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navybrat817 · 2 months

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Pairing: Motocross!Steve Rogers x Motocross!Female Reader Summary: You have a crush on Steve Rogers, but you don't think you're his type. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Crush, longing, slight insecurities, swearing, nicknames, Curtis is a good friend, Motocross!Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Finally an intro for Champ and Daisy in our Dialed In AU! Took me how long, @yenzys-lucky-charm ? Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

A 450 rider like Bucky with a lot of wins under his belt, Natasha was serious when she said Steve was one of the best riders in his class.

It was one of the reasons people called him “Champ”, a nickname he wasn’t overly fond of since some of the guys liked to tease him after races where he didn’t place first. It also gave him flashbacks of when he was younger and smaller, virtually ignored or told he wouldn’t excel in anything physically.

With a lot of heart and a late growth spurt, he proved them wrong.

Bucky said once that his nickname should be “Adonis” because of his now statuesque looks and the pit lizards fawning over him or “Golden Boy” because of his success and admiration.

Steve never let any of that get to his head and refused to let the pit lizards distract him. He worked hard to get where he was and continued to give it his all on and off the track every single time.

His determination was one of the many reasons you found yourself drawn to him. He was the kind of rider and person many aspired to be.

Your crush only grew the day you two actually met.

A rider yourself, you earned the nickname “Daisy” thanks to the flowers on your helmet and general sweet demeanor.

The helmet was the very thing Steve complimented you on when he walked by you at your first pro race.

You hadn’t meant to stare when he walked by, but his reputation preceeds him. Clad in red, white, and blue like a patriotic God, his blonde hair sparkled in the sunlight and his eyes looked like the sky on a cloudless day.

The sheer size of him almost made you whimper when he got closer. How a man was able to walk with such confidence and dominance yet still had an air about that said he was humble was a gift.

He even stopped to speak to a few kids who were eager to meet him and you couldn’t stop smiling when one little boy wrapped his arms around his legs in a tight hug.

Who wouldn’t fall for him?

You were certain you still had a dopey smile on your face when he looked your way.

“Beautiful.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine when you realized he was speaking to you, which you tried to blame on pre-race jitters. “Your helmet. It’s beautiful,” he said when you didn’t reply.

You deflated slightly because of course he didn’t think you were beautiful. You were just a rider and not like the girls who flocked to him.

“Oh, thanks,” you croaked, clearing your throat immediately to try and save face. “I like daisies,” you added, mentally kicking yourself for stating the obvious. Why else would they be on your helmet?

The lopsided grin he gave you brought your smile back to your face. “You’re Daisy. Heard good things about you.”

Biting your lip and glancing away briefly, you didn’t catch his gaze following the movement. “You have?” You asked, slightly surprised that your name made the rounds.

“Yeah.” He nodded toward the track. “And I’m eager to see what you do out there.”

Your stomach did a somersault, but you held your head high. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“I doubt you could disappoint anyone,” he quietly spoke, looking over his shoulder when Bucky called out to him. “Gotta go. Good luck out there, Daisy.”

“Thanks, Champ,” you said, shifting back and forth on your feet when he stood up straight and flexed his gloved fingers. Maybe you shouldn’t have used his nickname. “I mean, Steve.”

You couldn’t read his expression, but you felt better when he gave you one more lopsided smile. “Champ sounds nice coming from you,” he said before he walked away.

You tried not to swoon or check out his ass when he went on his way, but Curtis clocked you immediately.

“You might wanna wipe that drool off your chin before your race,” he said, nudging you with his shoulder when you glanced at the ground. “Nervous? Don't be. You’re gonna kick ass out there.”

“Not nervous,” you said, biting your lip again. “He said he heard about me.”

“Yeah. Riders talk, you know that. And the guys saw you practice, so they know you have skills,” he said, sighing when you lifted your head and longingly stared after Steve. “Look, don’t let him distract you.”

“I’m not letting him distract me,” you argued, moving your helmet between your hands. “It’s just nice to get a compliment from such a skilled rider,” you said, especially since a lot of guys had a tendency to ignore you once they knew you loved to race.

Curtis narrowed his eyes. “I’m a skilled rider and I compliment you. I don’t see you walking around with hearts in your eyes and having a little crush on me.”

Your cheeks flamed before you hit his arm. “More like you bust my nonexistent balls. That’s not the same thing,” you said.

He didn’t move an inch when you hit him, the wall of muscle that he was. “Perk of being my friend,” he deadpanned, looking in the direction that Steve went, too. “I’m not one for gossip, but Champ is single.”

You put your helmet on so your friend couldn’t see your face. “Good to know, but I doubt I’m his type,” you said.

Because why would he like you?

“Rogers is a fucking idiot if he doesn’t want a girl like you,” he said sincerely before he hit your helmet with the palm of his hand, the familiar grumpy stare back on his face. “But enough of that shit. Get out there and win your fucking race.”

Which you did.

Steve's heart skipped a beat when you removed your helmet and smiled.

Because the truth was, you were exactly his type.

And he’d sweep you off your feet if you let him.

They're sweet, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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moonit3 · 2 months

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୨⎯ "MISS POPULAR AND MISS NOBODY" ⎯୧

➽ context warnings: yandere female, wlw!, afab! reader, nsfw, reader encourages the yandere behavior, mentioned murder, masturbation (f!), fingering, mentioned stalking, breaking in, yandere stealing personal items from reader,

➽ word count: more than 2.5k

➽ synopsis: a lost sketchbook brings the two most unexpected people into a unexpected relationship.

➽ yandere! loser girl x popular! reader

➽ a/n: sorry for the long wanting, guys. there were a few problems with my college’s website and I almost lost my spot (but luckily i managed to fix it) and also, got a little depressed with penacony (T-T). but here is another collab with @taeee0902 that I really happy to have written it! however, I changed a few things close to the ending since i felt if I wrote more, things would’ve taken a wrong lead (leaving an open ending(?)) and also, i got lazy (sorry for that). but i hope u guys enjoy it! also tell me if there is any mistake as i wrote this in middle of the night.

➽ inside the library, at the one of the darkest corners of the old building, there is a young woman studying on her art. mumbling to herself about putting extra details on it as she struggles to find more ideas to finish her work before the deadline next week. her eyes couldn’t help but start getting tired after she spend an amount of her money on buying energy drinks to keep herself awake for the rest of the day.

➽ a place like the library was supposed to be quiet, somewhere safe to the rest of the loud and rude students go the campus, but not today. it’s seems those popular kids decided to come over and ruin her peace in less thanks five minutes. however her attention towards the art project got better after buying a large cup of coffee, so daisy pay no mind towards those idiots.

➽ the group of popular kids whisper to each other about the weird girl sitting by herself, saying nasty things about her looks and dark circles under her eyes, already imagining how her dormitory might look like full of dirty and smelly. all of them laughing and smiling about daisy, but not you, instead of making fun of her like anyone else wouldn’t do, you just watch the girl working on something behind the piles of books at the table. she looks kinda cute when focusing, with her tongue out of her mouth and the headphones covering her ears to prevent hearing from hearing anyone talking about her looks.

➽ it’s clear there is something on daisy that calls you, she makes you feel weird feelings that you never felt before with anyone else. the voices of your so called friends become muffled inside your head, now you could only hear the faint song coming out of her headphones, making you wonder about the taste in music she has. maybe she enjoy classic music? probably electronic or perhaps a genre that you don’t know the existence of?

➽ your eyes couldn’t move away from her, not when her body keeps moving in rhythm with the songs playing in her headphones as she works at her personal works. your mind keeps telling to step up and talk with her about anything, however you couldn’t, not when your own body isn’t obeying your orders. after hours and hours on her own little world, she packed her things to leave the library and return to her dormitory.

➽ however, she forget a small notebook at the table and when your friends leave to go to a party, you didn’t hesitate to take and put it inside your backpack before finally returning back to the sorority house and preparing yourself to go to bed after a long day of studying. however that didn’t happened.

➽ your fingers traced on the lineart on the cover. it’s feel wrong to see a piece of art without the artist’s permission, but you needed to find a way to contact the owner and luckily, you find something. a phone number and quickly, you called the mysterious girl to ask if tomorrow would be a perfect timing to give her sketchbook back…and as expected, she agreed to meet you up at the library, at the same spot she forget the sketchbook.

➽ when tomorrow arrived, daisy couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed about this whole encounter. sitting an empty bench, her mind is playing tricks on her about the person might never appear and keep her precious sketchbook to themselves—then a more rational part of the mind forces her to calm down, taking deep breaths before opening her eyes to see a figure standing in front of her.

➽ the smell of sweet perfume and the aura of an angel makes daisy realize the person who has her book is no other than mrs. popular girl, the girl who everyone wants to be and the person who everyone wants to kiss. oh no, she can already imagine the ill words you are going to say at her art and so, daisy prepares herself to be massacred by you….but you don’t.

➽ instead, words of kindness came out from your lips. you explained that you’ve taken a look inside her art—feeling guilty of such act, but at the same time, proud that you have found a great artist like her. “i never thought that ive found someone who uses acrylic markers so well as you! and the way you used post-it to cover up some mistakes is your signature? ahhh…is that how people call it?”

➽ every word coming out of your lips makes daisy feel special, for the first time since she remembers, someone has not only treat her art normally (without making fun of it) and for the first time ever, a person haven’t downgraded her as a lower level. she won’t admit, but it’s really cute seeing your cheeks blush when trying to find unique words to describe some of the art inside the sketchbook.

➽ clap! she closes the notebook to look up at your face, lips fully closed and staring down at her pale skin now red of embarrassment. “t-thank you, [name].” damn it! she wasn’t supposed to stutter in front of you. “and there is no problem that you’ve look into my sketchbook. but i need to go, bye!” without hesitating, daisy made her escape and left you standing you at the park. thinking about the unusual nature of daisy.

it’s been days since daisy has met you and still, she wasn’t able to forget about your lovely smile. her mind couldn’t forget the faint feeling of obsession passion growing inside her heart, making her cheeks red of only thinking about your presence.

the pages of the sketchbook are full of art of your face, smiling directly at the artist. post-it covers some more explicit drawing of your body, all filled of bites, scratches and of course, positions of your body in situations she would never speak out loud. it’s wrong to draw someone like this, she knows. however, as much daisy keeps telling herself to stop, she can only continues to draw more of your body like this, imagining what you looks underneath those fancy outfits.

