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amisunderstoodgoddess · 6 months

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The Hunt

(final part here)

Rating: Explicit +18

Summary: When the creature you fear so much manages to escape containment, will he show you any mercy or take you without any regret?

Author's note: I intend to make this story with just two chapters. This is the first, the second will soon be available. Hope you like it!

English is not my first language.

'ALERT: Specimen 375-6 is out of containment.

It's not training. All search and capture units were activated.

ALERT: Specimen 375-6 out of containment.'

You swallow hard as you read the warning message on your phone, the words falling over your body like a truck of bricks.

He had escaped.

The creature you knew and didn't know.

It was yet another top-secret government item, another non-human biological material captured and kept for research.

He stands out from the others, of course.

With his height, intimidating physique, and obvious intelligence, but you never actually approached his cell, only catching brief glimpses from afar as you did your job collecting and saving data from the scientists' research in the system.

But you always felt something strange in the rare moments you needed to approach the cell block he was in.

He kept to the back, using the shadows to stay hidden. And yet there was one thing that caught your attention, regardless of how dark the place was.

His eyes.

Two orange spheres, standing out like beacons in the night.

He remained basically the same every time you entered that part of the building. Sitting on the floor with his legs half bent and his wrists firmly restrained by chains resting on his knees, you couldn't make out the color of his scaly skin or his features in general, but the color of those eyes shone like neon lights in the darkness of the cell.

He looked at you, every time.

It was disturbingly intense. There were no blinking eyelids or shifting gazes, he stared at you with unwavering focus from the moment you entered the lab until the moment you left. His eyes…they shone with intelligence and superiority. Like he's just there because he wants to be there, not because he was captured. He owned everything he laid eyes on. The rational part of your brain screamed, 'Look away! Run away!' but those eyes seemed to want to capture your soul with each encounter.

All your co-workers had noticed the strange fixation that the creature seemed to have on you, but you always denied it, diverting the subject while saying it was just their imagination.

Deep down you knew it wasn't.

You saw the way his unsettling gaze settled on your form, felt the shiver run down your spine at his gaze and yet - even now, you could still feel that warm buzz inside at the memory of his burning gaze locked on you.

You could admit that it wasn't healthy to feel any level of curiosity towards a murderous monster who was obsessed with you. It was scary.

Your only consolation was that he was tightly contained with the best technologies the government could dispose of.

But he always seemed very calm to you, as if he were above all that. In a confident and almost arrogant way, in the way that only people who have a coldly calculated plan are.

Now he was free.

And you had a horrible feeling that you knew exactly who he was going after.

You quickly walk down the street towards your house. Your heart beats fast, the gentle breeze brushes your warm skin and your loose hair. The canopy of trees above and the few lights along the main path cast their shadow in the opposite direction as you walk faster and faster.

At the end of the street, your eyes notice movement, something large and slow, moving behind a row of parked cars. It's not completely unusual for pedestrians to be out so late - after all, you're here, right? - but your stomach drops a little, very consciously. Something instinctive warning you that it is smart to be afraid.

By the time your trajectory takes you past the line of dark vehicles, the street is once again empty and you allow the hairs on the back of your neck to rise with relief. It was probably just some insomniac suburbanite, taking out the trash or smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk.

Rows of closed windows stare at you blankly as you pass by, colonial houses with sagging porches and overgrown backyards, the residents of the peaceful neighborhood sleeping soundly within the comfort of their homes.

A noise breaks the silence: a loud, prolonged rumble, followed by an inhuman whine, an undeniably animal sound.

There's a single lamp behind you that puts an enormous silhouette into sharp relief, but you can still easily see his solid, dangerous structure.

Your knees threaten to give way, your throat burns as you try to take a deep breath, fear leaves you numb and clumsy in exactly the least desired way at the moment. You don't think, not really, you just act. Getting to the house across the street is like running a marathon, and raising your fists to knock on the door, swing the doorknob, requires a huge effort against the adrenaline that makes your hands shake uncontrollably. "Please help me!", your voice is hoarse, your throat is tight, it's not loud enough, no matter how much you want to scream - it's like you're trapped in a nightmare where no one can hear your screams for help. "Let me in, please, I-"

The door swings open under the weight of your fists, and you almost fall to your knees at the abrupt movement. You don't have time to think, to weigh whether this would be the smartest choice compared to the others, you don't know if he's clinging to your back or if there's still a safe distance between the two of you -

You just enter.

---

The realization of the terrible mistake you made dawns on you in the space of a few minutes of panting breaths.

The living room is empty, strangely enough, not that you really have time to think about it. A staircase appears in your field of vision, and your panicked animal brain sends you toward it, taking two steps at a time, crossing a long landing and climbing to a second floor, holding on to the railing like a wooden board salvation. "Someone please!" You manage to scream, "Please, someone! I'm being followed, call the police!"

The police couldn't help you, and if you were thinking clearly you would know that. No one, not even the army, could help you against this thing.

Yet there is no voice responding, no shuffling human movement, no clicking light. And then you see the paint cans, the tarp, the door off its hinges and against the opposite wall.

This house is under construction.

Nobody. No lights. Without help.

Spinning on your heel, you stagger back toward the stairs. But there is no more time. The door you left ajar in your moment of despair lets in a pale beam of moonlight through the unfinished wooden floor of the foyer, and you watch in mute horror as a shape fills it - huge, so tall that he has to lower his head past the doorframe, a brick wall of an alien assassin wearing a metallic mask. The soulless black holes of the visor, poor excuses for eyes, stare back at you.

Alone, in an empty and unfamiliar house. Your heart pounds in your chest, bile rising in your throat - you're trapped.

You know it. And he knows it too.

The creature walks with slow and determined steps towards the end of the stairs. You briefly, wildly consider waiting until he reaches the landing and then throwing yourself off the balcony. You can survive.

The thought makes you feel like a panicked rat, chewing on its own leg to get out of the trap.

Of course there's also the possibility that you'll break every bone in your body and die from sheer stupidity - which may be preferable to death by those sharp claws on his massive hands, but at least the latter you'll be able to escape. If you can keep your wits and your legs under you, you might be able to outwit the Predator. Evade the trap.

You almost want to laugh at your own delusions of salvation.

Your unsteady feet drag back without your eyes leaving him, but with every slow step you take back he takes one towards the stairs. The silver rays of the moon bathing his reptilian-looking skin, highlighting his entire body dyed in a singular tone of obsidian, with some lighter variations on the abdomen and in some internal points. Thick, long tendrils of 'hair' flow around the mask and over his broad shoulders, adorned with gold and silver metal beads. One of his hands - oh, huge and with long, sharp black claws - seems to want to reach out towards you, but the creature holds back for some reason, preferring to continue with the strange war of glances.

It seems that in his escape from the laboratory he recovered some of his things: in addition to the mask, he wore the wrist gauntlets, the net that covered his body, the strange piece of cloth wrapped around his hips decorated with bones and skulls, and the metallic protectors on the shins. The metallic chestplate and combi-stick weren't visible, you can't tell if he managed to recover it or not.

Regardless, he was infinitely more frightening now that you can see him outside of containment; big and broad, a solid wall of defined muscles. But it was his posture that unnerved you. The roll of his shoulders, the tension in his arms. The almost imperceptible flex of his calf muscles, as if he was preparing to jump - just waiting for a movement from you to attack.

He reaches out, this time to his own face, grabbing the metal there. Air pressure is released when the metal mask is removed.

You hold your breath.

His face was lighter than the rest of his body, a slightly grayish tone with some black streaks mixing with the dreadlock-like hair on his head, a few black barbs framing the sides of his face and along his elongated forehead. There were, of course, those flaming eyes you already knew. Instead of lips, he had four folded jaws with long teeth at the tip of each of them. Inside those jaws, you could see more of his teeth, smaller but more numerous and frighteningly sharp.

He moved his jaws as he climbed the stairs with purposeful slowness, his massive size making the stairs creak, strange clicks and rumbles emerging from his mouth.

You gasped in response to his face, shaky and scared, your backward steps continuing until your back hit the wall.

End of the line.

If you ran you would have to turn your back on him, and you couldn't do that. Never turn your back on a predator, everyone knew this rule.

It was as if you were in a horror movie or a nightmare, where you could only watch without any reaction as the monster approached. The predatory way he approached awakened the primitive instinct to flee, but your legs were shaking too much for that.

You pushed yourself further against the wall, even though there was no longer any space. It looked like he wouldn't stop walking, that he would simply knock you into the wall, but at the last second he pinned you against him and ice-cold wood at your back.

The air was knocked from you, hands flat against his chest instinctively as a way to get some distance. Even under the net, his skin was clearly much warmer and firmer than your own, smooth in some places and textured in others, the latter matching the gray patterns that spread across his extremities. He smelled mostly of moss and damp, like a forest after rain. But there was also a muffled current of pheromones, a slightly peppery scent that hit you like a tsunami.

In fact now that you felt it, it felt heavier and heavier by the second, as if he was exhaling on purpose. With each inhale, that smell seemed to make you a little more relaxed, a little more dizzy.

It took a few seconds for you to realize that he was even closer, hovering above you, his breath hot and wet, stirring your strands of hair. A gasp left your throat as his sharp jaws dove down, digging his nose or whatever it was into your hair to press into your neck - though you didn't know if that sound had been out of terror or something else. All you knew was that when he backed away, another low, animalistic growl resonated from deep in his chest, long and continuous and it took you a few awkward seconds to realize he was...purring? Purring like a cat? It was bizarre, but your own body began to uncoil, as if some force tied behind you sternum had pulled your back with him.

Your breathing is now labored for what seems like an entirely different reason. You can increasingly smell that intoxicating scent in the air and that, plus the mesmerizing purr, is making your eyes roll back slightly, a blurry haze taking over your thoughts. You can feel his sharp claws as they dig into your shirt and you, in turn, can't control the shudder in your body in response.

His scent is doing something to you, something that definitely shouldn't be happening. There's an overwhelming pressure blooming in your core, the beginnings of a dull ache that makes you clench your thighs to ease the tension. The saliva in your mouth comes down with difficulty as you swallow and lick your lips, stretching your neck to look into his eyes - god, you could barely reach the line below his chest with your head. What's happening with you? He is not human, he is not human. This is wrong.

"..." His jaws click and move, strange sounds fill the room with deep growls and hisses; he was talking, but you couldn't understand him. His eyes roam your face as he speaks his strange language, and his thumb gently wipes away a tear you hadn't even noticed falling from your eye.

You open your mouth to question, to scream for help, to beg for mercy, for anything...but nothing comes out.

His breath is hot as he bends his body until he's almost face to face with you, all predatory expression and clicking jaws, almost drooling on your skin. And then, as he forcing the words out of his depths, he says, “Mate.” He declares to you, slowly and gravely in a way that no human sound could ever be, but a little more understandable now.

You look at him in shock, not expecting a deep, English word to come out of his alien mouth. His inhuman eyes are bright enough that you clearly see the orange flames in the dim light of the night, slashed down the center with black, almost feline pupils that threaten to drag you inside.

Mate.

What the hell?

You blink slowly, the low rumble persisting as he purrs under your attention and you can tell he's trying very hard to appear less threatening to you. You bite your lip against a hysterical and completely untimely laugh that wants to escape, the tension of fear finally channeling into something different (something manic and traumatized) when he presses his broad forehead to yours in a frighteningly intimate gesture, tilting his head even further to rub your cheeks with those sharp jaws, snorting into your hair and sniffing at your neck.

The drag of the deadly fangs against your skin is exhilarating, in the worst way and you fear what is to come, a very animal and very instinctive part rooted in the most unconscious corner of your being, knows exactly what this creature is wanting from you. And the worst part, the most disturbing and embarrassing part of this realization, is that you don't know if you want to resist. Not with the way his scent and purrs are making your legs shaky and your mind fuzzy.

You're shaking, but it's not just from fear and perhaps the creature knows this, because he pulls back a little until he looks into your eyes - something very carnal and very primal vibrating almost visibly beneath that reptilian skin.

He slowly looks away from yours to fiddle with something on his wrist, and you feel like you can breathe once again without the oppressive weight of the orange orbs on you. He clicks the object on his arm for a few moments and then pulls a small metal disk out of it. It's no bigger than a small cell phone chip, and he balanced it on his fingertips.

Curious, you lean in a little. You just want to take a look at what he's doing; but before you even know what's happening, the giant puts his hand around your throat and pulls you towards him. You scream at the hostile action and try to fight him, but of course it's no use. With his strong hand, he can easily subdue you and move your head to the side, pressing the metal thing against the skin just behind your ear in a quick, burning blow.

You don't have time to react, much less to understand how he did that at that speed.

You just feel the effect.

It burns, like you're being branded, and you scream. Your whole head hurts, and for a second you wonder if he hit you against the wall in the process. It's a wrong and distorted feeling, like someone is tuning a radio inside your head, you hear screams and white noise echoing inside; so loud that you have to cover your ears with your hands, but that does little to decrease to the cacophony inside your mind.

When the alien releases you, you kneel on the ground, still writhing in discomfort and pain from the chaos in your head – and then, suddenly, everything stops. You're panting, your fingers covering your ears and your head between your knees, but when the noise quiets, you slowly look up. And although you are dizzy and a little disoriented, the presence of the creature hovering ominously above you is clear.

“W-what was that?” you mumble between quick breaths. "What the hell did you do to me!?"

The alien blinks slowly and tilts his head, jaws clicking before he responds. "Now we can talk."

Your eyes widen at the strange sound (but fluid and articulate, very different from just a few minutes ago), your stomach tightens and you pull your knees closer to your chest. “W-what?”

“It’s a translator,” he says. His voice is still very dark and booming, but his growls and clicks have somehow turned into words you can understand. “This allows your little ooman brain to understand my language.”

You swallow hard and feel the blood drain from your body. He was scary when you couldn't understand him, but he was even scarier when he could talk.

“Get up, little ooman,” he murmurs. “We should get to my ship. I don’t want to spend any more time on this miserable planet.”

You can't believe what you're hearing, everything is happening so fast. With shaky legs, you gape at him. “I…I don’t understand.”

The moment is interrupted by something when the alien turns his head towards the window of the house, the various dreads tubes rattling with the movement and his jaws opening in a low trill while a long, forked tongue at the tip comes out of his deadly-looking mouth. You gasp at the sight, but he doesn't look at you, using his own body in front of yours, as if he was instinctively hiding and protecting you from something you cannot see, feel or hear. The burgundy appendage is long and glistens with the moisture of his alien saliva, along its length there are some quivers and small barbs. He slowly waves the thing in the air, almost as if he's proving something. And then you understand.

He's smelling it.

Maybe he's even more snake-like than you thought, after all, catching scent particles in the air with his tongue.

The air is positively thick with eager anticipation, he's alert and ready and you feel it.

You don't have time to think about it too much, though. Because soon he is looking at you again, although there is no longer any sign of malice and hunger in his posture now. The way he lifts his colossal body until he's completely erect, swelling the already prominent muscles to appear more menacing, only speaks of a creature with a purpose.

"Oomans here. They must have some kind of tracker." He growls once more and clicks that gauntlet again, making you jerk back with a new wave of fear.

"Y-yes, all the containment units are after you now. It's only a matter of time before they find you and try to arrest you again. Y-you should go." You respond quietly and slowly, trying to make him understand every word.

"My ship is nearby." He grumbles sullenly. You try to control the wave of curiosity that the word 'ship' evokes in you. Seriously, how many humans have had the opportunity to see one up close? But of course you don't say anything, if you got out of this situation with your life it would be good enough. You would forget about this bizarre encounter and go on with your peaceful and boring life as if you had received the greatest gift of all.

But then he continues.

“You…” He covers your body with his once again, cornering you against the wall. Your eyes widen as he wraps a thick arm around your waist, pulling you into him. "You belong to me now, ooman. You'll come along."

You feel like you didn't get it right. “T-to space?”

He doesn't seem to want to entertain this conversation anymore and just grunts again.

It's like all the red flags go up in your mind at once.

"N-no! No, I can't, that's...I can't!"

But he doesn't listen to you, and you can't predict the sharp sting on your neck. It doesn't hurt like it used to, but he cradles your head with huge fingers almost tenderly as a sickening sensation wracks your body and makes you stagger. You feel weak, your body giving out as you babble out things that even you don't understand. Everything is getting dark and your little fingers are scratching his arms looking for support, your breathing is coming with difficulty and your eyes are unfocused.

"It's okay, mate, just give in...I'll take care of you..." He purrs, but you can barely hear him, your senses are fuzzy and lethargic and you know you're going to pass out.

The last thing you see before the darkness swallows you and the unknown can wrap its tentacles around you, are orange flames above you. Hot, consuming and scary.

And then there is nothing but emptiness.

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vampiresbloodx · 6 months

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Hi sorry for asking but I read your request thingy and I'm curious if you could do a vanessa(fnaf movie) x female reader smut maybe dubcon or noncon idk but I would appreciate it or even just smut .

thank you for reading this even if u don't write it -▫️

a/n: hhhhhsvshshshsh yes. Wait I also just realized yall signed off with emojis let me know if you want me to tag your asks as that or smth.

Trigger warnings: smut, legal age gap (reader is 20 and Vanessa is 29/early 30s), reader is Mike's little sister, vaginal fingering, dubcon, stalking.

Vanessa told herself to stay away.

You were Mike's little sister, in college from the information she managed to get from the small talk she had with Mike. And you were off limits.

But she couldn't stop thinking about you.

Running her hands all over your body, making you moan and whimper, she'd make you see stars if she wanted to.

But she wasn't allowed anywhere near you.

She couldn't even breath around you without having Mike scold her.

She understands why he's so protective over his two sisters, after all, he did loose his brother when he was 12. That would have definitely been traumatic. And she knows he wouldn't want to let that happen again.

But still.

He was annoying, she couldn't ask you how your day was without feeling Mike's gaze on the back of her head, he knew she was gay, that was no secret she kept, she was open and proud, and made it clear she didn't like men.

It just wasn't fair, she just wanted to talk to you, make you smile and laugh, make sure you're safe, she cares about you too, even abby, she liked all of you three being around the restaurant working late hours. You bad joined your brother in sharing some night shifts together as you had told her you wanted to save up and one day get out of this boring town, she was supportive of that, since she knew how you felt.

She also knows all of your schedules including when your brother is off for the night.

Luckily he had abby to look after since he knew you can take care of yourself.

She watched you say your goodbyes to your siblings as you hugged them and they saw you off in Mike's car, you blasted your music, Fleetwood mac as she smiled, imagining her sitting next to you in the car as she listens to you sing along.

She followed you all the way to the pizzaria, you grabbed your energy drink, a book, your walkman, and you were off to work.

She'd usually visit you when you worked alone, since that was the only time she could see you without him around.

Vanessa got out of her car, shutting the door behind her as she walked inside the pizzeria.

She saw you sitting in the security room, looking at the monitors as she smiled, leaning against the entrance.

"Hey."

You jumped, startled. Letting out a gasp as you looked around only to see a familiar blonde.

"Shit, you scared me!" You said.

"Sorry" Vanessa chuckled, looking amused by your reaction. "I just wanted to check up on you."

"I'm doing okay, it's not that bad" you said, Vanessa stepped into the office, shutting the door behind her as you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"What are you?-"

You were cut off from your words as you felt her grab you by the arms, pushing you up against the wall as she pressed her lips to yours, knocking the air out of you.

"Just shut up" She mumbled, you froze, unsure of what to do. Sure, you felt attraction towards her, but your brother said to stay away from her, you didn't understand why since she was always kind towards you and your sister and even him. You wanted to get to know her better, maybe even become friends. "Stop talking."

You felt her hands roam your body, touching you as you felt your cheeks heat up, you wasn't sure if you should scream or try to push her off because you didn't even feel that uncomfortable.

She was pretty after all.

You were a sucker for pretty blondes.

Ans she happend to be one.

You just kept your mouth shut, letting her touch you as you could hear her breathing turn ragged.

"God that annoying brother of yours" She muttered, moving her hands to get rid of your belt on your jeans. "So fucking nosy, always around you. I just wanted to talk to you. See you."

You gasped, feeling her cold fingers rub against your clit, you bit back a moan, as you gripped onto her.

"I know you like me to" She moaned, feeling how wet you are, "always looking at me when you think I'm not watching. I'm always watching."

You bucked your hips onto her hand, chasing your high as you were desperate.

Vanessa grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to stare at her.

"Now I've got you all to myself" She smiled.

#fnaf x you #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #fnaf vanessa x reader #vanessa shelly x reader #stuff i wrote

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yawnderu · 4 months

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"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

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bet-on-me-13 · 10 months

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Symbiote Ellie Phantom AU

After she was saved from Destabilization, Ellie gained a nifty new power. She can Melt on command and move around freely, which is just a really fun power, even if she is a bit weaker when she uses it .

But one day, she gets really badly hurt. Like, Really Hurt. Let's say the GIW got a lucky shot and managed to capture her, and experimented on her for a week before she managed to escape.

She can't keep her Human Form stable anymore, but her Goop Form is good enough for now. All she needs to do is find an Ectoplasm Rich Environment and try to heal up the best she can. Hopefully Danny will find her after she misses her monthly Visit.

