#jenna writes

[breadqueen95]

hi i love your eren insomniac au so much 😭💛 may i request for a modern au eren x reader (fem/gn) - where eren stands up for the reader from being disrespected by toxic parents? more of like a comfort hc? don’t worry if you are unable to, thank you so much for reading this & putting in so much effort to ur writing <3 have a great day lovely !!

oh my gosh thank you!!!! it's one of my favorite hcs i've written so I'm so happy you like it too! and thank you the most for being here and saying such kind things, it means a lot to me

but FUCK YEAH i can do that for you!!! i'm sorry if this is a situation you have to deal with :( i have my own set of toxic parents so i know how hard it can be. i hope this helps, even just a little <3

kind of turned into a whole ass fic???? i'm so sorry about that lol i hope it's okay!

CW: anxiety, depression, slight ptsd, heavy themes of toxic parental relationships, body issues

modern!Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader

Before

Eren knows about your family. He's known, or at least suspected, from those very first few weeks of getting to know you. He has his own issues with his dad - even though everyone's situation is different, he's come to learn how to recognize those long lasting scars in other people. It hurts him beyond belief that he can see those scars in you, his favorite person.

It was even harder seeing how deep those scars go once you two began your relationship. It took awhile for Eren to help you understand that his love for you wasn't transactional. It wasn't conditional. It didn't depend on the size of clothes you wore, or how many achievements you could tack onto your resume. That you didn't have to walk on eggshells every waking moment just to make sure you didn't misstep. He just loves you. You're still learning that, and trying to show him the very same kind of deep and unyielding love for him.

Even so, Eren has his mom. Carla has been able to show him nothing but pure and unconditional love from before he can remember - a stark contrast from Grisha. He was able to start healing and separating himself from that toxicity from a young age, and hasn't really spoken to him since. Your situation is different - both parents, both different yet similar brands of harshness, both still in contact.

It's complicated. He knows it is. You've even said it yourself.

Doesn't stop him from being so, so gentle with you. From waking up every morning ready to protect you and remind you how much he loves you. It started like that from the very first minute he lay eyes on you, when he knew instantly how much he was going to love you, to now, and every moment to come.

So when your parents kept insisting they had to meet him, Eren tried to convince you that it wasn't that important. That they could try and do this over FaceTime first, test the waters a little bit.

You honestly didn't want to share him with them at all. He's such a sacred part of your life, something so good and pure and wonderful. You're scared that if he sees where you come from, just how bad it can get with them, he'll leave.

You're always terrified that you'll scare him off.

You tell him so one night, as you're wringing your hands together, panicking after yet another passive aggressive text about meeting Eren. It stresses you out more and more every time.

Eren doesn't say anything at first. Just wraps you up in his arms. Pulls you against his warmth. Cradles you against his broad chest, stroking every part of you he can reach with a featherlight touch.

"Baby," he croons, "there's nothing you could show me that could scare me off."

Your stomach swoons every time he calls you that. Can't be helped. He giggles a little at the stutter in your breathing with the pet name, but doesn't poke fun at you just now.

"You're already so goddamn patient with me," you whisper shakily, his name for you unable to sway you from anxiety, "I just don't--"

"I love you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I will always love you. I just want you to feel safe and happy, and I'll do everything I can to make you feel that way. Got that?"

Despite the tears filling your eyes, you smile bashfully and hide your face in his neck, leaving thankful and affectionate kisses all over his warm skin.

Okay, so maybe you could do this. You have Eren.

During

After much hounding from your parents, you and Eren find yourselves standing outside the door of your parent's house. You've got a plate of brownies in one hand and Eren in the other. He runs his thumb over your knuckles rhythmically in a way that grounds you. In his other hand, he holds a bouquet of flowers for your mom, ever the gentleman. Carla raised him right.

Everyone's all smiles at first. Eren's impressed; he knows how scared you are, how nervous, but you're putting up a good front. But the more he thinks about it, the more your skill at hiding how you're feeling makes him sad. You've clearly had a lot of practice.

Your parents are showing the good parts of them. You've explained to Eren how there are good memories with them; they can be so loving, so kind. And right now, they're welcoming you home and Eren into their lives with open and loving arms. They're asking Eren all kinds of questions about his life and his interests. Asking about your relationship, how you met, things like that.

It starts to fall apart during dinner.

Eren can see that you've gotten a little more comfortable. Your shoulders aren't as tense, breaths coming a little easier. It's easy for him to understand why you're at war with yourself constantly over how you feel about them.

Then somehow everyone ends up on the subject of something you're passionate about. Eren, for one, is thrilled. Watching you talk about the things you love is one of his favorite activities. Your eyes light up in the most breathtaking way, and your smile is downright infectious. He could listen to you for hours.

"Oh boy, here we go," your mom sighs from one end of the table.

Just like that the spell is broken. Eren has a front row seat as he watches your face fall, your voice cutting off into heavy silence. Your brows knit together as you look down at your plate.

"You're obsessing again," your dad adds with a patronizing laugh.

Eren looks up and in between your parents. They laugh, looking at him as though trying to include him in whatever sick joke they think they're making.

He looks back at you. You're masking it for now, but your hands are clenched in the tightest fists he's ever seen under the table. He reaches under the table and takes the hand closest to him, and ever so gently, tries to coax your fingers open. Trying to get you to let him in.

"Sorry," you say with a self-deprecating laugh, "I know I can get carried away."

Eren's heart shatters. He doesn't know how many times you said this, mostly in the beginning of your relationship and in group settings. You're always so convinced that no one wants to hear you talk, so you end up apologizing for it.

Now he sees it. Where it comes from.

Schooling his face into a friendly expression despite his rage, he squeezes your hand, saying, "No, keep going, I love hearing you talk."

"Nah, it's okay," you shrug nonchalantly, before changing the subject.

The way you're squeezing his hand begs him to drop it. So he does.

But then it keeps going.

You reach for a second helping of something, and your mom says, "How are you still hungry?"

You don't end up getting that second helping.

You make a joke about something, wrinkling your nose in that cute little way he loves so much.

"Yeah, don't tell your coworkers that one," your dad adds in.

Eren has to watch your beautiful face fall.

You're talking about how many long hours you've worked recently, how tired you are.

Cutting you off, your mom jumps in about how hard she works. Very much indicating there's no way you can be more tired than her.

Eren sees you breaking under the weight of it all. His sweet, fiery, passionate girl, reduced to whatever palatable version of you your parents find acceptable. They've tried to make poking fun at you a bonding activity ever since he stepped into their home, and despite his stone faced reactions, they just keep going.

He has to get you out of here. His protective instincts are raging at him to just get you out.

But your mom insists on pictures. So you pose together. Full group picture first. Then one of you and Eren. Eren tries to pour every ounce of love he has into the way he holds you, but he can feel you shaking. He wants to scream, but he pastes a smile on his face instead.

Then it happens.

"TTI, sweetie."

What the fuck? What does that mean?

Then, like a soldier responding to a command, he feels you suck in your soft tummy to the point where he wonders if it's painful.

"Sorry, what does that mean?"

Eren tries to ask in what he hopes is a joking manner, but you can hear the barely suppressed anger just underneath.

"Tuck Tummy In," your mom explains with a lighthearted smile, "now smile--"

"Why would you say that to her?"

He doesn't even try to hide his outrage this time. Eren, a normally very expressive person, has spent the entire night burying his need to put the people hurting you in their place. Now he's had it.

"Eren, it's fine--"

"No, it's not," he seethes, curling his fingers around your waist in a vice grip.

Your parents are silent. No one's ever called them out like this before. You've tried to have discussions with them in the past about things like this, approaching it in a very calm, polite manner, but it always ended badly.

"There's nothing she has to fix about herself to look drop dead gorgeous for a picture. Nothing."

"It's just something we say--"

"Not anymore it's not. Not when I'm here."

You're ready for the yelling to start. You flinch, curling yourself closer into Eren's side. A kneejerk reaction cultivated by years of emotionally volatile parenting. Eren tightens his arm around you. He might be ready to go to war on your behalf, but he's gonna make sure you feel safe at the same time.

Your dad steps forward, a self righteous glare on his face as he looks at Eren.

"You don't speak to my wife that way--"

"Oh, you mean the way you've spoken to your daughter the entire night?"

Heavy silence fills the room. Eren worries that he's gone too far, but then he feels you press even closer to him. If you were upset, you'd be putting distance between you two.

Your parents look at you, expecting you to come to their defense, but you don't. You won't.

"He's r-right," you whisper shakily, "I've told you before how the kinds of things you've said tonight make me feel."

Then, like clockwork, your mom gets misty eyed. Your dad gets stern, condescending, and loud.

"I just wanted a nice night."

"Look at how you made your mother feel."

"I guess we're just the worst parents."

"We'll talk about everything soon," you murmur politely, reaching down to lace your fingers together, "but Eren and I are going home now. Thank you for dinner."

As you go to lead Eren out of there, he tugs you to a stop. You turn and look at him quizzically, wondering what else he could possibly say to them (not that you're complaining). He gives you the sweetest of smiles, the one he reserves just for you. It's the one that says, Don't worry baby. I've got you.

"Since we've already gone there, might as well add some things for the record," he says as he turns around to face them, his hand still holding yours.

"Number 1, it's a goddamn privilege to listen to her talk about anything she wants. For as long as she wants. Anyone who's in the room when she decides to share her passion should count themselves lucky."

Tears gather in your eyes. The happiest of tears.

"Number 2, there are days when I barely see her eat a thing. Those are the days she tries to make herself as small as possible, shrink in on herself. Today was a good day. You took that from her and you should be fucking ashamed."

You start to smile, so in love with this man. Even as your dad starts to raise his voice at Eren's cursing.

"Number 3," Eren says assertively, silencing him, "her belly, the one you shame her for, is one of my favorite parts about her."

Your parents are silent. They stare at Eren in shock, not daring to believe someone could call them out on behaviors they've refused to acknowledge for so long.

Eren turns back to you, green eyes shining with love, and says, "Ready to go?"

You nod. He wraps an arm around you to tug you into him, and leads you out of the warzone.

After

When you and Eren first get in the car, doors slamming shut behind you, he's instantly apologetic.

"I'm so sorry, I let my emotions get the best of me. I never should've gone that far--"

You cut his words off by kissing him, trying to pour every bit of gratitude and love into the way your lips move against his.

The kiss ends, but you stay close to him, resting your forehead against his.

"I'm gonna have a hard time tonight," you warn, your entire body trembling with the emotional aftershock of your confrontation. Once the adrenaline wears off it'll be even worse.

"I know," he whispers, kissing your nose lightly, "it's okay. I'd be more worried if it wasn't."

He goes to pull away so he can start the drive home, his protectiveness ever pushing him to get you to a safe place, but you stop him. You place both hands on his face to bring him back to you, kissing him softly again. You open your eyes, meeting the vivid green of his, and you fall even more in love with him.

"Thank you. For keeping me safe."

"I'd do anything for you."

He says it so simply. So factually. He leans forward to kiss you once more, then finally tears makes himself pull away so he can start the car.

As Eren starts the drive down the sleepy residential street, he keeps one hand on your knee, making smoothing circles on your skin. You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth, kissing his loving fingers, before setting it down again.

"I love you so much," you say.

"Love you more," he answers.

*******

And that night is bad.

The hurt sets in and pulls you under. Your self-esteem, already so fragile, seems to break apart from under you. You feel meaningless and empty.

That's what happens when the people who're supposed to love you the most reduce you to a shell of a person. When they work tirelessly to smother every part of what makes you you. When they dampen that fire that keeps you going, gives you purpose.

It's what they've been doing all your life.

But now you have Eren.

The darkness doesn't feel as all encompassing as it has before. He doesn't let you isolate yourself, knowing it's your self-destructive instinct to do so. Eren keeps you close to him, the best comfort there could possibly be.

He gets you out of the clothes you trapped yourself in to impress them, getting you into a hot shower with him so he can wash your hair for you. He holds you close under the hot stream of water, kissing every inch of your skin he can reach.

Afterwards, Eren dresses you in the most comfortable clothes he can think of. The ones he's seen you happiest in. It just so happens to be one of his t-shirts and a clean, comfortable pair of underwear.

Eren doesn't think he's ever seen you more beautiful.

He curls up with you on the couch, turning on your favorite comfort show to try and distract you. He holds you as close as he can, enveloping you in gentle touches and soft words.

You don't have the words to process everything that happens tonight. Eren doesn't expect you to. He just holds you, showing you how much he loves you. How much he values you. How he can't live without you.

As you climb into bed with him that night, Eren sees you poking at your belly, mouth twisting in distaste.

He reads you better than anyone in the world. Even in the darkness of your bedroom, he can feel how unhappy you are. He can practically hear the hurtful words you hurl at yourself in your head.

So he rolls on top of you, settling himself so you're nose to nose. You look up at him with big eyes, and Eren can't help but smile. He leans down and kisses you.

"You're so gorgeous, y'know that?"

You roll your eyes, and you open your mouth, ready to brush off his statement. But he keeps going.

"I'm so serious," he says with a laugh, "I can't even pick which part of you I love the most."

He bends down to kiss you again, his unbound brown strands acting as a curtain for both of you.

"There's this part," he murmurs as he kisses you again.

"Then there's this part," he whispers, bending down farther to kiss your neck. You sigh, reaching up to weave your fingers through his soft hair.

He presses an open mouthed kiss to your collar bone, whispering against your skin. You can't even process what he's saying anymore. The way he kisses you is enough to make every thought leave your brain.

Then somehow he's slithered down to where his face is level with your stomach. You pull it in self-consciously, trying to tug him back up to eye level, but he stubbornly stays right where he is.

"Now right here," he murmurs huskily as he lifts your shirt, "is my absolutely favorite part of you, pretty girl."

Eren's not lying. He's shown how much he loves your tummy before. He wraps his long fingers around your waist on either side, dipping his head to kiss the soft skin he loves so much.

You simply lay back and let him love you, tired of fighting it tonight. You revel in the way he adores you so honestly, so openly, so unconditionally.

Both of you know it'll never be easy, not with your histories. But Eren showed tonight that he's willing to march into battle for you to keep you safe, to prove to you how important you are.

You love him. He loves you. Even when your family makes you doubt your worth, that'll never change.