“i’m sorry,” she said to herself, pulling her panty to the side, already touching her clit while thinking about you. “i-i’m sorry, [name]…” the newly feeling of wetness around her genitalia made easy to slick a finger inside, sensing the warmth of her inner walls.

she can’t put more than one finger without tearing the hymen, but it’s already enough to pleasure herself by it. “hmm-“ the juice leaking allows daisy part her clit apart to take a better look of her pussy when staring at the mirror, admiring the juice leaking from it. “[n-name]!”

daisy can already imagine it. having you above her body and giving orders for what to do to make you happy. her mind playing tricks on her whatever her finger reach a new spot to touch, making the whole body curves with moan and whines escaping from the lips.

it’s didn’t took much time for her orgasm to come, leaving fluids on her finger and wetting the white sheets of the bed. her breath is completely gone when laying down at the bed, not wanting to get up and look at herself at the mirror, but something more strong makes her gain enough stronger to walk towards the mirror.

a disheveled hair covering one of her eyes, cheeks completely red and of course, thighs dirty of her cum that haven’t stop dripping from her clit. never in millions years, daisy believed that she would touch herself in an intimate manner like this, specially towards another girl…but now, daisy knows she is capable of doing anything towards [name].

things aren’t going easy to you, not when the most comfortable hoodie of your has gone missing! how are you supposed to rest after a long day of study without wearing your most precious piece of clothing? you even placed it above behind the door to not forget.

“have you searched everywhere?” one of your friends would asked, worried about the smile missing from your face.

“of course i did! i looked everywhere, even under my bed!” you cried, sad that you’ve now to wear some of the guy’s hoodie in a failed attempt to comfort you. “how am i going to sleep in peace? I can’t buy another hoodie, not when that one have so memories of good times.”

your friends stayed quiet, feeling bad when they have no solutions to your problem. all of them thought for a while, wondering if there is a way to solve the mystery.

“wait! what if you are sleeping walking?” one of the girl suggested, bringing everyone’s attention towards her. “your sleeping form probably hide your hoodie someway you can’t find while awake. so why not set your webcam on to caught you?”

the idea was great, but not their suggestion to your sleepwalking. after classes, you set up the webcam camera to let you catch whoever is behind the missing hoodies (and panties, but you omitted this part from them) and now, you’ve just to wait for the mystery person to show up when you went to attend classes.

with you attending classes for the rest of the day, daisy waste no time to raid inside your apartment by the window. her eyes grown bigger when seeing another hoodie with your scent just laying on the bed.

jumping into the mattress, daisy couldn’t resist the smell of your perfume all over the sheets and so, she began sniffing it and moaning your name while hugging one of your pillows, clearing imaging that is you instead of the fluffy pillow.

“[name]…” your scent never leaves her nostrils, not with her body almost melting into your sheets to become one within it. “you change your perfume, didn’t you? now, you smell even more perfect. just like flower in the middle of the springs.”

she wishes to stay inside your apartment forever, watch your life while hiding inside the wardrobe to protect you from the dangerous people who dare to touch you inappropriately. but, she can’t do that. daisy has the goal of graduating, becoming a famous artist to be the breadwinner when she marries you in a soon future.

feeling her body gain extra energy, daisy leaves your bedroom by the window, but not before grabbing a few personal items to her shrine. completely unaware that her actions were recorded by her own object of obsession.

when you return home after a long day of studying, you become surprised to see daisy roaming all over your room. seeing her stealing the dirty underwear from the laundry basket and even laying down at your bed! oh, is that weird?

yes, but your heart speaks otherwise. watching the recording of the loner girl invading your privacy to her own likes and doing all of her perverts acts makes you feel good, something that you never felt to someone else.

she is so pretty when sniffing your belongings! anyone else would find it weird to see someone doing that, but not you—you find daisy quite cute doing it when thing no one is watching… perhaps, will she go even further if you let her steal more of your stuff? you hope so.

since that day, you began leaving the bedroom messier than before. clothes scented by your usual smell are long gone from the wardrobe, the newly used toys that you’ve brought to tease yourself after classes go missing too. you can only imagine what daisy is doing with those presents you have left behind.

➽ with the exams and classes over, a beach party is thrown to celebrate the end of the semester and of course, you were invited and daisy waste no time to followed you around the party, hiding in the shadows to protect you from anyone who dares to hurt you. the black haired girl doesn’t know that you are aware of her presence, making things even more interesting.

➽ daisy admirers your body dancing in the middle of the room, but at the same time, feeling guilty to be looking at you with lust just like the others. deep down, she knows that she is no different from those who dares to look at you like you are some prey to be tasted, however, daisy isn’t the type to let it go of you so easily.

➽ after dancing for a long time, you decided to rest at one of the rooms upstairs and daisy waste no time by following you. inside of the suite, daisy enters the room in silence and scan the interior, simultaneously looking for a place to hide and your whereabouts. despite her eyes looking at each corner, the black haired girl doesn’t can’t find you anywhere. did she imagined you walking here?

➽ before any reaction could take place, daisy found herself ensnared in surprise, arms wrapping around her small body, putting her into an embrace. cheeks fully red when she realize that it’s you who is holding her, feeling your breath behind her neck. is this really happening? this can’t be a dream, daisy is praying for this to be real.

➽ “daisy, daisy, daisy…” she let her guard down, letting you freely take advantage of the situation to hug her body. “i never expected to see you around here. but, i can’t deny that i am really happy to see you here.”

➽ she doesn’t move. her body stay in place when feeling your hands getting down at her black shorts, untying it to let your hand roam free around inside her panty. it’s makes her body squeal when a finger touch the tip of her clitoris, making her almost melt with it.

➽ “hmm—“ before any of her moans could take over the room, your lips meet hers, dragging her into daisy’s first kiss. it’s feel weird, she thinks, but at the same time…it’s better than she ever imagined! she lets you take control over her body, knowing that you have more knowledge than her.

➽ daisy could feel her body get redder and hotter by the instant you push her to the bed, wasting no time to unbutton the plaid shirt to display the cute black bikini and then to remove her bikini bottoms to take a closer look at her cunt. the night haven’t start and she is already dripping.

➽ a smile slowly make to your lips. to think that daisy was probably so overwhelmed by this situation makes you wonder about how aroused she is. “don’t worry, sweetie.” your finger touches her clit, rubbing it against her walls, but not taking too deep to hurt her. “i’m going to be gentle, okay?”

➽ she nodded. “j-just touch me, please—” there is tears coming out of her eyes when a finger of yours manage to touch a soft spot of her inner walls, words are replaced by whimpers. as you continue to pump your two fingers inside her, daisy couldn’t hold her voice back. it didn’t took much to her moans to echoed all over the room and would probably reach downstairs too if the songs aren’t that loud.

➽ a high pitched scream warned about her incoming orgasm. her cum all over your palm when she finally stops squirting, attempting to regain her breath, cheeks full of redness as she musters enough courage to lift her face and meet yours.

➽ her trembling hands move to hold your hips closer to hers, not leaving a space between your bodies when daisy managed to speak. “can w-we continue it? please, i really need you.” the shyness and embarrassment of her face is gone, replaced by obsession and desire. and you are loving it.

➽ you couldn’t be happier seeing daisy right below your body, ready to take anything you have been planning for the past couple of weeks, even if those things could lead to dangerous acts. she is right inside your palm, ready to be played and loved by you only.

➽ “really?” your hips began to move, dirtying your bottoms with daisy’s fluids and making her whine a bit. “if that’s what you want~” playing with her perky chest, a smile make it way to your lips when going down to her lips, leaving a fainted mark of lipstick on her. “then i will make it an unforgettable night for you, daisy.”

@moonit3 writing

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere female #yandere girl #yandere x female reader #yandere female x female reader #yandere wlw #yandere headcanon #yandere headcanons #yandere x female y/n #x female y/n #x female reader #female reader #my oc daisy #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

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ginnsbaker · 7 months

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Bulletproof (5/?)

Part Summary: Daisy's fingers intertwined with yours isn't a sign of a budding romance, but rather the result of a game... The explanation has been long overdue, but in the days since your return, Wanda has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with you.

Chapter word count: 3.2k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still Unresolved Sexual Tension, Still Gay Disasters, Wanda is in denial, So are you

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

Daisy's fingers intertwined with yours isn't a sign of a budding romance, but rather the result of a game.

On the flight back to the compound, you, Daisy, Vision, and Natasha, played a card game to kill time. You and Daisy, unfortunately, were on the losing side. Natasha, with her ever-sly grin and penchant for mischief, came up with a penalty—whichever team lost had to hold hands for the rest of the day.

The explanation has been long overdue, but in the days since your return, Wanda has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with you. Initially, you thought getting out of her way would give her the space she needs after you revealed to her that you willingly participated in her sex dream—something you still constantly beat yourself up over.

But it has become evident that she requires more than just physical distance; she wants you completely out of her life.

On top of this, despite Daisy having moved out to her own room a week after she put in the requisition, your sleep hasn't improved much. Every time you close your eyes, memories flood in: Wanda's voice, her warmth, even her distinct scent, all haunting your dreams just as vividly as they do during your waking hours.

The lack of sleep begins to take its toll, especially during training sessions. You're off your game, your reactions slowed, and your focus wavering. It's hard to stay sharp when your brain feels like it's swimming in a haze.

Natasha, always direct, just told you straight up that you look like hell and that you should get more sleep.

Easier said than done.

One evening, after another training mishap, you finally decide it's time to face the root of your sleeplessness. Clearing matters with Wanda isn't just for your peace of mind now; it's essential for the team's safety.