She ends up in Gotham while searching for a place to heal, but the GIW is hot on her tail.

She needs a place to hide, and the only way she can think of is to overshadow somebody and pretend to be them while the GIW passes her by.

So she jumps into the nearest person she can find, a girl close to her age jumping across Rooftops.

But since she was in her weaker Goop Form, she can't enter a person without their permission. So she slides up to the person in Goop Form, jumps on her Back, and telepathically asks her for help, begging for permission to hide in her for a bit.

The girl she tried to overshadow was Cassandra Cain.

After some begging, Cass agrees and Ellie sinks into her. Again, she can't fully Overshadow her, so she's basically a passenger until Cass decides to give her some control.

The GIW passes by them, and Ellie tries to leave Cass only to realize that she can't. Since Cass was exposed to the Lazarus Pits, she is has a weird Biology, and since Ellie already had a Wierd Biology being a Halfa Clone as a Pile of Goop, they somehow can't leave eachother.

Cass gets a new Roommate, but instead of sharing an apartment, its her body. It's honestly not that bad, Ellie can give her some of her old powers and she can still communicate by making a Goop Head come out of Cass's shoulder.

They get along really well too, Ellie can ways be there for Cass whenever she needs somebody to talk to, and Cass is the Supportive Older Sister who helps Ellie talk about her feelings.

The Bat Fam also doesn't know. They figure that this will probably be fixed soon enough, so there's no real reason to tell her Family. They do find out after a few weeks however.

Cass accidently uses Ellie's powers in front of one of her brothers, which causes them to tell Bat's which means the entire family knows by the end of the day.

Cass has to explain the situation and introduces her new little sister. "This is Ellie. She's a Meta who escapes a secret Government Organization and asked for my help to hide from them by hiding in my Body. Unfortunately, we can't split up because her powers reacted strangely to the Lazarus in my blood. She is now my sister. You are not going to make her leave, I will not let you."

It takes a while, but the Bat Fam ends up accepting her. They do end up looking into that "Secret Government Organization" though, and find that they have been experiencing Raids by an army of Ghosts for the last few weeks.

"Oh right, I missed my monthly visit to my brother." Says Ellie from Cass's shoulder. "He must be looking for me, no biggie."

It's definitely a Biggie.

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Impure

18+

This is so dark and fucked up and I should be doused in holy water because of this but imagine Step dad Bucky lusting after you and how fucking innocent you are. That pretty little silver ring on your finger is practically begging for him to ruin you.

“You’re a good girl” He states, struggling to keep his voice neutral, the hint of a growl lingering in his tone as he takes your hand, nodding to the purity ring sitting on your finger.

You nod, keeping your eyes away from his, trying to ignore the way your stomach churns, your body feeling warm feeling his rough calloused hand. Something about the way he looks at you makes you feel dizzy and weak in the knees, his steel blue eyes looking into your soul.

****

You know its wrong but you can’t stop yourself, the throbbing between your legs aching. You’d always managed to ignore the feeling before but tonight you can’t. You sigh in relief letting your fingers rub the ache away, your body feeling hot at the new feelings tingling through your body, gasping when you brush over your clit. You speed up your ministrations, whimpering as you feel a deep pressure building in your core, shame and lust clouding your mind because you’re thinking about him.

Little do you know you’re driving insane because he can hear every moan and whine dripping from your lips as he passes your door, his cock leaking at the thought of an innocent thing like you pleasing herself. He thinking about your pretty little hand, that damn ring on your finger, it taunts him.

“What are you doing princess” Bucky cracked your door open, cocking an eyebrow, his eyes trailing to where your hands are in your panties, wetness dampening your sheets. You squeaked, pulling your dress down, trying to cover yourself, but its too late, he’s already locked the door, stalking over to your bed like a predator that's caught his prey.

“I-

“Shh, let daddy take care of you princess” He whispered, sitting on the edge of your bed, moving his hand up to stroke the soft skin of your inner thigh. You whimpered, squeezing your thighs together, your eyes growing wide when he takes your soaked fingers, sucking your arousal off. He moaned, greedily lapping his tongue on your finger tips, holding your hand in place after he pulls away with a pop. “Let daddy help with that little achy feeling”

You can’t even get words out, letting him spread your legs and pull your panties off, your tummy fluttering hearing him undo the zip of his jeans. He pulls them off enough to get his cock out, too deep in wanting to ruin your virgin cunt to care about preparing you. He rubs the tip of his cock on you, smirking at the way you moan, pleasured sighs slipping past your lips.

“We-we can’t” You manage to stutter out, but your legs are still wrapped around him, your desperate pussy screaming.

“It’ll be our little secret” He whispers, toying with the ring as he pushes his cock into you, groaning at the way you cry out, the stretch burning and pulsing.

“Let me in baby, let daddy help you” He grunted, forcing his cock in all the way into you, thrusting immediately, getting off on the way you cling onto him, begging for him to slow down.

“You can take it you little slut, you’re not a good girl” He taunts, leaking into you, smirking against your skin when you whine in protest.

“Look at you, taking your step dads cock like a whore. Spreading your legs like a slut, craving cock, you’re dripping making a mess” He gripped onto your hand, growling at the way the silver ring glinted under your bedroom light, “Such a cute little virgin, have you thought about cock before princess? You ever thought about how it’d feel, having a man tear your pussy apart, letting him shove his dick into all your tight little holes?”

“N-No!” You shook your head desperately, you’d always pushed those thoughts away, refusing to give into sin, saving yourself for the right man.

“Then tell me baby, who were you thinking of when you were playing with your princess parts” His eyes bore into you, challenging you as he sped up, pounding you into the mattress.

You whined, biting your lip, not wanting to say anything, trying to hide your face from him, how could you tell him you were thinking about-

“Thinking about your step dads cock huh, is this how you wanted me to take care of you baby? This is what you needed, your slutty little pussy needed her daddy to make her cum?” His hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re running around with this pretty little ring around as if you don’t think about my dick inside you? As if you’re not wetting your bed, rubbing yourself, trying to make yourself feel good but you can’t. You need my cock baby, you’re just a filthy cockhungry whore”

“M’not a whore” you whimper, a soft little pout on your lips making Bucky even more feral than before. He bit your bottom lip, tugging in between his teeth as he continued to slam in you, groaning at the way your eyes rolled back.

“Shhh, take it baby, my dirty little girl, not so innocent, are you?”

“I am” you sob out, clenching around his cock, your juices squirting out of you as you climbed higher and higher. Bucky could feel his balls throb, ready to bust in you, his cock throbbing at the vice grip you had on his length.

“C’mon baby, you know you want to, you know it’s wrong huh? You know it’s bad, good girls don’t to that, good girls don’t think dirty thoughts” He taunted you further, a wicked grin curling on his lips at the way you fluttered at his words. “Good girls don’t spread their legs like this or play with their little pearls, you know that right baby? Good girls wait till marriage, but not you huh princess?”

Your moans grew louder, throwing your head back as you felt the pressure build again, pleasure and tightness making your cunt throb around his cock. You bit down onto his shoulder making Bucky growl in pleasure, unable to hold off any longer. He started to jack hammer into you, warmth crawling from the base of his cock to the tip of his cock.

“Cum, cum all over your step dad’s cock, get my dick wet you slut, give me your sweet cream baby- FUCK” Bucky roared against your skin, flooding your cunt with his cum, fucking it back into your sore pussy. He hissed as he pulled out, tucking his cock back into his pants, trying to ignore the way he wanted to take you apart again immediately after.

You panted, fiddling with the ring on your finger, gasping when he grabbed your hand before you tried to slip it off. He pushed it back down, kissing your hand before coming down to brush his lips by your ear.

“It’s our little secret, remember?”

4K notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: Eddie's guard is back up after overhearing people gossiping about a secret that only you would know about. When he lets his animosity take over, the damage may be too great to repair.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 3.7k

Chapter 4/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie is still fuming when he pulls into the music store’s parking lot. He’s opening today, and his hands tremble as he fumbles with the keys. All of those parents are going to know that he’s a failure of a father. The Munson reputation clung to him like a bloodsucking leech, regardless of his numerous attempts to shed it. He’s destined to be an outcast at best and a monster at worst.

Finally managing to unlock the door, Eddie flicks on the lights, blanketing the shop in a hazy glow. The silence is deafening, and he swears that his brain will implode if he doesn’t get some background noise. He walks to the section labeled ‘METAL’ as if on autopilot, grabbing Metallica’s Master of Puppets and shoving the cassette into the player. Ash insists that they play classic rock over the crummy little sound system; something about it being ‘palatable’ for the customers, but she’s not here to scold him.

He thinks back to when this album was released, towards the end of his third senior year. The good ol’ days, when I only worried about passing O’Donnell’s class and planning Hellfire campaigns, he thinks wryly. But, no; that isn’t quite true. He’d had to worry about the trailer getting repo’d, or whether he and Wayne could stretch their food stamp budget enough to feed two grown men. Concerns that his uncle had tried to hide from him until he no longer could.

“Ed, you’re eighteen now,” Wayne had said, just one month after Eddie’s birthday, “and I’m gonna need you to start payin’ some bills around here.”

At the time, Eddie thought he was just being a bastard. It wasn’t until a few days later when he’d spotted the envelope marked PAST DUE in bold, red letters that he realized it wasn’t a punishment, but a necessity.

He’d been selling for Rick ever since. Well, until now.

“Battery” fades out to “Master of Puppets,” and Eddie flips the CLOSED sign to read OPEN. He glances at the calluses on his hands and smiles sadly, thinking of all the hours he spent learning the chords in his room. After weeks of non-stop practicing—Hetfield’s solo was a bitch—he’d raced down to Gareth’s garage and played all eight minutes straight through. Watched as his friends’ jaws dropped in awe. Gave him a standing ovation. Told him he was a fucking rockstar.

“You’re a rockstar, all right,” Eddie sarcastically grumbles now, clanging a roll of pennies against the counter before dumping them into the till. “Getting ready to drop your new hit single: Do you want a receipt with that?”

His morning has been nothing short of monotonous: help the customer find what they want, ring them up and make small talk, and then organize (or, in his case, pretend to organize) the store when it’s not busy.

There’s too much down time for him to be left alone with his thoughts. As soon as he has a moment to himself, he’s ruminating on his regrets of the past. He turns up the music volume in a half-hearted attempt to drown them out, but they manage to worm their way into every nook and cranny of his brain.

Eight years ago, a twenty-two year old Eddie Munson left his podunk town of Hawkins, Indiana to pursue rock stardom. He’d driven to Chicago with only the pocket change he’d saved up and his guitar on his back. A big city for a man with even bigger dreams.

It didn’t take him long to realize that being Eddie Munson meant next to nothing in a place that was bursting with musicians desperate for the chance to become famous. He appreciated the anonymity at first; he could blend in without being chased by taunts of Freak or Loser. But after nearly a full year of auditions where he was just another guitarist who could carry a tune, he’d started to lose hope. Prepared to return to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, he’d stopped at the nearby bar for one last drink.

“We can’t go on without a lead singer and guitarist!”

A frantic voice captured his attention, drawing his gaze from the pint of beer in front of him.

“Well, Sam bailed. Again,” another man points out, tone heavy with irritation. “So either we go on without him, or we don’t go on at all.”

Eddie finds himself standing up and walking into a conversation where he was never invited. “I, um, play guitar. And sing?” He winces as it comes out like a question. “I can show you, if you want.” What was he doing? He couldn’t line up a gig to save his life, and now he’s offering to play for some band he doesn’t even know?

The two guys, both about his age, exchange a dubious look. “All right,” says one with shaggy dark hair. “Let’s hear what you got, Guitar Boy.” He hands him his own guitar, and Eddie adjusts the strap before diving headfirst into the chorus of the first song that comes to mind:

If you think I'll sit around as the world goes by You're thinkin' like a fool 'cause it's a case of do or die Out there is a fortune waitin' to be had You think I'll let it go you're mad You've got another thing comin'

The other guy cocks his head, a delighted smirk spreading across his face. “Judas Priest. Solid choice.” He paces a bit, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. You got a name, Guitar Boy?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Eddie Munson.” He sticks out his hand, silently willing it to stop trembling, and shakes theirs.

“I’m Marcus,” the shaggy-haired man says. “This is Bryan. I play backup guitar; he’s on drums. Our bassist should be here soon; his name’s Pete.”

“And Sam was our lead guitarist and singer, but he’s a fucking asshole,” Bryan quips, and Eddie chortles at his brazen attitude. “Anyway, we mostly do covers…check out the setlist and see what you know.” He hands Eddie a crumpled piece of paper, filled with familiar songs and artists.

“I can do any of these,” Eddie says, a satisfied warmth filling his chest as he watches the guys grin even wider.

“Tell ya what,” Bryan says, plopping behind a drum set plastered with a logo reading Hard Knox. “If you don’t suck tonight, you can play with us permanently.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agrees. “We’re gonna be big, man. We just need someone to help us get there.”

“Let me run back to my place and grab my ax,” Eddie tells them, adrenaline propelling him to his apartment. This was it. This was the break he needed. Just as he was about to give up, God or fate or destiny or whoever was finally giving him a chance to prove himself.

The show went off without a hitch; Eddie’s guitar skills bringing a normally quiet audience to their feet. Bryan clapped him on the back as he looked at Pete and Marcus; the three nodding at each other. “Welcome to Hard Knox!” he announced.

“Sam leaving was the best thing to happen to us,” Pete laughs in agreement. A bartender in a tight skirt and fishnet stockings brings over a round of shots, and the four men clink glasses.

“Fuck Sam!” Eddie shouts before taking the drink. The tequila burns as it coats his throat, but he doesn’t dare reach for the lime. No, he has something to prove.

“Fuck Sam!” the rest of the band echoes enthusiastically. Their choral response reminds Eddie of the way Corroded Coffin used to be before he’d left: when he’d say something, Jeff, Gareth, and Danny would listen. He was born to be a leader.

Things started to fall into place. His one night endeavor with Hard Knox turned into a biweekly gig at the bar, which eventually turned into shows almost every night at various venues across the city. He’d even convinced the guys to play some original work of his, reminding them that cover bands don’t get record deals.

He had a steady income. A group of friends who appreciated him and his music. Beautiful women who eagerly threw themselves at him at the end of the show. And then it would repeat the following night in a new place. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Last night’s chaos has you all disheveled; it wasn’t until you got to work this morning that you realized you hadn’t even packed your lunch. You try to convince yourself that you can wait until you get home to eat, but about fifteen minutes before your break, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl.

“I’m gonna run to the deli and grab something,” you tell Will, throwing your jacket over your shoulders and digging out your car keys. “Want me to pick up anything for you?”

“Uh, Tylenol?” he grimaces, rubbing his temples. The kids had music class today, and the sounds of ten preschoolers singing off-key combined with their clashing tambourines served as a recipe for a pounding headache. “And maybe a bag of sour cream and onion chips?”

“You got it.” You shoot him a thumbs-up as you make your way to the parking lot as quickly as possible, determined to get your food before the lunch rush starts.

You manage to just beat out the crowd of hungry nine-to-fivers, grabbing a veggie wrap to-go. Crunching on a cucumber slice as you take a big bite, you start back towards your car, but the music store next door catches your eye.

A check of your watch confirms that you have a few minutes to peruse, maybe grab a copy of the new Toni Braxton cassette you’d been wanting. If there was ever a day to treat yourself to a little gift, it’s today. Your mind is foggy and your body feels like it’s dragging sandbags as you make your way over. You knew that taking care of an ailing relative would be physically demanding, but you weren’t prepared for the emotional toll it would take. Seeing your grandma helplessly laying on the bathroom floor scared drew all of the oxygen from your lungs, filling your body with worry. And just a few hours later, she was furiously swearing at you, claiming to hate you. She’s an ever-swinging pendulum, and you’re downright exhausted.

A small glob of hummus lands on your lower lip, and your tongue licks it off haphazardly as you push open the door to the music store. The jingle of the bell is meant to alert the employees that a customer has entered, but when you look around, there’s no one there to help you.

You walk towards the aisle labeled R&B, starting by thumbing through the “B” section–nothing. Perplexed, you make your way to the “T” section, still with no luck. Was Toni Braxton so popular amongst Hawkins residents that they’d bought out every copy of Secrets?

“You can’t eat in here,” a terse voice calls out. You’re so startled, you nearly drop your sandwich. A piece of tomato flies out of the tortilla when you jump, hitting the linoleum flooring, and the irritated person sighs. “Aaand this is why.”

You pick up the fallen vegetable and turn around to see Eddie Munson standing before you. “You scared me!” you say, but your body visibly relaxes. Twenty-four hours ago, you never would have guessed that he would have a calming effect on you. How quickly things can change, you muse silently. “Can you help me find the new Toni Braxton? The Secrets cassette?”

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you follow simple instructions? No. Eating. In. The. Store.” He rolls his eyes. “Just because you teach preschoolers doesn’t mean you get to act like one.”

The smile that briefly danced across your lips slips into a frown. What the hell happened in the few hours since he’d dropped Harris off at school? Did you imagine that you two had gotten along?

“Are you okay?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “I-I can put the wrap in my car, just give me a sec…”

He shakes his head. “No, actually, I’m not okay,” he sneers. “But I bet you knew that already.” He shifts his posture so he’s standing a bit taller. “Y’know, you have some fuckin’ nerve, coming in here after what you did.”

“Did I miss something?” Your voice gets smaller with the gnawing feeling of brewing confrontation acting as a brick on your chest. “I thought–”

“Tell me what you thought,” he interrupts, leaning on a box of tapes. “Wait, no; let me guess. You thought that because I rejected you, you could go around blabbing my personal business around the school.” He scrunches up his face, biting his lip as he looks at you. “Did I get it right?”

“Your personal business?”

“Mhm,” he answers pointedly, spinning a skull ring around his finger. “Is that not it? Was it because you were embarrassed that I heard your grandma say that she hates you? I don’t blame her, by the way.”

Your force your gaze to remain trained on him, staring into his brown eyes that have hardened with fury. “She doesn’t hate me,” you breathe out, “she just can’t remember me anymore. When she knew who I was, she loved me. A lot.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t take away from the fact that everyone and their goddamn dog knows about the CPS report.”

“What CPS report?” you ask, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. “Is Harris okay?”

He takes one look at your puzzled expression and barks out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? You can drop the innocent act.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about!” you snap, frustrated at his unwillingness to hear you out and your own lack of understanding. “All I know is that this morning, you didn’t hate me–or maybe just hated me a little less–and now you’re back to being the worst human being I’ve ever met.”

Eddie scratches at the shadow of a beard that’s formed on his jawline; an itchy reminder that he didn’t get to shave last night. “You should consider yourself lucky if I’m the worst person you’ve ever met. Tell me, what have I done? Thrown some insults your way?” He claps his palm to his chest exaggeratedly. “How ever did you survive?”

“Mock me and my teaching skills, pretend like you’re going to call when you knew damn well that you weren’t, call me a bitch, and your latest and greatest,” you counter, ticking off the instances on your fingers, “accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

He considers this for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “So you’re trying to tell me,” he starts, gritting his teeth, “that we were in the same wing of the same hospital at the same time, but you weren’t the one who told people about the CPS case they opened on me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you hiss.

“Then how the fuck did Carol Perkins find out about it?!” His volume raises to a roar, and you wince at the sting it leaves echoing in your eardrums. “Because I fucking heard her talking about it with Steve Harrington! So if you, the person who was there, didn’t open your mouth and tell her, who did? The CPS fairy?”

“I don’t fucking know!” you shout, swallowing thickly in a meager attempt to bide time before the tears inevitably leak from your eyes. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his frizzy curls, smacking the other on top of the nearby box. “Just…just get out,” he mutters. “I can’t listen to any more of your bullshit.” He starts back towards a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY before turning back around, eyes narrowed.

“Y’know, I wouldn’t have hooked up with you that night if I knew that this is how you handle a one-night stand,” he says, pursing his lips as he steps closer to you. “And I never should’ve let Harris step foot in your classroom. I would drive him to a school in goddamn Timbuktu if it meant having you out of my life.” He pauses, scraping his teeth across his lower lip and exhaling a terse laugh. “It’s too bad I can’t forget about you like your grandma did.”

The words knock the wind out of your lungs. Your knees buckle slightly, and you have to steady yourself on the closest shelf. Tears blur your vision as your legs carry you out of the store; you feel yourself walking, but it’s like an external force has control of your body. The words fuck you sit on the tip of your tongue, or maybe you say them—it’s too hazy to tell. The world is covered in a shiny layer of cellophane; you can see everything, but you can’t touch.

You’re crying too hard to drive, so you sit behind the wheel, seatbelt clicked in place, letting out sobs that leave your whole body shuddering. It’s all too much, and though you logically know that Grandma didn’t want to forget you, his comment hit a raw nerve.