***

Writing this was like therapy. Hope it was okay <3

Request here

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren headcanons #eren yeager x reader #eren fluff #comfort fic #aot headcanons #modern au eren #jenna writes #he's my rotten soldier #my sweet cheese #my good time boy #no but seriously in a modern au he would be so sweet

[theonethinginlife]

"The baby gurgles, a happy little sound that Sonny’s already in love with, but the curiosity on his face stays, just as Sonny realizes that there is, in fact, a lot his son doesn’t yet know about his mother, because Amanda Rollins has never been very good at talking about how wonderful she is.

Luckily, Sonny’s got that covered."

Sonny Carisi tells a newborn Nicky Rollins-Carisi about how he fell in love with his mother.

#svu fic #rollisi #sonny carisi #amanda rollins #jenna writes

[jennagrinsoverml]

Title: A Father’s Love

Chapters: 5/?

Rating: T

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Hawkmoth, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Summary:

The next chapter of my Good Parent Gabriel AU where Gabriel’s still a jerk and supervillain, but also actually cares about his son.

This is the second half of this universe's version of the Bubbler episode!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ml fic #good parent gabriel agreste #ml origins #good dad au #jenna writes #adrinette #adrienette #jennawrites

[castielsprostate]

having talented friends is so wild!!!!!! like. YOU!!!!!!!!!! YOU made THAT. YOU DID THAT?!?!?!?! YOU created!!!! THAT!!!!!!!!!!! WOAH!!!!!! praise!!!!!!!! praise for one thousand years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#sjonnie.text #this is about any skill by the way #writing art music crochet knitting editing #literally so so so so wild #yes this is about isaac and cody and taylor and nick and joey and dean and rain and mer and greg and jo and amanda and pie and zeph and jes #and daphne and jack and merv and angie and #sam and dex and jenna and tj and nahla and jenny and val and em and literally every single other one of my mutuals!!!!!!!! GAH!!!!! #you all are so talented it's SO cool #40k

[crazyoffher]

THOUGHTS & PRAYERS.

jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: drunk at a party, it takes you more effort to calm jenna's actions than you expected.

warnings: smut (18+) — masturbation, strap-on referred to as “cock”, praise, teasing, small mention of light choking, finger sucking, nipple sucking, slapping (yippee!), shortly withheld orgasm, begging -> mentions of alcohol (drunk!jenna), weed, and use of vulgar language. dom!r + sub!j

word amount: 4700+

a/n: happy (very late 😭) birthday, wes :) @wesstars

“Maybe we should go, Jen.”

You tugged the short girl by her arm mindlessly, failing to remember her drunken, unstable frame of mind. She stumbled into you, her hands moving to stabilize herself on your chest with a sharp yelp of terror. 

Your hands wrapped around her waist to keep her upright, sending fake smiles to those who eyed the two of you. “Sorry! This is what I mean, Jenna. You’ve had enough to drink; why don’t we call it a d-”

“No!” Jenna’s face buried itself into your chest for a split second, seemingly to catch her breath, before she pushed herself off you with a lazy grin. “I’m fine, love. Go,” she pushed your chest playfully, “and enjoy yourself for once! I’ll be by the table.”

Her speech slurred, and you reminded yourself to give a couple of her friends an earful later for getting her into that state. You watched with a sigh as she stumbled into the house's living room, shoulders tense from your worry, and you laughed at the irony of her words. She was the one causing you the stress she claimed you needed to get rid of, so how could she advise you to unwind?

You followed your feet to the backyard of the house, where the view of a softly illuminated pool area and the scent of the outdoors offered a welcome contrast to the raucous noise of people chatting loudly over booming music and the lingering smell of alcohol and marijuana (along with whatever else was circulating inside the house). The only break in the noise was the group of four people by the hot tub, engaged in animated and playful banter.

The pool shone as you grew closer to it, sitting down on the edge of it with your knees hugging up to your chest. You never liked loud things or partying, and everybody you met and knew found humor in it, as that was mainly what your entire acting career was built around. You couldn’t go a month without being dragged to a lousy party that consisted of at least one person trying to get you high, and hell, the only reason you went to the one you sullenly found yourself at currently was because of your girlfriend.

“Uh, hey.”

Your mind snapped away from your lost thoughts, and you turned to be met with a girl who gave you a delicate smile, wrapped in a towel with wet hair dripping down the top of her back and onto the covering fabric. “Can I sit with you?”

You only nodded, the tips of your fingers drumming along to a beat that played in your head, to try and disregard the half-naked girl beside you. She didn’t seem to be much of a bother, though, awaiting only the soft company that she felt you would provide.

“Not a talker, I suppose?” Her head quirked up from its formerly bent stature, turning with raised eyebrows in the hope that you’d answer her question, which you did. “Not really with people I meet, let alone a girl that seems to be naked underneath a towel.”

Her smile grew at the monotone joke you spurred, and she let out a mild breath to resemble the humor she found in it. It was only when she first sat down that you realized, from your peripherals, that there was no strap of a bra or bathing suit visible on her shoulders, and you almost knocked yourself in the head in a physical manner for not realizing sooner.

You questioned her. “Come on; aren’t you freezing? It’s like 45 degrees out.” Your neck craned away, feeling your tenses of shivers overcome you, and you pondered how the girl seemed unfazed by the chilly weather. “I grew up in Minnesota. I used to go skinny dipping in frozen lakes, so I think I’m good for this weather.”

Her speaking to you made you feel uneasy in a way, considering the lack of clothes she stood in and the thoughtless conversation she was advancing toward you. Jenna would undoubtedly give you an earful for even allowing her near you, but you shook the thought away at the girl's following words and the overcoming fact that Jenna was probably cornered by flirtatious men at that moment.

“Plus, this wasn’t even my idea.” She gestured to her covered body, and you picked up on the fact that she was referring to her lack of clothing. “It was my boyfriend's over there. Bet me around twenty bucks I couldn’t last in that volcano pool even in this weather, but that sucker quit before I was even getting started.”

Her finger stretched outward, pointing in the direction of a man covered in two towels, visibly shaking from the frostiness, and you let out a small snicker at the sight. Alright, maybe it wasn’t such a tense situation then, but you still couldn’t help but worry about Jenna in the back of your mind and whether you should go check on her.

As if the universe could read your mind, your phone buzzed with a custom ring that you had designed for Jenna’s messages, and the semi-naked girl's eyes widened at the sight of you practically clawing into your pants for the device. You pulled it out with strength, almost dropping it into the pool in the process, before hurryingly clicking on Jenna’s message.

Com gt me i thined ive hac enuh two drivnk

Where are you?

K154hen flerr

“What do you think this says?” You pointed your phone toward the girl, darted a finger at the most recent text sent by Jenna, and her eyes squinted in an attempt to decode. “Kitchen floor?”

“Bingo.” You rang, pulling yourself up from the concrete floor, and the girl held onto her towel as she managed to get on her feet. You darted your eyes between her and her boyfriend, who still sat there, wrapping a third towel around him that seemed to be for the remaining people in the hot tub, and you raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to go and retrieve my drunk girlfriend.”

“I might as well go with you,” she said as she adjusted the towel, turning to glance at her boyfriend. “I left his and my clothes in a room upstairs, and I think he needs his.”

“Be my guest.” You moved to the side, allowing the unnamed girl to go ahead, to which she sauntered, giving her boyfriend a warning of her temporary absence as she headed up the small hill to the back door with you trailing behind. The stench of weed and alcohol hit you like a flash flood, and you mentally recoiled at the stench that seemed to have grown stronger.

“Jenna?” You called out as you turned to the kitchen, swerving past girls and guys who were spilling their drinks, and you spotted the girl on the floor with a tired expression etched on her face. A smile grew on her lips at the sight of you, though it dropped almost immediately when her eyes met the semi-naked girl behind you, who whispered to you with curious eyes, “Hey, I think you forgot to mention you were dating Jenna Ortega.”

“Hey!” You lunged forward at Jenna’s attempt to stand up, holding the drunken girl in your grip when she stumbled on nothing but air, though that didn’t deter her attitude toward your new friend. “Keep away from my girlfriend!”

“Jenna,” you warned, sending the girl behind you a look of sorrow, to which she just nodded, “Relax, baby. You’re drunk, you know that?”

“Nuh-uh.” She pouted, clinging onto your torso in an iron-grip hug to try and divert you away from the girl, sending her looks of anger that she seemed to back up at. “I’ll go get my clothes.” She pointed to the stairs behind her all the while backing up, to which you nodded while trying to stabilize Jenna further.

“Yeah, leave, you whore!”

“Jenna!” You scolded her, and she muttered something incomprehensible before burying her face in your chest. You could smell the mixture of alcohol and her perfume, and that alone told you enough about her current state. “You got it?”

“Mhm.” She hummed when you had to pull her away from you and set her on her feet, only for her to take one step forward and crash into the table in front of her. You held back a laugh and put on a face of worry, pulling Jenna up only to see her laughing at her tumble.

Once more, she wrapped her arms around you and buried her face into your chest with a sigh, her drunken haze spurring more than just her inability to walk stably. “Do you know what I would love to do?” Her words were slurring, and she gave out a slight giggle at the end of her sentence, giving you a small idea of her next words.

“What is it?”

She spoke one word that you couldn’t comprehend before she giggled again, moving her face from your chest to raise herself an inch or two on the tips of her shoes, her lips grazing your ear as she spoke out a slurry, “For you to bend me over this table and fuck me raw for everybody to see.”

Your eyes widened immediately, and you felt a small burn in your stomach when her fanged teeth nibbled gently at your earlobe and her hands slid down your abdomen. You could only thank God and your alcohol-addicted party-thrower friend for managing to get 95% of the party attendees drunk out of their minds.

“Freaky and tempting,” you said, leaning into Jenna’s touch and watching a small grin tug its way onto her face, “but no.” And so you pushed her away, getting a small whine out of her while her hands bawled into fists on your shirt, trying to pull you closer to no avail.

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, your hand gripping the base of her right one as you tugged her along and out of the kitchen area. “Now come on. I can’t drive you home without the fear of you somehow making us crash, so you are going upstairs.” You pointed to the staircase that the two of you advanced toward, and Jenna let out a small giggle at the thought of you and her alone in a guest bedroom, her mind rushing to dirty thoughts.

It took a while, with emphasis on the ‘while’, to get Jenna up the stairs; her legs seemed to have forgotten how to raise themselves, so with multiple rounds of struggle, you ended up dragging her by her torso up the stairs while she laughed wildly. Your key plunged into the hole of the lock, cracking open the door with the small piece of metal your friend had gifted you when he first bought the mansion, seeing as he kept all his guest doors locked for privacy.

“Okay, ther- baby, no.” A grunt left your mouth when Jenna attempted to pull you down on the bed with her; a loud whine of her own left her mouth when you pulled away your hand that was formerly in her grip, trying to be pushed down into her crotch.

Her head dug into the bed, whining from the sexual denial you granted. “Why not?” 

“I’m not going to touch you when you can’t give me a truthful form of consent, baby. I’ll be back.” You turned to the door, shaking your head at Jenna’s loud groan at the idea of your temporary departure. “We’re dating, for fucks sake! How much more consent could you need?”

With a slight hop in your step, you hurried down to the kitchen, where you had previously encountered chaos, to get water bottles with the intention of trying to sober Jenna up. You ran into your friend on the way back up, and he gave you a good laugh at your explanation regarding Jenna before approving your request to stay the night.

“Just don’t fuck in my bed, ‘aight?”

“I promise I won’t!” You meant it at the time, though your statement didn’t withhold itself later, to his demise.

“Jenna?- oh!” You shut the door behind you quickly, gulping at the sight of Jenna sprawled out on the bed, her pants long discarded on the edge of the bed along with her underwear, and her hand in between her legs. She moaned breathlessly, finding relief in rolling her hips into her hand, and she bit her lip to suppress a moan when she locked eyes with you.

“Please, baby, this isn’t enough.” She begged, her hand circling her clit with a sloppy pace, and her heaving breaths contracted her sentence. “Need you so bad, please.”

Your hand dove for the door handle from behind you, turning the lock, and that gave Jenna a glint of excitement; she’d finally get what she desired and-

“No, and drink these.” You put your hand up, referring to the four water bottles that you managed to stack into a single hand, before walking forward to set them down on the nightstand beside the bed.

Jenna’s hand retracted from her clit, the nub throbbing with need, and she pulled herself up with the remaining strength that held her to sit on the edge of the bed, facing you. “I can see it,” and even through the slurs, her voice still sounded like honey, “You want it too, and this is me giving you my co-consent, or whatever the hell it is you want.” Her arms stretched forward, grabbing you by the shirt and pulling you flush against her, hands snaking to your bottom half with an erratic shiver from you.

“Please,” Her thighs managed to encapture your left leg, and she wasted no time in thrusting her hips into your clothed body, a burning sensation pooling its way back into her stomach. “Fuck, I need you, ri-what the-?”

She yelled out in shock, pulling away from you and moving to wipe off the liquid you had thrown at her face. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?”

You sighed, closing the cap of the now half-empty water bottle before throwing it toward her. “Is that bringing you to life, finally?” 

“I’m not drinking this.” She argued, throwing it toward you just for you to deflect it and toss it back in her lap. It only took the look in your eye for Jenna to open the bottle and start drinking, shrinking under your dead gaze and dribbling water on herself.

She maneuvered around on the bed in discomfort from both her wet shirt and her aching clit, moving to discard her shirt. Jenna’s body was breathtaking, and she still found hope that she’d get what she desired most when you couldn’t tear your eyes off of her perky breasts no matter how hard you tried, eyes darting back and forth to try and not make it obvious, but she could see right through you.

“(Y/N),” she whispered, her words like silk, and you turned your head to meet her gaze. “Please.” 

Her voice, formerly smooth, had turned desperate, her thighs rubbing against one another to find a sense of relief, and she whimpered at the small senses of pleasure while making eye contact with you. You practically drooled at the sight of her completely naked, desperate for your touch, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold off.

“Jenna?” Her head shot up at your voice, the same sense of desperation lingering in her eyes and through the small whimpers that left her mouth. “What’s your last name?”

“Ortega. Is that good enough confirmation for you now?” Her voice grew in angst, becoming more deterred by each moment you left her naked, completely vulnerable, in front of you.

“Alright.”

You sighed, and before Jenna could comprehend what you had said, you were on top of her with your legs entrapping her thighs, pulling her into a brutal kiss that she immediately reciprocated. Her hands roamed your body, sliding underneath your shirt to feel the way your muscles contracted under her touch, sending excessive shivers down your back that she ached to deepen.

