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ginnsbaker · 6 months

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In Silent Screams (1/3)

Chapter word count: 10.3k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision Tags: Mentions of Smut (F/M), Cheating, Angst, Gaslighting

Notes: This will follow the events of IFISS (not strictly) but in Wanda's POV. Check the tags, you've been warned. This is not rated M, but feel free to skip parts you feel uncomfortable with.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part I

It’s all happening very fast and she’s hardly keeping pace.

You and Wanda have cleared the apartment you've shared for over five years. The boxes are loaded onto the moving truck, while more personal items are safely packed away in the trunk and rear seats. You're in the building's administrative office, addressing the bills and finalizing other necessities before the move, while Wanda waits for you, sitting on the floor in the middle of what used to be the living room.

Sparky darts around the room, the vastness of the deserted space giving him room to play. Every so often, he looks up at Wanda, his tail wagging, perhaps sensing the change that's about to come. Wanda's gaze follows the little dog, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, grateful for his company.

Every corner of this apartment held a memory—from the faded mark on the kitchen wall where Wanda accidentally spilled red wine, to the tiny dent on the living room floor, after Sparky ran into it during a rough playtime with you. Packing up wasn’t just about boxing items; it felt like carefully wrapping up fragments of time, every piece a memory filed away, never to be recovered ever again.

Though the accumulation of belongings over the years had made the space feel a tad cramped, and a move to a larger place seemed the logical next step, Wanda was deeply nostalgic about leaving behind this chapter. It marked the end of an era for you both—the days of being a young, hopeful couple in love. But at the same time, Wanda also held onto the hope that maybe starting anew somewhere would be good, especially since the past few months have been rocky, with her failed attempts to get pregnant and her stagnant career. Maybe a fresh environment would ease some of that pain, she thought.

The trail leading up to this new chapter, however, is characterized by your increasing hours at the office, overshadowing the time spent at the apartment. Yet, it's this very commitment that led to your promotion just two weeks ago, sparking the unexpected decision to move to an unfamiliar town in New Jersey.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, Wanda feels as if life is moving at an almost dizzying pace. Everything is changing so quickly: your recent promotion, the emotional roller-coaster of trying for a baby, and now the looming move. It’s been more than a lot to take in.

Your footsteps, a soft thud against the wooden floor, break the quiet, drawing Wanda from her deep thoughts.

“Ready to go?”

She turns towards you, her eyes slightly misty, and whispers, “Just one more minute.”

Understanding her need to linger, you cross the room and lower yourself beside her. “Are you okay?” you ask.

Nodding, she takes a deep breath, as if trying to inhale every memory, every scent of the place she's called home for so long. “Yeah. I just need a moment to say goodbye.”

Gently, you squeeze her shoulder, drawing her gaze to meet yours. “You know, it's not really goodbye,” you murmur, trying to reassure her. “Scott promised it’s temporary, so there's a good chance we could be back here in Manhattan.”

Wanda turns to face you, her eyes searching yours for any hint that you're merely telling her what she wants to hear. You consistently strive to make her happy, aiming to shield her from distress. It's a trait she adores about you, though it can slightly irritate her at times. But right now—

“You really think we might come back?” she asks.

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. Manhattan is where we built so many of our memories, and it will always be a part of us. Westview is just a chapter, not the whole story.”

—right now she appreciates your ability to ground her with your words.

She laughs a bit, dabbing at her eyes. “God, I've fallen so hard for this place.”

“Me too,” you say, giving in to the urge to kiss her forehead. After all these years, and despite being married for a while, you still constantly seek reasons to be near her, to touch her. “But wherever we’ll go, we’ll make it our own.”

Wanda decides to christen the first day in your new home by making love on the living room floor, and you're as eager to indulge her. It's short and sweet, straightforward in its intensity. You’re both already attuned to each other's bodies, and she knows precisely where to touch, how to curl her fingers to draw out those soft, sultry moans she always finds so enticing.

The shadows created by the fire dance across the walls, mirroring the boxes scattered all around, each labeled and awaiting their turn to be unpacked and settled into this new space. Wanda absentmindedly rakes her fingers through your hair, your head cushioned on her warm, pillowy chest as you sleepily hum a song. Every scratch sends tingles down your spine, adding to the lethargy pulling at your eyelids.

“'Fade Into You' by Mazzy Star,” Wanda says softly, recognizing the tune.

You give a soft, drowsy chuckle. “You always know. Remember that tiny café near your dorm? They played it on a loop. It was drizzling outside, and we had that ridiculously oversized shared umbrella.”

Wanda smiles at the memory. “How could I forget? We sat there for hours, sipping on our lattes and listening to that song. And we weren’t even together then.”

Drawing a deep breath, you let out a contented sigh, murmuring, “Yeah, but I was already so deeply in love with you then.”

Wanda scrunches her nose and smirks, teasingly retorting, “That's really cheesy.”

You grin, nuzzling further into her, feeling her heart's rhythmic beat beneath your ear. “Doesn't make it any less true,” you whisper.

Wanda would later reflect on this memory, wishing she had held onto it more tightly, especially since it marked the true beginning of something withering inside of her.

Westview isn't quite the place Wanda envisioned. Instead of offering an escape from the unresolved threads of both your lives, it feels more like trading one cage for another. The town pulses with its own set of peculiarities, a rhythm and routine foreign to her. She's ambivalent about it. Sees it only as a brief interlude, a temporary concession she's making to support your career endeavors.

The demands of your job appear to be greater than either of you anticipated. As she's finishing up the first dish she's prepared for the evening, you call her midday to say you won't be home for dinner.

It's not the first or even the third instance. She refrains from keeping tally because she doesn't want to be that kind of wife. However, she's certain it's happened more than just a few times. Wanda tries to hide the disappointment from her voice, assuring you it's fine and that she understands. But as she hangs up the phone, a sensation that's become all too familiar washes over her.

She finds herself drifting towards the window, gazing out at the street below, lost in thought. She's never been one to demand all of your time, but this—it's the first time she's felt so small and insignificant. Aside from that first day when you both made love on every possible surface, there hasn't been a moment recently where you've shown interest in being that adventurous again. You both promised never to become that type of couple. Yet now, she's tormented by the thought: maybe you no longer find her as attractive as you used to, or perhaps you've come to realize some latent disappointment in her.

But everytime you come back in the quiet of the night, pulling her close, kissing her neck, and nestling into her hair, you dispel all her doubts. Wanda's only learning now how exhausting and powerless it could feel to need someone this much.

One particular night, mirroring the many late evenings before, you arrive home to find Wanda watching television in the living room. Both of you are thrilled to see each other awake, rather than just you returning to a warm, sleeping body next to your (cold) side of the bed.

Wanda's hair is slightly tousled, eyes glazed from the weariness of the day, but they light up when they meet yours. The corners of her lips curl into a small, sluggish smile. “You're home,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and longing.

You shed your coat, moving towards the couch and sitting down beside her. “I missed you,” you admit, running a gentle hand through her hair.

She leans into your touch, her body molding against yours. “I've been trying to stay awake lately, just hoping I might get to see you before drifting off,” Wanda says. “Tell me about your day.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process the day's events. “Same old, same old,” you say, putting your head on her shoulder. “Tight deadlines. And you won't believe this, but Janet, my secretary, she's going on maternal leave sooner than expected. So the office... well, they decided to throw something together last minute.”

She sits up a bit. “So you weren't held up because of work, but because of a party?”

“Uh, yeah. I think I mentioned it in my text?”

“I didn't get any message about…” Wanda trails off, taking a moment to steady herself. You’ve barely seen each other in the past week. The last thing she wants is to lash out on you.

But instead of noticing her distress and apologizing, or recognizing how your consecutive absences have affected her, you're fixated on pulling out your phone, scrolling through your messages, to… what? To prove to her that you mentioned it in your text?

“I sent you a text. I swear, I mentioned it,” you mumble. After a few more seconds, you let out a sigh of exasperation, showing her the screen where the message lays unsent. “The message failed to send... I thought you knew.”

Wanda looks at the screen and then back at you, her gaze softening slightly. “It happens,” she says with a soft smile.

“I'm sorry, Wanda,” you admit, placing the phone down. “Yes, it was a gathering, and I should've double-checked or called.”

She shakes her head, her fingers brushing against your cheek, just happy to be touching you. “I’m not mad. I just miss you, that's all.”

You take her hand in yours, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I miss you too. So bad.”

Wanda shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable in the embrace. “Did you have fun, at least?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you reply with an enthusiastic nod. “It was great catching up with everyone, especially Janet. Did you know she only got married a year ago? And they're already expecting. It's amazing how quickly things happen for some people.”

Wanda's expression, which had been soft and open, changes almost imperceptibly. The brightness in her eyes dims a little, and there's a slight tensing of her lips, a subtle sign of the pain you unknowingly inflicted. You love her, yet at times you unintentionally wound her deeply without even realizing it. Wanda doesn't know how that can be, but in this moment, it feels truer than ever.

“She's really excited,” you continue, oblivious to the change in your wife’s demeanor. “They weren't even really trying. It just... happened. I'm happy for her, genuinely.”

Wanda nods, swallowing hard. “That's... that's great for them,” she says, forcing a smile. She withdraws from your hold, rising from the couch. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

This time, you notice the hardened look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It's nothing,” she replies with a faint, unconvincing smile. “Just tired.”

“Wanda—”

“Good night.”

You hold back, not pushing her for answers. She stops briefly at the base of the stairs, shoulders drooping. Then, with a heavy sigh, she slowly makes her way up, each step looking like it takes more effort than the last.

The computer screen shines a relentless blue glow onto her face.

As the weeks pass, she sees fewer and fewer unread emails, fewer blinking notifications. The heart of the art world has always thrummed with in-person interactions, art deals solidified by firm handshakes, cocktail parties filled with patrons looking to be swayed by a charismatic gallery curator, and the intimate closeness that comes from viewing a painting together and discussing its merits. Video calls, as efficient as they are, don't capture the nuance of human emotion and instinct in the same way.

Sometimes she dreams of being back in the thick of it all, surrounded by masterpieces and dizzying energy. Westview, however, is quaint, almost eerily so. It has its charms, its local coffee shops and small art scenes, but it's a far cry from the scenes of the big city.

She feels her importance at the gallery dwindling. She can't fault them; many of the responsibilities demand her physical presence. Currently, she can only manage to send crucial emails and direct calls and messages from essential patrons, sponsors, and others integral to the gallery's ecosystem. Her power of persuasion doesn't translate as effectively one email at a time.

Wanda has always enjoyed playing to her strengths, particularly when meeting artists in person, where she can swiftly adapt her tactics based on the reactions of her audience, all while maintaining her self-assured demeanor, knowing that she carries a natural charm. However, being stuck in this town has taken that from her.

Feeling the stirrings of frustration rise in her gut, Wanda steps away from the table and retrieves her cellphone. She stares at it like it’s her salvation, contemplating whether to make the call. She needs someone to talk to, someone who knows her, someone who won't judge.

She dials Agatha's number.

The phone rings a few times before a familiar voice, which once irked her but now only deepens her homesickness, answers.

“Wanda, dear! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wanda tries to muster her energy to match Agatha's, but a hint of her distress manages to seep through. “Hi, I'm—I'm doing well. How about you?”

“Great,” Agatha replies cheerfully, but then her voice drops, “What's troubling you?”

“Nothing,” Wanda tells her quickly. A soft “hm” emanates from Agatha's end, followed by a silence that feels hefty, but not oppressive. It's the kind of silence that invites confession, though with a gossip-driven curiosity.

“It's this place,” Wanda starts, “It's not what I expected. I thought being here would give me space to breathe, a fresh start, but instead, I feel... trapped. Isn't it ironic? I have all this open space around me, but I feel more confined than ever.”

Agatha sighs, a knowing lilt in her voice. “Look, we've been in this rat race long enough. New city, new job, new whatever—it's all the same cycle, just different packaging. Maybe this detachment you're feeling? It's a cue. A chance to rethink... everything.”

Wanda arches an eyebrow, though Agatha can't see it. “What are you saying?” Sparky trots towards her, mewling. Wanda briefly flashes him a smile before scratching him behind his ears.

Agatha's voice grows sharper, more incisive. “I’m saying that maybe you haven’t really given your new town a chance because you’re holding on tightly on a rope to the past. I'm saying maybe the gallery, as much as it's been your lifeline, is now your anchor. Dragging you down. Ever thought of cutting the cord?”

Wanda's heart races. “You mean quit? Just like that?”

A snort from Agatha. “Why not? What's it giving you right now? A title? Perks? Or just a nostalgia trip and a daily reminder of what used to be?”

Wanda is silent, grappling with the blunt reality Agatha’s laying out. The realization that maybe she's clinging to a past that doesn't fit her present is daunting.

“Look, Wanda,” Agatha continues, softer now, “it's just business. The gallery won't sink without you, and maybe you'll find a version of yourself you didn't know existed without it. Westview’s a new board. Play it.”

The house is enormous for two people and a small dog. The vastness of the space should thrill her, yet it amplifies her loneliness. Your early departures and late returns leave her lingering in the expanse, waiting for life to unfold. The sparkling countertops, the polished floors—she's cleaned them over twice this week, a feeble attempt to occupy her time, to feel some semblance of accomplishment.

But what's the point when, at the end of it all, it feels like nothing?

Wanda's eyes flutter open as she hears the familiar, albeit late, sound of the front door clicking shut. Recently, her sleep has been light, so even your softest footfalls register in her consciousness. She remains still, her back turned to the bedroom door, her breathing deliberate and even. The sounds of shuffling reach her ears: the rustle of clothes, a muted sigh, the faint creak of a floorboard.

The bed shifts, dips, as you ease yourself beside her. The silence stretches, becoming palpable, thick. And then, a whisper, soft and low, bathed in regret. “Wanda?”

She doesn’t respond, biting back the words she wants to unleash, the lack of purpose and direction she feels these days. The longing in her eyes, if you could see it, would tear right through you.

It's been five nights in a row. Five nights of cool sheets and colder silences.

Moments later, she feels you trace your fingers over the bare curve of her arm. “I'm sorry,” you whisper, every word dripping with the weariness of corporate warfare and personal neglect. “Missed you. Like you wouldn't believe.”

You press a tender kiss to her hair and Wanda holds her breath. “I promise, I'll make it right,” you say, your voice a mere breath against her ear. “We'll find our way back. I just... I need a bit more time.” Nestled against her, the familiar contours of her body will always be your home, and soon the demands of the past days pull you into a deep slumber.

Yet, for Wanda, sleep remains out of reach. Despite your assurances, a gnawing uncertainty has taken root in her heart. She craves your company, but she also harbors a growing resentment that she’s been trying to deny ever since she set foot in this forsaken town.

Not for the first time this year, Wanda wonders if you can really love someone deeply and yet blame them for the things in your life that make you unhappy.

The rain pelts down on Westview’s streets, the usually quiet lanes now slick with water and glistening under the sporadic streetlights. Wanda’s pace quickens, her umbrella slipping from her loose grip when an unforeseen splash from a passing car leaves her utterly soaked.

“Hey!” she shouts out, more from shock than anger. But the car drives on, indifferent to the trail of mess it's left behind. She's in the process of assessing the damage—wet strands of hair plastering to her face and her shirt now ruined – when he appears. A young man with strikingly bleached hair, seeming unaffected by the god-awful weather.

“You look like you're having a day,” he remarks, his voice carrying an amused lilt. With a confident stride, he approaches her. He’s tall—almost a foot taller than her. “Here, this might help,” he says, already moving to the trunk of his parked car nearby.

She watches him, curious and a tad skeptical. It's not every day a stranger offers assistance, especially in pouring rain. But this one is already producing a neatly folded tee from the trunk. “I hit the gym quite a bit. Always have a spare,” he explains, flashing a grin.

Wanda hesitates, her gaze shifting from the shirt to him and back. Up close, he appears younger than she initially perceived. “Thanks,” she murmurs, accepting the shirt. There's an odd sincerity in his eyes that makes her trust him, if only for this fleeting moment.

“How about a drink? To warm you up. And perhaps, as a small token of thanks for letting me play the good samaritan today,” he says. She arches an eyebrow, surprised by his boldness. Most people would've stopped at the shirt. Had this conversation taken place in Manhattan, Wanda would have already left with a sharp remark about his bold attempt to engage her in conversation. But here and now, she can't quite pinpoint why she hasn't brushed him off as she usually would have by this point.

Despite her initial reluctance, she finds herself smiling. You're the only person she's spoken to since arriving in Westview. She's so starved for a bit of normalcy that maybe a chat with a stranger might do the trick. After all, he's just a kid. She could regard him as a nephew or something similar.

“Alright,” she concedes, “just one drink.”

Within the first minute, Wanda learns his name: Victor Shade. However, he prefers the nickname ‘Vision’, which Wanda finds a tad whimsical. They find a cozy booth in a tucked-away corner, shielding them from potential prying eyes passing by the restaurant. While Wanda didn't plan to keep their meeting a secret, Vision naturally guided her to the more discreet spot.

“So, Wanda,” Vision begins, taking a sip of his drink, “What brought you to town? It doesn't seem like the most obvious choice for someone like you.”

Wanda looks at him, intrigued. “Someone like me? What does that mean?”

He chuckles, “Well, from our short interaction, you seem like someone who's seen bigger cities, more happening places. Westview is... charming, but quiet.”

“Same could be said about you. You don't exactly scream 'small town boy' either,” Wanda says.

Vision's eyebrows rise playfully, feigning offense. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Your confidence,” she retorts with a smirk. “It's loud, almost deafening. It echoes big city vibes.”

He laughs, nodding in concession. “Touche.”

As their conversation progresses, Wanda begins to see him less as a kid and more as a well-read, intriguing individual, particularly when Vision reveals he's an art major, his eyes lighting up as he talks about his passion for Renaissance art and postmodernism.“I graduated with a degree in art,” she shares, her own memories of university flooding back. She recounts stories of late-night classes and the exhilaration of her first gallery show. They bond over favorite artists and art movements, finding shared preferences and amusing disagreements. It's a pleasant surprise for Wanda to discover that, out of all the people in Westview, the first one she genuinely converses with is someone with whom she shares so much in common.

Yet, as she's engaging with Vision, a tiny voice at the back of her mind keeps drawing comparisons between him and you. The way you and Wanda communicate is so fundamentally different. You lean heavily on the left, analytical and logical in your thinking. Your conversations with Wanda often revolve around structured debates, dissecting topics with precision and care, always seeking the root cause or solution. Wanda, on the other hand, leans more to the right, driven by creativity and emotion. She loves diving into abstract concepts, weaving narratives and ideas with passion.

You and Wanda did find common interests and topics that you both enjoy. Over the years, you've had countless meaningful moments where you both found yourselves talking for hours on end. But the rapport she's building with Vision is something she hasn't felt in a long while, or perhaps ever, even with you. It's not necessarily better or worse; it's just different, and it takes her by surprise.

At one point, Vision’s gaze falls upon the glint of Wanda's wedding ring, reflecting the ambient light of the restaurant. “You're married,” he observes, not as a question but a statement.

Wanda hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes, I am.”

Vision looks at her, searching for something in her eyes. “Does he know you're out with a stranger?”

“She,” Wanda corrects instinctively, her cheeks warming as she notices his eyes sparkle with heightened interest, then she adds, “She probably wouldn't mind. We trust each other. Besides, it's just a drink with a friend, right?”

He smiles, raising his glass. “To friendship.”

For the first time, she arrives home later than you that night. Wanda finds you in the living room, curled up on the couch, a remote in hand, and an empty wine glass on the table beside you.

As the door clicks shut, you turn, and your eyes clouded with surprise as you meet hers. “Hey,” you murmur, the TV's remote paused mid-air, “Wasn't expecting you this late.”

Wanda shrugs, unsure of how to convey the unexpected turn her day had taken. She hangs her coat and moves towards the living room, her shoes making soft tapping noises against the wooden floor. “Ran into someone... from college,” she half-lies, the omission of Vision's identity a deliberate choice. Not out of guilt, but more a protective instinct to keep the evening's serendipitous meeting to herself.

“Oh? How was that?”

“It was... nice. Different,” Wanda replies, picking her words with care. She can sense your gaze on her, trying to piece together the puzzle, and she quickly adds, “We just grabbed a drink, caught up. You know how it is.”

You nod slowly, the lines of your face softening. “Good. You needed that. This move... it's been hard on you.” The acknowledgment feels like a balm, and Wanda gives you a small, appreciative smile. She’s about to head upstairs when your voice stops her in her tracks.

“That's a... unique shirt you've got there,” you comment. She turns around slowly to face you and sees a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Wanda glances down at the shirt she's wearing, an admittedly garish tee that's far from her usual style. “Some idiot in a car decided I looked better drenched,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “This was the only option the nearby store had.”

It's her third lie of the evening, and Wanda can't explain why she keeps doing it.

“Well, I've got to say, it's a look. You're absolutely killing it,” you tease, a bit sarcastically.

Wanda snorts, the tightness in her chest loosening a little. “Oh, shut it.” She can't help but smile. “You're one to talk. Remember that hideous Christmas sweater you insisted on wearing last year?”

Ah, a challenge. You rise from your spot on the couch, taking a deliberate step towards her. “That was festive. This is... rebellious?” you guess, tracing a finger in the air around the outlines of her new shirt. “You pulling a midlife crisis on me, Mrs. Maximoff?”

She blushes, but whether from the memory of the car incident or your close proximity, it's hard to tell. “It's just a shirt,” she retorts, but her voice cracks and the light in her eyes betrays her amusement.

Your fingers itch to brush against the fabric of her shirt, to maybe pull her closer. “You know,” you murmur, voice low, “you could make even a potato sack look sexy.”

Wanda bites her lower lip, her breath catching just slightly. She revels in the banter, the space between yourselves shrinking with every heartbeat. She finds herself lost in the pull, but a gnawing unease lingers, making her wary. Just then, Sparky comes out of nowhere, sprinting and eventually running into Wanda’s leg. His tail wags a mile a minute, pleading for Wanda to shower him with affection. Grateful for the interruption, Wanda quickly shifts her attention, bending down to indulge the spirited pup. “Missed me, did you, Sparks?”

You try to mask your disappointment, but the subtle change in your expression isn't lost on her, even as she pointedly looks away.

Nights following her meeting with Vision find Wanda restless. It isn’t necessarily Vision himself that haunts her thoughts, but rather their impassioned discussion on art (and just about anything). She realizes, with a sharp pang, how deeply she misses the world that served as her refuge for years when she sought to escape her own reality.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she heads to Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences, seeking a place where her passion and expertise could be valuable.

Hours later, she gets an email inviting her for an interview with the dean. Apparently, the school has been looking for an assistant professor for the past several months now.

A week later, they offer her the position, and she talks to you about it shortly after sending them the signed letter of acceptance.

Her first day at the school is all kinds of awkward, likely more so than her first day as a student years ago. The university building looks massive for being in such a remote, out-of-the-way town. All around, there's a crowd of young students bustling about, their laughter and conversations filling the crisp, morning air.

Among them, Wanda stands, momentarily frozen—an outsider looking in. She wears a chic black ensemble: slacks, a blazer, and a turtleneck, hoping to conceal the anxiety that's making it difficult for her to keep her breakfast down. However, as she's introduced to a few of the other professors, her resolve wavers. They're in more casual attire, and she can't help but feel a tad overdressed, sticking out like a meticulously painted stroke on an empty canvas.

She doesn't get to meet her students immediately. Instead, her day is consumed by orientation processes, faculty meetings, and an extensive tour of the sprawling campus. Every time she turns a corner or meets someone new, a mix of excitement and jitters rushes through her. The enormity of the responsibility she's shouldering, coupled with the fact that she's never taught anyone before (not even tutored)—it's both intimidating and thrilling all at once.

It's been a while since she's felt this alive, apart from the rare times when you're home on time, or when she gets to spend an entire day with you. But this? This is the first time in ages that something beyond the comfort of your love has rekindled a spark in her, reminding Wanda of a part of herself she had almost forgotten.

At the end of her first day, Wanda does meet one of her students.

Technically, she has met him before, but it was in the context of a friendly stranger who lent her his shirt when she needed it the most. When Vision told her that he was an art student, she didn't actually expect to find him attending the same university. She had assumed he was from the city and just passing through.

