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rottiens · 28 days

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⊹ ˚. RYŌMEN SUKUNA┊ "Not on my legs." He clarifies. "On my stomach." You ignore the flutter that lands on your belly and force yourself to concentrate on keeping your legs steady.

𖤐 about. being taken away from your village, you have to try to live and survive on your own with the king of curses.

𖤐 cw. mdni. true form sukuna x afab!reader, dubcon (since the reader is forced to be a servant), you ride the mouth on his tummy, choking kink, sadistic sukuna if you squint, dirty talk, overstim, oral ( m -> f ), set in the heian era. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Sukuna is not familiar with giving up power, though it is not surprising, after all a man who has achieved so much power to the point of being revered as a god would not expect anything different. He is not used to being commanded, though not many have tried it and lived to tell the tale anyway, yet when you told him you wanted to do it tonight, without his help (you trying to prepare yourself, stretching yourself before taking it), fiery flames charged with lust and pride covered his devilish eyes, turning them a darker red than you are used to.

Drunk with control, Sukuna is always the one who dictates when and how things happen, ordering around those who serve him, as his word is the word of a king. He doesn't remember the last time someone addressed him with such arrogance and pride in their mouth, he should punish you for speaking before he allows you to but tonight he is feeling benevolent.

"Come here." His husky voice gave off hunger and poured over your limbs like honey. The purr in his timbre brought life to your muscles which tensed and contracted with anticipation.

You rose from the floor where you lay on your stomach with your forehead pressed to the ground in submission, and walked silently to where he is. His chambers are covered by a veil of absolute silence that is interrupted from time to time by barely audible vibrations coming from sukuna who lets them out every time he exhales through his nose, something very similar to the purring of a beast.

Filled with insecurity, you get ready to climb into his lap when you are close enough and it is only at that moment when he speaks again, freezing you on the spot.

"Not on my legs." He clarifies. "On my stomach." You ignore the flutter that lands on your belly and force yourself to concentrate on keeping your legs steady.

You take a long look at his figure and end up on his stomach, where you were ordered to sit. To describe sukuna as big is an adjective that would be too small for him, the houses in your village are big, the horses are big, sukuna… was huge. A monster, was what they called it in your village and even that word might not be enough to describe the creature that stood before you.

His four arms are a wonder to behold face to face, especially up close. Two hold him on his elbows gracefully, semi reclining on the futon where he expands his body further to give you the space you need to climb to his belly; while the other two…there is one holding his jaw and another resting above his hips.

Just like his arms, he possessed four pairs of eyes that don't let a single detail escape; all of these were set on you, you could feel them moving on you, there was no way to escape from him.

And finally, in his belly there was a mouth capable of tearing off the lower half of your body with one bite if he set his mind to it.

For how exposed he was, vulnerable even (bare belly and exposed chest, his arms in a resting position), sukuna was very relaxed and which makes you wonder if perhaps he doesn't think you brave or foolish enough to try to attack him, although it's not the right time or place, you couldn't do much if you were to hurt him sufficiently to try to escape, not with his subjects scattered all over the temple at least. Before you could get to the door his servants would have you imprisoned in one of the cold, dark rooms you've already been in.

Clearly impatient, thanks to being too occupied by your mental wanderings, the hand that lay on his hips gently pushes you into the position he ordered you to. You take a quick glance at your new seat, you find yourself just above the curved line of a smile on his lower abdomen. You look up to observe him, rather than relaxed he is now uneasy, concern is marked on your face as you recheck the mouth on his stomach closed in a tight line.

The posture is awkward thanks to the width of his body, your thighs are stretched to the max and your feet dangle from his body like an uncomfortable horse ride.

The imposing mouth suddenly opens suddenly revealing a thick and grotesque tongue and gives you a quick lick immediately wetting your crotch, the moan of surprise that escapes you makes the pair of cocks tremble under the piece of cloth that holds them captive.

Sukuna licks you again slower this time, taking his time to savor your taste. A murmur of approval makes the mouth on your stomach vibrate along with the purring that seems to increase and you hear clearly now that you are close to him. Then you realize it wasn't some noise he was making or your imagination, it was the natural purr coming from a predator and the contrast terrifies you since it sounds as soft as a lullaby.

"Give me more of that sweet taste." You clench. Your eyes, your thighs, your cunt.

The intruding tongue seems to be all over your slit at the same time, it's feather soft yet has just enough pressure to have you sobbing and dripping from how accurate its lashes are.

Soon you feel unsteady, dizzy, you try to grab hold of something firm but there is one of his hands imprisoning your wrists in your lower back and another firmly squeezes your neck making you unable to escape. "You're not going anywhere, little one," sukuna growls.

The soft muscle, coated with an excess of saliva completely covers your pussy in sweet ecstasy, you feel its edges even wet your trembling thighs, the sensation is crushing. Your whole body is charged with a strange static after the intruder moves imitating a wave, attacking your aching clit, squeezing your pussy lips and spilling your arousal into the monstrous mouth that licks and licks and then swallows.

"I want you to ride it." Four fingers pinch your nipples at the same time. "Ride my tongue, you said you wanted to get ready but I do not see you doing anything but being lazy on me," he reminds you, in that teasing tone that could make you cum right then and there.

It's too much. You want to let him know, your cheeks are about to boil and you don't know how much you can hold back the tears. The sensation of pleasure was overwhelming, the line between pleasure and too much of it causing pain was very thin. You wanted to run away, to ask him that you needed to rest at least for a moment but you know what that could cause.

"I do not want to repeat it, woman."

You don't seek to anger him because his punishments are far worse, so you find the last shred of willpower in you and rotate your hips in weak circles along with a broken gasp. He grunts in response.

You're close. Very, very close. The grip on your wrists increases and you slurp through your nose. You rub it desperately up and down, grinding your sensitive clit in the process, you do small bounces on the fully hanging tongue that reveal sticky clicks that expose how wet you are, your own juices mixed with his saliva spilling down the length of your legs and soaking his hips.

"Cum for me." He commands firmly, manifesting small mouths on his hands that are tasked with torturing your tits, sucking and biting your nipples mercilessly as he delights in watching you squirm under his touch.

"Sukuna!" His name feels sweet on the roof of your mouth and rumbles between the walls of his chamber as your movements descend to gradually fade away.

Then you hear a chuckle, the mouth you just rode, a grotesque cackle that bristles your skin and makes you moan at how sensitive you are as it gives you one last lick and then disappears completely into the cavity, showing you just as it did at first a tight line that could pass as a scar if you weren't paying attention.

Abruptly, his fingers dig into your cheekbones, sinking your cheeks so that your lips can pout adorably. His purr is much louder and harder now.

"If you want to make your king proud you will have to do more than that." Your eyes snap open. "You're ready to take my cocks at the same time, I promise I'm going to use that body of yours tonight until you pass out."

This is a repost! <3

#wr #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna smut #true form sukuna x reader #cw dubcon #cw dark content #cw choking

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ghost-proofbaby · 10 months

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up.

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well?

DINGUS: so it seemed.

ARGYLE 😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour.

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe.

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance?

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next?

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve.

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference.

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first.

He’s making no move to get up off the floor.

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.”

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through.

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious.

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you.

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion.

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?”

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.”

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything.

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?”

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.”

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.”

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours.

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.”

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms.

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush?

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively.

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.”

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.”

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit.

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?”

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better.

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.”

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.”

“Then consider this your notice.”

Is this what I had always been missing out on?

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning.

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever.

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?”

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.”

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.”

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you.

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there.

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home.

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really.

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions.

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation.

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.”

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?”

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?”

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?”

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.”

“What have you guys been doing?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.”

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says.

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.”

“Am I?”

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder.

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.”

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.”

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.”

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.”

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet.

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.”

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket.

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.”

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over.

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now.

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around.

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.”

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night.

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly.

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center.

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well.

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it.

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches.

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now.

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now.

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.”

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.”

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.”

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?”

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t.

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing.

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it.

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to.

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave.

Eddie’s quick to follow.

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure.

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C.

Leaving now is not leaving forever.

But it sure does feel like it.

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave.

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you.

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?”

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?”

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck.

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.”

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you.

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Time. You two needed time apart.

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet.

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away.

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful.

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went.

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart.

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.”

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.”

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat.

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind?

That wasn’t really complicated.

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.”

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes.

You wish you would have kissed him.

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-”

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend.

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours.

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be.

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems.

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted.

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you.

Rough’s a good way to put it.

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it.

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend.

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy.

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress.

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie.

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along.

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless.

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration.

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again.

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two. And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s.

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two.

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him.

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time.

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to.

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears.

EDDIE: Make it home okay?

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now.

YOU: yep. my roommate just left.

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember?

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud.

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone.

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams.

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care.

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened.

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now.

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds.

EDDIE: Ah. I see.

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over?

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems.

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down.

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours.

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos.

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you.

YOU: About what?

EDDIE: I’m not home right now.

Your heart clenches.

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not.

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere.

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is.

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step.

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you.

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues.

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist.

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.”

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter.

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool.

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?”

“Start over?” you question wearily.

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.”

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves.

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.”

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.”

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you.

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss.

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home.

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.”

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #this feels so surreal to post jesus christ #thank you guys genuinely for all the love #i will be making a sappy post before i post the epilogue on thursday #i just #wow #yeah #i did it #again #i finished a fucking fic

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Note

Hi,love ur stories 😍

I was wondering if u could do one based on 'I see the light' from tangled, where they meet at a mutual friends wedding or something, she was singing the song where she has the most melodiest voice and (charles, max or Pierre) somehow 'fall in love' at first sight of her along with her voice. Thx 😊😍

This was cute 💕 I hope you don't mind but I changed the setting a little bit.

Tangled Up In You || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x singer!fem!reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with his ex, more fluff WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist

Children were known to be resilient creatures that could adapt well to changes but Penelope had struggled to understand why her and her mother no longer lived with Max. It had been six months and still she asked where her ‘Maxie’ was and why he couldn’t come with them to their new home.

So, it came as no surprise when she was asked who she wanted to invite to her 4th birthday party that Max was at the top of the list.

“...you don’t have to come, I can say you are busy-”

“No, I’ll be there, Kel,” Max interrupted as he put the call on speaker and added the event to his calendar. “Is P there? Can I talk to her?”

“Sorry, she’s with Daniil picking out her princess dress. The theme’s Disney, of course,” Kelly laughed softly before she sighed. “Are you sure you want to come, or are you just being nice?”

“I want to come. I miss our tea parties, and standing on tiny pieces of lego.”

The silence on the line lingered for a moment before she couldn’t help asking. “Do you miss me?”

This time it was Max who sighed. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

He hung up before she could apologise again. Somehow she always turned a conversation back to their relationship, but that wasn’t something Max would ever entertain. If the man knew one thing from his life of racing it was how to move forward and when the three year relationship he had run its course he had taken time to reflect, just like those post-race debriefs, and planned to use it as a lesson learned for next time.

Kelly had overdone it as usual.

The largest ballroom of Hôtel de Paris had been transformed into a set straight from Disney and filled with actresses dressed as Penelope’s favourites princesses.

It was easy to spot P when Max walked in because her excited squeals were impossible to miss and he followed the sound to the front of the stage where she was jumping excitedly.

“Maxie!” she screamed, running and jumping at him trusting he would catch her.

“Happy Birthday, P,” he grinned as he lifted her up into a hug. “I can’t believe you are two years old already.”

“I’m four, silly!”

“No, that can’t be. You can’t possibly grow up that quickly.”

“I can! Have you seen my princesses? My favourite one isn’t here yet but mummy said she’s going to be here any minute.”

Max scanned the room for the princesses and saw the usual ones like Cinderella, Snow White and Aurora. “Is Rapunzel still your favourite then?”

Penelope nodded with a big toothy grin. “She’s so pretty. I want to be like her when I grow up.”

Max put her down carefully and straightened the tiara sitting on her perfectly styled hair. “You are already prettier than everyone here, P.”

“There you are,” Kelly greeted Max as she left another conversation to join them, kissing his cheeks twice just a little too close to the corners of his lips. “Just in time too. Sweetheart, look who’s here.”

Penelope screamed as she spotted Rapunzel taking the stage, a long golden braid adorned with flowers hanging all the way down her back. “It’s her, it’s really her,” P squealed as she squeezed Max’s hand. “She’s beautiful.”

Max was in a state of shock as his jaw fell slack. “She is.”

The lights of the stage dimmed until only a single spotlight cast a warm glow to her skin, the braiding of hair around her head appearing like a golden crown, or more accurately, a halo.

Max recognised the song in an instant, remembering the evenings spent on the couch watching Tangled, P dancing across the living room floor as she sang her little heart out. The memory brought a smile to his lips and it only grew wider as the angel on the stage began to sing.

You double checked the wig was held firmly by the pins and not a strand of hair was out of place before running your palms over the dress to make sure there wasn’t a single wrinkle on the pastel pink material. Satisfied you were ready, you hooked the small microphone and earpiece into place and nodded to the sound engineer to start the cue.

It was no difficult task to smile brightly as the music began and you twirled out onto the stage, you lived for these days. Seeing the excitement and joy your performances made the children who witnessed it brought joy to your life. Seeing their eyes widen and their jaws drop was what motivated you to channel even deeper and give your all to the act.

All those days watching from the windows All those years outside looking in All that time never even knowing Just how blind I've been

You spotted the birthday girl at the front of the crowd and plucked a bright flower from the braid, kneeling down to tuck it behind her ear. Her smile widened and she could hardly stand still as she trembled with excitement.

You waved a hand to the ceiling and the projector illuminated it with a thousand little glowing dots and a surprised gasp whispered across the largest crowd you had ever sung to.

Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight Now I'm here, suddenly I see Standing here, it's all so clear I'm where I'm meant to be

You smiled at the little girl once more before spinning on your toes beneath the twinkling lights, the tulle skirt billowing around you as if you were floating away with them.

Around the room, the other casted characters were turning on their lanterns and raising them into the air on near invisible strings. You could perform this set a thousand times and never tire of seeing the crowd's reactions to the lanterns floating into the night sky.

And at last I see the light And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light And it's like the sky is new

You scanned the crowd while they were in a state of wonderment looking up, but there was one man who wasn’t. He still held the same unblinking look of awe but he could have been oblivious to the lights the way he was staring right back at you.

There was something about the look that almost knocked you off your feet as your stomach flipped and heat burned on your cheeks under the intensity. His eyes, a pale shade of blue, drew you closer to the edge of the stage and his foot lifted as if he were to follow.

And it's warm and real and bright And the world has somehow shifted

His lips moved like he knew the words by heart and you nearly missed the line as your heart skipped a beat. The rest of the crowd faded away as you knelt back where you had been and pulled another flower from your hair.

All at once everything looks different Now that I see you

He leaned forward and you tucked it behind his ear, your fingers grazing his jawline as you retreated. You were so absorbed by his shy smile and the blush highlighting his cheeks you didn’t notice the woman standing to the side of him. For a moment, before you caught yourself, it was only him that you sang to and only him that you saw.

“Please, please can I?” P begged her mother to go and see Rapunzel but after the breathtaking performance she had been in a mood and withdrew her hand from her daughter’s.

“No, your cake is going to be coming out in a moment - I need to be here to show them where to put it.”

Tears welled along the four year old’s eyes and her bottom lip trembled before Max stepped in. “How about I take her?”

He had been watching the stage entrance for any sign of movement since her song had ended and it was hard to hide the disappointment when she didn’t return for another. He could still hear her voice and was busy committing it to memory in the hopes he could use the sweet, melodic sound to calm his racing mind when he lay awake alone at night.

Max couldn’t explain how utterly obsessed he had become or how he wished he knew what delicate perfume it was he had inhaled when she touched his face. He ran his hand along his jawline, following where her fingers had been under the guise of a scratch, and he was glad he had tidied his beard up for the event.

“Of course you would offer that,” Kelly bit back, pulling him from his thoughts as his hand fell away from his face. “Whatever, do as you want.”

Penelope understood the permission but missed the sarcasm and Max sighed to himself as he took P’s hand and made their way to the curtains that hid the makeshift backstage area.

“Rapunzel!” P squealed as she rushed forward, towing Max to keep up until she barrelled into the princesses legs and wrapped her arms around them. “I love you.”

You had almost begun to pull your wig off when you heard a little girl call out. You turned just in time to catch her as she grappled you into a hug and you laughed softly as you tucked her hair back behind her ear to see the flower you had given her.

“Aren’t you the sweetest little girl,” you giggled as you knelt down to her height and took in the sight of the man who followed her, his hands tucking into his dress pants. You drowned in the eyes that had held you captivated before tearing yours away and swallowing the disappointment that had crept up your throat. “I hope you are having the most magical birthday with your father.”

The birthday girl looked up at him with a laugh. “This is my Maxie.”

You tried to hide your confusion but he obviously saw it as he scratched the back of his neck, the material of the shirt he wore straining as his biceps tensed.

“Uh, I am, was, her step-dad,” he corrected as he gave the girl a small sad smile before offering his hand to you. “It’s just Max, or you can call me Maxie too, I guess, if you want.”

You smiled in amusement as you shook his hand, the touch lingering a little longer as neither of you made an effort to pull away.

“I’m Rapunzel,” you said as your eyes darted to Penelope.

“Right,” he chuckled and let his hand fall back to his side as he looked at her too. “Your cake might be waiting for you, P. Do you want to go check?”

“Can you come?” she asked you with big round eyes.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but Eugene has probably got himself into trouble without me, so I should really be going. But I must thank you, it was an absolute delight to celebrate your birthday with you. I love getting to spend time with a fellow princess.” You swung your braid over your shoulder and the sweet scent of the fresh flowers filled the air. “You can have as many as you like.”

It took all your concentration not to look at Max when that was what you really wanted to do, especially when he knelt beside you and helped Penelope to choose which flowers to take. His arm brushed against yours and you nearly lost your balance from the deep breath you took of his mouth watering cologne.

Eventually she was happy with the dozen bright blossoms she cradled in her arms and thanked you before rushing to take them back to her mother. “Come on, Maxie!” she called without looking back to see if he was following.

He rose with a sigh and you hissed as your head was tugged sharply by the pins. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured as he saw his watch had got caught in the braid. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, it actually happens more often than you would think.” You rubbed the back of your head where the pain was worst and double checked the birthday girl was gone. “I’m Y/N.”

