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missmonsters2 · 2 years

Text

Cuts of Your Silhouette (18+)

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda can no longer go to the universe where she'd be most happy but she'll use all the power she's accumulated so far to go the universe where she's most loved. What she finds in this universe is unexpected but in the end, Wanda cannot help but covet it no matter what.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. soft!dark!Wanda. dubcon. explicit smut. Fingering. Oral. choking. overstimulation. strap-on use (cum filled). dirty talk. obsessive behaviour. domestic fluff. angst. MoM spoilers

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any other platforms (even with credit)

Note: Innocent moots, don't look at me 👀 This is me acknowledging MoM but only in the fact that Wanda is so hot and deserves to be happy in her own unhinged way LOL

miláčik - honey/darling

Count: 7.2k

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The universe where I'm most loved.

Wanda chants this only thing in her head, cautious hope blooming where there was only decay.

Earth-838 was no longer an option, thanks to Strange's incessant determination to stop her from becoming happy.

That universe was closed off to her, but it was okay. If Wanda couldn't have the universe where she was most happy, she could make do with where she was most loved.

Wanda has just enough of America's power to make one trip, and she needs to make it count before Strange could come and ruin everything again.

The universe where I'm most loved.

A part of Wanda feels like she's missing something important from this universe she's abandoning. It almost feels as if something is resisting her from going to the universe where she's most loved, but Wanda forces her body to traverse.

Enough.

Wanda has had enough of the grief and misery this universe brought. She has always loved more and loved harder than everyone else in her life. For once, Wanda wants to be the person who is loved beyond imaginable measures.

And this new universe will give that to her.

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White quartz.

It's the first thing Wanda notices. The kitchen island is huge, stretching and covering the middle of the kitchen, and she immediately falls in love with it.

Wanda misses cooking real meals, a part of her that was subdued over time, with the lack of time and survival at the forefront. But this kitchen looked well-used while spotless.

The smell of freshly baked cookies invades Wanda's nose, and she almost feels flustered at how homey it makes her feel.

Looking up, Wanda turns her head and is shocked by her own reflection. Her hair is still a bright auburn, falling just a couple of inches below her shoulder with some natural waves as if she hadn't bothered straightening or fully curling it.

"Mom, mom, mom!"

The sudden voices and thudding footsteps through the door startle Wanda. She looks to where the front door opened, and two tiny bodies come barreling through towards her.

The arms thrown around her waist almost knock the wind out of her, but the tears sting her eyes because—

"Billy, Tommy," Wanda trembles.

"Mom, mom! Did you make the cookies?"

"Are they done?"

"Can we have ice cream with it right now?"

Wanda needs to swallow down the overwhelming emotion that knots in her throat before she can answer.

Of course, Wanda thought. Where she was most loved—it'd be where her boys were. Whatever had occurred in this universe to cause Wanda to not be the happiest—it didn't matter because her boys were here, and as long as they were here, she could be the most loved.

"Sur—"

"Wanda Maximoff, you better not be giving in and spoiling the boys' appetite before dinner."

The new voice makes Wanda freeze. It's not familiar, raising Wanda's hackles as she holds the boys closer to her. She looks to the door again, and when you come through...Wanda's at a loss for words.

There's no universe where she's seen you.

You're struggling to hold all the grocery bags in your arms as you peer over to the trio.

"Did you boys just abandon me with all the bags for cookies?" You cock your brows at them, meant to look displeased, but Wanda and the boys could see the tiny smirk of amusement on your lips.

The boys giggle before they move out of Wanda's hold towards you. There's a moment where Wanda wants to grab them back to her again, but when she sees them running towards you and taking some of the bags to lessen your load, Wanda can't help but stare.

"Sorry, mum," Billy gives you a boyish smile, trying to take another bag from you to help.

"But we could smell the cookies from outside!" Tommy cackles but still helps you out as well.

Wanda feels her heart stop.

Mum?

The boys were referring to you as mum?

How could you be—

Now that one of your hands is free, Wanda watches as you ruffle the boys' hair one at a time before kissing the crown of their head.

"I'll forgive this once because I know mom's cookies are the best in the world and if I had been faster...I would've left you two in the dust," you start laughing as the boy screams indignations with squealing laughter.

You're still laughing as the three of you make it back to the kitchen, placing all the bags on the counter.

"Why don't you two run up and finish your homework? We'll give you a call when dinner is ready." You look at the boys.

"But the cookies—"

"—Are for after dinner," you cut them off with a look that has the boys sighing as they look at each other and give you and Wanda a kiss on the cheek before running off.

Anxiety fills Wanda the second she's alone with you. It makes her want to raise her hands, preparing to fight you because who could you be that would make you mum to her boys? Who were you to intrude in on her happiness and the world where she was most loved?

