, given how distressed he is over the danger Crowley is in due to the Arrangement?)

Crowley, to be fair, often says similar things about himself, and hates when Aziraphale calls him things like 'nice.' But as I've mentioned in another post, I think 2.03 makes it all but canon that a lot of that is self-preservation. Hell can't know that he's running around saving children and rescuing people from suicide and poverty, or he'll get dragged down there for decades. Crowley doesn't really think of himself as evil--he's visibly upset during their argument when Aziraphale hits him with "you're the bad guys!" because he thinks Aziraphale knows him better than that.

But instead, Aziraphale makes knee-jerk assumptions about Crowley and his intentions over and over again, including that he's behind the Reign of Terror in Paris and, about two minutes before realizing he's in love with him, that he's working with Nazis. Crowley seems annoyed and hurt both times, and denies it. There's no demonic posturing from him then.

Which makes the Job ep really interesting, right? Because Crowley actively lies and says that he is doing the properly demonic thing, but Aziraphale doesn't buy it. And why doesn't he buy it?

"I know the angel you were."

To Aziraphale, Crowley's kindness stems from the traces of that angel he knew. He thinks Crowley does good in spite of his nature, and not because of who he is as a person, life experiences as a demon very much included. This is because to Aziraphale, Heaven is Good, and all goodness must stem from it.

I've seen people get accused, when making this point, of attacking Aziraphale, or saying that he doesn't love Crowley, which is a ridiculous takeaway from S2. I've never seen a person more obviously in love, or a person more obviously trying to do good in the world. But so much of Aziraphale is tied up in his ability to believe multiple contradictory things at once. (See: the 80 years between "maybe there is something to be said for shades of gray" and "Heaven is the side of truth, of light, of good.") That doesn't make him stupid or ill-intentioned (in fact, he wouldn't need to do the kind of mental gymnastics we see from him if he wasn't clever enough to see through at least some of the bullshit) but it does mean that he's fully capable of loving Crowley while at the same time believing that demons are 'the bad guys.' Solution? Make Crowley an angel. Fix him, fix the bad apples in Heaven, be happy together, eliminate human suffering. Vavoom. Sorted.

Idk man. I'm constantly seeing takes that just...completely discount that Aziraphale really, genuinely, has misunderstood Crowley and the way the world works in his choice to return to Heaven. We can't blame it all on miscommunication. The most honest conversation in the world wouldn't fix this. Aziraphale has to go up there, without Crowley, and learn for the last time that Heaven is not Good, and will never be Good, because there is no Good. Good doesn't come from Heaven, or God, or even Crowley (and I see y'all, putting Crowley on a pedestal, saying Aziraphale wants to remake Heaven in his image--stop it.) Good comes from making the choice, in a very complicated world, to help as best you can, and it comes from love. And that's what Aziraphale will learn in season 3.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #aziraphale #gos2 spoilers #long post #sorry about the paragraphs of meta every couple of days. I'm still unwell about it all. #this will be the last one. maybe. who can say

[ashwhowrites]

Enemies to lovers Eddie Munson x Cheerleader! Reader, maybe some months ago Reader was trying to tell Eddie that she liked him, but Eddie was talking with his friends about how he doesn't like cheerleaders and jocks and that made Reader angry at him bc she thought that he liked talking to her (she was his client) so after that Reader started to act cold towards him, and Eddie did the same with her. One day, they got paired together for a Literature project, and they went to Reader's house to work on that but they only spend the afternoon fighting, a day later they went to Eddie's and they were fighting, again, but then they just stayed in silence and started kissing each other and that's when Reader confesses her feelings for Eddie and tells him that's she heard what he said, and he's like I wasn't talking about you, I liked you too, I still like you, and then they have make up sex (if you're comfortable writing that!) and start their relationship

No smut :/ I'm sorry

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Y/N spent as much time thinking about Eddie as she did talking about Eddie. If she ever wanted to hide the fact she liked him, she couldn't. It was written on her face.

Which is why her friends are sick of her doing nothing to make a move. Chrissy was a girly girl herself, she knew Y/N wanted Eddie to make the move. She wanted Eddie to go after her so she felt wanted. But Chrissy also knew Eddie would never ask out a girl he believed to be out of his league.

After weeks and weeks of Y/N's friends pushing her to ask out Eddie, she was ready to do it.

She tried to shake off her nerves. Her fingertips gripped her textbooks tightly as she walked toward Eddie and his group of friends.

She was a few feet away, close enough to hear him but not close enough for anyone to recognize her.

"You asked my opinion and I gave it. I think asking out Rachel is a disgrace to our kind. She's a cheerleader and friends with all those jocks. Is she going to stand up for you when your ass is being kicked? Nah, I don't think so. Because she's a cheerleader and those are heartless shells."

Y/N felt herself freeze at Eddie's words. Any bit of confidence was washed away as his words traveled down the hall. She knew Eddie didn't like the popular crowd, but she thought he moved past it. She thought she was changing that perspective. Is that all he saw her as? A cheerleader?

Before she heard anything more hurtful, she raced right past.

~~~

"Oh yeah? What about Y/N?" Mike snapped back, ever since his breakup with El, he's had his eyes on someone new. And all he wanted was advice and instead, he pissed off Eddie.

"She's different." Eddie shrugged, in his mind there was no comparison between Y/N and any other girl.

"Because she's yours?" Mike argued.

"He wishes!" Dustin laughed.

"No! Because Y/N has shown to be sweet, kind, and accepting with everyone. She's more than just a cheerleader, but I can't say the rest about the team. Mike, you need to understand some girls are only cheerleaders when the outfit is on, find one like that." Eddie said, smacking down on Mike's shoulder.

~~~

Y/N felt too embarrassed to be near Eddie. She didn't know if this whole time he couldn't stand her. They never hung out outside of deals, maybe he only dealt with her because he had to.

She stopped buying from him and went cold turkey. She didn't bother talking to him in the halls, didn't look in his direction, and acted like he didn't exist.