He repeated it with a smile as he slipped the watch off his wrist to use both hands to untangle it from the golden threads. “Would you let me take you to dinner to apologise properly?”

If you were wearing your microphone it probably would have picked up the sound of your heart from how quickly it started pumping. There was no denying this attraction between you and you could see he was equally affected by it too.

“No, I told you it’s alright,” you started, taking his hand when his shoulder slumped crestfallen. “But, you can buy me dinner if you want to make it a date?”

A bright smile broke across his face and you couldn’t help smiling back knowing it was because of you. “Tonight?”

You nodded as you reached into the hidden pocket in the dress and passed him your phone to enter his number before he sent himself a message to get yours. “You might not recognise me without all this,” you joked as you started to pull the pins out of the wig and freed your natural hair.

He chuckled and shook his head as he found you even more beautiful than before. “There’s no mistaking those eyes, I would recognise them anywhere.”

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #f1 imagine

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taintandviolent · 10 months

Text

deflowering ; James March x virgin!Reader

{requested by anonymous} summary: 7k words! after a little dancing, more than a little champagne, you decide to take James March up on his offer of going up to one of the new rooms of the Hotel Cortez, to break them in, as it were. Little does he know, he's about to break you in, too. w a r n i n g s: virgin!reader (adult), mentions of alcohol, rough sex, explicit descriptions, canon divergence, rough sex, thigh riding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, aggression, use of 'daddy', dom themes.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

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It was the twenty-third of August, 1926, and you had just finished your second glass of champagne in the Hotel Cortez. Usually, you never drank this much, but it was a celebration after all. Some fellow named James Patrick March had finally completed the arduous construction of his new hotel and tonight was the opening night. Crowds had flocked to the entrance, dressed to the nines and all eagerly craning their necks for a peek at the glamorous inside. Those who weren’t explicitly invited were turned away by the doorman in his starched uniform.

You, of course — you’d been invited by your friend’s friend’s friend and when you showed up in a beaded, green dress and the mink stole your mother had given you four birthdays ago, you waltzed right through those doors without a single question. You looked like you belonged here as much as the group of actresses that walked in before you. The moment you entered, the hotel stole a gasp from your lips, dazzling you with its prestige and innovation.

It had been toted as “an overly ambitious project” and you could certainly attest to that. Mr. March, whomever he was, had written a particular aesthetic into the design of his hotel and from the hexagonal patterned carpets to the ornately panelled gold walls, everything fit the opulent theme. The Blue Parrot Lounge was a name you’d heard whispered several times, waiters coming down the curved staircases with trays full of delicate champagne flutes. You learned shortly after that the bar was on the second floor and overlooked the entire hotel lobby.

But downstairs in that lobby, a band was set up, their instruments exhaling the liveliest melody you’d heard in ages. Easily, they persuaded the masses to kick their heels up. The grand chandelier above your head twinkled like your own personal galaxy, shimmering every time you moved. In fact, everything twinkled. You felt ebullient, as light as a cloud, and didn’t have a care in the world.

There had been a brief pause where Mr. March welcomed everyone to his Hotel in his dangerously cordial way, making a show of popping champagne. Everyone applauded, congratulated and then quickly dispersed, eager to return to the complementary libations. You’d eagerly taken to the dance floor and quickly found a partner in a jazzy white suit. He had blonde hair, sharp, chiseled features and deep green eyes - handsome enough. You two paired alright, enjoying each other’s lively moves.

He’d clearly been drinking more than you, judging by the way he slurred his compliments to you, dabbing nervously at the sheen of sweat that decorated his forehead. After an hour or so of dancing, your feet were sore and your curious nature had wrapped its tendrils around your throat, ordering you to investigate the rest of the hotel.

A server held another glittering tray of champagne high above everyone’s heads, and you snatched one as he passed you, hurriedly bringing it to your mouth. The effervescent liquid tickled the bow of your lips, the tiny bubbles popping as you sucked in a delicate mouthful. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger, trying not to gulp too loud.

As the song changed, the band racing into another upbeat melody, you swung your shoulder around, prepared to sink deeper into the hallways. Instead, you nearly collided with a broad shoulder. “Oooh! ‘Pardon me!”

“Mm.”

You recognised him right away. In the wicked and honest parts of your brain, you were thrilled that, of all people, you’d bumped into him. During his speech, all the women were staring with illicit gazes and hungry tongues. You’d mapped the direction of their eyes as they scanned along his face, and down his body as they openly and dissolutely lusted after him. The audible whispers that scattered the room when he cracked open the champagne, allowing the fizzy stream to spray into his mouth would’ve been laughable if you hadn’t been one of the whisperers.

He seemed slightly less personable now, almost curt in nature. Something about the dismissive way he’d flashed his brows at you as if he was annoyed sparked a fire in your curiosity. He was too handsome to let slip through your fingers, and surely, there must be a reason for his clipped response. You gulped down a mouthful and cleared your throat.

“Say, aren’t you Mr. March?” You asked coyly, knowing full well who he was.

He stopped then, like he’d been challenged to a duel, and with a slight bow, turned gracefully on his toes. To him, it was a challenge. You hadn’t run off with your tail between your legs, offended by his sternness, and that was a challenge for conversation, for flirtations and perhaps… indulging himself.

“Indeed I am. Enjoying yourself?” He eyed the half-empty glass in your tiny little hand, taking note that it clearly wasn’t your first.

“Oh, very much so. This is a ssswell party, Mr. March.”

“Splendid! And please,” He took your hand in his, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Call me James.”

You cooed in acknowledgment, watching him from the rim of your glass. He lingered for a little too long and you would’ve bet your last penny that you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he inhaled a deep breath of your scent. After a moment, James straightened up, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

He had indeed; you were sweet, like a delicate pastry with the slightest hint of fruitiness underneath. There were notes of a perfume, floral, something moderately expensive — surely, something you’d saved up all your pocket change for. The way your eyes glimmered awoke a deep hunger within his core. He’d play with this.

“Tell me, my dear. Can you dance?” He asked.

The moment you said you could, he’d wrapped your slender arm around his forearm, holding onto it tightly as he towed you back towards the dance floor. Thank god your mother had insisted you learn how to dance properly. And thank heavens your friend, whom Mother detested, taught you how to dance improperly. Mother had always said these new trend dances were for immoral and loose women, but when James March insisted you dance the Charleston with him, you’d never been gladder for immorality in your life.

Keeping a tight hold on your hand, he swung you out into the clearing. With his fee hand, he made a quick gesture to the band. They responded by starting up the familiar melody, and James stepped to your side, lifting his brows in a silent confirmation that you were as ready as you looked. You gave him a short nod, and you both took one step backwards, beginning the shuffling motions.

His feet moved quick to the rhythm; behind and in front of each other, his heels kicking out to the side. All things considered, you made a worthy partner, keeping up with his lively, bobbing movements. Your hands were at your waist, fingers splayed out, swishing from side to side. You both leaned forward in unison and sent your right heels up into the air. The moment you straightened up again was when you realised that a small crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez and all of their eyes were on the two of you. Everyone was watching as you two masterfully stepped the Charleston and you felt like a celebrity, a performer with the most handsome partner.

There was one woman in particular, a gorgeous brunette gal, who looked on with narrowed eyes. James stepped in front of your line of sight, flashing a villainously personable smile, and spun you back to his side. Though he wouldn’t dare voice it, the beginning twitches of an erection had his cock stirring in his pants. You were delectable and lively, something he’d take great pleasure in snatching away from you. All the more arousing that she hasn’t the slightest clue….

As the song ended, you couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giddy laughter, falling backwards into his chest. You couldn’t be sure, but as his arms enclosed around you, you thought you heard a syrupy laugh deep in his throat. Both of you were tuckered out, chests heaving, a misting of sweat covering your décolleté and his forehead. After a moment in his strong arms — ooooh, his arms — he brought a handkerchief from a pocket, dabbing his forehead gently. Modest applause peppered the crowd, along with a few glad compliments.

“I don’t mean offence by this, but…” You swallowed, wetting your throat. “I didn’t think you could dance like that!”

“I’m full of surprises.” He answered.

James swooped around you, circling you predatorily. His fingers ghosted over the back of your neck, sending a convulsive shiver down your spine.

You two locked eyes then, staring wordlessly. Both of you unable to ignore the need, the pulling draw, the hunger to touch each other. It was the sort of gaze that started rumours. His tongue scraped along the roof of his mouth, longing to taste the churning arousal between your legs. He knew it was there, told plainly by the way you fiddled with the hem of your neckline, nervously, trying to placate your own licentious thoughts.

“Beautiful hotel, really.” You finally whispered.

“Allow me to show you the best room in the house.” His eyes flashed to yours, sensing the apprehension. You rolled your shoulders inward, prepped to decline as politely as you could.

“Oh now, now… no need to be shy. I’m a gentleman first and foremost.”

“I don’t know if your lady friend will enjoy that…” You retorted.

“You are the only lady in my company.” He assured.

You gazed behind him one more time and met eyes with her — an action you’d immediately regretted. Her gaze was as comforting as a jail cell, and her full lips were pulled into a tight, frustrated line that held back a myriad of hatred. You opened your mouth to speak, but a forefinger was pressed hurriedly into your cupids bow, shushing you quickly. He looked down at you, brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Now, now. Shh. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue, my dear. I had plans for it later.”

Your brows pulled together, eyes displaying nothing but sheer confusion. What on Earth did he mean by that? Either of those things? You were too afraid to broach the question, partly in fear that the answer would’ve frightened you, or worse, aroused you.

As though he read your mind, heard your innermost thoughts, he added quickly: “If you want to find out what… well, you’ll have to follow me first, my dear. Shall you?”

He extended his hand to you, palm up.

Against your better judgement and without thinking a second more about the repercussions, you took it and managed to squeak: “To the moon, James.”

When you glanced over his shoulder a final time, that woman watched you as he led you away, that tumultuous anger burning in her eyes. Something about her piercing gaze sent a shiver down your spine. She looked innocent enough, but underneath the done-up exterior, there was a cruelness, a hostility that you wanted nothing to do with. You hurried your steps, pinning yourself closer to James.

The journey took longer than you expected as every few moments, he was stopped by a hotel guest and congratulated. Everyone from stuffy elderly couples to actors you recognised from pictures all wanted to shake hands with the man that had created “the hotel of the century”. You hung on his arm, politely silent, offering agreeing nods and kind smiles when they’d look at you. They must’ve assumed, of course, that you two were an item, and for that brief, fleeting moment, you were thrilled by the idea.

Once he’d pushed open the door, allowing room for you to walk in, you realised that the room he’d led you into was the room he’d cracked the champagne in — except it had been expertly cleaned within a few hours. There were no crowds, no remnants, no sounds aside from a pair of breaths; yours and his. Although, if you listened hard enough, you thought you heard the dull, muted music from below. It sounded hazy and slower up here in this room.

The lock clicked into place and James had you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, his pencil-thin moustache tickling the sensitive flesh under your jaw. He whispered seductive words of veneration into the nape of your neck, praising your appearance between breaths and tastes of your salty flesh.

“Forgive my eagerness,” he whispered into your ear, before nipping at your skin. “I find you… irresistible.”

Delighted by the sensations, your lids fluttered. You extended your neck to him, allowing more. He kissed your neck over and over again and began sucking too hard in certain spots. You let out the tiniest little hums of discomfort, trying to stretch away from him then. However, somewhere deep in your core, you craved that pain, the burn of his suckling kisses.

“I want you to kiss me.” He declared, finally pulling away to gaze upon your face, like he was studying it. “Kiss me, but don’t hold back. I want to feel your passion.”

You nodded quickly, feigning all the courage in the world. Nervous? Who, me? Never! Your lips clashed together as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you could. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue out to swirl around yours, and you could taste the champagne that lingered on it like a fading memory. He deepened the kiss, moving further into your mouth and all you could do was moan into his. Silly girl, he must’ve thought.

His hand left your side, trailing further down. With a cruel tug, James yanked your stocking from its front clip, tearing a generous hole in the nylon, then repeated the process with the other. You broke the kiss to watch this fiery display of arousal in awe, feeling a new, unfamiliar fire in your stomach. You’d been aroused before — hell, even pleasured yourself shyly under the sheets… but the hunger. The hunger that clawed at your insides with reckless abandon was speaking in a foreign tongue… but it was one that you wanted to translate into physicality.

“Oooh, easy tiger…”

His fingers splayed out over your now bare thighs, exploring the smooth skin ravenously. As he neared your centre slit, he snarled in response — whether intentionally responding to the animalistic nickname you’d given him, or because he’d felt the slippery nectar dripping from between your legs, you couldn’t know. You thought it might be the latter. You hoped it was.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you to wobble forward with want. He made a beeline to the nearby alcohol cart that had been arranged near the door and poured amber liquid into one of the glasses and golden champagne into another. He brought the darker coloured one to his lips.

“Mmm…” He growled as he swallowed, locking eyes with you, walking confidently towards the nearby chair. Though his head was turned away from his destination, he didn’t stumble, just gracefully sunk down into the chaise lounge without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.

You were in awe of this man’s finesse, of his charm, and the adoration for him displayed all over your cheeks. You didn’t need to bring out your compact to know that the flush had travelled down your neck, and your pretty little doe-eyes were as wide as saucers. He set the glass of champagne down on a nearby end table, presumably where it would stay until you reached for it.

“What’s underneath that ravishing dress, hm?” He asked. You gathered your lips to one side in a coy expression.

“Let’s see,” you tittered. "My bra and my knickers. And…. A pair of torn stockings and shoes, if you’re a specifics kinda’ guy…” You knew he was.

He waited.

You raised your brows, cocking your head to the side in affirmation — that was all. You were a woman of style after all. In this outfit? You wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset or a slip. Besides, corsets were for stuffy old broads nowadays. Everyone was wearing bras.

“Take it all off. Everything but the dress.”

Surely, the dress would be the first thing to go? It was an odd request, even for your virgin experience. You’d heard stories of men and their covetous desires. The idea of keeping the biggest article of clothing on seemed unorthodox, but you weren’t about to question his demands.

Obediently, you bent down and undid the buckles of your shoes, stepping out of them carefully. With a shy bat of your lashes, you turned away from him, shimmying and shrugging out of the straps of your dress until they fell into the crooks of your arms. Reaching around behind your back, you unlatched the satin bra, letting your supple breasts spring free of the compression.

Your heart pounded as you bent down again to slide the satin underwear over the curve of your ass and down your equally satiny thighs, giving the man behind you the tiniest previews of what was to come. Facing him again, you held your dress at your chest, carefully sliding the straps back up your arms one by one.

With a drink in one hand, the other stretched over the back of the loveseat and a delightedly smug expression, James watched your undergarments fall to the floor piece by piece. His cock throbbed in his pants, the thick fabric doing a damned good job at keeping the beast at bay. Free of everything, your dress hung a little different now, and his black eyes were aflame with the realisation. You swayed back and forth, the strands of sequins brushing lightly against your thighs.

As you bent down one final time, reaching for the nylons, came his voice. “Leave those.”

After a small sip, he pat his thigh twice with his free hand; the sound of his palm snapping against the taut fabric atop his thigh echoed in the room. For a brief, insecure second, you were frozen. A deer in the headlights. Except the headlights weren’t headlights, they were the eyes of the hungriest tiger you’d ever seen and you’d already succumbed to your fate the moment he locked the door.

“Come to daddy.”

You shuddered in response, your tummy doing backflips like an acrobat in a circus act. His words held such command and purpose, you had no choice but to saunter over to him, swaying your hips a little more than you usually did. He seemed to enjoy that; a tiny smirk played out over his mouth.You pressed your knees against his, struggling to not come undone at the contact. With a deep breath, you manoeuvred yourself in between his parted legs.

“Good…” He replied. “Atop my thigh, my pet.”

With your flesh turning a deep shade of red, you walked over his thigh, resting one knee on the edge of the cushion. You felt the air on your cunt, the chill of the room touching the wetness and making it tingle. You looked down at his groin. The fabric was pulled taut. You could make out the faintest outline of a swelling cock underneath —

You snapped your attention back to him, embarrassed. He downed the rest of his drink, set it carelessly on the table next to your still-full champagne and lifted his hand to your legs. The pad of his middle finger caressed the back of your knee, sending a shockwave through your entire body. No man had ever touched you like that, the sensation was erotic and overwhelming to your core. Inch by inch, his fingers trailed higher.

You reached for the champagne, and despite the sting in your nose, you downed the entire glass, setting it back on the small table.

“Lower.” He commanded, amused.

You obeyed, bending your knees.

“Lower.” He repeated.

He’d lined it up perfectly; James pressed that same finger into your slit as you lowered, wiggling it further in, then flicking it up to your clit. You let out a shrill mewl. Your knees nearly buckled as he circled the bundle of nerves, bringing the sensitivity higher. You squeezed your eyes shut as hot, salty tears bit at the corners. Your muscles had begun to quiver, overwhelmed by the strain of hovering over his thigh. His skilful fingers manipulated your cunt, simply playing with your wetness.

James abruptly yanked you all the way down, forcing you into a straddle. Your cunt was spread, pressed tight against his thigh and you needed no instruction on what to do next.

“Ooooh,” he growled, watching your hips as they ground your weeping cunt against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. “Good girl. Your desire is intoxicating… show me how much you want me…. yes.”

James chuckled, knowingly. Despite your best effort in trying to suppress your moans, he saw through the act. The skin of your neck had flushed red. Your soft jaw hung slack, tiny little moans floating out every time he touched you. Your sweet little eyes rolled back into your head every time he so much as flexed his thigh muscle. He knew the effect he had on you. Every slight movement from him ground against your cunt, sending shuddering waves of heat into your core.

“I said,” he started, gripping your jaw hard between his thumb and pointer finger. “Show me how much you want it, my dear.”

You winced, but allowed instinct to kick in. You began bobbing up and down on his thigh, whimpering as the wet spot on the fabric spread. The slick glistened on the fibres as you ground back and forth. Eventually, the friction of dry against wet lessened, and you found a rhythm, bouncing. His leg bumped into your sensitive, aching clit over and over again.

As you rode his thigh, James gripped your dress at the shoulders, kissing up along the curves of your arm. There was a warmth on your skin, a tugging, though you were too deep in the sensations to pull away. A cacophony of ticking began; tiny beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and dancing into crevices where they’d never be found again.