Was this a universe where Vision existed and they divorced? Were you their stepmother?

You turn your face to her, and Wanda's hackles rise like the hair on the back of her neck. You reach out, grabbing her apron and pulling her towards you. Wanda's about to unleash the full force of her magic on you but is stopped short when she feels warm lips against her own.

It's hot—needy and desperate almost.

Her hand falls against your shoulder and grips at your shirt, and the kiss is broken.

"Hi, darling," you pant just mere inches away from her lips. "I really, really like when you look like this."

The way you say it almost sounds like a whine, and Wanda's lip twitches at it.

"Oh?" is the only thing Wanda can say.

You hum, peppering kisses against her jaw and down her neck, and the sensation is almost too overwhelming. On the one hand, this body feels accustomed to the physical affections, but Wanda is not.

"I missed you all day," you sigh. "Can't believe you're just being all pretty here all the time and I miss hours of it. Should I work from home tomorrow?"

Wanda swallows. Your lips keep peppering kisses, and Wanda almost has whiplash how the needy kisses turn into tender ones, brushing over the tip of her nose and eyelids.

Something hot stings behind Wanda's eyes.

"Can you?" Wanda manages to say. She doesn't know what to say otherwise. It's daunting to know she knows nothing about her life here—she knows nothing about you.

"I don't have any meetings tomorrow," you stand straighter, your eyes drifting up in thought. "Maybe I should take the day off," you muse. "It's been a while since we did something fun with just the two of us."

Wanda doesn't know what to say. She just looks at you, wary and confused. You don't seem to notice her expression too much, taking her silence as agreement to what you suggested.

You turn to look through the groceries. "What do you want to eat for dinner tonight? I bought a variety of things since you said you weren't sure what you're craving."

Wanda weighs her options and choices. She needs to integrate herself into this life and ensure you don't suspect anything.

"Is there something you're craving?" Wanda asks you in a friendly tone.

You hum slowly in thought. "Oh, how about those meatballs you made last month? Those were so good, I've been dreaming about them." You start to put away the groceries other than what ingredients you'll need. You mull over what sides to have.

You're mumbling about what's easier to make, and it becomes clear to Wanda you'll be staying to cook with her, and although it's foreign, Wanda finds it endearing.

Once you finish deciding, you turn to smile impishly at her, and Wanda quirks her brow at it. Despite not knowing you, she somehow feels like she knows that look on you.

"Want to split a cookie? We have to be super quiet, though. I'm pretty sure the boys have a secret power of knowing when we're eating cookies without them."

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It becomes clear throughout the evening that while, yes, her boys love her, they're not the reason why this variant of Wanda is the most loved in the universe.

It's you—you're the reason.

The evening puts Wanda on edge for different reasons. She looks at the ring on her left hand, trying to not fiddle with it again. You helped her put it back on when the two of you were done cooking, seemingly knowing where she always placed it.

She was married, Wanda deliberated, to a woman. It was odd, Wanda had never considered it, but she found that she was at ease with it.

You make her laugh, you look at her with so much love, and Wanda feels suffocated by it. She feels smothered in every way she has ever wanted to be, and she could drown in your love and the way you look at her and the boys.

They're not yours; it's obvious. You've stepped up into a role you never had to, yet you did. For her, yes, but because you love the two boys as if they're your own.

You always find a way to touch her, as if you can't be close enough. It's your legs pressed against hers underneath the table, almost tangled together. It's your hand on top of hers at the diner table or on her thigh.

It's all subconscious, Wanda knows. She knows because she looks into your head on a surface level. Things float about and tease deep inside, and Wanda must refrain from breaking into your mind piece by piece. There'd be time for that later.

"Alright, what should we do tonight? Movies? Games?" You ask as you gather the plates with Tommy to place into the dishwasher. Wanda's eyes trail after you, staring at your form in scrutiny before Billy tugs at her arm.

"What do you want to do, mom?" He asks her, and Wanda knows he's asking her because he can tell she's been out of sorts, and it makes her heart swell.

"Oh, anything you want to do, sweetheart," Wanda wraps her arm around Billy, placing his head against her collarbone as she strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

"Movie!" Tommy is screaming from the kitchen as he runs back in with you trailing behind with the cookies and ice cream.

"Do you mind grabbing plates, darling?" You ask Wanda, kissing the crown of her head as you pass by her and set the things down in your arms.

Wanda is about to get up, but you place your hand on her arm.

"Use your powers," you tilt your head in confusion as to why she was getting up.

Wanda is surprised you so openly encourage her to use her powers, but she likes it. Four plates float from the kitchen to the dining table and set themselves down gently.

"Alright, how many cookie ice cream sandwiches do we want?" You look at the boys.

"Ten!" The boys shout simultaneously as they look at each other, smiling.

You snort, and Wanda finds herself laughing.