(Perhaps it’s her silliest assumption she's made to date but—it is what it is.)

“Aren't you a pleasant surprise,” Vision says, rolling down the window of his Mustang. When his voice reaches her, it's distinctly out of place, an unexpected ripple in her carefully mapped out day.

She swallows hard, resisting the urge to take a step back, “Vision, I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

He grins, the sunlight catching the edges of his aviator glasses. “It's a small world, or rather, a small university.” He tilts his head playfully, “Wait... are you...?”

Wanda cuts him off, “Let's just say, I'm exploring my options here.”

A pause ensues, both understanding the unsaid implications.

“You know,” Vision starts, leaning against his car, “I'd heard there was a new, 'exceptionally dressed' professor in town. Just didn't piece it together that it would be you.”

“It's a small world,” she murmurs, her face a shade paler.

He seems to sense her discomfort and remarks, “I suppose this changes everything.”

Wanda sighs, “It's just... I need to maintain a certain decorum here. It would be inappropriate if—”

“—If I turned out to be one of your students,” he finishes for her. His smirk is replaced by a milder expression. “Don't worry. Whatever our relationship outside this campus, I respect boundaries. And I expect you do too.”

She nods, appreciative of his maturity. “Thank you, Vision.”

Before she can fully turn away, Vision snaps his fingers together. “Oh, by the way, you left something with me from last time. Your shirt? The shirt you had to change out of?”

Wanda's face reddens slightly at the memory. “I completely forgot about that. Do you have it?”

Vision points with a thumb over his shoulder towards his car. “Wait a second. It's in the back.” He moves to retrieve the shirt, but after rummaging for a few moments, he frowns. “I could have sworn I left it here…”

He removes his sunglasses, allowing his gaze to lift in thought, revealing the unnaturally vibrant blue of his eyes to Wanda. “Ah, I remember now. It's in my laundry bag, which I took to my apartment.”

“It's fine. You can give it back another time,” Wanda says.

But Vision, with that same gleam in his eyes, counters, “Why not just come with me and get it now? It's a short drive.”

She bites her lip, thinking. On one hand, she'd rather not prolong their interaction given the new dynamics. On the other, it might be best to just get it over with. “I'm not sure…”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I promise it's just a shirt, Professor.”

The inclusion of the title almost brings a smile to her face. “Alright,” Wanda gives in, “But only if it’s quick. And remember, as far as the university is concerned, we’re merely acquaintances.”

“Technically, you haven’t met your class yet. And as of now, I’m not your student,” he points out with an innocent shrug.

The logic is sound, though it does little to quell the anxiety bubbling within Wanda. She nods, exhaling deeply. “Let’s go.”

They drive to Vision’s apartment building, the journey marked by fleeting glances and a silence that's not entirely comfortable. He attempts to dispel the tension, “I've washed and ironed the shirt for you. Hope that's alright.”

She looks over, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you, that's... unexpected.”

As she sits in the passenger seat of Vision’s car, Wanda inadvertently starts picking up on the small details surrounding her. She notices the immaculate interior of the car—not a stray piece of litter, every surface gleaming. There's a fresh, clean scent permeating the space, a subtle hint of citrus perhaps. It's not the typical aroma one would expect from a college student's car. She thinks of the younger people she's known and how their vehicles often doubled as chaotic storage spaces, littered with discarded clothes, takeaway containers, and the musty scent of overdue laundry.

When they arrive at his apartment, it further exemplifies this meticulousness. Sketches, paintings, and art supplies are neatly arranged, yet the area feels lived-in, warm, not sterile. It's easy to forget he's just 21. He exudes an aura of maturity that doesn’t align with his years. If they had met under different circumstances, and if she hadn’t known his age, she would have pegged him for someone much older, someone who's seen more, experienced more.

“Your shirt,” Vision says, pulling it out from a cupboard—neatly folded, rather than from the laundry bag he remembered earlier. “As promised.”

As Wanda accepts it, her fingers brush against a freshly painted canvas. The vibrant colors smear slightly under her touch.

“Oh! I'm so sorry,” she exclaims, pulling her hand back.

Vision waves it off, “No worries. Sometimes accidents lead to the best kind of art.”

He then looks contemplative for a moment before posing a question, “You know, Picasso once said, 'Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.' What do you think of that?”

The randomness of it throws her off for a second, before she regards him with a thoughtful look. “Well, in a way, creation and destruction aren't opposing forces. One can be a precursor to the other. To create something new, often something old has to give way.”

Vision's eyes light up, clearly pleased by her response. “Exactly! It's like when you're sketching. Sometimes, you have to erase an entire section just to rework it. And often, the second attempt is much better than the first.”

They continue discussing, each statement leading to another topic, and another. After a while, Vision hesitates before making a bold request, “Wanda, would you... would you mind if I sketched you? Just for practice. You have such unique features, and it'd be a challenge for me.”

“Trying to butter up your professor already?” It comes out a bit flirtatious by accident, and Wanda struggles to retract it.

He nods, a little sheepishly. “Only if you're comfortable. It’s just... our discussion has inspired me.”

Wanda laughs lightly, unable to deny that the notion does flatter her.. “Alright, but only for a bit. I'm not exactly dressed for a portrait.”

“You are…” Vision murmurs almost too quietly to hear, his eyes already fixed on his sketchpad. But Wanda still catches it, and a faint blush tints her cheeks. Vision gets to work. In this moment, she's both his muse and his critic, and for a brief while, a hushed silence envelops the room.

However, as the minutes tick by, Wanda begins to feel increasingly restless beneath his studious, penetrating gaze. She tries to keep her posture, attempting to appear at ease, but her muscles gradually tighten in response to his intent focus. There’s a kind of intimacy in being observed so closely that she wasn’t quite prepared for.

“Can you tilt your head just a bit to the left?” he asks, never lifting his gaze from the page. She obliges. Moments later, “A little to the right now, and chin up. Perfect.”

Wanda obeys, adjusting her position to his liking. But it's a stray strand of hair that falls onto her forehead that really tests her composure. Vision notices it immediately. “Could you brush that hair away, please?” he asks.

She reaches up, trying to tuck it behind her ear, but it stubbornly returns to its original position. Frowning in mild irritation, she tries again but with the same result.

Vision chuckles softly. “Stay still,” he murmurs, placing his sketchpad to the side. He carefully rises from his seat and approaches her, eyes never leaving her face. “I'll fix it.”

Heart inexplicably racing, Wanda can't comprehend why she obeys so willingly, remaining motionless as Vision's fingertips ghost near her face. The distance between them becomes almost negligible as his face hovers mere inches from hers. She can feel the warmth of his breath, see the earnest concentration in his eyes. Slowly, ever so gently, his fingers brush the errant strand away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “There we go,” Vision whispers.

But instead of retreating, he lingers. She watches as Vision's eyes flutter closed, and he begins to lean in. She's teetering at the precipice of something that can't be taken back, and she’s horrified to discover a part of her that wants to give in.

Shaking herself out of the trance, she manages to whisper with a tremble in her voice, “I... I have to go.” Her words cut through the moment like a knife, yet Vision remains close, eyes searching hers as he softly challenges, “Are you sure?”

That simple question, laden with suggestion, irks Wanda. This was more than just an innocent sketching session. Irritation builds as she understands what he might have been attempting. In her haste to distance herself, she stands abruptly, accidentally brushing his face with her head. She doesn't apologize, too focused on gathering her belongings.

Vision, realizing his mistake, scrambles to his feet, “Wanda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—”

But she cuts him off, hand already on the door handle. “I'll see you in class, Mr. Shade.”

Wanda doesn't know how you managed to convince her to shower together one morning.

To be fair, you didn't make much of an effort to persuade her, and she was more than willing to participate. Perhaps it's because life has been an unending whirlwind lately, a blur of responsibilities and ever-mounting pressure. Her fresh endeavor into academia had consumed much of her waking hours, leaving her mentally drained by the end of the day. You, on the other hand, seemed perpetually buried under a mountain of paperwork and late-night calls.

It's not an excuse, of course, but these realities have inadvertently wedged a distance between the two of you. So, on that fateful morning, when you followed her into the bathroom, you were a woman on a mission. But as you wordlessly entered the shower, a certain determination evident in your stride, Wanda felt the need to object. Her protest, however, was cut short. The feel of your lips on hers, possessive and demanding, effectively silenced her. Her knees threatened to give way, and if not for the firm grip you had on her waist, she might have collapsed. Instead, she melted into your arms, letting you take the lead, and well—

That resulted in her losing nearly half of her students for her first class of the day because they believed she wouldn't show up after being nearly twenty minutes late.

“That can’t happen again,” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

It occurs a few more times before she intentionally begins waking up before your alarm goes off. Wanda misses her wife, but she misses the life you both left behind even more. And despite finding satisfaction in her new career, she can’t seem to stop resenting you for that.

Her period is a week late, but Wanda isn't worried. You both stopped trying to conceive before coming to New Jersey. However, it does remind her of something else she had to let go of and how it felt like you gave up on her too easily for comfort.

The stress from her new job eventually begins to take a toll on her. Stacks of papers sprawl across the table, some marked with red ink, others waiting to be perused. Her hand moves methodically, adjusting her notes, reviewing her questions, ensuring every detail is in place for the impending exam. Her back protests from the hours spent in the same position, her eyes blink away the fatigue, but she's determined to finalize every last bit. It takes a few more moments before she finishes editing her students’ first examination. It's late—far too late for her to still be at the university, but a sense of accomplishment washes over her.

In the middle of soaking up her minor achievement for the day, she suddenly remembers Sparky. He's been left for hours, with just water, and that she's supposed to get groceries for him this afternoon. Shit, Wanda curses breathily, hurrying her movements.

She's about to shut her laptop when she hears a knock on the door. Thinking it's the security guard, she quickly rehearses her plea for just a few more minutes. However, when she opens the door, she's staring into the all-too-familiar blue eyes of Vision.

Wanda takes an involuntary step back, her pulse quickening. “Mr. Shade,” she greets, an uncharacteristic iciness in her voice.

He looks equally surprised, “Wan—Professor Maximoff,” he responds. “I... I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Neither was I. What are you still doing here?”

Vision runs a hand through his hair, looking bashful for a change. “I often come to the art room late at night. It helps me think, especially when I feel creatively stuck. I was on my way home and noticed the lights still on in this office.”

Wanda feels a pang of suspicion, even as she tries to remind herself that the university is as much Vision's space as it is hers. Still, she can't help but feel wary. “Well, I'm just leaving,” she says curtly, shouldering her bag. Before she can take another step, Vision's fingers encircle her arm, the unexpected touch of warm skin on skin causing her to pause. She looks down at where his fingers lightly grip her, and then up into his earnest eyes. She can feel the warmth of his hand, the roughness of his fingertips.

“Wait,” he murmurs, his blue eyes locking onto hers, an earnest plea evident in their depths. “We need to talk.”

Wanda instinctively tries to pull her arm away, but Vision's grip tightens, not painfully but enough to keep her there. He steps closer, effectively cutting off her escape route. His height becomes even more pronounced as he leans slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. His presence feels overbearing, almost intimidating, as he places himself between her and the exit. He quietly closes the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence, and the room feels much, much smaller now.

Wanda's eyes dart around, looking for a way out, her mind racing. “Vision, this isn't appropriate,” she manages to say.

All he says is, “I know. I'm sorry.”

They find themselves engaged in a staring contest, with only the sound of their breathing serving as a reminder of each other's presence. Several tense seconds pass, with neither willing to break the gaze. Then, slowly, Vision eases the grip on her arm, his fingers lingering for a moment before letting go entirely. He steps back deliberately, emphasizing the space between them, a clear invitation for her to leave if she chooses to.

Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Wanda takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She wants to leave, to create as much distance as possible between them, especially when she knows what's about to happen if she gives in even the slightest bit.

She takes a shaky breath and, for the briefest moment, her gaze drifts to her work laptop. A flash of silver catches her eye. Her USB, containing the work she's been laboring on for hours. “I-I forgot something” she mutters, panic rising in her voice. “I need that before I go,” she says, pointing to the device.

Vision nods, not saying a word. Wanda cautiously begins to move towards the desk, but before she can reach it, Vision's there, his movements swift and silent. He suddenly wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The initial shock has her resisting, pushing against his chest, but it's short-lived. Before she knows it, she's letting out a quiet sigh, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He hoists her up effortlessly, seating her on the edge of the desk.

As she looks up at him, he slides his hands up, disappearing beneath her skirt. The faintest image of your face flickers across Wanda's mind, a ghost of a memory that almost pulls her back to sense and reason. But as Vision's fingers find their wet mark, Wanda's grip tightens on the edge of the desk, her eyes fluttering closed. She can no longer recall the sequence of events that led her to this very moment, nor the myriad reasons why it shouldn't be happening.

Every bit of rationale, every thought of you, all seem to evaporate, leaving only the need to breathe and to feel.

To just be.

Wanda remains in her car without starting the engine for a good thirty minutes. She left the room as soon as she could pull her panties up past her knees. She can feel the residual heat on her skin, how he felt inside of her. She resists the urge to squeeze her thighs together, attempting to disregard the stickiness and discomfort she feels.

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you. But as much as she’s drowning in guilt, she couldn’t deny how her mind keeps going back to Vision’s touch, the way he'd made her feel so alive, so seen, in a way she hadn’t felt in a while. It's maddening, this push and pull. It's like there are two sides of her fighting it out inside—one, the devoted partner who loves you, and the other, a woman who's awakened, yearning for something she can't quite put into words.

She laughs, the sound teetering on the edge of hysteria. It's an unsettling sound in the quiet of the car, an indication of her fraying sanity. How did she get here? How did she become this person? In what manner did she find herself engaging in infidelity despite your presence in her life? You've been the guiding light in her life for so long, making her the best version of herself she's ever known. But still, how can she undo this part of herself she never thought existed?

Tears form in her eyes as she closes them, trying to banish the memories, to shut out the storm of emotions threatening to consume her. But they're too powerful, too raw, too fresh. Too real. And she knows she has to face them, to confront the reality of what she's done and decide where to go from here.

It's just past midnight when Wanda's car pulls into the driveway. She emerges from the vehicle in a daze, her steps slow and disconnected, as if each step leads her inexorably towards her reckoning. The door to the house opens before she can even reach for the knob. There you stand, concern evident in your eyes. Wanda hadn't expected to find you awake, especially not at this hour, waiting for her.

It’s your scent first that reaches her before anything else, the distinct aroma of fresh pine from the sprawling garden surrounding the house, coupled with the distinct smell of Sparky, suggesting that you've held him close most of the night. The protective, almost desperate way your arms encircle her reveals just how much you've been consumed with worry about her whereabouts and safety.

Every time you’re near, every time she gets to hold you, it’s instinctual for her to break into a smile. But tonight, it's ephemeral. A tidal wave of guilt and regret crashes over her. She stiffens in your arms, the realization of her actions making her insides churn.

“Where were you?” you exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard. “I've been here, pacing, worried out of my mind, and I couldn't reach you.”

It's the questioning, the concern, the love in your voice that breaks something inside her. “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry,” she says evenly, almost robotically.

You raise an eyebrow, frustration evident. “You could've borrowed a phone or used the school's landline, right?”

She has to remind herself that your words aren't accusations. You're not out to corner her; you genuinely don't know what she's done. And in that moment, she decides that she'll do everything to ensure you will never know.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda resorts to tactics she despises in herself. “Like I said, I was working,” she retorts with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, hoping the hint of condescension in her tone might distract you, even as it tears at her own conscience. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

Your reaction to her words is immediate, a palpable retreat, and she's overcome with the urge to spill every secret, every confession, if only she could be certain you wouldn't walk away.

“Fine,” you say tersely, stepping aside to let her pass. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” You don’t bother to hide the hurt in your eyes and her resolve almost crumbles.

“Sounds good,” she says and turns abruptly, making her way upstairs, her pace quickening with every step.

In the morning, she offers you kisses as an apology, and you're blissfully unaware of the hundred ways it's steeped in treachery.

It keeps happening with Vision and she starts to waste away. On the surface, she seems to be taking better care of herself: shedding some weight, toning in ways that leave you entranced during the few mornings you catch her making breakfast.

But Wanda is adept at playing it cool, brushing off your hungry gazes as if they're mere figments of her imagination. She longs for you in the same intense way she always has, but she's entangled in this twisted duality now. As she writes names and explanations on the board, she can almost feel the intensity of Vision's stare, a heat on her back that she's come to recognize all too well. Sometimes, during a lecture, she'll turn and catch him staring, and right then, she knows where they'll be once the session ends. She also begins to frequent places she's never been to before, corners of the town she hopes no one will recognize them in. There, they sit side by side, their knees touching underneath the table, talking about everything and nothing.

And you wouldn't, not for a second, entertain suspicions about her hardly ever being at home. Because your love for her is profound, and your trust, even more so. Because she knows you're buried under the weight of your own challenges at work, and capitalizes on this knowledge for the time being. Because whatever this is, whatever she’s doing with Vision, she knows it’s temporary. She swears she’ll clean up after herself, the moment she can purge this from her system.

Because none of it feels as if they're truly happening, and Wanda convinces herself it's just a hazy, erotic dream from which she can wake at any moment she chooses.

“Do you love me?”

The question hits Wanda like a freight train. Of course she does. You’re her… of course she does. And she’s never felt the fear of losing you, the true love of her life, more acutely than now.

“Of course I love you,” Wanda says, fighting to keep her voice steady even as her chin quivers. “What a silly question.”

“I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” you pause, your voice quivering, letting out a mirthless laugh, “We’re still working.”

Her guilt amplifies. She's been so engrossed in her own struggles that she failed to see how it's affecting you. The toll it's taken on your relationship. Your insecurities, your need for validation, all because she's been distant and distracting herself from her own demons. She's grateful the shadows conceal her face from you, or else it would be to easy for you to recognize the truth, and—

“I just miss you,” you confess, and it stings.

“Me too,” she whispers, the words filled with layers of meaning she can't articulate. Wanda tries to find more words, something to reassure you further, but she can't quite comfort as effortlessly as you do for her. You've always been more adept at loving her than she's ever been with you.

“Good night,” you say, and Wanda detects no underlying bitterness in your tone. She almost wishes there were. It'd be easier if you didn't love her so unconditionally; then she wouldn't feel so wretched for the secrets she's keeping just beyond this room's walls.

She goes as far as asking herself if she simply misses having a cock inside of her, the thought nagging at her especially when Vision stays firmly inside her, holding her in place as he spills into a condom. She flutters around him a few more times before she slackens in his hold.

Pushing away the guilt that threatens to engulf her every time they are together, Wanda wonders if this reckless escapade with her student is merely an escape from the monotonous predictability of her life or a deeper reflection of some unmet need. Vision’s bedroom becomes a space of both pleasure and torment for her. When she catches her reflection in the mirror he’s installed in front of the bed, she barely recognizes the woman staring back, eyes clouded with both desire and regret. She clings to the belief that once she figures out what she's truly seeking, she can end it all and return to you, wholly and completely. But the more she thinks about it, the more elusive the answer becomes.

Vision’s bony hips gradually come to a stop, and he finally pulls out of her. She feels the evidence of their recent activities on her skin, and is hit with an overwhelming need to wash it all away.

“I need a shower,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. He simply nods, watching her intently. There's a question in his eyes, perhaps seeking assurance or simply wondering if she'll return to his bed afterwards. Wanda doesn't give him an answer, nor does she meet his gaze for long. Instead, she wraps herself in whatever piece of clothing she can find and heads towards the bathroom.

When she emerges from the shower, redressed in the clothes she wore earlier, Vision is absent from the bedroom. Instead, the appetizing aroma of food wafts toward her. Following the scent, she discovers him in the kitchen, incongruously clad in a pink apron over his boxers.

As Wanda heads straight for the exit, Vision's voice abruptly stops her.

“Wanda, wait.”

She halts, not turning around, her hand still clutching the handle.

“You act as if I'm luring you back each time, Wanda. Like I'm this puppeteer pulling your strings.” He casually flips whatever he's cooking. “That's not how it is, and you know it.”

Wanda grimaces, his words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “Vision, it's not that—”

He interrupts her, his tone dripping with feigned innocence, “Have I ever forced you? Pushed you into anything? Or have you willingly come to me every time? You have, haven’t you?”

She turns to face him. “You know it’s more complicated than that—”

“Yet you keep coming back. And every time you do, I think, 'Maybe she sees in me what I see in her.' But then you run, making me out to be the villain.” He finally looks up, his eyes pleading and calculating at the same time.

Tears well up in her eyes. She tries to speak, but he continues, overriding her. “You're an intellectual, Wanda. A brilliant mind. I've learned more from you this semester than years combined. Isn't it natural to be drawn to such brilliance? To want more than just lectures?”

“I'm married,” Wanda states with conviction, even though just an hour ago, that fact held no meaning beneath the sheets. “I've made vows. Promises. Every time I’m with you, I question myself, my integrity. I don't know why I keep letting this happen.” Wanda's voice quivers with frustration and desperation. Vision sees it as a minor victory. He knows he's affecting her.

Disregarding the pan and turning off the stove, he approaches her, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to weave his narrative into her consciousness.

“That's just it, isn't it? There's no betrayal. We're not sneaking around, planning secret getaways. We're two souls who've connected on a level that's rare. Deep, profound. We're just... experiencing it.”

She takes a step back, shaking her head furiously. “It's not right.”

He follows, closing the distance between them. When she’s within his reach, he lifts her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Who defines what's right, Wanda? Why is it wrong for two souls with undeniable connection to explore every facet of it? Does it make us bad people to want to feel alive?"

She tries to pull away, her gaze dropping to the floor, but he tightens his grip on her chin. “Look at me,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Tell me you don't feel it. This connection.”

She inhales sharply, her resistance waning. “I do... but I can't understand why.”

He releases her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “Because it's natural. And maybe… maybe there's nothing malicious in it. Nothing deceitful. We're just... experiencing.”

Wanda closes her eyes, his words washing over her, causing further confusion. “What do you want from me?”

He smiles, his touch growing bolder as he cradles her face. “I want friendship. Inspiration. You've become my muse, Wanda.”

“She loves me,” she murmurs, a last-ditch effort to wriggle free from his hold.

“And you love her, right?” he challenges, slowly starting to unbutton her blouse.

“Yes, but—”

“But love isn't singular,” he interrupts, his fingers moving deftly, revealing more of her skin with every second. “You can love her and still find something unique with me. Your love for her isn’t lessened because of our connection.”

Wanda bites her lip. With every piece of clothing he peels away, it feels like he’s stripping away her defenses, too. “It's not just about love. It's about commitment, trust.”

He slides her jacket off her shoulders, his hands warm against her bare arms. “And haven't you committed to her in every other aspect of your life? You share a life, a home, memories, and love. What we have... it's different. It's intellectual, spiritual,” he argues, his gaze never leaving hers.

“But there are lines we’ve crossed—”

“Lines society drew for us.”

She swallows hard, tears threatening to spill. “I just don't want to hurt anyone.”

His voice softens, even as his fingers deftly work at the last buttons of her blouse. “Neither do I. But sometimes, in life, we have to listen to our true desires, to understand what our heart and soul really need. It’s not about being selfish; it’s about being true to oneself.”

And is this one of her 'true' desires?

Before she can articulate things further, the last of her defenses and garments are stripped away, and Visions sheds his boxers and draws her near. Their skins meet, a tantalizing sensation of heat and urgency. Wanda's breath catches as Vision's strong arms wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, their closeness leaving no room for hesitation or doubt.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #my writing #category: angst #iss #my fic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n

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horrorbarbie13 · 6 months

Text

𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

Summary: After a long exhausting day Jenna only wants to come home to you. Thankfully, she is finally able to relax in your arms while in the warmth of a bubble bath.

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Warnings: (+18), smut, praise, a bit of fluff, romance.

Word count: 1.8K

Jenna's day was absolutely awful.

She's completely worn out due to her day on set, the repetition of the same scene to perfection was absolutely exhausting. On top of that, the sky was covered by dark clouds who were threatening to bring a bad storm.