When you finally glanced down, a look of shock painted across your features. Your dress had been ripped at the seams, the delicately beaded fabric now hanging limply at your hips in a mass. James looked on, adoringly, his hungry, inky eyes dancing over your exposed breasts, and the way your nipples had hardened in the slightly colder air.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you frightened?” He asked. The lilt in his question was too revealing, but alas, who was he to deny the delicious aroma of fear?

“Who me?” You laughed breathily, like a fool. Sweat pooled in the hollows of your collarbone. No time like the present, you thought. You’d reached the point of no return, and surely if you didn’t say something now, he’d find out when he took you. “Oh, no, it’s just that… I’ve never been with a man is all.”

The realisation swept across his face, the expression telling all the tales of how he felt about being the first man to have a woman. “Aaahhh…. And do you…. wish to be…?”

“With you?” You swatted the air dismissively. “More than anything.”

“Brave. Brave girl.” With that, he scooped you up in his strong arms, and got up from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you effortlessly to the table. The journey was short, and before you knew it, your bare back was laid on cool wood. Your legs hung off the edge, and with one strong yank, James pulled the tattered dress from your hips, tossing it heedlessly behind him.

“Knees up — heels on the table.” He then ordered, sternly. Pulling your knees towards your chest, you adjusted yourself on the table and swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. Short of hearing the snap of latex gloves, you were left feeling like you were about to be examined by a doctor.

James disappeared from your view then, sinking down below the edge of the table. With nothing to look at, you gazed up at the ceiling with wide eyes, anticipating the next move. When it came, you let out a yelp, your legs closing on either side of his head. James had pressed his lips against her, peppering little kisses against your centre, and after a moment or two of that, opened his mouth to slip his tongue deliberately along the folds. The sensation of his tongue darting out to taste you was enough to send you to the moon, but he continued, delving further into you. Your legs opened again, exposing more of your aching cunt to him.

You felt his nose press into the mound of flesh as he flattened his tongue on your clit, lapping at it hungrily. Your body responded by squirming, a desperate whimper pouring from your throat. His hands were suddenly on your pillowy thighs, holding you tight where you were. With a vibrating groan, his tongue abruptly changed techniques; he began flicking the tip of his tongue into the underside of your clit. Your moans - though they were teetering on the edge of screams — bounced off the walls of the empty room.

In a delirium of ecstasy, you’d gripped the hair at the crown of his head, pulling it hard. He grunted into your pussy, sending vibrations deep into your core. His hand came down on the side of your ass with a resounding slap. You shuddered violently, your sopping cunt clenching tight against his chin, wetting it as your first orgasm came in sudden waves. James slipped his tongue deep inside of your entrance, feeling the pulses as they gradually subsided. Before pulling away to look at the flower in front of him, and what he’d done to it, he let out a throaty, pleased growl. A small puddle had formed on the table, your slick arousal leaking from the hole like sweet nectar dripped from the centre of a fruit.

“Ahhh…” he exhaled. “Divine.”

His eyes darting to the side, James made a mental note to have Miss Evers re-polish the table. After this, it would certainly need it.

The way he gazed upon you, seemingly satisfied with just how wet you were drove your head into the table with a thunk. You arched your back with a whimper, somehow still unsatisfied. From the side, came his voice. “Use your words, my darling.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled that you hadn’t heard him move around. You swallowed, looking up at him piteously. For a moment you dug deep into your own mind, battling with coherency to find the correct words. And, disappointingly, all you could muster was: “I… want more.”

“Yes….. yes, you do.”

Gently, with two fingers, James pulled your jaw towards him, moving your head so that your cheek laid against the table. There was a certain predatory nature in his gaze as he looked at you. “Open up,” he demanded, his thumb prodding your lips. “That’s my girl…”

He smeared his thumb along your warm, strong tongue, depressing it and feeling around the rest of your mouth. He glided over your smooth teeth, digging the fleshy pad into the decently sharp points of your incisors.

“Don’t bite me… too hard.”

With that, he began unbuckling his trousers with one hand, sliding the belt from its loop. You watched intently as this handsome, charming stranger handled himself; taking himself out his undergarments and his trousers, roughly adjusting his cock so that it was free for your devouring. He closed his hand along the length, pumping it several times. A generous droplet of precum leaked from the red, sweating tip and before it had time to string away, he guided his cock to your mouth.

He smeared your lips over the head, coating it in his own dripping seed. His hips then bucked the length into your mouth, bringing a whimpering gag from deep within your throat. Gentle, he thought. With the way your mouth eagerly worked him, doing your best to suck and lap at his aching cock, that thought was whisked away seconds later.

Wet sounds filled the room as James fucked your pretty little mouth, your lipstick smearing waxy, blood-coloured streaks on the shaft of his cock. In your peripheral, it was quite a gruesome sight, but he seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to watch.

You closed your lips around the tip as it slid out, letting your tongue flatten on the underside of it. You felt every throbbing vein, but every time your tongue or lips grazed that one, the protruding one, James making sounds that you’d only ever dreamed of hearing a man make. It was a breathy, higher pitched moan, or a choking gasp, and each time he did, the corners of your lips curled up into a smile, delighted with eroticism. You pressed your tongue hard into it, sliding it up and down. From this angle, you realised, you couldn’t do much else… but perhaps that’s how he’d wanted it.

You remembered his previous mention of biting, so thinking that it was something he favoured, you began toying with his sensitivity by grading your teeth along his shaft. He hissed, ceasing his thrusts to crane his neck back, revelling in the amalgam of pain and pleasure.

“Harder,” he demanded.

You furrowed your brows in concern, daunted by the new territory that lay ahead. You closed your mouth a little more, the ridges of your teeth gently clamping down on his swollen cock. Suddenly, James gripped your face hard, squeezing your cheeks together like a fish. You winced as he leaned forward to hiss in your open mouth, his demeanour suddenly callous and dreadful. “I said not too hard.”

He released it sharply as you did, and punishingly bucked his hips into your wanting mouth. His thrusts were quick, and marvelled at the tiny, pathetic gags that broke from your throat every time he hit the back of it. You were so delicate, but so… willing.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock from your lips with a sick, filthy slurping sound, and holding it in his right hand, moved back to the head of the table. His breaths were ragged, hungry. You blinked away the tears that had accumulated.

“You nearly ruined my makeup…” You whispered, wiping the slimy collection of drool and precum from your chin.

“I’ll do more than that.” Gripping you at the knees, James yanked you down the table’s length, your ass slipping easily against the polished wood.

Briefly, you felt the velvety hot tip of his cock teasing your cunt. He slid it between your wet folds, exhaling loudly at the slickness that greeted him. He teased you with a thrust of his hips, the tip of his head slipping slightly. You whined as he pulled away.

“What did I say about words?”

Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you moaned shakily, gritting your teeth. “Don’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Tease me…”

“Oh, but it’s fun. I’ll do so until you beg for it.”

“PLEASE!” You howled a moment later, taking fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him closer. You wiggled your hips at his groin, your cunt trying to find his cock desperately. You writhed around like a cat in heat, whimpering and leaking more cum onto his expensive mahogany table. In one of your hip sways, the hot tip brushed past your entrance, leaving a springy line of pre-cum in its path. In response, you rocked your hips against his, trying to pull him in further. The sensation had you gasping, rolling your head from side to side. “Please, please, please, I simply mu—

Your screams faded away into the back of his mind, dull and muted like they came from behind a brick wall. James watched your lewd, begging performance with a bemused smirk, chuckling through closed lips. Every anguished whimper, every desperate plea that his lack of action brought forward from your lips seemed to send you closer to the edge of madness. He enjoyed that. Too much, perhaps.

He reached up, running a single finger down the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse throbbing away beneath the skin. Such liveliness, such… James swallowed, suppressing the dark sludgy desire that clawed at his insides. His urges had been worse and worse lately, and now with the hotel open… Not now… not with her.

“What do I need to say?”

“Nothing more.” James took hold of his cock, stroking his fingers over the tip, dragging the slickness along his shaft. He exhaled, lining himself up. At first, James popped only the tip in and out, playing with his food. Each thrust, he slipped a little farther in. Out of the kindness of his heart, James was gradually getting you used to the feeling of fullness, but once he felt your slick walls, he grit his teeth. He had told you that he was a gentleman first and foremost, but… such is life. He swiftly sank his hard length into you with little friction. You were soaked and all it took was one determined thrust.

For a moment, you felt nothing but a searing pain as the thickness of his cock stretched your cunt wide open. Tears welled in your eyes, a cry bouncing against your rolled lips. The stinging was replaced with a dull ache, and finally, a warmth.

“My, my…” He admired. “Taking it so well already.”

You nodded feebly, doing your best to muster a smile amidst your punishing euphoria. Had you not been as wet as you were, it would’ve been excruciating. And when he started pounding, it almost was.

James must’ve sensed your discomfort because he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb circling your clit. Mercilessly. You cried out like a wounded animal and that seemed to only drive him to continue, stroking his finger down length of your pussy before returning his attention back to the bundle of nerves. Your hips swayed back and forth on the table, desperately trying to get away from the pressure that was blossoming deep within your cunt, just above your bladder. It felt like a tangled mess of fire, and your whole centre was aflame.

You shakily lifted your head, watching as his pelvis smashed into yours, over and over again, his cock slipping easily from your aching, drenched cunt. Your hands climbed his torso. You fiddled with the buttons until his shirt hung open lifelessly, like two ghosts on either side of his body. He moaned as your fingertips explored his stomach, his ribcage, and then curled around the small of his back, forcing their way up underneath the restraint of his clothes. You felt uneven skin, the way that flesh raised once it had healed over deep lacerations.

James suddenly picked up speed, drilling into you harder and that released something in you. You felt devious, immoral, and wanted to howl like a banshee. In fact, you did. You let out a shrill, dirty moan, the kind you heard coming from those brothels as you passed them by. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes before streaming down your temples, disappearing into the hair that laid on the table. Your fingers flexed, nails digging into his back and leaving crescent-moon shaped indentations amongst his scars. Feeling your clenching, he growled and lolled his head back in ecstasy.

You pulled your leg up, pressing your nylon-covered toe against his jawline and gave it a little push.

You heard his breath hitch.

You pushed harder, craning his neck off to the side. His moan said more than any words could’ve. With a devious smirk, you drug your toe down the length of his throat, pressing hard into his windpipe.

James jerked his hips harder and harder until you felt his cock twitch inside you, hot and angry, the first spurt of his orgasm planted deep inside you. He then backed his hips out slightly, just enough for the thick ropes of cum to cover your cunt. His cock bumped into your clit with tiny thrusts, forcing every last milky drop onto you. James straightened up, clenching his fists tightly.

“Ravished. Deflowered. Desecrated!” His words echoed loudly off the walls.

His arms came down with a loud thud on either side of your head, his shirt acting as blinders. There was nothing else in that moment; just you and him and the way he’d claimed you, taken every ounce of innocence you had left.

His hands traced along your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. The black thoughts wormed into his brain, screaming for sating attention. Which weapon would he use? Where he'd cut first - an artery? Arterial blood was always so… satisfying. Would her screams be as such? The final moment, the look in her eye? Perhaps, he could hear those desperate, soprano shrieks if he just…

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Your lids peeled open, one by one. The blazing light that filtered in through the crack in the deep red curtains burned. You hardly remembered being in a hotel room… alone, and the hotel room you remembered wasn’t the one you were in now. This one looked more or less like any new hotel room that you could’t afford. Moving yourself into an upright position, you let out a depressed bleat… the headache. How much champagne did you have last night? You couldn’t remember.

Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you stumbled towards the door. “Just a minute!”

You were completely nude. That wouldn’t do to answer the door in. Panicked, you looked around the empty hotel room, considering the bed sheets for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a Praising the gods for the robe that had been hung on a hook by the door as you slipped your arms into it and hurriedly tied it round your waist. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the framed photo near the door; your hair was a wreck, makeup smeared, and there were the faintest whispers of new bruises along your collarbone and neck.

The doorway was empty, as was the hallway.

Except for the box at the floor.

Despite giving a complete stranger your virginity last night, you had more sense than to bend down and open a foreign box. Clutching the robe at your chest, you began gingerly prying open the edge of it with your foot, wiggling your big toe underneath the fine cardboard until the lid popped off.

Inside, carefully arranged and wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, laid a dress; a dress that was terribly similar to your own, but considerably more expensive. Atop it, a package of fine silk nylons. And atop those, in exquisitely elegant penmanship, a handwritten note lay. It read:

Thank you for a splendid evening, my dear. My deepest apologies about your dress — please accept this as a replacement. As for the flowers, it only seemed fair, considering the circumstances.

xoxo James P. March

You picked the box up, again checking the hallway to see if the deliverer was there. Still, empty. With a sigh, you shut the door, leaning against it. As you leaned there, holding the box in your arms, the corner of it digging into the middle of your neck, you winced at a sudden pang of soreness.

Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly noon!? Oh, RATS!”

You pushed yourself off the door and changed hurriedly, throwing the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor. Mother! Mother would be furious and nothing was more terrifying than her rage. You’d rather be chopped up and filleted than have to deal with Mother’s anger, even as an adult. You pulled the nylons up as far as they could go without clips, and snatched the mink stole off the bed.

You threw open the heavy door and turned to your left, hoping for the best. You began running as quickly as you could down the lengthy hallway, barefoot. The straps of your shoes were hooked around your middle finger. With no markers, and no indication of where you were going, anxiety climbed your throat. Somehow though, after winding back and forth and up and down for what felt like hours, you managed to find the lobby.

As you emerged from the hallway, it was considerably less busy than last night. Where the band had been, waiting chairs and tables had been placed, a courtesy for guests waiting to check in. The cleaning team of the Hotel Cortez was marvellous, you had to admit. As you ducked your hips away from the edge of a chair, you spotted him. James March was leaned against the bar, chatting gayly with the bartender. The bartender nodded, swiping a rag over the spot directly in front of him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of James, perspiring. Much like you were. So it hadn’t all been a dream. He looked the same as he had last night, no hint of a hangover or fatigue. Just… charming. You inhaled and headed for the door.

“A perfect fit!” He called out from the balcony, his glass raised in a cheers. A few guests turned, searching for the voice. You jumped. The man had a talent for startling you — you’d give him that. You turned, your brows upturned in the middle, asking silently for clarification.

“The dress!”

“Oh! Yes! It does…. Thank you! It’s beautiful, Mr. March!”

“How’s your neck!?” He asked, lowering his head slightly.

The question threw you off. “….fine, but I really must be going, Mr. March! Bye!”

“Come back to the Hotel Cortez any time, my darling! As my guest.”

James watched you hurry out the door, knowing that if you did come back for a second time… it would be the last time.

#James Patrick March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #AHS Hotel #james march x reader #myfics

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arealphrooblem · 11 months

Note

Hi!! First off I just want to say that this is my new favorite writing blog on tumblr!! I'm so grateful for whatever strings the universe pulled that led me here. I'm literally addicted to every single thing you've written here. I swear I've read Mutually Assured Destruction like ten times within the past 24 hours.

I was wondering, if you find the free time and the inspiration, if you could write a villain x medic/civilian snippet? Maybe Medic accidentally witnessed villain's crime so villain can't let them just wander around freely since medic works for the hero agency, but also doesn't want to kill medic since medic is useful?

Thank you so much! I've always loved the idea of Villain x Medic so here you go!

CW: Kidnapping

“You know my face.”

The medic knew this day would come. Still, they froze in the doorway of the living room, keys dangling in their hands, blood frosting over in sheer dread. The villain sat with their legs crossed in the medic’s favorite armchair, the fire place unlit. The room in semi-darkness, the only light a glow from a street-lamp.

They didn’t ask how the villain knew their address. They should have taken Hero’s offer to leave under witness protection, but their whole life was built here. They couldn’t just leave and start over.

“I haven’t revealed it,” the medic said.

“Yet,” the villain amended. “I’m sure you would for the right price. Or under the right pressure.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t. But I am not going to risk it.”

The lamp beside the couch switched on. The medic flinched away from the sight, eyes trained on the coat rack by the door. As if mattered anymore if they saw the villain’s face again. As if they hadn’t doomed themselves the first time.

Footsteps creaked over the old wood floors. The medic took slow deep breaths, holding it for four counts and releasing it. A trick they had taught people afraid of IV needles to calm their racing heart.

The time to run had long since passed. And even if it hadn’t, the villain most definitely had people outside lying in wait for such an escape.

Hands that tipped the medic’s chin to meet that dangerous gaze.

“You’re going to kill me,” the medic said. It was not a question.

An eyebrow raised. “You sound very calm about that.”

“My career has taught me how to recognize and accept things that aren’t in my control. Right now there is nothing I can do to stop you.”

“This is true.”

The villain studied them, thumb brushing absently against the curve of their bottom lip. The darkness of their eyes felt unfathomable, like the Marianas Trench. Like the deepest part of the ocean, full of wonder and terror.

“I am not going to kill you,” the villain said finally. “I owe you my life. And I always repay my debts. But you know my face.”

The medic swallowed thickly against the barrage of options that opened up. The villain could blind them, torture them into insanity, cut out their tongue. All of the above. The villain’s hand slips across their cheek to cup the back of the medic’s head. A possessive gesture, they noted with a shiver.

“You are coming with me. Whether it be conscious or unconscious, I leave up to your . . . control.”

Relief warred with new fear. “Where are you taking me?” they asked. “What happens to me when we get there?”

“Questions I will happily answer in the car,” said the villain, their hand sliding down the medic’s

neck before retreating. “Hand me your phone and your keys and then go pack your things. You have ten minutes.”

The medic stood rooted to the spot. This was real, this was happening. And it yet it still felt like a bad dream. Ten minutes to pack their life up? Ten minutes?

“Tick tock, darling,” crooned the villain, holding their hand out.

Numbly, the medic dropped their phone and keys into the villain's hand and took robotic steps towards their bedroom. Clothes were easy to grab and stuff into the suitcase. As were their birth certificate and other identity papers. Personal items, less so. Medic spent precious minutes at their bookshelf, picking a well thumbed classic from their childhood, their most referenced medical texts, and a novel they hadn’t started yet.

The pressure of time throbbed in the back of their head, making it difficult to think rationally about what they needed. They ducked into the bathroom, grabbing their contact case and solution, their toothbrush. Then they stood in the middle of their bedroom, frantically trying to think of what they couldn’t live without.

“Times up.”

The villain’s voice came from behind, causing the medic to jump out of their skin.

“Zip it up and let’s go.”