"Ambitious," you smirk, "but let's start with two and go from there."

"Mom," Tommy whines as he looks at Wanda like he knows she'll be more likely to cave in. "Tell mum to make it three."

The look Tommy gives her makes Wanda tender. This is everything she wanted, this was everything she deserved, and she'd do anything for her boys.

Wanda looks at you and shrugs. "It can't hurt to have one more."

You point the ice cream scoop at her but grab more cookies. "When either the ice cream melts by the time they get to the third one, or they get too full, you will regret this, Maximoff."

You're still grinning, and the boys are chatting animatedly, and Wanda is surprised to find she wants this moment to last, even with you in it.

The boys grab their plates and take off carefully to the sofa and begin looking for a movie to watch. You diligently make a cookie ice cream sandwich for Wanda.

"Let's go," you say as you pass her the dessert.

"Not going to make yourself one?" Wanda asked as you went to put the ice cream back in the freezer.

You return, pecking her quickly on the lips, and then promptly take a bite out of the dessert you just made Wanda.

"Someone's going to have to eat the third one the boys won't finish," you say after chewing.

"And if they finish it?" Wanda challenges.

You grin at her innocently. "If it seems like they're on track to eating the third one, I'll share with my generous wife."

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The boys don't finish the third ice cream cookie sandwich as you predicted, and you look entirely too smug at her when you're eating the soggy dessert. Of course, you generously shared the dessert with Wanda, who tried to refuse, but it was futile.

The night was peaceful, and Wanda almost hadn't wanted it to end. You spent the evening curled into her, almost purring as she ran her fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp. You fit perfectly against her, warm and alive.

Wanda doesn't know what to think, and she merely goes with the flow, keeping you close as you clearly so want. She strokes the softness of the skin of your arm while you play with the fingers of her other hand.

When you do this, Wanda can't help but think about how you don't know. You don't know her corrupted fingers, blackened by the results of her desperation to be happy.

"I think it's time for bed, boys," you say suddenly, and Wanda looks over to find the boys half-falling asleep on the couch.

"No, I'm not sleepy," Tommy argues, trying to open his eyes, but they stay half-lidded.

Billy doesn't seem to agree but doesn't speak up either, curling into Wanda's side.

"Bedtime, Tommy," Wanda gives him a look to which he frowns but agrees as he gets up with Billy, and they make their way upstairs.

"I'm going to clean up," you tell Wanda.

"Do you want help?" She offers, but you shake your head.

"No, why don't you start tucking the boys in and I'll be there soon?"

Wanda nods, hesitating for a moment before she leans over and kisses the corner of your mouth, and walks off. She can hear the sounds of dishes clanking as she makes her way up the stairs. Taking her time, she looks around. The hallway is filled with photos of you and her together, and there were photos of all four of them.

But one particular photo made her pause, heart dropping into her stomach as she stared at it.

A photo with Vision with the kids.

Vision—he was in this universe as well? Had he died? She stares at the photo, finding that the kids don't look much younger—a year at the most.

Wanda stands at the photo longer than she thinks until she can hear someone calling her.

"Mom?"

It's Billy and Tommy, stepping out of the washroom as they've finished brushing their teeth.

"Hey, all ready for bed?" Wanda smiles at them, and they nod. She follows them to their room as they both jump into their bed, only a couple of feet away from each other.

The scene is all too familiar, and her chest aches. She tucks them in, kissing each of their foreheads as she sits on the edge of Tommy's bed. At this point, you enter the room.

Tommy smiles at you as you grin back at him, walking over to him and kissing his forehead. He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything.

You then walk over to Billy's bed, sitting on the edge and kissing his forehead.

"Did you have fun tonight?" You ask softly, and the boys nod. "And you finished your homework?"

The boys roll their eyes in union but nod nonetheless.

"Angels, the lot of you are," you tease, and they giggle.

"Goodnight," you and Wanda bid. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," they say together.

"Love you," Billy says sleepily as his eyes close, and Tommy mumbles something similar.

With that, you stand up, holding your hand out for Wanda. She looks at her kids one more time, chanting to herself that she will see them in the morning, that this isn't a dream and she won't wake to the nightmare.

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"Were you okay today?" You ask softly. "You were kind of quiet."

The two of you were lying in bed together. You have curled into Wanda again. Your face rested against her chest, arm around her as you rubbed her back.

It's soothing, Wanda thought. It almost made her bitter that she hadn't felt like this in a long time.

Wanda felt you shift and looked down to see you peering up at her.

"Of course," Wanda reassures you. "Am I always so rambunctious?"

"Sometimes," you grin, teasing her, and Wanda pinches your side, making you try to wriggle away from her. She holds you tighter, preventing you from moving too far away from her.

When things settle down, and you wriggle to move back close against her, Wanda stares at you pensively.