As if the day wasn't going bad enough, being stuck in traffic was really making Jenna's mood drop even more. While her mind was drifting away at how she can't wait to be home and relax, drops of water start to fall on the windshield making her mind turn off the real world. As her eyes follow the drops running down the glass as they're in a race, the storm is all that can be heard as the dark sky is invaded with flashes caused by lighting and thunders.

Suddenly the sound Jenna's phone makes her go back to reality. She picks up to check it and a soft smile grows on her face when she noticed is a text from you.

From Amor 💜 - Hi love 😘 we're out of light in the whole street cause of the storm so pls drive safely, I love you❤❤

Jenna lets out a long breath, the day can't seem to get any worse...

To Amor 💜- I'm almost home, be careful around the house 😘 I love you

After what she felt like it was an eternity Jenna finally gets home. When entering the door she notices there are candles everywhere, the soft light and and amazing smell in the air immediately makes her relax. Exactly what she needed, making her soft smile.

"Baby I'm home" Jenna says loudly looking around for any sight of you

"In the bath, you can come in", Jenna immediately smiles at the sound of you voice. She goes upstairs to take her shoes and her wet jacket off before going to the bathroom.

When she enters she swears my heart immediately skipped a beat at the sight. Like the rest of the house, there's candles lightning up the bathroom and there's a light vanilla smell in the air. The vibe is almost angelic.

You are in the bathtub with the body covered with countless bubbles. Jenna sighs at how breathtaking you look under that kind of light. She fell in love with the sight. She realized she was staring for too long when the sound of your giggle snapped her back to reality.

"Earth calls shorty" you say with a laugh, Jenna giggles back at you and goes to give you a small kiss "Sorry you just looked so beautiful I couldn't help myself", you can't help but blush slightly at her sweet honest words.

"Thank you baby, but are you ok? You look tired", you ask her while looking at her eyes carefully, she noticed how sincerely worried you are.

Jenna sighs loudly, "My day was pretty awful if I'm being sincere, but I want to focus on you now".

"Why don't you take a bath with me? You'll feel relaxed" You say looking up and down her body slowly with you lip between your teeth. She smirks, "Honestly that sounds amazing".

Jenna starts taking her clothes off slowly, she can feel you eyes on her, not leaving for one single second which makes her blush.

"You're so beautiful", the honest confession makes the small girl smile. She carefully gets in the bathtub with you sitting with her back to you, your arms immediately slide around her waist pulling her closer. Jenna sighs feeling her body immediately relax at the warmth of the water and softness of your body. You give her the softest look and Jenna swears she could melt right there in your arms.

Jenna lays her head back on your shoulder and takes a deep breath while you hug her waist tighter, "I needed you so much during the day", she confesses while nuzzling your neck gently.

You kiss the top of her head and runs your fingers on her hip gently. "I'm here now babygirl", she smiled when you kiss her cheek softly.

Jenna decides to close her eyes and let your touch, the smell of the candles and warmth of the water invade her senses allowing her to get the calmness she so eagerly needed.

After a while your fingers trace down to her thigh making Jenna's body tense. You quickly notice which makes you chuckles quietly. Deciding to tease her, you start leaving small wet kisses on her neck, which makes her bite her lip hard trying to hold back her moan.

You pull away from her neck to gently grab the girl's hair and pull it all to just one side giving you more access to her soft skin. Jenna let's out a deep breath when you leave kisses on her shoulder. Her heart melts at the love that was in each kiss, you make her feel so loved.

A soft moan coming from Jenna is heard when you start sucking hard on her neck skin, which makes you smile a bit knowing well she will complain once she sees that you made sure to leave a mark.

After a while you pull back to look at the bruises you left on the divine skin you adored so much, smiling you she kiss her temple before giving her neck all the attention again.

Your tongue goes in a torturing slow pace up her neck making Jenna moan softly. She can feel herself getting wet by each second.

You start moving your fingertips slowly inside her thigh, that movement alone made Jenna feel weak and needy desiering nothing more than your touch. You get closer to her center and without thinking she spreads her legs for you. A moan escapes her lips as she feels your teeth scratching gently her skin.

After some torturing moments, the soft moans were quickly replaced by louder ones when Jenna feels your fingertip rub slightly her clit in a slow pace. Her head is pressed harder on your chest and should and she feels your smirk against her neck. Your hot breath travels to her ear which makes her whole body shiver.

Your finger presses harder on her clit before traveling down slowly.

“Already so wet for me baby, such a good girl", you whisper in her ear with an husky voice that makes her even weaker.

"Please...I need you", she begs not caring how submissive and needy she sounds, she can feel her body needing your touch.

You bite her earlobe and before rubbing her clit with two fingers gently, which makes Jenna sigh loudly finally feeling the relief she needed so bad. Jenna’s hand goes to your thigh that is touching her side and grips it.

Your free hand runs up her stomach brushing your fingers on her nipple. Jenna’s back arches when you grab her boob a bit roughly. She turns her head to hide her face on you neck biting the skin trying not to moan loudly.

With the other hand you continue to rub her clit faster making Jenna moan your name louder.

"Does my little slut like that?", you ask in her ear while putting more pressure on her clit and pinching her nipple carefully. She can only nod with her eyes shut, focused on every single sensation she’s feeling. Suddenly you grab her throat harshly making her look at you.

"Use your words princess", you tell her in a serious tone without stopping looking at each others eyes. Jenna swears she can notice the look of desire in your darker eyes which is making her soaking wet.

"Y-yeah, p-please more", the shorter girl manages to say with a shaky voice. Satisfied, you slide two fingers inside her suddenly making her let out a slight scream. Your grip around her neck gets tighter as you fuck her with harder with each thrust deeply inside her.

Her nails crave into the skin of you thigh while her other hand suddenly grabs the side of the bathtub gripping it really hard.

"B-baby... ", Jenna begins to say but is interrupted by a loud long moan leaving her lips when she feels a third finger sliding in.

"Be a good girl and cum for me babygirl, you wanna make me proud don't you?", as you thrust your fingers faster, with you thumb you start touching her clit.

The feeling of your fingers deep inside, your hand around her throat and the water moving along with your movements gets too extreme for her.

She can't hold it anymore and an intense orgasm hits her. The grip around the bathtub side gets tighter as you can see her knuckles turning almost white and a loud scream echoes through the bathroom walls when she arches her back as she cums all over your fingers.

You very gently continue to thrust your fingers to help her ride out her orgasm without overstimulate her. After a while, while Jenna is still trying to calm down her breathing, you move her hand from her neck and wraps both arms around her skin waist gently.

Still with her eyes closed, she can feel you nuzzle her cheek and leave a few sweet kisses, which makes her melt at the love she felt in that moment. Her day couldn’t have ended in a better way.

"I love you", Jenna murmurs loud enough for you to hear. You smile softly and leave a long kiss on her head , "I love you too baby, let's get out the water it's getting cold".

Jenna can only simply nod before trying to get out, but my legs are too shaky. You quickly notices and giggle with a small proud smirk before picking her up and sitting her next to the sink.

Jenna’s body is exhausted from all that happened that day, so she just lays her head back in the mirror while watching you with a smile, she swears you’re an angel.

You grab a towel and wrap it around your own body before grabbing one and doing the same to Jenna.

Without letting you move back, she holds your face with both hands. You look at each other until both lean in, sharing a really passionate and slow kiss, showing all the emotions.

When you’re both out of breath, Jenna pulls away slowly and hugs your neck, wrapping both arms around you. You kiss her cheek once more and pick the small girl up by the thighs making her giggle.

You both get dressed and get in bed cuddling close while watching a movie, "Thank you for making me feel better and so loved”, she breaks the comfortable silence.

You hold her hand, intertwining your fingers, and look at her, "Jenna, I love you, I'll do anything to make you feel better and loved, the thing I want the most is to be able to make you happy no matter what”, you sincerely tell her while moving a piece of hair out of her beautiful face.

She softly smiles and murmurs a small thank you before pecking your lips. Getting comfortable, she lays her head on your shoulder and continues watching the movie until both of you fall asleep in the warmth of each others bodies.

#jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wlw #tara carpenter #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter smut #fanfic #wednsday addams

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anemhoez · 2 months

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Lunae…

Dan Heng/Reader

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (use protection, even with dragons) and language

A/N: this one’s for the real cultured freaks out there 🫵 we ARE gods strongest soldiers 🫡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“Are you even comfortable here?” you asked Dan Heng, his eyes scanning the screen in front of him. He reached out and tapped the screen, inputting the latest information from your mission into the data bank. “Did you hear me?” your voice a few octaves louder now. Dan Heng smirked, “I did, I just don’t know what you’re talking about?” You simply pointed to the mat on the floor, his comforter and pillow strewn about. “Its a bed, why would I be uncomfortable on it?” You sighed and went over to the screen he was just tapping on. “It’s hardly a bed,” you pulled up the file he just created to review it, “mine is way more comfortable.” The words slipped out of your mouth without much thought, your focus on the text in front of you. “Hmph.” the small sound coming from the man behind you made you realize what you had just said. “What I mean is, I actually have a real mattress!” your face got hot out of nowhere and you tried your best to seem aloof.

Dan Heng stayed quiet as you spoke, “I’m not like, inviting you to sleep in it or anything.” He smiled and walked over to you, his fingers brushing past the screen to close the file. “You sure?” He always kept his responses short, but it always made an impact on you regardless. You figured it was because you had feelings for him. “What I’m trying to say is, you should try to take better care of yourself,” you moved your hands to tug on his jacket, the small gesture making you unsure of your proximity to him.

The two of you admitted to liking each other a few weeks ago after a very close call during a mission. Dan Heng was badly hurt, the Trailblazer and March 7th doing their best to fight off the fragmentum creature ambush as you tended to him. “You fucking idiot,” you cursed as you did your best to heal his wounds with your gifts of abundance, “why did you just jump in front of me like that?!” The glow from your hands reflected on his skin as you looked into his eyes. “Because I care about you, more than normal.” His wounds began to seal shut, a groan of pain escaping his mouth. “Well, the feelings mutual.” you brought your hands to rest on your lap once you were done. Dan Heng sat up, his piercing eyes meeting yours. It was quiet for what felt like hours, but in reality it was only a few seconds before the two of you leaned into one another and kissed. The two of you kissed passionately, only being stopped by March’s voice screaming, “I knew it!”

You remember that kiss fondly, but its been a while since it happened, and you weren’t sure if the two of you still had that connection . You liked him a lot but, didn’t want to seem too clingy. He keeps his feelings to himself most of the time, so you were never really sure how to approach him. “Have you been well?” he asked awkwardly breaking the silence. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yes, I’ve been well, you?” He reached down and took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers together. “I’ve been thinking about, that kiss.” You suddenly felt anxious, wondering where he’d take the conversation from here, maybe he didn’t really like you after that. “What about it Dan Heng?” your voice was practically a whisper, your heart beating faster as he moved in closer. “it was, better than I had imagined.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Your lips brushed against one another, a small chuckle coming from him. You closed the gap, letting yourself melt against him. Your lips melded together in a fervor as you finally got to kiss him again. His hands came to your waist, his grip tight as he pulled you closer. Your hands moved from around his neck and trailed down his tight and toned body. You moaned against his lips, pulling away to look at him, “Do you want to,” your hands stopped at the hem of his jeans. He pulled you back in for a kiss, his hands on your waist squeezing harder before they came to cup your rear. He pulled away, his lips wet and swollen, “Absolutely.” he whispered and began kissing you all over your face. You laughed and started to unbutton his pants, your gut stirring as he continued to kiss you while you reached down and took a handful of him. You screamed internally, his cock semi erect already, letting you know right away that he did want you as bad as you wanted him. You pulled away from him, keeping eye contact as you freed his member from its confines and got down on your knees. “Someone’s eager,” he teased and you watched his jaw go slack as you took his tip into your mouth. His hand came to the back of your head immediately, pushing you further onto him as you took more of him in. Your mouth salivated heavily around him, your core aching as if you could already feel him inside of you.

You bobbed on his long shaft up and down, looking up at him through your lashes, your hands on either one of his thighs. He looked down at you with a cocky smirk, his eyes slowly began to change color to a paler blue. He grunted deeply, his eyes closing shut tightly. You pulled off of him, saliva dripping from your mouth. “Are you ok?” you asked worried if you had hurt him in some way. “Yes, please don’t stop.” he opened his eyes, the usual grayish blue color was back. “I don’t know if I’m hallucinating but, it looked like your eyes changed color,” you said as you pumped him in you hand. Dan Heng shook his head with a chuckle, “Really, how strange.” he said and took off his jacket, his shirt soon meeting the fabric on the floor. The man before you looked down and gently thrusted into your hand, “You’re probably just seeing things, ahh!” he threw his head back as he moaned.

Aeons everything about him was gorgeous. The soft outlines of his abs, the veins that decorated his arms and hands, and those eyes of his. Those piercing eyes of his that bored through you as he looked down at you. He could convince you to commit war crimes right now with that look, “You’re probably right.” you stuttered out before taking him back into your mouth. Your tongue flattened under his shaft as you took him in fully, his tip hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck,” he huffed out, the sensation causing him to buck against you, causing you to gag on him in response. He took a handful of your hair, tugging on it gently, “I need to be inside of you soon.” His words hit your core like a crashing wave, your moans loud as you worked. You reached a hand into your pants, dragging your wetness from your core to your clit and rubbed hard. The sight of you, the way you were pleasuring yourself while sucking him off was way too much and his eyes changed color again, faster this time.

You watched as blue horns began to sprout from his forehead, the shock of what you just watched made you move back and off of him. “Horns?!” you yelped, catching a glimpse of his now longer hair. “And hair?!” your eyes then went to his dick, well, dicks, “AND COCKS?!”Dan Heng turned away from you, muttering something under his breath. He looked back at you, “Sorry, I’m trying to go back to my usual self but, I’m too excited” He adjusted himself back into his pants and reached for his shirt, “I understand if you’re, disgusted.” You stood up and took his hand, “Im not disgusted, I’m just surprised.” You looked at him closely, his face the same despite his eyes and horns. “You’re still the same Dan Heng.” He sighed, moving to lean against the rail that separated his bed area from the rest of the room. “Its complicated but yes, its still me.”

You moved closer to him, your hand rested on his back. You rubbed his back up and down, feeling the small scales that now textured his skin. “You really are the mysterious type huh?” you teased and moved in for a kiss. Your lips met, the tongue in his mouth now forked, but you didn’t pull away and simply moved your tongue along his. When you eventually pulled away though, he looked at you dearly, searching for something in your eyes.“I’ll tell you everything one day, its just, “ he rolled his eyes and sighed again. “Hey its ok, this doesn’t change how I feel about you.” you said trying to reassure him. You moved to bring your arms around his neck, “i’m just worried about you, fitting inside me with, those.” Dan Heng smiled and rested his forehead against yours, “Are you actually, open to that?” he kissed your lips, and licked a path from them to your neck. “Of course, I want you.” His hands came to your pants and he quickly undid them and pulled them down. “Alright then.” he helped you out of the fabric and grabbed you by your thighs, “I’ll have to get you ready then.”

While pulling you closer, he sat on the floor, then lay down on his back. You took the hint and moved to sit on his face. He moaned upon you resting on his mouth, his tongue quickly lapping you up. You pulled off your shirt, finally completely bare in front of him for the first time. He watched as you grabbed your breasts and squeezed them, rolling your nipples between your fingers. His strong hands held you close, his slightly sharper nails digging into your skin. “Dan H-Heng,” you huffed, the pleasure between your legs building. You threw your head back, grinding your hips against his face, reaching behind you to rest your hands on his stomach. His tongue was wrecking you, the forked muscle taking your bud in between it, only to round his lips against it to suck hard. “Aeons,” you cried out, practically bouncing on him, needing more to reach the climax you were chasing. He slurped and sucked, graciously eating you out and licking you like your very essence was ambrosia to him. You felt it. that familiar rush starting to wash over you, your hips grinding faster and harder. You moved your hands from his stomach suddenly reaching forward and grabbing onto his horns tightly as you finally came.

“Ah!” your voice cracked, your body hot from the rush and the look in his eyes as he drank you deep. You let go of his horns, realizing what you did as you moved off of him. “Sorry about that,” he sat up, kissing your mouth immediately. You tasted yourself on him, his breath was heavy as he pulled away, “Don’t be, that felt amazing.” He reached down and pushed his fingers into you, your folds extra messy from your fluids. “Can I touch them again?” He inserted another finger into you, looking at you without a word as he pumped his fingers into you, “Sorry is that weird?” your hips moved against his ministrations. He laughed, “Not at all,” he pulled his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth. He moaned as he licked you off of him. “Go ahead.” he said and reached out to touch your breasts. You moved in and took each horn in your hands. They were hard and slightly cold in your hands, you wondered just how sensitive they were.

You felt compelled to kiss them, so you pecked them softly, starting from the base going up to the rounded tip. The sound that came from his mouth was unlike anything you’ve ever heard, almost like a whine mixed with the sudden loss of breath. You flicked your tongue out, licking long stripes up them. He pulled you closer, his mouth taking one of your nipples in his mouth to muffle the sounds he was making. You continued licking them, teasing them slowly with long sloppy strokes. The horns were slick enough now, and you took one of them into your mouth and sucked. “For Aeons sake!” he yelled and pulled you off and onto your back. This was the most emotion you’d had ever seen from him and fuck was it sexy.

He pulled his cocks out of his pants, lining them up and slowly, agonizingly slowly pushing them into you. “Ahh!” your voice cracked and hitched in your throat, the stretch he was providing almost too much for you. He looked at your face, stopping and trying to gauge your reaction. “Are you-“ he said worried it was too much, too fast. “Just fuck me already!” you pleaded, your eyes half lidded and filled with lust, drool started to drip from one of the corners of your mouth.

Dan Heng continued with your pleading in his ears, your praises about how good he felt aiding in the build up of his peak. He pushed further, soon bottoming out inside of you. He leaned down, his dicks nestled deep inside of you as he came in for a kiss. “Thank you,” his voice was soft, his kisses hard and needy. You kissed him back, sucking and biting on his lips as he thrust in and out of you. He took you by the hands and pinned them above your head, the kiss sloppy and wet, his thrusts picking up speed as his balls slapped against your ass. You moaned loudly, the pleasure so intense and unlike anything you’ve felt before. The feeling of being so full like this, you were certain you’d get addicted to it. “M-More.” you pleaded, wanting even more of what he had to offer, “Harder Dan Heng, please!”

He sat up, pulling you by your thighs, fucking you so hard the sounds reverberated against the walls. Dan Heng’s moans grew louder, a flash of blue appeared behind him, a long dragons tail whipped around behind him. He really had more tricks up his sleeve, huh? You felt the appendage pick you up gently off of the floor, his hands on your hips bringing you to sit on him. “You’re amazing, so fucking amazing.” you huffed out and he smiled against your lips.

His tail felt like light pulses of electricity against your skin, adding to the sensitive sensations you were feeling all over. From this position, and being stuffed so full, you let him do the rest of the work, and he gladly took the lead. He thrusted up into you, his cocks hitting your cervix, brushing against your spot deliciously. The end of his tail rubbed your cheek, coming to your lips and tapping as if it was asking for entrance. You opened your mouth, the semi solid state of it moving in and out with the aid of the saliva that dripped from your mouth. Dan Heng had never had anyone this fully, this close and loving every inch of his dragon form, he felt incredible. With your pussy and mouth filled, you let him use you as a sleeve, your hands coming to his horns once again, holding on for dear life as you moaned deeply, your climax finally washing over you. You clenched down onto Dan Hengs two dicks, his thrusts halting, his orgasm overtaking him right along with you. He growled out, the scales on his body convulsing as he came into you. “Aeons,” you huffed out softly as his tail disappeared with a flash.

He held you close, his chin resting on your shoulder, hands resting on your lower back. You rubbed your hands against the scales on his back, bringing your mouth to his ear to kiss and whisper sweet praises to him. Dan Hengs dragon form slowly began to fade, his horns disappearing and the full feeling inside of you diminishing. You moved back to look at him, his eyes softer now as he admired you from this position. “Lets go to bed,” you kissed him before getting off of him. his seed gushed out of you as you stood up. “Theres so much of it, wow.” He stood up and rummaged through his clothes to find a towel. He came back to you and knelt down before you, gently cleaning himself off of you. “Don’t you mean, go to floor?” he said with a smile and you laughed at his one designated joke a day.

The two of you now clean and laying down cuddled together closely, his hand rubbing your head softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready.” you said as sleep began to overtake you, tired from getting fucked senseless by your crush. You’d never in a million years guess this was the secret Dan Heng was hiding. He pulled you even closer to him, wrapping his other arm around your stomach. He simply kissed your forehead as his form of response and followed you into a deep slumber. Joining the Astral Express continued to prove to be the greatest adventure you’d ever taken in your life, and now you had someone to share it with.

A/N: HE’S FINALLY HOME! Thought this up after finally noticing the place where Dan Heng sleeps in that data room 😭 i fucking love him so much, PLEASE GET HIM A REAL BED WELT!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #dan heng #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #looking at his horns and tail they are like transparent #but i think yall get it lol #honestly?#obsessed with him #WELT GET THAT MAN A DAMN BED!!!

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toxicanonymity · 3 months

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beach walks - prequel.

3.8k surf instructor!Billy x f!reader, night walks AU

WARNINGS: I8+, situationship angst over Joel, infidelity adjacent, forced proximity, smut (mild dubcon?), in public, voyeurism, jealousy. See Billy in action (sex): hot ❤️‍🔥 gif set by @ilovewhiteroses or this video. Skeleton Twins (2014) Feel free to skip this fic if it bothers you.

✨NEXT FIC: Beach Walks

After your late night “swim,” you’re disappointed when Joel doesn’t try to get you into his basement. But he does kiss you goodnight before you walk home. You almost text him and invite him over, but something holds you back. You don't want to mess up the dynamic and scare him away. Maybe he’ll let himself in and get in bed with you. It takes you a while to get to sleep as you realize something has shifted. You're now craving more than his dick and his way with words. You’d be happy to fall asleep in his arms, with or without the morning wood to look forward to.

After this realization, you start overanalyzing things, debating whether and when to text him, reading into how often he texts you and what he says. After a few days of nothing but a dick pic, it feels like it's been weeks. And yet, this was normal before. One night, you break down and send him a pic of a freshly rolled joint with the text, “wanna join?”

He replies “wish I could, gotta be somewhere early 😫.”

After that, he seems to text you less and less. He doesn't initiate and barely texts back. You wonder if he’s bored without the chase, so you try to play it cool. You go for walks by yourself, in case he’ll come out and join you, but weeks go by, and he never does. Some nights you hear the weights clanging in his basement, so he must be fine.

One day, you're outside, locking the basement side door, when an unfamiliar Mercedes Benz SUV pulls out of Joel's cul-de-sac. There's a speed bump just before your house, so it has to slow down, and you can clearly see a woman is driving, and Joel is in the passenger seat. Your stomach drops. He looks more put together, like he spruced himself up for her. She’s pretty. Somewhere between your age and his.

The keys are shaking in your hand as you unlock the door again. You go back inside with your heart racing. Don't text him again, you tell yourself. Don't do it. But after an hour, you do. You ask what he's up to, and he doesn't answer. He doesn't answer all day, and when he finally answers that evening, he acts totally casual, like nothing is up. Small talk. He doesn’t invite you over. Not so much as a dick pic. You leave your door unlocked and cry yourself to sleep. You judge yourself for caring so much.

You keep leaving your door unlocked at night, but he doesn't come. Then, one day, he drives by in the same SUV, with the same woman, and you're not sure you've ever seen him so happy. You’re lightheaded. It's a harsh reality check. You’ve never been exclusive, never had a talk. He'd never even taken you on a date. When you think about that, it makes you sick. Is his wife still in the picture? You decide not to text him again.

You’ve been invited on a beach trip that starts the next day, but you don’t go. You don't have the energy to pack, and part of you is still hoping Joel will just show up at your door one day. But the next few nights, when you walk by his house, all the lights are off. At first, you drive yourself crazy thinking about where he could be, but does it really matter? Your anxiety starts to fade into sadness.

You’ve got to get your mind off it, so you drive solo to catch up with your friends at the beach.