It wasn’t a straight path; Alzheimer’s never is. A few months ago, she could remember you in the morning but forgot you by the afternoon. She would call you by name at 9 AM but ask who you were at 2 PM. One day you were her granddaughter; the next, you were a total stranger. You thought it couldn’t hurt more than it already did, but the repeated reminders that she no longer recognizes you at all is a constant knife through the heart.

You’ll be late if you don’t start driving back to work now, so you turn the key in the ignition and adjust the gear shift to reverse. As you look up to glance in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of him. He’s dumbfounded, and you could laugh at how ridiculous it is that it took him seeing you bawling in your car to realize that he went too far this time.

Unable to stomach the thought of further confrontation, you take a deep breath and drive away, leaving him to mull over what just happened.

He’d assumed you’d left already when he’d walked outside for a smoke break, placing a cigarette between trembling fingers before he’d even left the store. He almost drops the lighter on his scuffed sneaker when he sees you hunched over, resting your arms on the wheel as your body heaves. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring when you lift your head, exposing tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Your gazes lock for just a millisecond, but it tells him everything he needs to know.

It wasn’t you.

When Eddie arrives at the school for pick-up, he scours the crowd of impatient parents for Carol. He finds her talking with another mom; no doubt spreading more gossip about him. Maybe he shouldn’t have pretended that their Satanic cult rumors didn’t bother him when they were back in high school. Maybe if they knew, they would understand that he’s just a goddamn person trying his best, just like everyone else.

“Hey,” he starts, pushing the fear from his voice and willing his strength to remain unwavering. “Who told you about the CPS stuff?”

Carol plasters an obviously fake smile on her face as she responds. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says simply. Her carefree tone pushes Eddie to his limit.

“Cut the bullshit,” Eddie growls, quickly losing his temper. “I heard you talking to Steve Harrington about it. So either you tell me now, or I’ll make sure your husband knows about that guy I saw you with at the Hideout a couple of months ago.”

Her face blanches, color draining from her cheeks. “It was Jason Carver,” she mumbles, biting her thumbnail. “His wife, Chrissy, is a nurse at the hospital and saw the report. She told him, and he’s been telling, well, everyone else.”

Eddie swears that steam is billowing out of his ears. Everything is coated in a red haze, and he finds himself unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists. “Where is that sonofabitch? I’m gonna punch him in his smug little–”

“Mr. Munson?” you cut through his rant. His head snaps in your direction. You’ve fixed your makeup; if Eddie hadn’t seen you crying earlier, he would’ve been none the wiser. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. “Actually, I needed to tell you someth–”

“I think you’ve said enough today,” you say, voice calm but firm. “I just wanted to give this to you before Harris comes out.” You hand him a pink piece of paper. “It’s a transfer slip. Starting next week, Harris will be in Ms. Marion’s class. I didn’t tell him anything about it, so you can say whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.” That’s not quite true; the idea of Eddie feeding Harris lies about you makes your stomach curdle, but there’s only so much you can control.

Eddie’s, usually quick with a retort, is uncharacteristically quiet. “I, um, I thought…the secretary told me that all of the classes were full.” It’s a cop-out, but he can’t push himself to tell you what he knows now. Not when you’re already bruised.

“They made an exception because I was the one who requested it this time,” you explain, clenching your jaw. “Looks like you got your wish. You can forget about me now.”

He takes the paper and shoves it in his back pocket. The confession is on the tip of his tongue, an apology not far behind. Say it, he berates himself. Just fucking say it. You might be able to fix this if you just—

“I’ll go get Harris,” you tell him, breaking into his thoughts. “Good-bye, Mr. Munson.”

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2K notes · View notes

sorryimananti-romantic · 6 months

Text

Feeling Like I Do

neighbour!yunho x reader

best friends to lovers au

word count: 5k (bulletpoint headcanons this time)

genres: fluff, absolute fluff, a little crack, a little angst, some suggestive jokes thrown around, just wholesomeness and yuyu

synopsis: you and yunho have been best friends since forever and neighbours for a while, and you find it harder with each passing day to hide your feelings for him.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (this took way too long to finish considering the deep yunho brainrot we've been in)

special thanks to @hwaightme your guy.exe triggered this hehe

being best friends with jeong yunho was not as simple as it sounded

especially when he was your neighbour

like, right next door. the very next apartment

so you couldn’t avoid him even if you wanted to

honestly, you brought this upon yourself, if you think about it

ever since you were kids, you had been inseparable

from going to the same school and bonding over a similar sense of humour

from pranking the rest of your friends together to making fun of each other

to knowing each other’s deepest secrets

except for the one that really mattered- that you had the biggest, fattest crush on your best friend

honestly, you do not recall when exactly it happened

if you think back, you can’t pinpoint it to one moment

it is a number of moments, the years you spent together, the memories you shared that you are now a grown up and still hopelessly in love with him

though you would not admit it

never. ever. over your dead body.

you just have one fear that has stuck with you and it is that you do not want to ruin things between the two of you

he has known you since forever. he knows you inside out.

he’s too precious to lose over something as stupid as your feelings

because if he does not feel the same, you will never be whole again

but if by some small chance he does and you mess things up later? you would never recover

this is why you think having feelings for your best friend is so messed up

and this is the reason you always dismiss his flirty actions as jokes between two best friends who are super comfortable with each other

like when he casually enters your unlocked apartment and asks for a pinch of salt and spots you in the ugliest fit you’re wearing

he will go “wow you look beautiful”

and you will make a face, knowing he is joking, and ignore the butterflies in your stomach

and you respond with “you don’t look too bad yourself” when he himself looks like he nests a squirrel in his hair

his casual touches and occasionally flirty gazes do not bother you anymore

you’re made of steel now

so when he hugs you out of nowhere or swings you around just to hear you squeal, you know it’s just what friends do

or when he finds you too adorable and kisses your temple, you let it pass. you don’t read too much into it

though occasionally, you like to blur the lines too. he might know at this point

like what friend runs to their other friend only to jump in their arms and bury their face in the crook of the other’s neck?

what sort of friend casually zones out while staring at the other and wonders what they did to deserve them?

you

perhaps, this was a teenage crush that would have quelled with time- but that was if you had parted ways for college

by some evil play of the fates, you two ended up in the same city, quite close to each other

and as soon as you two had enough savings, you both decided to be neighbours

you just didn’t have it in you to be apart from each other

and funny thing was, no one batted an eye. it was so natural

though they did question why you weren’t housemates

you and yunho would always share a grin and respond with ‘to protect the last shred of privacy’

which was an inside joke now

so when you both started living together- because that’s exactly what it was

from going grocery shopping together

to knowing each other’s door locks

dropping in stuff for the other without their permission

privacy? ha. what privacy?

sure, you almost once walked in on him showering

and he almost walked in on you changing your clothes (your fault you didn’t shut the door, right?)

but that wasn’t a big deal at all

you would slide notes under each other’s doors- cute reminders to take an umbrella or a good morning/good night

or an ugly doodle or a ‘u stink’

you did not collect all those notes in a jar. you did not

he once bought 10 rubber duckies and hid them around your apartment and you would find them in the most odd places

like inside a pot you rarely use

one was even in your underwear drawer

whenever you’d find one, you would take it with you whenever you went to yunho’s and hide it somewhere there

and so the eternal game of hide and seek began

you have never talked about it out loud by the way

the more memorable things were just making yourself at home at the other’s place when one of you did not feel like being alone

which was most of the time, if you were very honest with yourself

you would watch tv together while you had dinner and have a heated discussion about whatever you were watching

or you would play games with him

or he would help you pick out your fit for the night

or you would style his hair

or you two would stay up all night talking about stuff

about anything and everything

emptying out your hearts

yet still you would always have more to talk about

it was never a boring moment with yunho

and you could go on about why you loved him forever

every day, you woke up glad that he was so close to you and still with you

he was the only person who did not judge you

you could say something nasty and he would still try to understand your perspective

which just made him 100000x more precious

but he would call you out when you did or said something wrong/bad but in a very gentle manner

which you appreciated so much

and the best thing was, he always stayed. he was always there

his arms were your eternal safe space

and he knew

it was like he knew the look in your eyes, whenever you needed a hug

and he would spread his arms and you would walk to him and wrap your arms around his waist while he embraced you

and tell you that it would be okay, no matter what was going on

he would always offer to hear you out or simply be there, physically

he was just… so easy to be with

he was your personal ray of sunshine, your little fluffy cloud, yours

he was yours- oh, how you wished he could be yours in all the ways

because whenever he talked about someone he noticed with you

or just looked at someone different and then find you staring at him

he’s respond with “i just like their outfit” or “i think their hair is nice”

and you would wonder if it’s really just that

you two do have an unspoken promise to tell each other whenever you start dating someone or fall in love

but that’s mostly because you both know your dynamic would have to change a bit

because you two wouldn’t be each other’s priority anymore- not like you are now anyway

and it hurts to just think about it

you asked him, “what would really change?”

and he responded with, “i would appreciate it if you do not connect your bluetooth to my speakers when i have someone over and play some unholy audio”

which turned into an argument because he has literally done the same to you and you had a friend over

you had to explain yourself and explain yunho and tell the traumatised friend that this was just him pulling a prank on you

but you responded with “you know what i will also appreciate if the person does not find a potato instead of a soap in the sink”

you two are always out for each other and after all these years… you two never know each other’s next move

but you both know your dynamics would change in more ways than that

you wouldn’t be able to stroll in his apartment so casually and make breakfast for the two of you because you ran out of ingredients

neither would he be able to come and take a shower in your apartment because “i ran out of hot water” or “i want to smell like strawberries today”

you wouldn’t be able to go and sleep on his couch or bed because you felt lonely

neither would he be able to do the same

and you both would have to tone down the physical affection because you two have heard enough about people mistaking you for a couple

honestly, sometimes you wonder if those people gaslit you into seeing him as something more

but… it was yunho. how could you not?

especially when he cared for you like no one else?

and maybe, maybe, just maybe

he thought of you like that sometimes too

it was probably wishful thinking but oh, how you wished he did anyway

because you couldn’t take it sometimes

you couldn’t take how he would zone out while listening to you talk and look absolutely adorable

you couldn’t take how when you’d hold hands while walking he’d caress them absently

and you couldn’t take how he’d play with your hands when you’d tell him about your day or some gossip

you couldn’t take it when he’d sneak up on you and wrap his arms around you in a back hug and make you feel so small and safe

or when he’d rest his head on yours as you hugged

you couldn’t take it when his gaze would linger on you a fraction of a second longer when you were too close

or when he would always search your eyes before he would plant a chaste kiss on your cheek or forehead

you really, really couldn’t take it anymore

perhaps you needed therapy now

you couldn’t afford slipping in front of yunho tho

or anyone of your mutual friends for that matter

because you knew if someone found out they would somehow let yunho know

and you weren’t ready for his answer

what if he distanced himself from you if he ever found out? you couldn’t have that

perhaps you should have physically distanced yourself from him

perhaps being neighbours made it worse

tho, could you call it worse when it was literally a blessing to have him so close to you?

you’re starting to question it tho

bc one night when you were out drinking late with your friends

you came back to your apartment complex, feeling so low

and when you were about to cross yunho’s door to get to your own, you paused

you paused and stood outside his door for the longest time

and then you sank down and rested your back against his door

wishing he wouldn’t find you

you just needed to cry a little and lighten the weight on your heart

except, another evil play of fates and yunho somehow just knew to look for you

he almost opened his door but heard the faint sound of your cries

at first he thought it was a lost kitten or something but then he opened his door a fraction and found your figure on the floor

and his heart broke

“y/n? can you please move a little so i can open the door?”

you froze

until he called your name again and you wished you could dig the ground and bury yourself under it

but you moved and not a few seconds later, he was next to you and rubbing your back

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you replied

except there was a lot

you just couldn’t tell him

just like the various times he found you crying alone and no matter how much he insisted, you wouldn’t tell him

he wondered who hurt you sometimes

he wondered who it was so he could punch that person or do anything, something, to make it all right

because he hated it so much when you cried

it made his chest feel tight and he’d always get confused about what he was feeling

a number of things is what it was- anger, longing, pain, confusion

but this time? he wasn’t going to let you go

because just how long had you been crying like this? why didn’t you just come inside? why didn’t you find him?

he asked you that

you couldn’t reply yet again

so he decided to bring you inside

he made you drink some water

he wiped your face with the sleeves of his black shirt

and you finally looked at him

oh goodness. he was wearing those black rimmed glasses again

the ones that made him look so, so good.

but he looked angry

“you’re going to tell me who made you cry. or else we’ll be sitting here just like this all night while i wait for your answer”

you bit your lips, looking away and cursing yourself internally

you should have cried in the shower or something

“can i rest? my head is spinning- i might have drank too much-”

“no.”

you locked eyes with him and he didn’t look away

“do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you like this? and how much it hurts me that you stayed outside? why didn’t you come to me?”

you looked away again, wiping the fresh stream of tears

it was getting harder now, to not give in. to not answer his questions and put an end to this once and for all

especially with yunho so close to you and caressing your bare knees that you put between the two of you

“tell me”

“i can’t”

“why not?”

“because…” you sighed deeply. you looked at him

if you weren’t drunk, every cell in your brain would have screamed at you to shut up

but because you were, it was now your heart tugging that did it for you

“don’t look at me like that, yunho.”

yunho only cocked his head, refusing to look at you any other way

you snaked your hands up your knees to meet his hands, locking your fingers

“you can’t distract me this time-”

yunho’s words got caught in his mouth when you started to lean forward and he drew back reflexively, looking at you questioningly

but you weren’t going to stop

he wanted answers? he would have them

so you continued to lean forward until you were on your knees and almost in his lap

you looked down at him, meeting his very confused eyes

“do you ever think about why i don’t come to you at these times? do you really not know the answer?”

you watched his ears flush

he knew

he must know

he must have a hint, at least, of what you felt for him

“is it really me?” he whispered

you didn’t answer this time

you couldn’t

you simply dropped down with a sigh and pulled your hands from his

he was so confused- he had no way to navigate through this without your help

but you were drunk right now

he decided you should at least be sober when you talk

and perhaps, you decided that too

so you resorted to climbing in his lap and holding him in a hug

he didn’t waste any time wrapping his arms around you

and planting a kiss on your head

just like he had done a thousand times now

“i’m sorry for making you worried,” you mumbled, burying your face in his sweatshirt, hearing his heartbeat

“i’m sorry for sounding angry- i didn’t mean to.”

“i know,” you assured him. “can i sleep here?”

“of course-”

“right here?”

yunho wished you would say such things with a warning because his heart dropped dangerously and he couldn’t help but let out a flustered laugh

“am i that comfortable?”

“you’re literally my human pillow”

and just like that, you were both back to normal

but yunho made sure not to let you forget about this

in the morning when you woke up before him and noticed him sleeping in a painful position to accommodate you on the couch

you watched him for the longest time

and snuck out to go back to your apartment and really panic this time

because boi, did you mess up this time

and it was the weekend. yunho would be up and asking questions in no time

you had nowhere to hide

perhaps, you should stop hiding now

the doorbell rang and for a moment you wondered if it was someone else

but when you opened the door to yunho with a bowl of soup in his hands, you knew he rang the doorbell for a reason

he would be asking you questions today

so you let him in, wondering how he would initiate the conversation

“i bet you have the worst headache now,” he goes, grinning like everything is normal

you didn’t realise he was being normal so you would lower your defences while you ate and chatted like normal

until he finally asked, “are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

“what happened last night?” you ask back

it was perhaps the wrong thing to say

because you see yunho’s gaze darken

you immediately sigh to let him know that yes, you know exactly what he is talking about

you did not like to see him angry so you decided to face what was next

but… anxiety started to creep in your chest as you looked at him, waiting for him to say something

“can you please tell me why you were crying last night? why did you not come and find me?”

you sigh deeply again, pursing your lips as you look at him

because you could feel it

this was it

it would never be the same again

you spend a few minutes staring at him, opening your mouth to say something but stopping, and then looking away and recalling exactly where you fucked up

and he’s so patient. he keeps waiting

he’s not even fiddling with anything right now. he’s just… there and watching you and waiting

you finally lock eyes with him and say, “have you ever wanted something so bad that in order to gain it, you risk losing it completely?”

yunho thinks it’s really cryptic, what you just asked him

because… yes, he’s wanted something that bad too

he didn’t realise it until the first summer he did not spend with you a few years ago

and he felt so lost until he saw you and everything started to make sense

and everything has made sense since

he’s wanted to make you smile every moment you spend with him

he’s wanted to embrace you eternally every moment you find home in his arms

he’s wanted to make you laugh because of all the sounds in this world, your laugh was his favourite

even tho it sounded like windshield wipers

he’s wanted you so, so bad

but how could he ever admit it

suddenly, he understand you

and he finds himself nodding slowly, his heart beating with an urgency indicating the arrival of a change

it could make or break you both

so he says, “yes… yes i know exactly how that feels”

you both watch each other for a few moments, afraid to take the next step

but yunho won’t give in now- he doesn’t want to see you cry like that ever again

“is that why you were upset? you’ve been mulling over something like this?”

you’re hesitant but you nod

so he leans forward as if to hold your hands from across the table but he stops himself

and asks, “why have you been so afraid to tell me this?”

it’s silent. very silent

only the sounds of your breath in the room

and the sound of your heart in your ears

with a gulp, you manage to say, “because… because i’m afraid of being selfish and losing you in the process.”

for a few seconds, yunho is frowning in confusion as he tries to make sense of what you said

and you see exactly when realisation hits him

when his features relax and his gaze clears and his mouth parts as he look at you

you don’t look away. you’re waiting for him to say something, to respond, to hurt you with what he’ll say next, anything

but he looks away and lets out a flustered laugh and you can’t help but let out your own nervous laugh as well

you watch his ears flush and his lips curl downwards as he stifles a smile

and you finally cry out, “say something, you idiot.”

yunho puts a hand over his mouth as he stares at you

and suddenly, you feel hot all over. the embarrassment is catching up to you

“are you telling me, y/n, that you like me? that you… actually want me?”

you blush furiously and you’re almost sweating now but you manage to nod

and yunho is laughing in disbelief again and you’ve had enough

you get up, muttering about getting a drink but yunho is quick to catch your wrist and pull you towards him

and you’re suddenly too close

he’s searching your eyes

“you want me?”

you give him a pleading look and he understands

he brings an almost trembling hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear first

“i need you to say it, y/n. because i-”

“yes,” you nod, “yes, i want you. is it too much to ask for? have i ruined things?”

yunho shakes his head and lets go of your wrist only to cup your face and you try to decipher the look in his eyes

it is not the first time he has looked at you this way but this time it’s a bit different

“do you have any idea how much i’ve wanted you since forever?”

you think you’re hearing things

because there is no way

there is absolutely no way

that jeong yunho- your best friend- wants you

“you’re not joking, are you?” is your response and yunho laughs a bit before he leans in, watching your breath get caught in your throat when he gazes at you

and then his gaze is stuck on your lips and he’s waiting

and now your hands are moving out of their own accord, snaking up to his chest to fist his black sweatshirt

his nose brushing against yours undoes something in you

“yunho, please,” you manage to whisper

and then he finally pecks your lips

it’s cautious, it’s soft, and it’s nothing like you imagined it to be because you’re feeling a number of things

he scans your face briefly before he pecks your lips again, this time longer

and then he does it again and you’re finally moving your hands and tilting your face up so he can properly kiss you

and there’s no need for words anymore

the unspoken actions are enough

you open your mouth and he dives right in, kissing you eagerly

your knees were already weak so you struggle to stay upright but he’s quick to catch you

his arms are holding you to him and you’re the one cupping his face now as you kiss

it is years of longing and love poured into this kiss and none of you want to stop

but you eventually break apart for breath and then you realise exactly what position you both are in

and suddenly, you’re both laughing, too shy to look at each other and you hide your face in his chest

he’s caressing your back while you recover and when you look up, he’s got the most loving look in his eyes

“what took you so long to do that, y/n?”