"Do you love me?" She asks.

The question surprises you as you look back up at her. You study her face as if you were looking for answers.

"You haven't asked that since just before our wedding," you comment and that surprises Wanda. Because, at the very least, she knows the two of you have been married for a couple of years.

This variant of her was so sure you loved her that she hadn't questioned it for years?

It was almost laughable to Wanda. Something jealous brews inside her, simmering just beneath the surface.

Wanda doesn't say anything, and she thinks you might not either, or you'll say something so predictable and empty like, "of course I do."

But you simply press your face into her chest, reaching to grab her hand and drag it to your cheek.

"Look," you tell her, and Wanda freezes.

Privacy was always an issue for the people around Wanda. They always worried about whether or not she was listening to them, even if unintentionally.

Now with how her powers had grown, it was a given that people automatically assumed she was breaking into your head. Don't get it wrong, Wanda had. Anything to get the results she wanted, she broke every unspoken rule to get it.

But here you were, freely offering Wanda access. Here you were, being vulnerable to her with all the trust.

And Wanda didn't hesitate.

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You sleep soundly on your side with your back facing Wanda, and she stares at the back of your head.

She should kill you, Wanda thinks, make it look like an accident.

The boys would be sad, but she could help them get it over time, couldn't she?

Seeing into your mind was too much. It was too much to see how lucky this variant of this Wanda was. Sure, she had lost many people to Thanos. She had even lost Vision last year to another villain threatening earth.

But the loss only makes Wanda laugh bitterly because she had already split with Vision years prior, agreeing to amicable joint custody with the boys.

All because she fell in love with you.

But could she blame this variant? Wanda watched everything play like a long sitcom about how you loved her.

This variant had been as miserable as she, had lost just as much as Wanda had, but she had you.

It was unfair, Wanda thought distantly. Why had you not been in her universe? Or if you were, why did they not meet? Why was she once again the only Wanda to be alone?

This variant loved you tenderly—desperately. She kissed and made love to you like you'd break if she was too rough.

And Wanda hates that variant for it. To love something so much that she was capable of treasuring it.

Wanda scoots closer to you, pressing against you as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you flush against her. She presses a kiss against your shoulder and bites into it.

You whimper.

Wanda resolves that all of this is hers now.

This life, the boys, and you.

Everything belongs to her.

And the first thing Wanda wants to know is if you will break if she's too rough.

Wanda's hand slides against your thigh, gripping the inner of it roughly before she moves back up and yanks your panties down.

The sharpness of her touch wakes you.

"Wanda?" Your voice is groggy as you startle. "What are you doing?"

"Touching you," Wanda replies simply, her hand slipping between your folds, rubbing your length slowly, stroking your clit in circles when she comes up.

You moan lowly, your hips moving with her hand as she sucks and nips at your neck. It isn't long until Wanda's fingers are slick from you.

"You got so wet quickly, miláčik," Wanda husks in your ear. "You must want me to fuck you badly."

Your breath hitches at the way Wanda talks to you. The two of you engage in dirty talk often, but not like this.

Wanda guides your leg over her hip before she resumes stroking your pussy until you're dripping and thrusting your hips desperately against her fingers for more.

Wanda's other hand is under you, wrapped around your torso and underneath your shirt as she gropes your chest roughly. Her index finger rolls your hardened nipple back and forth, and she can hear your labored breathing.

Your neck is littered with hickeys, dark and bruising. Wanda isn't even close to being done with you, and you look so ruined already. Wanda wants to see you completely undone. She wants to break you down to nothing so she can build you back up to be hers.

"Wanda..." you keen, gripping the bed sheet on the side, trying to not cry at how bad you want more. Something feels different, but you can't put your finger on it. Honestly, you could barely even think about it with how your body was trembling.

"Use your words, miláčik," Wanda bites at your earlobe. "Tell me what you want—how ready your body is."

You feel close already with how diligent Wanda had been paying attention to your clit, but you just want—

"Please, please, please," you barely get out. "I want you inside, I wanna feel you...I want to cum."

Wanda mutters about how you're such a good girl and thrusts three fingers inside you until she's all the way in, stroking your walls.

"Oh, fuck, yes," you moan, gripping the bedsheets tighter as your leg tenses against Wanda's hip.

How you feel on Wanda's fingers has her biting your shoulder again, almost hard enough to leave imprints. You whimper at the pain, but Wanda doesn't let up.

Her other hand abandons your chest and moves out of your shirt up to your neck, grasping it. You feel so delicate against her, and Wanda almost understands why this variant was adamant about being gentle.

"Wanda—" you say, almost a little alarmed, but Wanda hushes you.

"You're gonna cum just like this," she hisses in your ear, squeezing your throat a little tighter. She licks the shell of your ear, and her voice is throaty when she says, "I missed you, too. You wouldn't even believe how long I've been waiting for you."