Eddie noticed the cold shoulder immediately, and it hurt. He didn't understand the sudden change of attitude but he also didn't give it a second thought. Maybe she wasn't as good of a person as he thought.

~~~

Over the next few weeks, they didn't speak to each other. Until they got paired together for a school project. Y/N immediately wanted to beg for someone else but the teacher was strict and didn't handle the backtalk well.

It was awkward, and they both hated that feeling. Eddie sat on her floor, her feet dangling off the bed. She read out loud the book, but his mind was elsewhere. Her room was what he thought it would be, and he adored all the framed photos she had. Her room looked just as sweet as he always thought she was.

"If you aren't going to pay attention, I'll just do it myself." She snapped, and the heavy book slammed shut.

Eddie jumped at the noise but recovered quickly. "Sorry, I was just observing your room." He admitted.

"Well don't. Not like you'll ever be in it again anyway." She snapped again. It hurt her a little to say, a small reminder that they weren't friends and they wouldn't hang out like she wished.

"Yeah, got it." He said back, same snappy tone.

"Look you don't get to have an attitude with me!" She argued she didn't do anything wrong.

"Oh, why? Because we don't get to speak unless it's on your terms? And I'm just supposed to be cool with that? You completely flipped the script on me so yeah, I'm a little pissed!" He argued back. If anyone was allowed to be annoyed, it was him. He was ignored without an explanation.

"Flipped the script? No, what happened was you talked shit behind my back and I finally figured out how you thought of me." She said, her anger leaving as a small amount of sadness settled in her chest.

"Who told you that crap?" Eddie said he felt the want to roll his eyes.

"YOU!" She yelled, she stood up and towered over him. "I heard everything you said to Mike. You went on and on about how cheerleaders are heartless. I can't imagine the other things you said before or after."

Eddie tried to remember what she was talking about, the realization hitting him. He stood up fast, a fast apology on his lips.

"No no no! I did say that yes, but not about you! I would never say those things about you." He tried to grab her hand but she smacked it away.

"Ow" he muttered

"How did you not say that about me? I'm a cheerleader!"

"I know!" He panicked, "but I said so many things after that. You must have walked away or didn't hear me because I explained you were nothing like that."

Y/N felt a part of herself believing him. He sounded so panicked, which meant he was caught or he was trying to prove his innocence and needed her to trust him.

"What did you say?" She asked

"I explained to Mike that the girl he's interested in doesn't care about him. And I knew that because of what you showed me. I see how sweet and caring you are. You're nice to everyone and you don't use your popularity to have power over anyone. You aren't just a cheerleader, you are so much more than that. That's why you are different and that's why I'd never say mean things about you." His words and eyes were pleading for her to believe him. "I'm so sorry you got hurt."

"Well I shouldn't listen to people's conversations," she shrugged, " I appreciate your apology and I accept it. I'm sorry for not talking to you about it. I was hurt because I like you. And I was planning to ask you out when I heard everything." She admitted she turned her head to the floor, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed, "You like me? And like me enough to want to ask me out?" Eddie couldn't believe his ears. He wanted the same thing, obliviously, but he never thought he had the chance.

She gave him a look and he moved on. It was clear she liked him and she gave him an opening.

He moved his feet forward until there wasn't space between them. His eyes searched into hers for a sign, when her eyes flipped down to his lips he got his answer.

He licked his lips nervously, his hand reaching to cup her chin as he leaned in. His heart raced when she leaned in, both closing their eyes in sync.

Her stomach fluttered when she felt his lips. He smiled when he felt her kiss back, her hands slid around to his back. Her palms were flat against his shirt.

They kissed for as long as they could. Whenever one of them went to pull away, they'd drag them right back in.

Eddie couldn't wait to shove this in Mike's face.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson x cheerleader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

[angelsnkisses]

nsfw headcanons - tyler <3

💟 nsfw - mdni 💟

A/N: i haven't actually finished the show, but it's good so far :). definitely a little.. questionable at times, but all good shows are, right? 😭 also idk why my replies are off but it's driving me insane

warnings: softdom!tyler, sub!fem!reader, breeding kink, dubcon, overstimulation, mentions of pregnancy

• no cause this show is WILD, but, disregarding that... can we talk about how tyler definitely has a huge breeding kink? there's no doubt about it.

• hear me out, he fucks you good, like gripping the sheets and seeing stars type of good. so good, in fact, that you're too dumbed out to use your critical thinking skills to make rational decisions in the moment. and as fucked as it is, he uses it to his advantage.

• he'll turn on that loving, gentle voice of his and start rubbing your clit to get your brain all foggy, hitting that divine spot inside you over and over again and turning your brain into susceptible mush.

"there you go, so good for me.. you gonna let me fill you up tonight?"

• he asks so casually, and smiles knowingly when you get all flustered and start shaking your head. he'll lean down and coo quiet pleads and praises at you, his silky voice working hard to convince you to do as he pleases.

"no? it'll feel so good, you wanna feel good?"

"come on, do it for me.. it would make me so happy."

• he knows it's wrong, but the satisfaction that washes over him when you finally whimper out a quiet 'yes' is unreal.

• aside from his tendency to manipulate your frangible little mind, he has other.. interests, if you will. one of those particular interests is overstimulating you until you can't even breathe properly.

• he'll pound you relentlessly, coaxing you through orgasm after orgasm until you're sobbing under him. best believe he has a touch of dacryphilia, because he fucks you even harder when he sees tears stream down your cheeks.

"shhh, just a few more for me. aw, don't cry, baby.. i know, it's okay."

"you don't wanna cum? you were begging for it just a little while ago.."

• after maybe 5 or 6 orgasms, he'll finally stop. not because he needs to, but because you do. he doesn't wanna completely destroy you (though part of him is intrigued to see just how much you can really take).

"you still in there? aw, you poor thing. fucked you dumb, didn't i?"

• he'll pull out slowly, taking his time to watch all his cum spill out of your spent, puffy cunt. you jerk and whine when he pushes it back in with his fingers, shushing you soothingly.

• he'll eventually leave your tortured sex alone, instead focusing on making you feel better. he'll clean you up, or have you lay on his chest so he can rub your back. he'll mumble an occasional praise, his mood elevated at the idea of you finally getting pregnant.

__

A/N: i don't think i've really posted anything like this, i'm nervous 😭. regardless, i hope you enjoyed! sorry it's short :3.