In a merciless grind against your clothed core, Jenna's hands dug down to your belt, only to be slapped away and repositioned above her head, linked together as your hand bound them with your wrist. Her back met the bed, and you wasted no time in angling her head to the side with your other hand to sink your teeth into her neck flesh, like a vampire, to create a later painful and dark hickey—a marking.

“Fuck.” She moaned out, eyes shut, with a whimper to follow at the piercing mania. As you felt up her waist, your fingers trailed along the center of her body before you licked her neck, moving your hand per the arch her back made. Jenna’s fingers dug into your scalp, pulling you closer to her neck while she resumed her hip movement.

“Come here,” you whispered, removing yourself from Jenna. A whine fell from her lips until she was directed onto your waist, her breasts jumping straight in your face, and you sneered in satisfaction. Your hands ran up and down the outline of her body, feeling the way her body curled inward from her perfect figure, and you always made sure to acknowledge it.

Your eyes traced from where your hands led before meeting her gaze with a tilt of your head, and how your eyes looked oh-so innocent drove Jenna’s mind wild, a drastic comparison forming from her desperate, needy eyes. She followed your eyes as you moved your head forward, taking a nipple into your mouth, sucking on it feverishly. You relished the way Jenna reacted: a loud moan, head flying back, and her hands digging into your scalp to push you further into her, if possible.

“Agh- fuck!” 

The contact itself wasn’t all that pleasurable, but the recognition that it was your mouth on her body was enough to send her mind spiraling. She was too swept up in the lust, acting as if she had never experienced one’s touch, to pay attention as your fingers slid into the tiny space between her core and your waist until one of your fingers bumped against her clit. A loud gasp erupted from her, and her hips immediately ground down into your hand.

“Baby, no,” you warned, but she didn’t stop her movements, pushing and rolling her hips into your hand to gain sensational pleasure. Boldly, she reached both her hands down to grasp at yours and push it further into her core, but her plan would not succeed by itself.

You pushed your body forward, leading Jenna’s movements to a halt in a collapsed state. Now resuming the position on her back, she let out a whine that grew into a loud yelp when your hand met her dripping pussy with a harsh smack. “I said no; you got that?”

When she didn’t reply, you sent another smack to her pussy that made her legs shake, a blissful whine erupting from her, and she nodded her head eagerly. “Yes!”

“Good girl,” you purred, leaning your weight down to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. Your fingers lingered on her cheek, running their tips along her jawbone, before you withdrew your hand to deliver a light smack to the skin, compelling Jenna to groan and bite her lip. “You’ll never realize how mad you drive me.”

Jenna’s eyes widened when she felt a hard surface rut against her dripping core, drowning the surfacing fabric of your pants in her slick, and she bit back moans at the slow pace you ground on her. “You’ve had that the whole night?”

“I didn’t expect you to get drunk, baby,” your thumb encircled her lips, “and I didn’t want to do anything else tonight but fuck you rough in that pool outside, but this will do.” 

Jenna sucked on your finger when you inserted it in her mouth, running her tongue up and down the skin, and it gave you a purposeful reminder of how she’d suck off your strap-on any day, her knees constantly bruised from the wooden flooring she’d kneel on while whoring out her mouth for your cock.

The imagery that flashed through your mind made you drive your thumb inside her deeper while your other hand worked at your belt, taking off the leather lining to release the grip it had on your waist. Instead of unbuttoning the clothing article, you simply unzipped it to open the crotch and wasted no time in pulling out the silicone material, pushing the tip against Jenna’s clit to send her mind spiraling.

She let out pitiful moans as you continued to finger-fuck her mouth, ‘accidentally’ pushing the silicone tip further into her clit and making her hips buck up in desperation, and her teary, doe-eyed pupils looked up at you with silent pleads. You enjoyed the view more than anything; finding Jenna underneath you, so needy and ready for your cock, was a sight people yearned for, but only you could ever get it.

“You want it, hm?” Your hips drew forward with a stern smirk growing on your lips, swiftly entering the tip halfway into her before snapping your hips back, and Jenna bit at your thumb. The hair that covered her face in her disheveled state jumped up as she nodded her head eagerly, finding difficulty in begging when your thumb was knuckle-deep in her mouth, tickling at her throat.

“I can tell; you’re practically drooling, baby.” A dribble of spit was rolling down her chin, and you knew it was solely because of your thumb shoved deep into her mouth, but why waste a perfect opportunity for teasing? It’d be so unlike you.

With a loud pop and a string of saliva attached, you removed your thumb from Jenna’s mouth, and she let out sharp breaths that soon grew into whines of discomfort. Her whines grew heavier as she started to grind her hips into your cock, her head flung back, and her hands gripped the bedsheets with intense strength while she tried to bring herself to orgasm from just grinding on you.

“No, alright? Can you hear me this time?” You pushed down on her hips in an attempt to still them, but your words only fell on deaf ears. Her movements were unwavering, and she pressed herself against you while whining louder and louder. Her back arched, and her nipples hardened from the intensity of what she was feeling, all the while disobeying your command purposefully just so she could feel something.

A shaky moan escaped her lips when your hand brought itself forward for a harsh smack to her breast, immediately taking two fingers to tug at her nipple afterward and leaving Jenna to choke for air. “What, you can’t fucking listen to me? I said no.”

Jenna never got her chance to apologize insincerely, flaring her mouth with the expectation of words to come out, but the only thing that left those plump lips was a high-pitched moan at the unexpected movement of you sinking your entire cock into her. Despite having no neural connection with the silicone that drove your girlfriend crazy, you could feel Jenna stretch around it, and the acknowledgment alone could have left you braindead.

“Fuck,” you groaned, finding pleasure in the dumbed-up expression on Jenna’s face alone, “taking me so fucking well. I can almost feel you, baby; it’s driving me insane.” Your hips retracted with no intention of slowing down, finding enjoyment in the tormented countenance that shone on Jenna, the pain and pleasure mixture practically splattering on her face.

You thrust along at a moderate speed, holding Jenna’s waist and upholding her slightly to drive your cock deeper into her, forming her into a moaning mess in a matter of seconds. Even through the loud music booming from outside the room, your attention was focused on the breathtaking girl in front of you, all submissive and so needy for you with those pleading whines that left her mouth, mindlessly begging you to go faster.

“Yeah, want me to go faster, hm?” Jenna’s head perked up at your inquiry, bobbing back and forth in a wordless answer, and you gripped her nipple tight once more. “You have a voice. Use it.”

She let out a whiny “please” before reaching up to grasp your hand that was around her breast for support, discreetly trying to roll her hips further into your cock. “I said to stop doing that.” You tugged at her nipple upward, farther than last time, and Jenna let out a shriek at the shock of pain that inflicted her. “A simple please won’t get you anywhere; you want to act like a whore tonight? Then beg like one.”

The only thing that left her lips was a grunt when you snapped your hips forward, bottoming into her with a single movement, and the slowed retraction of your hips was enough to get her going. “Fuck, please, baby! I need you so bad…” Her words droned out in a sobbing tone, throwing her head back in disoriented whines. “Need you deep in me right now. Please.”

You bent down to give her a kiss of appreciation before driving your hips deep inside her. A girthy moan left her lips that turned into high-pitched moans when you thrust faster into her, holding on to her hips for support. You met her eyes, melting in the way they looked up at you with a combination of gratitude and pleasure. Oh, how she looked so pretty under you.

Your pace grew faster by the second, sweat beads forming at the edge of your hairline while your hand dove down, rubbing Jenna’s aching clit. Her back arched up almost immediately, letting out a moan that you’d be surprised nobody heard even through the music that played through the house, droned out between the two of you behind the locked door. Your eyes lingered on the way her thighs started to tremble and the way her breaths grew heavier between moans, making you smirk in satisfaction.

“God, I wish I could feel you, ‘cause I know that you would feel so good.” You breathed, unintentionally letting out a small moan that was soon discarded from Jenna’s mind when you snapped your hips roughly, sending her mind spiraling. “You’re close, hm? Think you can hold it off for a little, baby?”

“I-I’m not sure,” she managed to say, her mind dumbing down when your hand slithered up her chest to squeeze lightly at her neck. Her pleasure increased with each passing second, and her cunt ached for a release that she knew she could not grant without making you angry at her for disobeying.

“Just a little longer, okay?” You reassured her, not failing to notice the way your movements became more restricted. Jenna’s walls tightened to hold back her orgasm, which desperately ached against the walls of her cunt. Her breathing labored as her hands clawed their way up to your shoulders, pushing you down and against her to hook her thighs on your hips.

Her head leaned into the crook of your neck, filthy moans leaving her mouth instantly when you spewed out the words, “Cum for me,” and so she did. As she rose to her high, your hands dove to her back, arms encircling her torso. With each passing second, her body trembled increasingly, until the only sensation left for your hands to hold onto was the feeling of her labored breathing.

One of your hands made its way to her chest, dipping between the small gap of her breasts to settle over her heart, soothing the area with your thumb while you directed her breathing to try and ease her mind. “Are you okay?”

She only nodded her head, her hands sliding their way up to the back of your head to pull you in for a deep kiss, showcasing her appreciation despite her former misbehaving antics. You gave her a solemn smile, rehooking both your hands on the small of her back to push her onto your lap. Your back met the headboard, and Jenna’s head dipped down to give you one more kiss. Shivers ran down her spine when your breath tickled her ear.

“Think you can give me one more?”

☟

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @annalestern @rhythm-catsandwine @yara124 @daryldixonsw1fe @alexkolax @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @n0vabug @idkwimdtbh @yolehiho @likefirenrain @ctrlamira @lovelyy-moonlight @dunohilly @jjsmaybank20 @xzennypennyx

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #celebrity x reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader smut #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter smut #wednesday addams x reader #lorraine day #writing #fanfiction #smut #lesbian

[jybyls]

Middle of the night

Request by anonymous here

Warnings: pure smut, g!p!reader, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, edging ig, i think that's all

Words: 1.4k

Tara's POV:

It's currently 3 a.m. and I've been awake for an hour now, I can't sleep for one really specific reason:

I'm horny.

I woke up at 2 a.m. after an erotic dream with my girlfriend, and now I can't get it out of my brain. I need her now, but I feel kinda guilty waking her up for this. She won't get that mad if I do wake here up, right ?

Ah, fuck it, she'll eventually forgive me.

“Hey, love, wake up.” I nudged her arm softly just enough to wake her up. “Baby ? What's wrong ?” Her eyes slowly opened, but she quickly sat up, analazing my body. I could read panic in her eyes, so I immediately calmed her down, not wanting her to think something bad happened.

“Don't worry, nothing bad happened, it's just... I'm horny.” I looked at her eyes, biting my lips waiting for her answer. She let out a small laugh as her body relaxed. She slightly shook her head before looking back up at me. “Oh my god. Are you serious ?” She asked still in disbelief that I woke up her because of my horniness, “Yes, very serious. I need you to fuck me, y/n. Please.” I could tell she was trying her best not to break the eyes contact, but she misserably failed and looked away.

However, my eyes didn't leave her face, only waiting for her to look back at me. When her eyes were back on mine, it took her a few seconds to breathe out her next words, “You're crazy, Tara.” She looked away once again, but this time, I held her chin with my fingers to make her look right back at me. Even with the darkness of the room, the only light being the moon reflection through our widow, I could still see how red she became, and I planned on making her redder.

“Then, fuck the craziness out of me.” I whisper in her ear, I couldn't help but smirk at her reaction. Her eyes widden and I could feel her face heating up on my fingertips.

Isn't it insane how someone can look this flustered, and yet that same person can take your ability to walk away ?

“So ? What do you say ?” I teased her a little more, which seemed to have unlocked something in her brain because she finally gave me an answer.

“I'm down.” Without missing a beat she got on top of me and kissed me, our tongues fought for dominance, but I eventually let her win (the woman has too much ego), her hands were rooming around my body quickly undressing me, leaving me with just in my panties. Her mouth left mine to press hot kisses all over my skin. I let out a breathy moan when I felt her mouth on my right breast, she was being taking her time but my hunger was too big for her little games so I gripped her hair harshly to pull her more into me.

She moaned at the sudden action. Her moan was surprisly loud until I realised pushing her into me and also made her bulge jerk against my thigh. She repositioned herself between my legs, and this time she started to grind against my still covered cunt, my hips instantly followed her mouvement. She switched from my right breast to the left one, giving it as much attention.

We were grinding against each other like dogs in heat. Our make-out session was initiated again after she left her marks everywhere her mouth went. I was starting to get impatiant, the need to feel her was becoming unbearable, I let my hand travel down inside her grey sweats pants, rubbing her through the fabric of her boxers, she instinctively jerked against my hand.

“Tara,” She breathed out, “let's stop the teasing, alright ?” For this once she looked straight in the eyes, lust and desire being the noly things I read in them, I can't resist to that look and she knows it.

“Alright.” I whispered, fuck she can be intimidating. She kept her eyes on mine as she slowly goes down to my private area, using her teeth to take my panties off. She carelessly throw them somewhere in the room before going back between my thighs, I could feel her hot breath on my clit, making me shiver under her. She didn't waste any more time and started attacking my clit, sucking, biting, nipping, kissing it, she was already starting to abuse my pussy within 10 seconds of her mouth on it. Her eyes never left mine during the entire process until now her focused was fully on my swollen cunt.

Not that I'm complaining.

She pushed my thighs higher to have better access to my entrance. She suddenly slammed two fingers inside of me, I screamed out her name but hushed myself up with my palm. Her fingers were moving with a rentless pace inside of me, her mouth was still sucking my clit like it was her last meal.

“Fuck you taste so good, love” She hummed into my pussy, I couldn't even process what she said my mind was too lost in pleasure to even care.

“Fuck, yes, keep going, baby !” I moaned out, she went harder, so much harder the bed started to move with me. I was getting close, my back arched off the matress of the bed, my walls squeezed her fingers thighly, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, my body started to shake but she pulled out before I could cum. Leaving me confused and frustered.

“What the fuck, Y/n ?” I asked, clearly annoyed. She didn't answer the way I expected her too, she just passoniatly kissed me. I obvsiouly kissed her back until I felt something streching me out deliciously. That definitly wasn't her fingers. She swallowed my moans before disconnecting our lips, “Satisfied now ?” She asked breathing as heavily as me. “Yeah, ve- very.” I whined as she went faster not really letting me give her a proper answer.