Wanda can feel herself dripping for you, but she wants to feel you come over her fingers. She keeps her thrusts inside you, curling her fingers as she strokes that spot inside you that makes you tremble.

"Wanda—"

"Go on and cum, miláčik," Wanda moves her fingers a little faster, keeping the pressure steady as it finally mounts over, and you come with a long groan.

You feel lightheaded and exhausted as Wanda strokes you through the remnants of the hardest orgasm you've ever had.

Going limp against her body, Wanda releases your throat as she pulls her fingers out of you, earning a hum from you. She sucks the mess you made on her fingers, licking the length of her fingers one by one.

You're panting, trying to regain control of your breathing, and Wanda moves and pushes you to lie on your back. She grips the end of your t-shirt, dragging it up and over your head. She stares at your naked form unabashed, appreciating it for a moment before completely undressing herself.

Wanda adjusts her body over yours, legs straddling your thigh. You feel Wanda lower herself, her wetness spreading over your thigh as she rides it slowly.

The low guttural moan Wanda lets out sparks something in your stomach. She looks at you, her eyes glowing red for just a moment.

"It's good you're taking the day off tomorrow."

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"Just like that," Wanda moans, grinding her hips more firmly.

Your hair is gripped tightly, hair threading through Wanda's fingers as she uses it as leverage to thrust her hips into your face. Wanda looks down, only able to see a little less than half your face as she's sitting on it while you eat her out.

Your hands are hooked over Wanda's thigh, securing and occasionally massaging her thighs and hips. Your tongue dips inside her, and Wanda grunts. Her thighs tighten around your head.

Wanda allows you to drag it out a little longer before she pulls at your hair in a warning, and you quickly fasten your lips around her clit, sucking and keeping the pressure steady until Wanda lets out a high keen, thrusting her hips with reckless abandon as she comes messily over your face.

You don't complain about how she might be suffocating you, and when Wanda slows her hips, coming down from her high, she looks to the side. The curtains are still closed, but she can tell it's nearing noon.

Wanda had woken up early to drop the kids off at school while you slept on obliviously. When she came back, she only let you sleep a little longer before waking you by peppering kisses up and down your neck, pressing her body into yours as she lay on top of you.

Wanda's been working your body since, and she's lost count of how many times she's made you orgasm. Similarly, she's lost count for herself as well.

Climbing off your face carefully, she watches you use your fingers to clean your face, licking her slick off your fingers. The sight of you exhausted but clearly having enjoyed yourself has Wanda leaving more hickeys down your body. You're littered with them, all marked up by her, and she revels in it.

"Wanda..." you whine, trying to move your body away, but she holds you still. "I can't anymore."

But Wanda doesn't listen, kissing her way up your body until she's face to face with you. She captures your lips in a messy kiss, licking the inside of your mouth and the teeth pulling at your bottom lip. She can taste herself with the taste of you, and it's all Wanda wants.

"One more," Wanda tells you, caressing your arms until she reaches your hands, pushes them against the mattress, and holds them down.

"Wanda, I really can't—" you shake your head. "We've been going at it for hours...I'm too sensitive now."

"Feels better that way," Wanda mutters, barely even listening to you. Her body feels addicted to you. Everything in her tells her to take it, to make you give everything to her. You're hers now; you're always going to be hers.

You try to reason with Wanda, unsure what's gotten into her. The last time the two of you had this much sex was around the time you were on your honeymoon.

But even then, whatever was happening now was different. Wanda was always a little desperate. It was just who she was after everything she's experienced. As desperate as she was, though, Wanda was also always careful.

That carefulness seemed to fly out of the window since last night. Wanda was fucking you with reckless abandon, determined to take everything and more.

You feel a pressure between your legs, something thick and slick pressing into you. Wanda groans, her forehead dropping against yours. You look down, but the only thing you catch is something red attached to Wanda disappearing into you.

"Wanda—" your breath hitches, feeling the stretch as Wanda moves inside you. "Oh, god, Wanda, it's too much," your hands strain against Wanda's as she laces them together, bringing them over your head and pinned down.

"Just perfect," Wanda mutters, and you can feel her lips ghosting yours. "Feels good, feels so fucking good inside you."

You know then that Wanda used her power to create some kind of strap-on connected to the nerves of her clit. You can feel Wanda's hardened nipples rubbing over yours as she thrusts slowly into you.

When she's all the way in, Wanda pauses, taking a deep breath. You were trembling from how sensitive you felt; it was on the edge of being painful.

But then Wanda moves, and you let out a string of incoherent pleas. She barely moves out before she's thrusting back in. She strokes the same spot inside you over and over until tears run down your face.

"One more," Wanda breathes into your mouth. "One more, give me just one more."

"I can't—" you huff.