Taking a deep breath and gathering your thoughts, you make your way to Wanda's quarters. In your hand, a small olive branch: her favorite snacks, hoping it might soften the forthcoming confrontation. As you near her door, the muffled sound of laughter stops you. It's her voice, paired with another's—a voice you don't recognize.

As you inch closer, discreetly peeking into the slightly ajar door, the scene before you sharpens. The unfamiliar man stands closer to Wanda than anyone has in recent memory. Their laughter, her bright eyes, the casual touch of her hand on his arm—it's evident she's enjoying his company.

But it's not just any company, it looks like a date. And to make matters more intimate (and worse), they're headed into her quarters. The man holds a bottle of wine in one hand, suggesting a night in, and she's leading him, her fingers lightly grazing his as they move.

The snacks in your hand suddenly feel out of place, almost childish in the face of the mature, romantic scene unfolding before you. You spin on your heel, a new mission in mind, and beeline straight for Steve's office. Pushing through the door without knocking, you find him hunched over some paperwork.

“Steve,” you start, your voice edged with urgency. “What's the protocol for late-night visitors?”

He looks up, surprised by the sudden interruption, and takes a moment to process your question. “Well,” he begins, scratching his head, “As long as they're not on any criminal or watch lists, they're allowed in the compound.”

“Even this late?”

Steve's eyes dart away from yours for a moment, his cheeks tinting a soft pink. “We're all adults here,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears turning red. “As long as they're... respectful and discreet.”

Feeling the sting of frustration boiling over, you grit your teeth, barely getting out a terse “Fine,” before making your way out of his office.

On the way out, your gaze lands on a bottle of wine perched on a shelf, an apparent relic from a past era given the thick dust on its label. Without a second thought, you snatch it up.

“Hey!” Steve calls out, rising abruptly from his chair. “That's been aging for decades!”

But you're already gone, the echo of your footsteps a testament to your swift departure. Steve stands still for a moment, listening to the diminishing sound. Shaking his head, he mutters an exasperated, “Kids these days,” before turning back to his desk with a sigh.

–

Draining the entire bottle solo does little to coax sleep. Your healing powers, frustratingly, tend to neutralize the effects of intoxication almost immediately.

Still, you appreciate the brief, fleeting buzz. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the shadows morph and play tricks on your eyes. You consider maybe you should've joined Sam on his night flight practices. At least then you'd be physically tired enough to drown out the noise in your head.

Shifting in your bed with a sigh, your thoughts drift to the first time you saw Wanda Maximoff.

Rogers had you cornered, your back on the cold ground, his knee pressing firmly into your chest. The skirmish had been intense, your side versus theirs, and one by one, your allies had been captured or incapacitated. You were the last holdout, defiant to the end.

With Rogers' weight pinning you down, and your arms restrained, you could only tilt your head to the side, ears picking up the sharp, rhythmic clicks of boots against concrete.

Wanda Maximoff made her entrance, and even in your vulnerable position, her presence commanded attention. Those signature boots, the flow of her skirt, the cascade of mahogany hair—all of it painted a picture of power and poise. But it was her eyes that held you—a deep, entrancing gaze that seemed to see right through you.

And now it’s those same eyes that keep you up at night. The same ones that used to lazily open each morning, taking a moment to adjust before locking onto yours, almost lighting up when they did.

And fuck it—you really want to see those eyes right now.

With a sudden surge of boldness, you spring from the bed, with every intention to barge into Wanda’s room and throw out the man from earlier.

But as you violently yank the door open, you're met with the most unexpected sight: Wanda.

She's standing there, fist raised, poised to knock. The proximity is startling. You can sense the faintest heat coming from her, so intimate it's almost intrusive. Her eyes widen in surprise, but you're too entranced to even process it. Your breath hitches, time seems to slow, and a million thoughts race through your mind.

Before any words can leave your lips, she closes the distance, her hands finding your face as she pulls you into a searing kiss.

Thrown off by the intensity of her kiss, you stagger back a few steps. On instinct, your hands slide down to the back of her thighs, lifting her with ease. She responds instantly, her legs wrapping around your waist, her grip on you tightening. The world blurs for a moment as your focus narrows down to the sensation of her against you.

With a swift kick, the door to your room slams shut, and you quickly reach behind to lock it. Your steps falter when the back of your knees hit the bed, causing both of you to tumble onto the soft mattress. The sudden change in elevation doesn't deter Wanda; she swiftly positions herself, straddling your hips, her hands exploring the contours of your face and neck.

Drawn to the warmth of her skin, your lips meander down her throat, eliciting soft sounds with every touch. The moment you nip at her pulse point, a deep moan escapes her, its vibrations going straight to your own core.

The sound causes you to pull back slightly. “Wait, Wanda–”

Wanda's brow furrows in annoyance, her crimson lips parting in a soft pout. “Why are you stopping?” she huffs, her tone sultry but also slightly slurred.

That's when you realize it—the faint but unmistakable scent of alcohol on her breath, the slight glossiness of her eyes, and the way her movements, while passionate, are also a tad uncoordinated.

“Wanda, have you been drinking?”

Her head tilts slightly, as if trying to understand the question, her lips parting in a lopsided smile. “Just a little,” she admits, her fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.

You gently cup her face, thumbing away a stray strand of hair. “We shouldn't do this if you're not sober, Wanda.”

“Me being unconscious didn't stop you before,” she hisses, a dark undertone to her voice. The air in the room suddenly grows thick and heavy. Wanda's words, stinging like a slap.

Your stomach drops, guilt and regret flooding through you. Carefully, you slip from Wanda's hold, swinging your legs off the bed to sit with your back turned to her. That night was something you'd replayed in your mind over and over again, beating yourself up for crossing a line you never should have. The hurt in Wanda's voice only exacerbates the pain.

“Wanda, I—” you start, risking a glance over your shoulder.

“I shouldn't have said that,” Wanda whispers, looking as if she's on the verge of tears. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” you quickly counter, a lump forming in your throat, “You meant that. And you have every right to. It's something we should've confronted a long time ago. Whatever happens next, I'll accept any consequences for my actions.”

Wanda reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder, her voice shaky, “If you're ready, then I'm ready too. I'm not innocent in all of this. I took advantage of the situation as well.”

You shake your head firmly, turning to face her and then grabbing her chin gently, making her eyes meet yours, “No, Wanda. You weren't aware. I was. I knew better. That's on me, not you.”

In response, Wanda dithers, then gently kisses the fingers you have placed under her chin. But she doesn’t stop there. A fire still kindling in her veins, she surges forward to claim your lips once again.

You kiss her back for a fleeting second, getting lost in the softness of her lips. But then you pull back, placing a palm against her chest. “Wanda, you need to sleep. You’re not…We'll talk. I promise, in the morning.”

She sighs, her fight melting away as the weight of the alcohol and exhaustion take over. Relenting, she nods, and you help her get situated under the covers.

You start to arrange some pillows on the floor, intending to make a bed for yourself. But as you're about to lie down, Wanda's sleepy voice stops you.

“Stay with me,” she mumbles. “I've been having trouble sleeping without you. I just... I want you near.”

Drunk Wanda feels like a whole other person, wearing her heart on her sleeve in a way that just makes you want to wrap her up and protect her.

After all that's transpired tonight, you're wary. But seeing her there, curled up and looking so small in that big bed, it's hard to resist. You exhale, "Just for tonight," you murmur, more to yourself than to her.

Climbing into the bed, you maintain a respectful distance at first. But, as minutes tick by, you find Wanda inching closer, until her head is nestled into the crook of your neck. Her warm breath tickles your skin, and you can't help but wrap an arm around her, pulling her close.

With everything that went down tonight, you'd think sleep would be impossible. But with the bed being so comfy and Wanda so close, you feel your eyelids getting heavy. It’s strange how having someone next to you can make things feel a bit better. Even with all that’s happened between you two, Wanda’s still your calm in the storm.

And you hope, deep down, you're that for her too.

The next morning dawns, and you find the space beside you empty.

It's not entirely unexpected.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you notice the other side of the bed is empty. It’s quiet, and the room feels a bit colder than before. Splashing cold water on your face helps you wake up a bit more, but it also makes everything from last night crash back into your mind.

Alright, deep breath. You've got this.

For now, giving Wanda her space feels like the right move. You can't even begin to imagine what's going on in her head. But you–

You've got a pretty clear picture of what you want, and if that means waiting a bit longer for her to figure things out, so be it.

Pulling on some clothes, you decide to bury yourself in work and maybe hit the gym later. A distraction is just what you need right now. But as you leave the room, you can't help but hope that once everything cools down, you and Wanda can finally sort things out.

Whatever that might look like.

The timing couldn't have been worse. Of all the moments for disaster to strike.

The piercing shriek of alarms tears through the compound right before dinner.

It is quickly followed by an earth-shaking rumble.

The compound is under siege, and this isn't a regular assault. It's planned, strategic, and designed for maximum devastation. The ground quivers beneath you as you scramble to your feet.

Missiles rain down from all directions, their impacts causing blinding explosions and sending shockwaves that rattle the building's foundation. Dust and debris cloud the air, limiting visibility. The familiar hum of the building's defenses rises, but it's evident they're struggling against the barrage.

Steve's voice, steady yet urgent, sounds over the intercom. “All hands on deck! Secure the compound. Natasha, Clint, get the personnel out now.”

You grab your gear and rush out, adrenaline surging. The corridors are chaos—agents, staff, and superheroes all trying to restore order while dodging blasts and the intruders now inside.

You take a sharp turn, making a beeline for Wanda's quarters. As you approach, your heart sinks. The area is a mess of crumbled concrete, twisted metal, and shattered ceilings. The sight is gut-wrenching, and a cold dread fills your chest.

“Wanda!” you shout, your voice raw with fear. Debris crunches under your boots as you race towards the wreckage of her room, trying to find any sign of her.

Distant explosions and shouts echo down the corridor, but they're just background noise to the panic tightening in your chest. You start to dig through the rubble, tossing aside chunks of wall and broken furniture.