She buried her face in my neck, and she grunt next to my ear, which turned me on more if that's even possible. Her groans turned into moans when my walls wrapped her length tightly. My nails digged into her shoulders, her cock twitched as she whined quietly. She held herself up with her hands on my hips, the new angle gave her a chance to go harder and she didn't miss that chance. I wanted to hold into something as I started to sob soflty. I tired to keep my arms on her shoulders but her thrust were too powerfull for me to keep my arms there, so instead I held her hands the best I could.

“Oh god, Tara, you feel so good, love.” I heard her groan out. My only answer was a moan, but that was apparently enough for her because she went faster, causing me to moan louder, which I guess woke up the neighbourhoods. None of us give a fuck though.

“Fuck ! Yes, keep going, baby.” I was getting close, I know she was too. I could feel her dick throbbing inside of me, her thrust became irregular, but deeper.

“Tar, I'm close.” Her right hand moved next to my head. Her other hand was holding the back of my thigh because my legs were slowly giving up the hold they had around her waist.

“Me too, babe, 'm gonna cum.” And with that we came together, moaning if not screaming each other's name. Her thrust slowed down, she softly kissed me to distract me from pulling out of me. I whined at the emptiness. “Wait here a sec.” She pecked my lips before getting up, I smiled to myself like an idiot looking at her.

She came back with a wet towel and glass of water, and she gently cleaned me up, kissing my thigh as she did it. I patted her hair, smiling down at her. She smiled back at me, coming up to me kissing me with pure tenderness. She pulled back to hand me the glass of water, then looked at me like a lost baby.

I laughed at her face and cupped her cheek. “In the first drawer, baby.” She opened the drawer I was mentioning and took my birth control pills, I hummed a small 'thank you' as I swallowed the pill.

She helped me get under our blanket, and she pulled me closed to her to kiss my nose. I giggled at her action before doing the same to her. “I love you.” I mumbled, “I love you too. Good night, sweatheart.” She whispred.

I closed my eyes, satisfied that I got what I wanted. I quickly fell asleep with a content smile on my face.

I'll wake her up in the middle of the night more often.

I think that's the first time I've written a g!p!reader. What are we thinking gays ?

Have a good day/night. Love ya <33

#jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega #oneshot #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jybyls' writing #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #Spotify #g!p!reader

[writing-rat]

Good Acting

Pairings: Jenna x Reader

Content: 18+ Content, Smut, G!P Jenna, Fingering, Dry Humping, Sex

Summary: You and Jenna have to film a sex scene. You both forget the extra padding but you don't realise so you think she's a good actor...

WC: 956

It was a normal day on set but it was also a nerve-wracking day. Jenna was in another romance film, and there was a sex scene in it this time too. Jenna was calm but you? You were panicking inside. You were also in a rush to get ready so you had forgotten your protection this one time. You just hoped that Jenna had put hers on so you wouldn’t have to worry. 

Since she had admitted she had a dick after the filming began, the show had to go on. You were flustered just at the sight of it admittedly when you both decided to spend the night at the apartment and try and not get too flustered at each other's bodies. Safe to say… it didn’t work. You were soon on the set, the cameraman being a woman this time just for ease of comfort. There also was the director who was female too luckily. 

You stripped off your top after going under the covers and then took off your sweatpants and underwear. Soon Jenna was walking out, her shirt already off and a pair of sweatpants. “Hey,” she spoke to you once she got in the bed. “Nervous?” she teased. You nodded, unable to lie to her. “Well, here’s a trick I learnt in X. Imagine it’s your crush, and be in the moment,” she spoke. You nodded.

“Thanks,” you thanked her and nodded at the director to say you were ready. 

“And action,” were the final words you heard before you got into character. Jenna also did before she was leaning in closer, and kissed you gently. You proceeded to kiss back, holding her hips as she was grinding her hips against you. You couldn’t help but moan in the kiss due to no protection on your end. Jenna smirked as she was soon groping at your tits, the covers going down and revealing them. The camerawomen were getting multiple different shots as you kept going, her grinding even harder. 

Soon the covers were fully off, the cameras now seeing everything from your body to Jenna’s dick. “So fucking hot,” she commented before she was humping faster, getting close. “I’m getting close baby,” she moaned out, kissing your neck and grasping at your ass with one hand, the other gripping your chest. Soon enough, she ‘came’. It looked realistic. You meanwhile moaned, feeling how her dick was hitting your clit. You also ‘came’ just as the other actor came in. 

“Beve- what the fuck? Get some clothes on!” the actor said.

 

“And cut!” the director spoke and smiled. “You can both get decent now and go home soon enough,” she spoke. You were glad it was both your final shots of that day. You quickly put the clothes on and went over to the changing room, Jenna following you. 

“You’re a really good actor,” you said, smiling at her. 

“I forgot the protection. I’m honestly glad no one picked up on it but I came. Sorry,” Jenna laughed and then admitted. You were nodding. 

“Same here!” you chuckled and looked at her.

“Who did you imagine?” she asked curiously with a smirk. 

“Wednesday,” you decided to say. Technically it wasn’t a lie.

“Wait. Me?” she asked, wanting to make sure. You nodded, embarrassed, naked again. Jenna smirked before she grabbed your wrist and started to pin you against the wall. “Good. I imagined one of your characters too. Want to… practise some acting?” she asked.

“Yes please,” you practically whined out.

 

She couldn’t help but lick her lips before she kissed you deeply. You kissed back, holding her sides as she was soon stripped fully down too. “God, you’re so beautiful,” she hummed out, kissing your neck and shoulders before you opened your legs. 

“You too baby, please, use me how you see fit,” you begged out. She nodded, looking at you gently before she was trailing a hand down, rubbing your clit and entering a finger inside of you. She just smirked, feeling how loose you are. 

“I might just be able to enter you already,” she teased you, causing you to whine and moan. 

“Please, I need you now. Don’t wanna get caught,” you moaned quietly, Jenna nodding before she entered you slowly and steadily. 

“Good girl,” she praised as she was hearing how quiet you were. You moaned quieter in response before she was soon inside you. “There we go baby girl, nod when I can move, ok?” she asked. You bit her shoulder in confirmation that you understood.

After a minute, you nodded. “Good girl,” she hummed out before she was thrusting into you slowly and gently. You moaned into her shoulder and she was loving it. She kept thrusting as she was slowly becoming quicker.

“Please. Rougher,” you moaned out a bit louder. Jenna smirked, moaning herself as she was becoming rougher and was soon bringing you over to the makeup table and bending you over it. This way she could go deeper inside and please you more. You gasped, biting into your wrist then as she was being rough and fast. She was hitting your G-spot eventually, causing you to get a bit louder but you were still able to keep it as quiet as possible. 

Unable to help it, you moaned, “Can I please cum?”. She smirked at that. 

“You may baby girl, you’ve been good,” she moaned out. At the permission, you came. After you had, you whined when she pulled out, at least until she came on your back. You panted smiling. “Want to go to mine and cuddle?” Jenna asked sweetly. You smiled, nodding. 

“Yes please,” you panted out, tired but wanting another round. Hopefully, you would get it at Jenna’s too…

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x reader smut #ratboy writing #ratboy writes

[tardxsblues]

I like adventures as much as the next man -- if the next man is a man who likes adventures -- even so, don't-don't go native. What do you mean? I'm not. Look, there's a whole dimension in here, but there's only room for one me. Wait-wait a second, you just raved about ghosts like a kid who had too much sherbert.

#i cannot with the way she looks at him here #i just cannot #and the foreshadowing #please #i could write paragraphs about this scene #doctor who #dwedit #dwgifs #dw comapnions #timelordgifs #moffatedit #twelve #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #twelveclara #whouffaldi #dws9 #episode: under the lake #peter capaldi #jenna coleman #tvedit #gif warning #long post

[vadacore]

little star

cairo sweet x reader oneshot // miller's girl // word count: 1281

a/n: just really miss cairo

Cairo hadn’t been herself lately. You two had talked for hours for the past couple of weeks. You had grown closer and more intimate with each other. Then, all of the sudden, everything changed.

Cairo wasn’t around anymore. She never called or wrote. It was ever since she turned in her midterm assignment for Mr. Miller that ties had been cut. Due to her tight deadlines, you two had agreed not to see each other until after she had finished the midterm, but it had been 3 days since the due date… She had been a ghost.

You called Winnie that morning—the dawn of the 4th day after. She explained the discord that had accumulated and how Cairo had taken the beating to heart. But she was the strongest person you had ever met. She couldn’t be broken.

Could she?

Winnie had said a lot of things. 

Cairo was emotional. Cairo was resentful. Cairo was heartbroken. Cairo was alive, at least.

No more alive than the works she’d create from a blinking cursor, the lead of a pencil, or the ink of a pen, though. She’d masterminded such beauty that reflected nothing but the world around her. Though when she had unlatched the door to let the monsters in, the rain poured and the lightning struck. 

You weren’t as talented a writer as she was, but who could be? Between those paragraphs of literacy and media was blood. It was a rich kind of blood that lured you to Cairo Sweet in the first place. It was reckless and mysterious, but you’d never felt more grounded before you laid eyes on her. Heard her speak… Learned her heart… And you missed that more than everything.

Was there Sweet to her name anymore? Or was there just Cairo? 

Winnie said Cairo had been alone. She said she had wanted to be alone.

But alone meant misery and displacement. Defeat and loneliness. Longing and torture. And Cairo didn’t deserve that. You didn’t care what she’d done or what she didn’t do. She was your north star. She shone brighter than anything you’d ever known, and therefore, nothing could ever change that.

So, you showed up to her house after that 6 AM phone call with Winnie Black. You needed to see her. Not just because you missed her more than anything, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of her discouraging her potential and honesty. Not in her wondrous existence.

Cairo didn’t fear anything, you’d learned, so you let yourself in and found her sitting in the darkness of her room, three cigarette butts on the floor and her journal open on the bed. Through the shadows, you found the top of her head over the other side of the bed. “Cairo?”

She didn’t move a muscle, but she did answer. “If you’ve come to talk, don’t bother. I’ve heard enough, and the sincerity I’ve expressed has been more than society is willing to tolerate. Honesty is feared by many. It’s tragic and hateful, yet it’s a quality that etiquette claims to be most valuable.” Then, she managed a wry scoff. “Hypocrites.” 

“Cairo, I don’t care what happened,” you replied. “I haven’t heard from you in days. I just missed you, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She actually gave a laugh this time. “Aren’t I?”

As convincing as she may seem to other people, you had learned her better than most, because you had to figure her out the hard way, through phone calls and communication of words, not expressions. You didn’t have to see her face to determine how she truly felt. You could hear it. Dare you say, you could feel it. 

There was a tear in her voice as she spoke. And it led you rounding the bed to find her knees up, while she stared at the wall ahead. Those beautiful eyes were slow, like shards of obsidian as they raised to meet yours without a blink.

“Y/N…”

You dropped to your knees and pulled her into a hug. She didn’t reciprocate, but you held her for everything you were worth. You rested your cheek against her head, your fingers gently pulling the small tangles from her hair and your other hand corralling her back, clutching her shirt like she was going to disappear into the darkness. “Cairo, listen to me…” you whispered. Her warm breath filtered through your shirt. “I don’t care what anyone says. About you… About me… About anything… You are the greatest soul anyone could ever dream of having in their school, in their class, in their life, in anything.”

A warm, damp feeling found its way to your collarbone, and you knew it was tears. And all of the sudden, her weight was recognizable against your embrace. She felt so small in your arms that didn’t even hold all of her. It was the first time you realized just how petite she was for an 18 year-old girl with an extraordinary personality. “You know, to me… you’re above everything in this world. I’ve only seen people wander the earth, dreaming of what it’d be like to fly, but you… you fly, Cairo. You’re that star in the sky everyone dreams of being.” Your chest ached from how serious those words coming from your heart were. You then lifted your head to place a loving kiss to hers, because just holding her wasn’t enough anymore. 

Cairo sniffled, but didn’t say anything. However, she had managed to unbend her legs to hold you against her. And when you gently pulled away to have her look up at you and you, down at her, the wet streaks against her cheeks shimmered in the halflight.

You wiped them away and gave her a small smile. “Beautiful…” You kissed her forehead. “Magical…” You kissed her cheek. “Wonderful, you are.” The next place you were dying to heal with your lips caught your eyes, though it was merely small motions of your irises. Instead, you brushed her hair aside and pressed your foreheads together. Her eyes shut and for a moment, she looked peaceful as you finished with, “Yes, you are…”

She opened her eyes, now only tainted with a thin gloss. But then she managed the smallest, sweetest smile you’d ever seen. Her Cairo Sweet smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice only a little above a whisper, mostly steady but with the slightest crack.

“It’s true,” you whispered back. Seeing her small smile was enough for you to give her your own, though yours was out of admiration, pride, and love. She truly was a star. 

She was your little star.

Then, her smile faded and she glanced away. It was almost shy, which surprised you. “Y/N?” Her voice grew a little stronger.

“Mm-hmm?” Whatever she wanted was hers.

“Kiss me.”

There was no hesitation as you granted her wish. Little did she know though, it was your wish too. You had wished upon a star, because that was the old saying. Wishing on a star was a chance that didn’t come often, especially when that one star was a shooting star. Yet, it hadn’t passed you up, and there was no way in hell you were going to pass it up.

Cairo’s lips were soft, but you could tell there were stories imprinted on them. They weren’t ex-stories, per se, but they were mysteries that you wondered how hard they would be to solve. How many pages would you have to read to uncover them? How much would she have to write to reveal them?

Only time would tell. But every journey starts somewhere.

And the best had a star to guide them.

#miller’s girl #cairo sweet #cairo sweet x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #twinkle twinkle little star #oneshot #x reader #my writing #fanfiction #vadacore

[breadqueen95]

Reflections - Chapter 7: Soft Metal

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

10.9k (wut)

Chapter Summary: How can you possibly say goodbye?

Content warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic, general trauma, physical pain

a/n: here's some food for ya sorry i can't make a commitment to a schedule. also i will not lie this is not proofread sorry

Chapter 6

***

The rest of the night passed in a blur.

Despite having thought you’d need every single nighttime hour to make a decision, one conversation with Natasha Romanoff had you agreeing to their proposal before 11pm. Definitely not something you’d expected.

Even now, as the anxious roiling of your stomach begs you to back out and stay right where you are, you can’t say that you think you made the wrong choice. You won’t know that for sure until you get there, and even then, you already decided to give this a try.