"Yes, you can," Wanda cuts you off. Her thrusts get harder but remain the same on moving slightly out before thrusting relentlessly back in. The rough sensation brings you closer and closer to the edge, and Wanda can feel you pulsating as you get near your end.

She drops your hand, and they immediately go to her back, your nails dragging down. Your roughness makes her moan, and Wanda sinks her head into your neck.

"Fuck, I want to come inside you," Wanda mutters. She wants to coat the inside of you. She wants to own you in there too. Wanda wants it all. "I think you'd like that, wouldn't you, miláčik?"

You don't answer, and Wanda grips your face as she lifts her head to stare down at you. Her thrusts are getting messy as you are nearing the climax.

"Wouldn't you like it?" Wanda asks you again, more roughly this time. "Tell me you want me inside you like that right now, miláčik."

It's like an unspoken threat that if you don't, Wanda won't let you off until you do.

"Yes," you immediately whimper. "Yes, yes, I want you to come inside me."

Wanda looks satisfied as she brings her thumb to stroke your clit until she's roughly ripping your last orgasm out of your over-wrought body.

The moan you let out is soundless as Wanda groans in the back of her throat, and you feel something warm gush inside you. The thrusting doesn't stop as Wanda rides out the waves until you stop pulsating around her.

Your chest heaves just as hers does, trying to calm your breathing. You pray that Wanda finally takes mercy on you and keeps her promise that it was just one more.

You feel the strap-on disappearing until it's just Wanda resting between your legs. She kisses you softly now, and you almost breathe loudly in relief as you return her tender kisses with your own.

Despite how rough Wanda treated you, your gentle kisses are what sways her completely into you. Gentle, rough—you truly love Wanda as she is.

"I love you," Wanda mumbles against your lips. "Always love me."

You stroke her head, finally regaining your breath.

"Have I ever not?"

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The next few weeks for Wanda are complete bliss. Even though you're somewhat wary around her, you still touch her the same.

This life was perfect, Wanda knows. This was the wonderful little family Wanda had ever wanted.

Weekdays are filled with domestic heaven, while the weekends are filled with various activities.

Wanda wants this forever, which is why the headaches and glitches she's been experiencing as of late are concerning.

The spell isn't fully complete, and Wanda curses that she should've fought harder to kill America when she had the chance. They were looking for her, Wanda was sure, and they were getting closer.

On top of that, she could feel her variant fighting to break loose.

'Get out,' Wanda could hear her variant in her head. 'Get out! This isn't yours. None of this is! She isn't yours.'

'She's mine and I would never hurt her or the boys,' Wanda would repeatedly say to temper down her variant.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Wanda snaps her head to look at you, unaware you had approached her.

"Yes," Wanda nods. "Just a headache."

You place your hand over her forehead and frown. "You are a little warm. Maybe you should go lie down. I can finish cleaning and cook tonight."

Wanda nods, and you peck her lips as she makes her way up to her bedroom and locks the door shut. All alone now, her hands returned to their true state, darkened fingers as if decaying. Wanda conjures The Darkhold, flipping through the pages.

There had to be a solution to stay here forever.

There had to be something to keep Strange and America away from her.

But before Wanda can search deeper, she hears wreckage downstairs and your scream.

Wanda immediately transports herself downstairs using her magic and is enraged at the sight.

They found her.

Strange and America stood in her living room with a portal open, posing to fight her when they saw her.

"Wanda, you need to stop this," Strange tries to reason with her again, but she tilts her head at him with a condescending smile.

"Stop what? Living my life here? You're the one intruding, and you need to leave. I'm past mercy, Strange."

"This isn't your life!" Strange yells at her. "Let the variant of you go."

"Silence!" Wanda yells at him.

"Oh? Scared your girlfriend's going to find out?" America said with bravado, but Wanda can see her wariness underneath as she eyes you from the side.

You were cautious but silent.

Wanda begins to conjure the red wisps in her hand. "She's my wife." Thrusting her hands out, she releases her magic, and a fight ensues.

Strange is still trying to reason with her, but Wanda doesn't want to hear it anymore.

"You were a fool to bring the girl here," Wanda sneers at him when she gains the upper hand and has Strange subdued and America in her grasp.

The young girl is choking in Wanda's grip, and she sees it as a chance to finally get the power she needs to make this universe hers permanently.

"Wanda, stop!"

The voice makes Wanda freeze. She turns her head and finds you staring at her with a horrified expression.

The look of absolute fear makes Wanda feel like she's been punched in the gut.

"What are you doing?" You urge her. "Let her go, she's a kid!"

"No, no, no," Wanda tells you softly, trying to show you that she'd never hurt you. "She's a threat—to me, to you, to us and our life."

"This isn't your life," America chokes before she looks at you. "This isn't your Wanda!"