******

The resort is humble but sprawling. There are kayaks and surf lessons. You're tempted by the kayaks, but on the first day, you just relax on the beach. As soon as you lay out your towel, your friends tell you about the hot surf instructor. Then, later that day, they swear he's checking you out. You catch a glimpse from behind first, and he has a nice back.

You see the surf instructor at breakfast the next morning, and he smiles at you. It’s a devastating smile that erases all your thoughts for a second. You can’t even look right at him. You look behind yourself, and it couldn't be anyone else he was looking at. He laughs silently, then gets in line next to you. He looks at the eggs on your plate.

You’re not expecting his Australian accent. “Sunny side up. . .good to know.” It takes you a second, then your chest flutters when it hits you. “Enjoy,” he adds with a wink, then walks away. He moves like he has no worries and nowhere to be.

When you tell your friends, they lose their minds. All day they’re talking about what you could do, and speculating about his dick, and whether he’s that chill in the bedroom, too. They think he’s probably a freak. A few hours later, you realize you’ve barely thought about Joel all day, for the first time in weeks, and it feels good. You begin to think maybe a vacation fling could help you move on. Assuming that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Later that day, you're in the lobby waiting for a friend when the surf instructor comes in from the beach. You play it cool, but he sees you, stops, and takes off his shades. He approaches, and you get your first really good look at him up close. He's tall, tan, and shredded, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s got small ear gauges, and a tattoo of something with tentacles winding up his neck. He's chewing gum.

A mischievous sparkle plays on his eyes as he spreads his feet and crosses his arms. "Saw ya layin’ out, nice ‘n’ dry. . .thought I should let ya know, the real fun’s in the water."

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. "Love to get ya on a board, if ya don't surf already."

You laugh. "No, I don't."

He checks you out, then asks, “How ‘bout it?” and waits patiently for your yes.

"Maybe," you crack a smile.

"No charge. . .Name's Billy." He extends his hand. As you shake hands, he leans in closer, lowers his voice, and says, "’Lot funner gettin’ wet." As he steps away, he offers, "Come down around five, yeah?" Your tummy is swarming with butterflies as he walks off, and it must be evident. Your friend immediately assumes he asked you out.

—

You go down to the shore at five to meet Billy. Storm clouds are rolling in. Billy is looking at the sky and idly spinning a whistle on a string. He has two boards laid out. As you approach, he looks at his watch. “Punctual, aren't ya?”

First, he teaches you how to hop up on the board, something you weren’t even sure you could do. Then he demonstrates the right stance, and you can't help but notice the way his thigh muscles swell out from his swim trunks. The teal swim trunks are a little on the shorter side, which is only emphasized by the black, long-sleeve rash guard he’s wearing. Your gaze is dangerously close to his crotch when you pull your eyes back up to his face.

He looks at your stance, and asks, “Mind if I touch ya?”

“Please,” you answer without thinking.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head playfully. “Knew ya were a bad girl.”

“I mean,” your face heats up with a smile, and he raises his eyebrows. “I mean I need all the help I can get.” He indulges you with a contemplative nod.

“Sure, love.” He comes around to stand next to you. Thunder begins to rumble, and he glances at the sky.

He crouches down, and one foot at a time, you let him adjust your position on the board. As he begins to stand, he looks up at you and his hand skims up the back of your calf, breaking away at the knee.

He steps a little closer and gently presses on the small of your back. “There ya go.” Then he gets behind you and leans forward, curving his body with yours. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls them back. He’s so close you can feel his body heat. His hands slide up your sides, hitching briefly on the bottom string of your swim top. Then he slots his hands under your arms and adjusts your posture. “Good girl,” he murmurs, then there's a loud boom of thunder. Rain begins to dot the sand before you feel it on your skin. “It’ll blow over,” he reassures you.

To wait out the storm, Billy invites you into the surf shack, up past the dunes. He leaves the door open. He doesn’t turn a light on, but there are a few windows. It’s only one room. It's got surfboards, lifeguard stuff, an old TV with a DVD/VCR combo, and a loveseat. In front of the loveseat, there’s a coffee table with a bong on it. Almost as soon as he walks in, he’s taking off his long sleeves.

“Gets muggy in here quick,” he warns as he plops down on the loveseat. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. “Suppose we could watch a movie,” he muses and picks up two remote controls from the coffee table. He puts on Jaws at low volume so you can still listen to the storm. He offers the bong, but you decline.

He faces you, resting his head in his hand, with his elbow on the back of the loveseat. You mirror his posture, and he shamelessly checks you out, once again.

You make small talk about the weather and the resort. With his free hand, he idly strokes his own sternum, slowly dragging his middle finger up and down between his pecs. His nipples are pierced – the bars are so subtle you couldn’t tell through his top.

After a lull in the conversation, you adjust your position to face the tv. He stretches his arm across the back of the loveseat, and his hand is right behind your head. He begins to lightly caress the nape of your neck with his thumb. You don’t flinch or pull away. You chew your bottom lip, and your heart races. His eyes are glued to your body, and you’re barely pretending to watch the movie.

“So,” he asks, “Could ya feel me starin’ at your arse yesterday?”

You laugh. “No.”

“Well, I was,” he nods. “When ya were layin’ out.”

Finally you look at him, and when your eyes meet, he begins to let his fingers slowly dance on your thigh, sending a rush of desire to your loins.

You’re suddenly nervous. You don't remember how to do this. You half heartedly begin to say, “Maybe I should. . .”

“Come a little closer?” A loud clap of thunder shakes the whole shack. “Nowhere for us to go now, is there?”

He glances at the window where the sky has darkened and heavy rain is coating the glass. His voice drops. “Kinda like this storm, if I’m honest,” he admits.

“Yeah,” you quietly agree.

His thumb separates from the back of your neck, then your halter string tightens for a moment before completely loosening.

“Oops,” he whispers, looking at you.

You gasp and your hand comes to your chest to hold the top up as you turn toward him again, bringing your knee up on the cushion. Your face burns and you laugh his name in mock admonishment.

"Got a boyfriend?” He asks. “Girlfriend?"

"No," you shake your head.

"Wouldn't stop me, anyway.” His hand curves lightly around your inner thigh, stroking your warm skin. His caress gets higher and higher, further toward your throbbing core. “Not if ya want it, love. What kinda feminist would I be then?” He tilts his head and slides his hand all the way up to the crotch of your swimsuit. “Nah, what she wants, she gets,” he murmurs, staring at his hand between your legs. A knuckle nudges the crotch of your swimsuit, and you’re gushing for him. One corner of his mouth twitches knowingly as he meets your eyes again. “And I think ya want it.” God, he’s hot. He’s so hot, and so right.

The hand behind you cradles your head, and his gaze falls on your lips. His blue eyes are dark with lust. He leans in, pauses with his lips about two inches from yours. You close the gap yourself, accepting the embrace of his smooth lips on yours. Soon he tilts his head, and his tongue slides into your mouth. You drop your hand from your chest, and the un-tied strings still dangling on your back precariously hold your top up. As the kiss becomes hungrier, his hand slides easily into one side of your loosened bikini. His fingers bracket your nipple as he caresses your breast then cups with a soft, “mmm,” into your mouth. You’re absolutely throbbing.

There's a clattering outside, then an unfamiliar voice. "We've got someone out in the surf, down toward the pier."

Your eyes fly to the door, embarrassed, but the man doesn't even look at you. You quickly re-tie your swimsuit. Billy adjusts himself and replies, “Alright mate, let's hop on the jetski.”

“It’s ready.” The man steps outside to wait.

When Billy stands up, you see a massive protrusion in his shorts, resting against his upper thigh, and your breath hitches. You accidentally stare, and he smirks when he notices. “Yeah?” he asks with a downward glance. He holds his hand out and you give him yours as you stand up. He puts your hand on the bulge in his shorts. It’s stiff and warm and makes you ache to be filled. “All for you, love.” He drops your hand but it stays there for a split second.

He pulls his rashguard on and adjusts his shorts, then gives you a short but heated kiss. “Find ya later.”

—----

When the storm dies down enough, you run up the beach, arms squeezed together in front of you. You grab a towel from the hut by the pool and enter the lobby. A man has just left the vending area, and you do a double-take when you see a bag of takis in his hand, but he's already walking away. Your heart jumps when you see he's wearing pj pants. But it couldn't possibly be Joel. Not this far from home.

You brush it off, but for the rest of the day, you can't get Joel out of your mind, except for when you let your thoughts drift to being in that shack with Billy. It's gotten worse than you thought if you're thinking Joel is there on the island based on a bag of chips and someone dressing comfortably on vacation.

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to let Billy fuck you. Maybe you need this.

You're restless and don't have any privacy to get off. After dark, you go out to the pool, and quietly slip into the water, ignoring the sign that says “closed.”.

The water is about nipple-height where you are. You face the pool and rest your arms on the side, letting your legs float in front of you. You close your eyes and squeeze your thighs together thinking about what might have happened in that shack if you weren’t interrupted earlier. And just when you’re picturing what Billy looks and sounds like when he comes, you hear his voice.

"Pool's closed, rulebreaker."

You look toward his voice, and he puts down a bag near your towel. You ask, "Gonna tell on me?"

He takes off his rash guard and stretches, jutting his chest and pelvis forward with his hands clasped behind his back, then he walks over and dives in the deep end. He swims underwater and comes up for air a few feet from you. When he surfaces, he tousles his hair.

He slowly approaches, wetting his lips. He looks even sexier in the dark. "Where were we, love," he murmurs. His hands start at your floating feet–he spreads them apart, making room for himself between your legs. Then his hands slide all the way up your legs as he gets closer. He pulls you against him and you loosely wrap your legs around him.

"There ya go," he murmurs, then dips his head and cradles yours. He kisses you long and hard. He pushes his hips forward, pinning you against the pool wall, and his cock stiffens against you. Then he pulls you off the wall and holds you by the ass so his arousal is firmly pressing against your tingling front. You wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks lower into the water. He kisses and sucks your neck, just above the waterline. He’s probably leaving a mark, and you don’t care. You don’t really care about anything but the mutual throbbing between your legs at the moment.

—

You feel someone watching, and when Billy goes after your neck again, you scan the balconies until you see a dark figure sitting on a second floor balcony. You look for a few seconds and can't make out anything. You scold yourself for thinking about Joel and wrap your legs tighter around Billy. His cock swells harder against your clit, and your thoughts are gone again. You moan softly as he grinds you on himself and kisses you needily, from your lips to your neck, your throat, under your chin, back to your lips. Billy pulls your top down enough to feel your nipples against his chest and lets out a sigh that makes you ache all over with need.

The man on the balcony stands up, steps forward, and boldly leans on the railing and clasps his hands, watching. He’s still a silhouette, and you try not to look right at him.

"There's, um. Someone watching," you tell Billy.

"Bother ya?" Billy asks, keeping his eyes glued to you.

You adjust your swimsuit to cover your nipples, and he says, "Guess so, huh. Drink at my place then?"

"I dunno," you say reflexively.

He whispers in your ear, “Come home with me,” then gently bites your neck and pulls you tighter against his massive erection. You quietly gasp.

“I can't, we’re going to sunrise yoga.”

“Yours then,” he offers, undeterred and growing breathless with desire.

“My friends are there.”

“Mine’s just a few minutes up the beach. I'll bring ya back,” he offers, “Go to yoga with ya.” He begins to move your body against his again. God, you want that hard cock. Just a few days ago, the thought of anyone but Joel did nothing for you, and now, here you are.

You bite your lip and hum, “mm,” in contemplation.

"A drink at the bar," he offers, nodding toward the hotel bar. "Then my place."

You smile and he presses a gentle, closed-mouth kiss onto your lips. You're smiling against each other’s mouths for a second, until his cock throbs against you, and he seals his lips on yours, and your tongues need each other again. He grinds you against him for a few seconds and moans into your mouth before you pull your head away, and remind him, “Drink at the bar.”

“Alright,” he breathes. His cock twitches against you "Gimme a minute, love. . . Fuck, I can't walk in like this," he laughs.

Footsteps approach, and you pull away from Billy. The footsteps are from a man with shoulder length hair and a mustache. He's grinning, looking down. He keeps walking, and as he passes by he laughs, "hey, I didn't see nothin', man."

Billy looks up. "Tommyyy. Wanna catch a wave tomorrow?"

"Nah, we're rollin' out in the morning."

"Alright, mate. Good seein' ya.”

The voice of the stranger has jolted you back from your horny stupor. "I'm actually really tired," you say, facing the side of the pool. You put your forearms up on the side and rest your cheek on your hands.

Billy groans in disappointment, but he gets it.

"Maybe tomorrow night," you muse.

"I've got a set at Aqua tomorrow. You should come."

"A set?"

"I'm a DJ. And as for tonight. . ." He gets close behind you and murmurs near your ear. "I won’t leave ya like this. What kinda gentleman would I be?" Thank God. He snakes his arm around your front. The stiff shape in his swim trunks presses against your crack.

He cups your whole pussy, and his middle finger prods at the fabric right at your entrance. "Gonna let me in here next time, aren’t ya?" he whispers and begins to rub you over the fabric. Pleasure is building in your core. You begin to lose yourself under his expert touch. "Yeah, there we go." He slides his other hand up under one side of your top and his bare palm covers your nipple. You could cum any second with his hardness grinding against you.

He slips his hand into your swimsuit and rubs your clit as he palms your tit. Your head falls back, he kisses your neck, then you let it happen. You gasp and try not to be too loud as your final ascent begins, with Billy slowly rutting against your backside, breathing heavily in your ear.

—----------------

Joel doesn’t have a great view, and his eyes are tired from the sun, but he keeps watching. He’s convinced himself it’s not you, that he’s just been driving himself crazy thinking of you.

Even from a distance, it’s really hot to see. It reminds Joel of your last hook-up. Desire stirs in his pants, and he’s going to have to jack off. Maybe he’ll send you a jack-off video—he can do that now. Joel palms himself as he turns to go back inside. Then, you moan loud enough that he freezes with his hand on the sliding door. He’s heard that moan too many times.

. . .Did he just watch you, in the pool with Billy, hours from home? He tries not to look back as he goes inside and closes the door behind him.

He’s not jealous. Not jealous, he tells himself.

He has no right to be.

You don’t owe him anything, and he knows that.

He’s fine. Not freaking out.

Joel’s a chill guy, even without the weed. But his ears are hot, and his heart is pounding so hard he can hear it. He smacks the wall and yells, “FUCK,” as a picture frame falls. He tries to shake the pain off his hand.

What are you even doing here?

“You alright, man?” Tommy asks, muffled through the wall.

Joel rakes both hands through his hair and takes a few deep breaths.

“Joel?” Tommy asks and cracks open the door between their rooms.

“Yeah,” Joel answers as he sits down on the bed. He interlaces his fingers behind his head, elbows pointing forward. “I’m just stupid.”

------

thank you for reading!

#f!reader #night walks!reader #the skeleton twins #night walks!joel #FIWB #toxicanonymity ☠️#cuck!joel miller #joel miller angst #our favorite white boy #boyd holbrook #boyd bungalow ☠️#billy x reader #billy skeleton twins #beach walks #boyd holbrook smut #👱‍♂️

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deliciousbasementtrash · 7 months

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Injustice Gods Among Us Year 5 #15

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. Will you take it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, parental abuse, parental neglect

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One, Part Two

Part Three: Skip-Bo and Chess

My mind raced as I went over the contract. Everything seemed too simple, too easy. The only terms and conditions I had to abide by were that I wouldn’t reveal his identity and that I would need to essentially be on call from the hours of 21:00 to 7:00, but roughly 24/7. The pay was a ridiculous amount. The insurance was crazy good. I didn’t realize it was possible to get that much coverage. But this went against everything I have represented in my life. Would I be betraying the people of Gotham, my patients, and my fellow coworkers, by taking this job? Would I be betraying myself and my past history?

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago

My father and I stood over my mother’s grave. It was strange. My mom was a woman who breathed life into everything. She never wore a dull color, she danced whenever she could, and she sang horribly and off tune. She wore her hair in two long braids with colorful ribbons. She wore sweet perfume. She wore red lipstick. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets she jingled when she walked. She snorted when she laughed. And now when I looked at her all I saw was dirt and a gravestone. Her colorfulness, her loudness, her laughter, her joy, all of it was gone. I knew I couldn’t cry though. Not in front of Dad. He got so much meaner when I did. Sometimes I wonder what my beautiful, colorful, caring mother saw in this cruel bleak man. But I guess his bitterness was supposed to balance out her sweetness.

But without her, it felt like I was choking on the disgusting taste of my reality. We were grieving. We had no money. And the debt just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. I tried selling homemade cookies at school to help out. I raised about 22 dollars. I came home with a smile on my face and handed my father the money. He pocketed it without another word. It was almost worse when he was like this.

It felt like he was a teapot that was brewing and I was just waiting for the wrong thing to set him off.

Some days when I came home from school he was home. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. Other days he wasn’t there. I had to scavenge the house for food or walk to the convenience store with what little money I had scurried away.

It felt like my life had become black and white without my mom. Everything seemed so hopelessly bad. Then one day my dad came home with a smile on his face. My first instinct was to tense my body and avert my gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do.

“Sweetie, come with me. I have an idea,” my father said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the door with him.

He drove like a maniac and pulled up towards a seemingly abandoned building. My blood ran cold with anticipation.

My father practically ripped me out of the car and dragged me inside. Inside there were about twenty men all pretty beat up. All of them looked at me. I picked at my hangnails and looked at my father.

“Y/n, these gentlemen need to be healed. Be a doll and heal them.” My father’s words were clipped, and my pulse raced. I merely nodded and healed man after man. It became clear to me, even at my young age, that these men were a part of a gang. Who’s? I had no idea.

That was until a fat man in a tuxedo and a cane walked up to my father. He handed him a bundle of cash, they whispered some hurried words and the grotesque man leaned down towards me.

His short fat finger booped my nose, and the man tilted his head back and laughed at my reaction. I wanted to bite his finger off. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom.

For the next two years, my father did business with anyone that could pay him. Our life went from living by the penny to living in luxury. All due to my power. The richest of the rich, politicians, businessmen, criminals, and villains, all used my services. And eventually, they tried to buy me.

That’s when I decided to run away. Or die trying.

Gotham City: Present Day

I sat across from Sam, my best friend, and nurse colleague. “What do you think I should do?” She was the only one that I trusted enough to tell everything to. Of course, I left out the whole, ‘My boss would be Batman thing.’

“Girl, if you don’t take this job I will kill you,” Sam said, taking a large bite of her pasta.

“Do you think I’m betraying my younger self? I promised I would never be bought. I would never work for a corrupt man.”

“Maybe you should discuss with Mr. Wayne, that you would like to remain a nurse part-time. That way you ease your conscious about everything but still live in a fucking MANSION and make BANK, you dummy head. And this way you’re reclaiming your past. You get to choose. You’re not trapped.”

I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. “That’s not a terrible idea.”

“Of course not, I never have bad ideas. Take one more night to think about it. But I think you have your answer.”

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I grabbed my phone, the bright screen making me blink.

[I accept your terms, but I do have a few remediations to the contract. Signed, y/f/n y/l/n.]

One week later.

“How are you taking to your new living situation, Miss y/l/n?” Alfred asked as he expertly julienned an onion. I not as gracefully diced several cloves of garlic across from him.

I looked up at him, smiling, “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” It had become a silent routine over the past week. When I wasn’t working at the hospital, or patching up Batman, I got bored. So, I started helping Alfred with cooking.

He taught me how to play chess. I taught him how to play Skip-Bo and dominos. I had grown quite fond of the man over the short period. It most definitely was my daddy issues clinging to the first nice man I saw. But Alfred Pennyworth seemed truly kind to me.

I hadn’t met any other members of Bruce’s family, but supposedly they were all meeting for dinner tonight. For some reason, my pulse spiked at the thought of meeting them. My past gave me anxiety when meeting new people I didn’t know.

As if reading my thoughts Alfred asked, “How are you feeling about meeting everyone tonight?”

I cut a piece of garlic a bit harshly, “I’m– I’m fine. Do you know if I am to meet them after the dinner or before?”

Alfred’s eyebrows quirked, “What do you mean? You most probably will meet them at dinner. You are attending are you not?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat with the family or not,” I stated, hesitantly.

I heard a twang of metal as Alfred set down his knife. He gave me his full attention as he said, “Master Wayne may seem abrasive, Miss. But I assure you, he would never have to eat separately unless that is what you wished.”

Abrasive was one way to put it. He often reminded me of a feral cat when I tried to heal him. He would practically hiss that he was fine. I had to politely remind my employer a few times that this was what I was here for and to let me heal him.

We cooked in silence for a while, when out of the blue I asked Alfred, “Alfred, are you happy?”

Alfred always holding his poise answered calmly, “Happiness is something that fluctuates in my life, Miss. I will say that knowing that Master Wayne and the rest of the family are in your capable hands is reassuring me as of late. I also have been enjoying your company, no matter how many times you beat me in Skip-Bo.”

I laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Hey, you win every time we play chess!”

Alfred smiled softly, “Miss I have been playing chess since I was five years old. If I lost I think I would have to revoke my Englishmanship.”

After my laughter died down, another question popped in my head, “What are they like? Mr. Wayne’s family?”

Alfred smiled, “Those children are loud, argumentative, loyal, funny, stubborn, etc. I love those children with everything I am. You will too, Miss y/l/n.”

An unfamiliar sense of warmth bloomed in my chest, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n.”

As I was getting dressed. I could not pick out what I wanted to wear. Did I want to go casual with a tee shirt and jeans? A bit more formal with a dress? Semi-casual with a skirt and sweater? I decided on the last one, with some tights on underneath. I wanted to make a good impression. It felt like the first day of school. I made my way down the stairs. No one had arrived yet. I took a seat next to Alfred, my leg bouncing.

Alfred patted my shoulder when we heard the door open, “It will be just fine.”

The loud oncoming footsteps mimicked my thundering pulse.

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midnightfictionlibrary · 10 months

Text

You're the One - Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

You’re the One - Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

Content : best friends to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count : 1.3k

Summary : Two Times Jamie Tartt realized you were the one, and the one time he did something about it.

A/N : A stand alone fic while I work on the next chapter of the Jamie/Roy/Reader love triangle fic. This idea popped into my head after listening to You’re the One by the Black Keys. As always, please like and reblog if you enjoy! <333

1. After the Broken Engagement

The rain pattered softly against the windows, and Jamie sat contentedly on his couch, the blue glow from the television playing over that week’s best football highlights. It was an uneventful week it seemed, but he still insisted on catching up. Just as he’s about to switch the channel, he hears a knock at the door.

Brows furrowed, he stands up and pulls his hoodie sleeves down over his hands. God knows his hands were always cold. When he opens the door, he’s greeted by you. Well, a soaking wet, sobbing, you.

“Fuck, babe, what’s wrong?” He says, immediately concerned, his heart wrenching for you. He doesn’t care that you were soaking wet, he gathers you in his arms as the most heartbreaking cries leave your lips. He didn’t even care that he accidentally called you babe.

“L-Leo…h-he-” you gasp, “in our bed.” You cry, wrenching the ring off of your left hand violently and dropping it on Jamie’s front porch. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces fall into place for Jamie, and he takes your face in his hands and forces you to look at him.

“Listen t’me. You…” He pauses, trying to find the right words. You stare at him, comforted immensely by his presence already. His warmth radiates into your own body, making you feel safe. That was how Jamie made you feel, and he knew it, too. “You deserve better than that prick, yeah? Too fuckin’ pretty and smart and kind to be crying over a prick like that.” He says, pulling you in to hold you. And you let him.

The feeling of you against his body, calming already from his presence made Jamie realize you were the one he adored. He didn’t need anybody else. Even if you were engaged to someone that wasn’t him, he was always going to be there for you. Just like he was now. And he didn’t think anything could change that.

Later, he lets you sleep in his bed, promising to go with you to your flat the next day to grab your belongings while that prick Leo was at work. He’s about to leave when your slender hand reaches out to intertwine your fingers together. “Please stay.” You whisper, and Jamie’s heart skips a beat, lying next to you. You rest your head on his chest, still sniffling slightly.

As he kisses the top of your head affectionately, he knows he’s done for. You had burrowed your way into his affections from the moment he met you, three years ago.