The villain’s car lay hidden in the shadows of the back alley. A dangerous looking driver waiting for them, their cigarette glow the only light. The villain opened the backseat of the car for Medic with a mocking flourish.

It was their last opportunity to run, but the medic knew a shot in the back waited for them if they tried it. So, dread sitting heavy in their stomach, they climbed in. The villain took the seat next to them, giving out curt orders to the driver in a language the medic didn’t recognize.

The nagging horror that the medic forgot something important haunted them. They leaned their head against the window, mentally walking through their house, trying to remember. But the fear churning in their blood made it so difficult.

“I’m taking you to my compound,” said the villain, almost conversationally. As if detailing the itinerary for a date. “I have a room set up for you, as well as a med bay. You can resume your work taking care of my mercenaries.”

The medic listened with half an ear, watching the wave of street lamps pass them by. What were they missing?

“No objections to that?” the villain asked, bemused.

They passed a park, one the medic had many birthday parties in as a child, and the sudden zing of memory made them gasp.

“Stop! We have to go back!” they cried.

The driver didn’t so much as flinch.

“Go back?" The villain laughed. "Too late for that, doctor. You should have protested before you climbed into this car."

"I forgot something!"

"Whatever it is can be replaced," the villain said with a dismissive wave of their hand.

"It's not replaceable. Please."

Desperation clawed at their throat but the villain remained unmoved.

"If it were so important, one would think it would be the first thing you packed, not the first thing you forgot. You will have to learn to live without it."

The medic closed their eyes the rest of the journey. They couldn't bear to look at Villain's face.

"Do you regret it?"

The villain sat upon the examination bed, looking almost innocent.

It had been a week since the medic was taken. Their life had changed so drastically that the normality of the med bay, of the tools they had spent years around, clanged like a discordant note. They threw themselves into their work, demanding physicals for the Villain's mercenaries to establish a baseline of health. These people, so used to sewing their own wounds, grew awkward around the medic’s soft and attentive care. Some refused to come.

The villain showed up last, a new laceration on their ribs. They sat, spine straight and unflinching as medic carefully cleaned the wound and bandaged it.

"Regret what?" the medic asked.

" . . .Saving my life."

Their hands stilled for a moment, hovering over the wound. It was a tricky question and the medic wasn't sure how to answer it honestly.

"I would have regretted the person that I'd become if I had let you die," they said finally.

"Oh? Most people would consider it a net positive, preventing all my future damage."

"It's not up to me to decide who deserves to live and who doesn't."

"I beg to differ. You hold people's lives in your hands every day. Who else, if not you?"

The medic glanced up at the villain, who stared at them with open-faced fascination, rather than the usual dispassion.

"I don't think any one person should have that power," they said pointedly.

The villain smiled, a slow curving movement. "A pity. You could be terrifying indeed."

The medic swallowed something strange dancing in their gut. "You're lucky I'm not."

"Indeed I am."

They finished the examination without further conversation. The villain watched with quiet fascination as the medic sterilized their tools, folded unused bandages away, updated the Villain's medical records.

"What did you leave behind?" they asked softly.

"My life," the medic said, tersely, as they tapped on the keyboard.

The villain was undeterred. "What did you remember in the car?"

The medic paused at that, unsure if they should answer. They didn't want the villain's mockery over it. But lies rarely went over well with the villain -- the medic had cleaned up the wounds left behind from that.

"A box under my bed," they replied, keeping their eyes locked on the computer. "It had my keepsakes in it. Family photos, birthday cards, that sort of thing."

"Sentiment," the villain said skeptically. "That's what got you so worked up?"

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," they snapped, standing up.

The villain watched them leave and the medic felt their gaze like a laser all the way down the hall.

Two days later a painfully familiar box sat on the examination table. Scribbled in sharpie on the cardboard was a message:

I do understand.

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #villain x medic #my writing #asks #writeblr

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lila-lou · 4 months

Text

✨Broken✨

Summary: Dean made a huge mistake and had to deal with the consequences.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt, -but some fluff in between

Word Count: 1882

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“Goodbye, Dean Winchester”, you giggled as you briskly turned towards your front door. Dean gave you the biggest Smile you had ever see on anyone's face. He shook his head in amusement, his eyes shining. “You’re something else (y/n)”, he chuckled and continued grinning while opening the door of his car. “Oh, you fucking bet!”, You winked at him before parting ways. At least for tonight.

Just a Date. One single date. A single evening. Without sex, without kissing. It only took four hours for you to fall head over heels in love with him. Four hours of your laughter, your sparkling eyes and your sassy jokes were all it took for Dean to fall head over heels in love with you.

3 missed calls.

6 missed calls and 2 messages.

13 missed calls and 8 messages.

"Just leave me alone!", you cursed, throwing your phone in the corner of your dingy motel room as tears steadily streamed down your cheeks. You sat on the floor with your face in your arms and your legs bent, leaning your back against the creaky bed. You never imagined that you would be sitting here like a heap of misery, crying your eyes out. Not because of your fiancée. Not because of Dean.

The two of you had been together for 6 years, engaged for a year and were actually planning on getting married in two months. You had come to terms with his lifestyle, his living situation and all the dangers, the monsters and all that shit that came with his way of life. You sacrificed everything normal for this man… and for what?

Dean was the love of your life and until three days ago you thought he felt the same way, but you were obviously wrong.

8 missed calls.

12 missed calls and 8 messages.

16 missed calls and 18 messages.

You immediately regretted it when you looked at your phone after a way too long shower. Not just because of all the messages and missed calls, but also because of your wallpaper. It showed the happiest moment of your life. A photo Sam had taken shortly after Dean put an engagement ring on your finger. You camped in the mountains of Montana. Dean had waited for the most beautiful sunset of all and proposed to you in front of a beautiful, large lake. As the two of you lay hugged in front of the campfire in the twilight, Sam took advantage of your inattention to take this great snapshot.

“It suits you”, Dean stroked your slim fingers. “It´s beautiful”, you whispered, barely audible, your voice trembling slightly. Your back was pressed against his chest and you were sitting between his legs. With sparkling eyes, you turned to him and looked him in the eyes. “I love you”, you whispered. “I love you”, he replied, just as lovestruck as you. You were so sweet and cheesy that even Sam felt sick at the sight of you two.

As said, the most beautiful and happiest moment of your life.

Wearing only a towel, you sat down on the bed and looked at your hand with the ring. Was it all just lies? Was he that good at hiding his true self?

You had already forgiven him for so much and overlooked so much. Even when he almost killed you as a demon, you didn't stop loving him.

But it was different now.

“Dean… you really up for this? I don’t know if this is such a good idea“, you mumbled as you got out of the shower together 10 days ago. "If not now, when? (y/n), I love you. I couldn't imagine a future with any other woman and I'm sure we would be great parents. Please Sweetheart, give it a shot. Or better yet, let me get to take a shot”, he wiggled his Eyebrows, before taking your hands in his.

“Please, Baby”.

You looked at him doubtfully and there was silence for a few minutes before you took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s try for a little Dean then”, you sighed, still a little hesitant. It was the second biggest smile you'd ever had to see on Dean's lips. His arms wrapped around your body, almost crushing you as he spun you through the air once before carrying you to your bedroom.

You looked at the clock and started getting dressed. It was time to leave the motel and move on. You didn't know where to go yet. You didn't know how long either. What you knew was that you needed space.

Distance from everything and everyone.

You still hoped that Dean had been possessed, hexed or cursed in some way, but based on his and Sam's texts, that was obviously not the case. Drunk, yes. However, nothing more.

You've been gone for four weeks now. Four weeks in which you didn't let anyone hear from you, in which you were constantly on the move so no one could find you and four weeks in which Dean slowly but surely became sick from worry.

"Dean!", Sam knocked on his older brother's door. Dean hasn't come out of his room in three days except to pee. He didn't eat anything, he didn't talk, he just vegetated.

“Come on, buddy. You have to eat something! Starving won't bring her back either”. After fifteen minutes, Sam left the plate in front of Dean's door with a sigh and went back into the kitchen to eat his burger.

Two more days passed before Sam took advantage of his brother's pee break to push him against the bathroom wall with his forearm on his throat. "What the hell is wrong with you! Dean, I know (y/n) meant a lot to you, but look at you!", Sam snapped at his brother. Sam was actually the quieter of the two, but he couldn't see how much Dean was letting himself go. He had probably already lost at least 15 pounds, stopped shaving and was basically just a wreck.

With a firm tug, Dean released himself from Sams grip and looked at him angrily.

“You don´t know shit! I lost her, Sammy! I fucking broke her heart and lost the best thing that ever happened to me. You didn't see her eyes. Shit, how could I be so stupid", Dean's voice grew louder and he found himself angrily punching a hole in the wooden bathroom door. “Fucking shit”, he rubbed his face hard as his knuckles bled. Sam sighed before pulling his brother into a tight hug. Of course, Dean fought back at first, but he was just too weak and too sad, so he allowed it, while a few tears ran down his cheeks.

It took another two days before Sam finally got Dean to shower. A week until he was eating somewhat normally again. Two weeks until he came out of his room again. Three until he went hunting again for the first time. But even after a total of 9 weeks, no smile found its way onto his face.

Just like with you.

Nevertheless, you had to overcome yourself, gather all your courage and push open the heavy iron door of the bunker.

You did your best to go downstairs quietly, but Sam, who was about to go jogging, spotted you immediately.

“(y/n)!”

Even though it was tearing you up inside to be here again, you gave Sam a small smile.

“Hey”, you murmur, letting him hug you tightly once you reach the bottom. You couldn't stop your eyes from glazing over. “I missed you, little one”. Sam kissed your head before letting you out of his embrace and studying you. You looked absolutely exhausted and tired.

It took him a few seconds to find his voice again. “He´s in the garage”, Sam said quietly, looking at you with pity. “I’m... just here to get my things”, you cleared your throat and started to walk towards your shared room, but Sam gently held your arm. “I know he made big mistakes (y/n). And I definitely don't want to protect him. You have every right to leave him, but please tell him you're okay. Please let him say goodbye to you”. Sam’s voice was gentle and soothing, but even his compassionate words, for both Dean and you, didn’t change your broken heart. “I… I can’t, Sam”, you slowly pulled your arm away from him.

“(y/n)... please. It breaks him... Please... He's my brother”.

With tears in your eyes, you shook your head and wrapped your arms around your body. "I'm sorry Sammy. I wish you nothing but the best”, you somehow tried to smile before going into your old room.

When you got there, you were briefly surprised to find no chaos. The room has never been as tidy as it is now, but your heart has never hurt as much as it does now when you look at your bed.

With tears streaming down your cheeks and quiet, barely audible sobs escaping your throat, you grabbed the few things you had from the room.

Carrying a large, fully-packed bag, you looked at the picture of yourself on Dean's nightstand, you swallowed hard and walked out the door, your back first as you pulled the door shut. You wiped away your tears with your free hand as you felt something hard against your back.

“(y/n)”.

His voice gave goosebumps all over your body. It was so deep, rough, scratchy. Emotionally charged. Full of regret and sadness. And yet you heard a glimmer of hope. Maybe you wanted to hear that too. Who knows.

You both stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds until Dean tried to turn you around with his hand on your waist, but you immediately slapped his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me! Don’t you dare touch me ever again!”, you hissed loudly. Tears immediately welled up in your eyes again. Dean didn’t flinch at your reaction. He wasn't surprised and couldn't blame you. His eyes also slowly filled with tears when he saw the bag over your shoulder.

Dean wanted to take you in his arms, hold you close to him and never let you go. He wanted to show you how much he loved you, show you what a big mistake he had made, prove to you that something like that would never happen again. He would do anything to make up for what he did to you. You were his everything. The love of his life. He wanted to build a future with you. He wanted to have a baby with you. A family. You were his world.

But when he saw the bitterness through all your tears, he knew he had lost. The curtain closed. That's it. The end. He had destroyed everything.

“I love you (y/n)”, he whispered, barely audible.

“You never did”, you replied with a dry throat, taking his hand and placing your engagement ring in it.

"Goodbye Dean Winchester".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Again, I'm thinking about writing a second or even third part. I guess I just can't stick with one-shots ._.

#jensen ackles #spn #dean winchester #dean x y/n #deanwinchtser #dean x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #spn fanart #sam x reader #supernatural #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #hurtful

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sc0tters · 7 months

Text

Forever Yours | Mat Barzal

summary: when Mat’s words send the argument too far it sends him into a day of true self reflection.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing.

word count: 3.41k

authors note: this request was really good and I tried to fulfil it as well as I could and do that little bit more for it too. It took my an embarrassingly long amount of time to write this but I think that it was all worth it in the end. I really did love this one so I’m hoping that you guys did too, so to those of you who do read it all, thank you.

Today was one of those days.

The one where you want to crawl into a ball and hope that if you shut your eyes tight enough you’ll wake up and realise that it was all just some bad dream.

Zack your youngest has been clinging to your side as he is going through teething. Then the twins who were weeks away from turning four were having the worst time of their lives. Whilst Oscar lost his teddy bear to the family lab Marley, Marcus only wanted his father who was far too busy preparing for the end of the season’s playoff run.

And that brings that to why you were having a bad day.

The crockpot decided to turn off at some point during the day so you no longer had dinner cooking, Amazon delivered your package that had the boys presents in it to the scary neighbour. The boys had you chasing them around publix because they kept on running away. And to top it all off you had dirty laundry that could have been coming out of your ears you had so much to do.

Which is why you were honestly giving yourself a pat on the back for getting Zack to sleep before Mat came home “daddy!” Marcus cheered running over to his father who came in the front door.

You wiped your hands on the kitchen cloth that was in front of you before you turned to where the noise had been coming from “hi love.” You yawned as your eyes grew heavy when the lack of sleep that you had began to catch up with you.

Mat furrowed his brows as he saw that the dinner table wasn’t even set yet “boys already eat?” He asked giving you a side hug.

A quick shake of your head had him scoffing “what the hell was so important today that you couldn’t get dinner ready for five thirty?” The hockey player had a rough day where he couldn’t seem to score a single goal during practice today and he brought that negative mood home with him “boys why don’t you go to the playroom?” You asked the twins sending their father a glare “we are not doing this with them here.” You warned as the boys ran off unaware of the glaring match that their parents held.

Mat crossed his arms as he tapped his foot against the floor “you haven’t answered my question yet.” His voice was condescending as it made you feel sick to your stomach.

You sighed “day just got really out of hand.” You mumbled picking up that he wasn’t going to be interested in hearing about what your sons had gotten up to today.

From the lost teeth to breakdowns in the grocery store, if you could name it the event probably happened.

Yet your words didn’t harbour the response you hoped “I don’t go to work for you guys to sit on your fucking asses all day!” Mat hadn’t noted when his frustration on his day morphed into frustration about you.

At this point one of the twins began crying “sitting on my ass?” You let out a laugh “do you know how hard it is to raise these boys myself?” You crossed your arms. You loved your kids but you were getting spread far too thin to keep yourself afloat.

Now you had both clearly gone too far “from where I stand it’s a pretty easy job.” Those words came with a slash of a knife that couldn’t exactly be taken back.

The look on your face in that very moment was one that Mat hadn’t seen before “if you think it is so easy then you take the kids tomorrow.” You proposed with a smirk “what are you gonna do?” Mat couldn’t believe that he was entertaining your thoughts.

Quickly the penny dropped in your head “the girls haven’t seen me in months. They want to go to a spa.” You raised your eyebrows with a smirk “deal.” Mat nodded his head as he reached his hand out to shake yours.

Part of you found it sad to believe that this was what you had gotten to “where are you going?” Mat wrapped his hand around your arm as you went to move away “to deal with our crying child because it clearly seems that you aren’t planning on it!” You shot back clenching your fists as you walked into the playroom.

Whilst you spent the night taking care of your boys tucking them in Mat was on the phone to Anthony debriefing the events that had happened “you were an ass dude.” The younger boy rolled his eyes as he rubbed his hand along his jaw.

Years ago you would have been Anthony’s dream girl, you were Anthony’s dream girl but when Mat won you the younger boy took his defeat gracefully “look I can’t exactly go and tell her I fucked up now?” Mat grumbled as he stared at the ring in the box.

Six years of dating and three kids to show for it yet no ring on your finger, or at least not yet “sorry dude.” Anthony apologised as he shook his head “you have to lie in the bed that you have made.” He shrugged seeing Mat’s face soaked in regret.

So Mat got to watch as he realised the consequences of his actions “I will say that she does love you just as much as she loves those kids.” As godfather to all three Tito could see just how much all three of those kids meant to you “so if y/n is y/n then I suggest you start looking for the checklists.” The comment about your organisation skills made both boys laugh.

Getting to watch you craft the step by step lists that you loved so much made Mat’s days “I should get going.” The Islander player sighed seeing the bedroom door open as your body appeared.

You sent Mat an awkward smile as you watched him throw his phone to the side “hey-” Mat spoke up as you went to your closet.

Pulling random items of clothing together you tried to ignore your boyfriend “the boys are down.” You announced grabbing onto some old band tee that you had found in your closet “so I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight.” Mat wanted to argue, he wanted you in his bed because as much as you so badly wanted him to feel a of the ounce of the stress that you had felt dealing with the rough parts of the single parenting lifestyle this week.

But instead he watched on “you sure?” Were the only words that he could find in his mind that his mouth would let out.

It was a far cry from the fight you wanted him to put up “I thought I’d been sleeping with a guy who wanted to see me today, but since that isn’t the case I’d rather be alone.” You sent Mat a nod feeling too tired to cause a fight tonight.

The guest bedroom was bleak in comparison to your bedroom. The walls were decorated yet the love that had been soaked into the walls of your room hadn’t been carried to the very room that you sat in.

Playing with the beaten up hem of the band tee you had grabbed only now realising the memories that had woven themselves into the stitched fabric.

This was more than just a simple shirt to you and Mat. This was the first shirt you stole from him, the shirt you were in when he asked you to move in. The one when you went into labour with Zack. If something could capture your relationship. It was that shirt.

ABBA blared through the speakers of your apartment as you danced to it. Mat had been on a road trip for the last two weeks and you being heavily pregnant you were in nothing but Mat’s shirt.

The boy ended up arriving quietly as you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the music “holy shit!” You clutched at your chest as you locked eyes with the boy “I was just starting to enjoy that show.” Mat frowned as he pushed off from against the doorframe.