Besides…Hydra would come for you no matter what. Natasha said as much. It’s far safer to buy yourself time by being around other people, especially people who were actually capable of keeping you safe.  

…Even still, it’s hard to turn off the sheer heartbreak you feel.

Admirably, Wanda came out of your bathroom after showering and didn’t even flinch at all of the new developments. She simply nodded, smiled at you kindly, and asked if you wanted to start packing.

So that led you to where you are now. Staring at the small stack of books in your trembling hands, you try in vain to get your mind to just focus. You’ve been compartmentalizing for years now. All you need to do is flip that switch, right?

A voice says your name softly nearby, but it only registers as white noise in your brain. You just keep staring down at your books, but you don’t really see them. All you see are the white walls. The white lab coats. The—

Then there’s your name again, more insistently than the first time. It drags you out of your head, causing you to look up.

There’s Wanda, dark red tresses still a little damp from her shower. She’s looking at you with a frustrating mix of kindness and pity. For as much as her expression makes you unreasonably mad, it also gives you a weird sense of comfort.

You’re not sure what to do with that.

“Natasha stepped outside to call Tony,” she explains. She looks down to your shaking hands holding your books, which you’d grabbed while Natasha quickly updated Wanda on what she’d missed. You’d thought you should get started on gathering your meager belongings, only to end up frozen.

“I should, um…” you start, only to have your voice fade away as you struggle to find the words. Your mouth remains slightly ajar as you try to wrestle yourself into the efficient survival mode you’d perfected over these years.

But you can’t. That mode, that prey animal’s instinct, it doesn’t fit anymore. Not like it used to.

The shaking gets more pronounced. Harder to control.

“Are these the books you’d like to bring?”

Wanda’s soothing lilt yanks you back from the precipice again. Looking up, you find that same kind patience.

“Y-yes,” you choke out, “they’re the only ones here that are m-mine—”

“Okay, so they’re coming,” Wanda interrupts you kindly but forcefully. She reaches out to take the stack from you, but without thinking, you only hold them tighter and jerk them closer to you.

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch or take offense. She just says your name again, lightly, nothing but understanding in her tone.

“Would you like to set them on the table over here? Or maybe tell me where your bag is so we can pack them?”

The words bounce around in your head like an echo chamber. You’re not used to this, this collaborative thing that’s been added to your process.

Usually, when you leave, you throw your shit in a bag and go. You never give yourself time to think about the particulars of what you’re doing or why. Never really perceived yourself having a choice in leaving – it was always the only choice.

Everything about this time was deliberate. Thought through. Emotional.

How the fuck are you supposed to navigate that?

“I don’t know how to do this,” you whisper, unaware you’ve spoken the words aloud until you hear them in your own ears.

A beat of silence passes. You’re scared Wanda has finally lost her patience with you, done with this bullshit of a day and done with you.

But she hasn’t. And she isn’t.

“You don’t have to know. None of us do. But we’ll help you, I promise.”

Looking at her, you see that she is holding her hands out, palms up. There’s no expectation there, just an offer.

Slowly, deliberately, you place your books in her hands. Your heart stutters as you let go of their worn and well-loved pages, but even still, you release them. Wanda’s elegant fingers close around them, holding them as reverently as you had.

“I’ll grab my duffle,” you mutter, finally able to turn and purposefully walk to your bedroom. Grabbing the canvas bag from your closet, you march right back out to where Wanda is waiting and set the duffle on the floor.

“You know,” Wanda says as she sets your books down on the table, “we have a lot of books at the compound.”

You don’t say anything, just sort of look at her, so she continues.

“You could read some of them. If you wanted.”

Blinking, you try to think about how many books could be available at the fucking Avengers Compound. With such limited resources and almost zero access to a good library, it’s hard for you to picture.

“Any of them?”

“Any of them,” she grins.

You watch her as she glides over to where you keep your shoes by the door. She bends and picks up your old pair of hiking boots that double as snow boots in the winter, bringing them over and carefully arranging them at the bottom of your bag. You notice she’s left your beat up pair of sneakers by the door, somehow knowing you’ll want to wear them tomorrow.

“I could put a list of recommendations together if you’re interested,” she offers, “the choices can be overwhelming, and I’ve read through a lot of them.”

It’s then, for the first time in the hour since you’ve decided to leave, you feel an emotion other than devastation.

“Sure,” you reply, “I would like that.”

***

It’s that very same night that Tony Stark decides he hates moths. Despises them. Loathes them.

Okay, so he knows they’re important. Pollinators and all that. But the violence in which these massive mountain motherfuckers are going after the dim light on his phone really isn’t all that groovy of them.

A little while after they’d arrived back at the jet, after he’d given Bruce the lowdown and conferred with Hill and Fury about next steps, Nat’s name had lit up his phone screen with an incoming call.

He just didn’t think he needed a shield to step outside and answer a call.

Normally, Tony would answer inside with the others. Put the damn thing on speaker and play Candy Crush or some shit during the conversation. But with the way Rogers was seething in the corner like a little broccoli floret, he didn’t really wanna invite his opinion on whatever was happening right away.

“Hello hello, my lovely little bowl of borscht,” Tony greets as he answers the call, “what’s new?”

“Fucking hell, Stark,” Natasha barks, “you know I hate the food thing. Especially since I hate borscht.”

“So sorry, what would you prefer sweet blini of mine?”

He knows this is important. Tony feels the weight of it, and had felt it since Nat and Steve approached him about Firebug the very first time. But goddamn it, he hates this feeling. He hates that everyone, including the new pal they were trying to recruit, felt it.

Hence…the nicknames. It’s like a compulsion. He has to.

“I don’t know, maybe my name?”

“Don’t you wanna spice up your life?”

“Ugh, fine,” she relents, talking in this quick way that says she’s beyond ready to move on from this, “at least ditch the borscht.”

“Sounds swell you delightful handle of vodka,” he quips back without missing a beat, “now stop wasting time and give me that update I know you called with.”

“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Clock’s a tickin’.”

“Fine,” she huffs, “anyways, she agreed. She’s coming back with us.”

Tony’s taken aback. He quickly checks his watch, seeing 11pm illuminated on the screen before having to swat away another dusty abomination.

“Damn, you guys work fast. I was convinced I wasn’t gonna hear anything until tomorrow morning. What did you say to her?”

“I can explain more when we get back,” she sighs, “let’s just say it was an emotional decision. She’s not gonna be okay for a long time, and this adjustment will be hard. Everyone’s gotta find some patience.”

“We’ll take care of her. Make sure you tell her that.”

“I will,” Natasha responds, voice far softer than it had been mere seconds ago, “Wanda’s in there with her now, I think she’s helping her pack.”

“Perfect. We can get outta here first thing in the morning.”

“Did Fury plant the false info for Hydra?”

“He’s getting it started,” Tony explains, “when I asked him for more details he told me to fuck off.”

“That tracks.”

“We’ll be fine,” Tony reassures her, “we’ll get her outta here and get her to safety, no problem.”

“Sure thing,” Nat sighs, then adds, “keep an eye on Rogers, would you?”

“Already ahead of you, I’ll make sure he keeps his shit together. At least until we get her back to the Compound.”

A lull in their conversation begins. Tony usually doesn’t pay attention to these sorts of things; he’s usually thinking too fast to notice anything beyond his own thoughts. Even so, he can feel the tension from the other side of the phone.

Natasha is worried. And more shocking than that, she’s letting it show.

“He’ll come around,” Tony says in what he hopes is a soothing, casual tone.

“What if he doesn’t?” She whispers back hoarsely.

“He’ll have to. Until she gives us a good reason to mistrust her or her intentions, we gotta lead with a little faith here.”

She huffs a laugh on the other line, retorting, “Thought you didn’t go by things like faith.”

“Yeah, well…”

It’s him who pauses this time, mind distracted by that poor girl’s terrified face. Distracted by all the awful things that were done to her. What could still be done to her if they didn’t get her to trust them.

But to get her to trust them, they needed to show that they trust her.

“Not always.”

***

It hadn’t taken long for you to pack up your meager belongings. Even less time than you thought once Natasha had come back inside and began helping. You told both of them they didn’t have to, but they insisted.

Nice of them. Still kind of wish they hadn’t so you could waste more time, but whatever. Win some, lose some.

By the time your books were settled on top of the last of your clothes, it was nearing 12am. You’d dragged your feet a little, but everything still hadn’t taken more than an hour. While you still felt wired, you could tell that Natasha and Wanda were exhausted. They tried to explain away their sleepy faces and yawns, but eventually you convinced them to try and get some sleep. They only listened if you promised you’d do the same.

As if that would happen.

You’re a chronic insomniac on your best nights. It didn’t take a genius to figure that tonight wouldn’t even come close to even being considered restful.

So you didn’t even try. You just curled up on top of the bed and stared at the wall, begging time to go by just a little faster.

And you’re still there. You check the clock on the bedside table, convinced it would be at least 3am or something, only to find—

12:30am.

Well fuck.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you roll onto your back to change views. Maybe staring at the dark ceiling would be more entertaining.

…definitely not the case. Not in the slightest. Because the more you stare, the more hyperaware you become of the fact that you might never see this ceiling again. Or these walls. Or this room. Or this house.

Before you know it, you’re sitting upright at the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the comforter as you try to ground yourself.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Who’s to say you’re making the right choice?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Who’s to say Hydra would even find you way out here? Maybe they wouldn’t.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Even worse, what if they find you no matter where you run?

Breathe—

You go to take a deep breath, but your lungs constrict. They stutter. Your airway closes in on itself. No matter how hard you work, you can’t get that breath. The very nature of your respiratory system failing you feels symbolic, representative of the pitiful state of your life falling around you.

Suddenly, those walls flash white in your mind, erasing the darkness with the threat of a memory far worse.

Then you’re on your feet.

As quietly and quickly as you can, you flit to the door and slowly twist it open. Hoping beyond hope that your guests don’t hear you, you leave it cracked behind you and make your way to the backdoor and slip outside. You usually wouldn’t risk closing yourself off from safety by closing the door completely, but tonight you do.

It’s not lost on you that the presence of the Avengers makes you feel a little safer than usual.

Just like every other night before, the first inhale of fresh air helps your lungs expand. You feel clean again. You feel alive.

Taking your seat on the steps of the back porch, you lean back until your back rests against the worn wood.

Nothing in front of you but open sky. Millions of stars. The moon an old friend in the distance, providing the faintest light through the darkness.

Then you’re crying. You don’t even remember starting.

But the tears stream endlessly down your cheeks. Sobs rip themselves from your chest. You press both hands over your mouth to try and keep yourself from making any noise, knowing there’s actually people who could hear you this time.

It’s kind of like your reaction with the books earlier tonight. This forceful acknowledgement of the thing you’re giving up; this illusion of safety and home you’ve crafted for yourself.

For the first time since before you can really remember, you’re being allowed time to mourn something you’ve lost.

You don’t like it. You don’t want it.

You can’t take it.

This emptiness, this heaviness weighing down every part of you…it’s torment. It’s anguish.

Just from understanding what this feeling was, this grief, it’s cracked open the door you closed to everything else you’d lost. The endless list of things you can’t let yourself remember.

But if you open that door wider, if you actually let yourself remember…

You think you’d actually shatter.

So you focus on the stars, knowing tonight is your last night with this particular stretch of sky.

***

Bucky can feel his heart break as he watches her from the tree line. He sees the way her body crumples in on itself, her small hands trying in vain to keep her pain quiet.

It was his turn for patrol. Stark had assigned them all shifts after talking to Natasha, and this happened to be his hour.

There wasn’t much for him to do, not with all the other steps Stark, Fury, and the others had taken to keep Hydra at bay. Just walk around in the dark and try to keep from tripping. He was way too used to sidewalks now.

City boy. Old habits die hard.

Of course he wasn’t going to sleep anyway. He’s way too amped up and distracted, and that was before knowing she had decided to come back with them tomorrow. Now he can’t quite seem to settle that fluttering feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks about it, which was…every second.

He’d been hanging around the area by the cabin when she came outside, trying to listen for anyone else hanging around who shouldn’t be. She’d actually given him quite a scare when that back door opened.

Bucky actually thought about going over to talk to her when she first sat down. Get to know her more, whatever. It’s kind of pathetic, this weird pull he feels toward her.

But the second he heard the first sob, he knew he couldn’t. Not now. Not tonight.

He understands that she’s trying to fall apart quietly because of the people in her home.

It’s easy for him to understand that this, all of it, is pain beyond pain for her.

That she maybe doesn’t even know how to understand it herself just yet.

He remembers vividly those first few weeks away from Hydra. First in Romania, then in Wakanda, then finally at the Compound. Bouts of extreme emotion like this was all too common. He still has them, even now, though they’re far less frequent.

But because of that intimate experience he has with this brand of breakdown, he leaves her be, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

So Bucky retreats further into the trees, taking extra care as not to alert her to someone witnessing this.

His heart breaks more with every step he takes away from her, as though he’s fighting instinct itself.

***

Wanda hadn’t slept well.

This isn’t anything new for her; she’s used to running on very little sleep. It had been that way ever since that bomb fell on her home in Romania. Ever since her parents died. Ever since Pietro.

Instead of sleeping through the approaching dawn, she found herself sitting up on the soft leather couch where she’d settled in for the night. Angling her eyes just so, she watched the sky gradually lighten in the morning hours.

It’s easy to see what Firebug saw in this place – why she’s so deeply attached to it. There’s a certain magic in every soft breeze, the quietness that coexists with the racket from nature itself. It reminds Wanda of early mornings in her village as a child. Those early hours where she listened to people rising early to begin their days, the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking.

It pulls at her heart. She knows it must pull at Firebug’s.

No…that isn’t her real name. Wanda silently but firmly reminds herself of it in her head.

This girl might like the nickname Stark had so easily assigned to her. Might even find a certain comfort in the affectionate way in which they all seemed to say it now. But she doesn’t know, not for certain anyway.

And besides, there’s a certain humanity that comes with using someone’s real name. She’s gone so, so long without hearing hers. Maybe she doesn’t want to, but until she says otherwise, Wanda wants her to know that it’s okay to step back into herself. If she wants to.

Late last night, she’d heard the quick stumbling of someone rushing to get outside. Having felt that sort of claustrophobic panic before herself, Wanda left her alone. The familiar sights and sounds around her would comfort the young woman better than she could.