“Wanda!” you yell again.

Suddenly, a muffled groan reaches your ears, and you zero in on its source. Frantically clearing away the debris, your hands finally find the familiar fabric of her jacket. Pulling with all your might, you manage to free her from the wreckage.

Her face is smudged with dust, a small cut bleeding on her forehead, but her eyes—those eyes you had lost sleep over—flutter open, meeting yours with a mixture of relief and pain.

“Hey,” she coughs weakly, a small smile forming on her lips despite the situation.

As you reach to help her up, she lets out a sharp, agonized scream that stops you dead in your tracks. Your gaze shifts down, and horror sets in as you spot a length of steel rebar protruding from her side, clearly having pierced through her abdomen. Blood seeps around the intrusion, staining her clothes a dark, foreboding shade of crimson.

“Wanda!” The name escapes your lips in a choked whisper, panic overtaking your every thought. Dropping to your knees beside her, your hands hover above the injury, unsure of what to do. Removing the rebar might cause more damage, but leaving it could be just as lethal.

The anguish in Wanda's eyes is almost too much to bear, tears spilling down her face as she clutches weakly at the protruding metal. “I–It hurts,” she manages to gasp out, her voice trembling.

Distant footsteps grow louder, echoing through the shattered hallways. The approach is too rapid, too relentless. Friend or foe, you can't determine. You don’t have the luxury of time to find out.

With urgency mounting, your eyes, stinging with tears of your own, dart around the destroyed corridor, searching for an exit, a hiding spot, any kind of advantage. But every moment counts. “Hold on, Wanda,” you whisper, your voice thick with desperation. “Just hold on.”

But she's weakening fast. You know you need to act, and quickly. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you place one hand above the wound and the other below. “I'm going to pull it out, okay? I need you to stay with me.”

With a nod from Wanda, albeit a weak one, you summon all your strength, both physical and emotional, and in one swift motion, you remove the metal. Blood flows more freely now, and Wanda's scream fills the corridor, echoing off the walls.

Using your powers, you immediately start to heal the wound, the warm glow surrounding your hands as they work their magic on her injured torso. Wanda's once steady heartbeat is now all over the place under your touch.

The process is agonizingly slow, and every second feels like an eternity. You literally feel your powers leaving your body, as you concentrate on focusing all your energy on the gaping hole on Wanda’s stomach. You dig deep, pulling out energy you didn't even know you had. It's like trying to stay afloat when every wave tries to drag you under. But bit by bit, you watch the wound start to close, the bleeding halting, and the raw edges of her skin fusing back together.

Wanda's shaky breaths slowly stabilize, but her complexion remains worryingly pale. By the time you've healed the wound to just a scar, you're on the brink of passing out, every bit of energy sapped from you.

“Y/N…” Wanda weakly squeezes your hand. “You... you saved me again,” she says, her voice a raspy whisper.

Your head leans into hers, and you muster a faint smile. “Always for you,” you whisper back.

You both start leaning in, faces just a few inches away, when–

When suddenly, a sharp pain lances through your chest, quickly followed by another agonizing jolt in your stomach. Not so long ago, you shrugged off a sniper's bullet like it was nothing. But now, these bullets burn, and the shock of not being invincible all the time hits you harder than the actual shots.

Wanda's eyes, previously filled with gratitude, are now wide with horror. The transition from relief to shock to rising fury is evident. Her eyes blaze a menacing shade of red, her powers swelling with her emotions.

“You... you were bulletproof,” she stammers, a trembling hand reaching out to you.

“I thought I was,” you choke out, blood pooling in your mouth and trickling down the side of your lips.

Your strength is fading fast, and everything's starting to go fuzzy. All around, the place is falling apart, but there's this sudden burst of red energy.

Wanda.

She's letting it all out, and the power's intense.

The last thing you hear, right before everything goes black, is Wanda's voice, raw and choked with emotion, screaming your name. “Y/N!”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #daisy johnson

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martybaker · 2 months

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Writing fanfiction be like

‘Haha this isn’t about me, it’s just a fun fantasy scenario I came up with’

And then you open that document again and stare into a mirror

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #funnily enough this isnt about a kink even though it was inspired by me nervously checking if a fic contains any kinky business #outrageous kinky business #before letting my sister read it #only to discover my demi soul splurged all over the pages #oopsie daisies #you know what actually i believe this applies to original fiction as well #also is it wise to post your 4 am thoughts on tumblr dot com

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octoberloved · 19 days

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#my writing #vent #personal #words #writing #feeling alot of emotions right now #trying to comfort myself #lol #incase it isnt obvious #i fucked up big time today #anyways this is #pt1 #poetry #mistake #aka a big oopsie daisy

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starrystevie · 1 year

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based on this headcanon i posted previously!

"what do you mean you've never had a valentine?"

eddie rolls his eyes and swings his arms across his front as if to gesture to his entire being at steve's question.

"consider me flattered that you think all this," he gestures again, "would land me a date at all, but it's not like i even want a valentine in the first place."

they glare at each other as steve picks at his cold diner fries and eddie finishes off his strawberry milkshake. they've landed at a stand still, steve trying to figure out how eddie can experience a real valentine's day, and eddie trying to figure out how to talk steve out of whatever sympathy thing he's planning. he opens his mouth to say something, and before he can get a word out, eddie cuts him off.

"whatever you've got cookin' up in that pretty little head of yours, i want you to stop. i don't want a bullshit pity date on a fake holiday that only puts more money in the hallmark ceo's pockets. forget it."

eddie watches as a grin spreads across steve's face and he knows then and there that there's no way in hell steve will forget it.

it's four days later that eddie is packing what is bound to be the best bowl of his life, feet up on the coffee table and the wizard of oz playing faintly in the background, when he hears a knock at the trailer door. he ignores it with a huff and shakes his curls out of his face, bringing the bowl up to his lips only to be cut off by the knocking once more.

"what?!" eddie yells out. he doesn't want to get up and see who it is. he wants to wallow in the weird liminal space of self-pity and anger about capitalism and smoke weed until the flying monkeys in the movie seem even scarier than they already are. he doesn't want to deal with someone when he feels so crushingly lonely-

"it's me!" steve's voice is muffled through the door. "let me in, munson!"

something vaguely hope-shaped catches in eddie's chest before he pushes it away with a deep breath and a shake to clear his head. "open the door yourself, lazy. it's unlocked."

he hears something hit the door, a loud thump that he thinks might be steve kicking the door, and then hears the door handle rattle for a few seconds before steve clearly gives up with a groan.

"come on, a little help here?"

"this better be fucking worth it," he grumbles under his breath. eddie rolls his eyes and set the pipe down on the coffee table next to his pbr with a huff. "fine, fine, i'm coming hold your horses."

he doesn't really know what he is expecting, but steve with his arms wrapped around a bouquet of daisies, a too-big heart shaped box of chocolates, a stuffed bear and a card is at the bottom of the list. he's smiling that smile, the one that eddie takes a mental picture of and files into the steve-shaped folder in his memory every time he sees it, and he has on a stupidly charming button up shirt to go along with it all.

"what." eddie says blankly, the cold february air making him shiver as it hits his bare arms. steve thrusts the gifts towards him with an even brighter smile that has his eyes crinkling and eddie's heart thumping painfully in his chest.

"be my valentine?" steve breathes out and eddie has half a mind to pinch himself.

"steve, i don't-"

"nope," steve responds and pushes past eddie to get into the warmth of the trailer. "you don't get to say no or tell me it's stupid or that today's only a money grab for the corporate elite or whatever-"

eddie balks as steve beelines to the kitchenette to pull out a large glass to put the flowers in. "it is, though."

"-we're going to sit and order a pizza and eat these stupid, over-priced chocolates for dessert, and you're going to like it."

there's butterflies and knots and something that's too close to love fluttering around in his stomach, so eddie sits down on the edge of the arm of the couch and watches as steve finishes adjusting the bouquet.

"daisies?" eddie asks after a beat of silence.

steve beams. "they're your birth flower so i thought..."

dorothy's in the background saying something about not being in kansas and eddie feels the same.

this is all as foreign to him as tin men and scarecrows and wicked witches would be. he's never had anyone, let alone someone like steve fucking harrington, barge into his house and demand a date. he's never wanted anyone to demand a date out of him, especially on valentine's day of all days. he sees steve reach for a phone book and start searching for a pizza delivery number to call and it all feels right in a way that it probably shouldn't.

"are you fucking with me?" eddie asks. his voice feels small.

steve looks up, face smoothing out from determination to something softer, and puts the phone back in the cradle. he hesitates before grabbing the card and teddy bear, this fuzzy brown thing that's holding a heart that says 'i love you beary much', and hands them to eddie.

"not in the slightest," he tells eddie. with a wave of his hand, steve motions for eddie to open the card before pulling his hand up to his mouth to bite at his thumbnail.

the front of the card is simple, just some hearts with a 'be mine' in a fancy script, but it has eddie's breath catching anyway. it's a real card with real stupid hearts and real meaning behind it and it forces him to pause before he can open the rest. he's too cowardly to admit that he's afraid of whatever it could say.

"open it," steve says like it's the easiest thing in the world and eddie pulls his eyes away from the front of the card to see how steve is staring at the paper like it's going to burst into flames. "but don't read it out loud. please."

it's an easy request to follow. with the card open, eddie glances down to see only a few short sentences written and yet it still hits him like an arrow through his goddamn heart.

you're going to think this is a joke, the card starts, but i promise it's not. it's not pity, either. it's just some crazy little thing called love. be my valentine? xo, steve.

eddie can feel how big his eyes are, wide as dinner plates, as he looks between the card and steve who probably won't be hungry for pizza after he finishes chewing off his thumb out of nerves. a laugh sneaks out in a gust of wind through his nose and it has steve wincing despite himself, which has eddie rushing into action.

"you mean it?" he asks, wrapping his hands around steve's shoulders. their eyes meet and steve looks as scared as eddie feels as he nods with a watery laugh of his own.