“i could ask the same,” you respond. “i could cry right now.”

yunho laughs, planting a kiss on your forehead. “well. how do you feel?”

you hug him, taking deep breaths

“i think we should really talk,” you laugh

he steers you to the couch but he makes you sit in his lap so he can caress your face or play with your hair while you talk

and you can’t because he’s looking at you with the softest gaze ever

so you just ask him since when he started liking you- does he like you?

he tells you about how he, too, has been afraid to ruin things

and talks about how he thought you liked someone else

you ask him if he never got the hint

but you both know how wary you two have been, especially lately

never reading too much into things

perhaps one of you should have

“i’m sorry i made you suffer like that,” yunho finally says to let the weight off his shoulders. “i never realised you were hurting because of me.”

you tell him it’s not his fault and that if he did not like you back you would have been hurt, yes, but you would have dealt with it

except you are so lucky that he feels the same way about you

you can’t believe it, actually

you trace the curves of yunho’s face

it’s like you’re looking at each other for the first time now

“i’m yours,” he whispers when you finally look him in the eyes. “i’ve always been yours.”

you can’t help the tears now

they are tears of relief and sheer happiness

and yunho understands because he’s pretty sure he will cry soon too

he lets you pepper kisses on his face

and holds you when you hug him again

“good thing it’s the weekend, right? we can stay like this all day long.”

and you do

you have nothing you’d rather do

you stay in each other’s arms, talk about everything and anything, caress each other’s hands (mostly you bc you love his hands), makeout in between

and it’s so natural

nothing has changed- it’s just like before but better

you’re still joking around and teasing each other like before

he still passes a ‘ur ugly <3’ or a ‘what a mess’ note under your door

and you still respond with an explicit drawing

the suggestive jokes have levelled up tho

he always catches you off-guard with them and you either blush furiously or send something flying at him

a few things have changed tho

like when he finds you in the kitchen and gives you a back hug

this time he’s quick to sneak in a kiss and maybe nibble at your neck

sometimes it turns into a heated makeout session

other times you ask him to stop so you can focus on cooking but he keeps distracting you until you’re running after him with a wooden ladle

and you two can’t stay away from each other now- you couldn’t anyway but this time it’s different

this time when you crawl in his bed at night time, he is quick to spoon you

and now he does not hesitate to find you in your apartment too, at night

earlier he used to keep a distance for the sake of you both- you realise how now

now he doesn’t sleep in the corner of the bed with the excuse that he likes it

he has to hold you while sleeping

and he has to mutter dirty little things to rile you up too

when your friends find out, they’re not surprised at all

they’re disappointed it took you two this long

they call you both dumb and dumber and perhaps, they’re right

but perhaps… this was the right time

there is a time for everything, you realise

and it took you and yunho years of being together to realise that yes

you are meant for each other and no one else :’)

he’s your best friend, your other half, and your soulmate

he is yours <3

#jeong yunho #yunho #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho angst #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez au #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #yunho ateez

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zanarkandskylines · 1 month

Text

₊✩‧₊ ⇢ midoriya never thought he'd have a pop star for a girlfriend.

『 ♡ 』 midoriya x pop star fem!reader (18+ under the cut!) -`✧ izuku midoriya masterlist

✩ out of high school, you were scouted by a local talent agency on a whim. you'd desperately sent your demo tape to thousands of places, both in and outside of japan. you'd almost given up hope until your current agency called you one week after graduation.

✩ izuku was ecstatic for your chance to be a star. you sang every single song for him - he was your best friend and you trusted him with your life. he adored your voice and encouraged you to break out of your shell. you never told him which ones were about him, harboring your secret crush like a sacred treasure.

✩ two years of hard work and you signed your first record deal! going into the studio for hours at a time, constantly surrounded by various musicians, producers and directors. your first album was wrapped and ready for release in no time at all.

✩ izuku was the first one to buy your album and asked you to sign it for him. he bought two - one to save and one to play. he knew you were going to be popular and wanted to get ahead on his upcoming collection. he promised you, way back when, that he’d always be the first person to get your albums or merchandise.

✩ you would drag izuku to the mall and fashion district to shop alongside you, asking his opinion on every outfit you planned for shows you'd be performing. he'd mentally keep note of what he loved seeing you in...maybe it was a little selfish on his part, but you looked stunning regardless. dresses, mini skirts, crop tops, bodysuits - the works.

✩ your first concert was at a small venue booked by your manager - it held no more than 250 people but still sold out! it was a club with neon lighting, usually not your scene, but a gig is a gig. izuku was one of the VIPs, standing front row the entire night. you couldn't help but keep smiling at him as he took countless photos of your show as you danced and sang the night away. during your encore, you kneeled down and sang to him, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek.

✩ high on the adrenaline of your first show's success, you invited izuku to join you backstage in the dressing rooms to wind down...at least, that's what you told him.

✩ izuku heard the lock click on the door after you shut it, secluding the two of you from the world. he was confused until you sauntered over to him, straddling his lap on the obnoxious neon pink couch.

✩ his hands roam your body and settle on your ass as your tongue invaded his mouth, handfuls of his curls in your grasp. "you really think i never noticed, zu?" you mumble between kisses, each one more intense than the last. "the way you look at me?"

✩ the grin that crosses his lips is devilish. the confidence he's exuding in the moment makes your stomach cartwheel. "can’t help it, i’m your number one fan," he moans into your mouth, grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against him.

✩ clothes are discarded as the two of you tornado through the room, moving from the couch to the wall, to the stylist chair and back to the couch. you can’t get enough of each other - lips bruised from the excessive make out session.

✩ the black lace bra and underwear set that adorned your body drove izuku absolutely insane, pinning you underneath him on the couch as he nipped at your collarbone. you couldn’t help but whine when his clothed erection met your soaked panties.

✩ your hands slide to the hem of his boxers, hooking your fingers in the band and yanking them down his thighs, cock springing out and bouncing off your stomach. he reciprocates by sliding your panties down, shuffling your legs over his shoulders. they stay hooked around one of your ankles.

✩ izuku slips a hand between your bodies, relishing in the skin on skin contact. he brushes over your clit and slides a finger directly into your drenched cunt, a gasp falling from his lips as your slick coated his finger instantly.

✩ you’re biting your lip, trying to keep quiet as he fucks you into the couch, panting into the crook of your neck. his name echoes throughout the dressing room, breathless and growing higher in pitch as the thread in your core snaps. your nails are dragging down his back as your release coats his shaft with every thrust. he follows you soon after, pulling out and painting your stomach white.

✩ in the afterglow, izuku kisses you like you’re the only person in the world. once you part, you can’t help but jokingly say, “my number one fan, huh?” he smiles, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “always.”

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — something about midoriya with a pop star girlfriend is so cute to me! he really would be your number one fan, flabbergasted after every show that he gets to go home with you. ✨ i know this may seem a little ooc for izuku, but i honestly think a 20 something version of him wouldn’t be as shy and nervous around someone he’s loved for years. so when you make the first move, he’s all about it!

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x y/n #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya smut #deku smut #my hero academia smut #my hero academia izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya headcanons #mha deku #my hero academia deku #deku x y/n #☆.rei writes

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forever-rogue · 10 months

Note

Hi, love! So i’m not sure if your taking requests but i have a prompt for joel and you’re currently my favorite joel writer so 🥰 i can’t get this idea out of my head of reader being joel’s neighbor and being extremely nice and kind to everyone (especially to him and ellie cause she has feelings for him duh) and he’s kinda in love with her too but won’t admit it (ellie knows and nags him about it) but he also kinda judges her and thinks she’s “weak” cause she’s “too soft”, and then one day for whatever reason he ends up snapping at her and saying that “you have no idea what it is to lose a child” only to later find out from tommy that reader actually lost a baby under pretty awful circumstances and then he’s mortified but she’s super mad at him? I have no idea where this came from i guess i just like pain 🤷‍♀️ totally understand if you don’t feel like it though! Tks babe

AN | Please, this is so cute but sad, but there’s also a happy ending 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of child death

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The pie in your hands smelled delicious, still warm and fresh, as you waited on Joel's porch. You rocked back and forth on your heels as you listened for his familiar footsteps to come to the door. Just when you were about to give up and save it for later, the door slowly opened.

"Hey," there was Joel, leaning against the doorway with a lazy little smile on his face, "what a pleasant surprise."

"Me or the pie?" You always managed to fall into an easy rapport with him. Your back and forth always seemed to turn from teasing to flirting, honestly? You loved it.

"Oh, you brought pie? I didn't even notice," your cheeks warmed up at his response. You shook your head and sighed playfully at him. He stepped aside and motioned for you to follow him, "do you want to come in?"

"I suppose I can spare you a few minutes of my precious time," you flashed him a pretty smile as you flounced past him. Making your way into the kitchen, you set the pie down before uncovering it to show him, "I even made your favorite."

"You spoil me," he practically groaned at the sight of the delicious treat. He immediately turned to the cabinets to grab some plates, "what's the occasion?"

"There's none," you grabbed some forks and knives, "the trees produced so many apples we couldn't use them fast enough. I figured pie was a good solution and I know you love it. So here we are."

"Here we are," he agreed softly, "thank you, darlin'."

"No need to thank me," you sat down and cut into the pie, "you just owe me now."

"I am forever in your debt," he down across from you, a knowing little look in his pretty brown eyes. You made a small sound of agreement as you passed him a slice, "whatever you want, just name it."

"I'll take you up on that offer."

"Good."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should tell her you know,” Ellie broke the silence over dinner as she looked over at Joel from across the table. He froze with his fork about halfway to his mouth. He stuffed the bite into his mouth and took his sweet time swallowing it before sighing and raising an eyebrow at her, “don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I do,” he admitted, figuring it was better to admit to the truth rather than lie to her. She looked so pleased with herself as she leaned back in her seat, “but I ain’t doing anything about anything. Get that into your head, kiddo.”

“Why not?” she huffed, waving her hand dismissively at him, “you’re so lame. Ugh.”

“Maybe I am,” he agreed with a nod of his head, “but your opinion isn’t going to change anything. I am okay with how things are right now. There’s no need to go and change things up.”

“But she feels the same way!” and it really was obvious; everyone knew. You also knew that everyone knew. It was like the worst kept secret in Jackson, “one of you has to make a move eventually.”

“Ellie-”

“Joel,” she looked at him seriously, her small face taking on a dire expression, “you’re being stupid.”

“Ellie.”

“You’re denying yourself potential happiness,” Joel had to admit that she had a point, regardless of whether or not he would act on it. He was so happy around you, you made him feel so alive and carefree and loved. You were like his very own ray of sunshine. He could only imagine what it would be like if the two of you added romance to the equation. It wasn’t hard to imagine what it would be like to kiss you and touch you and make love to you. It really would have been like a dream, “and her. Plus you’d be so cute together!”

“With that logic, she’s also denying herself happiness,” he wondered if you thought about him the way he thought about you. He’d be lucky if you even spared him more than a passing thought, “so, have you given her this speech?”

“Not yet,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders, “I was going to try you first. She’s usually the more logical one…so.”

“So,” Joel mirrored Ellie’s position and crossed his arms over his broad chest, “you’ll leave her alone and drop this.”

“Not a chance!”

“I didn’t think so,” the girl shoved the last mouthful of food into her mouth, “I’m going to her.”

“I know,” Joel drummed his fingers along the table and let out a resigned sigh, “I know.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite Ellie's insistence that he tell you how he feels, he didn't do anything about it. Namely, he couldn't manage to work up the courage to do so. To him, admitting that he had feelings for you was akin to admitting he was weak. Feelings made people soft and made things harder when, inevitably, the relationship would end one way or another. Why would he willing put himself through that again? It had almost killed him when he'd lost Sarah and later when the same happened with Tess. If it hadn't been for Ellie, he wasn't sure he'd have made it. But Ellie was going to be around forever either.

It was a complicated tangle of emotions, and the best solution for him had to been to keep a few people, currently Tommy and Ellie, close while others remained behind a wall.

You, meanwhile, loved and cared for people so openly. It was easy to see that in everything you said and did. You had a giant heart, but you were just setting yourself for failure. One day something bad would happen and you'd fall apart. Joel wasn't sure he could handle that.

He didn't want to lose you; he loved you, he really did, but he also didn't want his heart to break.

Ellie had come to you as well and pushed you to profess your feelings. While not as in denial about everything as Joel, you weren't about to make that first leap. What if you overstepped and pushed him away? You didn't want that; you'd rather keep him as a friend than lose him entirely.

You'd noticed over the last couple of weeks that something had been nagging at Joel. You didn't push the issue, but hoped he'd trust you enough to confide in you at some point.

It turned out that some point didn't come as you expected.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel had come over to your house, and the two of you were making dinner together. It was a routine you'd often fall into and it felt so blissfully domestic. You'd never really made a comment about it before, but something caused you to feel a certain amount of bravado and led you to actually pointing it out.

"You know, this is so much like playing house," you teased softly as you nudged his side with your elbow.

"It does," he agreed with a small smile. He liked the idea of living with you permanently. If he was being honest, the thought of sleeping with you and waking up to you in his arms, of spending lazy evenings in a tangle of limbs was something that crossed his mind more than he cared to admit. In another life, he'd have made those moves already and might have even called you this wife, "kinda nice."

"Mhmm," you continued chopping away at the fresh vegetables that you'd picked for dinner, "all that's missing now is a couple of kids running around."

He stiffened for a moment, his mind first going to the image of you round and pregnant with his child and then to sheer terror. Kids were all well and good, but something just told him they would be a bad idea. He remained silent and kept his gaze on the stove.

"You ever think about having kids in the future?" you had hesitated for a moment before asking but, how did that old saying go? Curiosity killed the cat?

"No," he said without a second thought. It was a lie, of course it was. He'd thought about it a lot, especially since he'd met you.

"Oh," your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden shift in emotion. You focused on what was in front of you rather than anything else. Something was off and you could immediately sense that you might have said the wrong thing. It was still hard for you too sometimes, "I'm sure that it's still…hard. Losing your daughter….I'm sure it was the hardest thing ever. I l-"

“Don’t,” there was a furious look on his face and you couldn’t help the way you recoiled away from him. He’d gone through such a shift in emotions that it was a little scary - you’d never seen him like this before, “don’t fucking talk about my daughter.”

“Joel, I didn’t mean anything by it,” you felt a few hot, salty tears run down your cheeks. You took a step back to create a distance between yourself, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of your sweater, “I was just saying-”

“You don’t know shit,” he stormed towards the door and threw it open harshly. You were surprised that it didn’t fall off the hinges, “you have no clue what it’s like to lose a child.”

With that, he stormed off, leaving you there staring in shock. Your mind was still trying to process what was going on as you closed the door. Your whole body felt like it was trembling as you leaned against the counter and took a few deep breaths.

That wasn’t him, is what you tried to keep telling yourself. That wasn’t your Joel…he would never have talked to you like that. A sensitive topic had been brought up and he was hurting…anyone could have responded in such a manner.

But, you decided, you’d give him some space. Maybe seeing you wasn’t the best thing for him right now….you were sure he’d come to you when he was ready to. Until then you would just love and support him from a distance; but that was the thing and you hoped he knew it too - you’d always love him. Not matter what happened, Joel Miller had your heart.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey big brother,” Tommy caught Joel’s attention as he walked into the tavern, flashing him a meek smile. Joel looked up and offered a wave in a sign of acknowledgment. Before he could say anything else, Tommy’s fist collided with his face, causing him to stumble off his stool. He clutched at his face, surprised by the sudden attack, “heard you were being an asshole.”

“What the fuck!?” Joel clutched at his face in shock as he took in Tommy's angry expression. And here he thought that they were getting along well these days. But then he said - your name, "listen-"

"No, you listen," Tommy grabbed by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer so only he could hear his next words, "I can't believe you yelled at her. And you told her she doesn't know what it's like to lose a child? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" Joel's brows furrowed in confusion. Yes, he hated himself for yelling at you, but it had all been in the moment. He agreed with that part anyway, "what are you talking about?"

"You're an idiot and an asshole," Tommy shook his head, "you're not the only one who's lost everything. You're not the only one who's lost their child."

"W-what?"

"She lost her son," Joel's face fell as realization crashed over him like an icy wave, "to one of those clicker bastards. It almost got her too. You ever notice that scar on her face? Now you know where it comes from."

"Tommy-"

"Next time don't assume you know everything," he shoved him and put a bit of distance between themselves, "don't ever be a dick to her again. It won't end well."

With that, Tommy left Joel sitting there with a sore face and aching heart. Not that it was undeserved, but still. Joel knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure you'd give him the time of day. But you were so good and kind that he realistically knew that you'd let him explain.

All those things that he thought had made you weak actually made you so stronger. Much stronger than he was apparently.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late in the evening a couple of days later when he knocked at your door. You were both surprised but in a way had been expecting him. It was Joel after all, and the two of you shared a special bond; it wouldn’t be so easily broken.

“H-hi,” his cheeks immediately pinked when he saw your pretty face and he felt like either running away and never looking back or throwing up then and there. You offered him a small smile in return but otherwise remained silent, “I, uh, I wanted to…I came to…apologize. I’m sorry for the other day. It doesn’t excuse it, but I was just wanted to let you know. So…yeah.”

“Do you want to come in?” you asked softly, causing him to look at you in pure awe.

"I-what?"

"I just made some tea," you stepped aside and beckoned for him to follow, "I couldn't sleep so I thought it might help."

He was incredulous as he stepped into your kitchen and watched you make him a cup. In the warm yellow light of the kitchen, he studied you intently. He noticed the scar running from your cheek and disappearing into your temple. It wasn't the first time he spotted the scar but it was the first time he made the connection.

"Why?" He asked as he sat down across from you, pulling the cup of tea closer, "why aren't you telling me to go fuck myself and leave?"

"There's no reason to," you shrugged before taking a long, thoughtful sip of your tea, "I assume Tommy told you by now."

"How'd you know?"

"I can see the bruising on your face," you reached over and gently ghosted your finger along his skin, "and no one would dare to hit you besides him. Or maybe Ellie."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and giving it a squeeze, "I had no clue."

"It's not something I usually go and advertise," you sat back in your seat and exhaled slowly, "losing a child isn't easy. It doesn't really get easier but time lessens the sting. I can tell you more about…him and everything that happened sometime. If you want to hear it, but not tonight. Tonight we can just…just be."

"Yes," he reached for your hand and put his hand on top of yours, "I know it doesn't seem like it but I…care for you. Very deeply."

"I know you do, Joel," your assurance made him feel so much lighter; it felt like the weight of the world was off his shoulders, "I care for you too. There's a lot we still have to learn about each other Joel, but I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here."

"Me too," there was a hopeful smile on his face as you squeezed his hand, "I'm not going anywhere."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

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atsumwah · 8 months

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"if you had to pick"

featuring : daichi, oikawa, kita

includes : fluff

notes : this has been in my drafts for way too long ahhh

☆ SAWAMURA DAICHI

practice was over and you guys still had some time left so why not play a game?

tanaka had roped everyone to sit in a circle and play truth or dare so here you were

it was your turn and obviously, not wanting to do some stupid dare by him, chose truth

"if you had to pick between all of us, who would be the best boyfriend?" tanaka asked

you didn't even hesitate on that. "daichi, for sure."

you had a little crush on him, sure, but then again maybe that was too fast

that earned a few hollers and mischievous looks coming from your friends, especially your trouble making juniors.

"oh and why's that?" noya asked with a wink.

you try your best to change the subject but everyone seemed interested in your answer

including daichi who was sporting a blush

"well he's already boyfriend material. a good brother, an even amazing captain, not to mention a real gentleman —" it was your turn to blush when you caught yourself rambling "—so yeah theoretically that's the most obvious answer. okay next"

thankfully it went to someone else and you sighed in relief when the spotlight was off you

after hanging out , you made your way home but you were stopped by daichi himself

"you know if you want, you could see if your theory was true," he said smoothly but you could see a hint of blush on his cheeks as he spoke

☆ OIKAWA TOORU

you knew something would happen when you hung out with the four of them

it was your monthly movie night with the boys so you're all at oikawa's house this time

you still made time for each other despite your schedule

iwaizumi claimed the single arm chair, makki and mattsun sat on the floor and you were seated next to oikawa on the couch

you didn't mind though, maybe some part of you was hoping you were seated next to your crush

you were watching a movie about these friends having a backup husband/wife and makki got really interested in the idea.

it's not a surprise when he stopped mid movie to ask you guys

well, technically, ask you

"say y/n if you had to pick one of us to be your backup, who would it be?"

you looked around them before answering. "oikawa"

said setter looked at you in surprise while makki had this mischievous look in his eyes.

"oh do tell us more."

"he's gonna go pro right?" was the first thing that came to your head aside from the obvious fact you had a crush on him. "might as well marry the rich."

"so you'd marry him for money?"

"and the good looks" you joked before continuing.

"KIDDING but he's actually sweet and I think he'd make a great backup husband"

cue awwing from makki and oikawa subtly hiding his blush

"okay but what makes you think he would want you as his backup" mattsun chipped in

and immediately all eyes were on the man of the hour

you knew it was a silly game but you'd hope he'd pick you

oikawa looked around and cleared his throat before answering.

"well obviously not y/n"

you rolled your eyes at that but deep down that kind of hurt

"why would I have you as my backup when I could have you now?"

say what

you whipped your head towards him and saw how he's blushing

"she's totally gonna reject you now, dude."

☆ KITA SHINSUKE

it is no secret that kita is the perfect gentleman

that is the only reason being inarizaki's manager is so bearable

and you know the humongous crush you had on him helped too

anyway

you were filling up some forms for the team and they were hanging out near you, literally just wasting time and suna decides to ask you questions

and suna just casually goes "y/n if you had to pick one of us to date who would it be?"

"kita."

he didn't stop there

"pick someone who'd you kiss?"

"pick someone you'd kill for?"

"pick someone who'd you cook and clean for"

"look, i'll save you some time. if kita is an option, i pick kita." you said, clearly distracted and not knowing said captain was just behind you blushing like hell

atsumu had other ideas cue evil laugh

"ah, so you have a crush on him huh?"

"isn't that obvious." you retorted.

"it wasn't obvious to me."

you froze. literally frozen on the spot as kita comes up from behind you.

earth please swallow me whole

"oh haha it was a dumb games anyways let's forget about it."