His hands ran over your stomach as he smiled “missed you.” His words were soft as he kissed your lips.

You looked like a sight for sore eyes in his shirt “missed you too.” You smiled as you ran your finger over his cheek.

So you couldn’t help it when you stared in the mirror and watched on as tears welled in your eyes making you unlock your phone “momma.” You sobbed as the call connected “Mat and I had a fight.”

When Mat woke up that next morning the mix of the irritated looks on the twins faces and the lack of your presence on the other side of the bed served as a reminder for the events of the previous night.

Oscar was the first to speak up “we’re gonna be late.” He pointed to the clock making Mat’s eyes go wide “where is your mom?” Mat groaned rubbing his eyes as the sleep caught in his fingers.

Marcus pulled the note out of his pyjama shorts pocket “momma gave this to me.” Of course you had gone and kissed the boys before you left to head to New Jersey for the day.

𝒯𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓃𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒��𝓎 𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒵𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝑜𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝑒. 𝒟𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒.

Getting both boys dressed was one thing but almost forgetting that Zack was asleep in his cot truly took the cake “forgetting someone?” Oscar furrowed his eyebrows as he pointed at the picture of the three boys you had taken for Christmas “fuck me!” Mat pinched the bridge of his nose “swear jar!” The twins spoke at the same time as they watched Mat run back upstairs.

Mat had realised that he had truly screwed up when the boys didn’t even say goodbye to him when they left “tell mom we miss her.” Oscar mumbled as he let the car door shut with a slam behind him.

Zack was peacefully playing with the toy that Marcus had dropped into his hands “you okay buddy?” Mat looked into the rear view mirror to see that his youngest was now looking back at him “mama!” Zack cooed as he let out a giggle “I know, I miss her too.” The hockey player let out a sigh as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in front of him.

You let the warm water of the jacuzzi calm your nerves as you peacefully sipped on your mimosa “so what did Mat do?” Maisie asked as she cocked her head.

It pulled your attention away from the bubbling water “what makes you think that he did something?” You shot back ignoring her smirk “it’s been three years since we last went to the spa. What has your husband done to bring you back here?” Before kids the spa was a bimonthly tradition for the two of you.

Maisie sighed as you kept quiet “boyfriend and we fought.” You corrected her looking down at your bare ring finger “tell me what happened.” She reached out to hold your hand “basically-” you were cut off by the sound of your phone ringing “hello?” You asked quickly answering it.

“I know you said that Mr Barzal was picking the boys up today but the boys are still here.” It was forty minutes after the boys were meant to be picked up “I’ll be right there.” You cursed the universe as you got up.

Water ran down your body “Mat forgot the twins at school.” You explained shaking your head “I’m sorry but I have to-” stress made your cheeks turn red “go, I’ll come with.” Maisie didn’t even have you finish talking before she followed you out of there.

Mat bounced Zack in his arms as they walked back to the car “what does your mom want?” Mat furrowed his eyebrows to see that you had sent him twenty missed calls.

You didn’t let him get a word in “Mat you have done some stupid things in your life but this truly takes the cake.” You spat pinching the bridge of your nose.

Thankfully for you the twins always assumed that you were the one meant to pick them up so they didn’t realise that they had been forgotten about “hi dad!” Marcus giggled from the back of the car “shit.” Mat slapped his hand over his mouth “swear jar!”

Mat knew he had screwed up once more “Zack had a good check up and that ear infection is gone!” The hockey player let out an awkward sigh as he watched Zack babble on to himself.

You wanted to yell at him but for now you were going to have to remain quiet “we can talk about it at home.” You hung up before Mat could say anything more to you “I think momma’s gonna kill me.” Mat groaned shaking his head as he placed Zack into his car seat.

Maisie had kept you calm until she left wanting to give you a moment to gather your thoughts before Mat came home “mama!” Zack cooed as the front door opened.

He was happy on his fathers hip until he saw you “he didn’t take his bottle today.” Mat explained as Zack reached out to grab you “it’s because he’s teething.” You explained handing your baby the teething toy you had grabbed when you heard the door open.

That served as another reminder to Mat about your strengths as a parent “where are the boys?” Guilt began to consume him as he thought about what he had done to the twins “playroom.” You tilted your head in their direction.

Mat sent you a nod “can we talk?” He pleaded wanting everything to go back to how it was.

All of his teammates had sent him messages expressing how they were on your side because Mat fucked up “you go talk to your sons, I’m gonna feed this one.” You shook your head not agreeing with him “then we can talk.” You sent him a soft smile before you walked upstairs wanting to feed Zack in peace.

The twins were forever on your side no matter how much they missed their father “you know mom told Nana.” Oscar knew about his grandmother’s distaste for Mat. She always did believe that her daughter deserved more than a hockey player who was keeping her in New York.

Mat frowned at the news “I’m sorry I’ve been really shitty to you both.” He apologised watching the twins look at each other with a smirk “I know I’ll put another dollar in the swear jar.” He added in a predictable tone.

The twins got up when their father dropped his head to stare at the ground as he crouched in front of them “I think we can let you get a free pass.” Oscar announced wrapping his arms around Mat “but only if you go apologise to mom.” Marcus added on replicating his brothers actions “yeah I miss moms waffles.” Oscars complaints brought a smile to Mat’s face.

It made him laugh as he nodded “I think I can find a way to make sure you guys get those.” The boys let out a cheer at the news.

Zack had fallen asleep the moment he finished eating “can we talk?” Mat asked as he knocked on the door to see you sat on the bed as you folded laundry.

Your absolute definition of the worst thing on the planet.

Mat laughed as he watched you scrunched up your face reacting to how he folded clothes “you got something you want to say?” Mat raised his eyebrows as he placed his boxers on the table in front of him.

You sighed “you’re doing it wrong.” You shook your head as you reached out to fix what he had done.

It made him smirk “what?” You looked for an answer to his amused expression “as someone who hates folding laundry you are doing a pretty good job.” Mat pointed out as he crossed his arms.

Your mouth formed an o as you let out a gasp “cause you’re doing it wrong!” You threw his boxers at him “want to show me the right way to do it?” You raised your eyebrows as you heard his offer “if that was to get me into your bed once more-” your relationship with the boy had only been going on for a few weeks but you had been friends for years.

The hockey player grabbed your hand as he pulled you onto his lap “then I’d have to try a lot less to be a lot more successful.” Mat brushed his hand along your cheek “I’d like to see you try.” You let out a squeal when he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom.

When Mat’s body weight pressed against the mattress it pulled you away from that memory “I don’t know how you do that everyday.” Mat blurted out as he looked at you.

It brought you some comfort hearing his apology “you are incredible and I was stupid.” The hockey player continued as he ran his fingers through his hair “that’s one way to put it.” You let out a soft laugh “I’m so sorry for everything I did.” Mat reached out to grab your hand.

You smiled at the contact “thank you.” Your voice was soft as you sent him a smile “and I promise I will never leave our children at school again.” His words made you laugh “I’m not letting you live that one down.” You shook your head as he grinned “thought as much.”

Both of you remained silent for a moment just enjoying the peace “I appreciate your apology.” You mumbled fiddling with your nails.

Mat stopped you as he forced your fingers down to the mattress “I have something I need to tell you.” The hockey player announced reaching over to his bedside cabinet.

You shook your head stopping him “I have something to say first.” Amit the chaos that was yesterday you failed to tell Mat the news “you go first then.” He let the box drop into his drawer as he waited to hear what it was that you had to say.

He smiled as he watched you run into the bathroom with a smile on your face “Zack was meant to wear this really cute onesie that I ordered when I thought about this but-” Mat cut you off as he got up to follow you “just spit it out.” His voice was soft as he sent you a thumbs up.

You showed him the pregnancy test as you chewed at the inside of your cheek “say something?” Somehow you were more nervous about showing it to him now than you had for any of the other three pregnancies combined.

Mat pursed his lips together “I was going to say this to you in a few minutes but I’ll do it now.” A moment truly hadn’t felt better than this one did.

He dropped to his knee “I can’t see my life without you and today cemented that more than any other did.” Mat confessed making you smile “the ring is in my drawer-” he rambled making you grin “just ask me so I can say yes you big goof!” You kneeled as you smiled locking your hand with his.

“Marry me so I can spend the rest of my life with you?”

Eight and a half months later

Mat and you enjoyed the last moments of silence as you stared at your newest edition of the family.

But of course the moment had to end eventually when Anthony opened the door with the twins and Zack in tow “is my goddaughter everything we thought she would be and more?” Anthony smiled as he carried a bouquet in his hands as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

Mat nodded crouching down to show the boys their sister “couldn’t have said it better myself.” He nodded knowing that this was going to be the child that was truly going to wrap everyone around her finger.

#mat barzal imagines #mat barzal oneshot #nhl oneshots #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey oneshots #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

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shokami · 7 days

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jjk newest chapter leaks. + a blurb to vent my frustrations and sadness over the one and only gojo satoru. may he always be my one and only.

gojo satoru, i hope that in another universe you get to live as gojo satoru and not the strongest. my baby boy, what have they done to you :( so here’s a tiny blurb of words, for the king who deserved to live. curse you, gege akutami.

———————————- <3

It wasn’t enough.

Nothing… was ever enough.

Not when he got stolen away from you, sealed in a pit of Hell and trapped- cornered by the four walls of a tiny square box. What had he thought about in there? Was his mind riddled with thoughts of letting down his friends, his students that had become his children, or his lover who had spent every night and day weeping in their shared bed?

Not when you watched his life be stolen away. Oh, how foolish you are, my Satoru… You thought to yourself. No matter how much you had pleaded, and cried, he had gone and done it anyways. Surely, there had been another way than to face Sukuna himself, right? No. Everything you said, every word echoed down empty halls, and landed upon deaf ears. You weren’t a sorcerer, you didn’t know what they knew. Gojo was a weapon, a fighter, a rebel with a cause. Gojo was not a lover, not a gentle man who wanted to be loved.

To them.

… but to you? He was just that. A lover, one that your heart yearned to speak the words “I love you” to just one more time. A simple man, with a simple wish. One that meant protecting his loved ones, but coming home to a cozy bed full of laughter, warmth, sunshine, and security.

Satoru had never meant to fall in love with you, he promised that he wouldn’t ever feel that emotion. Not for just you, but for anyone who wanted to view him as a love interest. Oh, but his heart was so stupid; tripping and fumbling right into your delicate soft hands.

Not enough.

It’s not enough.

Why was I not enough?!

Those words replayed in your head, every moment of every second, as you blamed yourself. The man lied to you. Those stupid blue eyes, that silver tongue, and those flowy white strands of hair that whisked and blended in the winter breeze. Of course he lied, how was he supposed to tell his girlfriend, his partner, that if he died… he’d face a fate that was sick, and twisted? So, he did what any “good man” would. A letter, left upon your nightstand that read every detail, every plan, with leaving everything he had to you.

Once upon a time, Gojo was asked a question that would unknowingly become his fate but a few years later. So foolishly, he answered with “I’d win.” You liar! Deep down, he must have known he wouldn’t and if he didn’t… he was damn near psychotic for trying.

Now, you lost it all again. Not only had you been forced to watch your one and only die at the hands of the King of Curses but this? This was sick. You wanted to throw up, you wanted to crawl into a hole and forget that the world outside existed. How could he forfeit his own body? How could he not have peace, even in death? How could the Jujutsu world take an already broken man, and force a sense of views that would define his entire life? It wasn’t fair, but then again, what was?

It’s never enough for any of you! You silently screamed in your head, banging against every surface, rattling the bars of a cage you locked your heart in. This wasn’t your lover, but an inexperienced boy who had taken his body as if it were a mere puppet.

Your heart ceased in your chest, and you clutched at it desperately as you dry heaved in your bedroom floor. Your knees hurt from the fall, as they scraped against the carpet. A loud, broken scream escaped your dry lips. Every thought in your head hurt, and every heart beat felt like a knife straight to your core. Every single part of you felt as if it was being ripped apart, and you wished for it to end. A sweaty hand reached for your cellphone, and through blurred vision you found your voicemails as a sob choked out desperately.

“Hey there, princess! I’m not too sure how this is going to play out,” A weak laugh echoed through the phone, his tone of voice knew. He knew he wouldn’t win. “I wish that I would have had time to hold you one last time, and tell you how much I loved you. It’s funny you know… how time works? I thought by now, I’d be back home and get to see that warm smile of yours. I never told you how much I loved it, and your laugh. Goddamn, your laugh was like music to my ears, baby.” A quiet sigh left his lips, and you began to cry even harder. “I never meant to fall in love with you, y/n. I knew I’d hurt you somehow, just didn’t know this is how I’d do it… This is how it has to be, sugar. So, don’t me upset with me, mk? I’ll always be with you.”

There was a long pause, one that hurt your soul as it wished to feel his touch and his love one last time. “I love you, y/n. Goodbye.” The voicemail ended.

“LIAR!” Your voice screamed, cracking in the process as you threw your phone across the room; watching it shatter into tiny little pieces on the ground. “Liar… Liar… Liar… You’re a liar, Satoru! How could you do this to me?”

For the first time in what felt like years, you were alone.

“You weren’t Gojo Satoru because you were the strongest… You were the strongest- because you were Gojo Satoru.” Those words left your mouth, sounding cold and distant. After a heart beat, your tears began to fall again as you laid there broken.

“You were just Satoru to me, my love…”

In another universe… Maybe you will know peace.

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the-amazing-simp · 1 year

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Gowns and Daggers | L.V.

📝 Title: Gowns and Daggers

📚 Requested: Yes/No

✍ Summary: It's prom night at Camp Half Blood

When you were a child of one of the 12 major god or goddess of Olympus, having a “normal life” seems like a far fetched fantasy land.

So, when Chiron and Mr. D suddenly decided it was nice to throw a prom night at Camp Halfblood to “give y’all a break” - it was as if Hades had just announced that every monster in existence has been banished to the Underworld.

You, Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper had taken it upon your selves to make sure that it would surely be a night to remember for all of you.

Then, after 2 months of waiting, the night of your lives had finally come.

“Pipes, how long is this still going to take?” You asked as the daughter of Aphrodite added what seemed to be the hundredth layer of lipstick on you.

“Just a minute, I promise.” She answered, “I just want to add on a bit of glitter to give emphasis on your lips.”

“And done!” Piper grinned, her own makeup adding to her natural beauty as she handed you a mirror, “What do you think?”

A smile immediately broke out on your lips as you inspected yourself in the mirror, “It’s amazing! Thank you so much, Pipes.”

“We’re ready to go, aren’t we?” Hazel asked, glancing at the clock, you had 5 more minutes before you were due at the Big House.

“C’mon Annabeth!” You called out, “There’s no point in delaying it any further. Let’s see the dress.”

Although you girls went dress shopping together, Annabeth insisted on keeping hers a secret.

“Fine!” She grumbled before stepping out into the open.

With the pitch of all three of your screams of delight, it was a surprise no one came running thinking you guys were in trouble.

A blush immediately rose up to Annabeth’s cheeks as she gave a twirl in the sea blue dress she was wearing, “You can’t be that serious.”

“Girl, I’m telling you, if Percy doesn’t faint at the sight of you - I’m keeping you all to myself tonight.” Piper said.

“And what about Jason?” You asked, giving her a teasing smile.

She merely twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger, “Who says I can’t have both.”

“Piper Mclean!” You scolded, hitting her with a pillow as the group bursted into laughter.

“And how about you and Mr. Valdez?” Hazel now directed the attention to you.

It was your turn to blush, “What about it? It’s not like he’s my date or anything.”

As the saying goes, truth hurts. Out of the four girls in your friend group, you were the only one single and without a date.

But, who cares? It’s not like you’ve been crushing on Leo for a year and 6 months.

“Oh please, he would literally give anything you want on bended knee.” Piper protested.

“I bet you 10 drachma he’ll make a move tonight.” Annabeth challenged.

Before you could even say anything in reply, Hazel and Piper already placed their bets.

You rolled your eyes at their antics, “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

—

Kudos to the Hephaestus and Aphrodite cabins, in a matter of 12 hours, the Big House was practically unrecognizable.

“Are you sure this is the Big House?” Hazel asked, looking around the place in awe, “For what we know the Athena cabin would have built an auditorium here or something.”

“I’m pretty sure..” You trailed off.

Suddenly you heard a thud, followed by the roaring laughter of Leo, Jason, and Frank. Turning around you saw Percy on the floor, seemingly knocked unconscious with a blushing Annabeth and Piper with a teasing smile.

“Looks like you called it, Pipes.” Hazel said, trying not to laugh along.

“Better call Will.” You said, “Unless Annabeth wants to lug around an unconscious boyfriend the whole night.”

“Dancing sounds a lot better.” Annabeth agreed as the both of you set off to find Will.

–

“What happened to you, Valdez? Cat got your tongue?” Jason asked, diverting the attention from unconscious Percy.

“What?” Leo asked, turning to look at Jason after being snapped out of his trance.

“Y/N left a minute ago. Went to get Will.” Frank explained.

“Yeah,” Leo nodded, running a hand through his hair, “I knew that.”

“Uh huh.” Piper’s tone told everyone just how unconvinced she was, “Was she wearing a necklace?”

“Yeah.” Leo answered without a second thought, “The locket I gave her a year ago.”

“She was?” Frank said, “I never noticed.”

‘That doesn’t prove anything.” Leo protested despite the heat on his cheeks.

“If you say so. Just remember what Percy taught you about slow dancing.” Hazel teased as everyone laughed.

–

30 minutes later, Percy has now regained consciousness and his arm has never left Annabeth’s waist. Jason and Piper have been in the middle of the dance floor since the music started playing while Frank and Hazel are taking pictures of Nico and Will.

“Beautiful night isn’t it?” A voice appeared next to you as Leo grinned, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants.

“Definitely.” You agreed, looking around at the place filled with nothing but laughter and excitement, “I don’t think any night could be better than this.”

“I know how it can be even better.” Leo interjected, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

“How?” You hoped this would lead where you were hoping that it would.

He started fiddling with the hem of suit jacket, “If you would dance with me.”

A small flame bursted out on a strand of his hair as his face started turning red, “I mean if you want to. I’m not saying that you would dance with me, not that I’d force you to. But, if you want then it’d make me really happy but if-”

You giggled, gently patting his hair to extinguish the flame, “Yes Leo, I will dance with you.”

“Really?” He asked, not believing his luck.

“Of course.” Your heart started racing as you grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

His eyes widened as he placed his hand on your waist and you rested your hands on his shoulders.