"yeah, i mean it. you haven't had a valentine and what better way to start than with a harrington that is absolutely nutty over you?"

the tin man is the background singing something about having a heart while eddie's beats out of his chest as steve connects their lips in a soft kiss. and eddie might be against valentine's day, against capitalism and the mass-produced niceties that it brings to the everyday consumer, but if steve keeps pressing into him like this, it might just become his favorite holiday yet.

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gyulovly · 1 year

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WALL SEX WITH YEONJUN?!?!?

drunken desires;

pairing: non established rs!yeonjun x f!reader

genre: smut w/ lil to no plot (a gyulovly speciality;;)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied consent, fingering, oral (f!rec), creampie, wall sex in a public bathroom at a club ଘ(*ˊᵕˋ)੭ ♡‧₊˚

notes: ANON LOVE TYY FOR UR WONDERFUL PATIENCE now please enjoy this lil drabble as i work on final edits for jjunies fic ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

feedback is very much appreciated ><

yeonjuns impatient lips are on yours the second the door locks. an intoxicating taste of hennessy lingers in a lustful kiss, savouring your sweet whimpers nipping at your bottom lip in an inclosed stall. music outside barely registers with his body pressed against yours pinning you to the wall, hands clinging to his shoulders.

skirt hiked around your waist, one hand eagerly works up your thighs the other wrap around your waist. slipping his knee between your legs he pries them apart applying pressure against your clothed cunt. you whine at the touch breaking the kiss, arousal pooling at your core. yeonjun groans, pushing your panties to the side easily slipping two fingers past your sleek folds.

“fuck you’re so wet.”

yeonjuns lustful gaze meets yours wanting nothing more than to burry his entire length inside your cunt. he watches intently the way your face scrunches up in pleasure as he curls his fingers upward, fucking his digits into your hole quickly adding a third stretching you out.

whining at the intrusion, you immediately clench around his deft fingers.

“you like the way my fingers stretch you out?” he rasps, sinking them further only to pull out and roughly fuck them back in at an unfathomable pace.

his words hardly register, legs barely holding you up, body falling limp against the wall his other arm keeping you in place. yeonjun knows youre close from the way your hips meet his brutal pace.

a string of incoherent babbles follows your high as you cum hard around his fingers. drunk on lust yeonjun puts them in his mouth moaning at your taste. you whine at the sight, watching him lick his digits clean.

yeonjuns gaze never leaves yours as he drops between your thighs, burying his face in your cunny. you muffle a long cry gripping on nothing for support, he eagerly laps at your folds up to your sensitive nub. he moans against your clit, shooting vibrations throughout your body, you buck at the feeling, slowly fucking yourself against his face.

“that’s so hot” he mumbles, meeting your pace fucking you with his tongue, intoxicated by the way you roll your hips against his face using his nose to apply pressure on your clit.

“jjunie…” you cry unable to stand any longer, legs beginning to close around his head. yeonjuns quick to keep your thighs apart, propping one leg above his shoulders. you’re close again, and he knows it. yeonjun laps relentless at your folds until you come for a second time. kissing your cunny gently he pulls away slowly standing at his full height.

barely able to keep it together, you buckle attempting to stand on your own. yeonjun has a firm grasp on your waist. he turns you around, chest now flush against the wall and undoes his belt pulling his hard length out from pants.

yeonjun groans at the sight of you, aligning his thick cock at your entrance quickly sinking himself into you inch by inch. you whine at the burning stretch of his length splitting you apart until he bottoms out completely. he curses under his breath before pulling out half way and roughly slamming into you over and over again, setting a brutal pace chasing his high.

blaring music outside is sure to mask the string of lewd moans and sounds of slapping skin that quickly fill the bathroom. you sob as yeonjun pulls your hips harshly against his, one final thrust and he’s emptying himself inside you. you clench around his length milking him of his release.

yeonjun pulls out, slowly registering whose cunny is on full display for him. hole gapping at nothing, he watches as his cum spills out of your cunt. you whimper at the feeling of his seeds slipping down your thighs coating the tiled floor in his essence.

“yeonjun…” you mewl for your best friend unable to stand any longer.

what the fuck did he just do.

#thoughts thoughts thoughts? i wasnt expecting to write this much losjdjsj #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader #txt smut #💌 daisy inbox #anon asks <3 #— daisys thoughts #yeonjun <3

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ministarfruit · 2 months

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day 21: fantasy ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

#minifemslashfeb2024 #indie games #the moon looks beautiful tonight #tmlbt #tmlbt violet #tmlbt rose #tmlbt daisy #iykyk I guess! PLAY MY FRIENDS' GAMEE!!!!#IT'S SUCH A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE VN #if nobody got me I know space yuri got me #no but real talk. cetacity make great stuff and you guys should definitely check it out!!!#the writing is SO immaculate WE LOVE TO SEE IT #got my yuris out early today so I can go pass out bye bye

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f4irydaydreams · 2 years

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eddie finding you asleep in his room

a/n inspired by this post:) friends to lovers has me in a chokehold. the ending kinda sucks but i tried

there was always an unspoken bond between you and eddie munson. the two of you had been joined at the hip ever since eddie lent you his ac/dc tape in middle school when he found you crying over your broken bowie cassette on the field. “it’s not the same but it’s good music! you should give it a go”.

the two of you became the pair of unlikely friends. you went on to join the cheer team and he became known as the school freak. despite your different endeavors you always stood by him. every time the basketball boys were making fun of eddie you always stood up for him.

you both grew extremely close over the years. there were lingering stares and soft touches shared between you that made people question the status of your friendship. little dustin henderson would always point out eddie’s heart eyes for you and your friends robin and steve were convinced the two of you were secretly dating.

sure you spend every friday night watching movies on his couch unconsciously cuddling. and he would pick and drop you around everywhere. and you would constantly doodle on his pretty hands. but friends do that too right?

either way you were both too afraid to burst your little bubble by sharing your secret feelings for each other. it was easier this way.

since you both had busy schedules it was very common for eddie to sneak into your bedroom at night and spend time with you.

tonight you were feeling extremely restless. your anxiety was at an all time high and stress with your parents and school was piling up. you were waiting for eddie to show up hoping to get your mind off things.

you were simply lying on your bed wearing a simple tank and some sleep shorts. your headphones were blasting the new metallica album as you tried to drown out your thoughts.

then it hit you– he wanted to finish the big campaign today. he mentioned that they would run late. it was getting pretty late and you were sure eddie wasn’t showing up soon.

you looked out the window longingly and decided to fuck it. you threw you walkman on the bed and carefully climbed out your window. it took longer than usual since you took your bike but you were soon at standing outside of eddie’s trailer. you had a spare set of keys so you let yourself in.

following the familiar steps you made your way into eddie’s room. the thick scent of his cologne, weed and leather filled your nose. the trailer was cold and empty you suddenly felt very cold in the little clothes you were wearing.

you grabbed one of his over sized band t-shirts and put it on. it was big on you and comforting but you were still cold. the minute your head hit his pillow and you snuggled into his sheets your eyelids felt heavy.

you were so very tired and restless. the minute you felt sleep tug your body you decided to give in.

when eddie walked into his room after his long and very intense hellfire campaign the last thing he expected to see is you snuggled into his sheets sleeping in his clothes. he felt like his heart grew three sizes as he stared at you.

seeing you on his bed in his shirt was a sight for sore eyes. he thought looked absolutely beautiful, all wrapped up in his bed in his clothes.

you must’ve been exhausted because you didn’t feel his presence in the room. he placed a soft kiss on your head and left the room to get changed.

now in his sweats, eddie slowly crawled into the bed with you. you stirred as you felt the a dip in the bed. you subconsciously reached out and felt eddie’s warm body beside you.

too tired to form coherent thoughts you mumble a soft “missed you” as you snuggled into his chest.

slightly hesitating at first eddie wrapped his arm around you holding you close.

“yeah? me too. sorry i’m so late sweetheart”

“s’okay eds”

“you came all the way here to see me?”

he slowly started to stroke your hair as he spoke. you were practically purring in his arms.

“was feeling anxious”

“i’m sorry i didn’t come over tonight. m’right here now gonna let you go”

a comfortable silence filled the air. you’d think that being this close to each other would make you nervous but the two of you never felt more at ease.

“you know i really love you eddie”

“i love you too sweet girl”

even in your fatigued states, you heard him. you spent years leaving things unsaid maybe tomorrow you’ll have the courage to open up your heart.