"ah, shame. because I'd do all those things only for you too."

cue sneaky teasing kita

also cue you short circuiting

safe to say this was just the beginning

reblogs are appreciated luvss <3

#haikyuu headcanons #daichi fluff #oikawa fluff #kita fluff #daichi x reader #oikawa x reader #kita x reader #daichi sawamura #oikawa tooru #kita shinsuke #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #daichi headcanons #oikawa headcanons #kita headcanons #hq headcanons #hq hcs

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chiscribbs · 7 months

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Updated Future Donnie Concept Art!!!

So, I've been hesitant to try my hand at designing an Apocalyptic Future version of Donnie for a while, for a number of reasons - mainly that I just didn't have a clear idea of him in my brain yet and the thought of attempting to update his already pretty perfect design was highly daunting - but I finally caved and decided to take a crack at it. A couple months and several revisions later, I'm actually genuinely happy with the result. I'd still consider this "concept art" more so than a final design, elements of it could definitely be improved, but I really do like the concept as a whole - I think it could work!

The main goals I had in mind while working on this were: A. Must fit the character/look like something Donnie would canonically wear and still be easily recognizable. B. Must work in the Rise world & style (i.e. not be overly detailed or have too complex a silhouette.) C. Must fit in with the other (canonical) Future Rise designs.

I was also thinking about what problems Donnie might be trying to solve, which is what inspired the belt (more info on that below). All-in-all, although there might still be a few kinks to work out, I think I managed to come up with a pretty solid base design for my favorite Warring Warrior Scientist (Jr.)

Some additional character tidbits under the cut.

Also, I can't draw mechanisms to save my life, so just pretend those vague ninpo-gun-things make sense lol

Donnie has a mechanical prosthetic leg. How'd he lose that leg? Up to interpretation - my working theory is that it was a minefield accident that occurred when he was trying to blow some Krang dogs to Timbuktu. Naturally, since it's Donnie and they are in the midst of an alien apocalypse, he designed the leg to do a whole lot more than just help him stand without falling down. It's a multifunctional tool that contains a plethora of secret uses - including, but certainly not limited to, sawing off ugly Krang faces. It's essentially his new tech bo.

Bonus leg tidbit: Casey Jr. saw him deploy the saw blade in battle once when he was little, he then proceeded to beg for a saw-leg of his own to fight the Krang with. Donnie, realizing that amputating a perfectly healthy child's leg is probably not that most morally acceptable option, instead made him his own "sawing stick"(AKA, his motorized hockey stick)...which the others then made him wait until Casey's 10th birthday to give him.

The belt that Donnie's wearing here is a prototype of his latest invention. Its intended purpose: to deflect the Krang's mystic-blocking attacks, allowing them to use their ninpo in close combat. It took a lot of risk-taking to collect the necessary information to create such a device, and he experienced a number of way-too-close calls (one of which may or may not have resulted in that large gash across his plastron), but he finally managed to crack the code and pinpoint the frequency of the Krang's sound waves. He's testing it out right now to make sure that it works and is safe to use, but once it's out of beta, he plans to mass-produce them for every mystic-wielder in the Resistance to use in battle. He believes it could turn the tides of the war...unfortunately, the device never makes it out of beta, as he dies before its completion.

Donnie's gloves are fashioned after the ones his dad used to wear in his Lou Jitsu days (with some modifications, for comfort and to make working with screens a little easier and less annoying.) The material they're made out of is far more durable, of course, since he's working with them near-constantly and under varying conditions. But maybe he designed them to look like this as a way of keeping his dad's memory close, similar to Leo's sword hilt?

Ironically, Donnie uses his ninpo probably the most consistently out of all the brothers (even though Mikey uses his to the greatest extent, hence his rapid aging). He's constantly using it to check on the base's security status and multitask while working on other projects. Because his ninpo takes a good deal of brain power to operate, it puts a significant amount of strain on his nervous system and this causes frequent complications. Seizures, spasms, and blackouts become a semi-regular occurrence - especially in the latter part of his life. Donnie does his best to manage them, but the workload makes it almost impossible to do so properly. Mikey is able to help with these attacks when they happen, but Donnie - not wanting his brother to overuse his powers any more than he is already - usually opts to just ride it out and save the mystic healing for people who need it. The exception to this rule being when he's in the middle of an extremely important procedure and can't stop long enough to let the attack pass naturally, then he has no choice but to accept Mikey's aid.

This is probably needless to say at this point, but much like Leo and his other brothers, he is a giant. Equal in height to Leo (if not slightly taller, even without the goggles.) The doodle in the top-left corner of the sketch page where he's next to April is meant to be them sitting, so don't take it as anywhere near an accurate representation of their height comparison. It is not, he dwarfs her by several feet, lol.

#rottmnt #donatello hamato #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie #future donnie #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt future timeline #tw: amputation #Sort of. You don't see anything but if half a leg freaks you out best not to look.#fanart #concept art #character design #chiscribbs #Heavily referenced Krang because Idk how to draw them yet WOOTWOOT

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headkiss · 1 year

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single thread (pt. 3)

part 1, part 2, part 3

pairing: spiderman!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you know steve’s secret, but he has another; he loves you. of course, you love him, too, and things change.

word count: 9.3k

warnings: spiderman!steve au, fluff, smut (thigh riding and a hj), mentions of a car accident (nobody gets hurt), idiots in love!!!!!!

a/n: she’s here!!!! thank u guys so much for ur support on this mini series, i have loved writing it so so much <3 this will be the last long piece, but if you guys have requests for blurbs from this universe, i’d love to have them!!!

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

You’d never been that great at puzzles, at figuring things out quickly without hints. But for some reason, this was something you’re pretty sure of.

Steve is Spider-man. He’s the one who saved you, who saves people every day, and he keeps it hidden. You understand why he does, and you’d never want to pressure him into telling you something he doesn’t want to, you only wish he knew you were ready to listen. Whenever.

You’re not that strong, but you’d take some of the weight off of his shoulders if you could.

The news plays on your TV now more than ever, as more than just background noise. Your eyes focused on the screen whenever Spider-man is mentioned, analyzing the way he moves, the familiarity of the hand gestures when he speaks, the gentleness when he makes sure someone’s okay.

It isn’t only on the news that you notice things, either. Seeing Steve as often as you’ve grown to, you seem to find more tells constantly. How he can catch a glass before it spills without even looking, the way he’s on edge sometimes, like he can’t focus on one single thing.

You see Steve often, and the clues are there, and he still hasn’t told you about it.

It’s not that you expect him to tell you, or that you’re angry he hasn’t. It’s just been hard to pretend like you don’t know why he’s limping or like you’re still clueless to it all. He’ll tell you on his own time, or maybe he won’t, but you’ll have to be okay with that.

You’ve convinced yourself it’d be best not to tell him you knew. He’s probably stressed out enough, and you didn’t want to add to that if you could avoid it. You’ll be there for him either way, that’s what’s important.

Besides, on top of you figuring out he’s Spider-man, you’ve finally acknowledged the feelings that have been there for a while. The serious ones, the four letter ones. They’ve been on your mind more than anything.

You’re in love with Steve, that’s something you could tell him, in theory, but you can’t bring yourself to. You’d hate to ruin the only real friendship you’ve managed to build since moving.

So, he’s not the only one with secrets after all. He’s Spider-man, you know that he’s Spider-man, and you’re in love with him.

Lately, you’ve actually been thankful for how quiet things have been at work. Your head’s been loud enough. The thoughts of Steve, of trying not to give anything away every time you look at him, of whether he might be going to patrol whenever he leaves.

It’s all-consuming. Pathetic, even.

And it’s what’s on your mind—once again—as you walk home from your morning shift at work. The sun’s out, your eyes squinted when it hits your face. The breeze around you is still chilly, but the promise of spring and warmth is nice.

You glance over to the newsstand you always pass going to and from work, checking the picture on the front page to look for a certain mask. Today, it’s there, and you pause to look at it.

‘Spider-man catches culprit behind string of armed robberies.’

Skimming the article, your heartbeat picks up. The danger this boy puts himself in for the sake of other people. The injuries you’ve seen him come home with. You shake your head and keep walking.

“Mom, look!” A little boy says, urging his mother towards the newsstand. “It’s Spider-man!”

You turn around, a small smile on your face as you see the mother buying her son a copy of the paper. You guess you’re not the only person who can’t keep away from that hero.

Then, there’s a little glow in your chest, the reminder that you’re lucky enough to know the person behind the mask, too.

Steve thinks that telling Robin about you might’ve been a bad idea, because she looks like she might slap him right now.

“You’re telling me you kissed her, then told her it couldn’t happen again, and yet you still have that look on your face when you talk about her?”

Robin makes it sound very simple. To him, it isn’t.

“Well, yeah, but it’s complicated, okay? And I don’t have a look on my face, Robs.”

“You absolutely do, all moony and shit. If I didn’t want you to find someone so badly, I’d say it’s kinda gross.”

Honestly, Steve can’t even tell her she’s wrong. If the way he thinks about you tells him anything, it’s that he probably can’t keep it off his face. At the very least, he hopes that Robin can only tell because she knows him so well, not because it’s insanely obvious.

“Thanks.”

“Steve, I know you like her,” she says, gentler than before, careful not to scare him from the conversation.

I more than like her, he thinks. There’s a better way to describe it and he knows that. He may not admit it, not even to himself, but he knows it all the same.

Robin continues before Steve can reply, “and I know you’re scared, I do, but we both know you’d regret it if you didn’t give this a shot.”

He shakes his head. Somehow, every time he sees Robin, the conversation always leads to this. To you.

“I’d regret it more if I got her hurt.”

“Steve, I’ve known about you since the beginning and look at me. I’m right here, perfectly fine,” she holds her arms out, like it’s some sort of proof that she’s okay. “The worst I’ve done lately is scrape my knee, and that’s just because I’m clumsy, not because I know about you being Spider-man.”

He supposes she’s right, that she has a point here, but it doesn’t stop him from being afraid, from feeling an uncomfortable clench in his chest when he thinks about even the slightest possibility of putting you in danger.

“It’s different with her, though,” he says.

“Come on! Remember in high school when you had like four different girlfriends in a month?”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Well, still. Where’s that part of you gone?”

“Um…”

“Shut up, I mean the part that was open to that. To trying to make connections.”

“Maybe the venom from the spider made it disappear.”

She huffs and sinks into the couch cushions. Steve’s always been stubborn, quick to deflect with humor or sarcasm when things get too intense. Too much.

Robin’s a good friend, the best one, and she can see him closing up, so she changes her approach.

“I just want you to be happy, you know?”

“Yeah, Robs, I know.”

“Can you just think about it?”

“About what?”

“Asking her out, telling her how you feel,” Robin lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder, gives it a small squeeze. “Don’t close yourself off to it completely.”

Steve’s hand lands on top of hers, squeezes it back before letting go. He may not have that many people in his life, but having a friend like Robin never makes him feel like he’s missing anything.

At least, he didn’t feel that way until he met you. Now, he thinks about what it’d feel like to fall asleep and wake up with his arms wrapped around you, to be able to kiss you and hold you. To have that intimacy that you can only have when you’re in love with someone.

Fuck. In love.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

The good thing about being lost in thought while you walk is that it makes time go by quickly. By the time you’re walking up the stairs to your apartment, you’re not even sure how you got there, your feet having been on autopilot.

Just as you’re fishing out your keys, there’s the sound of a door opening, a pair of voices following. One that’s practically engraved in your head. The other is of a girl, who seems to notice you standing by your door very quickly.

“Oh my gosh! Hi!”

You blink at her a couple of times, because she’s talking to you like she knows you, like you should know her. “Hi…?”

Steve’s leaning a shoulder against his door frame behind her, a scrunch in his brows and a shake of his head. It’s all you catch before she grabs your attention again.

“Sorry! I’m Robin, Steve’s totally, completely plantomic best friend-”

“Oh my god,” he mutters.

“You’re the neighbor,” she continues, saying your name to make sure she’s right, even though she seemed plenty sure of that already. “Steve talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” You can’t help but ask. You try to hide the hopefulness in your voice, the happiness at the idea of him talking about you. All the time.

“Oh, yeah. You have made quite the impact on this guy,” she points towards him with a thumb over her shoulder.

“Robs,” Steve gives her a stare, eyes wide and—if the hint of pink spreading over his cheeks says anything—probably telling her to stop embarrassing him.

“What?” She looks back at him, all innocent.

“Don’t you have to get to work?”

“Okay, okay,” Robin turns towards you again, gives you a toothy smile that’s wide enough to have you sending her a small grin in return. “It was so nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too,” you say, and though she surprised you with a whole bunch at once, you mean it.

She pulls you into a hug and says to you quietly, “thank you for taking care of him.”

And with that, she walks away, retreating down the hall. Steve hears her, Robin knows that. Hell, she probably wanted him to.

He scratches at the back of his neck (that habit of his) and huffs, “I’m sorry about her. She can be sort of a lot.”

“Don’t be,” you shake your head. “She seems great.”

“You’d like her, I think. If you got to know her.”

He still seems nervous, like you and Robin meeting was a really big thing for him. And it is. The two most important people in his life meeting. Of course he’d want that to go well.

“Steve, you don’t need to worry, or anything. I already like her, okay?”

Anyone who seems to make Steve happier is bound to win some points with you. He deserves friends like that, especially with everything he has to carry.

“Okay, yeah. That’s good.”

He still seems nervous, so you step over and place your hand on his arm, giving him the lightest squeeze. He probably wouldn’t have felt it if it weren’t for how focused he is on you.

“I was just surprised, that’s all. Promise.”

Steve’s hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers gently, as if he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

“Thank you,” he speaks quietly. Two words he tries to tell you as often as he can.

Steve’s been visiting you at work often, sometimes with food, always with enough to brighten your day. Getting to spend that extra time with him is another perk of working when it’s not busy.

Today, he’s decided to surprise you rather than give you a heads-up over the phone. There’s a takeout bag clutched in his hand, and a little ball of nerves in his stomach. He shouldn’t be nervous, it’s only you. Then again, it’s you.

He opens the bookstore door, the small bell above it jingling. For once, there’s a customer at the register. You glance over at Steve from behind the counter, wiggling your hand in a quick wave before helping your customer again.

And just like that, there’s that feeling in his chest.

Steve waits by one of the displays as you finish up, trying not to make it obvious that he’s looking at you. There’s the soft smile on your face, the tone of your voice, the way the lighting hits your skin. It all has his heart going quicker.

“Hi, Steve,” you greet him once the customer leaves. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“Hi, honey. Kinda the point of surprising you with food.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Hopefully I picked something you like.”

From the packaging he’s seen before in your apartment, he’s pretty sure he did alright, but he waits for your confirmation all the same.

You open the bag he’d set on the counter, a small happy gasp that he likes way too much leaving your mouth, “yay! How’d you know I liked this place?”

He shrugs, “lucky guess.”

There’s a second stool behind the counter, and you pull it up for Steve without a word, patting the seat for him to sit down. He does, consumed by the brush of your arms as you unpack the food, the touch of your knees when you shift in your seat.

“Thanks again, Steve.”

“You already know I owe you for all the meals you’ve made me.”

“And you already know, you don’t owe me anything.”

You’re a kind person, Steve’s known that since he met you. So much so that you don’t even see the value in what you’ve done for him, like it’s the simplest thing for you. It’s the simplest thing to help him.

It makes him want to do things he said he wouldn’t. Things like kiss you.

“Anyway,” he shakes the thought away. “How’s your day been?”

You lift a shoulder as you finish your bite of food before replying, “been okay. I’ve had a couple more people come in than usual, which is good.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I love the quiet in here, love getting to just read behind the counter and call it work. But, it’s also nice to feel useful at least some of the time.”

“That’s good. What’ve you been reading?”

This is a question he loves to ask you, because you get excited to respond every time. He loves to watch you grab the book and show it to him, to see your hands flick through the pages as you tell him what it’s about, to watch the way your mouth forms the words you speak.

He loves to ask you, because he loves to listen to your voice when you answer. That word’s been in his head a lot lately. Love.

So much that he’s not sure it ever really leaves. It’s a lingering whisper, growing louder when he’s with you. Even after you eat, after the food’s been cleaned, as he walks out the door, the word stays.

“Bye, Steve, see you later!” You say as he reaches for the door handle.

He lets himself look at you again before leaving, his eyes lingering for a second too long. “Bye, honey.”

The bell above the door rings again as he leaves, but it isn’t loud enough to cover what’s rushing through Steve’s mind. I love her. I shouldn’t, I can't. I love her.

God, maybe he should talk to Robin again, he thinks. Or, maybe he could avoid the lecture he’s bound to get and take his mind off things the best way he can: putting on the suit.

Turns out that even when he should be focused on patrolling, his mind still likes to wander. That’s probably why he ends up stationed atop the building across from the bookstore, where your closing shift should be ending soon.

He ends up there most nights he knows you’re closing, really.

Before, when he couldn’t even let himself think about his feelings for you, he’d tell himself he stayed near the bookstore because it was a shadier area, more alleyways and all that. Now, though it sort of scares him, he’s able to acknowledge that it’s purely to make sure you’re safe.

He has a whole city to be protecting, but if his senses aren’t leading him anywhere else, he’ll always end up near you.

It’s sort of ironic. You, subconsciously looking for Spider-man everywhere you go, him being right there, and you don’t even know it. He’s so, so close.

Steve stationed himself across the street from you about twenty minutes before the shop was meant to close. His eyes squinted on his mask to see if there was anyone seemingly dangerous around, just in case.

Sometimes, when he does this, he can’t stop himself from thinking about that night when he found you in that alley. When his ears were filled with pure static until he knew you were safe. When he kneeled in front of you and brought you home. He doesn’t want you to go through something like that ever again.

The click of the bookshop door closing behind you has Steve’s heightened hearing turned on, knowing that you’re about to lock up and head home.

You feel like there are eyes on you as you walk. But, every time you look behind you, there’s nobody there. You’re just being paranoid, you tell yourself. You’re fine. And really, you are fine, because the eyes aren’t dangerous—though you don’t know it—they belong to Steve.

He hops across buildings as discreetly as he can while following your pace. Walking you home in his own, secret way.

The next thing happens in a complete blur.

You’re crossing at an intersection when a car runs a red light, speeding and crashing into another vehicle. You’re in the street, the two cars screeching on the pavement and heading straight for you. Even if you ran, you wouldn’t be quick enough.

But he was.

Steve jumped down before it even happened, his vision tunneling on that car, on you in its path. He just knew he needed to get to you first. He shot the web, swung down, and scooped you up right before the collision reached you. His heart pounding, his grip on you tight enough to knock the air from your lungs.

He lands and sets you down at the back of an alley, hidden from the bystanders that screamed at the sight of the crash, at the sight of him.

It takes you an entire minute of silence, of your chest heaving and your ears ringing to grasp what had just happened. How close of a call it was, how he was there to save you again.

Your vision is blurred by tears when you look up at him, at the red and blue suit, the mask. Your breathing is quick, panicked, but it slows the slightest bit when you look at him. Spider-man. Steve. The best boy ever.

When your eyes lock onto his face, Steve rushes forward, holding your face in a gentle grasp. It’s frantic, the way his hands shake when he reaches for you, the way his head tilts all over to make sure you’re okay. His thumbs brush away the tears that fall from your eyes, back and forth and back and forth.

“Hey, look at me,” he says, dipping his head down to make you focus on him. “Breathe.”

You shake your head, trying to calm down the best you can after coming so close. Fuck, it was so close. If Steve would’ve been a split-second later, you would’ve been hit. The thought doesn’t help you calm down one bit.

Steve can see the fear in your eyes, the quick rise and fall of your chest. It clenches his heart in a tight, uncomfortable fist, and all he wants to do is help you. So he lets it slip.

“Breathe, honey. Come on.”

Honey.

That’s all the confirmation you’d ever need. You were right. This is Steve. It’s Steve holding your face and saving your life.

You surge forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and his go around your waist instantly.

“Steve,” you breathe out so quietly, only he could have heard it.

His heart sinks and flips at the same time, if that’s even possible. It sinks because you know, somehow, and it terrifies him so much, he’s not sure what to say. But then, it flips, too, because there’s a relief that’s clear in your voice.

“How did you-” he starts, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Steve,” this time, your voice breaks when you say it.

Now isn’t the time to talk about this. Not when you were almost hit, not in public. Not now and not like this, Steve knows that. The break in your voice tells him to push that back for now.

“I’m gonna take you home, okay?”

He can feel you nod against his neck, so he lets go of you with one hand and keeps the other wrapped around you and starts swinging.

Right now, at this second, he’s not worried about how you found out, how you know it’s him. No, he only cares that you’re alive, that he can feel your arms squeezing around his neck, that he can squeeze you back just as tight.

As he swings with you clutching onto him, the realization makes his breathing stutter.

You could’ve died just then. In that fraction of a moment, you could’ve been gone without Steve ever getting the chance to tell you he loves you. He can’t let that happen. He’s gotta tell you.

It scares the absolute shit out of him, but he has to do something. He can’t lose you before working up the courage to tell you how he feels, before having the slightest chance at kissing you again.