2.After The First Match Using Total Football

Jamie was out with the team, the owners, and quite a few friends at Sam’s restaurant as a celebration for their victory that afternoon. But, he still hadn’t seen you. As the team’s social media manager, he knew you were probably editing posts and queuing them up for the next day, but he still wished you were there.

Roy pretended not to notice how Jamie kept glancing around for you.

Keeley pretended she had no idea where you were.

In reality, you were just running a bit behind, but you wanted Jamie to be surprised when he realized you, his best friend, were wearing his number. He had mentioned to you that no one close ever came to his matches sporting his kit, and you had decided to change that.

When you walk into Ola’s, you catch Sam’s eye and wave profusely, running up to hug him, giving him a few pecks on the cheek. “Sam!” You pause. “Oh my gosh, this place is amazing.”

Before Sam can answer you, you feel a tap on the shoulder. You turn around, seeing a flustered and blushing Jamie.

“Wh..what are ya wearin’?” He asks, seeming to choke on his words slightly, and you grin at him brightly, pleased at how surprised and touched he seemed.

“Oh this? Just the number of my favorite Richmond player.” You say, nonchalantly, giggling at the way Jamie’s cheeks tinge pink for a moment.

Jamie doesn’t respond for a moment, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and crushing you into a hug. “Thank you.” He whispers, and when he pulls back you smile tenderly at him, pushing a few strands of hair from his forehead.

“Nothing to it, Tartt. You’ll always be my favorite.” You wink, looping your arm through his. “Now, can a tired social media manager get a drink around here?”

He chuckles, leading you to the bar, and while he watches you order, he can’t help but just stare at you. Roy pretends not to notice again, and Jamie is thankful. He thought it was more than obvious that he adored you, but it didn’t seem like you were picking up on that. He takes a sip of his beer, looking away from you when you turn your attention back to him.

“I’m really proud of you, Jamie.” You say, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Nah, you ain’t got nothin’ to praise me for. Just playin’ the game like always.” God, he thought if his face got any more heated he’d have to excuse himself for some air. You tsk, poking his side before moving to speak to Keeley and Rebecca. The number 9 on your back burned itself into Jamie’s mind, and he swore that day he fell even more in love. If that was possible.

3.After Amsterdam

It was late, and you flipped a page of your book, putting your cat-themed bookmark in when you realized you’ve reached the end of the chapter. Setting the book down on your coffee table, you move to the kitchen to start preparing your favorite nighttime tea. Your orange cat, Gizmo, purrs loudly at your feet, and you stoop down to give him a few scratches behind his ears.

You’re just finishing preparing your tea, stirring your tiny teaspoon in your mug when you hear a series of frantic knocks at the door. You leave the spoon in your mug, taking a glance through the peephole before you open the door.

“Jamie?” You ask, “Did you just get back from Amsterdam?”

“I saw a windmill.” He says, breathlessly, like he had run to your flat.

“What?”

“I- sorry. S’not the point. Realized I had t’come and tell you that I fuckin’ adore ya, yeah? I can’t take it anymore. I’m losing me mind thinkin’ about ya all the time. ‘M in love with you.”

You stand there, utterly speechless. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Here he was, Jamie Tartt, your best friend, admitting that he thought about you all the time.

Jamie steps into your flat, taking your hand. “Please say somethin’.”

“I..I love you, too.” You whisper.

“Yeah?” He asks, almost as if he can’t believe it.

“Ever since you took care of me that night I threw my ring down on your front porch.”

Jamie can’t take it anymore, he cradles your face and kisses you passionately. “Want” he says “to give you a ring of my own” through small sweet kisses to your lips.

Your mug of tea sits forgotten as you pull Jamie close, stumbling clumsily into your bedroom. You both collapse on your bed, him on top of you. “You’re the one, Jamie.” You whisper, and he grins at you before capturing you in a kiss that has your head reeling.

Gizmo meows lightly, curling up on the couch as it starts to rain, his owner relishing in a love with his other favorite human.

The two of you stay in bed until late the next morning, unable to get enough of each other.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt #best friends to lovers #ted lasso fanfic #longing #jamie tartt fanfiction #friends to lovers #pining

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lilmashae · 3 months

Text

first and last! — park sunghoon x female reader

wordcount: 3.4k | warnings: eventual smut, light angst, maybe some form of enemies to lovers, petnames, weird timestamps (skips) | summary: your unrequited love, park sunghoon realizes just how much he needs you: resulting in a rekindling of past love! | author's note: i think i lost the plot somewhere along the way... oops !

you wake up to a sunny morning, drawing back your curtains to let the light flood your room. it felt like a perfect day: your uniform fit just right, the sun beamed brilliantly, and the flowers outside painted a pretty picture. but nothing quite matched the charm of sunghoon, your neighbor, pacing in his room across the lawn, searching for something. you often stole glances at him through his window — studying, getting ready, or simply lost in thought. however, today he caught you staring, and after receiving a small wave from you, he simply huffed and closed his blinds.

despite being neighbors with a thin lawn being the only thing separating you, your worlds couldn't be more different. in yours, sunghoon was everything, while in his, you barely registered. yet, you weren't persistent, except when it mattered — like now, with your long term crush on him ever since you were younger and your parents would force you two to have playdates.

"hey park!" you'd call out from behind him as you two walked to school together in the eighth grade. "y/n..."

sure, he wasn't always the nicest, but it was his moments of kindness that stood out to you: like when he helped you up after watching you fall off your bike when you were younger, or standing up to your bullies in the tenth grade. he was always there for you when it truly mattered, wiping your tears and helping you up — even helping you pass every exam, calming your mind when you were frustrated. "fuck, i just can't do it!" you cursed with your head buried into your arms. "you're fine, y/n... you've got it all under control, okay?"

as you grew up, you also couldn't help but notice his sudden attractiveness too. he was everything you’d written about in your diary: dreamy and smart. meanwhile, he seemed indifferent, brushing off your affection without a second thought.

you crossed paths every day, attending the same high school and walking home together. "hey, sunghoon! wait up!" every time your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat—maybe there was he liked you in the slightest? but those hopes usually crashed against the reality of sunghoon's cold responses.

"i don't want to be late," he'd say — his voice monotone yet strangely comforting to you. you'd try to engage him, but his indifference always kept you at arm's length.

one afternoon, when the school was empty, you mustered the courage to confess your feelings — only to be met with rejection, delivered with a cruelty that cut deeper than any blade could. it hurt more than you expected, realizing that your pursuit of him was absolutely fruitless.

he'd been your neighbor your whole life, yet he'd always been so distant — that sliver of lawn must've been a lot bigger than you remembered. even from childhood to adolescence and now adulthood, you were always the one chasing him, praying for a flourishing love that never bloomed in the slightest. and as he walked away, leaving you shattered, you finally grasped the depth of his indifference.

through tears, you faced the truth: you'd clung to false hope for years. despite trying to move on, sunghoon's memory lingered, haunting your every thought — and as you left for college, you looked back at his house one last time, reminiscing about your silly crush on park sunghoon, your neighbor who never really cared about you.

you spent most of your summer with your friends, going out to keep your mind off of sunghoon — and for the most part, it worked. you went on spontaneous trips with friends — even going to australia with your friend, jake — staying there for almost half of your break. you went to festivals and picked up new hobbies: meeting new people and laughing wherever you went. with each new experience, sunghoon’s memory faded, replaced by smiles and bonding, the haunting chills of your childish stupidity melting away as you embraced living in the moment, rediscovering your love.

the months flew by quickly, you ended up spending your last few weeks before college with your family at home, not once did you open your window and look out at his house — totally at peace with his rejection.

it was your first day and admittedly you were nervous — walking on a new campus full of strangers, except for one or two friends. you reminded yourself that everything'd be fine: you looked good adorned in your new clothes and hairstyle — your books were secure in your tote bag and your laptop was charged. you were more than ready, and the day'd be perfect.

you took a deep breath before entering your first class, finding a seat near the door — scrolling through your phone until the professor arrived with the syllabus review. "y/n!" you peered over your shoulder at the door, one of your friends waving at you with a huge smile plastered on her face. "hey, it's good to see you." she sat beside you, the two of you talking about your summers until the class began.

"how long've you been on campus?"

"hm... maybe a while, i moved into my dorm a couple of days ago." you replied as you finished packing. "oh, so have you been to the café down the street? there's this barista... he's so cute!" she nudged your shoulder as the two of you walked out. "i can't say i've been… i’m not busy later, we can go if you want?”

“great! i’ll see you then, okay?” you nodded, waving her off as you walked to your next class until you’d see her later that evening.

the cafe was cozy — warm and welcoming. as you and your friend queued up to order your drinks, you couldn't shake off the sense of anticipation. but what caught you off guard was the barista behind the counter, who looked oddly familiar. he flashed a warm smile, "hey there, what can i get for you?"

holy shit.

your heart skipped a beat as you looked up, stunned to see sunghoon standing behind the counter, wearing an apron in place of their old highschool uniform. you blinked in disbelief, trying to process the unexpected encounter. sunghoon, the same person you’d had spent years pining over, was the same one taking your coffee order. “are you ready to order?” you’d spaced out — lost in thought.

your friend nudged you, breaking you out of your daze. “y/n! what’d you want?” with a slightly shaky voice, you swallow your embarrassment: “uh, sorry.” an awkward laugh abruptly pushed past your lips. “americano… please.” you were trying to act casual despite the flutter of excitement in your chest. “a matcha, please!” your friend orders and he nods. as sunghoon prepares your drink, your eyes met briefly — you can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline, wondering if he remembers you.

after receiving your drink, you thanked sunghoon with an uneasy smile, feeling a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “thanks.” you begin walking back to your table, but not before hearing that weirdly comforting monotone voice. “yeah, of course.” it seemed the roles were reversed, with you being the one walking away from him instead. It wasn’t until after you left that sunghoon’d realized how much he’d really liked you — he missed walking to school together and catching you glance at him through your perfectly aligned bedroom windows. and when he ran across that sliver of grass, knocking on your door, your mom answered, “she’s gone out of the country, sunghoon, i’m sorry.”

“do you know when she’ll be back?”

“some time before you kids start school, but i can’t be sure.”

sunghoon couldn’t dare let you get away again — not after sitting in his room all summer, coming to terms with the fact that you’d probably never want to see him again.

“hey, uhm y/n?”

it was an unexpected twist to your first day of college, but you didn’t want to deny the spark of intrigue that ignited within you when he called out. you leaned on your heel, turning around swiftly. “yeah… sunghoon, right?” he nodded, and suddenly, your mouth felt dry. "it's been a while!" you awkwardly smiled — this wasn't the ideal situation, but it's still your first day and you have to make it work. "mhm... how've you been?"

it was all so new to you, how he seemed to take interest in your life: when you two were younger, it felt like it was always you — starting a bland conversation, asking how he was, greeting him in hallways with a warm smile: putting in the effort. but this once with sunghoon smiling at you and asking how you were, you felt your heart swooning. " 'good, thanks." you looked down, swirling the liquid of your cup around in the cup. "what about..."

"y/n! hey, are you coming?" your friend's voice pierced through your own. it was hard to believe you were looking at your childhood crush who's now even more handsome than when you last saw him — more skilled and finally giving you the attention you once so desperately craved and part of you still does.

as the weeks passed by, you'd learn college was a lot easier than you thought it'd be. you'd made a small group of friends: supportive and comforting.

the few of you would occasionally get together to study at the cafe, allowing you time closer to sunghoon as you two'd indulge in small talk. you must say, highschool you would've been through the roof — not that you weren't already buzzing with excitement. luckily, none of your classes were overwhelmingly difficult. they'd all passed by pretty simply. however, that didn't mean you weren't overwhelmed yourself.

you sat down in the corner of the small campus cafe with your hands buried inside of your hands. the dim and cozy lighting was perfect for studying and taking notes — but it was also making your eyelids feel heavier, stressing you out. "i hate finals..." you groaned, waiting for your drink. "y/n!"

walking up to the counter, sunghoon'd noticed the look of distress on your face. "here's your drink... 'everything alright?" he offered a sympathetic smile while handing you the drink. "finals..." you mumbled, taking a sip of the coffee before sighing yet again. "it's not that i suck at studying... i'm great at it! i'm just nervous and all of these theories are making my head hurt." you really were the same — sunghoon laughed, "i can help you... only if you need it?" just like when you were younger... your eyes lit up, his offer gave you a rush of dopamine. "really? that'd be great... i... i can pay you, and..."

"y/n, relax. it's fine, it won't be the first time i've tutored you," he snorts. "i guess you're right, seriously thank you."

it was endearing, you two were closer than ever — for the first time it felt like he was actually with you. sunghoon worked his shifts in the bustling campus café, finding himself more and more drawn to your presence amidst the sea of students: you soft laughs and beaming smile whenever you felt confident in an answer — with a warm smile and a willingness to help, he offered his assistance whenever you came in to study.

day by day, your shared laughter and easy camaraderie polluted the air as you two grew closer through shared struggles and small victories. it felt as though you'd known each other for a lifetime — really known eachother, not just as neighbors or two different bodies. as you navigated the stress of finals week side by side, you each found solace in each other's company — meeting in the cafe and library, even occasionally your dorm.

you weren't having the best day — busy and slightly overwhelmed. but it was warm, the gentle spring wind prickling your skin as you entered the library. you felt at ease meeting the comforting scent of books and vanilla. but seeing sunghoon only made your heart race yet again — the dimly lit building perfectly illuminated sunghoon's face, stirring so many emotions within you. "hey..." he broke you out of your trance, waving you over with a supple smile — notes already adorning the small desk as e sorted through them. "sorry, i'm late." you replied, pulling out your computer, opening your notes. suddenly, you felt something next to your hand. "what's that?" you asked, eyes still glued to the page in front of you. "your order."

what was he talking about? you looked away and then at him, confused.

"you didn't come to the cafe, so i figured you got busy — brought it to you since i knew we'd be getting together." the drink sat before you, still cold. "oh... thanks, sunghoon." picking it up, you noticed the small note attached to the cups side. "it's okay if you get busy, i just hope you'll keep coming to see me :)" you took a sip, rereading the note in your head and smiling against the lid of the cup. "good?" he asked, "not bad, park." you nudged him, the two of you giggling before beginning work.

that wouldn't be the last time he'd make your heart pace, but little did you know, he felt the exact same.

you two sat at the desk in his dorm, he thought you looked absolutely gorgeous with your hair pulled back, glasses leaning off the tip of your nose. you were so adorable, working so hard with your lips pursed in concentration. "so, i think that..." you trailed off, turning your head to look at him. "sunghoon? is there something on my face?" your hands darted to your cheeks, frantically searching — which only made him chuckle at you antics. "hey," he grabbed your wrist, stopping your panicked motions, "there's noting on your face." you stared into his eyes, you're so pretty... "no?" sunghoon shook his head, "no. but..." his other free hand came reaching towards you, tucking a piece of hair somewhere behind you. "...thanks." you murmured, slightly under your breath not even noticing how close your faces were... sunghoon doesn't know what happened in that moment but it felt right, pecking a chaste kiss on your lips.

and maybe that's how you ended up underneath him? with your glasses far disregarded and your hair messily thrown, huffing as you two's lips met and molded together in yet another embrace. "fuck... y/n, i really like you." all your previous memories fade away into obscurity, one image remains vividly clear: sunghoon — not the person you once resented in your childhood, but the one you've come to love more than ever. the one who notices small things, makes you laughs, and picks you up when your down. "i like you too..."

you two found yourselves drawn to one another, your tongues intricately tying themselves into a knot. with trembling hands, sunghoon gently cupped your face, pulling you closer into him. his knee meeting your core sending a shiver down your spine as you leaned into his embrace with your arms wrapped around his neck.

your lips met in yet another a fervent kiss, a silent symphony of longing as you lost themselves in each other's kiss — time seemed to stand still as you explored each other with an unwavering hunger, moaning into each other’s mouths and pleading for more. your bodies moved in perfect harmony as they sought to get closer and feel every inch of each other's skin: you threw your shirt over your head and onto the floor. “ ‘so pretty, all the time… ‘wanted to kiss you for so long.” his hands pawing the side of your hips. “shit… ‘should’ve done it sooner, hoonie…” you sighed into the plush of his lips watching as he too removed his shirt.

you were eager, feeling his hardened length caressing your clothed clit. "is this what you want, pretty girl? y/n, please tell me what you want..." you nod, feeling his hands embrace your face yet again for another kiss. "use your words..." he huffed, nipping at your bottom lip, "please, sunghoon... i want this so bad."

his hands were sliding down your sides to reach your waistband, tugging your pants off and trailing kisses down your abdomen. his fingers lingered on the small of your skin — softly tracing imaginary inscriptions, leaving a trail of bruising kisses leading to the waist of your underwear:

pulling them aside he stared in awe at your bare cunt, your puffy clit and semislick folds, staring up at you once more, smirking — leaving another kiss above your cute little clit before licking a stripe up your whole cunt. "shit, you taste so sweet, y/n."

his tongue was hot, prodding at your sticky entrance. "f-fuck..." you huffed out, hands tangled in his hair. sunghoon's so soft and intimate — cherishing this moment as his lips graze and carefully suck your clit with his arms wrap around your thighs, nuzzling further into you heat before slipping two of his fingers inside of you. "such a sweet girl... 'sweet cunt too, 'can't ever let you go again..." you nodded you head, feeling the girth of sunghoon's fingers made you whine. "hoon..." you squirmed under him as he lapped your cunt eagerly, fingers pumping and curling in and out of your sopping cunt. "shit!" he was hungry — he's been waiting for this for what feels like an eternity. "so good, y/n... pussy's so good..." he hummed into your warmth, the vibrations sending chills across your whole body. "fuck, i might cum... sunghoon, please!" he was close too: about to cum practically untouched by rutting into the mattress — getting off on your sweet moans.

his tongue lapped your cunt eagerly — and right when you were about to cum, he suddenly stopped. "why'd... fuck, why'd you do that?" trying to catch your breath you look down at him, chin coated in slick and breathy heavy. he hushed you with yet another soft peck on the lips. "s'okay, 'wanted you to cum on my cock... 'sound good, baby?" he asked in a hushed voice. right now, sunghoon wanted nothing more than to give you the world.

you were so pretty with your fluttering cunt and fucked out face. "y-yeah..." you nodded, anticipating the feeling of his length stretching you out. you watched as he pulled down his sweatpants and breifs, his cock springing out. "s'pretty.." you spoke quietly to yourself, admiring his leaking pinky tip and the veins adorning his cock, slightly curved up and to the left. he tugged at it a couple of times before aligning it with your entrance, easily plunging in and kissing your cervix, bottoming out immediately. "shit! so fucking wet... pussy's so warm, y'know that? s'perfect, fuck!" he groaned, babbling to himself about what felt like nothing.

your tight gummy walls swallowed him so well, leaving him speechless. each thrust, he lost himself deeper and deeper inside of your cunt, hitting your g-spot several times, making you flinch. it turned him on so much, seeing that ring of cream around the base of his cock and watching you squirm and moan under him. "fuck, hoonie, feels so good..!"

"shit... i love when you call me hoonie, y/n! s'tight, ah, shit! say it again: my name, call me hoonie, baby."

"hoonie, please... 'think i'm 'gonna cum!" his thrusts grew sloppier — more desperate as he grew closer to spraying your walls a sticky white. "feel me?" his hand applied pressure to your abdomen, his cock bulging out of your tummy. "oh, fuck..."

"yeah, babygirl... 'hoonie's right... here." his hips relentlessly snapped into yours as he firmly held you down. "mpf! sunghoon, i'm 'gonna cum!"

"go ahead, y/n." another kiss, right on the lips. "cum f'me, yeah?" as you felt the knot in your stomach quickly unraveling, you could feel yourself clenching around the girth of sunghoon's cock. you wished you could stay this way forever, bodies firmly pressed against one another in a warm embrace, lips perfectly bonded as you stared into each other's eyes.

the next time you saw sunghoon, was a week after. you'd run into his arms for a tight hug. "hoonie! i passed, i passed my finals!" he picked you up, peppering your face generously with kisses, "i'm so proud of you," and as you looked up into his eyes, you'd remembered everything — good and bad: rejection and fear and a strange curiosity that led to this: everything you'd always wanted. but most importantly you saw him, park sunghoon: the love of your life.

guidelines and disclaimers | took me way too long to write ! i have no fucking idea where this went but hopefully someone likes it a lot 😭

#lil-ma-shae #fem!reader #fanfiction #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #enha hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen #enha #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #enha hyung line #park sunghoon smut #black!reader #poc!reader

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creedslove · 11 months

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FAMILY BLISS 💘

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After dreaming so much about it, Joel finally finds out you are carrying his baby 🥺

(This can be read as a sequence of SLEEP BLISS 💤, SHOWER BLISS 🫧, MOONLIGHT BLISS 🌙, BABY BLISS 🍼 PART ONE AND TWO, CHOCOLATE CAKE BLISS 🎂 AND STORM BLISS ⛈️ or it can be read as a one shot)

Warnings: fluff, just fluff, pregnancy, pregnant reader, dad joel, fluff, fluff, fluff and fluff

A/N: I am back with a Bliss story because I missed Joel so much and it was about time we make this man happy!!! I know he's out of character but whatever, let's keep him happy! 🩷🩷🩷

1.1k words (short and sweet)

Joel's heart skipped a beat and his whole world stopped as he looked down at you, your scared, teary eyes, your voice not louder than a whisper as you had said two simple words.

"I'm pregnant"

Two words that made him feel dizzy and lightheaded for a moment, not being able to wrap his head around the fact you were indeed expecting a child.

He had longed for that, at the same time he dreaded it, all the nights he spent buried deep inside of you, always hoping something would happen as he didn't pull out, but also being terrified that something would happen and that you two would have to face the consequences.

Who mentally fit would actually bring a baby into the apocalypse? Who Would risk going through a pregnancy, labor, postpartum when the world went to hell? But the answer was simple: apparently you and him.

You bit your lips so nervously, anxiety and fear were noticeable at any slight movement, you knew it could happen, it would probably happen, you weren't on birth control, Joel didn't pull out and lately he had been bringing it up the baby talk so many times, you didn't know until what extent he meant it or he was just daydreaming, but the reality hit you hard when you stopped getting your periods, your started feeling nauseous every single morning and suddenly all your jeans seemed tight. He had got you pregnant, and in a matter of months, a baby would come out of you, you were going to be a mom, and Joel would be a dad.

A dad again.

After almost a lifetime, Joel was gifted the opportunity of being a father, of having a child of his own, a child he could love, protect, and take care of. Even if he wasn't young anymore, even if he wasn't a good man anymore, no matter how many times you tried reassuring him, he wouldn't believe you, he was convinced he had become a bad person.

But at the same time, he didn't believe bad people were rewarded good things, so either that meant he wasn't a bad person at all or that he didn't deserve you and the baby. But just as everything about your relationship, he was tired of denying himself a glimpse of happiness, he knew he wasn't worthy of you, and now he wasn't worthy of your baby, but he was selfish and he would keep the two of you to himself no matter what.

He realized you expected something from him, a reaction, a comment, a smile or a frown. It killed you to see him standing still, an awkward silence filling the room.

Joel tried finding words to tell you, but he just couldn't, nothing would come out of his throat, so his hands just gripped your sides, pulling you to him, lifting you up and twirling you around, at the same time you squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

You felt relief when he picked you up, still without saying a word, he kissed you. Your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose and your forehead.

"Our baby" he finally whispered, resting his forehead against yours. His hands had a firm grip around your body, he just wouldn't let go of you, nor your baby, because the three of you were a family now and there was nothing in the world he loved more than that.

He cupped your face with both hands, smiling and kissing you over and over "I love you, Y/N, I love your family" Joel said with a true happiness he hadn't felt in so long in his life.

And over the following months he became the most protective partner in the world. If that was even possible, but he did and god, you couldn't have asked for a better man than Joel to have by your side.

You were always so happy to welcome him home after patrol, always dinner ready for your man as he picked you up, kissed you and then lowered himself to your belly, kissing it and talking to the baby.

You two still didn't know if you were having a little boy or a little girl, but it didn't matter, Joel was so excited he asked his brother to help him build the nursery. They would go with neutral colors and once baby Miller grew up you two could pick up the decoration you thought fit your baby the best.