Sighing deeply, the redhead peeks over Natasha, curled tightly in on herself on the laid back recliner. It seems as though she’s sleeping, at least a little. Her friend is way too good at pretending, so she hopes that’s not the case. Nat sleeps even less than she does.

Checking the time on her phone, Wanda sees that it’s nearly 5:30am. Stark and the others would want to get moving soon.

It would be better for everyone, especially her. The longer they linger, the worse it’ll be.

So she picks herself up from the sofa, stretching languidly in the weak morning light. She opens the curtains a little more, allowing the rising sun to rest on Natasha. She stirs a little, and Wanda continues over to the small kitchenette. She makes the decision to start a pot of coffee, hoping it doesn’t irritate their host. Wanda’s honestly just hoping that if she and Nat can keep things purposeful and efficient, it’ll make things easier for everyone.

As soon as the coffee maker starts groaning (how is that thing still functioning?) she pads over to Natasha to start waking her up.

Taking extra care not to touch her or get too close, Wanda murmurs her name to rouse her. Everyone on the team knew better than to try and wake each other up with loud noises or unexpected physical contact. There’s nothing worse than having slept badly then jumping awake because your trauma is telling you than someone’s trying to kill you.

It only takes two more verbal pokes for Nat to start stirring. She grumpily cracks open one eye to glare at her, but she doesn’t scare Wanda. This is the only time she can say that the ex-assassin is all bark and no bite.

“Coffee’s starting,” she smirks, knowing that’ll help speed up the process.

And it does. Natasha begrudgingly opens both eyes and starts to sit up, the old chair creaking at the movement.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles.

As soon as Wanda’s convinced Nat is up for good, she heads back over to the kitchen and looks around for some mugs. After opening a few cabinets, she locates a few. She pulls out two for herself and Natasha, and then grabs the clean mug she saw sitting by the sink for the third member of their temporary trio. It’s probably the one she likes using most.

As Natasha gets up to start her morning stretches, she looks around before looking back at where Wanda leans against the counter.

“Where is she?” She asks.

“Back porch,” Wanda offers, glancing in that direction, “I heard her slip outside a few hours ago.”

Natasha nods and returns to her stretching, completely unbothered. And despite not having seen her for hours now, Wanda is fairly certain that when she walks outside in a few minutes, she’ll find her exactly where she expects she’ll be. The patrols would’ve seen if she’d tried to run, but more than that…Wanda just thinks she’s tired of running.

A glance at the clock reminds her of the time, and Wanda sighs.

Efficiency will make this easier she reminds herself again as she pushes off from the counter. As she walks down the hallway to get to the back, Wanda purposefully makes a little noise instead of her usual silent steps, not wanting to sneak up on her. Scaring her wouldn’t exactly be a great start to the day.

Wanda makes an entire process out of grabbing loudly (but not too aggressively she hopes) at the door handle and creaking it open. Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but with these sorts of things, it’s so hard to know what the right thing is.

…and if she’s being honest, she wants this girl to like her. Be her friend.

Wanda loves the team; they’re the family she’s needed every since losing Pietro. Nat is like an older sister, and every single one of the guys act like her big brother. And she appreciates that. Loves it, even. But what she really wants is a friendship with someone that doesn’t feel like she’s being taken care of all the time. Something more equal.

Peeking her head out into the crisp morning air, Wanda sees her sitting on the porch steps. She’s sitting up, but her body seems to droop in on itself. Like every single limb is weighed down.

It’s impossible not to ache for her. She’s far too young to have been through as much as she has.

With a wry, humorless smile to herself, Wanda reminds herself that she’s cut from that exact same cloth.

“Good morning,” she murmurs.

To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch. But now that Wanda thinks about it, all of the noise she made probably helped. She makes a note to high five herself later.

Peter had explained about self-high fives to her. Said they were good for morale and self-confidence, which she has to agree with.

“Hello,” she whispers back hoarsely.

“Is it alright if I sit?”

A single nod. Wanda walks over to the steps and takes a seat next to Firebug.

No. Y/n.

After settling in, she takes a deep breath and looks around at the view. That magic she felt from inside? It’s even more potent out here. It’s not muted or dampened by walls or ceilings – nothing between her and the sky.

A sense of bittersweet euphoria rushes over her. She remembers the walls during her time as a Hydra experiment. She remembers how addictive the open sky became to her after getting out of there. It’s hard not to think of Pietro in times like this, and how much he would’ve loved this place.

It’s then, with the image of her brother fresh in her mind, that Wanda turns to look at her.

Her breath catches at how truly haggard she looks. Did she sleep at all?

It’s not even the physical things that worry Wanda the most. It’s the desperate, broken look so apparent in her eyes. She looks out at the grass and trees with a hunger that only comes hand in hand with grief; knowing that something or someone is here for the last time.

“I can feel you staring,” she bites out quietly, a hard glint a new addition to her expression.

Wanda fights the urge to look away and apologize. She knows that would be the polite, even kind, thing to do, but that doesn’t feel right.

“Not many people wear their expressions so openly.”

She’s not sure what made her say it, or even that she should’ve. But she does.

“Not many people get stared at on their back porch before 6am, yet here you are.”

Instead of being offended, all Wanda can do is chuckle to herself. She looks back out toward the mountainside. Neither of them speak for another minute or two, just breathing together.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n finally whispers, “I don’t…I’m not—”

“It’s okay,” Wanda reassures, “you don’t need to apologize for anything.”

More quiet. More thinking. Wanda feels pulled toward more peaceful emotions, but the torment and anguish from the young woman beside her is palpable. It’s hard to ignore, and despite what she might want, Wanda doesn’t want to pretend like her hurt isn’t happening.

She takes a breath before turning back to her, then says, “You could come back someday.”

Because she could. It might take some time, but it’s obvious to anyone how much she loves it here. How happy she would be if she could stay.

Wanda thought that might bring her some measure of comfort.

Instead, she shakes her head, pressing her mouth into a hard line. There’s something painfully hopeless about it.

“No,” she finally whispers, “I can’t put the people here at risk like that.”

“Maybe not while Hydra is still a threat, but they might not always be. Once they’re gone, then—”

Her words die in her throat as Y/n meets her eyes for the first time this morning. There’s nothing but despondency in her expression. She lifts one corner of her mouth in a humorless half smile.

“Not gonna bank on the impossible.”

Wanda’s heart breaks. It’s obvious that she believes that the threat of Hydra will never go away, and even worse, that she’ll never be safe on her own.

“You don’t know that,” she tries to say, even though she’s not sure she believes it herself.

Y/n scoffs. It’s a cold, sad sound, filled with an emotion that Wanda knows all too well. She looks away from her and back out to other mountains in the distance, the desperation reappearing on her exhausted features.

“It’s easier this way,” she mumbles, trying to shrug nonchalantly to hide the heaviness she feels, “it’s easier to forget.”

***

At this point, you’re shocked you haven’t burned a hole straight through your esophagus. It’s probably only due to your…abilities…that you hadn’t.

Because in trying (and failing) to ignore the churning of your stomach and all-consuming nervousness, you’re chugging your third hot cup of coffee. It gives you something to do with your hands, and the repetitive movements are kind of soothing.

But let’s be honest. It’s not working. For as high as your caffeine tolerance is, the jitteriness that comes with it for well adjusted people is starting to come on at full force.

…and you’re not exactly well adjusted.

You feel Wanda and Natasha’s eyes on you as your shaky hands lift the mug for another scalding sip, but you actively avoid acknowledging them. You’re not sure you can stand the expressions you might find there.

You’d finally made your way inside after those tension filled moments with Wanda outside. She was trying to help, you know that. And on some level you appreciate it. But after everything, especially after a sleepless night alone with your thoughts, every bit of it felt hollow.

Even your own optimism from yesterday feels naïve. It doesn’t make you change your mind about going with them; you’re not stupid, realistically it’s still the safest option.

At least that’s what you keep telling yourself as you washed your face, brushed your teeth, and went about getting ready to do something instinct was begging you not to.

As you were getting ready in your room, Wanda and Natasha got dressed in the living room and called Stark. When you came back out, they explained that he and the others wanted to wait for the all clear from someone named Fury (coolest name ever?). You asked why he thought you’d get jumped in an empty field, but they both just kind of looked at you like it was the stupidest thing you’d ever said.

Now that you think about it, that reaction is actually valid as fuck.

So you gulp your coffee and work on emptying your head of any and all conscious thought.

It’s not going well.

A sudden and shrill beeping sound breaks the silence. It startles you, and you only just manage not to pour the remains of your hot coffee all down your front. You look around in alarm, fully anticipating a bomb or some shit, but Natasha just pulls out her fancy looking smartphone.

In your defense, your flip phone has different sounds.

After reading the message on the screen, she looks up at you as she slides it back into her pocket.

“We’re clear. You ready?”

Your stomach falls out of your ass. You keep thinking this can’t feel more real than it’s already gotten, but here you are. You’re leaving.

With still trembling hands, you turn toward the sink and pour out the remainder of the coffee. It isn’t helping anyway. After washing out the mug, your favorite mug, you take care of the pot next. You’re thorough; every single thing in this cabin will be left immaculate.

The soft yet insistence utterance of your real name behind you can’t even pull you from this.

It comes again, pushier this time, followed by, “We can clean up if you—”

“I’ve got it.”

Your tone is clipped and final. Natasha and Wanda take the hint, and they hang back while you do these last few menial tasks.

Once the pot is back with the coffee maker, and the mug is lovingly set back in its place in the cabinet, you turn immediately and head to the couch. You’d already slipped on your shoes awhile ago. Now you focus every ounce of brain power into slipping your hands into the sleeves of your worn jacket, trying to ignore the warmth seeping into your bloodstream.

Now is not the fucking time.

As you sling your bag across your shoulder, you fight the urge to take one last look around the space.

This needs to feel casual.

Even though your heart is breaking.

“Did you want a minute?” Wanda asks kindly.

All you can do is shake your head fiercely, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself, as you make your way across the floor as quickly as you can. Before you know it, you’re pulling the door open and stepping into the brightness of the morning, leading the way outside.

Thank god the sight of their ship and all the Avengers in the field is as jarring as it is, or you would’ve had no choice but to look at the mountains.

Everyone turns as you clomp down the creaky stairs, the silent steps of the women behind you an embarrassing contrast. Though you feel the intensity from Captain Rodgers’ stare, you choose to not acknowledge it. Instead, you focus on a new figure you didn’t get the chance to meet last night.

Despite the particular abilities he had, Dr. Banner is very slight in person. He wrings his hands together in an all-too-familiar gesture as he glances around the area. The compulsive gesture seems to talk to the stabbing warmth under your skin. You try to ignore the urge to mirror his movements.  

You don’t bother him in his nervousness, you just step forward to meet Stark, the warmth in his lined face so different from the painful heat under your skin. Turning your wince into a rueful smile, you stop in front of him.

“Ready to go?”

You nod, very grateful that he’s chosen to get to the point quickly for what you imagine is the first time in his life.

“Sounds good.”

He looks around and sets his focus on Dr. Banner, who jumps a little at the attention. Somehow, though you can’t know for sure, he looks like he knew this was coming. And he hates it.

“Step right up, you supersized kale smoothie,” Stark quips as he beckons Banner forward.

You’ve seen footage of the Hulk. It’s one of the first things that come up when searching for information on the Avengers. The shuffled gait and hunched shoulders Banner adopts right now is so vastly different from his alternate persona, it’s a wonder they come from the same place.

“Kid, this is Dr. Bruce Banner,” Stark introduces as the slightly shorter man comes up to stand next to him. Then you’re introduced by your full name, something you’ve heard more in the last 24 hours than you had in a decade. You can’t help but flinch a little at the sound of it, but you’re hoping you mask it well enough.

“Nice to meet you,” you mumble politely, the rageful pinpricks rearing in terror at the syllables that make up your government name.

It really was nice to meet him. Based on his history (what you know of it anyway) and his mannerisms, he seems like someone who could understand. Maybe could even talk to eventually.

“Did you plan on using Dr. Banner’s abilities against me, Stark?” You ask your question in what you hope is a teasing manner. But you are honestly curious; how far were they willing to go?

Banner, who had looked like he was bracing for something, relaxes a little as he realizes you won’t use the name of his other persona. For as much as the world has come to accept him, it seems like he’d rather ignore it all together.

Truly a trauma twin. Besides Bucky, that is.

You chance a glance at the imposing figure standing off to the side, leather glinting in the sunlight. You feel your cheeks warm in a not unpleasant way when you find he’s already gazing at you. He lifts his mouth in a comforting smile, his eyes soft as he looks at you. The fire under your skin wanes a little, dwindling to a soft flicker that matches the heat on your cheeks.

You smile back, trying to match the softness he gives you so openly, when Stark begins talking again. The moment ends with his sharp and assertive tone, pulling your attention back to him without issue.

But you wish you could’ve stayed in that moment with Bucky.

“Nah, we never intended to unleash the Jolly Green Giant—”

“--please don’t call him that—”

“—on you. And yes Bruce I will call him that it’s my favorite nickname I’ve ever come up with.”

Stark, weirdly enough, stops speaking for a minute to take a breath. It honestly seems like he forgets to breathe sometimes, working overtime to get all his thoughts out.

“Banner here ended up coming because—”

Stark’s voice falls away, his brows furrowing as his hand goes to his earpiece. He presses it further into his ear, cocking his head as he listens.

“Vis, wanna repeat that?”

The heat becomes scalding as nervous brown eyes flit to meet yours. You clench your hands together, trying not to be reactionary, but it’s becoming harder with each millisecond.

The air around you shifts as everyone tenses for whatever threat Stark is being warned about. You find your head turning slightly to the left, finding blue eyes staring back at you. Bucky’s mouth is set in a hard line as he searches your face. You slightly toward him, feeling the need to be closer to his imposing figure, when Stark’s harsh and grating command somehow pulls your attention back.

“I don’t care that Hydra wouldn’t drive an old blue pickup, because they would if it meant they wouldn’t get caught. Engage the target or we’re fucked.”

Sheer panic fills your stomach and before you know it you’re waving to get his attention.

“Tell him to stop,” you exclaim, and he responds to the urgency in your voice.

Because maybe Hydra would drive that kind of car. But you know someone else who would too.

“I know who it is,” you explain in a rush, “they’re not Hydra.”

How could you forget? How could you not call her?

“You don’t know shit, kid—”

“It’s my boss and my landlord and she comes to get me for work every morning and I forgot.”