He won’t let that happen.

Steve’s very gentle with you, even when he’s swinging from building to building with you in his arms. The sure grip he has around your waist and the smell of his cologne buried under the suit help ground you as wind rushes by.

You’re alive, Steve’s got you, and he knows you know.

Your eyes are squeezed shut the entire way, and in only a couple of minutes, he’s hanging onto the side of his building by his window and thanking himself for (once again) not locking it.

“Hey, honey, can you open the window for me?”

You lift your face from his neck and nod, twisting to lift it open. Steve’s supporting you with one arm and holding the both of you up with the other. The strength he has is incredible, especially when you’re seeing it first hand.

He helps you get into his room with a hand on your lower back, and lifts himself in right after you. You watch Steve’s back beneath the suit as he shuts the window, watch his gloved hands remove the web-shooters from his wrists.

Then, slowly, watch those same hands lift up to the edge of his mask and tug it off.

Your breath catches. You knew it was him, but seeing Steve’s familiar face and its prettiest combination of features be revealed is different, it’s real.

“Wow,” you say, though you hadn’t really meant to. It slipped. “Hi.”

Steve’s had a twist in his gut ever since he found out that you knew about him, and it only tangles more now that you’re looking at him with widened eyes. He doesn’t want things to change with you, and he’s so scared that they will.

What if you don’t want to see him anymore because of this? What if you’re angry with him for keeping it from you? What if you end up hurt because someone wanted to get to him?

“Um, hi.”

You step closer to where he stands by his side table, your hands twisting in front of you like you’re nervous, too.

“You saved me.”

“Just, uh, doing my job,” he says, shrugging it off.

“Well, then, you’re really, really great at what you do.”

You’re trying to be light with the subject, to take it at his pace given it’s his secret, his life. Steve’s quiet for a few moments, a flicker of something you can’t distinguish crossing over his face.

“How’d you know?” Is all he says, but you know exactly what he means by it.

“Saw Spider-man with the exact same injuries as you on the news. I guess I just connected the dots from there.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You reach for his hand and hold it lightly, hoping that maybe, just maybe, your touch can help to ground him as much as his does you.

“Don’t be, okay? I understand why you wouldn’t. I just want to be there for you.”

“I don’t tell anyone, really,” he starts, his grip on your hand tightening as he speaks. “Robin’s the only other person who knows. I don’t want to put anyone in danger so I… I just keep it to myself.”

You squeeze his fingers, trying to show him in any way you can that you aren’t going to run away from this.

“You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, Steve. You can talk to me or knock on my door whenever you’re hurt,” he shakes his head. “You can. I keep my first-aid kit stocked for you.”

“It doesn’t scare you? That you might get hurt because of me?”

“I’m not scared for myself. I’m scared for you. Going out every night and fighting the bad guys. I’m scared that you’ll get hurt, Steve. I’m not worried about me,” he glances down but you step even closer, making him look at you. “If tonight shows anything, it’s that you’ll save me from getting hurt either way.”

Steve’s hand that isn’t holding yours moves up, pushing your hair over your shoulder before landing on your face. The fabric of his glove rests against your jaw, his thumb running over your skin, his eyes searching yours for a single hint of insincerity.

He doesn’t find one.

“You’re really important to me, honey.”

“You’re important to me, too.”

You’re close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips, his forehead a whisper away from yours. Close enough that you catch the way his eyes flick down to your mouth and back up.

“I know I said we shouldn’t-”

“Kiss me, Steve.”

“Okay.”

The hand on your face tilts you upwards, and just like that, he catches your lips with his. You’ve kissed before and still, there’s a rush of butterflies in your stomach, a warmth spreading over your skin the way a blanket of sunlight feels.

It’s slow, it’s delicate, and it means something. There are a thousand words that neither of you can say buried in this kiss, in the gentle press of your lips. Words spoken with the tilt of his head to get closer, the squeeze of his fingers interlocked with yours.

Steve doesn’t ever want to not be able to kiss you again. Not when it feels like this. Acceptance and reassurance, softness and the sort of glowing feeling he’s only ever had around you.

When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far. Your breaths meet between your faces, mingling in the silence that follows. Steve rests his forehead against yours, your noses brushing.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you say. Because you’re still shaken from earlier, because you need the comfort that Steve seems to provide simply by being next to you, because you’re afraid that if you let him out of your sight, he’ll pull away from you again.

“You want me to stay with you?”

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay, honey, I’ll stay.”

As long as you’ll have me, he thinks, I’ll stay.

Steve did stay that night. After you both showered and got ready for bed, there was a moment where he stood—almost nervous—in the doorway of your bedroom. You lifted the covers for him and patted the spot next to you, and that was it.

He stayed for breakfast, too. This time, it was him cooking for you, stood over the stove in your apartment. It’s a sight you could definitely get used to. Then, like he could get any sweeter, he even called into work for you, saying you should at least get a day after what happened the night before. What almost happened.

Really, as scary as the crash had been, what you’d been thinking about the most was the way he kissed you. The way you’d woken up in the middle of the night with his arm around your waist. The way you fell back asleep easily with him there.

It’s what you’ve been thinking about in the days since. What you’re thinking about even now.

You know that something shifted that night, with him finding out that you knew he’s Spider-man, with you being able to reassure him that it won’t push you away. You could feel that shift, like a tectonic plate.

Despite that, things have been quiet and relatively the same with Steve. You haven’t seen him all that much, but when you do it’s still friendly. Friendly with something lingering between you, unspoken and palpable.

It’s dark out now, the evening news playing on your TV the way it so often does. It’s static to you until you see footage of Spider-man from earlier, swinging around and fighting crime again.

Naturally, your first thought is Steve, and whether or not he’s okay. Before, when he didn’t know you knew, you’d keep all this worry to yourself, letting it build and build until you saw him again. Now, though, he knows you know and you can do something about that concern.

You push yourself up from your couch and head to your door. Knocking on his comes easy, and he opens it quickly, like he knew it was you.

“Hi,” he says. There’s a smile pulling at his mouth.

“Hi. Sorry for bothering you, I just- um. I saw the news and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Seeing you on the other side of his door already had Steve’s heart doing this silly flutter in his chest. Knowing you care enough to check on him this way does something else entirely. It floods from head to toe, the feelings he has for you. The ones he’s identified as love.

“I’m okay, promise. Not even a scratch this time.”

You nod, a pressure lifting from your lungs. You breathe a little easier seeing him unharmed. Seeing him in general.

“Okay. Good,” you should probably stop there, turn around and go back to yours, but you don’t. “I was just really worried, y’know, ‘cause I’ve seen you hurt and all, so I just wanted to see you and check-”

“Hey,” he grabs your hand gently, cutting off your rambling and tugging you into his apartment, pushing the door shut behind you. “I swear not every Spider-man thing I do is dangerous.”

“Yeah, okay, because swinging from buildings is super safe.”

“I’m a professional at that. Nothing to worry about.”

The wood of the front door is solid against your back, and Steve’s hand still in yours is the same. Solid, reassuring, sweet. Steve steps just a bit closer to you, so that you’re toe-to-toe and there’s nowhere for you to escape to.

His free hand reaches up to fiddle with the ends of your hair, gentle in a way that almost feels like you dreamt it.

“Did you really only come here to check on me?” He asks.

“Yeah, I did. Is that… okay?”

Steve wants to kiss you for that. He thinks you might want that, too. So, he dips his face closer to yours, lets go of your hand only to hold onto the nape of your neck instead. He hesitates, waits for you to push him away, but you never do.

Instead, you tilt your head and meet him in the middle.

You never knew that kissing someone could be so easy, that you could fit together so well that it just works. But that’s how it is with Steve, and you suppose that’s how it is when you’re in love. The pink haze and heart-shaped touches.

Steve doesn’t think he could ever get sick of kissing you, of feeling so light when things are often so heavy for him. When you pull away, he chases your mouth and steals two, three pecks from you.

Then, to answer your question, he says, “it’s more than okay.”

You only notice now that you aren’t distracted by his mouth on yours that your hands had found their way to his shoulders. It’s impossible not to notice the muscles under his skin, the clear evidence of his strength. Heat spreads through you, and you have to pull your hands away to speak properly.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he tells you. His hand, still on your neck, squeezes so, so lightly. “I know I’ve said that we should only be friends, but that was before. Before you knew, and I was terrified of what could happen to you.”

“What about now?”

“Now…” He takes a deep breath, and focuses his eyes on yours. Whatever he’s about to say, he wants you to know he means it. “Now I can’t stop thinking about you and how it feels to kiss you.”

“I think about you, too.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, and though being honest makes you nervous, the smile that spreads over his face makes it worth it. So does the slight blush of his cheeks.

“I want to take you on a date. If that’s something you’d like.”

“I would really like that, Steve.”

Right then, there’s another shift, a bigger one. You both know there are feelings here. Big, scary feelings that you can’t say out loud yet.

Steve took care of planning the date. He wanted to surprise you, to impress you and do something for you this time. You do enough for him already.

Though Robin assured him—after all of her ‘finally’s and ‘I told you so’s—that it would be great, perfect, even, he’s still nervous when he knocks on your door. He’s shuffling on his feet, puffing out a breath as he waits, and then he sees you and the rest sort of melts away.

You open your door to find Steve with a picnic basket in hand and a slightly windswept bouquet of flowers in the other. You smile as he hands them to you and try to hide it by smelling the flowers.

“Thank you, these are beautiful.”

“‘Course.”

“I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”

Your stomach is a mess of flutters and nerves as you fill up a vase with water and put the flowers in it. Sure, you’ve spent time with Steve alone time and time again, but never like this. It’s exciting and it’s scary, but the welcome kind of scary that comes with new things.

“You’re taking me on a picnic?” You ask, locking your apartment door behind you and then falling into step next to Steve.

“If that’s okay with you?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“My cooking isn’t as great as yours, I have to warn you,” Steve says, holding the door open to the stairwell.

“I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“It’s okay if you don’t, I’m just saying.”

He holds the door at the bottom of the stairs open for you, too. And then the one to exit the building.

As you walk along, Steve leading the way, your nerves fade, replaced with the familiarity and comfort of Steve’s company. Replaced with the feelings that sweep inside you like a huge bubble of pink bubblegum, so close to popping and spilling it all.

You talk aimlessly about anything and everything, and Steve does the same. You both try not to make the little catch in your breaths obvious when your hands brush.

He takes you to a park, one with big trees and a walking trail, with scattered flowers and the fresh smell of nature that makes you feel like you’re not even in the city anymore. He keeps going, and you keep following him, until he finds the spot he’d found before. A small clearing between trees, shaded by their leaves and just enough space for him to spread out the picnic blanket.

“Why have I never found this place myself?” You ask, looking up at the sky through the leaves.

“You like it?”

You nod, sitting down next to him on the blanket he brought. “Thank you for bringing me.”

He shrugs, “thank you for coming.”

You share a smile, a slow spread across your mouths as you look at each other for a moment. A smile saying this is real. Then, like it didn’t even happen, he starts to unpack the food.

Steve can’t even remember the last date he went on, but he knows that it wasn’t anything like this. He’s never felt this light around someone before. Somehow, you turn the bricks that weigh him down into feathers.

You’d thought it before, but you’re sure of it now; Steve is the absolute best boy you’ve ever known. The effort he put into making and packing up the food, the shyness he has about it all, like he should be embarrassed for being sweet to you. You feel unbelievably lucky that you moved into the apartment across from his.

The date goes by in a blink. You and Steve subconsciously moving closer and closer on the blanket, your thighs touching and your arms brushing. The food eaten between conversation and giggles. The picnic basket is now packed up again, the containers empty this time around.

You rest your head on Steve's shoulder and say, “thank you for this.”

Steve’s eyes close for a second, trying to memorize how this feels. He opens them and presses the gentlest kiss onto your head. “You’re welcome, honey.”

You stay that way and breathe each other in, once, then twice. That’s all you allow yourself before you stand and brush yourself off even though you weren’t dirty in the first place. Steve folds up the blanket and places it in the basket, and he stands, too.

This time, as you walk back to your apartment building, when your hands brush, you and Steve feel just a bit more confident, enough to reach your pinkies out to each other and lock them.

Steve’s the one who fully grabs onto your hand, letting your fingers intertwine. It’s how they’re meant to be, he thinks, two pieces of the same puzzle that just happen to fit together. You don’t let go for the entire walk.

Outside your building, neither of you really want to say goodbye, to end the date that feels like the beginning of something really, really good.

But, just as Steve lets go of your hand to reach for the door, he feels it. The tingling over his skin, the goosebumps, the static in his ears. He blinks and turns to you.

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop, it’s okay. Just be safe.”

He’ll never understand how you’re so understanding, how you accept it so quickly. All he knows is he loves you for it and so much more.

“Thank you, honey.”

He presses the quickest kiss to your cheek, sets down the picnic basket, and then runs into the alleyway on the side of the building. When he emerges, he’s in his suit and swinging off.

He’d been wearing it under his clothes. Always prepared.

You pick up the picnic basket and walk up to your apartment half convinced that the last few hours have been some sort of dream. Too good to be true.

The issue that had Steve’s senses coming alive didn’t take long to handle. Still, he stayed out to continue patrolling, worried that something else could happen. Worried that it might be too soon to go back and see you again.

Not seeing you didn’t erase you from his thoughts. Not one bit. He spent the hours in the suit waiting for the city to die down, waiting for the moment his senses would quiet down enough to let him know he was done for the night.

All because he wanted to see you, kiss you. God, he’s so fucked.

You were faring pretty much the same. Only, you’d changed into your pajamas rather than a superhero suit, laying around on your bed with a book in hand to hear knocks on your door. Or, at the very least, to hear him get home safe.

When the knock comes, it isn’t on your door. Instead, there’s a tapping on your bedroom window by the fire escape. As soon as you hear it, you shut your book and turn towards your window, and there he is.

Steve hangs upside down, his head level with yours when you open the window to talk to him. If you weren’t so busy being in love with him, the sight would be sort of funny.

“Well hello, Spider-man,” you say, leaning your hands against the windowsill.

“Hey, honey.”

“You aren’t hurt are you?” You ask, moving your hands to hold his face, because you’ve seen him injured enough times to be worried about that, to know it’s a possibility.

“I’m completely fine.”

“You’re really okay?”

“Nothing hurts, I promise,” he says, shaking his head. How could it when you’re holding him like that, looking at him like that. Pain isn’t what he’s feeling in the slightest.

You’re not really thinking when you lean in and peck his cheek over the mask, but it’s enough to scorch his skin, to leave an invisible mark.

And Steve isn’t really thinking when he speaks, “have I ever told you that I think you’re really pretty?”

“You’re upside down,” you tell him, fighting a stupid, lovesick smile. “You must be seeing wrong.”

He ignores that comment and twists himself upright, then climbs through your window into your apartment. You have to back up to make room for him, and when his feet hit the hardwood floors, he’s only inches away.

“I’m right side up now. Still think you’re pretty.”

You’ve never been good at taking compliments, never really thought that people meant them, only that they were trying to be kind. Steve is different. You still don’t believe it yourself, but you can tell that he does. His voice holds enough emotion to do that.

Bashful, you walk around him to shut your window and then lock it. You try to keep your feelings off of your face when you turn back around and find him already facing you, his mask now off and clutched in his hand.

His hair is a mess on his head, his cheeks flushed from being upside down and maybe, just maybe from being so close to you.

“So, what brought you to my window?” You ask.

“I wanted to say sorry,” he says, scratching at his neck. That habit of his. “For leaving the way I did earlier.”

It’s a half truth. He wanted to apologize for that. But, mostly, he wanted to tell you he loves you. He’d been thinking about it his whole patrol. Thinking about when the right time would be then remembering how quickly things can change, how you’d almost been hit not so long ago.

With that, he decided that there wasn’t a right time, that he could lose you just like that and he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let that happen. Especially not without telling you how he feels.

But, he’s always been more courageous with that mask on, and now, he just can’t get the words to leave his mouth. They hover on the top of his tongue, sticky and heavy.

“I told you it’s okay, Steve. I swear,” you step closer to him and reach for his hand, tugging the glove off before lacing your fingers with his. “I know that you had to, that this is a part of you and I’d never expect you to change or ignore it. I-“ love you, you almost say. But the words get stuck for you, too. “I care about you so much. Spider-man included.”

Every time Steve worries, even the slightest bit, that you’ll feel differently about him because of this, you prove him wrong. You say all the right things to make him feel better, to make him want to fall into you completely and never look back.

You’ve proven to him over and over that you’re in this, that you’re this dream of a girl that somehow ended up in his mess of a life. A mess you’re willing to join, helping him clean it without even trying.

You’re a dream, his dream, and he has to say it. He has to say it so he does, those sticky words forced off of his tongue in a breath.

“I love you.”

He squeezes your hand on the second word, like he’s emphasizing it. Love.

“I love you,” he says again, and you realize you’re not dreaming. He really said it, and he’s really looking at you that way with those soft, brown eyes. “You don’t have to say it, I just needed to tell you. I’ve never had someone make me feel the way you do. Never.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

Your heart pounds, thumps.

“I love you, too.”

“Serious?” He checks, because he thinks he dreamt it just like you had.

So you repeat it for him, “I love you, Steve.”

He leans in, not so afraid anymore, and places a hand on your neck, his fingers in your hair. The other hand squeezes yours again before letting go to frame your jaw and tilt your mouth to his.

It’s an easy rhythm to fall into now. Kissing him. And you feel yourself melt into him, your muscles relaxing, your body pushing towards his. Your arms are thrown around his neck, and all you feel is him.

It’s a delicate push and pull, a kiss that’s familiar but now has something new behind it. That acknowledged emotion, the reality of it. It has his tongue sweeping against the seam of your lips and dipping in when they part.

His hand is tangled tighter in your hair, and you’re not sure how long it’s been before you both pull away, breathless, chests heaving, matching smiles on your lips. Your noses still brush, and still, it doesn’t feel close enough.

Steve’s hands shift to run down your shoulders, then your arms, and back and forth.

“Does this mean I’m your girlfriend?” You ask, still breathing heavy, still feeling his breath fan across your lips.

“I’d like to think so,” he says, his hands now settled around your forearms. “If that’s what you want.”

You nod, kiss him quick. “Does it also mean you’ll stay the night?”

“As long as I can use your shower first,” he says.

“Good idea.”

“You saying I smell?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek. He smiles, and in turn, so do you, and it feels like the closest thing to perfect there could ever be.

Steve emerges from your bathroom with damp hair falling over his forehead and your clothes on instead of his suit. You lent him a t-shirt and a baggy pair of sweats that are still a bit too short at his ankles. You grin when you notice that.

And Steve grins when he sees you. My girl, he thinks. And it’s for real this time.

You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent and your book in your hands yet again. You needed to occupy yourself while he was showering, after all. Otherwise, you’d just think and think and think about him in the next room, his mouth on yours. His voice saying the words ‘I love you.’

He walks over and sits on the bed by your feet, his side facing you, but his head turned to look at you. Seeing him in your clothes, in your space, you think it’s something you’d like to see forever. Seeing you waiting for him in bed, Steve’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Hi,” you say.

Steve wraps a hand around your bare ankle, his thumb smoothing back and forth. “Hi.”

Though everything’s out in the open now, there’s a shyness there. Like two kids with crushes wondering what to do next. You’ve never loved each other out loud before today. It’s brand new territory.

But with that shyness, there’s so much more. There’s the knowledge of how it feels to kiss each other, to hold each other. There’s want to do it all again.

Steve’s other hand reaches for your book and sets it open and face-down on your nightstand. Then, he pushes your knees over so that he can lean in. He’s not fully thinking about what he’s doing, he’s simply listening to this thread that pulls him closer and closer to you until he’s kissing you again.

It starts with a couple of pecks, innocent, soft, quick. It turns into more and somewhere along the way you’re tugged into Steve’s lap, your knees on either side of one of his thighs. And somewhere along the way Steve’s hands have ventured under your shirt, running across your waist and up and down your back. He groans into your mouth when he notices the lack of a bra.

Steve tugs you impossibly closer to him, tugs you down so that you’re straddling his thigh with all of your weight. You inhale sharp and quick through your nose when he does.

It’s not long after that before you’re panting, unable to keep up with his mouth, and though Steve’s chest heaves, too, he doesn’t take the break to breathe properly. Instead, he dips his head to kiss your jaw, then your neck.

Your head tilts for him easily, an arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other tangled in the hair at the bale of his neck. You gasp when his teeth scrape against the skin behind your ear, your hips hurting unconsciously to rut against his thigh.

“Sorry,” you say, worried it was too much. Still, it comes out breathily.

He pulls back from your neck, looks into your eyes, his brown ones just a bit darker than usual. “Did that feel good?”

Your eyes search his face for an ounce of discomfort, of uncertainty. All you see is the kind of warmth that spreads through you, the kind of intensity that only comes with lust.

“Yes.”

“Do it again,” he tells you, his hands slipping down to rest just above the waistband of your shorts. He encourages you to move, his hands pushing and pulling. You move with him, slowly at first, letting out the smallest whimper when the angle is just right. At the sound, Steve says, “keep doing it.”