“You have a dagger strapped to your waist?” Leo asked in complete shock.

“We’re demigods.” You answered nonchalantly, “And you literally make these weapons.”

“I know.” He said, “But you’re wearing a gown and you have a weapon strapped inside.”

You shrugged, “So? You never know when the monsters are going to attack. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Leo smiled, shaking his head fondly as he spun you around in time with the beat.

PJO/HOO General Taglist: @missryerye

#leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez headcanons #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez smut #leo valdez x you #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus rp #heroes of olympus imagine #heroes of olympus memes #hoo x reader

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tim-shii · 1 year

Text

the stakes are high, the water's rough.

pairing: nagi seishiro x reader

tags: office au, office worker!nagi, he is not a football player in this, established relationship, fluff, introvert office worker nagi my beloved 😓

a/n: i love love love the ours mv by taylor swift so i was like ykw why not nagi office worker ,, makes u wonder what would happen if nagi didnt play football and became a pro hmm HAHHAHA my irls also helped w what do people even do in an office so ty to them theyre the best 🫶 enjoy this mwa also thank u nie babe (@fuyuluvr) for beta reading may kith ka sakin 😚

the morning air is definitely not good for the lungs. in a busy city, long gone were the fresh and cool winds of the province. instead, fog and vehicle smoke fill the atmosphere, smothering people on their way to work.

what a dull world to live in, nagi thinks. making his way towards the elevator after mindlessly showing his identification card to the probably half asleep desk attendant and high-fiving the friendly janitor who never fails to greet him every morning.

ding! as the doors slid open, nagi could feel himself melting to the ground. it’s 7:54 am, office hours start at seven. he’s late but so what? it’s not like his boss cares enough for attendance. because of this, he gets an extra 10 minutes to sleep in. so why? why is the elevator so full of people that he has to squish his 190 cm build who’s carrying a briefcase? sighing dejectedly, nagi thinks he should’ve just taken the stairs.

it was silent. other than the constant whirs of the elevator going up, no one dares speak a word. it makes nagi cringe, to be honest. he feels like he’s in a room with a bunch of npc’s just trying to do their role. as soon as the lift stops at the thirteenth floor, nagi is pushed left and right as his fellow employees rush to their desks.

nagi walks over to his desk sluggishly. each step just adds to his growing boredom. the office is still the same as ever. the coffee that toppled over yesterday is still left unclean and the corner plant who has seen better days.

dragging his feet to his assigned cubicle, nagi sat down with a huff. looking around, he notices mr. takahashi, his senior who has worked here for more than ten years, standing in front of the water dispenser just staring into space. yep. this will be a long seven hours.

throughout the day, nagi felt nothing but exhaustion and endless boredom. his boss was nowhere to be found, as usual. he went to three different printers in the office and not a single one of them worked. he couldn't even concentrate on the report he was working on because the beeping from his co-worker's game almost made him pull out his own console and neglect his duty. during lunch, two people whose names nagi didn't even care to know about kept snickering while looking back at him eating his melon bread. how bothersome, indeed.

as soon as the clock strikes four, nagi wasted no time in tidying up his things. rushing towards the exit, nagi even ditches the elevator and ran down the stairs instead, he high fived the janitor for the second time of the day.

while on the bus, nagi decided to play games to pass time. taking in his homescreen wallpaper. a picture of you two at a park, his arms around you from behind, his cheek squished against your own. you beaming at the camera and him having the most miniscule smile ever known to man.

two years ago, you got an offer to study abroad in an exchange student program. at first, you refused, not wanting to leave nagi behind and came along were the doubts if you're even gonna survive in a foreign place all on your own. but nagi talked to you about it and urged you to just go, he'll be fine. he was not fine. during the first week, nagi couldn't sleep. he felt homesick in his own home. at some point, he's even thankful his job is everyday and keeps him away from home, nagi can't believe he ever thought that.

and now, nagi's on his way to the airport. to pick you up. because finally, after two whole long torturous years, you're coming home. to him.

nagi waits at the doors, anxiously tapping his feet. looking ahead, his eyes met yours and all of a sudden, the world doesn't seem so dull anymore. he watches as you run towards him, dropping your baggage at your wake and throwing yourself at him. arms around his neck and legs around his waist, nagi holds you tightly as if he's afraid to let you go again. he pulls your face back, his palm feels warm on your cheek.

"hi, sei. did you miss me?" you whispered, oh so delicately. nagi didn't utter anything back, only staring at you. eyes wandering around your features, rememorizing the face he's only been seeing inside a tiny box for the last two years. nagi leans in slowly, taking your lips in his. he kisses you with longing and fervor.

"missed you. i missed you so much." you heard him mumble into the kiss. pulling back only to hide his face in your neck, nipping at the skin before putting you down.

"let's go home?" you ask him, hands cupping his face. he nods.

home. nagi thinks it's a nice word when you say it.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #blue lock nagi #seishiro nagi #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #tim writes.

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wreckingtickles · 7 months

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Tama v. Bakugo

Yep, this tickling fic was inspired by Tama's absolutely stellar Bakugo piece, which will live rent-free in my mind... probably forever?

Fun fact #1: Bakugo broken with ruthless foot tickling is my favorite thing in the world, it's not even a contest. No. 1 lee, no. 1 spot. Just perfect.

Fun fact #2: Many of the lins the characters say are taken straight from Tama's drawings depicting Bakugo and her favorite teases.

Words: 2,678

What the fuck is happening?

Bakugo glances about in the infinite blank space. White everywhere the eye can see, even below him there isn’t so much as a hint of a floor; and yet, it’s undeniable the contraption he’s sitting in is resting on something; heck, he himself must be sitting on something, though he can see nothing under himself.

Right, the contraption: a set of purplish-gray stocks encasing his ankles, raising them just enough that they’re almost level with his chest, which juts prominently forward as massive manacles restrain his forearms together behind his back. The top of the stocks is a black and curved, and, on top of blocking Bakugo’s view of his feet, he can feel that each of his toes has been tied to it, keeping his soles perfectly spread, vulnerable and immobile.

The only other thing he can see is a small, round table right next to the stocks, lying on something that should be below the floor, and on top of the gray table, a squat bottle of clear fluid, purple-capped and purple-labeled.

Suddenly, a tall, curvy woman is standing right in front of him. Everything on her person is some shade of yellow. What stands out right away is her slip-on dress, barely cladding her buxom form; then, her sea witch-like hair, like carefully permed algae, and… is that a raw egg on her head?

Each of her fingers ends in a long, sharp nail, painted yellow, of course. She’s brandishing an oversized detailing brush, which is almost as big as Bakugo’s foot. There’s something ominous about its purple shell and the hundreds of bristles under it.

“And who the fuck are you?” asks Bakugo, resolute not to show any trace of doubt or fear.

The woman’s voice is saccharine. “Maybe someone who thinks you need an attitude adjustment. Maybe someone who wants to see you relax and laugh. Or maybe someone who’s about to torture you for information.”

She notices Bakugo stiffen at that last remark, so she presses on. “Wanna go ahead and tell me where your hero friends are??” Her request sounds both ecstatic and devious, like she’s not trying to wring information out of him, but about to pull a prank.

“Get fucked,” he deadpans.

“Suit yourself!!” she trills, far too happy at his refusal. But he has no time to linger on her response, because something is leaving a fiery trail on his left foot, starting from the heel and traveling up, towards his toes. Fuck no. Not that. He stills himself, biting his lower lip, determined not to make a sound, to keep his face expressionless.

Her fingernail completes its journey and withdraws, and for a single moment, Bakugo allows himself to hope that will be it; but then, he feels four nails gently scratching at his heel.

“How’s that?” she chirps. “Heels aren’t usually very sensitive, and I’m sure yours aren’t either, right?”

She lets her fingers roam the mound for a few more moments (damn his Quirk for keeping his soles soft and callous-free!), then a single nail starts scratching at the point where his heel begins to flatten into his arch.

“Now this tends to be a loooot more sensitive,” she continues, and Bakugo has to grind his teeth together to keep from making a sound. It’s just one finger. Shit.

But then all four fingernails are dragged up his arch, and the corner of his mouth threatens to betray him. She says nothing, dragging her nails up, then down, then up again. No, he won’t smile, he won’t laugh, he won’t break, he won’t, he won’t! But then the four wanderers reach the ball of his foot.

“Khh!” escapes his treacherous lips, fruitlessly attempting to jerk his foot for the first time, but he immediately regains his composure… or something that resembles it.

“Yes, I think this ball here is very, very sensitive! But where does it tickle the most? Under? Right in the middle? Just above? I think it looks even more ticklish than the base of these toes, and these look sooooo ticklish!”

Bakugo would be cussing her out if he wasn’t so intent on repressing peals of giggling – giggling, him! He won’t answer, not like he needs to, because his warped features, the unrestrained snorts, the twisting of his upper body tell Tama everything she needs to know.

Yes, indeed, it’s even more sensitive than those nice-looking toes. That ball is ticklish indeed, extremely, excruciatingly ticklish. And she’ll play a game with it and the foot it’s attached to.

She makes a show of resting the brush on the table, and Bakugo would be relieved if his eyes weren’t squeezed shut in a long-failed attempt to hide his reactions.

But then four more fingers start scratching at his right foot, and the seal of his lips breaks. “Keh! Shit… Shit-!”

Tama smirks deviously, her hands still moving with the theatrical deliberateness of a clairvoyant interrogating her sphere… except the answer to her question is already quite obvious.

She’s teasing his arches, still going slow, she told herself she won’t start being sort of mean until the dam breaks… and she knows it’s about to.

In fact, it only takes a couple more seconds for his helpless struggling to become that much more desperate, for the volume of his voice to increase so…

“KEH!” he exhales again through gritted teeth, his face flushing rapidly and… poor guy, he already has tears in his eyes.

Tama lingers just a fraction of a second longer on his toes – her nails can easily slip between them, reaching skin that was never meant to be touched – and…

“S-SHIHIT!!” tumbles out of Bakugo’s lips… giving Tama the go-ahead. And as her fingernails begin to move with practiced spit and masterful precision, the professional hero realizes he never stood a chance.

“BWHAAAAAA! BWHAHHAAHA HAHAAHA HAHAHAHA HAHAHA!! HAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAAHHAAHAH!! SHIHIHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!!!”

With pinpoint precision, Tama targets the top of his heel, then the base of his toes; the bottom of the ball of his foot, then the stems; the center of the arch, then the middle of the ball; the top of the ball, and between the toes. It’s an expert flurry that not even someone far less ticklish than Bakugo could resist, and with both feet at her disposal, perfectly vulnerable, she can target different spots on each foot, introducing Bakugo to a new level of hysteria.

“HAAAAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAH HAHAHAHA AHHAHAAHAHAH!! FUHAHAHAHHAHACK HAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

“Theeere we go!!” trills Tama, scratching at the pads of both big toes.

“Now that’s a happy face,” she continues, her left hand focusing on the right heel.

“Don’t you feel so much better just relaxing and laughing like this??” she questions as she slips a finger between each set of toes.

“Seriously, you’ll give yourself wrinkles if you constantly scowl!!” she advises while her right hand wreaks havoc just under the ball of his left foot.

“Happiness is a much better look on you!!” she proclaims, happily scribbling at the base of his toes.

“You are just EXPLODING with laighter!!” she quips right before all her fingernails converge right at the center of the balls of both feet, making Bakugo howl.

“FUUHUHHAHAHAHUCHK!! FUCK! FUCK! GggrrRAHAHHAHHHRRGHAAH!! Fucking stoOHOOP!! THIS IS TOHOOHOHORTURE!! AhGHAGAHGAAHAHAHAHH!!”

Tama doens’t bother pointing out that that is the point – as far as he knows. No, she just flexes every inch of her incomparable skill to make sure that she’s extracting the most distilled form of hysterical agony every second – each one of which feels like an eternity to tickle-addled Bakugo.

“Awwww, so ticklish!! Gitchy gitchy gitchy!! How about here~? Or here~? My my, you’re just a walking tickle spot, huh? Are you just soooo ticklish??? Tickle tickle!!” she teases, knowing full well that Bakugo can understand one word out of three, but her cooing tone is enough for him to realize he is being teased, and that stokes the fire of his powerless rage. He even tries to insult her through the deafening peals of laughter… too bad surge of high-pitched mirth cuts him off when she focuses on the ball of his right foot and the base of his left toes at the same time.

How deliciously he is thrashing, flushing, tearing up, laughing, laughing, laughing, hating her, but really his own off-the-charts sensitivity.

And naturally, Tama goes on teasing him. “You’re such a gigglebox!! Sooo cute!! You just gonna giggle yourself to death?? What if I get those toes, huh?? What are you gonna do then??”

Bakugo is in hell. The worst thing is that he doesn’t even care about the humiliation anymore. He just wants – NEEDS it to stop.

And she does, about ten minutes of desperate laughter later. Not because she’s taken pity on him, no. She needs his sense sharp, lest a single scratch of hers be sub-optimal. And she wants him to be able to make sense of her words.

So as the phantom tickles keep him flailing about, she reaches for the bottle and, calmly, opens the cap, squirts its content in the palm of her hand, puts it back on the table, closes it, and rubs the lotion into her palms.

By then, his laughter has tapered off into steady giggling, which is also dying down. She notices the tears in his eyes and smirks. Then, she proceedd to rub the red soles with her lathered hands.

His limp body instantly stiffens when he feels her touch – Ah, what delightful fear she’s instilled! – though he is too tired to pretend he can put up a fight, and warily lets her rub his ravaged soles, secretly relieved that her touch is dispelling the phantom tickles.

Poor guy, he has no idea how much worse this is about to get, and will keep getting. So she is extra nice with her massage, as if to make up for what she is about to do, while waiting for his sensitivity and his reactions to recover fully. How unfortunate that he has such good stamina!

“Sooo, anything you want to tell me?” she enquires.

It takes Bakugo a long time to answer. “G-get… fucked…” he repeats, his hoarse voice breaking as he’s still trying to project strength.

Tama chuckles. How delightful. But she wears her best scowl as she says, “That’s not nice at all!! I think someone owes me an apology!!”

Bakugo breathes in, then out. He sits upright, blinks off the tears to scowl at her. “Get… fucked.”

Oh, how hard she has to fight to suppress that chuckle! How thoroughly he’s taken that bait! Gobbled it right up, as soon as she lured him into a sense of self-possession, that maybe he could take this.

“Just know I won’t stop until you’re ready to apologize, ok??” she says, and then scratches.

Bakugo YELPS. As much as they’d tickled him, none of his friends had ever introduced him to baby oil. She pauses just long enough for the realization to sink in and register on his features.

Then the kiddy gloves come off.

“AGAGAGAGAGAHHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! HAHHAHAHAHAGAGAGAGAAFFFFFFFHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAGAGAGAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

The next ten minutes are unadulterated, coerced hysteria, Bakugo caught in a losing battle between his will and his body. Tama says nothing, only humming to herself. She knows the last of his defenses are coming down. But that’s no good reason to go easy on those footsies, is it?

“RRRRHAHAHAHAGAGAGAGAGHHHH!!!! HAHAHAHAHFHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PHEHEHHHAHAHAAHHA!!!”

She focuses on his toes.

“SSSSSTHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!! GHAHAHAGHAAGAHAGHAAA!! PPLHEHEHEHEHAASEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

His arches…

“HAHHAHA!! STOHOP!! PLEHEHASE!!! STHAHAHSTAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAP!!”

Begging, uh? Oh, if he could notice… No matter, he will, later. The ball of his foot.

“FUFUFHAHAHAHAHACCKK!! PLAHAHAHA!!! STHAHAHA!!!! PLEAPLEAHAHSEPLEASEHEHEHE!!! IHAHAH!!! I’M SOHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHA!!!”

There it is. He’s cracked. Though, to be fair, he probably hasn’t even realized it.

What he does realize is that Tama won’t pause to let him apologize. After all, if he’s too sensitive to even speak, that’s not her fault, is it?

“HAHAHAHAHSSOOSOHAHAHAHAHAH!!! MMHAHAHAHAH”” I’m SOHOHAHAHAHAH---!!”

Oh, he nearly did it! How tragic he’s been consigned to the pit of silent laughter, so close to the finish line! His eyes are vacuous, incredulous, his mouth open and frozen into a manical cackle that just won’t come.

Well, if he won’t apologize, he can take more. So Tama doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent. It takes him all of 30 seconds – probably two hours in Bakugo-time – for all the words he’d been wanting to say to erupt in pitiful string. “STOPPLEASESTOPOKAYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYSTOPITSOHOHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHA!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

How loud he is! But, always true to her word, Tama does stop.

Oh, how he instantly crumbles! Like a puppet whose strings have been cut. How he pants, like he’s just run three consecutive marathons! Beautiful. Just beautiful. “Theeere we go!! Now that wasn’t so hard!!”

She rubs his sore feet again – with more oil, of course. His crimson soles positively glisten.

Now for the offer he can’t accept. “Remind me again, where are your hero friends??”

He freezes. He’d forgotten. Ah, that surge of resolve! Now that he’s been reminded of why he has to endure, he’s somehow convinced himself he won’t falter again. She snickers. It’s too easy.

He says nothing – just stares at her defiantly, flushed though he is, tear-trails down his cheeks, soaked hair stuck to his forehead. She smiles. And grabs the brush.

And something inside Bakugo dies as he feels the bristles scratching at his right sole. “FFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHACK!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!! HAHAHAHHA AHHAHAHAAHHA!!!”

“Ohh, what a scream!! Is this the sweet spot, right at the top?? Perfect, I’ll just keep the brush right here for a while then- no?? Ahaha! Now why would I tickle you anywhere else, when this spot makes you beg for mercy so deliciously~?”

It was a half-lie – he didn’t have the capacity to beg for mercy anymore. Or maybe he does. Well, it is gone for sure the second her free hand makes contact with his left foot, all while the scrub keeps going up and down, up and down…

No amount of screaming or crying will save Bakugo. He’s just there to take it – he can’t, yet he will.

“Wow, your soles are so red. And look at all those nail marks. That must really, really tickle, huh?? Like seriously, it looks unbearable. Good thing you have to take it and not me, huh??”

He can’t understand her, but she keeps teasing to shatter whatever spec of ego is left. She moves the brush to the other foot, but her nails aren’t deserting the first.