"Be QUIET," Wanda snarls at America, tightening her grip that makes America choke.

"Wanda, stop it!" You yell at her, your eyes welling up with tears. "You're hurting people!"

The words make Wanda feel like she's crumbling. She drops America, letting the girl fall onto the floor on her back, hearing the wind knock out of the young girl's lungs.

Wanda looks at you; betrayal is written all over her face.

"Why are you treating me like I'm the villain?" Wanda whispers, her eyes becoming hot with tears. "You said you loved me. How can you love me and think I hurt people?"

You take a careful step towards her. "Look around, Wanda," you say softly.

"I would never—" But the words fall short on Wanda's lips. "I'm not a monster," is all she can say quietly as she drops to her knees.

"I know you're not," you say softly as you kneel in front of her and cup her face gently. "Just like I know you're not my Wanda."

Wanda immediately looks into your eyes, surprised.

You give her a wry smile. "You think I don't know my own wife? I've known since the first night."

"When—"

"When you asked if I loved you and I let you look into my mind," you give her a sad smile. "My Wanda never takes the opportunity. She is adamant about never looking into my mind and I never offer because of it. She prefers talking honestly, even if it's harder and painful."

Wanda's crying, tears welling and overflowing freely.

"Then why—" Wanda sobs.

"Wanda had her own theories about the multiverse. She was always worried it would happen, but I think every version of her should be loved."

You wiped her tears, but new ones would just fall. "You seemed sad," you tell her truthfully. "Even though I knew it wouldn't be forever by me, I wanted you to know you are loved too."

Wanda's face contorts in pain, lips trembling as she shakes her head.

"You're not a monster," you tell her again sternly. "You're a person who has done bad things out of grief but that doesn't always make you a bad person."

Wanda feels you kiss her cheek, and it's bitter.

"Do the right thing, Wanda," you encourage her. "It's time to go home."

"Is it home if you're not there?" Wanda tries to refute, and you give her a look.

"Am I dead?"

"...I don't know."

"Then look for me there," you drop your hands and move to hold Wanda's. "That variant of me might be waiting for you too."

It's silent for a moment, and America stands in the background, unsure, with Strange beside her.

"We'll be okay, Wanda," you tell her softly. "We are loved, and you will be too."

Wanda looks at you one last time before releasing the body she's held hostage, and America closes the portal to this universe.

The scene of the home she's grown used to fades into her lonely throne. It's like a hole has grown in her chest, connecting all the missing parts of her until she's empty.

America and Strange stand in the distance, unsure what their next move is if they have to continue fighting her.

"You need to leave," Wanda calmly states.

"What?"

"I opened The Darkhold, and I'm the one who needs to close it so it can never tempt anyone again," Wanda stares at her blackened fingertips. "You need to leave because this place is going to collapse."

As if on cue, the temple began shaking and crumbling. Debris fell from the ceiling, and Strange and America looked at Wanda, who didn't spare them a glance.

"I'm sorry, Wanda," Strange apologizes, and she knows it's for losing what was never hers in the beginning. With that, he takes America and flies off with her.

The temple crumbles, and Wanda doesn't move, determined to see its end. Even if you can't witness it, she wants to prove to you that she is a good person.

Wanda lets out a tiny smile, knowing that you probably believed she already followed through.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

-A Year and 6 months later-

Wanda sips her coffee, breathing in the fresh air. She looks down at her hair and finds it strange to see brown instead of auburn. It's been too long since she's seen the real color of her hair, and she wonders if it looks good.

The day is bright and sunny, and Wanda revels in how the sun feels on her skin.

"Would you like another one?"

Wanda looks at the waitress with a smile and shakes her head. She's here every day and usually has two cups leisurely.

But not today.

"No, thank you," Wanda answers politely and pulls out some cash, giving her usual waitress a generous tip.

The waitress thanks her and leaves. Wanda stays a second longer, waiting and taking in the view.

There's a loud car door slamming, and a woman gets out and moves to the sidewalk.

"For the last time," an exasperated voice groans. "It's over! How many times do I have to say it? Stop following me! You can’t just show up here because you know I walk through here every day."

"How can it be over? Everything has been going well for the last year! What changed?"

Wanda watches you groan.

"I don't know! I just don't see a future with you," you tap your foot impatiently. "Now stop following me around, I have shit to do and you're constantly making me late. Just—stop."

You turn to leave, but the woman grabs your arm, and Wanda stands up, pulling her hat closer to her head as she crosses the street.

Each step feels like she's getting closer to your silhouette, and the thin veil separating the two of you slowly disappears.

Wanda pushes and pushes against the veil until—

"You're hurting her."

The two of you look over to Wanda, and you stare at her for a long moment.

"Stay out of this," the woman glares at Wanda. "It's none of your business."

"It is my business," Wanda says simply. "I'm a good person."