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #culkin cult #tyler the expecting #the expecting #angelsnkisses #mdni

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-two: "The Recurring Nightmare"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You wake from a from a nightmare in the middle of the night.

Or You finally confide a growing fear of yours to Matt.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. You can find the entire list of installments here.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: I can't believe it took so long for us to get an update, but hopefully y'all enjoy this angsty one. Just a heads up, there is a bit of violent imagery in the beginning scene. Who's up for some Second Angst Arc foreshadowing? Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @kezibear

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you squeezed your eyes shut in hopes of blocking out the fluorescent lights that were adding to the pain of your growing headache. Each ding of the elevator as it began to ascend to the top floor of the apartment building only caused the ache to pound harder. 

You'd had a shitty day at the office today working on an article for The Bulletin. You'd spent all afternoon struggling with forming an ending that didn't sound ridiculous and make even you want to gag. And it was all because of Jessica Manning. She'd shown up to work the same story you were, interviewing some of the same people you'd worked hard to get in contact with. On top of that, she had successfully managed to get in your head yet again, making you feel insecure and incompetent when it came to your investigative and writing abilities. 

And of course, as if that wasn't already enough, she'd managed to insult you while making you feel insecure in your relationship with Matt. 

The final ding indicating the elevator had reached the top floor broke through your thoughts and your eyes flew open. Lowering your hand from your nose and back to your side, you stepped off the elevator and began trudging your way down the hallway. As you made your way to the end of it, your hand felt around inside your purse for your keys to the apartment while you tried hard to block out Jessica's voice repeating her insults in your head over and over. Instead, you attempted to picture punching her in the face–as per Katy's suggestion.

Though by the time you'd reached the apartment and fished your keys out of your purse, your stomach was twisting into knots and you felt like crying. It was going to be hard to pretend you were alright when Matt came home from work. And then if you failed at it–which you most likely would with his super senses–he'd find some way to blame himself. Because he always tried to take on all the guilt, blaming himself for your own insecurities when he'd done nothing wrong. 

And that only had you feeling worse. You didn't want to worry Matt. You knew he'd had enough going on with how busy he'd been as Daredevil lately. Your silly little problems didn't even measure up to what he needed to focus on.

No, you'd just have to work on getting over it and getting Jessica's stupid voice out of your head on your own. 

As you slid your key into the lock on the apartment door, you quickly realized the door was already unlocked. For a second you paused, brows knitting together in brief confusion. But then you realized Matt must’ve finished at the office before you had finished at work today. It didn't happen often, but sometimes they had a pretty uneventful day at the firm and Matt would surprise you at home with dinner.

Your stomach twisted tighter into a knot. You thought you'd at least have a half an hour to try to mentally prepare yourself to face him after your encounter with Jessica. But now you'd have to somehow pull yourself together in a matter of seconds so his senses wouldn't pick up on anything. Though truthfully, he'd probably already noticed you and your off mood the moment you'd entered the building with his heightened senses. 

With a heavy sigh, you turned the handle and pushed the door open. You stepped inside, prepared to hear Matt call out and greet you like he usually did whenever you returned home when he was here, but he didn't. Frowning, you turned to shut the door after yourself, wondering where he was–but you stopped when you heard hushed voices.

Eyes narrowing, you tried to focus on the sound coming from down the hall. It sounded like the voices were coming from the living room, but you didn't recognize either of them. Immediately your heart began to beat faster in your chest, your nerves over talking to Matt about your insecurities quickly switching to fear of someone dangerous being inside the apartment.

“...not gonna be causing any problems for us much longer.”

Cautiously you began to make your way down the short entryway hall, walking as quietly as possible on the front part of your feet. You were positive you'd stopped breathing with every step closer that you took towards the voices, your palms beginning to sweat as your hand began to fiddle with your keychain blindly in search of your pepper spray. 

When you finally rounded the corner, you almost dropped your keys entirely. You couldn't completely contain the pained noise that slipped out of your lips at the sight of Matt crumpled in half on one of the dining chairs. The crisp white dress shirt he'd dressed into this morning–the very same one you'd buttoned for him while he flirtatiously teased you in return–was now a rumpled mess stained with bright red spots all over it.

Matt's blood.

“Oh well now, lookie what we have here Mr. Big Shot Vigilante Lawyer!” one of the men called out as he spotted you standing in the entryway. The gun in his hand swung towards you as he continued. “This must be your girl, huh? Guess we're getting two for the price of one today!”

Fear had you frozen to the spot, your eyes shifting from the gun to Matt as his head slowly rose. You audibly gasped at the sight of him, a hand flying up to cover your mouth as tears began to burn at your eyes. His face was battered and bloody, half of it swollen from whatever these men had done to him before you'd shown up. There was blood caked over the entire right side of his face–some dried but most of it glistening bright red in the light. Despite the mess they'd made of his face, you could still see the terror written plain on it as he focused on you across the room.

“Get out!” he warned you, his voice garbled as if his mouth was full of blood. “Go!”

“Matt,” you whispered just loud enough for his ears, shaking your head as the tears began to cloud your vision. “I can't. Can't just leave you.”

His face twisted painfully into a look of sheer despair at your words. 

“What's that she's got in her hand?” the second man called out, taking a step towards you. A loud laugh burst out of him a second later, recognition dawning on his face. He pointed a finger at you as he exclaimed, “She's got pepper spray! Oh, buddy, what's your girl think she's gonna do with pepper spray ?”

You winced as the harsh sound of his laughter once again echoed around the apartment, your hand gripping the canister of pepper spray tighter in your sweaty grasp. Though desperately you wished you had another way to fight them off–an actual weapon, super strength, laser eyes, fucking anything more than the damn pepper spray Matt always insisted you carry. Because what good would it do you right now? You were helpless. Weak. Normal. There was absolutely nothing you could do to save Matt. 