You were the most beautiful woman to Joel, no one looked as gorgeous as you did, the way your body got curvy with the pregnancy, your breasts looked filled up, it all awakened a hunger in him, he couldn't get enough of you, always touching you and making love to you, because yeah, now Joel also made love to you. It wasn't just fucking, it was also making love, and it felt incredible.

Even when you were already heavily pregnant, feeling huge and unattractive, Joel was still there, to make you feel better and remind you how much he loved you. Your baby was growing strong in your womb and you were so anxious about it all, but every time you looked into his warm, brown eyes, everything was okay again.

He made sure to be by your side through everything, every single moment of your pregnancy, refusing to go on patrols when you reached the final weeks, not risking missing the birth of your beautiful miracle. And when time came and your water broke, he was also there.

Joel was strong, ruthless and fearless, but he could swear you nearly crushed his bones when you held his hand. He watched you in awe as you screamed in pain and pushed as hard as you could in order to give birth to your baby. He could see you were exhausted, sweaty and a little pale, but you looked like a goddess to him. When your baby's first cries were heard in the room, the two of you were taken by such emotion. That tiny little thing placed in your arms was a baby girl.

Joel had a daughter. Again.

He looked at you and then at your beautiful little one, not believing how lucky he got even after everything that happened, how he had a reason to live after all this time he assumed his life had ended.

He didn't even try to hide his emotion, the tears in his eyes as he carefully took the baby into his arms. His beautiful princess just whimpering softly before nuzzling his chest.

You hadn't thought of a name yet, but the new baby Miller was already Joel's whole world and whenever he looked at you, there was nothing he wanted more than make you his wife, even if marriages weren't really a thing in the apocalypse.

_____

A/N: How could you say no to Joel asking you to have his babies???????????

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou show

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lvrdrafts · 9 months

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Rescued by Love Part 4

★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?

★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage

★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Masterlist

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the television as you settled onto the couch, trying to find some distraction from the world outside. The sound of a show's opening theme filled the air, but it was interrupted by the ringing of your phone. You picked it up, seeing Sam's name on the caller ID. Curious and a bit surprised, you answered, your voice a mix of confusion and warmth. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey, I... I just wanted to call and say I'm sorry for your loss," Sam's voice carried a gentle tone, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

Your brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Loss? Sam, what are you talking about?"

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end of the line, and then Sam spoke softly. "Your father's passing. I know it might be overwhelming, and I wanted to reach out."

Your heart seemed to skip a beat, the words not quite sinking in. "Wait, my father... passed away?"

There was a pause, and then Sam replied, his voice understanding. "Yeah, the funeral is tomorrow. I can't tell if your messing with me right now or not"

The shock and disbelief coursed through you as you tried to process what Sam was saying. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "I... I didn't know."

Sam's voice held empathy, and he responded gently, "Wait- actually?"

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat. "No, Sam, I had no idea. Bucky, he went on a business trip for a month, and I've been... I haven't been allowed to leave the house."

There was a somber pause on the other end, and then Sam said "What-what do you mean Bucky's not with you? He's here right now, with Steve, making arrangements for the funeral."

The weight of the situation bore down on you, the reality of your isolation and the secrets that had been kept from you leaving you feeling even more adrift. Your tears began to flow freely, and you managed to stammer, "I... I have to go, Sam."

"Take care," Sam's voice was soft, filled with understanding.

As you ended the call, your heart felt heavy, and the weight of the situation seemed almost suffocating. Alone in the dimly lit room, you leaned forward, your face in your hands, allowing your tears to flow. The television's flickering light seemed distant and inconsequential compared to the storm of emotions that raged within you.

After a few moments of collecting yourself, you reached for your phone again. There was one person who might be able to guide you through this tumultuous time – Matt Murdock.

"Hello?" Matt's voice came through the line, a calm and steady presence on the other end.

"Hey, Matt. It's me," you greeted, your voice carrying a mix of weariness and determination.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd call. How can I help you?" Matt's tone was empathetic, as if he could sense the weight of your burdens.

Your heart felt heavy, the desire for liberation clashing with the reality of your circumstances. "I... I need your help with something big. My father passed away, and I've been isolated at home. Bucky hired bodyguards who won't let me leave. And now I want to divorce him."

A thoughtful silence hung in the air for a moment before Matt spoke, his voice filled with understanding. "I'm sorry to hear about your father. And as for the divorce, that's a significant step. I can definitely assist you. We'll need to navigate the legal aspects, especially given your current situation."

Relief washed over you as you realized you weren't alone in this daunting journey. "Thank you, Matt. I really appreciate it. I... I want to regain control over my life."

Two days passed in a mix of tension and anticipation. The weight of your impending actions sat heavy on your shoulders as you waited for Bucky's return from his supposed business trip. The isolation that had cloaked you seemed to grow even more suffocating, the silence of the empty house echoing your thoughts.

Then, the door finally swung open, and Bucky stepped inside, his presence a blend of weariness and something you couldn't quite place. Steve trailed behind him, his features etched with a mix of determination and cold detachment. The air seemed charged with unspoken words as they both entered the room, their gazes meeting yours.

"Bucky," you greeted him, your voice carrying a mix of emotions – frustration, sadness, and something else that had been building within you.

He looked at you, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes before being replaced by a guarded expression. "Hey."

Steve's gaze remained fixed on you, a coldness that seemed to permeate the air between you all. It was as if the unspoken truths that had been kept hidden for far too long were about to surface, ready to shatter the fragile semblance of family.

"You're back," you stated, your tone tinged with an edge that betrayed the turmoil within you.

Bucky's jaw clenched, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away. "Yeah. Business trip was... intense."

You took a deep breath, a surge of courage propelling you forward. "Bucky, I know."

His gaze snapped back to yours, a flicker of surprise mingling with caution. "What do you mean?"

"The funeral. I know about it," you stated firmly, refusing to back down.

Bucky's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as if calculating his next move. "How...?"

"Sam called," you said, your voice steady. "He told me about Dad's passing. And about the funeral that both of you conveniently forgot to inform me about."

A heavy silence settled in the room, the tension palpable. Steve's cold demeanor remained unbroken, his gaze like ice as he observed the exchange.

"I didn't want you to have to deal with it," Bucky finally spoke, his voice tinged with sympathy.

You scoffed, a bitter chuckle escaping you. "So, you decided I didn't deserve to know, right? Just like everything else?"

Bucky's brows furrowed, his expression a mixture of frustration and guilt. "It's not like that. Please I don't want to see your hurt, its fucked up but you mean-"

"Isn't it ironic you don't wanna see me hurt yet you hurt me all the time?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "You've controlled my life, kept me isolated, and now you're making decisions about my own family without even telling me."

Steve's cold voice cut through the tension like a blade. "You're better off not knowing, Y/N."

His words ignited a fire within you, fueled by years of resentment and the determination to reclaim your agency. "No, Steve. I'm done being kept in the dark. I'm done being treated like a pawn in your twisted game. I'm getting a divorce you piece of shit"

"You better not," he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper as he took a step toward you, his fingers reaching for your arms with an intent that sent shivers down your spine.

Fear clamped its icy grip around your heart for a moment, paralyzing you. The shadow of past trauma loomed, threatening to engulf you once again. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as Steve's fingers tightened on your arms, his grip threatening to crush your spirit as it had for years.

Before the fear could completely consume you, a flash of movement caught your attention. Bucky, faster than you could anticipate, stepped between you and Steve, his stance protective. His strong arm shot out, intercepting Steve's grasp, and with a force that surprised you, he pushed Steve back making him hit the wall and fall on the floor.

"Steve, go this is between my wife and I not you" Bucky says coldly and Steve walks away with blood dripping down his nose. "Lets talk" Bucky says with a cold expression but past that you see a flicker of pain.

@cjand10 @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @hereticdance @kentokaze @bruher @tupperwarefullofdirt @unaxv @learisa @emerald-writes @aya-fay @stinkerbelle007 @scifinerd1818 @paarthurnax59 @vickie5446 @almosttoopizza @kandis-mom

#bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #mob bucky x wife reader angst #mob bucky x reader angst #james barnes x reader #james barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #steve rodgers sister reader x bucky #mob steve x reader #winter soldier x reader #angst x reader #mob bucky au

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 8 months

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Spiderman Society and Manipulation Part 1

Okay! I had been wanting to do this post for a while, while I don't think we can flat out call the Spiderman Society a cult, the reality is that the more you look at it, the more twisted and crazy the spider society becomes.

I had seen a lot of people complain about the spiders in the society (specially on Gwen,) of how they could let this happen and how could actually believe is a good idea to let people die. And I don't think a lot of these people realize that the organization is operating in a way that is made to manipulate people, and things are far more complicated that what you may realize.

I would estate now that a lot of the things that fall under Cult behaviours are kind of inevitable by the nature of the organization.

I also want to emphasize that I DON'T THINK MIGUEL IS EVIL, or is even aware of the damage he is doing by the way he is running this operation. I truly believe there is no one who believes more in this than him, and all he does is for the common good.

And he is so focused on that goal he doesn't realize the damage he is doing.

WARNING: The following discussion will involve talking about Cults, psychological manipulation, controlling behaviours and such. If you think these topics may be a trigger for you, please consider skipping this.

Levels of Information

It hasn't been flat out say, but you can see in the movie that there are levels to the amount of information each Spider has on the organization.

Pavitr is aware that the Spider's society duty is to stop villains and beings from other dimensions from breaking havoc; these people ended up there by accident and need to be contained and sent to their respective universes.

However, he also says "I can do both," meaning that he has to be unaware about living in a canon event, and most probably, the existence of canon events.

Hobie also, seems to be in a somewhat of an intermediate level.

Here, Hobie says how he actually doesn't have much of an idea of what's going on with the organization.

However, he does appear to know more than Pav and Miles.

Here Hobie confirms that he knows that Miles is an anomaly. At least that's the impression he gave me considering the circumstances.

Now, we need to balance a few possibilities here.

Hobie being aware of anomalies but not canon events isn't exactly the weirdest concept; anomalies are entities from another universes coming in, which is of course, not suppose to be normal occurrence in any universe. Miles being bitten by a spider from another dimension would make him an anomaly just for that alone.

Hobie didn't seem particularly surprised when the canon events conversation came up, but I can buy that 1) He knows how to hide his emotions well, which would make sense if his universe is anything similar to what it is in his comics, 2) He may had suspected something like this was going on with the information he has at hand.

This also makes sense with his character, because I am sorry but I really cannot believe Hobie knew Pav was going to go through something traumatic, and would just let Pavitr suffer. ESPECIALLY for something Miguel says.

There is the possibility that he knows about anomalies from Gwen and not the organization itself, this would track considering he has admitted that the only reason he has been hanging around is because he wants to look after Gwen; and probably Pavitr too. He seems to be the type of person who looks after more vulnerable, young people. Which is pretty punk of him.

I could also believe Gwen at least telling Hobie about anomalies, because they are close friends (FRIENDS, look I like this ghostpunk and other ships because I am like that, but in the movie is obvious Hobie just seems Gwen as a friend. Again, don't bother shippers.) And because Gwen would obviously be upset about not being able to visit Miles, and venting to Hobie (who for sure would not rat her to Miguel, and would understand her situation.) As well as explaining the reasoning of the situation.

Why would she explain that? Well, because she needs to justify this still making sense, being the good guys.

Remember, Gwen ended here not just because she wanted to be with other spiders, but because she thought her home wasn't safe anymore. She needs to justify this being worth it because she is a traumatized teen with not a lot of support and is trying to cope with it until the reality exploits her in the face.

But probably that's a conversation that is better for another day.

I don't think people are realize how absolutely TRUE this rings for Cults.

Independently if this is a religious or other type of cult (because yes, not all of them are religious;) something that tends to happen is that there are levels to what people know; and the longer and more loyal you are to a cult, the more they let you in.

In fact, the loyalty thing is sometimes more important than time; if they see you are committed enough to one level, they may let you in the next bit of information.

This is because most cults start trying to say pretty reasonably things, a lot of them involved the common good and the possibility of a better life; and then the more they convince you to some ideas, the more they let you in the crazy stuff that is actually underneath. And this is on purpose, because a lot of people wouldn't had stayed too long if they knew the bat shit crazy information from the get go.

So they intentionally manipulated you into thinking their side of things first, and then they try to become your new support network and community.

You wouldn't believe an stranger, but your new family, or I don't know, new organization, who welcomes you in when you have nowhere to go, and offer to guide you in a way you desperately wanted help but never had the chance- Why you wouldn't believe them?

Well, I am getting ahead of myself.

This is how you get cults like Scientology, where at first people only had a vague idea of what was going on, until some people got in deep enough to extract some information and reveal to the world how nuts a lot of this sounds.

Preying on those facing difficult times

I will probably had someone mad at me because this title and choosing this particular screenshoot can feel a bit like a reach, but hear me out.

Yes, I understand that neither Miguel nor Jess had bad intentions when they ask her to join, in fact Jess seemed fully worried about Gwen because she had no one.

But again, Jess and Miguel aren't in this to manipulate people for their evil schemes, they fully believe all of the philosophies they are preaching.

While Gwen's case is the most extreme (that we are aware of at least,) this really rings my alarm bells WAY too much if you ask me.

Because of things like this:

Say what you want about the commitment Miguel has with his mission, I am not saying saving the multiverse isn't important (though it would help if Miguel had bothered to double check his theory,) but if you talk to someone who has lived in an abusive household, ask exactly what it did for their mental health being afraid of fucking up because they may get you kick out.

(It's figurative speech, if you have the chance learn about it but don't ask anyone who isn't comfortable talking about the subject.)

Let me tell you something; living afraid of what would happen to you just for existing is not a walk in the park, and while I don't think Gwen is truly walking on eggshells with Miguel; it cannot be easy knowing in the back of your mind that if you mess up badly enough, you will end up in a place where you may risk ending in prison, being homeless, or that your mere presence may make someone you love die.

(After all, technically; ASM-90 can't happen if Spider-Gwen isn't there to fight anyone, right? Yeah I wonder what exactly Miguel would had done about that.)

You saw the amount of spider-people this society has, you also know how spider-man stories work; no freaking way Gwen is the only one in this situation. Maybe Gwen is the one who's situation is most at stake considering Miguel was already wary of her for her relationship with Miles; however I can't imagine that if let's say, a spider doesn't want to go along with a canon event, they wouldn't let them stay.

"But OP! Miguel is just trying to be practical, you can't pretend he let people stay if they are putting in risk the mission."

Yeah here is what I have to say to that: Is absolutely horrible to let this scenario exist in the first place.

There is plenty of resources here; the Spider Society HQ has a weird architecture that couldn't had been cheap, all because is made for spider-people in mind. The place is HUGE, he is on the surface world (because unless I see evidence of otherwise, I bet my laptop that the underworld city is where crime and people without too many resources need to go, for not being able to afford the surface.) Not to mention all the technology they have should open to more possibilities, right? If not health wise (Miguel's world is probably more medically advanced that the ones of many other spiders, for example.)

There is no way, resources couldn't be use to help other spiders. I say it before, I find ludicrous that Jess, Miguel or someone else couldn't talk some sense into Captain Stacy. Or that someone could be supporting Gwen better in an emotional sense, because that poor teen needs some type of parental figure in her life and none of them have interest in it. Which again, is fine, but if you know there is this issue, as an adult who decided to take this teen, you should find someone willing to do it!

I do not give a shit that they are super heroes, is plain as day that Gwen has issues, and is looking for someone older and wiser to be there for her; I am not saying Jess should had done it because I can't blame her for not wanting that role, but if you can't do it and for some reason can't talk some sense into his dad, find someone!

Yes, there is a psych spider-man, but that is clearly not doing enough. Heck I wouldn't be surprised if the guy wasn't even good (like I get that he is a spidey and that he hears these stuff constantly, but imagine telling something that is traumatic to you, and your psych can't give less of a shit or even be sensible about the subject.)

They have these people in a choke hold, either obey, or you would get kicked out to horrible conditions.

I had been reading a few comics; Gwen's world SUCKS, if her world is half as bad as it is in the comics, I wouldn't want her going back, period. Peni also has some horrible circumstances; (her situation is better in the after school saga, but still.) I can't imagine how many others are in this exact boat.

Because is not just that this place is providing a safe heaven for Spiders, is also a community.

Spider-people tend to be lonely, a lot of them are in worlds where they are the only super hero, keeping this a secret for the safety of their love ones.

So you are telling these people who are normally abused in some way or another, who suffer from the loneliness of this job; that unless they behave and obey, they will lose the only community where they can be themselves, where they can ask for help, or have a place to rest.

And I can already see people typing angrily about the multiverse and it's well being, and let me put it this way: In the real world, if an organization (not just a company, but charities and such,) ends up having a work space that puts an unnecessary level of stress and fear for the people in it; wouldn't you be mad about it?

So why exactly I shouldn't want Miguel, someone that should be a good guy, care for the people that he has under his command? Wouldn't make sense that the people that need to take care of the multiverse are doing mentally well, considering that putting that type of strain in someone can also affect how they do their job effectively?

"But Miguel is not thinking about those things, he is focused to the cause! He just has his priorities, and wants his subordinates to understand how important is this too."

Hmm. So what I am hearing is that Miguel wants everyone to be ready to let whoever is necessary die, if not kill (because you cannot tell me Miguel "I don't always like what I have to do." O' Hara hasn't done it.) And leave everything behind for the cause, no feelings involved; and wants teens and young people who had no business being this pressured to do it as well.

Yeah this is not the argument you think it is. There is enough money, resources and people that there is no way this couldn't be run better, but is not.

But I feel I had gone long enough without bringing other sources into the table; so let's start with that shall we?

Understanding Cults: The Basics - Psychology Today

Isn't an interesting coincidence how this fits EXACTLY what happened to Gwen, to a T?

Is approached to, not even shown interested in joining on her own. Look at that screenshot from earlier, Gwen says "I don't know how to fix this," she wants to fix THIS, the things with her dad, to make her situation less messy.

She doesn't know what she is getting into, she doesn't even know that she will not be able to visit Miles yet. Much less canon and all that jazz.

Think about it for a second, Miguel sees a teen who has her own dad try to SHOOT HER, and what he sees is "well, another recruit." Tell me that it isn't a bit fucked up.

You could try to argue that Miguel offered his place so she could have a shelter, except that no, that's not what happens.

This happens after her dad already tried to shoot her, he may had stopped it, but he wasn't interested in recruiting her, not even after Jess is trying to convince him to let her in.

You know what happens? She says "I don't know how to fix this."

That's the catalyst.

I thought of finding a way to explain how, but honestly someone did a MUCH better job than me already.

Miguel's DESTRUCTIVE Idea of "SPIDER-MAN"

If anyone is bothered by me not leaving the explanation behind Miguel's reasoning, is because this conversation isn't about Miguel's mental health and reasoning. Because that's not excuse for this mess regardless.

The point is: Miguel wants people to help him fix this mess, and even if the logical conclusion here would be helping her out with her situation rather than just include her into this mess; Miguel isn't thinking about that.

I will not say is malicious in any way, heck he may think he is doing her a favour like this, but that's another problem, not an excuse. He is so focused on his goal that he leaves behind the well-being of his subordinates.

Which is a problem, by any measure you want to give it.

Let's go back to the sources shall we?

With this at hand, let's review

Do they enlist people without giving the entire story of what's is going on and deceptive ideas? Yes.

Because they enlist people saying they need them to help save more people and the universe, WITHOUT mentioning that some of YOUR love ones need to die.

I feel on this angle, I had already mentioned enough in the rest of the post.

It is authoritarian, with a leader that is controlling? Well what if we see the evidence?

Look how many angles he has here, is not even all of them, there was another with Gwen in another shot. I am not sure what type of camera or device he is using for this, but wouldn't you find it disturbing if your boss had THIS amount of footage of you while walking on your company?

It gets worse.

He is spying them in their downtime.

You could make the argument he had the right to watch over Gwen because she was technically on duty at that moment (it doesn't make it less creepy and honestly unless you are like a cop, I can't imagine too many jobs where is a good idea to have something record what you do at any moment.)

Except that you can see in the superior corner, that he has a video of Hobie playing; he doesn't have his mask so this is clearly not a mission. He is spying on people even OFF the clock.

Do any of you seriously think is a coincidence he did this with Gwen and Hobie, the "problematic" spideys?

Do you think Gwen and Hobie even know to the degree they are being watched?

(Sidenote, Miguel apparently has been looking over Hobie, yet seems unaware that he is making his own watches apparently, and maybe to which extend he steals. Hobie is so smart he fooled Miguel just like that. Another reason why Hobie is the best.)

You know something that bothers me about this? Is why is Gwen asking this?

Gwen is supposedly in the loop, she knows about canon, she knows about the ASM-90, but she is asking this, as if she hasn't been given that hard proof either.

Which goes back to the lack of transparency, but for this part of the discussion, the important thing is what Miguel does next.

Doesn't answer her question, menacingly towers over her until she almost falls back, and then kicks her out.

Do you notice the interesting part about this? He wasn't planning to sent her home, until she QUESTIONED his logic.

It wasn't about she going to see Miles, it wasn't about messing up with the spot; if it was about that he would had decided to get rid of her earlier, even the second she spoke her mind would had justified it, making it remember she was there.

Yet is not until she asks that, that suddenly Miguel decides this is enough.

Wouldn't you call that authoritative?

Let's go to the next part, the disrupt of personality; because maybe you think that's definitely not the case. Well...

You may read this and not think too much about it, but again, when you had been looking into cults and similar stuff before, this starts siren bells in your head as if he was talking about a doomsday.

Miguel is emphasizing how being Spider-man involves sacrifice, it involves pain and losing love ones. And you need to be okay with that.

You can see with Miguel that he prioritizes the job above everything else, he says that much himself really. And he expects everyone else to prioritize it too.

Sure, Peter is a loving father with clearly time for his daughter, Jess is pregnant; but you cannot tell me that if a canon event involved Peter losing his daughter, or Jess losing her kid; Miguel would say something different.

He expects people to follow canon events no matter how painful it is, and his justification for it is that it is part of the job that you signed for, so you need to be okay with this.

Because being a spider-person and the job should be above all else, don't you think that involves forcing an identity onto you so you obey better? Because you are first spider-woman over being Gwen Stacy, for example?

Tell me how much of this applies to the Spider Society, because for what I had gathered? None of this is allowed.

People aren't allowed to interact with who they want (like Gwen being obviously forbidden of seeing Miles,) if you question the leadership you may be kicked out; not complete information until you had proven trustworthy or there is no other choice.

And something interesting about all of this, is that is technically not just preying on the people with difficult circumstances like Gwen, though that is bad enough. But funnily enough...this all also uses the trauma and guilt of its eldest members to justify their actions.

BUT, I think that would go better with a part 2! I feel the topic while part of this discussion, deserves it's own post, specially since I will talk a bit about why I think Miguel believes so far in this theory, even if the evidence shows is flawed.

Look, I really, REALLY, don't want to call the Spider Society a cult; I don't even think the writers had that in mind when they did this; they just wanted to show that Miguel was flawed.

And is for sure, not as bad as other things that I had seen, things that had happened in real life.

However, this isn't a good look, this organization checks way too many boxes, enough to effectively give psychological damage; I can assure if this wasn't a super hero movie Gwen and other people will have to go through therapy for this. Heck even if this trilogy has a happy ending I wouldn't be surprised if the people need some psychological help once they realize they did horrible shit for nothing.

I feel there is another things, minor details that could qualify, but those feels almost nitpicky and inconsequential compared to the rest, and what some of what is left..

I don't think I need to give more reasons anyways; the Spider Society is harmful to their people, feel free to think otherwise but I cannot see an operation with this many red flags and not call it how I see it.

I don't know what's worse, this, or the fact that is not the worse thing I think Miguel has done.

But that's everything for now! Hope you guys like it, and if you have the chance, please donate on my ko-fi or share this post!

#atsv files #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o' hara #spider society #gwen stacy #jessica drew #hobie brown #miles morales

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rinbowaman · 8 days

Note

Hi hi 🤗

A heethan ask here!

Heethan's reaction to yn being insecure cause she has a babyish face and her cheeks are slightly chubby ( cause irl also am insecure about my chubby cheeks 😭)

“Baby Face.”