He just screams, and laughs, and drools, and begs. Nothing else he can do. And soon, he can’t even do that anymore. Silent laughter. The brush switches foot. Screaming, crying, drooling, begging! He doesn’t even remember what he’s supposed to say to make it stop.

It is pure self-preservation that somehow cuts through the laughter as the brush scrubs up and down his right foot, and her fingernails focus on the very center of the ball of the left. The kill. “AUGKHAHA HAHA HA HAHA HAHA! I’LL TALK!!”

She doesn’t stop.

“BFHAHAHAHA! I’LL TALK!!”

How long until he burns himself out again?

“KGAHAH! KEE! MAKE IT STAHP!! GYA!”

She doesn’t stop. But he’s running on fumes, and he can understand her again. Not for long. So she trills, “In only 30 minutes? And you were such a little toughie, too!!”

She won’t stop. She sees it in his eyes, the moment the realization hits.

“Let’s make it an even hour.”

And a second brush materializes in her free hand. Bakugo bellows – screams – groans – this can’t be happening, but it is. He’s broken, defeated. Two brushes energetically scrubbing at his feet, and having gone through all four stages of grief without any of them diminishing the torment one bit, his mind short-circuits. He’s been reduced to a machine that can do nothing but laugh.

But he doesn’t make it through the hour, no. He doesn’t even last 10 minutes after the second brush is introduced before his body surrenders. He goes limp, still twitching, breathing deeply, passed out, with the biggest cackle frozen on his face.

Tama stops. Smiles. “Until the next drawing,” she trills.

#ticklish!bakugou #ticklish!bakugo #lee!bakugou #lee!bakugo

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anki-of-beleriand · 1 year

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Bad Liar ch. 2

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Past Shuri/Female!Reader

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: This chapter was a little hard to write because I want to do an introduction to the situation each one of them is living. But I hope you guys like it, right now Wanda is going through a very difficult time, and Reader is as well though her best defense is to be a little bitchy to hot strangers because it is a nice protective mechanism. It seems everytime Reader meets with Wanda she can't be nice but...well, we will see.

Remember that English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any grammar, spelling or funny mistake. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 2 - New lives

Your eyes were still closed.

You could hear the muffled sound of music coming from the first floor, and the sound of America doing a mess on the kitchen. The light from the sun sneaking inside your room through the blinds until the soft hues of yellow light touched your face. Mornings had become harder ever since you lost your parents, the weight of responsibility settled right in as soon as you regained consciousness and your life choices started dancing right in front of you until you decided to stand up.

A heavy sigh left your lips, the mobile resting on your table was flashing with the couple of messages you were receiving already.

“Fuck.” The curse left your lips with a rusty tone, your hand grabbing the phone to see who wrote to you during the night and most of the morning.

After seeing at least four of them, you knew it would be one of those days.

With another sigh, you sat up ready to start the day.

“Fuck all of this.” You mumbled again before turning around and going to the bathroom.

*****

The taste of coffee on your lips was everything you needed to improve your morning.

That, and watching America danced around the kitchen while sorting the breakfast and her lunch for that school day. The both of you were completely different, yet you two were just the same; you father had married a young woman he met just after your mother died in a car accident. At first you were not so sure with the relationship, you were still a child and your mom was just gone and this woman was nothing like her.

Then, America was born, and you forgot everything about her not being your mom.

If America was your little Sister, then Elena could be her mother.

“So, I see that Carol texted you,” America started in a teasing tone, her eyes taking a good glance at you before going back to the pan on the counter, “are you two going out again?”

“You read the message Carol sent, you mean.” You replied rolling your eyes, America shrugged not really caring about the semantics in the conversation.

“I’m your little sister, and you’re not very good with passwords, I can do what I want.”

“You sounded like Loki.” You replied grimacing a little, America turned around arching a single eyebrow at you.

“You’re so not going to go out of this conversation.” America crossed her arms waiting, for a moment you played with the idea of just not saying anything at all, but America would not drop it and she would find out eventually.

“I am seeing her tonight.” You gave in, shrugging. “She has this thing back at the base and wants me there with her.”

“So, you two guys…” America made a gesture with her hands, you snorted shrugging again.

“No idea.” You played with the fruit on your plate furrowing your brows. “I’m not sure if I want to, you know?”

America softened at your confession, your last serious relationship had been Shuri and that didn't end well. Then you found yourself in several affairs that only bring distractions to your life but not real satisfaction, America glanced at the house that used to be the Romanoff household then she turned her attention back at you.

The last year and a half had not been easy, but whereas America had distracted herself with school and friends you had to take the mantle of big sister and heir to the small fortune left by your parents. She knew you had been under a lot of pressure and, any day now, you would explode under it.

Perhaps, going out with Carol Danvers was what you needed it, even though America herself was not so sure about the blond-haired woman.

"I think you deserve to have some fun, and go out for the time being before you decide to settle for something serious." America leaned against the counter offering you a rare smile, you smiled back at her shrugging again.

“We will see, little sister, we will see."

America winced throwing a towel at you, “don’t call me that. Aren’t you late for work?”

“Aren’t you late for school?” You replied back turning your wrist to see the hour.

“Nah, it’s still earlier, and I’m waiting for Kate.”

You nodded standing up and drinking the last of your coffee, the atmosphere change for a moment and you had to wonder if perhaps you were missing something. There was dust of pink on America’s checks, but otherwise nothing seemed amiss.

“Today I have a meeting about dad’s will, and the succession process.” You said softly, this was something you already discussed with America but the subject was still sore for the both of you. “I think we will need to talk about everything, but how about we do it during lunch tomorrow?”

America swallowed her questions; she nodded offering you a weak smile.

“So, you gonna be late today?” She asked and this time around you caught the tone she used.

“No parties, and certainly no sex in the house, is that understood?”

America almost fell down, her face this time around was completely red with her mouth hanging open. You couldn’t help the laugh leaving your lips at her expression, she was looking flustered and indignant.

“I’m not going to have sex!” America almost yelled, and soon she covered her mouth while glaring at you. “What’s wrong with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? You’re going to have the house for yourself and you’re not going to bring Kate…”

“She is a friend!!”

The way America turned red, and how was tapping on the table told you otherwise. You arched your brow, though decided against any further comment seeing as whatever was happening between Kate and America had not been consolidate. Yet.

“Of course, your friend.” You pressed your lips together holding back your laughter, America pressed a hand on her face trying to hide away her embarrassment.

The vibration from your phone broke the moment, you made a face glancing at the name gleaming through the screen. America leaned in, her brows coming together in a familiar gesture that reminded you of Elena. Your face softened grabbing the phone and putting it away, your arms wrapping around the teen before placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t worry about it, Tony is just…being Tony, and I bet this was actually Pepper messaging me from his phone since I didn’t answer her message of this morning.” You stepped aside grabbing your car keys. “Please, be careful and write me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be good, I won’t make any parties and…I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

You chuckled shaking your head, if America did half the things you did at her age you would be in great trouble.

The morning was cold, but the sun was just sneaking around the heavy clouds gliding right above the suburbs. The music started inside your car, your mind already on the million things you would need to face once you get to the Stark Tower; a lot of things had to be sorted out and you knew the conversation you had pending with America needed to happen on that very weekend.

If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed the garage door of the house next door opening, and the red car coming out of the garage with a ruckus happening right in the back seat. But as fate might had wanted it, you were just as distracted as the other woman and, by the time you both realized was happening it was late.

The sound of metal hitting metal was quite evident, your eyes opened wide and you stopped just on time before the hit could be worse than it already was.

“Fuck, what the hell?”

The sound had been an exageration of what actually happened. The woman in the red car had hit the metal bin right sepparating your driveway to the one from your neighbour. In all reality, the hit had been worse for her that had a scratch on the back of her car whereas you almost ran the metal bin with yours.

Still, this only meant another delay and the fact that now you had an idiot for a neighbour. You made a face rolling your eyes when you caught the sound of a door closing and footsteps apporaching.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

Last night, the woman had been a vision, and an afterthought. You never dreamt of meeting her again, and after being an asshole with her and what she needed it you wished you would never see her again.

Yet, her she was.

This time around she looked different.

Her suit was professional looking, and the light makeup with her hairstyle made her look beautiful. There was still a trace of something in her eyes, a lack of light and heavy bags under her eyes but otherwise she was looking so much different to the mess of a woman you had seen the night before.

The worry in her features soon changed to one of annoyance, and this time around her green eyes gleamed with animosity when they too recognized you.

“You!” She spat with old anger she held from your last encounter, you raised an eyebrow and the annoyance you felt at the moment rose inside your chest making you draw a smile that Wanda found equally annoying to the one you wore the night before.

“Damn, you decided to take revenge for the yogurt yesterday?” You let out a half smile, your phone at the ready taking the pictures. “Do you know this is my part of the street, so in theory is your fault?”

“Excuse me?” Wanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she stood there for a moment trying to gather her courage after the impact. "What the hell is your malfunction?"

She was still trembling, the cries from the twins resounding in her head and the bad night sleep taking its toll on her. You opened your mouth to speak when your phone started ringing, this time around Pepper was the one calling.

“Look, as interesting as this could turn out to be, I have cameras and everything to proof you fucked up.” You said walking backwards to your car. “Let’s not make a big deal of this, afterall I did not suffer any damage...but I can always point you over to a good driving instructor so this won't happen again? I would hate for next time you hitting my car in the safety of our driveways."

You glanced at your phone, then at your watch and without looking back to a dumbstruck Wanda you waved good-bye.

"Have a good day, Lady!"

Wanda was still trembling when you drove down the street, your mouth opening and closing while discussing with someone over the phone. Wanda clenched her eyes shut, her trembling hand resting on the side of the car while she repeated the same mantra inside her head over and over again.

It wasn’t him; it wasn’t him…it wasn’t him. He doesn’t know you’re here.

The muffled sound of crying made her stirred into action, opening the door she accommodated herself to calm down Billy while Tommy grabbed his favorite blanket closer to his chest. The tears were rolling down her face, she whispered sweet things to Billy while offering a shaky smile until the boy sniffed grabbing Wanda’s hand in his.

Wanda knew she would be late that day, her morning had not been better than her night but at least this time around there was no one around to scream at her, to drag her back into the house for her stupidity and her distracted nature. The car could survive, and she would certainly send the other woman to hell for being a complete asshole but for now the important thing was that she and the kids were safe.

What were the odds that the same stupid woman from the day before was the same one living next door?

Wanda shook her head making sure Billy and Tommy were fine, before going to the front and making her way to the school. That day, her new life would start and she wouldn’t let anyone, specially someone as incredible stupid as the woman next door to mess with her humour, or the new life she was trying to build.

*****

The nursery was filled with children form the faculty, as well as some of the younger siblings of the students going to the Elementary and the High School right next door. The institution was actually one of the few prestigious schools in the country, it had been built for the students with great minds but probably without the resources to afford the best education the country could offer. It had been stablished in the early 50´s and the school board was led by one of the most important women in the educational system in the country.

Natasha Romanoff wrapped her arms tightly around Wanda, the young woman dropped her shoulders and allowed the comfort this gesture brough to her soul. They had met almost a year ago, the last time Wanda had been at the hospital with a broken arm and a knife wound; that day Natasha had offered a way out and Wanda had taken it without any hesitation.

“How are you doing? How was the trip? The house, was of your liking?”

Natasha was beautiful, with a light makeup and red lips matching her hair many confused her beauty for stupidity or even for her being an easy piece of ass. On the contrary, Natasha was a shark amongst a world govern by men, her inner circle was made of great men and women that had been trying to build a better society in the midst of politics and difficulties. She was smart, and assertive with great ideas as how the things at school should be done and her side job had been of great help to women and men around the country that suffered the horrors of violence in their households.

Wanda offered a shaky smile, her eyes dancing around the small room before they settled on the twins.

“It has been…hard.” She replied in a soft voice, “last night I couldn’t help but look at the clock on the wall and…”

Natasha softened nodding; her hand placed on the woman’s arm before she too went to look at the twins that were playing together in a corner.

“It takes time, Wanda, don’t rush yourself.” Natasha then nodded at the twins. “They will get there, and you too.”

“Thank you for everything, the house was…it was amazing.” She then made a face, she wasn’t sure if she should mention the fact her neighbour was a bitch, Natasha noticed her expression and squeezed her arm softly.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing just…I have an encounter with this woman, she was a total bitch and…I think that’s the only bad thing that happen to me since getting here, you know?”

Natasha chuckled shaking her head, “well, I’m glad that’s the only bad thing so far, bitchy people are all around the world you just have to ignore them.”

Wanda shrugged nodding, she hesitated for a moment before following Natasha out of the nursery and down a long hall connecting to the main building.

“You will be with the seniors class, they are…special.” Natasha hesitated for a moment before laughing at Wanda’s expression. “Special as in they are in advanced levels but on different fields, not as in troublemakers.”

Wanda made a face shaking her head apologetically, “I didn’t mean…I mean, all children deserve a fair treatment, and being difficult is just part of their grow process or…”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, every single student in this place is a troublemaker.” Natasha commented, her lips never loosen up the smile adorning her features. “I think that’s the best part of this job.”

Natasha made a brief description of the building and the students, Wanda was listening attentively admiring everything around her. The students would come in greeting Natasha and herself before running down the halls or screaming or laughing, Wanda couldn’t help the smile adorning her features at the familiarity of it all. She remembered still the day she graduated from University and went right ahead to look for a job, weeks after having married Vis; her life had been amazing up until Vis stated he didn’t like her going out so much and always being late or working at home and much less being around so many kids and their parents.

Wanda’s dream of being a teacher soon came crashing down after a school meeting, it had been innocent enough but that day Wanda learned the true nature of her husband and weeks later she quit.

“This is amazing.” Wanda finally commented with a smile, Natasha nodded signalling the black door down the hall. “This will be your classroom, I know your specialty was English and Spanish, but I also know you have some knowledge of Cultural Studies and literature, that’s what I want you to do with them.”

Wanda nodded enthusiastically, she had received the lesson plan for the semester and the study plan for the whole year. These kids were really high advanced in everything they did and her classes would be a way to help them develop critical thinking and argumentation skills during debates; at least that was what Wanda would like to teach them.

“No one knows about your past, Wanda.” Natasha finally said opening the door and handing the key to Wanda, she walked towards the desk were she had organized the files the young woman would need. “You are here with your maiden name, and with a nice backstory, remember that.”

“I will, Natasha. I don’t know…I really don’t know how to thank you for everything you have done for me.” Wanda finally stated turning to the woman, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I will do my best, I…thank you.”

“Don’t need to thank me, Wanda.” Natasha offered another hug to the woman. “That’s what we’re here for, remember that part of the process is talking about it and you have a meeting with Hope tomorrow.”

“I know, I will be there.” Wanda then leaned back chewing on her lip with uncertainty, Natasha furrowed her brow tilting her head.

“What is it?”

“The twins, I mean…I can’t take them with me but…”

Natasha nodded understanding what Wanda meant, she pointed with her head to the classroom chuckling.

“You have at least twenty teens in this place, you can ask one of them to babysit for you.” Natasha shook her head before Wanda could reply. “You will need a babysitter either way, you can ask around and if you’re still unsure, come over later on and I will help you with that.”

Once Natasha left, Wanda was left alone in the classroom.

This place was like nothing she had seen before, the desks and the walls, the windows and the general decoration was relaxing and actually quite homey. Wanda sat on her desk, the laptop resting there had her name already and the password ended up being her employee ID. She started looking around the different files, the names of her students and what each one of them had been doing up until that point. Natasha was not kidding when she said all of them were gifted in some way.

It wasn’t only about Academy, most of them were either good at sports or arts, some of them were pretty good at politics and science. The good and the bad was included in the files, and Wanda realized that even if everything was looking pretty and organise there were internal problems that sometimes affected the overall performance.

Wanda learned that one of her students was a loner, not a single friend and with absent parents. Another one lost her parents in a car accident and her big sister ended up taken care of her. One of the kids was living with his uncles, and another one found recently he was adopted with a real father that almost killed him when he went to confront him.

Wanda jumped on her chair when the door of the classroom open and a group of girls came right in, all of them talking loudly until they realized the room was not empty.

“Oh, sorry I…we didn’t know there was someone in here already…” America hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide open observing the woman sitting at the professor’s desk.

“Oh, please!” Wanda stood up smiling tentatively at the group. “Come on in, we’re about to start.”

“What’s the delay, Chavez? Move it!” Yelena went right in pushing through the group until she stopped dead on her tracks, scowling openly at the woman standing in the room. “Who the hell are you?”

“Yelena!” Kate and America exclaimed at the same time, Wanda opened her eyes surprised, she took a breath trying to calm down her beating heart.

“I’m Wanda Maximoff, the new teacher.”

______________________________________________________________

Rain had started falling again.

This time around, it was a mild drizzle with low temperatures and strong winds. Wanda sighed looking at the time on her watch walking down the halls leading to the nursery. Even with the bad weather, and with the tiredness of the day, Wanda couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. She was back in the classroom, and she had enjoyed the class itself too much. Her students were smart, they would participate in every activity she proposed and in general the different classes she had given that day had been a success.

It was as if she was recovering a small part of her life she lost all those years ago.

With her body almost giving up, she turned around the corner noticing at that moment the loud conversation at the other end of the hall.

Loki crossed his arms glaring at the five year old boy that was glaring at him equally annoyed, America and Kate both hid their smiles behind their hands while Yelena and Kamala were just waiting exasperated.

“Now!” Loki barked to which the boy shook his head stomping his feet on the ground.

“No!”

Inside the room, Billy and Tommy were watching wide eye the scene, their eyes lit up as soon as they saw the familiar form of their mother coming to the room.

“MOM!” The group jumped at the exclamation; Wanda softened slightly kneeling down to receive the hugs from the twins.

“Professor Maximoff.” America turned slightly, softening under the scene. “Oh, we didn’t know you have children. Hey there, guys.”

America knelt down offering a half smile to the twins, the two boys glanced at her then back at Wanda that was smiling tiredly at everyone.

“Yes, they are Billy.” She said pointing to the boy wearing the green shirt. “And Tommy. Children, these are my students, America, Kate, Yelena, Kamala and Loki.”

Yelena crossed her arms, though she was impressed by the memory of the new teacher. Kate and Kamala did the same as America kneeling down to greet at the twins while Loki and the blond-haired kid were still in a glaring contest.

“Hi.” Tommy mumbled snuggling closer to Wanda, the young woman glanced at Loki then at the kid.