— thank you for reading! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

#daisy writes 🤍#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader comfort #eddie munson x reader cute #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things x reader #x reader

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dollkisses05 · 2 months

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This is too fucking real

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kisses4kaia · 3 months

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based on this .. hehehehehehehehehe also corio is very joe goldberg in this one. (dedicated to my baby 🤍. @casualhedonists)

coriolanus snow had many a screw loose, and you were not oblivious to that fact.

the thing about power-hungry psychopaths, is they are aware that their greed will never be fulfilled if they reveal their true intentions at the jump. coriolanus snow was dangerously good at playing the game, and he was not used to losing. you had almost let it go over your head, the red-like-blood hued flags, but something inside you had signaled, more like alarmingly blared, that something was very, very wrong with the boy you thought loved you.

and so, on a storming and unbecoming night, you packed up your whole life, leaving behind your people and all that was familiar, and you moved to district 4 and set up residence on the beach. you’d met a man, a gentle, caring, fisherman. no, he could not afford to buy you diamonds, but he could string organic pearls on a chain and that was enough. you ate all the fish your heart could ever desire and you let the sun kiss your once pale skin; which was due to the constant cover of clouds and gloomy mist in the capitol. you were content with your little life, truly, up until you received word your mother was sick and needed her next of kin to help her sort the affairs that would allow her to move peacefully onto the afterlife that awaited her.

the trip was short, but every second of it was spent with a worry for your mother gnawing at your heart, and apprehension to see a certain white-as-snow haired boy. you’d brushed off all thoughts, and figured since the capitol was a big city, the chances of you seeing him were slim—especially considering you’d seen in the newspaper that he was making a name for himself in the political world of panem. he most likely was much to busy to care or even become aware of your returning.

you were wrong. the second you stepped through the gates of panem’s state of the capitol, you felt eyes on you. even after checking over your shoulders and finding nothing but stone architecture on display all over the city, the uneasiness of it all still twisted your gut.

nonetheless, you spent your time in the city of lights and glamour as intended, caring for your mother until she succumbed to a painless, peaceful, death. you saw to the funeral details with a heavy heart, and it was there you felt your heart drop to your toes. the man you’d spent so many years away from, standing in all his haughty glory. his ultramarine, icy, eyes containing nothing but a crazed longing within them. he’d stood across the cemetery in a long, black, fleece, trenchcoat. his hair was no longer a mess of ruddy, gold, curls, but now a styled as a contained, important, slick back—hauntingly, he resembled a ghost, and in a way, he was. a ghost of your past, the scariest one. his eyes glued onto yours as the pastor spoke a few words in honor of your late mother, and you had to swallow your fear for what would follow after the ceremony.

the second the final ‘amen’ left father glenndon’s lips, you turned on your heels, whispering a quiet goodbye to your the soil your mother laid beneath and made a break for it. he was so tall, legs so long and graceful, he caught up with you within a moment. as his cold, ring cluttered, fingers brace the sides of your arms, forcing you to a halt against the tallest stone grave in all of the graveyard, obscuring you from anybody’s view—which only fed your terror—you had to focus on your breathing so as to not let fearful tears slip from your eyes. “get your hands off of me,” your voice was shaky, because you knew just how unpredictable he could be and right now, all that you knew for a fact was that he wasn’t above tearing apart your life right here if you made the single wrong move. he did have the money, influence, and power for it, after all. coriolanus’ voice was sickeningly sweet, gentle, akin to your man back home. “hey, hey, i won’t hurt you, i promise. just wanna talk, that’s it, hm?” his hands move from your shoulders to your face, caressing his thumb against your tear-stained cheek. you shake your head, to deny the request and to get the feeling of his skin off of yours. “no, no. please, coriolanus, let me go home. i have a fiancée, who loves me and-“ your rambling is cut short but a wide-eyed, almost concerned, interjection from him. “he doesn’t love you like i do! i would kill for you, do you understand? he wouldn’t go to any lengths necessary to keep you safe—can’t you see that? i mean, there isn’t a line in the world that i wouldn’t cross for you! i’m not mad, i forgive you for leaving, i know you were just scared, just wish you talked to me, is all. please, dove, come back to the capitol. i haven’t been able to manage since you disappeared. can’t live without you, dove, i won’t,” you wince at the nickname, not having heard it since you left. “i can’t. i have a life in four, snow. i can’t just leave,”

there’s a pained flinch at the use of his last name, having been so used to your sweet, little, pet names you once used just for him. you probably call your fisherman back home those things now, and that thought made his blood boil more than any other. suddenly, almost as if stepping into a role, a character, his eyes deepen, like a bottomless pool of sorrow. “you didn’t seem to think so all those years ago,”

his devastating voice, his despaired, tragically blue, eyes distorted your judgement, and all of a sudden, he wasn’t coriolanus snow anymore. he was corio, your corio.

somehow, in some weird, twisted, round-a-bout way, that’s how you ended up here, writhing on his fingers, his venom-slick sweet nothings spilling into your ears as praises as you come undone on his hands. then on his tongue. and finally, after he’d spent so long giving himself orgasms with only the memory of you spurring him, you’d unraveled on his cock.

and he knew, he had you. he knew, baby came home.

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 !#i would hate it if my finger accidentally slipped and tapped the post button ! 🙈#woopsy daisy ! 🤭#corio angel 🪽★#kaia writes coriolanus #young coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus x you #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #tbosas smut #tbosas #thg smut #tom blyth smut #tom blyth

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riality-check · 11 months

Text

tw for mentions of substance abuse (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7)

ao3

Steve Harrington has been awake for fifty four hours. With luck, he'll be able to eke out another eighteen. Three days seems to be the sweet spot, even if he only makes it there half the time and, of that half, it only works half the time.

It's better than nothing.

Maybe four days is the sweet spot. Ninety six is close to one hundred, and that seems like a good omen.

Omens don't really matter though. What matters is staying awake.

So, Steve chugs his coffee and walks into the conference room. Coffee isn't enough, not nearly, but it'll do until he gets desperate enough to take something.

He really does try to only take them when he's desperate. It's easier that way, to just do it when he feels like he needs to rather than measuring dosages and remembering times. Hours start to blur around hour forty of being awake.

He walks in, sits down in the chair closest to the door, and is met with a withering glare from Eddie Munson.

Listen. Steve isn't happy about this either, but at least he doesn't look like he stepped in dog shit on the way here. Then again, Steve doesn't have the luxury of ever looking truly unhappy.

Eddie is a rock star. Mean is part of his brand, while mean is the antithesis to Steve's.

Whatever.

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie says, still staring at him, but Steve knows he's not who he's asking.

"He's the best person for the job," Chrissy, Eddie's manager, says.

"We don't need him."

Someone taps Steve's left shoulder. He turns to see Jeff, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, give him a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Steve," he says, and Steve shakes his proffered hand.

"Happy to help," he says, and it's only half a lie.

The drummer and the bassist - Steve would probably be able to remember their names if he wasn't so exhausted - wave their hellos from a few seats away.

"Hi, Steve," Chrissy says.

He takes another swig of his coffee and gives her a little wave in response.

"We don't need a pop singer to write lyrics for us," Eddie says, still not letting this go.

"Yes, you do," Steve says. He sets his coffee cup down on the table and opens the folder he brought with him. "I read through the lyrics of every one of your songs."

"You didn't even listen to them?"

"Would have taken too much time."

That's a lie. Listening, even with the lengthy guitar solos, probably would have taken less time. But Steve needs something to fill the hours when he's supposed to be asleep, and reading, that slow process with its ample, awakening frustration, is the perfect thing.

"You became so much less interesting after your first album," he says. "Every one of your songs talks about the same thing. Conquering evil, killing demons, blah blah blah."

"That's what's in right now," Eddie snaps.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches the drummer and Chrissy make the same motion. They pinch the bridges of their noses, clearly frustrated.

Steve sees why Chrissy wanted to talk to him.

"It is," he concedes. "But I also read the lyrics of every song by the bands with top ten hits. They don't talk about it nearly as much. They sing about other stuff. And they don't use an F major chord in every one of their songs."

"We don't-"

"We kinda do, Eddie," the bassist pipes up. "I'm a little sick of playing F."

Eddie takes a breath. Steve takes the opportunity to take a pill.

He found a way to make it less obvious for people who have something to say about it. Steve will take one from his pocket, yawn, cover his mouth, and swallow it dry. Easy peasy. They don't notice, he doesn't have to deal with people who don't get it making comments.

Except when he does, this time, Eddie narrows his eyes. Like he knows what he's doing.

Steve doesn't like that look.

"Have you read my stuff?" He won't ask if Eddie has listened to any of it. He knows the answer is no, if he keeps bringing up genre like that really means anything.

Eddie doesn't respond. He keeps those narrowed eyes trained on Steve and stays silent.

"Didn't think so," he says, and he slides over the thick stack of papers Robin stapled together for him last night. "Here's everything. Read it. Tell me if you like it. I'm only helping you if you give a shit. This goes two ways, and I don't want to waste my time if you think I'm wasting yours."

Eddie doesn't take the stack, but the drummer, sitting next to him, tugs them closer. "Thanks."

"Let me know tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jeff says, eyebrows raised.

Steve forgets that most people don't actually take advantage of their twenty four hours.

"End of the week," he says instead, and he relaxes when Jeff does.

The drummer starts flipping through the pages while the bassist looks over his shoulder.

"Need anything else from me?" Steve asks Chrissy.

"I don't think so," she says. "I'll call you back to set up a time for Saturday."

He's amazed by the fact that someone as sweet as her works with someone as pretentious as Eddie.

"Sounds good," he says, and he walks out, trying to ignore the feeling of Eddie's eyes on him as he goes through the door.

It only halfway works.

The pill should kick in soon, within a half hour, maybe shorter because of the coffee. Maybe he'll write something. Maybe he'll work on the piano melody he's been tinkering with for the past week. Maybe he'll read the latest book Robin picked up from the library, something interesting enough to be worth the frustration of the moving letters, something that will still fill the time.

He'll make it to seventy two hours. Then he'll crash because his body is a worthless piece of shit, and he hopes this is the half of the time when he doesn't have any goddamn nightmares.

Maybe he should pop another pill, just in case.

#ria writes #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #corroded coffin #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie #steddie ficlet #can you tell i just finished daisy jones and the six?#anyway it gave me worms #so enjoy #pop star steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #dja au

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ginnsbaker · 8 months

Text

Bulletproof (4/?)

Part Summary: There's a new recruit who seems to have taken a liking to you. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, Gay disasters

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Part Five | Series Masterlist

The newest recruit, Daisy Johnson, seems to have taken a liking to you.

At least, that's what Wanda Maximoff has observed since Daisy's inclusion earlier this week.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda constantly catches the newbie stealing glances at you during training, meals, and even debriefing sessions. It's not that she keeps tabs on you or anything, but she can't help but notice when you catch someone’s attention, especially when that someone seems to be nearly everywhere you are.

In every training session, Wanda notes Daisy choosing to partner up with you or standing close by during briefings. Even in the more relaxed moments within the compound, Daisy seems irresistibly drawn to you. Wanda doesn't miss how Daisy occasionally throws prolonged glances your way, or how she laughs a tad too enthusiastically at something you say.

And it doesn't help that you and she walk on eggshells around each other since your confession in your old cell.