Im sorry it took me so long to get this out. As requested, heethan x reader with chubby cheeks. Enjoy!

Warnings: fluffiest of fluff (not really but it is fluffy), m insecurities, self esteem issues. A very subtle hint of smut breaching. Think that’s it.

“Pretty baby, what are you doing?” He raises a brow and parks the side of his body against the inner door panel. Watching you through the bathroom mirror, he stands behind with his arms crossed and observes you pinching your cheeks. He peeks from under the bill of his cap as he develops a concerning look. “Why are you messing with your face like that?”

“My cheeks are so chubby.” You sigh out in defeat. “I look like a chipmunk, they don’t make me feel attractive. I’m like a baby.”

He shifts his eyes to the ground as he remains propped against the door frame, the muscles on his forearms twitch as he tightens the overlapped cross against his chest. The bill of his hat covers his eyes entirely as he shifts his head. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true.”

“Hey…” he walks and closes the distance from behind, taking a piece of your hair and rubs it between his fingers. He remains there, standing behind, appearing enormously tall in contrast to your height. “You’re pretty, cute, and beautiful. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You appreciated his words, but it didn’t seem enough as each time you looked in the mirror, you found yourself in the harrowing reality at the amount of fat that was contained in your facial features. You wondered what could he possibly see in you? The chubbiness gave you a jolly appearance, but to see beauty within it was hard. At least for you.

“I’m gonna put on a movie, any requests?” He kisses the back of your head and walks out of the bathroom, leaving you to stand in front of the mirror lonesomely. How could he treat this so lightly? Can’t he see that this was something that affected your self-esteem? Everyday when you brushed your teeth or washed your hands, there was this constant reminder of the babyish expression that stared right back at you.

“Yyyyyyyyy/nnnnn?” He drags out your name as he awaits for a response. You delayed once more and continue to rub your face. He reappears behind your body, eyeing you down through the mirror. “Come here. Now.”

His tone was stern and you knew better than to delay any further. Your heart skips a beat as you regret your actions, realizing you had just caused him to grow irritated. “Heeseung I’m sorry-“

“Come sit down next to me.” He cuts you off and pats the bedding next to him, his eyes glued to a few magazines in his hand. You cuddle against him as he puts an arm around your shoulder. The first magazine he presents to you, was a Vogue copy published in the mid 1980’s. “What’s this for?” You asked him confused.

“These are some magazines that Vicky and my other exes left behind in my car and room. I’ve meant to the throw them away but always forgot to.” He thumbs through the pages and pauses on the centerfold before handing it to you. “Maybe it’s good that I didn’t, because these are going to help me in teaching you a valued lesson.”

You focus in on the center spread and see a supermodel donning a slick black dress with a large hat. Her face looked hollow as the height of her cheekbones stand prominent and sharp. She was beautiful with her naturally contoured and defined features. “She’s pretty.”

“Yeah, she is. All of them in that era were. Girls like her were sought out for having those features, they were considered the most desirable women on the planet.”

Great. This was no help. You just told him about how you were insecure about your cheeks and here he is, showing you women that have the most desired features, a complete contrast from how you’re built. Before you could issue a response in dismay, he hands you a different Vogue edition from the early 2000’s.

You flip through the pages and settle on a photo of a different model, one that had a smaller face, slightly contoured but nowhere near as sharp or defined as the last one. She had short platinum blonde hair, and even had random piercings on her face with thin, high brows.

“She’s not as pretty as the other model but she still has a better face than me.”

He chuckles as he pulls you by your chin and rests you against his chest. “Listen. This model was the ‘it-girl’ twenty years ago. Everyone wanted to be her.”

He takes the third magazine and shows you a random page of another girl. The magazine was also Vogue, published just months ago. The pages featured a myriad of idols of K-pop, all containing a similar feature of an extremely youthful appearance and full cheeks, similar to yours.

Some had less, while some had more, either way, you felt somewhat comforted as he spoke.

“Look familiar?” He chuckles, the bobbing of his chest matched your small giggles. “These are considered rhetorical most popular and beautiful women of the world. Girls want to look like them, and men want to be with them.”

Your eyes drift down as you started to piece together the message he was relaying. “Point is pretty, beauty within features change every decade…might even be every year. One day, people want to look like Angelina Jolie, and the next, they want to look like Jennie or Lalisa.”

You nod your head as you sink into his body. He leans back against the headboard and brings you down with him. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ll always be in style and the most desirable. I’ll never get tired of looking into your pretty eyes, playing with your sexy hair, touching your soft skin, and best of all—staring at your adorable baby face.”

Immediately following his words, he smacks a prolonged kiss against the bubbled fat of your right cheek. “Mmmmmmmuah! My baby face! God, what I wouldn’t do to show just how much I adore you.”

He really didn’t have to do much to show you. From the moment he laid eyes on you, he did everything to let you know just how much he loved and yearned for you. Even though you may not be entirely too fond of your cheeks, or whatever it is that bugs you about yourself, at the end of the day it really didn’t matter. You are a winner. You win because you had a man who truly treasured and keeps you all to himself; who prefers you without loads of makeup, and likes to see you with nothing on at all versus fully clothed. He loves you the way you are.

“You gonna use that baby face and show me how much you love me?” His voice creeps into your ear in a deep tone as you hear and watch his hand unzips his jeans. You chuckle.

“Yes. I think I can do that for you.”

💜

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung #lee heeseung smut #heeseung au #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines #enhypen heeseung #yandere heeseung #yandere enhypen #yandere enha

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ladybelladonna76 · 2 months

Text

Rachel didn't know what her stepdad saw in that stupid girl he was dating

She was obviously hot, but she was also bitchy, vain, and materialistic

Unsurprisingly he'd met this goldigger shortly after the medical negligence payout from her mother's accidental death, at the hands of a drunk quack doctor, when Daddy had been looking for some comfort at the bottom of a whiskey glass in questionable bars

"We're going to have so much fun, Daddy says we can spend whatever we want today, I have permission to spoil us both rotten"

Rachel rolled her eyes

"Let's just get this over and done with"

"Okay Rachey, I promise you're going to love it, this salon works miracles, then we go shopping!", Rosie squealed as she said shopping like some over excited middle school girl on a carnival ride

"Whatever, I'm doing this because DAD asked me too that's all, after the salon you can drop me off home before going out shopping"

"Okay meanie" Rosie pouted

Inside the salon it was as bad as Rachel had feared. This was just a grooming kennel for over primped high maintenance bitches, she couldn't think of one treatment she wanted to try.

"Please try the New U facial treatment Rachey" Rosie whined in her bimbo voice for the hundredth time

"Fine if you'll shut up, at least I get to lay down and relax"

She laid back and the beautician put the mask over her face

The mask started to emit a pulsing wave of light

It feels wrong, invasive, it hurts

She tried to sit up but couldn't move

Her brain felt like it was aflame as the light seemed to penetrate her skull

Suddenly words and concepts started to run through Rachel's head.

Bitch, cuckold, homewrecker, conniving, golddigger, manipulative

Every word brought a flood of images and memories of Rachel as the living embodiment of these words

Rachel knew she wasn't, there was no way she could be, she had never, would never do any of those things, her mom and dad raised her with a strong sense of right and wrong and everything she saw herself doing was wrong.

Rachel could sense new color behind her eyelids even though her eyes were closed tight

More information washed over her, new feelings and ideas.

She had secretly coveted her Step Daddy for years after her mom had married him. No he was always her Daddy, no my Dad, wasn't he?

I'd fucked that gold digging bitch's plastic surgeon behind her back, mommy dearest was fucking him to get a discount so he was fair game.

That's how I got him addicted to drugs and me, I got him drunk, high, and fucked him all night before the day of the surgery. I'd made him botch the surgery

Rachel screamed inside the mask, that's not me I wouldn't, I couldn't, I love my Mommy

Rachel felt her body starting to alter as the new light worked it's magic

She started to groan inside the mask as she felt her body staring to firm and tone, her breasts grew as implants formed inside them, her lips plumped, her nails lengthened into beautiful manicured claws.

Daddy loved her body so much better than her mom's pathetic..

"Oh my God, mom I'm sorry this isn't me, this isn't what I wanted!!"

Rachel removed the mask and looked around for her stepmom

Where was she?

"There's only us Raquel", she thought

This didn't make any sense

"We were always jealous of Mommy since middle school, all her boy toys, her clothes, cars, vacations, we just had to bide our time until we were all grown up and then he could be ours"

He?

Daddy?

Was Daddy hers now alone?

Ever nerve in her body fired in unison at this realization as an orgasm swept through her body

Of course New U Salon's machines didn't really work miracles they only used a cutting edge application of Quantum Mechanics.

They did however merge Rachel and her stepmom's quantum realities

A little tweak here and there, so the Quantum realm remained while and all was perfect with the world again

Another happy customer with guaranteed repeat business and referrals to boot

Rachel was very satisfied

Raquel skipped shopping that day and rushed home to her Daddy

She'd wanted him since he'd first walked into her life with her bitch mother

She spent years preparing for when they could be together. Years studying her mother's manipulation techniques, daily exercise at the gym to sculpt her body into a temple to be worshiped, style to dress in a manner befitting a goddess, oh and sex, how she'd perfected the art of love making and giving, she'd become such a slut.

All to be ready for her Daddy and now he was hers, she'd never give him up

New U Salon really was miraculous

#f2f #bitchification #transformation #corruption

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starryficsfinishwen · 4 months

Text

✧。◟[NSFW] ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴅᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ — lee x reader [PGR]

so I'm coming home to you

synopsis ; there are answers far beyond words in between turbulences. you are looking for those in lee's battles, in the way he sat beside you, yet what can you say, when the ride home is silent?

alternatively: starry was unsatisfied because we never knew what happened after the epilogue and got a time skip instead, so she is writing it down on her terms LOL

a.n. - this idea came to me while I was cooking breakfast. I nearly dropped the bowl. I nearly dropped my eggs 😭 also I wanna suggest listening to fallingforyou by The 1975 for this too if yall wanna. I wanted this to be an angst to fluff but I decided to make it in a separate post LOL ALSO I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS EARLIER AHAHAHA I'm sorri oh well

pairing - lee hyperreal x f!commandant

words - 7,691

warnings - WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 21: SPIRAL OF CHRONOS. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, NSFW THEMES: soft sex hehe, body worship, cunnilingus, creampie-, vaginal penetration, squirting, virginity loss but it's the both of them LOL, lee being so soft and gentle. semi-established relationship, mutual pining.

edit - dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

The ride home is silent.

A gentle lull of a torrential downpour, multiple raindrops pattering on the aircraft's window. Apart from the tired snores and occasional groaning of both constructs and commandants, you are certain: everyone on the aircraft was alive. Miraculously, even if the chances of being so were as small as a pea.

A sharp pain in your mind knocks on your head. Ah, right. Although the realization finally hits you, the piercing pain in your head has yet to dull, after all of the events that unfolded. You wondered, how lucky you were to be alive, despite connecting with so many constructs, all the while maintaining a deep M.I.N.D. connection with Lee. Perhaps, the gods listened to your selfish plea.

After all, Lee came back alive. And he is sitting, silently beside you.

Arms crossed as he leaned on the chair you both sat in, his frame never leaving a hint of space between you. His mesmerizing cerulean eyes were hidden, eyes closed as he breathed so softly.

It's the first time you've seen Lee's frame up close. The first time as a hologram, the second after he emerged from the tower. And now, one glance away.

His hair was a lighter shade of blonde, long bangs covering up until his eyes. Face more defined, looking more mature, yet still so youthful. There weren't any scars on Lee's face anymore, unlike his Entropy frame. Despite his cold and neutral face, as he slept, you can't help but notice that he looked more gentle, softer. Your hand reached out carefully trying not to disturb his sleep, fingers lightly tracing from the top of his head, to the side of his face, to his lips— a thought passed your mind, but you shook your head instead.

As you pulled away, Lee's hand grabbed yours.

“You are shaking,” a whisper that tickled your ear brought you back to reality, “are you alright, my Commandant?”

My Commandant. He only called you that in a fierce, stoic tone. But now, his voice is so tranquil, you might have mistaken it as a phantom. A ripple rumbles through your chest. Lee's voice, although you've heard it so many times, never failed to make you shake, never failed to make you sigh of relief. Unlike his Entropy and Palefire frames, what changed? His new frame is gentler, softer, too. Grasping the warm blanket wrapped around you, you felt Lee lean closer to you. You looked back at him, finding a worried expression across his face.

A face you've seen for the first time, should have made you afraid. Yet, the new face is looking at you, the same way he used to. A sense of familiarity, a sense of comfort.

“I'm okay,” you admitted, “Please don't worry.”

The windows were tinted dark, a few shimmering stars outside. In the dim light of the evening haze, cerulean eyes looked down on you, calculating and quiet. “Is there something wrong? You seem distressed.”

Apart from all the events that conspired earlier, it's probably safe to say that you were far from okay. But you still held onto your words, “Nothing. I just...wanted to see you up close.”

Sturdy, mechanical arms wrapped themselves around your frail, tired body. The gesture made you sink into Lee's chest, a new wave of comfort entangling itself on both of your bodies. Yes, this was— and still is— the man you liked for a long time. And this was the same space you've always loved to drown in, away from the cold, war-struck world.

“Wasn't it you who told me not to shoulder everything,” Lee chuckled, “You can tell me the truth, my Commandant. I am here to bear it all with you.”

His words made you snort. “Oh, now you take my words?”

“I remember everything you say, orders and everything.”

The turbulence seemed to hit a little harder, as Lee held you tighter in his embrace. You found yourself nestled in his lap eventually, cradled like a child in your teammate's arms. You still looked at Lee, searching for something. Two awake individuals now converse in hushed tones.

“You're making me quite nervous, Commandant.” Lee spoke as you continued to stare at him.

“I still can't believe that you are here.” You childishly poked his puffed cheeks, “Are you sure you're real?”

Ah, there he is. His usual stoic expression as he looked at you nonchalantly. But they were quickly replaced with a warm smile, eyes softening at your antics. “My Commandant, I believe that we are still connected right now. Do you wish to check it?”

As far as you were concerned, what Lee said is true; the connection with him is still a brightly burning flame, signaling its closeness with you right now. Yet, as you continue to gaze at your teammate, who was looking elsewhere, another realization dawned on you. Reaching out to touch his neck, his shoulders, his metallic chest— all hardened, like a cyborg. But you can still feel it, in your fingertips, his heartbeat reflecting yours, a cadenza of fluttering butterflies.

“Commandant,” Lee took your shivering hand, looking at you as he brought the back of it to his lips, “I'm here, okay? I'm back. I'm holding you like this.”

He is. As you gazed at his face, the whims of today that brought cold demons do not sway so easily, your heart crumbling once more— the fear that gnawed you left and right back when you were at the foot of the impenetrable tower, helpless in front of bloodlusted monsters. The thought of earlier when blood spilled your hands came back to haunt you: an unprecedented future where Lee did not emerge from the tower, a grim call for humanity...what did it look like?

“Hearing you say that,” your voice cracked, a fresh wave of tears now threatening to spill from your tired eyes, “brings me so much comfort, Lee.”

How ironic. A few hours ago, you bravely put on your facade, welcoming Lee back when he emerged from the then-heteronomer tower. Your smile was bigger than all the countless turbulences you've faced, a plethora of hope that baptised the witnesses there. But with the silent ride home to Babylonia, Liv and the other healers now resting, all the other conscious and unconscious commandants and constructs, you couldn't help but break down now, an endless stream of worry, fear, and relief as a storm in your body. Silent sobs wreck through your body, but Lee— your Lee, yours— held you so tight.

“I'm sorry,” even in the gentlest tone, his apology only made you sob more, “I know I should have thought about it thoroughly, I should have planned it with you. But it was the only solution.”

He kissed your temple, his cold fingers interlacing with your shaky ones, “...to keep you alive.”

You should be happy; Lee is right. He's alive, everyone else is alive. The tower was now a purification one. Yet why, out of all the things you should be crying about, an unfathomable thought that crossed your mind— something about death, something about a dogtag drenched in the bluest vital fluid— made you cry more?

“Commandant [Y/N],” Lee calls your name, that it catches your attention, a skip in your heart, “You're so brave. I'm sorry that you went through so much. But right now, everything will be alright.”

As your sobs slow down, Lee leans closer to your face, a finger wiping away the stream of tears, his lips kissing them away. Wait. Have you ever been so intimate with Lee this way? It suddenly baffled you; sure, you were both aware of each other's affections, sneaking away to be with one another. The furthest thing you've both even gone to, was a simple kiss on the cheek in your bedroom, before Lee went away, claiming his cooling systems malfunctioned. The gravity of the situation made you snap out of your sadness.

“W-wait, Lee,” you weakly shimmied out of his embrace, “I-I thought you didn't want this-”

You vividly remember Lee hates public display of affection.

But right now, his expression was puzzled, as if confused with your reaction. “And?”

A timid blush creeps in your cheeks. Somehow, you were the one getting embarrassed.

“I thought you didn't want people to see this kind of,” you coughed, “...display.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I am just taking care of my Commandant. There's no other explanation.”

Ah, what a fickle mind you have. Embarrassed, you sunk deep into his arms, pouting as you hid your face in his chest. “Ah...sorry.”

Lee coughs, “But there is something I do want to talk to you about.”

Peering up at him, you cocked your head to the side, “The mission? Or...what happened earlier?”

He looked at you with a small smile, before a faint pink tint in his cheeks appeared. He tucked the blanket to your chest, before returning his fingers to the gaps in yours. “We will arrive in Babylonia soon. It may be a hellhole right now, but...your rest will be the priority.”

“Hey, what-”

“-Get some sleep for now, Commandant...”

Gentle cerulean eyes looked at you with an unfamiliar emotion. Was it really unfamiliar, or were you slowly succumbing to the lull of a well-needed sleep.

It felt like a dream. His touch, his voice, his gestures. Your mouth opens, trying to call out Lee's name. But the way his thumb caressed your intertwined hands, the safety of a cradle as he held you close, the faint smell of his scent—

You fall asleep by the time the aircraft docks at Babylonia's hangar.

You remember the day you realized you liked Lee.

It was a little crush that bothered you like a bunny, hopping around the corners when it saw food nearby. You tried to ignore it, favoring the quiet, tranquil field, your battlefield for the fight against the virus. Yet, the longer you lingered in the field, the more of that man in blue with a cold facade and steeled eyes seem to capture your attention, far longer than any lesson you took in the F.O.S.

“Do you have any wish?” You remember Lee's sudden, peculiar question one day, at the Gray Raven lounge.

You were both chilling there, across one another; you were by the table, doing your paperwork, and him on the sofa, polishing his weapon. The question was so out of the blue. A few weeks after your initial meeting, and he was still in his Palefire frame. In honesty, what was your greatest wish? You were merely a fresh graduate, finally with a team assigned to you. You've been through the simulations, memorized every nook and crook of the books, and can even recite the constitution and the laws. All of this for the sake of humanity.

“Retaking Earth, having a future of peace.” was a simple way to put it.

But Lee only had a cold expression on his face, despondent eyes looking at you with judgement. You recognized this look, one that he'd been wearing every time you were around. You admitted him, earlier, his frigidity nearly makes you wet your pants. But when the last word escaped your lips, the expression changed for a split second— relief?— before it returned to its hardened state.

“I'm not asking you to do a pep talk.”

You pondered once more. Sure, humanity is needed. But guess not for Lee. What did you want, really? Ah, you remember the parcel you ordered, and the many more that were to come. Your wallet had been growing slimmer, too. Smiling, a stupid, yet practical idea sauntered to your young mind.

“Retiring as early as possible to get my pension?”

A life of pure ecstasy and glory. It wasn't so bad. But that look on Lee's face seemed to insinuate that he'd probably kill you and stage it as something else.

“Can you just give me one that is actually achievable?”

Is retiring early too much? When you looked up to Lee for another witty remark, you found yourself frozen. What once were steeled eyes were a noticeable shade of indigo, complimenting the blue patterns on his outfit. A clenched jaw, soft skin, a remarkable face that seemed to know so many things at once. You've always known you had a little bit of admiration for your team, with the tasks assigned to you little by little. But did you ever have your heart skip a beat whenever Lucia or Liv was around? You remember fierce and timid eyes looking at you, but never this cold. No, only Lee.

Only Lee could do that.

What little crush became a massive infatuation.

“Then,” sheepishly smiling, you felt your cheeks tint in the lightest shade, yet you still looked at Lee, “your smile?”

The question caught him off guard. Taking advantage of the situation, you decided to tease him further, “I want to see you smile more, Lee.”

You've always wanted to see him smile. One that was genuine, not commanded, nor forced. For the first time since your first meeting, there was a crack in his expression, a thin shade of pink dusting his own cheeks; a seemingly thin facade that only motivated you to open the lock that was presented to you.

“W-what-”

“You will scare everyone off with that intimidating look on your face,” you smiled, “So, please?”

Before the next moment could happen, the memory goes dark, and you open your eyes.

Your senses are out of place, lost as you tried to regain everything. First, your sense of smell returns as the scent of vanilla fills the room. Next is your hearing, the white noise of the air conditioner overwhelms the empty space. The feel of your bones and muscles, albeit sore and tired, felt weightless as you tried to lift your arms and legs up. The soft grasp of cotton and the mattress. When your vision returns, the white ceiling is adorned with the many trinkets you could remember sticking onto the top, the feeling of home asking to be welcomed. The comforts of the bed seemed to beg you to stay more, but you forced your body to sit up, the familiar scene of your room at the Gray Raven base now into view.

Did you...fall asleep? What time is it? You didn't want another lifetime of scolding waiting for you outside of your door. Lucia and Liv could be in the training room. And Lee...

An ominous feeling rattled your body. When you look down at your hands, a silent scream on your lips as you jump from the bed— your hands are tainted with a mixture of blue vital fluids and the brightest red.

Nearly falling onto the floor, lucky enough that you landed on your mattress. You suddenly remember everything—

“Lee!”

You forget your dignity. You forget your bare feet, you forget everything else. You had to find Lee. You had to. Running out of the door, you bolted to find the blonde man, the fear that you were too late to save him.

But before you could reach the last door that held all the answers you were looking for, a tall, study cushion prevented you from doing so.

“...dant! Commandant!”

A familiar voice. Snapping out of your fear-stricken trance, you felt yourself being pushed off slightly. A pair of worried cerulean eyes looking down at you.

“Commandant, I'm here!” A baritone voice, ones that made your eyes blur from the tears, “I'm here. I'm back.”

A comforting hold over you. A towering figure. The presence that could only make you crumble. Your teammate. The one that filled your quiet days.

“You're,” you choked, the dam of tears that spilled senselessly, “Lee, you're alive.”

He sighed in relief. Looking at you with a small smile, he said, “...You must be confused. Let's eat before we talk.”

Sunnyside up egg and bacon, the other kind of egg being scrambled. Two plates, two pieces of toast. A coffee and a glass of milk. And you finished it all, your share with the sunnyside up. The other was close to finishing, with Lee still tinkering on the small robot that was on his side.

A part of you thinks rationally, as you shouldn't eat like a pig when in front of someone else. But you can't help but strive to satiate the hunger that was distracting you from doing anything else. Apart from that, the raging headache was now gone.

You noticed something different, though.

“Did you enjoy it, Commandant?”

You glanced at Lee, before looking back at your clean plate. You wanted to retort, but, you awkwardly laughed instead. “Thank you, I really enjoyed it, Lee.”

“You looked like you tasted something else though,” you raised your brow, before he added, “Your expression changed.”

“Ah,” you absentmindedly toyed with your fork, “...it tasted different. Did Liv cook this?”

A faint blush adorned his cheek. “I was the one who cooked the food. Liv did not participate at all.”

You blinked in surprise. Lee? Cooking?

“Really?” Bewildered, you reeled back, “It tasted so good. I want a second serving...”

You had nothing against Lee's skills. He followed all of the nitty gritty details of the cookbook he used, making the dish taste too bland or too dry. But the one you tasted seemed different.

“I can cook more for you then, Commandant,” Lee prepared to stand up, but you grabbed his arm.

“Later, later!” You beamed at him, “I'm quite surprised as it tasted...”

What were the right words? As his hand loosened on your grip, you blurted out, “Warm.”

“Did it now?” A teasing tone. You huffed out, which made him grin.