“Steve.”

“You’re okay,” his hands urge you forward again, his thumbs running back and forth soothingly. “I wanna make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, because how could you not when it already feels so good, when he’s looking at you with kiss-swollen lips, messy hair, and wide pupils. When he’s looking at you like it feels as good for him as it does for you.

You move quicker, his hands encouraging you still. He kisses you again, kisses you until you have to pull away, your mouth dropping open, a moan slipping out before you can stop it.

Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and keep it, listen to it over and over. Because he’s the one who’s making you feel that way, he’s the one who has your hand tight in his hair. Because he’s thought about you before, and it’s nothing compared to the real thing.

The sweatpants you lent him grow a bit tighter, and his hands don’t stop guiding you over him. He wants to hear you make that noise again.

You drop your forehead to his shoulder, your thighs tightening around his, your clit catching on the fabric of your shorts and his (your) sweatpants enough to make you moan again.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good.”

It’s the first time he’s ever called you ‘baby’ and you hope it won’t be the last.

“Steve.”

“I’ve got you.”

The hand that isn’t in his hair trails down his torso and rests above the waistband of his pants for a second. Your hand cups him over his pants, squeezing lightly and finding him hard. Watching you was enough to turn him on, and the thought makes you whimper again.

“Fuck. You don’t have to,” he says, taking a hand from your waist to pull your face from his shoulder, to look at you.

“Want you to feel good, too.”

There’s nothing but honesty in your words, want in your eyes.

“Shit, honey.”

“Will you let me?” You ask, your voice slightly strained from the stimulation you feel, your hips still moving.

“Yeah.”

Your hand slips under the waistband with his consent, and you wrap it around him, your thumb running over his tip. He groans and leans his forehead against yours.

You’re breathing the same air, moving at the same pace, and you don’t think it’s ever felt this right with anyone before. With Steve, you’re not thinking about how you might look and whether or not he’ll like it, you’re only thinking about being with him.

“I’ve thought about you before. Like this,” he says, a quiet confession broken up by heavy breaths.

“Me, too,” you reply in a gasp.

His hands are both on your waist again, squeezing your skin tighter because you have a hand wrapped around his cock and it has his head spinning.

“You getting close, baby?”

“Yeah, Steve. So good.”

“I know. Keep going. I wanna see you.”

His voice is tight, and he’s holding himself back though it hasn’t been long. Your hand is soft, running up and down and he hasn’t been with someone in so long. The fact that it’s you, right now, doesn’t help him last. Just kissing you would be enough, he thinks.

Your rhythm stutters, your eyes squeezing shut, and just like that, you’re tipping over the edge and coming on his thigh.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he hums, low and scratchy. “That’s it. Look so pretty coming on me.”

Your hand pauses where it was jerking him off, too caught up in your orgasm to keep going. You say his name, say it again, and he keeps you moving over him through it all.

“Fuck,” you open your eyes when the last wave draws away, your legs shaking slightly.

It doesn’t take you long to start stroking him again, up and down and back again. Steve grunts and his hips stutter upwards, chasing your touch. It’s your turn to work him through it.

“Gonna come, honey,” he warns you. “I’ll ruin your sweats.”

“Don’t care,” you say, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I want you to.”

You run your thumb across the tip again and then his fingers are digging into your skin. He’s groaning and you feel the warmth of his come spill onto your hand. Neither of you had taken any clothes off and still, it’s the best you’ve ever had.

“Shit, honey.” This time it’s his head that rests against your shoulder. “I’m gonna need another shower now.”

You laugh breathily and pull your hand from his pants, wiping it off on the thigh you’re not sitting on, ‘cause they’re already ruined, anyway.

“I’ll get you another pair,” you say.

“In a minute. Can’t move.”

A minute is closer to five, and eventually he lets you go. You hand him a new pair of sweatpants, then clean up in the bathroom and change into different shorts. When you come back, he’s laying down under the covers in your bed. Twin smiles spread on your faces.

“You’re cute,” you tell him.

“So are you.”

You shake your head and flick your light off, the street lights flooding through your window the only thing left illuminating your room. You join him under the covers, and he doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you and pull you into his chest.

Your head rests by his shoulder, one of your legs thrown over his. Having him laying next to you is much more comfortable than being alone.

“I love you,” Steve says, his lips pushing a kiss into your hair.

“I love you,” you say right back.

And then, just like you’d imagined so many times before, you fall asleep cuddling Steve. And just like he’s imagined so many times before, you wake up that way, too.

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

thank you guys so much for reading spidey!steve i hope u liked it!!!! pls pls consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought, i promise it makes a difference <333

1K notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 8 months

Text

Bulletproof (3/?)

Part Summary: But she just keeps on murmuring, lost in her dream. You try to make sense of her muffled words, but it's hard. And then, out of nowhere, she sighs your name. It's not loud, but it's filled with a kind of longing. Your heart skips a beat. She's dreaming about you.

Or the one where Wanda accidentally pulls you into a very vivid dream

Chapter word count: 2.8k+ | Tags: Slight Somno, Explicit Dream Sharing, Sharing A Bed, Mutual Pining, Maybe Resolved Sexual Tension | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's notes: I have no explanation for this, Your Honor.

Series Masterlist

The sleeping arrangement becomes less complicated following your return to Wanda’s room, days after you splurged on a hotel suite.

It’s less complicated in a sense that Wanda did away with the pillow barrier and began sleeping on the bed with an ease, almost as if you weren't there. While you found her newfound nonchalance puzzling, you've learned your lesson about making assumptions. After the recent embarrassment, you've become more careful about reading too much into things.

But with the pillow gone, so too was Wanda's warmth that you'd grown accustomed to when you first started sharing her space.

The soft "good morning" greetings, ones that used to set a gentle tone for the day, disappeared. Most mornings, she's up before you, the other side of the bed cool to the touch. On the rare occasion you do wake up before her, you hustle through your morning routine, eager to vacate the space. You hope this gives her the peace of a bathroom unoccupied and the luxury of starting her day in solitude, without the need to navigate around someone else in her sanctuary.

However, as days meld into one another, you notice that Wanda's behavior has reverted to how it was in the beginning–not cold, but seemingly indifferent. The occasional smile she throws your way feels more like a courtesy, perhaps an acknowledgment for saving her life, rather than a desire to be your friend. When you talk, the conversations remain on the surface, never diving deep. Gone are the days of sharing little secrets, dreams, or thoughts; now, the chats are cordial, almost scripted.

She said everything was okay, but it sure doesn't feel like it. That awkward moment with her pillow keeps replaying in your mind. Every silence between you two makes you wonder if you really did make her uncomfortable.

As the day wraps up, you get into bed and notice Wanda's already asleep, facing away. You let out a deep sigh. You can't keep avoiding the topic. Listening to her steady breathing, you decide: tomorrow, you'll talk to her and try to fix things between you two.

Except, something unexpected happens in the middle of the night.

Still deep in slumber, Wanda drifts over to your side, her leg carelessly resting on yours as she nestles closer, with your arm inadvertently near her chest.

From your time sharing the bed, you've come to understand that Wanda can sleep soundly through almost anything.

Yet, as you carefully attempt to wriggle out from beneath her embrace, wanting to give her more space, it has the opposite effect. Wanda's grasp tightens, pulling you closer. Before you can fully comprehend the shift, she's straddling your thigh. A sudden heat radiates from her core, making contact with your leg, and an involuntary gasp escapes your lips.

In her deep slumber, Wanda starts to murmur softly, words flowing in Sokovian. Her voice, hushed and sultry even in sleep, becomes the most tantalizing sound you've ever heard.

You can feel the faint brush of her lips against your neck, sending ripples of anticipation down your spine. Her fingers begin to dance lightly across your exposed abdomen, each touch igniting a spark that makes you swallow hard. This is uncharted territory, teetering on a delicate edge.

Overwhelmed, you can only manage a soft, “Wanda?” hoping it might wake her up.

But she just keeps on murmuring, lost in her dream. You try to make sense of her muffled words, but it's hard. And then, out of nowhere, she sighs your name. It's not loud, but it's filled with a kind of longing.

Your heart skips a beat. She's dreaming about you.

But before you can articulate what this means, an arresting image takes shape in your mind: the bed beneath you creaking softly as Wanda, devoid of any garments, moves atop you. Her head is thrown back, a cascade of her hair tumbling down her back, her face etched with raw emotion. The soft, dim light of the room captures the gentle curve of her breasts, her erect nipples, rising and falling in time with her rhythmic movements. Each bounce, each motion pulls you deeper into the vision.

It must be Wanda's powers. Steve once tried to explain the intricacies of her abilities, but all you gathered was that she could craft intense illusions in one's mind.

You never imagined you'd experience it firsthand. Especially not in such a... provocative manner.

As quickly as that consuming image formed in your mind, it's torn away, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You feel a rhythmic motion against your leg. It's Wanda. The dampness of her panties seeps onto your skin, unmistakably warm and wet. Each subtle movement of her hips sends a tangible pulse through the both of you.

In your desperation, you whisper, “Wanda?” trying to pull both of you from the heated dream world. But as you reach out to her, another overwhelming image infiltrates your thoughts.

This vision is even more raunchy. Wanda's thighs frame your view, her glistening core just inches from your face. You can see every detail: the way her soft folds part for you, inviting, enticing. Hesitantly, your tongue reaches out, sinking into her. The scent of Wanda, both heady and sweet, envelops you. A moan escapes your lips, relishing that first taste—you from the dream and quite possibly, the real you. You delve deeper, your tongue exploring, stretching her, teasing every sensitive spot. With each push of your tongue, Wanda gasps, her moans getting louder. She rides your face with abandon, grinding down against you, chasing her pleasure.

The vision recedes, much like the previous one, leaving behind an unsuspecting Wanda nestled against you.

The line between what's real and what's in your mind becomes dangerously thin. Wanda's fingers clutch at your waist with a desperate strength as she grinds fervently against your leg.

You can't help but let out a moan, “God, Wanda…” The pleasure is as much yours as it is hers.

Any caution, any reservations you held onto, start to slip away.

Your thigh instinctively rises, pressing tighter to Wanda, matching the urgency of her grind. Her breathy moans become more desperate, and you can feel the tension in her body as she gets closer.

“Ah, Y/N…” Wanda hisses, and for a moment, you think she has finally woken up. But when you risk a glance down, her eyes are still firmly shut, the rocking motion of her hips becoming more frantic.

The tension builds, and soon Wanda's entire frame stiffens. As she crests the wave of her climax, you can feel her wetness, warm and abundant, seeping through onto your leg. The sharp bite on your shoulder punctuates the moment, her moan echoing softly in your ear.

As her tremors subside, Wanda's weight presses into you more heavily, her chest heaving against your side. You can't help but glance at the evidence of her release smeared on your leg. On an impulse, you gather the moisture with your fingers, hesitating just for a brief second before tasting her. The slightly sweet, unmistakably intimate taste causes a shudder to travel through your body. The throbbing heat between your own legs becomes nearly unbearable, making you shift restlessly beneath her.

Wanda rolls away, and suddenly, it's like a splash of cold water hits you. You just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking, what the hell just happened. The warm fuzziness from earlier turns to guilt. You can't help but wonder if you crossed a line, even if it was all so unintentional.

You can't take the weight of it any longer. Every second on that bed, every rustle of the sheets is a cruel reminder. Quietly, you slip out of the bed, taking one last glance at Wanda, her form peaceful, oblivious to the storm inside your head.

The cold floor greets your feet as you head towards the door. Your steps echo, each one sounding heavier than the last. The corridor outside seems darker than you remember, but maybe it's just your mood. You keep your head down, not wanting anyone to see the guilt written all over your face.

The door to your cell looms ahead, and entering feels like you're punishing yourself, willingly locking yourself away. But in some twisted way, it feels like what you deserve right now. The cold walls seem like old friends, and the thin mattress beckons you to lie down. The bite on your shoulder pulses with every heartbeat, and you hug your knees close, trying to find solace in the dark.

The hope now is that sleep, if it eventually comes, will help you find clarity or at least forget, if only for a few hours.

The next morning, Wanda stirs, her hand lazily reaching out to the space next to her, expecting to meet warmth. Instead, the sheets are cold, the bed emptier than she remembered.

Yawning, she stretches her limbs, and that's when she feels it – the discomfort between her legs. The sticky reminder of her dream. Her face turns crimson, and she's momentarily taken aback, but soon gratitude takes over as she realizes you're not there to witness her state.

Shuffling out of bed to freshen up, the water from the showerhead splashing on her helps clear her head. Yet, as much as she tries to banish the thoughts, the memories remain persistent. Since the day she walked in on you with her pillow, an image has planted itself firmly in her mind. The visual of your naked form, vulnerable, lost in pleasure—it was an image she couldn’t shake off.

Wanda has been skillfully evading you for days. While shared spaces in the facility meant you were bound to cross paths, Wanda became remarkably adept at staying out of sight. You'd walk into the dining area, she'd just be leaving. You'd be heading to the training room, and she'd abruptly turn, murmuring about forgetting something.

It's not that she's afraid of confrontation. It's the exact opposite. She fears the pull she feels toward you, the visceral need to close the distance. And with the memory of that day—of catching you so intimately involved with her pillow—she fears she might not be able to control herself. The trajectory your relationship has taken prior, the slow-build of a bond, was at a dangerous tipping point. All it might take is one lingering gaze, one innocent touch, and she worries that restraint would crumble.

(She believes she's keeping her feelings hidden, contained within her, but the truth is, they already surfaced in the most unexpected way. If only she knew.)

Throughout the day, you remain conspicuously absent from the usual spots in the compound, making Wanda's self-imposed avoidance unexpectedly effortless.

Wanda tries not to think about it too much, assuming you were called away on a mission.

As the night deepens, Wanda finds herself glancing repeatedly at the door, anticipating your return. She adjusts the sheets, fluffs the pillows, and even listens for any signs of movement outside her room.

But the hours tick by, and you never show.

As another day passes and another night comes, Wanda's worry deepens. Every night, she finds herself waiting, hoping you'd walk in. But you never do. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she finally turns to Vision, the only person in the compound who always seems to know where everyone is.

“Vision?” she begins hesitantly, catching him in one of the quiet hallways.

Vision blinks at her, his eyes briefly flickering in that peculiar way of his, as though processing data. “Wanda,” he begins, his tone always measured, “What do you need?”

"It's about Y/N. Have you seen them? They haven't been back to my room in days," she blurts out, a little more desperately than she intended.

Vision pauses, analyzing for a moment. “I have noticed that they've been spending a significant amount of time in their old cell. They've mostly remained isolated.”

Wanda's heart sinks. The thought of you confining yourself to that cold, lonely cell pricks at her heart. “Did something happen? Did they get a mission or…”

Vision interrupts gently, “No mission, Wanda. As far as I'm aware, they've chosen to stay there.”

Wanda's throat tightens, the realization that her behavior might have indirectly pushed you away, making her nauseous.

“Thank you, Vision,” she says softly, her voice wavering slightly.

She needs to find you, to talk things through, to clear the air.

Whatever it takes to pull you once again out of that goddamn cell.

You're there, curled into a tight ball, deep in slumber when Wanda finds you just moments later. The soft rise and fall of your chest is the only indication of life in the otherwise still cell.

Wanda pauses at the doorway, taking in the sight of you. Her eyes slide over your arms, noticing the muscle lines even in sleep. She looks up to your face, which seems so calm and quiet. Your lips are just slightly open, and she wonders what you might be dreaming about.

But then the reality of the scene hits her.

The cold, unyielding floor you're sleeping on, the way you've curled up, trying to find some comfort where there's none. It’s a far cry from the soft bed upstairs, and a pang of guilt hits her hard. She’s been so focused on avoiding you, she didn’t think about where you'd end up.

This isn’t right, and deep down, she knew it.

With cautious steps, Wanda approaches you, her fingers itching to reach out and pull you into her arms. But she resists, instead crouching beside you.

“Y/N,” she whispers gently, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder, giving it a light shake.

You stir, eyelids fluttering open to meet her concerned gaze. For a brief second, confusion paints your features, but as recognition dawns, you sit up abruptly, creating distance.

“Wanda? What are you doing here?”

She takes a deep breath, looking a bit anxious. “We need to talk.”

You shuffle backwards as Wanda catches the slight distance in your eyes, realizing that her recent coldness has probably hurt you more than she thought.

You say nothing and hug your knees to your chest, half of your face hidden from Wanda.

She hesitates, and then slowly says, “I know why you've been hiding in here.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Images flash before your eyes, moments from that night replaying, guilt flooding you once again. “Look, Wanda, I know what I did, and... and that's why I'm here,” you stutter out, pointing to the bleak surroundings of the cell. “It's where I deserve to be.”

Wanda, however, looks perplexed. “Wait, what are you talking about? I'm here because I've been... avoiding you. And you've been avoiding me… hence, you coming back to this cell, right?” She genuinely seems unaware of what you're alluding to, which only confuses and surprises you more.

Shit.

Now it's you who have to explain.

But you remain mute, eyes darting everywhere but at the wary girl in front of you.

“Y/N,” Wanda prods.

You're convinced that this is it. Surely, with the power she possesses, she'd obliterate you right here and now for crossing such a line. Because you have no choice now but to tell her the truth.

“I…” You hesitate, taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to confess your sin. “That night you came close to me in your sleep... I woke up to it, to you... acting out your dream on me.” Your face flushes as you meet her gaze, expecting disgust or anger. “I didn't stop it, Wanda. I should have woken you up, pulled away, but I didn’t. I... I let it happen. I’m so sorry.”

Wanda's eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush a bright red. “You... you did what?”

You'd think her tomato-red cheeks were cute if the situation wasn't so mortifying. But right now, it's clear she's grappling with what you just said. She stammers, trying to find her words. “I... I had no idea.”

For a brief moment, memories of waking up with a sticky sensation between her legs and remnants of a vivid dream about you come flooding back. Wanda never thought she'd acted on it, not in reality. The realization is mortifying, but also, she can't help the faint flutter of excitement that twists in her stomach, thinking about how you let it happen.

“I... I can't believe it,” she whispers, torn between embarrassment and something… forbidden.

For a drawn-out minute, neither of you shifts. It's as if you're both frozen, trapped in the aftershocks of your confession and Wanda's conflicting reactions to it. But before either of you gets the courage to make the first move, the cell door clangs open loudly.

Both of you jump, startled by the sudden intrusion.

Steve Rogers strides in, looking relieved. “There you are, Y/N. And Wanda?” His brows raise in surprise, likely not expecting to find the two of you in your old cell.

“I have some good news. Wanda, you can have your room to yourself from now on.”

Wanda blinks, looking both relieved and disappointed. But before she can voice any of it, Steve turns to you with a small smile.

“Because Tony has now assigned yours.”

#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

776 notes · View notes

fuxuannie · 11 months

Note

🐠 haii for the requests milestone thingy could u do pavitr prabhakar x reader and the prompt “are we ab to kiss rn” and then the other actually leans in? c: TY IF U CAN ‼️❤️💖

↳ pairing : pavtir prabhakar x g-neutral reader

↳ synopsis : request ♡

↳ authors note : EUEEUEEU this is sosososo cute actually, i love this idea sm. ATSV SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT !!! im not entirely sure if i like this.. bute eeurrueue i tried my best

You and PAVITR had known each other for a while, long enough that he trusts you with his secret of being Spiderman with how close you two were.

Now you were on one of the tallest buildings in Mumbattan, swinging your feet over the ledge as Pavitr sat beside you with his hand unintentionally holding onto yours firmly since there was a small bit of lingering fear at the idea of you falling.

"Jeez, finally.. a break." He sighs in relief, taking off his mask with his free hand as you chuckle. "Isn't being Spiderman supposed to be sooo easy, Pav?" You teased, watching him roll his eyes in amusement. "Well, of course it is. But it certainly is busy, and I really just wanna spend time with you." Pavitr answers honestly, noticing how you seemed to be even just a little surprised and he was very entertained by that idea. You can already see his own little smirk beginning to form.

You clear your throat to hopefully shift the topic. "What made you so burnt-out today then?"

It didn't take long for you to see how his face shifts to a frown, and you knew exactly what he was about to bring up. "Miguel.. he's been so hard on some of us recently, especially the new-comers who he introduced the 'canon events' to." Pavitr runs a hand through his hair, his sigh was a mix of sadness and frustration as he recalls the events that occured earlier in the day. "They just want to save their loved ones.. no one can accept that kind of information and simply allow it to happen, you know?"

You nod along with his statement, unable to even imagine the dread those people must feel, just waiting for the people they care about most to die for their own development.

"But that's a sad topic, and today is supposed to be a nice resting day for the both of us." Pavitr smiles a little to lighten the mood, squeezing your hand softly as you take a deep breath. "Mines not been the best either.."

The smile he tries to hold falters at those words.

"Mom.. she's still very insistent on the arranged marriage." You let out a forced and bitter laugh. "I don't.. I mean, I don't know if I want to marry that person when I'm older. I've met them twice, Pav. And in the future, I have to spend every single loving who is essentially a stranger. Isn't that even a little weird in my parents eyes?"