It was that realization which finally had the tears begin to fall.

“That's right, girl,” the first man said, clearly pleased. “Your little superhero ninja boy here can't save you now. He can't even save himself. And there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

“Get outta here!” Matt's slurred voice urged again.

The first man glanced at the second before gesturing his head towards Matt. You stood there still rooted to the spot, scanning the room for anything at all you could use to help him. There was absolutely no way you were about to just turn and run out of here, leaving Matt to surely die at these men's hands. You couldn't possibly do that.

But there wasn't much you could do, either.

In helpless horror you watched as the second man raised the gun in his hand high into the air, moving in what almost felt like slow motion. With a savage force, he swung the butt of it towards Matt's face just as Matt opened his mouth one last time. 

“RUN!” 

Eyes flying wide open in a panic, you were met with nothing but darkness around you. Breathing hard, you tried to place where you were as your eyes darted frantically around the blackness. Your heart was wildly slamming into your ribcage, pounding so violently you swore you could hear your blood pounding in your own ears. 

It took your brain a moment to realize that you were just laying in bed, your body covered in a slight sheen of cold sweat beneath the silk sheets. The familiar and comforting weight of Matt asleep on the bed beside you registered next, his presence almost instantly calming you. Outside of the bedroom windows you heard the faint hum of the mostly asleep city down below, your eyes gradually adjusting to the bit of light from the obnoxious billboard across the street that still filtered in behind the blackout curtains. 

You'd had a nightmare. The same one you'd been having for two weeks now.

Your hands slipped out from beneath the soft sheets as you carefully tried to sit up, desperately attempting to avoid disturbing Matt. You hadn't wanted to bother him any of the times you'd woken from this dream before, embarrassed that it had kept repeatedly bothering you. 

Raising a hand, you ran it across your damp forehead, still trying to orient yourself in the bedroom. A small, dark shape was curled at the end of the bed–Mittens, fast asleep. Trying to take slow, deep breaths, you continued to focus on the safe, familiar space around you. The sound of Matt's faint exhales nearby, the slight patter of rain hitting the windows, the distant sound of a car horn.

This was real.

Movement beside you on the bed caught your attention, your head turning over your shoulder. You heard the rustling of sheets and a frown settled onto your face. You'd been hoping not to bother him, having somehow managed it every other night that you'd had this dream. Though you figured your luck would eventually run out and you'd be forced to discuss this all with him at some point. Because it was Matt and whenever anything was bothering you, he didn't stop digging until he knew exactly what was on your mind.

“Sweetheart?” his sleep-laden voice called through the darkness. 

Your eyelids lowered, well aware he was going to pick up on everything your body was doing now that he was awake. The panicked and alert tone of his voice when he spoke again only proved you right.

“Sweetheart, is everything alright?” he asked. “What's wrong?”

Matt began to quickly push himself upright on the bed beside you, tossing the sheets off of himself in a rush. You shook your head gently, still trying to calm your body despite your unease at the impending conversation. Even though you hadn't meant to wake him, you figured it was no surprise that he had caught onto your distress even in his sleep with how much of a bodily reaction you'd had to the nightmare this time around. It was more of a surprise that you'd never woken him the other nights, honestly. 

“Everything is fine, Matt,” you assured him, still feeling the rapid beating of your heart pounding in your throat. “I'm fine.”

“Your heart is racing,” he pointed out, placing a gentle, comforting hand on your shoulder. “Your blood pressure is elevated and your body feels like it's in a state of panic. What's going on? Did something happen?”

“I just…had a nightmare,” you awkwardly admitted. “That's all.”

“A nightmare?” he asked, confused.

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your forehead again. “Yeah. I've been having the same one for the past couple of weeks,” you confessed. “Ever since…you came home that night. Injured.”

There was a bit of a pause that followed your admission. The air felt suddenly heavier and colder in the dark.

“How come you've never mentioned the nightmares before?” he questioned carefully.

“Because I didn't want to worry you,” you answered. 

Matt's arm slowly slid its way across your back as he draped it around you. Gradually he drew you into his bare chest and you turned, burying your face into the inviting warmth of his skin. He smelled like sweat and the leather-like material from his Daredevil suit. Your favorite smell.

“What's on your mind, sweetheart?” he whispered, a sadness barely hidden in his tone. “And why haven't you said anything to me?”

You shrugged lightly as his other arm wrapped around you, tugging you into a tight embrace. Eventually your own arms carefully wrapped around his waist, your cheek resting against his chest as you drew yourself in closer to him.

“Because it's stupid,” you muttered. “And you've got enough on your mind.”

“Hey,” Matt said firmly, his arms squeezing you briefly, “nothing that's bothering you is stupid. So why don't you tell me what this nightmare is about?”

The image of Matt battered and beaten, helpless and terrified in one of the dining room chairs, flashed through your mind. Your eyes snapped shut instantly, but the image of him so horribly injured was already seared into your mind. Gritting your teeth together, you turned your face and buried it firmly into Matt's chest. Your fingers dug into the muscles along his back, fearful of that mental image becoming a reality. 

“Sweetheart?” Matt prompted gently. 

Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you knew you'd have to tell him. He'd only pry harder the more you tried to avoid answering.

“It's always me coming home from a bad day at work,” you began quietly, face still buried into his chest, “before I realize you're home already. Before me. But there's–there's always these two other men here with you.”

You felt Matt immediately stiffen against you, his body going rigid as his arms firmly held you to himself. But he remained silent, waiting for you to continue. 

“They have guns,” you whispered, a tremor in your voice as wetness dampened your closed lashes. “And you're–you're beaten and covered in blood when I show up. Unable to even fight back, not even in your suit. Then you always tell me to run but I–” 

Your words broke off as you shook your head firmly against his chest. The thought of just leaving him there to die, even in your dreams, was too painful to even imagine. Your heart squirmed in your chest at the very idea of it. And the pain and fear written on his face each time he realizes you won’t leave, knowing what that means for you, only has your heart feeling like it's being crushed in your chest even now.