“I'm glad you think so. After all, you were asleep for two days.”

The events of before came rushing back, nearly overwhelming you. But Lee's hand in yours strengthened your resolve. There were still a few questions on your mind, like—

“I checked you up on the Star of Life.” Lee continued, “I couldn't leave you there, as they were still packed with all the other victims. They granted you to rest here, where we watched over you.”

“What about the other people with us at the surface?”

“They were treated as well, Commandant. Right now, they gave us a two-week rest, with everything trying to settle down and rebuilding whatever we can.”

You touched his hand, “What about...you?”

And he touched yours back. “I did, as soon as we had you here.”

“I see, thank you,” you looked down on the oversized shirt, before glancing at Lee's now reddening face.

“I- um, we helped you clean and dress up. Mostly Liv and Lucia.”

“Where are they now...?”

“They might be helping with the rebuilding. It's my turn to watch over you.”

You hummed, retreating your hand, a small sense of disappointment. A comforting, yet anxious silence enveloped the environment; you fiddled with your hands, trying to find the right words to say. But the longer you dwell, the more your anxiety grew.

“...I didn't think that my shirt would look good on you.”

Your feelings dissipated. You looked up, Lee looking away to hide his blush, “I wanted to give it to Murray, but I'm glad that I still had some left.”

“Th...thank you, Lee. It feels very comfortable.” It was normal, right? Wearing boyfriend shirts has been a trend lately. So why are you blushing like a tomato? Well, at least the two of you look like tomatoes.

“...I still have a few more,” Lee said, gathering the courage to look at you, “If you're not closed to the idea of having shirts like the one you are wearing now, then, let me know.”

The cloth did feel quite comfy, never mind how it rested above your knees. It also smelled like Lee— apple blossoms and summertime. You were hoping you could keep the shirt hidden, but you were glad you had his confirmation.

Another silence. At this point, you'd rather be swallowed by the ground whole than be stuck with the awkward air. As you thought about it, deeper in thought, you felt Lee's fingers reach for yours, index finger wrapped around your pinky. Looking up, Lee already had his eyes on you, cerulean eyes looking with the same unfamiliar emotion.

“Commandant,” Quietly, as if the glass in front of you would break, “...Are you scared?”

“No,” you shook your head, sighing, “I was only worried. I thought...”

“So, you are.” Tenderly, he brought your hand closer to his face, “I feel that I can't apologize enough.”

“No, no, Lee,” What were you doing? Your vision nearly blurs, guilt clawing at the back of your throat, that your voice feels so small, “It's okay, it really is...”

“You told me yourself that you'd allow me to share all my burdens,” Gently, he kisses your fingers one by one, his eyes closed, “That we're doing this together until the end. You and I— you are no exception.”

Lee doesn't leave any finger unkissed, warm lips on your fingertips, before he trailed his kisses to the side of your hand, to the pulse on your wrist. Ah, he knows. He knew about the flash of blood on your hands, the haunting memory between the both of you. The first drop of your tears escaped. Then another. Until it became an endless stream, running down your face.

“I'm sorry, Commandant, for scaring you.” He opened his eyes, revealing glossy ones, mirroring your sad expression, “But I assure you; I am here, I'm sitting with you, I'm next to you now.”

Two of his hands are now on your wrist, hovering over his jaw, words brewing at the tip of his tongue. Does he know about your hammering heartbeat? How this very gesture, so intimate, so real— there are words far beyond comprehension, beyond verbal communication, that wishes to be said. But all it took was the way he looked at you, your hands on his. He pulls you closer, eased comfortably in his awaiting lap.

“In the tower,” he admitted, “The frame knows something, and I can't tell Asimov unless I tell you first.”

“What do you mean?”

His fingers are now on your cheek, wiping away all of your tears, looking at you with such sincerity, it nearly breaks your heart, “I saw the future.”

It made you freeze. The future? It didn't seem true. But you trusted Lee, and you would safeguard everything he said to protect him.

“Like...you saw it happen?”

He nods, “I do. I can even go back into the past. I used to remember it all so clearly, but...”

A twinge of dread sinks in your stomach, whispering, “you can't anymore?”

“...In the end, I can still remember the worst that happened.”

Lee's free hand cups your cheek, and you only noticed it now, the vibrant color of his cerulean eyes, reflected so bright. “I lost you in all of them.”

It hits you faster— you weren't the only one who suffered. Lee, your Lee, battled his own demons inside of the tower. It made your stomach sink, your heartbeat wild in your chest. Your Lee, who had always been so calculating and ahead of everything, had the fear that you also had.

The vivid thought of your hand wrapped around a bloodied dogtag washes over you. But you tried to push it away from your mind, opting to cup Lee's cheeks.

“Lee,” words die on your throat, “I'm...”

“That's why I need to tell you this, Commandant,” he inhaled deeply, that a shiver ran down your spine—

Was he going to ask to step down? To leave Gray Raven, to leave...you?

His face was dangerously close to yours now, your breathing tangled with yours, your warmth clinging to his skin, “I never want to be away from you again, Commandant.”

You held your breath. In the heat of the afternoon haze, Lee's arms are on your waist, the other on your cheek; you, on his lap, holding his face. All of the thousand words, unsaid during the ride home, poured in like a fountain. His thumb wipes away the last tear from your eyes, mouth curling into a smile.

“I may not hold what lies in the future, or how long until our end will arrive, but right now, I will not hesitate to spend all of our precious time together. I want to protect you. I will do everything I can to keep on saving you, even if I have to give my life.”

He drives the final nail onto his words, “I like you. I like you far too much, that if I don't see you anymore, then I will never know what to do.”

A confession. Lee was never this honest or upfront. It rattled you to the core, that a simple event made him change like this. Honest, upfront, intimate. But you only shook your head, the hold over him tightened.

“No,” you breathed out, “I can't lose you like that, Lee. I never want to lose you.”

“Save me all you want, but you know that I'll do the same,” you muttered, leaning to press your lips onto his cheeks, “But I won't only die for you. I will live for you.”

“I-”

“I like you, too, Lee. I like you that I would rather watch the world burn than to see you gone from me.”

In this very small space, you could hear his heartbeat echo alongside yours. His grip on your waist tightens, and you are leaving kisses on his face. There is a feeling that bubbles inside of you. You wanted to call him that word— something you've been craving to say that it aches too much in your mouth, asking to be confessed. But you already know that neither of you are ready to say it, nor accept it.

“Commandant-”

“Say my name, Lee,” your voice breaks, as your hands itch to wrap them around Lee, too touch-starved to care if this kind of intimacy breaks both of your boundaries, “I want to hear you say it.”

“[Y/N],” Lee's voice said your name so softly, that your heart flutters, “[Y/N],”

You've only heard Lee call your name with your title. But now, in the heat of this moment, as he calls your name, you never wanted anything more than to kiss him. Already leaning to close the missing gap, but you hesitate. You were really going to break all of the other boundaries you've both set for one another. So you lean away, slightly disappointed.

“[Y/N]?”

“I'm sorry, Lee.” A small pout on your lips, “I really...want to kiss you.”

“...I do, too.” You notice the pink in his cheeks grew darker, “...I want to kiss you. I want to do many things with you, [Y/N].”

Ah, a clear sign. One that makes your heart erupt with joy, one that made the grin on your face uncontrollable.

“Then, kiss me, Lee,” you said, cupping his cheeks, “I want you to kiss me.”

And he does. Your arms are wrapped on his shoulders, his lips on your waist. Closing the aching gap, that your bodies are pressed onto each other, it reminds you of the collision of stars— merging into one. Kissing Lee for the first time is soft, gentle, with a hint of neediness and satisfaction. One where the longer you've kissed, breaking away only to find a string of saliva on your lips, an unbearable need to kiss each other once more, that it deepens.

It distracts you, however— his hands tease along your bare thighs, fingers lightly tapping on your skin. You only move closer, his hands finding themselves wrapped on the back of your thighs.

“Lee,” you whispered, pulling away to find a string of saliva as you catch your breath, “can you touch me more, please? I want to know if this is real.”

“This is real,” he affirms, guiding your legs to wrap themselves on his hips, “...And I am touching you right now.”

He wastes no time kissing you again, one hand on your cheek, the other caressing your hips. Your hands, however putty, start to pull on his own clothes, finding where his buttons could be. Lee must have noticed it, when you breathe for air, he chuckles.

“Hyperreal isn't like my Entropy or Palefire, [Y/N]. Seems like I'll be the one taking them off, as you don't know where.”

“Such a tease,” you pout, “You should have asked Asimov to put some buttons or zipper somewhere to easily take off your clothes.”

“Well,” Lee coughs, “I honestly did not think that I would be making out with my Commandant in the future.”

It made you laugh loudly, fingers grazing his chin, “Cute. Well, I guess your prophecy skills are a bit too rusty, hm?”

“Mm,” Lee leans to brush his nose on the side of your face, “I did not forsee that an attractive girl like you would be on my lap right now, being so receptive and kind to me.”

The statement made you blush. “Cut it, and I thought you were the one who gets flustered easily.”

“Th-” Lee pulls away, revealing his adorable pout, paired with the raging blush on his cheeks, made you want to remember this sight forever, “That's because there is something wrong with my cooling system.”

“Even now on your new frame?”

He sighs. “I'm starting to think that it's not because of the cooling system...”

“Oh, you admit it now?”

“...Yeah,” he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers, twiddling, “I think it's because of you, [Y/N].”

“Why is it my fault now?”

“You...” Lee pauses, before looking at you, “...you make me think of things to the point of overthinking. You keep overriding my logic, always skewing my predicted data.”

“I'm sorry?” Awkwardly applogizing, but Lee only laughs.

“Do you know what you're doing to me, [Y/N]?”

“Mm, no,” your hands play with Lee's hair, behind his ear, “Pray tell?”

“You skewer with the data because...you create scenarios in my M.I.N.D. You drive me insane to the point that I have to investigate the data, correct it again, so that it won't interfere with mine.”

“What kind of data tampering do I do, Lee?” You were teasing at this point, Lee's ears turning red, “Explain it more.”

“You...” He wanted to throw a retort, but your teasing is relentless, that he only looks deep in your eyes, “You make me think of things that I want to do with you, that only lovers do.”

There you go. Your stomach flutters at the thought that you both shared the same sentiments.

“What kind, Lee?” You dropped your voice into a whisper, leaning to his ear, “Can you show me?”

“No, I-”

“-Don't hold back on me. That's an order.”

Under the light of the dining room, Lee's cerulean eyes turn into a darker shade, a low growl on his throat. Not a moment later, he hoists you by your ass and carries you onto the table, large hands touching your bare thighs. His face was still dangerously close to yours, lips touching, but not enough to leave a kiss.

“I'm not sure if I can please you enough,” he whispered, “But God, I want to touch you, [Y/N].”

The desperation in his voice. The slight shaking in his hands. Eager lips waiting to kiss you over and over— what a perfect concoction to appease the growing greed that was brewing down there. You decided to close the gap, hoping it was enough to answer the question Lee asked.

“Touch me more, Lee,” you whined when you pulled away slightly, hands all over his chest, “I want you. I need you so much.”

Lee doesn't waste any time. He kisses you once more, before carrying you once more in his arms. You leave it up to him, as he carries you back to your room, albeit clumsily as you feel yourself gently be squished in between the walls as he fumbles with the direction. But you don't mind, not when the kiss becomes fervent enough, tongue dipping to taste Lee's, to taste where you could reach. Your whines grow louder when you feel yourself lowered onto the soft surface— the bed— and the click of the door shut.

When you opened your eyes, Lee was already in the middle of taking off his upper clothes, revealing bionic skin in his shade, a glowing mark in the middle of his chest. Nevermind the way his arms looked, but the sight as he slowly undressed himself was enough to make your mouth (and probably your private area) water.

“Do you like the view?” Lee teases. Mindlessly, you nodded.

“Pretty...” you dawdled, admiring the glowing mark on his chest, “you're so pretty, Lee...”

“You should see yourself, [Y/N].”

Grasping to touch yourself, you realized that the shirt you were wearing was already raised to your tummy, revealing your panties. You didn't know what you looked like, really. But you trust Lee.

“I can't,” you smugly smiled, “Mind telling me what I look like now, Lee?”

As soon as he was finished in taking off his upper clothing, he leaned down, caging you in between his buff body. “Beautiful,” he said, thumb caressing your lips, “You look so delectable.”

Kissing you once more. Heat settles in between your pressed bodies, incessant hands reaching where they could. Gently, Lee's lips kissed your jaw, trailing to your ear. Softly, slow hands fiddling with the hem of his— now yours— shirt, teasing by the dip of your stomach. Butterfly kisses along your neck, nibbling so little, in a place where only Lee can see. A primal need gnawed at your heart; perhaps Lee's mark could be enough to satiate the need, right?

You craned your neck to him, muttering, “More, please.”

Hesitation sits where his lips were, short breaths fanning it. “Are you...are you sure?”

“Please,” your pleas somehow sound like a breathless moan, “We have two weeks to be here, right?”

You didn't see what his expression looked like, but he seemed convinced, teeth grazing on one particular spot that made you moan. And Lee devilishly nibbles on it.

“As you wish then, Commandant.”

Ah, the title again. You wanted to answer back, but Lee seemed to know where your weak spots were, with you writhing from pleasure. After the assault on your neck, his trail of kisses paused as he lifted off your shirt, revealing your breasts in their naked glory. Shimmying out of the shirt, you felt embarrassed already, covering yourself, in nothing but your underwear.

But Lee only held your hips, “Let me see you, [Y/N].”

“I-I don't think I have the best body, y'know,” you admitted, looking away, “It might not be perfect.”

Lee doesn't say a word. Taking your hands, he looks at you, before bringing it to his lips.

“[Y/N], look at me,” you do, mouth shut, “Tell me what you think of these hands?”

“Um,” you ponder for a moment, “For patting you?”

He smiles a bit, before kissing the back of your hands. “They can be used like that. But these are gentle hands, ones that use weapons to protect her comrades.”

He begins to trail kisses again, on your arms, to your shoulders, to your neck. You softly moaned as he kissed the side of your head, hearing him say, “Your arms are strong enough to carry your teammates, shouldering your strength that helps those you've always wanted to reach.”

“You're incredible, [Y/N],” he purred, kissing your clavicle, kissing you all the way, in between the valley of your breasts, “You are so beautiful, so powerful.”

Kissing and kissing your breasts, fondling them with care. You cry out his name from the sensitivity, the fluttering feelings all around you. He doesn't break eye contact as he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking it, and playing with the other.

Your mouth is a chorus, now— babbles of "Lee, Lee", "more, please", that the way he caged you perfectly in between his legs, you couldn't help but drown in the way he's holding you.

A while later, his lips travel to your stomach, your waist, a teasing little kiss on your hips— hoisting your legs up to his broad shoulders. He looks at you, as if asking you to not look away.

“[Y/N],” his voice sounds so sultry, mesmerizing you, “You may think that you're not perfect, but to me, you've always been so...holy, divine.”

Lee pressed a kiss to your ankles, to your legs, your knees, “I could worship you forever like this,” a few more kisses on the back of your legs- “I'll do this just so you know how much I adore you.”

How intimate, how devoted your Lee was— with your legs so close to his chest, you could feel his heartbeat thrumming. It was beating so loud like yours, a perfect mirror that rumbled in every part of your body, pulsating with so much want and need, that it made you want to pull him closer.

“Lee,” you moaned, feeling his lips slowly kiss your knees, trailing to the inside of your thighs, “Lee,”

“I'm right here,” He pressed a kiss to your weeping, clothed cunt, sending a jolt throughout your body, “Let me hear you more, my [Y/N]. Don't cover your mouth.”

You don't. Not when he sucks your clothed cunt with such vigor, your back arching for him. Your hands find themselves seeking respite in his hair, as he pulls down your soaked underwear, agonizingly slow. Wiggling out of it, you peered down to look at Lee, nearly drooling at the way your pussy was displayed all for him. You felt yourself dripping with want.

“God,” Lee groaned, a mix of a breathless moan and sigh, his fingers experimentally rubbing your labia, “You're even so beautiful down here, my [Y/N].”

You moaned at his words, hole clenching around nothing. You've touched yourself down there on fairly lonely nights, wishing it was Lee's hands instead of your own. But right now, as he rubs your slit with your slick, how lewdly your own mouth betrayed you, you may as well wish those lonely nights won't return, as the real thing was far better than your imagination.

“Lee, stop teasing,” you whined, “Touch me more.”

“I am already doing that,” he said, “Do you not feel it?”

“Well, honestly, with the way you're- nngh-”

He licked a long stripe on your slit, causing you to moan out loud. Hearing your reaction, Lee licks the same spot once more, making you twitch. But his hands are faster, holding your hips.

“Delectable,” He said, licking his lips, “I want to taste more.”

His lips latch onto your peeking clit, lapping at you like a starved man. It's messy, yet so hot— fingers prodding your hole, Lee's mouth on your needy pussy. You've lost all common sense at this point, fingers grasping tightly on his hair, babbling senselessly for Lee, tears crying as he works you out of your climax. You badly wish it wasn't a dream; your fingers could no longer do justice to the way Lee was taking you right now. It doesn't take any longer, though— you tried to warn Lee, but you came so unexpectedly, squirting uncontrollably with a loud cry of Lee's name.

You tread the wonders of your high, shaking with ultimate pleasure, as Lee dutifully coaxed out your juices, licking you clean. When you've come down, you've noticed Lee hovering above you, cerulean eyes still clouded with lust, yet with appreciation.

“That's it,” he cooed, fingers brushing away the hair that covered your face, “you're so amazing, my [Y/N].”

You moaned as he leaned down to kiss you, hands wrapped to cradle you, and you could taste yourself, cum and slick, on his lips. But you never minded that— let alone how hot it felt.

“Do you still want to do this?” Lee asked, looking at you with concern, “We can call it a day when you're overwhelmed.”

“No,” you said, pulling him closer, “We're past the point of no return. Besides...”

Placing a hand on his cheek, to which he leaned, you spoke, “I want you to be my first, Lee.”

He freezes. Looking up, he muttered, “A-are you sure? I don't want you to regret it.”

“I will never mind if it's you.” You smiled, “If anything, I want to give it all to you. I...adore you far too much. You'll only make my wishes come true.”

Lee thought for a moment, before looking back at you. “We're the same, then.”

Swiftly taking off his boxers, Lee's cock stands tall and proud, bouncing off to his stomach. You marveled at the sight, mouth-watering once more. You reached out to wrap your hands around the shaft, causing Lee to moan.

“Pretty,” you massaged the shaft, smearing the tip that had his pre-cum, “you're so big, too.”

Tall and long, and you feared he'd be too big to fit inside of you. It was veiny, with the fat mushroom tip with a lot of pre-cum. You wanted to put him in your mouth to return the favor, but with your cunt crying out loud of his cock, you wanted nothing more but to ask him to bury himself inside of you.

Lee looked like he could cum from your touch alone. But he doesn't want to— no, he had to be inside of you. He swallows his moans down, but the longer you jerk him, whiny groans and whimpering began to overwhelm him.

“Let me- hah,” Lee steals one last kiss on your cheek, before preparing to align himself to take your maidenhead, “I want you, [Y/N].”

“And I need you, Lee.” You cupped his cheek, whining as you felt his tip catch your clit, cock rubbing your drenched pussy, “I need you inside of me.”

Lee helps himself, guiding his cock in. You moaned out loud as you felt the tip prod your quivering hole, hands tightly grabbing onto his shoulders. Lee immediately holds your hips, a few shallow thrusts to help you accommodate his size. Your mouth slips out moans, eyes rolling back as half of his cock is already inside of you. But God, did you already feel so full, brushing a soft spot inside of you.

“[Y/N],” Lee stutters, heavily sigh that became a moan, “You feel so t-tight, hah,”

“Lee,” you cried out as he thrusted shallowly, weakly pulling his arm, “you're so big...”

“Shh, I'm sorry, I'm almost there,” he cooed, kissing the corner of your lips, “A little bit more.”

You scream his name as Lee finally bottoms out, triggering your second orgasm. Lee could only moan as he grasped your hips, groaning at the way you tightened, squeezing him without mercy. But he still rubs your hips, easing you back to reality.

“Fuck,” Blurring out, but hearing him curse, made you involuntarily clench around him, “You're not only tight, but you're nearly killing me here.”

“S-sorry,”

Lee only thrusts into you as an answer. Squeaking from the sensitivity, you tried to reason out, but failed as Lee chuckled.

“It's not your fault, [Y/N]. I guess it means I'm good, hm?”

Bastard. Still so cocky. You pouted, “You are mean.”

“And you're so pretty.”

Lee resumed thrusting in and out of you, the recoil making your breasts bounce. One hand holds your hips, the other on your hand, taking them to his lips. As pleasure starts to build despite your sensitivity, you somehow recognize the gravity of the situation: Lee's smell, your nearly-fucked out senses, the creak of your bed, and the way he was still making love to you, your virginities now given to each other. Lee fucks into you just right, the cock hitting all of the spots that made you babble. Everything was overwhelmingly good, that you arched off of the bed, his cock hitting inside of you deeper.

“Lee,” you cried out, “Lee, God,”

“I'm here,” he leaned to you, “I'm here.”

You never wanted this moment to end. You forget your responsibilities, you forget the war— even just for a moment, everything was perfect for the both of you. As Lee settles your legs in his shoulders, the intense feeling is knotting at the bottom of your stomach, waiting to snap.

“[Y/N],” Lee cooed, “Are you going to come?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, “I wanna come with you-”

“I'm almost there,” as if adhering to your needs, Lee slips his fingers to your clit, rubbing it, “You can do it.”

Your climax really is coming, alongside Lee's. But before the knot snaps, you realize that Lee is still speaking.

“[Y/N],” in between moans and your whining, Lee gripped your hands, cerulean eyes glimmering. “My [Y/N]-”

“-I love you.”

You teetered so close to the edge that you couldn't process his words. But it was enough to reach your climax. Writhing, you felt yourself be filled with something down there, you and Lee moaning each other's names. He rests his head in between your shoulders. And you were perfectly content with the weight on top of you.

It takes you a few moments to process it. In between catching breaths, his hair in your fingers, your other hand fiddling with his own, the message seems clear.

“Are you okay?” Lee asked as soon as he was back on top of you, still sheathed inside of you, “Did I hurt you?”

“No...” Your eyes must be glimmering like his, as your tears began to blur your vision, “What a charming man you are, Lee.”

Lee understood, but he still feigned ignorance. “Hm? How so.”

Pressing your hands flat on his chest, you felt his heartbeat, slowing down to a normal one, and it made you wish that you could stay like that forever.

“I love you, too, Lee.” These were words you've longed to say after all. “I will always love you.”

Lee only smiled, cheeks tinted in the bright shade of pink, “...I'm glad you heard that, then, my [Y/N].”

How funny that the ride home seemed silent. But the words were far better spoken out loud in the end.

BONUS:

“Lee! Commandant! We're back!”

The sound of the door opening at the Gray Raven lounge reverberates. Two figures emerge inside, carrying a bag full of ingredients.

“Lee?” Liv asked, looking around, “Where is he?”

“It's unlike him to leave so abruptly.” Lucia shrugged, “Let's check on the Commandant.”

Leaving the bag on the table, Liv and Lucia trotted to the Commadant's room, finding two figures sleeping next to each other.

“Oh,” Lucia whispered, beckoning Liv to be silent, “They're here. Lee's sleeping next to the Commandant.”

“I see...” Liv looks around to find clothes all over the floor. “Did someone break in? Why is the floor messy?”

“I don't know. Lee was probably trying to dress the Commandant.”

“I noticed the plates were also unwashed. Did the Commandant already wake up?”

“We'll just ask later when Lee's awake.”

When the door of the Commandant's room finally closed, a loud slap could be heard.

“Ow, [Y/N]-”

“I am never going to go out of this room.” You sighed in embarrassment, remembering that the hickies on your neck are very visible, and you're probably aware that you couldn't walk. “I'm screwed.”

“We just did.”

“Lee!”

— starry

#pgr #punishing gray raven #punishing gray raven imagines #pgr commandant #pgr global #pgr lee #pgr hyperreal #lee brainrot because I HAVE HIMMMM

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