Neither of you has made any attempts to talk to the other again. Not even a glance, as if pretending the other doesn't exist will make that fateful night disappear. But for Wanda, the more she tries to push it out of her mind, the more sharply it edges back in, refusing to be forgotten.

She can't help but wonder: Was it wrong of her to move like that in her sleep? And were you out of line for not waking her up right away?

And more importantly: Were you so repulsed by it that you chose a prison cell over sharing her bed?

All these questions keep swimming in her mind, to the point where she has considered going to whoever handles this sort of stuff at the compound—kind of like an HR Department, but for Avengers. Perhaps a course on understanding boundaries might help you both move past this and start anew.

But then again, addressing it means dealing with it, and right now, just avoiding the whole mess seems so much easier.

As Wanda turns a corner in one of the compound's sprawling hallways, her eyes catch sight of you and Daisy. You’re both laughing, heads thrown back, not a care in the world. Wanda's eyes involuntarily narrow at the sight, taking note of the negligible distance between you two. Daisy's hand is resting lightly on your arm, fingers dancing along the fabric of your shirt as she emphasizes a point in her story.

Wanda tries to walk past nonchalantly, yet can't seem to dispel the feelings that bubble up each time she sees you with Daisy.

It's maddening. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

But they aren't.

And she does.

Wanda's patience is tested to its limits one Saturday afternoon.

Tasked with joining Sam to whip up dinner for the team's weekly movie night, she's diligently chopping vegetables in the expansive kitchen when Daisy sidles up to her.

“Hey, uh, Wanda, right?” Daisy begins, a casual tone to her voice.

Wanda doesn’t even look up as she answers, “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something about Y/N?”

Wanda's grip on the knife tightens just a fraction, her posture stiffening. “I think it’s better if you ask Vision–he monitors all of us even more closely than the cameras we have everywhere.”

As the words leave Wanda's mouth, Vision, who’s been quietly tinkering with a device on the other side of the kitchen, looks up suddenly, his usually stoic face showing a hint of surprise.

“I assure you, I do no such thing,” he starts, his tone a touch defensive. “Monitoring everyone is not part of my programming or my personal interests.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Sure, Vis. Everyone needs a hobby, right?”

Vision clears his throat, looking somewhat flustered, “It is not a 'hobby' of mine.”

Wanda can't help but smirk slightly at Vision's discomfort, her attention briefly diverted from the awkwardness with Daisy. “It's just a joke, Vision. Relax.”

He gives a curt nod, turning his attention back to the device in his hand, though he remains noticeably quiet.

Daisy chuckles lightly, but her curiosity remains unsated. “Anyway, back to Y/N?” She prompts, looking expectantly at Wanda. “Steve mentioned that if anyone on the team knows Y/N best, it'd be you, considering you two shared a room.”

Fucking Steve.

Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She finally glances up to meet Daisy's eyes, her expression guarded. “What do you want to know?”

“Is Y/N... you know, single? And what do you think of them?”

Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her eyes sharpening immediately. She places the knife down on the countertop with more force than necessary. “Why do you ask?”

Sam whistles softly, making it obvious he's eavesdropping. “Damn, getting intense over here,” he comments with a grin, making no effort to hide his amusement.

Daisy shoots him an exasperated look, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Trying to have a conversation here, Wilson.”

Ignoring Sam's teasing, Wanda presses, “I just want to know why you're asking.”

Daisy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We've been talking a lot, and I was just... curious.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chimes in, “Curious or interested?"

Daisy rolls her eyes. "Nosy much?"

Wanda reaches for the shredder and starts grating all the remaining vegetables rather aggressively.

Sam laughs before lifting the spatula to his lips to sample the soup he’s making. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

“Why don't you focus on your soup, Sam?” Wanda retorts, though her eyes never leave her task.

Sam smirks, catching the hint of jealousy in Wanda's tone, and decides to push just a little further. “You know, Wanda, if you have something to say about Y/N, now's the time.”

Wanda's eyes flash red for a brief moment. Sam holds his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

Daisy looks between them in confusion.

Taking a moment, Wanda sets the shredder aside and faces Daisy squarely. “Y/N almost risked their life to save mine. If you're looking for a testament to their character, well, actions like that are rare to come by.”

“And as for Y/N’s relationship status,” she continues, a bit reluctantly, “I believe they're single.”

Daisy's gaze becomes gentle, a dreamy quality entering her eyes. “That's... truly heroic,” she whispers, almost to herself. Wanda feels a sudden urge to throw up.

She then flashes a grateful smile at Wanda. “Thanks, Wanda. That means a lot coming from you.”

Wanda merely nods before clearing her throat. “Well, now that that's settled, could someone pass the salt?”

It’s Sam who hands it over, but not before saying, “Try not to add too much. We wouldn't want dinner to be as salty as some people's moods.”

Tony is, unsurprisingly, first in line, eagerly eyeing the roasted vegetables. “If the taste is half as good as the smell, we’re in for a treat tonight.”

Steve chuckles, replying, “I think we can trust Wanda and Sam's culinary skills by now.”

Natasha and Clint are engrossed in a deep conversation about an upcoming mission, while Bruce discusses some new upgrades with Tony. Vision, for his part, is explaining to Peter the intricacies of using Wanda's food processor.

As the chatter continues, Wanda moves to retrieve the centerpiece of the dinner: a golden-brown roasted chicken. She feels everyone's eyes on her, awaiting the moment the chicken will land on the table. However, her gaze is involuntarily drawn to the table where she sees you and Daisy sitting next to each other, laughing about something.

In that split second of distraction, her fingers graze the scalding metal rack of the oven. A sharp hiss escapes her lips, the sudden pain evident on her face. Dropping the oven mitts, she mutters a quick “Excuse me” and dashes off to the nearest bathroom, intending to run the burnt area under cold water.

You notice her quick exit and, after a brief moment of hesitation, quietly follow her. As you near the bathroom, the sound of running water reaches your ears.

Without knocking, you enter. Wanda is cradling her hand, trying to soothe the burn.

Your voice is soft with concern when you speak, “Wanda? Let me help.”

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away from the water, her eyes widening as she registers your arrival. “I’m fine,” she snaps, her posture tensing further. Water drips from her fingers onto the porcelain sink.

You take a hesitant step forward, your intent clear. “I can heal it. Just let me—”

“I said I'm fine,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. “Sometimes it's good to feel pain, you know, heal the natural way. Not everything needs a... quick fix.” She glances pointedly at you, an obvious jab at your abilities.

Your eyes narrow slightly at her comment, but you keep your emotions in check. “It's not about the quick fix, Wanda. It's about helping someone in pain, even if that someone is stubbornly pushing everyone away.”

She sighs, her defenses visibly waning. “Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be out there with Daisy?”

“What’s Daisy got to do with any of this?”

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. Even if she has an answer ready, she's not sure she'd want to voice it.

With a sharp exhale, your frustration bubbles over.

“Fine,” you say tersely, pointing at her burned hand. “Let it scar then. See if I care.”

Moving swiftly, you leave the bathroom without waiting for her response.

Wanda stays there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to steady herself. When she finally decides to rejoin the team for dinner, she notices the empty spot beside Daisy. You're gone, probably to your room.

Regret coils in her stomach. She didn’t mean for things to escalate like that, especially when all you were trying to do was help.

She hasn't felt this anxious in a long time.

It reminds her of the days after she lost everything that truly mattered.

Checking that everyone is probably asleep, Wanda takes a deep breath and heads towards your room. Her mind races, trying to figure out what to say, how to apologize.

She stops in front of your room and then gently raps on the door, listening intently for any sign of movement inside. “Y/N?” she calls out hesitantly. She doesn't expect the door to open immediately, and when it does, it's not you who answers.

Instead, Daisy stands there, looking a little startled too.

“You…” Wanda hisses slowly before she can catch herself.

Daisy quickly registers Wanda's reaction and raises her hands in a placating manner. “Oh, right. Sorry, this must be weird. My apartment had a plumbing issue, a flood actually. Since I'm joining the team permanently, I made a request for a new room. But until that's sorted, Y/N offered me theirs.”

Wanda's insides churn with a jealousy she can't quite place, but she masks it swiftly, painting on a polite smile. “And where's Y/N now?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

Daisy bites her lip, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “They're asleep,” she admits. Stepping aside, she reveals you, nestled in a makeshift bed on the floor, blankets arranged around you for some semblance of comfort.

Wanda's eyes soften at the sight of you, but her heart also tightens in anger. You've given up your bed, your comfort, for Daisy. You’re doing for someone else what she’s done for you. It feels like an invasion of something she thought she exclusively shared with you.

Daisy shifts, catching Wanda's stare. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” she explains, a bit embarrassed. “Kept saying it's fine and that I should take the bed.”

Wanda just nods, a tightness in her voice. “Sounds like them, alright.”

Trying to ease the tension, Daisy adds, “Y/N always talks about you, you know. In a good way. Maybe you two should just... chat.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a little surprised. “They do?”

Daisy chuckles. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Night."

“Night,” Wanda murmurs, still looking at you.

Once Daisy’s gone, Wanda hesitates. Part of her wants to barge in, shake you awake, and have that long overdue talk. Instead, she absentmindedly touches the burn on her hand, its sting a reminder of how you tried to help her earlier. It's jarring to think that you, even after avoiding each other for days, were ready to heal her.

And damn, it hurts. Not the burn, but the realization of how much she misses you.

Wanda doesn’t get any chances to talk to you for the next several days because you–along with Natasha, Daisy and Vision are called away to a mission.

Each day you’re away, Wanda feels the weight of anxiety pressing down on her chest. She can’t help but worry, replaying every worst-case scenario in her mind. She catches herself multiple times pacing by the control room, asking for updates, or staring out at the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to return.

When word finally arrives that the quinjet is en route back to the compound, Wanda finds herself in the hangar before she’s even consciously made the decision to be there. Steve stands next to her, his face betraying his own relief. A few other team members have gathered too, all awaiting the return of their comrades.