“Are you guys okay? You need any help?” She asked tentatively, America chuckled standing up while shaking her head.

“Nah, this is…like their bonding time, happens every time.”

“Balder refuses to use his jacket, Loki refuses to get him out of here without the jacket.” Continued Kate shrugging.

“And then, Loki would blackmail the kid, and everyone is happy.” Finished Yelena eyeing the woman in front of her.

Wanda lifted her eyebrows half amused and half confused by this, she glanced at Tommy and Billy both of them looking in disapproval.

“I see, guys go for your jackets, we’re leaving.” Wanda watched as Tommy grabbed Billy’s hand dragging him back inside the room.

“They’re so cute, Professor.” Kate offered shyly.

“Thank you, they can be a handful, though.” Wanda replied softening slightly. “Double the trouble, but quite worth it.”

America was about to speak when Loki huffed lifting his arms in defeat.

“Fine! One ice cream and one chocolate bar, nothing else.”

Balder smirked nodding stretching his little hand to him, before running back to the nursery. Loki shook his eyes glaring at everyone lifting a single finger.

“Not a word.” Loki straightened up directing his usual charming smile to the older woman. “Professor Maximoff, glad to see you around, I hope you have a wonderful day?”

Wanda opened her eyes slightly, her lips curling slightly at the over politeness from Loki.

“I did, thank you, Loki.”

America rolled her eyes, and Wanda realized this was really something that happened on a daily basis. She watched as her children came back in, for a brief moment she hesitated with her eyes dancing around the room then back to the twins.

“Mom, we’re ready!”

“I’m hungry.”

Wanda leaned in putting some strands of hair out of Billy’s face, “I know baby, we’re going home and making your favourite today.”

Billy’s eyes lit up nodding enthusiastically, Wanda straightened up ready to say good-bye when something else pushed inside her mind.

“Well, I think this is it for today,” she smiled at the teens grabbing the twins on each hand, she hesitated for a moment before speaking again, “I hope you kids have a great rest of the afternoon and a nice weekend.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I wish the same for you.” Loki replied bowing his head, Kamala hit him on his arm shaking her head exasperate.

“Stop the theatrics.” Kamala turned to the older woman waving slightly. “Bye, Professor, happy weekend.”

“I didn’t know she had children.” Yelena finally said once she was sure Wanda was out of earshot. “Actually, we don’t know much about her, don’t you think?”

Kamala shrugged writing over her phone, “so what? She deserves her privacy, and I think her class was pretty cool.”

“I’m not talking about that, I know it was cool.” Yelena scoffed crossing her arms. “I just…Natasha has been quite mysterious about this new teacher, and now that we met her well…she didn’t say much about herself when she introduced to us.”

“Don’t tell me you’re suspecting her of something, Yelena.” Kate shook her head bumping into the other woman. “I thought she was nice, and quite smart.”

“And beautiful.” Loki chimed in, his eyes glassing over dreamily. “Did you see her eyes? Her hair? Her face?”

America nodded standing beside Loki, Kate shot her a quick glance rolling her eyes.

“I have to agree with Loki, Professor Maximoff is quite beautiful”

“She is hot, I agree.” Yelena made a face when Kamala and Kate glanced at her. “I’m Ace not an idiot, I can say she is hot without wanting to jump her bones…I’m not like these two.”

America and Loki made a face quite offended.

“I don’t want to jump her bones!” America defended herself. “I just think she is hot!”

“I wouldn’t say know, she doesn’t look that old, but she has children, ergo she is married.” Loki replied shrugging.

“That and Sylvie probably kills him if she finds out.” Kamala mumbled chuckling, Loki flushed ready to reply until Balder grabbed his hand putting on him.

“Are we ready, Loki?”

“Let us not discuss this anymore.” Loki glared at Kamala who was about to reply with a teasing smile on her lips. “I don’t have more money to blackmail the brat over here.”

“I’m not a braaat!”

The discussion went on between Loki and Balder, America stood right beside Kate making sure Yelena dragged Kamala down the hall with the arguing from the brothers filling up the emptiness in the building. Kate turned to America, her smile growing big when she noticed the other woman looking at her with some nervousness noticeable in her posture.

“What is it?”

“Oh, no, I just…” America hesitated for a moment, she had the whole speech prepare until her eyes fell on a small lump on the ground. “What’s that?”

Kate sighed rolling her eyes, she turned to see America standing up with what look like a blue blanket with cars and football balls on it.

“I think that’s a blanket,” Kate said chuckling while looking around the place then back at America. “Do you think this belongs to one of the kids from Professor Maximoff?”

America shrugged turning around before grabbing Kate’s hand, “come, let’s see if she is still in the parking lot.”

Kate flushed nodding, her hand closing tightly around America’s one.

Wanda massaged the bridge of her nose, Tommy was complaining and she just noticed his favourite blanket was not with them. She was trying to think of a solution, she couldn’t go back to the building without putting the children out of the baby seats the rain was starting to fall harder and faster, and she was already soaking wet from the effort of putting them protectively in the car.

Thunder broke into the sky, Billy opened his eyes with tears forming in his eyes. Wanda was about to say something when her name being called made her look back. She could see America and Kate coming over, one of them holding a familiar sight.

“Oh, God, you found it!” The relief was quite evident in her face, America stood there breathing hard passing over the blanket with a smile.

“I think this is yours.”

“You don’t know how much I love you right now.” Wanda exclaimed going back in to hand the item over to Tommy.

America blushed lightly smiling sheepishly at her new teacher, Wanda was a mess at the moment but she smiled tiredly at both teens.

“Thank you, really, Tommy…he can’t sleep without that.” Wanda then opened her eyes wide looking around then pointing at her car. “Do you guys need a ride? You can’t go around with this weather…”

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry, Professor, we just thought we bring you this and then…we…go back…”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind, and it’s the least I can do…” Wanda started but Kate shook her head smiling politely at her.

“Don’t worry, Professor, really, my car is down the other parking lot.”

America furrowed her brows, then she too nodded at Wanda who smile at them.

“Okay, then, go. This rain could be bad for you guys.”

Before Kate and America could walk away, Wanda straightened up loosing her nervousness and her inadequacy with the situation itself.

“Kate! America!” the teens stopped turning around with questioning glances on their faces. “By any chance, do you know anyone interested in a babysitter job?”

America blinked a couple of times at the question, she could see the question in Wanda’s eyes as well as the small hint of desperation in her green eyes. Without thinking too much, America nodded with her lips curled into a smile.

“I am.”

Kate opened her eyes for a moment before frowning slightly, Wanda’s expression lit up and relief was quite evident in her eyes.

“You do, really?”

“Yeah, sure, when do you need me to help?” America said letting go of Kate’s hand for a moment before putting her phone out.

“Oh, well, if it is not too short notice, tomorrow at around 2pm?”

Kate crossed her arms looking everywhere but at America or their new teacher, she tried to scare her thoughts away. She tried to convince herself this was America being America and always ready to help everyone; but she couldn’t help but remember the conversation they held in the nursery.

She is hot.

So what? Professor Maximoff was off limits, right? First, she was a teacher, and second you was an adult, probably the same age as America’s sister so…Anyway, why did it bother Kate so much? It wasn’t as if America and her…as if anything was happening…

“Hey, Kate, you okay?” Kate jumped shocked, America was standing in front of her with a creased of her brows.

“yeah, you…” Kate shook her head noticing they were alone in the parking lot, under the rain of mid-afternoon. “You ready?”

“Yeah, Professor Maximoff said she will text me later for the details.” America said smiling. “You know? I just thought, she needed help and…”

“Right, and America Chavez jumped right into the rescue. As always.” Kate huffed stepping back and giving her back to the young woman. “Never mind the woman is hot as hell, right?”

“What? What are you talking about?” America was confused, Kate shot her a glare before shaking her head.

“Never mind, come Loki and the others must be waiting for us.”

Kate walked away without looking back at America, and America felt something was amiss with the sudden change of attitude from Kate but, for her life, that she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

On her car, driving down the streets through the rain and the babbling from the twins Wanda smiled in relief. She had solved the problem for the babysitter, and her appointment with Hope Pym could take place without any issue.

Finally, it seemed as if the world was smiling at her, and her life was going back to what it should have been.

The incident of that morning completely forgotten.

______________________________________________________________

#Wanda/Female!Reader #fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wandaxreader #reader #female reader #personal #MCU AU #wanda maximoff x f!reader

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pascaloverx · 1 month

Text

To Begin Again

THREE

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic.

TWO FOUR

One week since your arrival at Hogwarts has passed faster than you imagined. During this time, you discovered some things: single teachers tend to live in a building exclusive to Hogwarts, with one floor designated for each pair of teachers. Each floor is divided into two large rooms on the right and two on the left. These rooms, almost like suites, have a shared entrance between the two rooms leading to a bathroom. Meals are taken at the same time as the students but in a specific staff wing.

Before your arrival, there was a draw to determine who would share the floor and bathroom with you. To your "luck" (with irony), your floor mate is none other than Sirius Black. On the same floor as you, there are also Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange. Other married teachers or staff members of Hogwarts live in houses or mansions in the nearest village to Hogwarts. Students spend most of the school year residing at Hogwarts, being released only on festive dates and weekends if they want to spend time with their families. Not all families reside near Hogwarts or in London, so many students spend the year at Hogwarts. Harry Potter's parents, Lily and James, work at the school and live in the village. Therefore, Harry spends weekends with them. Draco Malfoy isn't as lucky. Lucius Malfoy, from what you've been told, prefers a luxurious life as CEO of a conglomerate over coming to London to visit his son. He apparently has a house in the village where he sends Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, when he's tired of marital life. She seems to be Draco's parental support. According to Remus, Narcissa volunteers frequently to help with school matters. Lucius Malfoy is a major donor of money to assist with the school's financial issues. Hermione Granger's parents are also known to make generous donations to Hogwarts, but as they are not wealthy, this means they spend more time working than being able to care for her. Therefore, she only visits them on festive dates. They apparently live in London, so it's a long train journey to get there. Just thinking about the poor girl spending much of her holidays on a train for hours makes you feel a bit exhausted. Ron Weasley is the son of two Hogwarts employees. Molly Weasley works in the school's administration, while Arthur Weasley works as a librarian. They live in a large house in the village, from what you've heard.

And those were some of the pieces of information you managed to gather during this week. McGonagall assigned you to assist two teachers in their classes on your only day off, which happens to be today. Something tells you she might not have liked you much, but perhaps she just wants you to integrate into the team. And once again, by irony of fate, you will be assisting precisely the teachers you already know: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. A curious fact is that you couldn't find out the reason why Lupin has a separate room from all the other teachers and it's so close to the school entrance.

"Excuse me, professor. May I come in to assist you on this fine morning?" You say as you enter Remus Lupin's classroom. His class takes place in an auditorium. Your voice echoes throughout the entire auditorium, and you feel embarrassed.

"Of course, please come in." Lupin replies, smiling warmly as he gestures for you to enter the classroom. The students look at you curiously, especially those who are not already your fans, like Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. You must have been the first one to, instead of fueling their rivalry, bring them together.

"Today, my dear actors, we will be doing some exercises that will prepare you for any theater play. Our first exercise and main lesson is improvisation. Professor Y/L/N and I will demonstrate it for you, and then you will practice with each other." Lupin says, gesturing for you to step onto the stage. As the students step down from the auditorium stage and take their seats as if they were spectators, you climb up, feeling uncertain if you are the best person to assist Lupin.

"Professor, who will tell you what to improvise?" Hermione Granger asks, all smart and eager. The smile she opens for being the first to ask is encouraging. You notice out of the corner of your eye Draco Malfoy sticking his tongue out towards Hermione. Harry looks at him and makes a gesture as if he's going to attack.

"I think it could be Mr. Potter. He seems eager to help us. Don't you think so, Remus?" You say, trying to attract the attention of the three students and observing them focus their attention on you. And then, when Malfoy was about to laugh at Potter, you put two fingers pointed at your eyes and then pointed them at Malfoy, as if to say, "I've got my eye on you."

"Indeed. Potter will tell us where the improvisation takes place, Granger will tell us who we are to each other, and Malfoy will tell us what we're doing. Learn that a good improvisation requires the factors: Where, Who, and What. Now let's see what my future actors have for this improvisation." Lupin seems to have noticed the same thing as you. In the end, it seems like you two make a good teaching duo.

"You're in a pub." Potter says quickly. It seems like he already had that answer ready to go. You and Remus exchange a glance and almost laugh, thinking that you'll probably have to pretend to be drunk. And the worst part, in front of the students.

"You guys are friends who have feelings for each other." Granger says after thinking for a moment. Something tells you she wants to see some good drama unfold.

"And you guys are arguing. About these feelings that Granger made up." Malfoy finishes the plot of the performance you and Lupin will have to do. You feel nervous. It's strange to do this kind of thing with someone you've known for a short time.

"You always act like this when we go out drinking. Flirting with anyone without remembering that we're together." Lupin starts the scene, giving you a slight wink while trying to pretend to be drunk and annoyed.

"That's rich coming from you. You're always out and about with a different person, like some big Casanova. Just to be clear, in a friendship, you have permission to flirt with other people." You act, portraying a sense of indignation.

"Our... our moments together should be just ours. But of course, you don't understand, how could you? You only think of yourself." Lupin says, and it's so funny the way he says it that you laugh, breaking character, but you quickly try to recover and finish the performance.

"You're mistaken, you stubborn man. I think of you. Night and day, all the time if it matters." You say, being overly dramatic, but it seems like the students and Lupin found it amusing. Your finger is pointed at the middle of Lupin's chest as if accusing him.

"Know that I think of you too. More than necessary, more than anyone would like to admit." Lupin says, holding your finger and looking deeply into your eyes. It's almost enchanting to gaze into his eyes. You both lean in closer, without breaking eye contact. Until you hear a noise like two bodies hitting the ground and immediately look down. Malfoy and Potter are fighting clumsily. You and Lupin rush down to intervene, with you holding onto Malfoy, who was pulling Potter's hair this time, and Lupin, who takes the task of lifting Potter off the ground and holding him back. No real harm came to either of them. After a stern talking-to from Lupin, both of them apologized, even Malfoy. It might have been the fear of facing McGonagall or missing the rest of the week's classes, or perhaps the prospect of their parents having to come in. You're not entirely sure what brought about the reconciliation, but it worked.

"Everyone else is dismissed. Except for Malfoy and Potter. As punishment, you'll accompany Professor Y/L/N to her next class as assistants and participate in the lesson. I'll inform the teacher of your scheduled class that you'll be otherwise occupied. When Professor Y/L/N authorizes it, you'll be released from punishment." Remus says, and you look at him in confusion. Is the punishment for them or for you?

"But Professor..." Draco and Harry speak in unison, looking at each other in surprise. You and Lupin laugh, and then you gently touch their shoulders. Then you point to the exit of the auditorium.

"Follow me, boys. Professor Black must be waiting for us." You say, leading them out. Before leaving, you wave gently to Remus, who waves back. The moments of improvisation between you are playing in your head like a movie trailer. The three of you take a long route, with Malfoy and Potter arguing about who is to blame for their punishment and which way to go. It feels like an eternity until you arrive at the hall where Sirius's class takes place.

"Got lost on the way and needed the help of two troublemakers to get to me, Y/N?" Sirius asks, looking at you with a hint of mockery. You take a deep breath because you know you can't curse him. At least not right now.

"No, Black. The two troublemakers are accompanying me as punishment, and I came to assist you in the dance class. I never imagined you'd teach this kind of class." You say, teasing Sirius, who continues with a charming crooked smile on his face.

"So, I have to inform you both that you'll be partners. We're practicing ballroom dancing today, which gives me the unique opportunity to teach this class with a partner. I'm sure Harry and Draco will manage each other just fine. In fact, I'll let you decide who will lead and who will follow." Sirius says, turning on the music for you to dance and extending his hand towards you. You smile, realizing it might be easier to handle the Potter/Malfoy rivalry than you thought.

"You handle them well. Better than I imagined. At least you know how to do that." You say as you feel Sirius' hand firmly hold your waist and guide you. One, two, three, one, two, three. You're being led by him across the dance floor, reaching certain realizations you'd rather not admit. The main one being that you're attracted to Sirius Black. The second major realization is that he's an excellent teacher.

"I know how to do many things well. I hope I can show you all of them someday. But it's easy to get them to focus in class when your lesson requires meticulous concentration. Not to mention, the music and the steps help scatter conversations." Sirius says with a playful tone, leading you through the dance with confidence.

"I find you handsome, and it makes me uncomfortable." Slips out of your mouth accidentally, and you silently thank the gods that apparently no one else heard you. Well, no one else except the idiot in front of you.

"Let me see if I got this right. Are you uncomfortable because of my beauty or because you find me handsome?" Sirius teases, poking fun at you. You're not sure how to respond, pretending to observe the students. You actually check on Malfoy and Potter, and it seems that besides finding their rhythm, they found a bit of harmony. Malfoy even let Potter lead him in the dance.

"I think it's the second option. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I didn't come here for this. I don't even know why I said that. Just pretend you didn't hear it." You deflect, stepping back a bit from Sirius. As soon as he senses your retreat, he twirls you around and steps closer to you.

"Go out with me. We can go to a bar nearby. If you want, I can invite Lupin. Maybe then you'll feel more comfortable talking about how you want..." Sirius starts to say, but you purposefully step on his foot.

"Watch what you say. The next place I hit won't be your feet." You try to sound threatening, but it doesn't seem to work. Sirius bites his lip and pulls your body close to his, making a strangely sexy dance move.

"I'm looking forward to our date tonight." Sirius says to you, then stops the dance. "Students, congratulations, you managed to concentrate enough for no one to get hurt in this class. Special congratulations to you, Potter." Sirius says, looking in the direction of Malfoy and Potter.

"And congratulations to you too, Malfoy. You two are excused from accompanying me. But no fights on the way out." You say, looking at the two of them, who nod almost in unison and quickly leave the class with the other students.

"How will we handle the bathroom schedule of the bathroom that we share, since we're going out together tonight?" You ask as you feel Sirius getting close behind you. You hear his muffled laughter near your ear and shiver all over.

"Not to be obvious, but I think we're grown-ups. We can use the same bathroom without any major issues." Sirius says, trying to sound charming, and you look at him seriously. Then you lightly slap his arm and leave the hall. After all, now you have a date, not only with one, but with two men. If that can be considered a date, after all.

23 notes · View notes