Stark raises his brows to the point you’re convinced they’ll disappear into his hairline. While you can still see the tension in his jaw, he also lets out a breath and allows his shoulders to fall a little. The familiar weight of guilt settles over your shoulders. Looking down at your worn shoes, you wish with your whole heart that you could fall right into the earth.

“Didn’t think we needed a warning for that?”

A cold, cutting voice slices straight through your wallowing. As much as you want to ignore him, you make yourself pick your head up and look over toward Captain Rodgers.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you genuinely mean it, “with everything going on—”

“Vision almost attacked this woman because we weren’t warned,” he continues, biting over your explanation with ferocity.

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You have no idea what to say to make this better, help him understand that your brain is just like this sometimes. Everyone has to have these moments, right?

But with the way his gaze cuts you down to size, you’re halfway convinced you’re the only person on the planet who’s ever forgotten something. You can’t help but shrink and look down again. Captain America is excellent at guilt tripping people.

“C’mon Steve, nothing happened,” a mellow voice you recognize as Sam Wilson’s cuts through the heavy silence.

Even with Sam’s calm reassurance, it’s like a trigger for Rogers to keep coming at you.

“Sure,” he scoffs coldly, “nothing happened this time.”

He fixes that ice cold gaze on you again, and despite the warm sun on your skin, you freeze under the weight of it. As much as you’d love to look anywhere else, you can’t. He stalks closer to you. His stance is that of a trained killer – the only thing keeping you from cowering away from him is what remains of your pride.

“If you’re coming with us,” he bites out, “you can’t be so narrow minded and selfish. You can’t just think of yourself anymore. Got that?”

Oh, this is unfair. He’s being so unfair.

You felt small before, guilt rising inside of you. Now you’re furious at Rogers’ reaction, feeling targeted and singled out.

What the fuck is his problem?

You allow your eyes to finally reflect the harsh frustration and anger you feel at him to show as you glare at him, mouth pressing into a hard line as your nostrils flair. Righteous heat prickles at your fingertips as the long buried need to fight back rears up

“How dare you,” you force out through gritted teeth, “you have no idea—”

Your aggression was all the reason that Rogers needed. He stalked up to you, standing mere inches from your face as he loomed over your shorter frame. You felt like you should be scared, but you weren’t.

You just burned.

“Really? I have ‘no idea’? You’re the one who seems in the dark here—”

Your humorless snort of laughter cuts him off, an incredulous look on his features.

“Jokes on you,” you sneer, “they never let me turn the lights off in that room. Didn’t see that in your reports?”

That finally silences him. The heaviness settles over your group again, the rumble of Debbie’s truck engine growing ever closer.

Palms white hot, you roll your shoulders back and look Captain America straight in the face, refusing the shrink under his anger. You’re proud of the glimmer of doubt that’s now appeared in that expression. The words that came from such a bad memory had the desired effect.

Hey, you hadn’t lied.

“You came to me. I might not understand how all of this works, that’s fine. Whatever. But I’ve been living second to second trying to stay hidden for years. So fuck right off with your self-righteous attitude. I stand by what I said; you have no fucking idea what it’s been like.”

As your words settle in, you fight to control the fire longing to sputter to life as it rages beneath your skin with your volatile emotions. You hate saying the truth aloud, the truth about your life from the past decade. You hate how it legitimizes it all.

But it’s the truth. For as much as Rogers’ has probably looked into your life, he hasn’t been through this. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have a fucking leg to stand on.

You won’t let him demean and judge you for what you’ve had to do to survive.

“Take a breather, Steve,” Natasha’s soothing voice cuts through the oppressive silence. It’s accompanied by the roar of the ancient engine of Debbie’s truck as it rounds the bend by the trees, finally coming into view. You turn your back to the imposing man behind you, trying to calm yourself so you can speak to your unexpected guest.

The group behind you retreats a little; you can hear them stepping away as you step forward. As you watch the truck, you see it stop for a second. You can’t help but grin a little to yourself as you imagine Debbie behind the wheel, absolutely shocked at what she’s seeing.

You’re pulled back into the confrontation behind you as the angry sound of Rogers’ muttering drifts over to you. Clenching your fists, you fight to ignore the prickling of heat stabbing into your nerve endings.

“Doin’ okay?”

A friendly voice asking a friendly question. The sound of it a soothing balm to your nerves, something you didn’t know you needed until you heard it.

Looking over to your right, you see Bucky standing next to you. He’s respecting your personal space, but he’s still close enough so that every single cell in your body is aware of it. His blue eyes, so different from Captain Rogers, look down at you. He brings his softness with him, so welcome after the confrontation you just had.

You consider his question. Are you okay? Like, actually okay?

“I don’t really know how to answer that,” you admit quietly, noticing Debbie’s truck finally moving forward again.

“Fair enough,” he admits, a wry grin pulling at his mouth as he looks away. You find yourself staring it the curl of it, fascinated in a way you can’t explain. As he turns back to you, you notice how the pain of fighting your power ebbs away.

He makes it better.

You acknowledge the realization in your head, not quite sure what to do with it. Why? Why is he so different from the others?

“How about this,” he says, “are you still functioning? Able to put one foot in front of the other?”

You tilt your head at him, considering the question. You love how he phrased it; it’s exactly what you’ve been doing for as long as you can remember.

“Yeah. Guess you could say that.”

Bucky nods, glancing away again. Even as he looks away, you notice how he shifts slightly closer to you. If he were anyone else, you’d feel threatened.

But…it’s him. You like him close.

“Listen, I’m—”

His words are cut off as you both notice the pale blue truck pulling to a stop in front of you. Debbie’s eyes are wide as saucers as she looks from you to the Bucky to the entire situation behind you. As she looks back at you, brows raised in apprehensive question, you nod to let her know it’s okay.

“I’ll give you some space,” Bucky mumbles as Debbie starts to step out of the truck, “I’ll be right back there, okay?”

Meeting his eyes once again, you give him a rare smile, hoping he can feel the gratitude there.

“Thank you.”

It’s simple, but he smiles back. As much as you’d like to stay in this moment with him, despite your confusion around him in general, you pull yourself back to the present. You turn forward and focus on Debbie, walking forward to meet her.

It’s hard, knowing you can’t be the person she knows. It’s even harder seeing the knowing look on her face as she looks at you, like she’s had a feeling about you this entire time that’s been proven correct.

“I’m guessin’ you’re not workin’ your shift this morning.”

You shake your head, smiling apologetically.

“And your name’s not really Allie?”

Damn. She doesn’t waste any time, does she.

Sighing, you take a moment before admitting, “No, it’s not.”

“Do I get to know what it really is?”

You frown, thinking about it for a minute. The frown continues to pull at your mouth as you realize the answer.

“No. Not right now, anyway. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”

Debbie comes closer to you, settling in next to you as she takes in the insanity of the scene behind you. The Avengers and their ship, just casually sitting in front of her father’s old cabin.

“Hope they’re not flattening the grass,” she mutters grumpily.

“I’ll get them moving in a minute, maybe Stark has some weird invention that can fix it,” you force a laugh.  

“I got just one question for you,” she mumbles, turning to pin you with her sharp eyes, “are you safe? Are they making you go?”

“I’m safer with them than I would be alone,” you answer honestly, “so I do need to go with them. But it’s my decision to make, so don’t worry about that.”

She makes a sound of acknowledgement, but then goes quiet again. You just keep looking at her, anxious about her reaction to everything. Debbie is protective to a fault; she’s the reason you were able to find a place here. She took you under her wing, gave you a chance to remember what home meant. You can tell that she wants to know more. She wants to understand who you are, what all this is.

It makes you sadder than you can explain, knowing you can’t tell her.

“I always wondered if you were runnin’ from something,” she mutters, “you never wanted to talk about it, but I suspected.”

“You were right on that one,” you admit, “right on quite a bit of it, I imagine.”

“Well, I’m guessin’ since Iron Man himself is here that somethin’ big is after you.”

“Debbie, I wish I could—”

“Now hold on,” she interrupts, not unkindly, and continues, “I know you can’t tell me. Makes sense. As much as I wish you could, I understand.”

It’s her trademark, simple kindness that makes your eyes prickle with tears again. You should’ve known she wouldn’t push. It’s just not who she is. Even now, after months of you living here and working for her, she’s never pushed you for more information than you’re willing to give.

She looks back at you, and noticing the tears gathering in your eyes, surprises you by reaching out and taking your hands.

You normally hate when people touch you, having not let anyone do so in years. But the motherly way in which Debbie holds your hands, so gentle and soft, it releases a torrent of emotion you didn’t know you still had.

You’re just thankful your skin isn’t heating up.

“C’mon now, don’t cry,” she says gruffly, her own emotion coming into it, “you’ll be okay, these guys will keep you safe.”

Your throat closes with the effort of keeping yourself from crying. Debbie has been the only consistent, kind presence in your life that you allow yourself to acknowledge.

You’re sure the Before has some people like that. But Debbie comes from the After, where the safe memories live.

“I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done,” you choke out, all the words you wish you could say getting lost before you could get them out.

But Debbie knows. She always knows.

She just pats your hands, and says, “Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

The fact that she asks, not an ounce of judgement on her lined face, makes you feel lighter than you have in a long time.

All you can do is nod, and then she’s pulling you in for the most comforting hug you can imagine. You briefly let yourself press your face into her shoulder, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and tobacco filling your nostrils.

She smells just like her dad. You wonder if she knows.

“You’re a good kid,” she murmurs, “you’re tough. You’ll be okay no matter what happens, you hear me?”

You nod again, letting yourself relax into her embrace. The feeling is familiar, causing memories to start pulling at your mind.

Where’s my goodnight hug?

A woman’s voice. A voice you feel tugging at the deepest strings of your heart, causing the tears to finally spill over your lashes.

And all at once, you’re not just hugging Debbie. You’re hugging her too, whoever she is.

As you pull away, frantically brushing away your tears, you can’t help but smile at Debbie. Then the smile fades a little, as you remember the severity of the situation.

“People might come looking for me,” you warn, “dangerous people. You need to tell them as little as possible, even nothing at all if you can help it.”

“Of course, we’ve got your back.”

You grip Debbie hands again, tighter than before, trying to impart how serious this is.

“Not for me. For you. For the town. For anyone here who I’ve ever spoken to. They will not hesitate to hurt you, or even kill you, if they think they can get a little more information.”

Debbie’s mouth hangs open as she looks at you in shock, fear finally entering her eyes.

Good. She needs to be scared.

“If they come, if anyone comes and asks questions, you have to lie. You need to tell everyone to lie. Do you understand?”

A brief moment passes as she looks at you, a newfound hesitation that you’ve never seen her wear before settling in. Guilt begins to prickle at your conscious again as you remember how it’s your fault.

Finally, she nods in understanding.

“Will they come? Do you know for sure?” She asks, her voice trembling slightly.

“I don’t know. I know Stark has people planting false trails, hopefully that helps.”

Your oh-so-casual use of Iron Man’s government last name hits her along with the rest of this insane situation, and she looks behind you to the superheroes, shaking her head in awe.

“…Stark’s laying…false trail…you gotta be shittin’ me…”

It’s then you get a glimpse of how she might look at you differently if she knew who, or what, you were. With the Allie persona practically dead and gone, things feel strangely tenuous with the woman. It could be even worse if she knew just how dangerous you could be for them.

You find yourself glancing back at the team along with Debbie. As you catch Stark’s eye, he raises an eyebrow at you and briefly lifts his watch-clad wrist, indicating that you needed to finish up.

It’s hard to begrudge the guy when goodbyes feel so foreign now. The raging emotion accompanying this one is too uncomfortable to bear, and you feel yourself needing to be done with it all.

…but Debbie, after everything she’s done for you, you have to make this count. You can’t just throw it away like every other time before.

Turning back, you find the older woman already looking at you. While there’s this undercurrent of awe that hadn’t been present before, there’s that all-knowing wisdom about her that’s always been there. Like she knows all your secrets before you do.

You both kind of just look at each other for a minute or two. She might just be enjoying the moment, but beneath your own silence, you’re frantically trying to grab at the right words to convey how much her generosity means to you.

You open and close your mouth several times, thinking you’ve thought of something just to forget it or get shy right at the last minute.

Another minute of you very clearly struggling, and Debbie’s chiming in, gruffly saying, “Kid, we don’t have to do the thing.”

“I—what?”

You’d been just about to force something out when her words settle over you. It sounded so Debbie yet so unlike Debbie all at the same time. The woman herself seems a little surprised at herself.

“Ethel’s daughter got her a boxed set of Grey’s Anatomy, and we—oh foot, we’re getting off subject here,” she rushes out gruffly. You bite back a laugh at the reference she never meant to make. It would only make her more embarrassed.

“The point is,” she continues, trying very hard to move past her little fan moment, “you don’t have to say anything. We don’t have to make this a big moment. Neither of us are big gesture kind of gals – no need to torture ourselves.”

“I just—I don’t know how—”

“I mean it,” she cuts off your stuttering again, any progress you make toward a heartfelt and eloquent goodbye monologue shut down once again by your landlord.

…your friend.

“C’mon,” you whine a little, “can’t I say—”

“Nope,” she huffs gruffly, trying to hide the faint shimmering in her eyes by turning away from you toward the peaks, “this ain’t forever, kid. I’m still expecting to see your ass here again.”

“I don’t know when that’ll be.”

You’re taken aback at how small and childlike your voice sounds. So scared. So unsure of herself. When was the last time you sounded like that?

“Good. Gives you plenty of time to plan out a better script for our next ‘see ya later’.”

She smooths over the grumpiness of her tone by giving you a small half smile, the laugh lines around her eyes crinkling as she looks at you. You smile back at her, hoping beyond hope that it conveys everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say this time around.

Before you know it, Debbie’s turning quickly back toward her old pickup, and the moment is over.

“Better hurry back or that Dorito is gonna shit himself.”

Debbie’s definitely thrown some weird sentences out there in the past, but this was at a whole new level. What the fuck?

When you don’t respond right away, she adds over her should, “The tall blonde man with the constipated, pinched face. Never seen shoulders so broad with such a skinny waist. Man must think he’s a god, but he’s just a corn chip.”

Genuine laughter bubbles up from your throat. Only Debbie could somehow pick out the Avenger’s biggest asshole and deliver the most scorching of burns, all for shits and giggles.

By the time you get a hold of yourself, Debbie’s too far away for you to really say anything else to her. Not without screaming it, anyway. And the things you want to say aren’t for the entirety of Superhero Monthly. For someone who complains so often about her creaky joints, Debbie scuttles faster than any person you’d ever met.