“I can't–I can't just leave you like that,” you choke out. “But there's nothing I can actually do to help, either.” A sob escaped you, briefly cutting you off before your next words fly out in a rush. “Because all I have is a fucking useless can of pepper spray to fend them off with. Nothing more.”

Matt's hands immediately began to rub soothing patterns along your back, his mouth lowering beside your ear. “Hey, shh, it's okay,” he whispered. “It's okay, it was just a bad dream, that's all.”

You shook your head, tears still pouring down your cheeks. “I know, but it still has me scared, Matt,” you whispered. “Scared of something happening.”

Something like a defeated sigh mixed with a pained groan fell out of him, his mouth still beside your ear. You could feel your chest constrict at the terribly sad noise alone. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. This is all because of me. Because I fucked up all those months ago,” he told you, guilt coating his words. “Because I fucked up and your connection to me–to Daredevil–was discovered. And you were hurt because of me. And now–now you’re terrified of it happening again and it’s–” he paused, exhaling a shuddering breath. “It’s all my fault.”

Before you could even react or respond, his hands were frantically on your face, drawing it away from his chest and turning it up towards his. Even in the dark you could tell there were tears in his eyes. You could hear the emotion in the faint quiver of his voice as he pressed on.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I failed you before,” he earnestly apologized. “But I swear to you, I will never let that happen again. No one will ever hurt you. Not again. I won’t let them. So you don’t have to worry about that. Do you understand? I would tear apart this whole city to keep you safe if I had to.”

The tears only spilled faster from your eyes. Not because of the passion and truth you could hear in his words, but because that wasn't it . That wasn't what was bothering you, not fully. Of course you were afraid of ever encountering a situation again where you ended up in danger or injured–or worse–after what had happened to you before, but what was really bothering you was the danger Matt could find himself in. Or rather, the danger he could find himself in and the fact that you were nothing like him. There was nothing special about you that would help you keep him safe in return. 

You were just…you.

Slowly you shook your head, your eyes still focused on what you could make out of his face in the dark. Very minutely, you saw him tilt his head to the side as if in confusion.

“I know you would, Matty,” you whispered. “But that’s not it.”

“What–what do you mean?” he asked, sounding almost nervous. “What do you mean that’s not it?”

Licking your lips, you tried hard not to feel so incredibly foolish for what you were about to admit. A fear that had been steadily growing in your mind over the past few months.

“I mean, I’m afraid of something happening to you, Matt,” you told him. “That you won’t come home to me some night. Or that you’ll find yourself in a situation you can’t get out of. Or someone will break into our apartment and hurt you. Because what could I do? What could I possibly do to help you? I don’t have special abilities and I can’t even fight. I know basic self-defense, Matt.” You grimaced, as you admitted, “I’m useless. Weak.”

“What?” Matt asked in shock. “Sweetheart, no. You’re not useless, not at all. But you don’t need to have any abilities and you don’t need to be able to fight off the bad guys. That isn’t something you ever need to be concerned with.” His hands slid up from where they’d been resting on your back, firmly grasping your shoulders as he lowered his face towards yours. “I don’t want you to be concerned with that. Because I can take care of myself. It’s not your responsibility to look after me or protect me, alright? I’ll be fine.”

You shook your head, tears still stinging at your eyes. “You can’t promise that, Matt.”

“Okay, no, you’re right,” he amended. “I can’t exactly promise that, but you know I will always do everything in my power to make it back home to you every night. You know I’ve stopped pushing myself too hard and too far because I love you. Because I don’t want you to worry about me. So you don’t need to worry. I know my limits.”

Matt wrapped his arms around your shoulders again, pulling you back into himself in a crushingly tight embrace. You sniffled, once again burying your face back into his bare skin in search of comfort as your fingers dug into his back, holding him tight. Matt’s lips placed a handful of kisses onto the top of your head before he buried his face into your hair.

“It’s my job to look out for you, not the other way around,” he whispered. “Okay? Leave the worrying of that to me.”

Eyes falling closed, you tried hard to fight the tears threatening to spill forth once again. Instead, you tried to focus on the comforting scent of him, your teeth biting into your lower lip to keep it from trembling. 

“Okay,” you breathed out.

“Okay,” he replied, relief in his tone. “Okay, good. Because I’ll keep us both safe. Alright?”

Biting down harder on your bottom lip, all you could manage was a nod in response. But as Matt cradled you in his arms, your own wrapped around him in a desperate vice, you could still see that image of him battered and bloodied in your mind. It lingered there, haunting you.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #fftd #matt murdock series

[laracrofted]

and so it goes

synopsis: bradley accepts maverick's invitation to spend christmas in the mountains, not realizing penny benjamin's hot niece will also be there.

pairings: bradley bradshaw x fem!reader (no y/n)

wc: 4.1K

warnings: an emphatic 18+, minors and ageless accounts dni, swearing, explicit smut, unprotected semi-public sex in a hot tub (writing this made me want to take a cranberry pill, please be safer than these two), thigh riding, dirty talk, a dash of exhibitionism, a sprinkle of praise kink

note: i... can't believe i wrote this. if you read we'd run inside out from the cold, i make a brief reference to bradley spending christmas skiing in the mountains. and somehow, here we now stand!

summoning @theharddeck (thighs) and @bioodforbiood (rooster is being slutty again) and a few people who wanted we'd run inside smut (if this isn't the worst thing you've ever seen, i'm working on that part two, i promise): @blue-aconite @thedroneranger @dhwanishah09 @six-bloodyminutes

“We should probably go inside…” 

…is what Bradley should have said 20 minutes ago when Penny and Maverick turned in for the night, leaving him alone in the outdoor hot tub with an open bottle of champagne and oh yeah, Penny Benjamin’s niece. 

December is frigid cold in the mountains, especially at this altitude, but from the deck, Bradley has a clear and perfect view of the mountains, peaked with snow and ice, glittering in the bluish moonlight. 

He also has a clear and perfect view of you, sitting across from him in a bikini top that barely covers anything at all. Steam rises from the surface of the water, doing precious little to obstruct the sight of your smooth skin, the barest tease of cleavage with your every shuddering breath.

Are you breathing like that on purpose? Bradley wonders, almost accusatory, then feels like a complete asshole. 

You could be having trouble breathing this high in the mountains. You shouldn’t risk altitude sickness, just because Bradley can’t look at your face without drifting down to your chest.