He hated seeing how hopeless you looked, having no choice in who you want to love is devestating and in some cases lonely. Seeing real couples on the street and wondering what kind of innocent love you're likely missing out on.

Pavitr stands up and your head follows him as he does so, watching his determination-filled face as he pulls you up with ease. "Let's not wallow in sadness, yes? I'd much rather see you smile than frown." His hand makes its way to your cheek, causing you to chuckle softly as you lean into the touch and place your hand over his. "Thanks, Pav."

And without thinking, the next sentence you manage to stupidly utter out is; "Gosh, I wish you were the one I married instead."

You can see the visible surprise in his face when you say that, before you realize what exactly escaped your lips. "W-wait..-"

But it seems like Pavitr seems more affected than you, the hand once placed on your cheek immediately pulled back to cover his mouth and the uncontrollable but flustered smile on his face.

"You want to marry me??"

Instead of a mocking or angry tone, he seems genuinely happy that the person he's had a secret crush on for year or so finally gives some sort of hint that he's more than a friend.

"Do you mean it? Like.. really mean it?"

"I mean, yeah! Anyone would want to marry you.."

There's silence exchanged between the two of you, staring at each other in confusion, disbelief and surprise.

"What? Are we about to kiss right now?"

Pavitr teased to ease his nerves, but imagine how much worse they got when you actually started to lean in. He begins to quietly panic, however in all honesty he wants to do nothing else but kiss you at the moment. What if he never gets the chance to do it again? He couldn't risk that.

He finally presses his lips against yours, albeit very very nervously but a kiss is a kiss and goodness is he into it. Pavitr melts into the intimacy, but is very quick to pull away incase you're uncomfortable.

It seems almost impossible how fast his heart is racing when he watches your eyes flutter open and the realization that you actually kissed Pavitr rushes through your head quickly.

...

"Can we do that again..?"

"Gladly."

#˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ bailu's candy stash #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader

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bet-on-me-13 · 5 months

Text

Oliver Adopts Danny

(Note: I have no idea what exactly happened on the island and made up my own thing. Also I had no plan when making this and it shows)

...

So! When Oliver landed on that Deserted Island, he wasn't alone.

On the Island, there was a Little Kid.

He was about 7, and he was just as confused as to why he was there. Apparently he had been sleeping at home when all of a sudden he felt himself falling, and seconds later he hit the ground in the forest. He couldn't remember anything past that, or really anything before that as well. He had seemingly lost his memories.

So, Oliver was stuck helping a Random Kid while trying to survive on the island.

He did learn that the Kid was a Metahuman with the ability to make Unmelting Ice, but the kid seemed disappointed by his powers. It was like he expected them to be stronger than they were. When asked, he said that he didn't actually know why he felt that, like it was something else he had forgotten.

And that was how the situation stood for a few years. He and the Kid, who he eventually learned was named Danny, became closer. He took up a paternal role in the kids Life, trying to keep him safe from the dangers of the island.

Danny was also a huge help on the island, his Ice was useful during Hot Nights, and the fact that it was Durable and Didn't Melt made it a good material for their tools. He also knew a lot of random skills, like the basics of how to shoot a Bow and how to set up a Campfire.

By the time they had been there for 3 years, Oliver already saw Danny like a Son. He had decided long ago that when they finally left the island, he would adopt him.

Then, on the 4th Year, Oliver found something strange. There were tracks in the Dirt on the less explored side of the Island, Human Tracks.

Following them, he found the source, An Illegal Slave Trading Ring.

The Base seemed to be new, so they had probably set up shop a few weeks ago at most. He and Danny must have missed them because they didn't usually go to that side of the Island.

He returned to the Camp that night and contemplated what to do.

It took another few days for him to resolve himself to go and save those people.

It took another few weeks to prepare himself.

It took less than 30 minutes to get the Job Done.

By the end of that night, every Slaver on the island was Dead, and the slaves were set free. They still didn't have a way off the island, since a few of them had managed to sabotage the boat before they died, but Oliver and Danny were there to help them.

By the 5th Year, they basically had a Small Village set up back there their Camp used to be. It was a community of all of the people Oliver had managed to save that night, all working together to survive on that Mysterious Island.

Then one day, finally got some luck. A Fishing Boat had gotten lost on their usual Route, and had spotted the SOS Signal that they had set up on the Beach.

After that it didn't take long for everyone on the Island to be saved. Oliver asked the former slaves to keep his heroics a secret because he wanted to keep him and Danny safe from the press, and they all agreed.

So, Oliver went home and adopted Danny.

He also decided to become a Vigilante.

And then eventually he joined the Justice League.

And one day while showing his son around the newly build Watchtower he ran into Constantine, who then proceeded to ask "Why the hell do you have a mini-death god holding your hand?"

...

I have no idea what this was supposed to be. I wanted Oliver to adopt Danny, and I wanted it to be on the Island, but I had no idea how to do it.

My basic idea for it is that Danny accidently wished for a Good Dad one day and Desiree heard him. So she turned him into a Kid, sealed away most of his Powers, and sent him to the Island with no memories past age 7.

Maybe this was "Ghost King Danny"?

Idk, I like it more as "King Danny who rejects the Throne but is still basically the leader because he keeps helping people no matter what" but that's just me.

Thoughts?

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spooky-holtz · 19 days

Text

Sicilian Scheming

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Prompt: "I seen you were looking for ideas for fics and was wondering if you’d write one where Mellisa’s Nona comes to visit her at Abbot during summer planning where she meets teacher Reader and essentially forces them to go on a date together even though they don’t get along well but they end up really hitting it off then a time skip to their wedding where Nona’s bragging about getting them together?"

I've diverted from the prompt a little but the core of it still stands. Strap in.

--------------------

Make no mistake, you absolutely love teaching the third grade but by the time summer comes around, you’re glad to see them go. Summer vacation gives you a chance to relax and enjoy your time away from the stuffy brick building that is Abbott Elementary, spending weeks at a time curled up on the window ledge of your apartment basking in the sun with a good novel and often a crisp glass of wine.

You rarely get chance to see your co-workers save for the coffee dates you have with Janine, often meeting the smaller woman around the corner from her home to sit and chat in the large glass windows as the rest of the world passes by. You spend hours at a time chatting about anything and everything your rather uneventful lives have thrown at you, fingers curled around a sweating glass of flavored iced tea. These breaks are always among the highlights of your year, giving you a chance to wind down and refresh ready for the next group of kids that you will take under your wing.

By the time the summer break winds down though, you’re eager to get back to school and see your dysfunctional work family. There’s nothing you love more than the first day after weeks apart, hearing all about Barbra’s annual cruise with Gerald, or Jacob’s latest mission to get himself “down with the kids” - it usually involves some god awful Tik Tok trend that he should NOT be doing, but you don’t have the heart to stop his rather spirited approach to engaging with his students.

You love these conversations but there is somebody else that you find yourself searching for the second you step foot through the green doors of Abbott; Mellisa Schemmenti. The older woman has become an infatuation for you, her rigid exterior always melting when you interact. She knows exactly how you take your coffee, always leaves a seat open for you during meetings, and takes every opportunity to compliment your appearance - whether it's a new pair of earrings, or a slightly different shade of hair dye, Melissa will always notice.

She makes you feel special in the smallest ways, always leaving you with the hope that she might actually like you back. It feels juvenile and you can’t help but imagine yourself as one of the kids you teach every day, sending heart eyes across the room at each other at any given chance, just waiting for her cheeks to flush and that small, suppressed smile to appear on her glossed lips.

Your crush is no secret, but you would never tell anyone - well, except Janine who had managed to guess exactly why you get so nervous around the older woman after a few glasses of wine at the last faculty holiday party. You didn’t have to say anything; your longing looks toward the redhead on the other side of the teachers’ lounge as you nursed a plastic cup full of cheap alcohol was enough to prompt your friend to ask. You could never lie to Janine’s puppy dog eyes, especially not with a buzz courtesy of the liquor store across the street.

You can’t help but let your thoughts drift toward thick Philly accents as you sit in the gym on the first day of school, squashed between Jacob and Janine and caught directly in the middle of their conversation about whatever new Netflix documentary series dropped last week. You’re really trying to listen, but your thoughts are consumed by bright red curls and glittery lip gloss, not true crime documentaries.

You find yourself scanning the room as the pair babble on and you notice that the seating arrangement is half empty as you wait for the rest of the faculty to arrive and for Ava to take the stage for yet another development week speech that will go down in infamy at Abbott. She’s already poked her head from behind the curtain on the stage twice, clearly impatient to make her grand entrance to a group of less than willing participants.

You begin to hear the telltale sound of heeled boots clicking against the linoleum floor and you feel yourself freezing into place just as Melissa waltzes into the hall, Barbara in tow. You don’t know if you’re impressed or terrified at her ability to constantly wear those shoes and the thought makes you realize that you’ve never actually seen Melissa at her normal height.

Just as you suck in a deep breath, her eyes scan the room and instantly land where you sit, sandwiched between two of your rather enthusiastic co-workers. As her green eyes meet yours you see them shrink at the smile she sends your way, her pearly white teeth cutting through the shiny pink lip gloss she’s always wearing. You send a similar smile back, overjoyed at the fact she merely noticed you. God help your heart rate when she decides to talk to you for the first time in two months.

Your attention is pulled away by Barbara, who waves enthusiastically from behind Melissa, making her way toward the empty seats directly in front of you. Your eyes dart back to Melissa as she follows the billowing of the older woman’s cardigan, heels still impossibly loud against the floor.

The dark button down she’s sporting is tight against her torso, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her deceptively toned forearms. You have to remind yourself to look away for a split second, the thought of getting caught ogling her by one of your co-workers forcing you to tear your eyes away. You look toward Janine who has trailed off her conversation with Jacob, the pair watching you and Melissa like a tennis match. You feel your shoulders slump at Jacob’s knowing look, the excitement practically making him vibrate.

“You’re kidding, you know too?” You sigh.

“Uh yeah, you don’t exactly hide the heart eyes,” he scoffs. He must see the deer-in-headlights expression on your face because he continues, “I wouldn’t worry, she was definitely just throwing them right back at you.”

You have no time to reply as the subject of the conversation reaches the row of seats in front of you, sitting in the hard plastic chair and turning her torso to see you, hand resting on the back of her seat. Her smile is wide again as she looks to you. The panic brews in your throat and your palms instantly become sweaty at the prospect of Melissa feeling the intensity of your feelings.

“Hey hun, it’s been a while,” she says, her eyes still crinkled from the smile she wears. Her focus is entirely on you, ignoring the duo that sits on either of your sides.

“Yeah, it has,” you manage to stammer out, “How’ve you been? You look good.”

You inwardly cringe at your words but you’re not lying. She’s obviously had her hair dyed ready for the new school year and it’s even brighter than usual, making her even easier for you to pick out of a crowd. She looks so full of life and at ease, the break clearly having done her well. Her smile grows impossibly wider at your compliment, putting you instantly at ease.

“It was great,” she replies. “Spent a lotta time at the beach with my family, so I’m not as pasty as you may have remembered.”

She throws a wink your way with the last statement, causing a pink blush to cover your cheeks within seconds. What you wouldn’t give to actually see Melissa at the beach, totally relaxed on a sun lounger with a drink in hand. The image turns your cheeks an even deeper shade of red and Mel clearly catches on, her smirk letting you know that she knows exactly where your thoughts have gone.

Before you even have chance to reply, Ava makes her grand entrance from behind the curtain to a chorus of groans that echos throughout the room.

You can feel Janine’s elbow nudging into your side, your friend having had a front row seat to your entire interaction with the redhead. The action earns her a swift kick to the ankle under her seat, accompanied by a hissed “don’t you dare”.

The meeting is over almost as quickly as it begins, Ava rushing back to her office to catch the latest episode of Real Housewives - she didn’t explicitly say it but you all know that’s the only reason she would be running back down the hall. You won’t complain though because it means you can get started with your work to prepare your classroom for the year ahead. You stand from your seat alongside Jacob and Janine and have all intentions of getting back to work when Melissa turns around again. Her emerald eyes stop you in your tracks, mid-stretch, your arms flexed above your head.

“I never got the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your dress,” she says, completely catching you off guard. Your hands fall, hanging limply by your side and brushing against the floral fabric of your clothing. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wear it specifically to catch her eye this morning. The soft smile she wears on her face makes your heart melt, the look on her face only reserved for you. “It's real pretty.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, blushing like lovesick teenagers and staring into each other's eyes when a throat clearing brings you back to reality. Janine claps her hands together, flustered by the interaction.

“Okay, I’m gonna get back to my classroom and, uh, get started on cleaning. Have a good day guys!” She calls as she walks away with Jacob in tow, enthusiastic as ever as he throws a thumbs up your way. You know that within five minutes of leaving the school gym she’ll be in your classroom waiting for the rundown on what the hell just happened between you and Melissa, as if she didn’t see it all happen from inches away. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Jacob shows up with a bag of popcorn to join in with the gossip session.

“Oh shit, yeah, I need to clean before Nonna shows up,” Melissa mumbles, “I don’t wanna even think about the earful I’ll get if my classroom is a mess.” She doesn’t even stop to think before she turns on her heel and practically runs out of the gym and down the hall toward her classroom. You don’t have time to process her words before her best friend speaks.

“Well, I guess that just leaves us,” Barbara says from her place next to where the redhead stood. She wears a gentle smile on her face that will always help you feel at ease. She reaches her arm out to you, linking your arm within hers as she turns to walk. “Come on honey, I’ll walk you to your room and tell you all about the cruise I had with my Gerald.”

After a rather lengthy conversation about ‘Sea Barbara’ and her less-than-christian antics, you’re back at your door for the first time in months and can’t help but feel like you’re home. Nobody particularly likes their job but that couldn’t be further from the truth for you. Already, you’ve planned out the next year and can’t wait to welcome your little Eagles back into the classroom.

It’s a full hour later by the time you actually hear another person’s voice - Janine chose to keep her distance but will no doubt grill you about Melissa at some point today. It’s just a matter of when.

You hear the signature clicking of her heels before you can see her, her footsteps considerably slower than usual. You can hear her talking as she walks, though you can’t make you exactly what she’s saying. The footsteps grow louder and slower before you hear a knock against your doorframe, the door propped open by a thick stack of textbooks that you’ve wedged in front of it in a desperate attempt to get some airflow in the stuffy room.

The sound makes you whip your head from where you stand on your stepladder, stapler and crepe paper in hand as you put together a display for the kids. You know exactly who will be standing there, already smiling as you turn and meet her eyes.

“Hey Hun,” she says, “I’ve got someone here who wanted to really meet you.”

For the first time you notice the presence beside her. You don’t need to take any guesses that this is Melissa’s infamous Nonna, the older woman clearly having stamped her grandchildren with her genes - she looks exactly how you imagine Melissa would in her old age, her hair silver and leaning gently on a cane.

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” she exclaims, making you jump and stand up straighter, terrified at the prospect of already being on her bad side. You climb down from the ladder as she stares at you, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress in an effort to get rid of any creases that may have formed during the morning. “You said she was pretty, but not this pretty!”

You feel your shoulders relax as you laugh at the older woman, taken aback, Melissa by the side of her groaning loudly with a “Nonna, really?” You move toward the pair holding your hand out to shake the wrinkled one of the grey-haired lady before you. Her fingers are adorned by the same kind of jewelry that Melissa wears, her Sicilian heritage extremely clear from the large signet rings that she wears across her hands.

“And there’s no mistaking that you must be Nonna,” you grin, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re like a living legend around here.” She closes her hand around yours, the other still gripping her cane.

“Pretty and complimentary?” She remarks, turning to look at her granddaughter whose face has managed to turn the same colour as her hair. “Well, you kept a lot quiet about this one.”

You can’t help but look at Melissa at this statement, catching her eye and smiling even wider, Nonna’s remarks already making your grin impossibly wide. Her brow relaxes itself slightly, the hard lines around her eyes softening when she sees the pure joy on your face at finally getting to meet the woman you’ve heard so much about over the last few years.

“I’m not sure if I want to hear exactly what you know about me,” you joke to her, catching Melissa’s eye yet again. The poor woman looks unbelievably flustered but it's a welcome change in your dynamic. She usually gets to revel in the fact that you turn into a puddle in her presence, but now you can only hope to add to the quickly darkening hue of her cheeks.

“Trust me, you do. This one doesn’t shut up about you,” she says, smiling slightly and cocking her head toward Melissa who is actively wishing that a sinkhole would open up beneath her feet. She lets go of your hand and moves further into the classroom, leaning ever so slightly on her stick but still moving with all the confidence of your favourite Schemmenti woman - at least you know where Melissa gets it from now.

Your eyes dart to Melissa, the older woman already looking back at you with a silent apology in her eyes her teeth worrying her bottom lip. You reach out and rub the top of her arm over her shirt in a small act of comfort, letting her know that this entire situation is doing nothing but working in her favour.

“Ya know, it’s nice seeing something other than my Melissa’s classroom or the reception desk at this school for once,” Nonna says, almost speaking to herself. She looks around the room almost in awe, taking in the displays in various degrees of completion around the room.

You follow her further in, Melissa hot on your tail behind you. She’s so close that you feel her almost walk straight into your back as you stop closer to the older woman, her once intimidating heels stuttering slightly on the wooden floor.

“So, tell me,” Nonna begins, turning in place to face you, “What brought a girl like you to Philly? I know you’re not a local.” Her eyes twinkle as she asks, and you have a sneaking suspicion that she already knows the answer to her question from the tales her granddaughter has seemingly told her about you.

“I just wanted a change,” you answer honestly. “I only thought I’d be here a couple years, but it’s been five and I can’t see myself leaving any time soon.”

At your statement you hear Melissa sigh by your side. As your head turns to meet her gaze you see just how much it softened at your words. She knows just how much you love your job and the dedication you’re willing to put into making sure these kids make it. Year after year she’s been the one to help you draft lesson plans and mark countless piles of work over a mug of coffee in the teachers’ lounge, helping you when you feel slightly out of your depth in more ways than she could imagine.

It’s only when she’s this close to your face that you can see the glittering of her lip gloss as she smiles slightly, her lips pulled together in a look that conveys so much softness.

“Do you like Italian food?” Nonna asks, breaking the tense silence that has fallen between you. You feel the redhead beside you jump, both of you completely forgetting that her grandmother is just meters away from your little moment. You can’t answer quick enough, crying out for her approval and hoping that you can focus back from the incredible green eyes that are currently burning into the side of your head.

“Oh yeah, I absolutely love an Italian,” you stutter out, “Can’t get enough.”

You inwardly cringe at your words as you hear Melissa snicker by your side, Nonna’s eyes twinkling with amusement again. You hear a quiet “Bedda Matri” from Melissa through the giggles that shake her body.

“I bet ya do,” Nonna says, her grin revealing her impossibly pearly white teeth. You can feel yourself getting warmer and you’re not sure if it’s from the stuffiness of your classroom and its broken windows or from the pure embarrassment radiating through your system. “You know, I taught Melissa everything she knows about Italian food. Maybe if you’re nice she’ll cook for you sometime.”

Nonna’s eyebrows are raised as you turn to meet Melissa’s eyes, the older woman shrugging in your direction. It's nice to know you aren’t the only person completely lost in this conversation.

“Oh, I know!” Nonna exclaims, making the pair of you jump yet again, “Melissa, how about you cook this nice girl the family baked ziti tonight? Say, 7 o’clock?”

“Uh sure, if you don’t have anything on?” Melissa says, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion once again.

“No no, I’m totally free,” you stammer, your cheeks matching the deep red of your co-worker's hair. “I’ve got your address too.”

“Wonderful!” Nonna almost shouts, her shrill voice echoing off the semi-bare walls of your classroom. “You’re going to love it, trust me.” She says, throwing a wink your way.

You don’t particularly want to admit that the smaller woman is, but you do love it. So much so that two years later you’re twirling around a dance floor in a lacy white dress, Melissa in a matching getup and shiny new diamond rings on your left hands. As Billy Joel croons the chorus of ‘Just the Way You Are’ from the speakers set up around the room, you hear a familiar voice chirp up from a table just out of reach of the dance floor.

“You know, they would never have gotten together if I hadn’t practically knocked their heads together,” Nonna says, her voice carrying over the song as she explains her matchmaking services to Melissa’s Uncle Tony. You feel Melissa grin where her cheek rests against yours, your expression matching hers as you hear the older woman carry on. “I’m telling you now Anthony, this wedding wouldn’t even be happening if it wasn’t for me.”

You feel Melissa begin to giggle where she stands, her hands resting against the lace at the small of your back, thumbs rubbing gently against the surface as you sway together. You hear Nonna carry on, adamant that the life you’ve built wouldn’t be possible if not for her, and as much as you don’t want to give her satisfaction, you both know she’s right.

#wlw #self insert #reader fanfic #reader fic #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #writing #fluff #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fic #melissa schemmenti fanfic #lisa ann walter x reader #lisa ann walter fic #melissa schemmenti x y/n

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