You settle for just watching contentedly until she finally makes it to her truck, waving when she settles herself in the driver’s seat once again. Your throat seizes with emotion as she waves back.

Despite wanting to watch her drive down the winding road back toward town, you make yourself turn and walk back toward the main group. You don’t even let yourself look at the cabin again as you pass it, knowing it would just be another burst of painful emotion if you did.

If there’s one thing the past 24 hours have taught you, it’s that emotions are fucking annoying as shit.

As you shuffle to a halt in front of the waiting Avengers, Tony Stark claps his hands and says, “Did the diner accept your resignation?”

“I uh, I guess so?”

“Love it,” he says, “then let’s rock and roll.”

“It’s a good thing Parker isn’t here right now,” Sam mutters from a little ways away, “he’d be roasting your ass for that.”

“Fuck off Woodstock.”

Sam and Bucky snort with giggles, only quieting down when Stark turns around and fixes them with what you know is the coldest of Dad Stares he has in his arsenal.

“Okay, moving on,” Stark turns back to face you, “how’s that fire of yours react to small spaces?”

The small smile you’d had with Sam and Bucky’s antics falls away.

“Probably not the biggest fan in the world, if I’m being honest,” you mutter.

“Let me put it this way; is there a chance the jet turns into an open flame grill if things go wrong?”

You don’t want to admit it, but yeah, probably. Controlling it is hard even on a good day, and that’s when you don’t have to worry about walls or anything. There’s a very good chance this goes badly within the first five minutes of taking flight.

Your fingers start to heat up like the fire knows it’s being talked about. Bitch.

“Honesty is the best policy here, kid,” Stark’s addition interrupts your panicked thoughts, “not gonna toss you out over the Mississippi or anything. You gonna light it up?”

“Good chance of it, yeah,” you admit begrudgingly, stubbornly ignoring the stabbing pinpricks of heat arching over your shoulders.

“Lucky for us, I plan ahead sometimes,” he turns back toward the open ramp to the ship, calling, “You’re up, Banner.”

Dr. Banner comes forward again, his face already apologetic as you meet his gaze.

“We have two options here to keep you and everyone on board safe,” he says, his voice surprisingly authoritative compared to his demeanor.

“O-okay,” you stutter, then release a shaky breath to try and ease some tension.

“Number one, Tony and I developed some fireproof restraints that would cover your hands completely. Even if your powers start getting out of control, everything will be contained.”

The clamp of cold metal, so at odds against the white hot of your skin. Sparks sputter out intermittently, wanting to fight a battle you were barely conscious of.

“What’s the other option?” You ask, jaw clenched against the unwanted memory. The other option has to be better. There’s no way you would let someone restrain you again.

Banner gives you an understanding nod, then continues, “Working with enhanced folks over the years, we’ve been able to concoct a short-term sedative that would put you under for the duration of the flight.”

More needles. More restraints. More drugs. The options weren’t great, no matter how you slice it. You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting the endless flashes of the sensations and the terror and the cold—

“Hey, you’re safe. You’re okay.”

There’s that softness again, coming to rest over your senses. It’s different enough from the rest that you can’t help but focus on it.

Focus on him.

You manage to open your eyes again. Looking to your right, you see Bucky. He’s looking down at you with nothing but reassurance and calm.

“This isn’t like it was with them. You’re safe with us.”

“I-I ju-just—”

Your voice seems to vibrate as panic takes hold. The heat is there again, centering around your spine this time, making you want to curve in on yourself.

“Look at me, focus on me,” he murmurs.

Turning so that you face him head on, you try to hone in on the different shades of blue in his eyes. You vaguely notice that the rest of the group has stepped away, giving you a minute.

“I know neither option is great,” he says quietly, “but neither is the pressure you would put on yourself trying to keep it in.”

You nod along with what he says, the logic making sense to you even through the fog.

“Which one seems like the least amount of stress for you?”

Thinking, you try to compare the two in your mind. If you were to choose the restraints, you’d be conscious of it the entire time. Somehow, knowing you were trapped, being painfully aware of being so enclosed…the idea alone is enough to make you shatter.

“I need to be out,” you whisper, “I’m not—I just don’t think I can—”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain it,” he whispers, stepping closer. You let him, choosing to allow that softness to be your primary sensation rather than the fire burning you from the inside.

“I know this is the better option,” you choke out, “but I still hate needles. I had being drugged like this.”

“I do too.”

Looking up at him, you see nothing but genuine pain and honesty. He understands. For his sake, you wish he didn’t.

“I’ll stay right next to you the entire time,” he promises, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

All you can do is nod, every minute more overwhelming than the next since you walked back down from the mountain yesterday.

You allow Bucky to lead you back toward the ship, Dr. Banner and Stark standing outside as the rest start to file in.

“Ready to go, lava lamp?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, wringing your hands together, “could…could you guys just sedate me? I know it might be a hassle, but—”

“Not a hassle at all kiddo, promise,” Stark gently cuts you off, “and besides, as a rule we like to not be set on fire. Kind of a comfort thing.”

Banner looks at Stark in shock at his joke about the threat you pose, but you let out a little giggle. It’s nice for it to be the subject of something funny, rather than every other bad thing it is.

The two scientists lead you onto the ship, your legs trembling with every step against the metallic floor. The only thing keeping you steady is Bucky trailing behind you.

They lead you to some seats near the back of the jet, a little separate from the rest. Good; some space from the others might help.

You get your things stowed away with Bucky’s help before sitting down. Natasha’s intelligent green eyes meet yours from across the ship, and her kind smile only adds to your feeling of safety.

She’s the one who convinced you to do this. She’s what made you believe they can be trusted. You can do this.

After getting yourself strapped in, Dr. Banner steps in front of you. You can tell he’s trying to make himself as nonthreatening as possible. Even so, it’s kind of hard not to feel terrified as he holds up the glinting needle in the shadows.

Your breath catches. Hazy flashes explode from behind your eyes, erupting in a storm of pure panic as your body tries to remind you why you stay away from them.

“You’re safe, I promise.”

Bucky’s warm words break through the fear as the needle pierces your arm. You feel a prick for the briefest of seconds before it’s out again, Dr. Banner already having plunged the sedative into your veins.

“Damn, you’re good at that,” you mumble, words slurring a little as the drug starts to take effect.

“Years of practice,” he chuckles.

The last thing you hear is Bucky, murmuring something again to you, so quiet only you can hear.

“You’re safe with me.”

***

tags: @obsidianvibranium @dreamwritesimagines @valhalla-kristin

thanks for being here y'all this thing is my baby and it means so much to me

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #jenna writes #reflections series

[theonethinginlife]

"Amanda talks to the baby all day long. Sometimes, she gets answers back."

Rollisi baby fic based on the news. 

#svu fic #rollisi #amanda rollins #sonny carisi #jenna writes

[jennagrinsoverml]

Chapter: 1/1

Rating: T

Pairings: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Notes: Post-reveal pre-relationship; Aged Up

Summary:

“Remember when you used to think you were in love with me?”

With one question, Marinette turns a pleasant movie night into an argument—and an opportunity to finally, finally talk through all these feelings they're keeping from each other.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfic #adrinette #adrienette #prpr #ml lovesquare #post reveal pre relationship #aged up #mutual pining #jenna writes

[quotefeeling]

I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.

Jenna, Waitress

#Jenna #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[thoughtkick]

What I really want is someone who will wake me up early so I won’t miss a sunrise.

Jenna Evans Welch

#Jenna Evans Welch #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[jybyls]

Puddle

Jenna: Why are your shoes wet ?

Y/n: There was a puddle.

Jenna: So why did you step in it ?

Y/n: There was a puddle...

#jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega #oneshot #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jybyls' writing #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega incorrect quotes

[writing-rat]

Used Farmhand

Pairings: Lorraine Day x AFAB Reader

Content Warning: 18+ Content, G!P Lorraine Day, Werewolf Alpha Lorraine, Lorraine has a penis, Vaginal Sex, Knotting, Mating, Maybe OOC, Blowjob, Handjob

Summary: You are working when Lorraine is in heat. That's when she decides to use the farmhand... you.

Word count: 1409

It was a sunny day on the Day Farm considering it was Spring. The mother and father you worked for had gone out to a farmer’s market, leaving Lorraine to keep you in check and they also knew she would enter heat soon. They were interesting people, and you never had actually seen an alpha look so submissive. She was shy and skinny, she was way too vulnerable to be an alpha. Alas you didn’t question it as your omega seemed to jump in joy when her dad said she might enter heat whike you were there. 

That is exactly what happened. You was at the barn, putting old, rotten hay into one pile while the clean, fresh hay was in another pile. You was distinctly aware of another person’s scent coming towards you but you thought it was just RJ, Lorraine’s friend who was an omega. You sighed. “What d’you want RJ?” You called out, expecting a response from the weak man (more like boy). The response surprised you however. It was a growl, and you felt yourself tense up as you gulped, hearing the noise get closer. “Lorraine?” you asked before turning around, where you saw the alpha standing there, looking you up and down. Your stomach tightened as you watched her and knew you were cornered. “Hey alpha,” you spoke casually, trying to not glance down. She was wearing her usual colourful top and the red jeans that showed her dick off. You realised you was staring as your quickly looked up again. She was spreading pheromones around the barn. This was sending your own omega in heat, causing you to whimper. 

“Need to breed,” she finally talked, her voice a notch higher. You blushed, realising she was the one in control. She was just submissive to everything except in bed it seemed. “Need to breed you,” she specified as she was looking you up and down and licked her lips.

“Y-you do?” you stuttered out, trying to restrain your heat, but it was impossible with every step she did to get closer. 

“Yes,” she growled out then quickly pounced on you and pinned you against the wall as she was dry humping you. “I know how you feel. You stare at me constantly when I’m around until I catch you. You even look at me when I’m just swimming in the lake,” she explained, grunting as she humped. You whimpered in response and nodded, letting yourself just relax. 

“Yes alpha,” you responded as you was trying to yank your tanktop off. Lorraine took it in her hands however. She ripped it off instead including your bra before she was biting your neck and shoulder.

 

“I’m going to treasure you omega,” she explained. “I will mark you with bites all over. I will mate bite you. You will hold my litter and we will have a family,” she grunted out. You knew the alpha was in control then as you nodded. 

“Yes alpha, fill me with your pups,” you moaned out, as you felt her bulge against your thigh, still as ever. She smirked before she started to yank down your shorts, drool slipping down her mouth as she ripped off your panties. 

“You don’t know how long I imagined this,” she hummed out. You gulped and nodded as you let her speak, her starting to also strip down. First her top, revealing no bra, then her jeans that had on some loose boxers. “I wanted you so bad for months,” she added on. “Jacked off about you, wanted you to suck me off and stroke me as well as taking my knot inside you. You are going to do all of that, in order,” she commanded. Nodding, you glanced down and saw it twitch. You was shyly pushed into your knees then. It slowly seemed like Lorraine took control over her wolf inside her. Slowly, you licked from her tip to her balls while making eye contact. She was moaning as she grasped at your hair gently, before you took it in your mouth and closed your eyes as you was bobbing your head up and down on it. You used your tongue whenever possible as soft moans slipped out of her mouth as she gripped tighter. 

Slowly, you started to also massage her balls, seeing that she also liked it as she was humping your mouth. You gagged every now and then but allowed it to happen as you kept sucking, licking and massaging. She was soon gripping harder and was panting. “Close,” Lorraine whimpered out, to which you was nodding as you kept sucking. She couldn’t help it after a minute as she came inside your mouth. Quickly you swallowed as you was pulling out, using your hand to stroke her like she wanted. You looked up at her, as you was soaking wet and fingering yourself. Lorraine was looking down at you with lust still but hesitance. 

“Have your way with me when you ravage me,” you spoke, stroking faster. She started to nod as she was humping into her hand at the same pace as your fingers. You bit your lip harder as you soon went faster than ever, to test if she was. She was as she humped faster, but went harder. That’s when she suddenly came all over your face with a smirk. 

“Always wanted to paint your face,” she smirked out and gripped at your hair as you looked up. You was bright red as she admitted that. “Now, on all fours, ass facing towards me,” Lorraine commanded, getting more confident again. Obeying, you did as told as you stopped fingering yourself. She licked her lips at seeing you drip all over the floor. “Making such a mess in the hay just like the dirty slut you are,” she degraded. You gasped when you felt her hand strike your ass as you widened your eyes. It didn’t stop the arousal coming out. “So you like being slapped huh slut?” Lorraine spoke, before she suddenly pressed you into a mating press, her inside you immediately. You gasped at the sudden pleasure. “Something else will be hitting you now,” she spoke casually as she held your hips. You was nodding. 

“Please alpha, fuck me already,” you moaned out loudly. You didn’t care if the Day’s came back, you just needed her to fuck you. She was nodding as she was ruthlessly pounding into you then. You panted as you was loving every single thrust she did, even if it hurt a lot at first. She was getting more and more confident as she used you and smirked while doing so. She was panting against your ear as she held you closer, soon biting your shoulder and neck, marking you. You blushed heavily as you knew you were mated for life now, but you loved the idea of that. Truth be told you had fallen for the girl, and you was sure the Day’s knew hence why they had you over during her heat this time. They usually made you have a week break. Soon you felt close as you was whimpering and whining. “Need to cum,” you moaned out. 

“Go on omega. Come for me,” Lorraine panted out as she held you harder and pressed closer against you before you came all over her dick. Feeling you orgasm made her also cum inside you as she was thrusting a few times before she knotted you, releasing more cum. She was panting against your ear as she was catching her breath, feeling better than before. 

“Thank you for accepting me,” she then spoke gently. You nodded. 

“I have had feelings for you for months by now. I’m glad the Day’s didn’t keep me away this time,” you spoke with a smile.

“It’s because I told them I wanted to be mated to you. They allowed it as you are a great worker,” she spoke. You blinked in shock then nodded. 

“I’m glad you wanted me here,” you spoke before leaning against her more. She was nodding as she held you even closer. 

Soon the knot was down and she pulled out. “I’ll get you some new clothes. The parents aren’t back yet so come with me,” she spoke.

“For a second round?” You responded.  

“You caught me,” Lorraine replied then picked you up immediately as she smirked. “Now, let’s go. Quit dillydallying,” she added on. You was nodding, holding her closer.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #ratboy writes #ratboy writing #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x reader smut