And once again, Bradley could've suggested going inside. 

He didn’t do that, choosing to instead refill his champagne glass, and now Maverick is probably going to let the damn missile take him out next time. He could’ve spent Christmas in San Diego alone. Not risking death at Penny Benjamin’s rented cabin.

He’d met you a few times at the Hard Deck, covering a shift at the bar for your aunt, like a good and dutiful niece. You were damn sweet too, taking orders and serving up drinks with a wide smile and an untouchable brightness in your eyes, even against the rudest patrons who’d had too much to drink.

You would smile all the way to the bell, ringing it without missing a beat, calling the nearest and strongest-looking Navy guys over to throw the asshole out in the sand. 

Hangman was the first one on the team to meet you, which was a little unfortunate for you. You did catch him in Relationship Jake mode when Jake had just started dating another Naval aviator on the team who was way too good for him. He wasn’t as much of an ass as usual. 

Walking into the Hard Deck, dressed in his usual open Hawaiian shirt, Bradley did a full-on double take at the unfamiliar bartender that Hangman was chatting with. You were effusive enough to dim the lights and the noise, drown out the loud music and chatter. He walked closer without even realizing it, drawn in. 

He didn’t catch the whole conversation, only the tail end. 

Where Hangman had said something like, “Aren’t you sweet?” with a scheming edge to his expression, something that the new Hard Deck bartender wouldn’t know to catch, not knowing him like Bradley did.

And with a subtle shake of his head, Hangman tucked it away, buttoned behind his signature smirk, and caught an eavesdropping Bradley around the shoulder.

“Bradshaw! You meet Penny’s niece yet?” 

Hangman shoved him forward, and Bradley stumbled into the bar hard enough to nearly knock the empty glasses from the counter. He turned to glare at the other man, but Jake had already melted in the crowd, no doubt seeking out his girlfriend – and again, too good for him – in the masses. 

You were watching him with raised brows, clearing away the glasses that had nearly shattered in the chaos and wiping down the counter. An expectant look on your face. 

He looked you up and down, like Bradley had been looking anywhere else for the past three minutes straight, and offered you a sheepish smile and a handshake. You met him with a warm smile and slipped your hand into his, telling him your name. 

“Pretty name,” Bradley repeated it, holding your hand for a half second longer than was strictly polite. You looked down at your hands, still joined over the counter, the cutest wrinkle in your forehead. He gave you your hand back, already mourning the contact. “I’m Bradley.” 

You eyed him and asked, “Bradley Bradshaw? What kind of name is that?” with a teasing lilt to your voice, passing him an IPA and opting to linger for a moment, despite the Hard Deck patrons clamoring for your attention on the other side. 

Rested your elbows on the sticky counter and leaned in. 

He nodded a confirmation. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

Women had always complimented him on his hands, wide palms and good fingers, and Bradley made sure to circle the bottle in his hand right in your line of sight, lingering there, not lifting it to his mouth. You watched him the whole time, an expression on your face that was unreadable. Not self-conscious though.

You didn’t seem to care that Bradley noticed. 

“You can call me Bradley.” He traced a knuckle through the condensation on the bottle, watching you watch him, gaze flitting from his face to his hand and back again. “Rooster works too. Hell, I think I’d probably answer to Bradshaw.” 

“Oh, so I can call you anything I like then?” 

Something shifted in your expression, warmed that bright smile into something more knowing, more flirtatious. Look at that, Bradley thought, taking another sip of his beer, fist tight around the glass. Teeth dented your lower lip, and Bradley wanted to reach out and pull your lip from between them. 

He wanted to sink his own into it. 

He opened his mouth to let out his best line when Penny appeared from the back and called your name. You shot him a parting smile, rescuing a few crumbled bills from the counter on your way over, and Bradley was left to watch you go, mind spinning with the possibilities. 

And now, Bradley doesn’t have to imagine the possibilities anymore. 

Sure, Maverick will probably sabotage his snowboard on the Black Diamond tomorrow and make his death look like an unfortunate accident, all in the name of Penny Benjamin, but Bradley is feeling a little daring right now. 

You last all of 10 minutes alone together before Bradley has you in his lap, grinding down on his bare thigh under the bubbling water with the damp fabric of that obscenely small bikini top balled up in his fist. 

And in his defense, Bradley makes a gallant effort for those 10 minutes. 

He really does.

He pulls out all the good conversation starters. Such as…

“Moon looks really cool tonight.” 

He whips that one out around the 2:45 minute mark, after Bradley already finished his champagne and offered the rest to you in the name of being polite and like, a goddamn gentleman. Forgetting that Maverick had taken your glass inside.

You reassured him, “Oh, I don’t need a glass,” and proceeded to pour champagne directly into your open mouth. It bubbled over your parted lips, spilling over the edge of your chin, trickling down your neck and collarbone, and Bradley had to look at the stars overhead and count backwards from 200.

200, 199, 198… You can’t fuck Penny Benjamin’s niece and ruin Christmas, or Maverick will leave you for dead in the wilderness… 197, 196, 195…

And Bradley’s tried and true check out the moon distraction doesn’t work out so well for him either. You can’t see it well from your spot in the hot tub and end up moving next to him to get a better angle, and now, Bradley has a front-row seat to the steam drifting off your skin.

Not your best work there, Bradshaw. 

“So…” Bradley tries again, around the 5:00 minute mark, after finding and losing Orion’s Belt six times. “You’re Penny’s niece, which makes you like… the daughter of her sister, right? That’s… cool.” 

You send him an odd look and don’t respond, closing your eyes and leaning your head back on the edge. Tuning him out. 

He probably deserves that. 

And around the 9:30 minute mark, Bradley has thought too hard about the steam rising from your skin and the flush that is spreading down your torso from the temperature. You get to your knees to look out over the dark blue mountains, and Bradley watches a droplet of moisture run from your shoulder down the length of your spine. 

He can’t get out of the hot tub like this. He’ll need to wait you out. 

It is fine. He can wait. 

He can stay out here all night. 

Less than 30 seconds later, Bradley is digging his thumb into the hinge of your jaw, opening you up to him, licking inside your mouth. You are sticky warm from the steam. A stark contrast from the chill of your lips, cold from the below freezing temperatures. 

He’d seen you sucking on a peppermint stick all evening, twirling it around a spiked hot chocolate, and Bradley can taste the rich chocolate and mint on your tongue. He could probably lick your neck and taste the spilled champagne. 