The roar of the quinjet’s engines fills the air as it makes its descent. As the ramp lowers, Wanda's eyes scan the disembarking figures, and they lock onto yours. You look a little worn, a fresh bruise marring your cheek—oddly enough, one you've chosen not to heal. But beyond that, you seem okay.

Her heart swells with relief.

You seem to pause for a second, looking genuinely shocked to see Wanda amongst those waiting. For a moment, your eyes lock. She offers a tentative smile, full of hope, and it seems you're about to approach her. But then, as you step further out of the quinjet, Daisy appears at your side. The way she comfortably intertwines her fingers with yours sends a sharp pang through Wanda's heart and her smile falters.

Steve claps his hands together, attempting to reign in the team's focus. “Alright, debrief. How did it go?”

Natasha, with a deadpan expression, shoots back, “Could’ve gone smoother if you’d packed me a flask, Rogers.”

Steve smirks, shaking his head. “Alright, Romanoff. Just don’t make us wait too long.”

As you approach Wanda, your expression gives away nothing. “Hey,” you murmur, voice neutral. But Wanda’s eyes have darted down to where your hand is connected with Daisy's. Her eyes harden, and when she meets your gaze, they’ve become unreceptive.

Misreading the tightening of Wanda's features as coldness, your frown deepens. You'd thought some time apart might've helped ease the strain between you two, but guess not.

Just as you're about to say something to her–maybe an explanation as to why you’re holding Daisy’s hand–Daisy gives a playful tug on your hand, breaking the moment. “Come on,” she chirps. “Let's head in. I heard there's pizza, and I intend to eat more slices than you.”

You allow Daisy to pull you along, throwing one last glance at Wanda over your shoulder, wishing she'd say something–anything.

But Wanda's back is already turned to you. Her posture rigid, fists clenched at her sides, the knuckles going white. In that moment, Wanda is making a silent vow to herself, one of emotional self-preservation.

She walks away, her heels clicking against the ground with each firm and decisive step. Deep down, the walls she'd slowly been dismantling brick by brick in the face of a potential future with you were being hastily reconstructed.

She’s survived worse things.

Of course, she’ll survive you.

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mxltifxnd0m · 4 months

Text

𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗟𝗔 𝗩𝗦 𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦

»——•——«»——•——«

Summary: You and Stiles can’t choose a couples costume

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x fem! Reader, Scott McCall x platonic fem! Reader

Words: 1.6K

»——•——«»——•——«

Warnings: no use of y/n, fluff, language, suggestive, spicy, implied smut, BUT NO SMUT, kinda a college au!

A/N: This was intended to be released in October, but I could not figure out how to finish it for my life. But hey, better late than never, am I right? Anyway I had no clue that Han and Leia’s ship name was Scoundress, but the more you know. Also, it is my first time writing for Stiles!

not beta read but YOLO

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

»——•——«»——•——«

"I don't know why you insist we should be Anakin and Padme! We would fit Leia and Han more for Halloween." Stiles whispered harshly, not looking up from the notebook that he was scribbling in.

You roll your eyes at him, "What are you talking about? I said we could do either, but I'd prefer if we were Anakin and Padme." You whisper to him. His head snaps up to protest, but a chair scrapes along the carpeted floor and interrupts Stiles.

"There you guys are! I was wondering where you were." Scott says a little too loud, and the people at the other tables surrounding you and Stiles give Scott a dirty look.

"Scott, I know you don't visit the library often, but we typically use our inside voices." You whisper as he sits down next to Stiles. Scott shoots you a glare.

"Anyways, I disagree. We should be Leia and Han, and that's final." You can see that Stiles is done with the conversation.

You squint suspiciously at your boyfriend, "You just want to see me in Leia's slave outfit from ROTJ, don't you?" You can see a red flush creep up Stiles's face and the tips of his ear as he stammers, trying to defend himself before giving up and returning to his notes. You chuckled under your breath to avoid disturbing the other students.

Scott looks between the two of you, confused, "What are you guys even talking about?"

"We are trying to figure out what costume we will wear to the party your frat is hosting." You explain, your voice low, "But we are split between two costumes. I want us to be Anakin and Padme, but Stiles-" He snaps up at the call of his name, focusing on the conversation, "-wants us to be Leia and Han." You glare at Stiles.

"I thought Luke and Leia were together?" Scott says cluelessly. Both you and Stiles groan loudly at Scott's words. A girl from a nearby table glares at you and shushes you. You apologize quietly and turn your gaze to Scott.

"We've gone over this before Scott. Luke and Leia are siblings, and Han and Leia are together. Do you just forget the movies as soon as we watch them?" Stiles asked exasperatedly.

"No, I tend to fall asleep halfway through the marathons," Scott says guiltily as he scratches the back of his neck. Stiles closes his eyes and uses his hand to rub his face frustratedly. Stiles murmured something under his breath, and Scott's face screwed up into an offended expression.

"I heard that."

"Yeah, no shit, you did. I'm the one who said it for your little werewolf ears to hear." Stiles scoffed quietly at Scott.

Scott goes to retort, but you snap your fingers twice to get their attention. "As much as I would love to see the two of you bicker, we all know how loud you guys get when you do, and I don't fancy getting kicked out of the library." You smile sardonically at them. They roll their eyes at you but yelp in pain as you lean over the table and tug their ears.

"Could you guys be quiet? Some people are studying." The girl from earlier whispered firmly to you guys.

You wince at her tone, "Sorry, we're leaving now." You whispered. You glared at Scott and Stiles and started to pack up your things to leave the library. Stiles scrambled to pack his things, and the two boys followed you outside the library.

Stiles wraps an arm around your shoulder as you walk through the quad. You thread your fingers through his hand, and he squeezes your hand three times. The annoyed expression melted off your face, and a smile replaced it. You take a quick glance at your phone, checking the time.

Your eyes widen, "Shit! I have to go! My class starts in 10 minutes." You untangle yourself, "Our discussion isn't over." You tell Stiles before separating yourself from him, pecking his cheek, and waving goodbye at the both of them as you speed walk to your class.

»——•——«»——•——«

The sound of a keyboard clacking echoes through your silent bedroom. You're hunched over your laptop on your bed as you work on one of your papers for your English class. Lofi beats play quietly in your headphones as you read through your paper for the final time before returning to it tomorrow to edit it. A knock at your bedroom door catches your attention.

"Yeah, what's up?" You say to your roommate as she peaks her head into your room.

"You have a visitor." She says with a knowing smirk on her face.

You roll your eyes at her, smiling, "Tell him he's actually banned from the apartment, then let him in." You instruct as you remove your headphones and stretch your back from your hunched position.

She nods and closes your door before leaving. You can hear the voice of your roommate and Stiles's voice talking lowly in the apartment's entryway. You hear a scoff from Stiles and footsteps quickly entering the apartment and heading toward your room. He burst through your door, pointing at you.

"You are so mean, you know that?" Stiles says with a slight pout on his face. He removed his backpack and toed off his shoes to leave near your door. He stands in the doorframe for a moment before you see a mischievous glint passes through his eye, and you catch it.

"Stiles." You say his name warningly.

He sends you an innocent smile before quickly running towards you and jumping onto your bed. You yelp loudly, closing your laptop and moving it out of the way of Stiles's landing. He lands on top of you, effectively pinning you to the bed. You can feel Stiles's chest move from his giggling fit as you try to squirm from underneath him. You give up after trying to push him off of you and thread your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. He relaxes on top of you, settling his total weight on you. After a few minutes, he eventually rolls off you and sits on your bed.

"Any reason as to why you're at my apartment?" You ask him as you sit up and shift until your back rests against your headboard. You go to grab your laptop, but it's quickly moved from out of your reach, and you turn to glare at your boyfriend.

"Oh, don't give me that look, you know what that does to me babe." Stiles sarcastically as he moves your laptop to your desk.

"Besides, I'm here to present my argument as to why we should be Han and Leia for Halloween and not Anakin and Padme." Stiles moves closer to you and boops your nose after he finishes his sentence. You scrunch your nose at his actions and shake your head at him.

"Nope, not going to hear it."

He groans loudly, "I knew I shouldn't have asked you out, you prefer the prequels over the originals." He flops down on your bed, his head landing on your lap as his legs dangle over the side of the bed.

"Is that your way of saying that we should break up?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

He shot up from your lap, "NO! Absolutely not. You're like the woman of my dreams. I'd be an idiot if I broke up with you. Especially with the amount of shit we went through together in high school. I actually had dreams about marrying you, so-" His hands wave wildly as he begins to ramble. You roll your eyes at him and grab his chin to kiss his mouth to shut him up. He immediately shuts up and melts into the kiss. You peck his lips before pulling away.

"You're such a dork." You smile at Stiles.

"You're dating this dork."

"Yeah, maybe Lydia was right. I am out of your league." You joke, and a noise of offense comes from Stiles. You chuckle at his pouty expression and peck his lips.

"I'm kidding babe." You say as you pull away. You move around the bed to straddle him, your thighs on either of his hips, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you rest your arms on his shoulders.

"How about we make a compromise? We go as Anakin and Padme this year, and then we can go as Han and Leia next Halloween." Stiles opens his mouth to respond, but you quickly put a finger in front of his lips.

"I wasn't done, and to sweeten the deal, I'll wear Leia's slave outfit underneath both costumes." You lean closer to Stiles, "How does that sound." You whisper seductively in his ear and plant a kiss underneath it before pulling back to see his whiskey-colored eyes darkening slightly with desire. His hands tighten around your waist before flipping the two of you around, you landing on your back. At the same time, Stiles settles in between your open legs and hovering above you.

"It doesn't sound fair, but if you wear the outfit often then I'll let it slide." He says lowly, lowering his face closer to yours.

"Deal." You say breathily, your lips brushing his as you speak.

"Deal." He says before smashing his lips against yours passionately. Your hands begin to wander and tug at each other's clothes. The room slowly grows hot and fills with low groans and whines coming from both of you. After you finished, you guys showered, went out to get the costumes, and tried them on when you returned to the apartment.

Let's just say the slave outfit came off as soon as you put it on.

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