He wants nothing more than to lift you onto one of the wooden lounge chairs and press his face between your thighs. He wants you to ride him into oblivion and make his last Christmas alive a good one.

Maverick can kill him on New Year's.  

He doesn’t want to risk moving much closer to the still-dark cabin, so Bradley catches you around the waist, pressing and grabbing at any available skin. You make an encouraging noise against his mouth, and Bradley gets bolder, covering your breast with one large palm and anchoring you in place with the other one. 

He bounces his thigh, grinding you down on him at the exact same time, and god-fucking-damn, Bradley could come from that delicious sound alone, as gasping and needy as the hands that cling to his slick shoulders. 

He does it again, soaking in those gorgeous noises. 

Bradley breaks the kiss, hooking a thumb underneath the loose sting of your bikini bottoms that are still on for some fucking reason. You don’t need them anymore. He needs to feel you.

“Get these off,” Bradley whispers against your throat, pressing a hot kiss to the spot below your jaw. A quick taste confirms what Bradley suspected. You taste like champagne and sweat. 

“Take them off then.” You look at him with a challenge in your eyes, a twitch in your lips giving away your amusement. “I’m comfortable right here.” 

And to demonstrate your point, Bradley feels you rock down on his thigh once more, moving your hips without his guidance. He watches you, incredulous and turned on behind comprehension, and as retaliation, Bradley doesn’t bother unknotting the tie. 

He closes his fist around the strings and pulls hard enough to make them snap in two, shoving them to the side. Fabric floats up to the middle of the jacuzzi, joining the untied bikini top. It is damning evidence, and Bradley will need to remember to grab those on their way inside. 

You go still on top of him, and Bradley bites back a smirk. 

“Oh… my god, Bradley. I didn’t bring another swimsuit.” You slap your wet palm against his shoulder, looking about as menacing as Bradley has ever seen you look. Like a little baby kitten with a fluffed tail. “If I can’t use the hot tub for the rest of the trip because of you and your… your caveman hands…” 

“Oh yeah? You seemed to like my caveman hands a minute ago,” Bradley teases, testing his luck to the max.

He grips your thigh in his ‘caveman’ hand, hard enough to leave marks, and yanks you forward. His swim trunks ride low on his hips, so Bradley can feel you against his torso, smooth and warm and spread wide.

“What changed, baby?” 

You shiver, and Bradley sneaks a hand between your bodies, pressing the pad of his thumb right on your clit. Nails dig into his bicep, urging him on, and Bradley smiles again. 

“You still like them, don’t you?” 

“Maybe…” is more of an exhale than an admission. You look at him from under half-lowered lids, mouth slack from the feeling of Bradley gently circling your clit with his fingers. “But… I really did want to use the tub again. It’s, ah…” He sinks an index finger into you without preamble. You take him like a dream, all honey and silk around him. “It’s relaxing.” 

“You need to relax?” 

You nod, and Bradley nibbles at your neck, licking away the drops of champagne that still cling to your skin. He feels buzzed. It is probably just your proximity, the feeling of you on him.

“I’ll help you relax. Sweet thing like you, always looking out for everyone, aren’t you? Always helping everyone. You need someone who’ll be sweet to you too, don’t you, honey?” 

He winds your damp hair around his fingers at the base of your skull, reveling in the way your mouth falls open, the way you clench down around his fingers, absently canting your hips into him. God. He is hard enough to hurt, watching you like this. 

You don’t answer, and Bradley gives your hair a gentle but firm tug.

“Answer me, sweetness. I need to hear you say it.” 

A sharp inhale brings your chest against his, and Bradley can feel your hardened nipples. He’ll get to those later, right now Bradley is too busy watching your face, feeling you flutter around his fingers. 

“Yes.”

“Yes…?” Bradley prompts, capturing your gasp with a crushing kiss against your open mouth. He pulls away, letting your hair flow through his fingers, moving that hand back down to hold tight to your hips. He stills you, ignoring your whimpered protest. “Gotta be more specific than that.” 

You look him right in the eye, despite the embarrassed flush that’s overtaken your cheeks. “Yes, I want you to be… I want you to be sweet to me, want you to help me relax. I want all of it.” 

“Good girl.” 

Bradley pulls away all of his fingers except the one that’s teasing your clit. You give him this sad, mournful look and open your mouth to complain, maybe even to whine, but Bradley slides you back down onto his leg. He slots his firm thigh between yours, bends his knee to push against you, and the only sound that passes your lips is a breathy ‘fuck’ that makes him groan.

“I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ll be sweet to you,” Bradley promises, guiding your hand to the front of his swim trunks. He is so big, straining against the loose fabric. You tug your lip between your teeth. “But I need to get you ready for me. I need you to be good for me. Can you do that?” 

“Yes, I… Tell me how.” 

“I need you to come all over my thigh.”

 

You really shouldn’t let him talk to you like this, shouldn’t be in this position at all, completely naked on the broad thigh of the cute Naval aviator who sometimes smiled and flirted with you at the Hard Deck. 

Actually… You should probably give yourself a little more credit here.

You knew Bradley was interested in you. Had been able to tell from the moment Hangman called him over on the very first night when Bradley had been hovering only a few feet away, obviously listening in. 

He’d smiled at you, all big and unassuming brown eyes that probably got him both in and out of all sorts of trouble. He was built like a brick shithouse, tall and wide and completely, utterly hot. 

Hot enough that when Penny asked you to come on the annual Northern California trip while Amelia opted for a tropical Christmas in Hawaii with Aunt Penny’s ex-husband…

You might have not so subtly asked whether Captain Mitchell had any plans to invite Bradley there for Christmas, accepting the invitation after Penny snorted and informed you that yes, Maverick had asked him. You choose to ignore the knowing undertone of her response. 

You hadn’t been expecting anything in all honestly, more curious about whether Bradley would act any different towards you outside the familiar environment of the Hard Deck. Hoped for a kiss under the nonexistent mistletoe at most. Maybe even a dinner invitation back in San Diego. 

Nothing like this. 

Bradley is still holding you between his hands, a crooked knuckle stroking and teasing at you under the water. It’s… different doing this here, hot water sloshing around your elbows, a fine layer of steam rapidly cooling on your skin in the cold mountain air. You didn’t expect to like it so much.

Snow starts to drift down from above, melting on the surface of the water, and Bradley is looking at you with liquid warmth swimming in his deep brown eyes, an intense concentration on his face.

Right. He asked you a question. 

Not a question. He told you how to do something.

How to be good for him.

Shivers run down your spine at the thought. 

“I think…” You aren’t doing all the much thinking right now to be honest. It is mostly overwhelming arousal and radio static up there right now. “I can do that. I want to do that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

And the corner of Bradley’s mouth kicks up into a self-satisfied smirk. “Better get to work then. Don’t know how long I can stand having you spread open for me and not fuck you, but I’ll wait for you, baby.”

Something about that flips a switch in you, the idea that Bradley is holding himself back from grabbing you and sinking you down on his cock. You pick up your previous pace, rolling your hips forward and down on his thigh. He meets you at your level, working your clit, letting you push against the palm of his hand.

It feels unreal. 

Before Bradley even really gets talking. 

“Look at you, baby,” He hums the words against your neck, littering the skin with open-mouthed kisses, sometimes pausing to suck and bite in the places that could easily be covered with a scarf.

“You’re so fucking sweet, aren’t you? Everyone loves you. Such a sweet little angel, and yet, I’ve got you out here riding my fucking thigh. Someone could come out and see us. You don’t care, do you?” 

You can’t help the clench of your thighs, the too loud moan that bubbles from your lips. He shushes you and continues to torment you with dirty words whispered in your ear, voice deep and rasping. 

Pleasure is building and building. 

You are hot enough to burn.

“Fuck yourself on my thigh, angel,” Bradley instructs, pressing down on your clit. Everything disappears in a streak of white for a moment, and then Bradley comes back into focus, an apparition in the steam, urging you on. “Come for me. Come all over me, and then I’ll fuck you. You want me to fuck you, don’t you, baby?” 

You can’t get the words out, too drunk on the sensation of his hard thigh slotted against you, the perfect friction of it. Feeling more benevolent, Bradley accepts your nod as an answer this time. You can feel him, hard as a rock against your thigh, and in your pleasure drunk state, fumble with the band of his swim trunks to free him. 

It takes a few attempts, and one particularly well-placed thrust from Bradley almost makes you give up. You manage to get him out though, taking him in your hand, thick and heavy, running your thumb over the top of him. 

It’s no small satisfaction that Bradley seems as needy as you right now, as unbalanced, groaning into your shoulder. 

“Come for me,” Bradley repeats, low and warm against your skin.

It doesn’t take much more than those words and a few more strokes, and Bradley has to catch you against his chest, shaking and shuddering around him and over him, miles away from here.

You can barely make out the soothing praise that Bradley mumbles into your damp hairline. Good. Good. So good for me. Did so well for me. He is throbbing in your hand, and as soon as the white-hot pleasure has cooled, Bradley is pulling you back over him, sinking you down on him in one smooth thrust. 

A large hand comes over your mouth to muffle the high-pitched cry that threatens to echo through the damn mountain range, and Bradley’s dark gaze flits between your eyes, waiting for your nod. 

He doesn’t waste much time after that, seeming to realize at the same time as you that time is limited. Riding his thigh might’ve been a spiritual experience. It doesn’t mean that Penny and Maverick aren’t currently sleeping in a cabin less than 15 feet away. 

Sweat drips down his neck as Bradley lifts you up and lowers you back down again, fucking you in deep and unrelenting thrusts, filling you up over and over again. You pulse around him, still sensitive from the aftershocks of that orgasm, and still moving in you, Bradley drops his head back against the edge of the tub, letting out a pained exhale.

“You’re so fucking tight. Taking my cock like a fucking dream. So perfect for me.” 

He hits a spot that makes your toes curl, makes electricity shoot through your entire body. You cling to his chest, pulling at his broad shoulders and insanely muscular arms. Kiss the underside of his jaw, cupping his jaw. 

You’re not even sure Bradley is aware of the words coming out of his mouth right now, eyes screwed shut, thrusting into you with increasing sloppiness, both of you growing closer to the edge. 

“God, baby, I wish I didn’t have to be quiet right now, I want to hear your moans and screams. Want to hear you scream my name.” 

“When I get you back to San Diego, I’m going to keep you in my bed for a whole fucking week, make you come on my tongue and my cock over and over and over.” 

"Bet you'll be so fucking sweet. Can't wait to..."

“Fuck, I think… I’m…” 

He brings up his fingers to pinch at your nipples, to get you there with him, and barely 30 seconds after your second orgasm of the night pitches you forward, Bradley is spilling inside of you, moaning your name. 

Later, Bradley wraps you in a towel, carefully fishing the ruined bikini from the cooling water and grimacing down at the hot tub with his hands on his hips. He picks up the bottle of champagne, weighing it in his hand.

“Do you think if I tell Mav that I spilled champagne in the hot tub and not to use it for the rest of the trip…” Bradley starts, tugging at the towel that sits low on his hips, squinting at the remaining liquid in the bottle. “…that there is any chance he’ll believe me?” 

A smile quirks your lips. “I’d say an even 50-50 split.” 

“Good enough for me,” Bradley says with a shrug and dumps the remaining dribbles of champagne into the tub, tossing the bottle in after it. He looks proud of his work, tugging the cover back into place.

You are both silent on the walk back to the cabin, lost in thought. You are watching the snow that’s started to fall from the sky again, wondering what… all of that meant for the future.

Bradley is gnawing the edge of his lip, probably thinking about the champagne or the slopes tomorrow or…

He loops a naked arm around your waist without a word.

Giddiness warms your chest. 

You clear your throat, trying not to let it show in your voice. You deserve at least a veneer of coolness after letting him fuck you senseless in a hot tub, what with the infection you’re definitely going to get from this.

Worth it. 

“So...” You remember his earlier words, the ones from the heat of the moment that Bradley probably doesn’t even remember saying out loud. “‘When I get you back to San Diego’, huh?” 

He scratches at the back of his neck, and in the dim light, you can make out the softest flush that creeps over his bare chest. How Bradley could be embarrassed now is beyond you. Sheepish is an adorable look on him though. 

“Did… Did I forget to ask you out?”  

“It might’ve slipped through the cracks.” 

“Ah,” Bradley says, looking down at you with bright eyes and color high in his cheeks. Snow catches in his lashes and his mustache. You have the sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss it away. “Well, I’d like to take you out back in San Diego. How’s that sound to you?” 

You stretch up on your toes to kiss him, right there in the snow, dressed in nothing but your towels. He is warm enough for the both of you right now, skimming his palms over your shoulder blades, cupping your nape. 

You give your answer.

“Thought you’d never ask, Bradshaw.” 

(...anyway... thoughts?)

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x reader #rooster x you #laracrofted writes #fic: bradley bradshaw