"Are you trying to say I'm not?" The woman snaps.

"Yes, if you keep holding her arm hostage."

The woman immediately drops your arm, and you rub the spot she held, moving away.

"Leave," Wanda glares, and the woman is about to say something else, but the flash of Wanda's red eyes startles her, and she's quick to turn and walk back to her car.

The two of you watch the car drive away, and Wanda turns back to you, and you stare at her curiously.

"Have we met before?" You blink with a tilt of your head.

Wanda smiles. "Maybe in another universe."

You snort. "Smooth," you grin at her. "Thanks for that by the way."

You introduce yourself, and Wanda takes your hand.

Something electric passes through your arm, and you lick your lips.

"I'm Wanda."

You keep holding her hand, pensively looking at the woman before you.

"Can I treat you to a cookie ice cream sandwich as thanks? There's a great place nearby that does the best cookies," you gush.

Wanda nods but grins at you. "Sure, but I can make better ones."

"Really?" You look skeptical. "That's a bold statement."

"I've been told my cookies are the best in the world."

You laugh with a shake of your head as you let go of Wanda's hand and walk with her trailing beside you.

"I'll hold you to that."

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maixmoff #wanda x reader #dark!wanda x reader #dark!wanda #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #mm.mydarkfics #g.smut

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year

Note

Hi. Can I request something similar to the immortals outliving you? Could it be with the rest of the characters and us passing from other causes?

Their reactions to losing you

I wasnt sure if you wanted the immortals as well, so I added them in here as well!

This is all written in one go since tumblr doesnt let me save drafts for asks so I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes <\3 it's like 1am rn

CONTENT WARNINGS, idk what all needs a warning but I'd rather play it VERY safe:

M*rder

M*rder revenge, almost all of them touch on it tbh, love me the revenge trope

Snorts^

D3ath, obviously

Grief and the general hurt that comes with it

In EJs case he sees your death first hand

Does violently slamming yourself around count as SH /genq, because if so that's vagued in EJs part as well

Maskys handles a hit and run but its vague

Masky also hints to a smoking addiction

Nonspecific illness in hoodies part

Slenderman;

I remember that I mentioned this for Slendermans part, but I had an idea that he already accepted that fact that you wouldn't last forever

But I don't remember if I mentioned/vagued the idea of how he'd react to you're life being forcibly cut short

Accepting the fact you'll eventually pass away does nothing when he finds out someone else was responsible for your sudden end

All that comes out is a cold rage, something that the creature hasn't experienced in a long time

Writing this, it makes me remember that clip from the first episode of castlevania where dracula appears in the fire in episode one, after they kill his wife

But instead of carelessly showing himself to the world in a fit of rage, he fiercely protects everything that you touched; his forest, your home, your grave, ect

But despite the rage he doesnt immediately take down the person who caused this

Nonono, he does what he does best; he chips away at the person's mind through stalking and paranoia, essentially tormenting them for.. god knows how long until he gets bored

When he does decide hes through with them he'll make sure their... death... is drawn out

Basically don't meddle in the life of a forest monster; he may be a very... passionate.. lover

Splendorman;

Incredibly similar to the other version of this post where he naturally outlives you

But if you pass unnaturally, he'd be even more torn up about it

His time with you was already going to be short to begin with, but it was cut down even shorter

Doesnt matter the cause; murder, illness, accident, ect.. he'll be just as broken up

There's no real significant changes; he still mourns and honors you the same way for the most part

Laughing Jack;

It was an accident; one day you were there and the next, gone

He would stay in the house for a few days, not even knowing what was going on

At first he'd be worried and confused, before those feelings would deepen into something debilitating

He'd probably eventually find out through the news, after turning on the tv to pass the time and fill the silence

His worry immediately morphs into ice cold; he could feel his heart drop

He'd throw caution to the wind and try to track down whoever did he

He doesnt care if it was an accident, he wants justice and compensation

He follows a similar route as slenderman; the only thing is, is that jack lacks the patience to draw it out

After everything is said and done he's beside himself; avenging you didnt bring him back and it hardly made him feel better

He likely just. Goes back to what he was doing before he met you; drifting from house to house and causing havoc; but now he carries a melancholic aura

Eyeless Jack;

Another story of revenge, but with a twist so his part isnt too similar to LJ and slenders

So I'll be using the idea I should've given slenderman (but I'm too stubborn to rewrite his part)

Like Slenderman, Jack is seen as a cryptid and thus, there are naturally going to be people trying to hunt him down. Especially considering before he was a cursed monster he was a normal dude who got caught up in a whole... thing... and who's body was obviously never found as it still walks

Jack is.. semi used to that; but one day he completely catches him off guard, and what's worse is that you were there when it happened

It was a group, too, usually they come in two; but there were more that day. If it were less Jack could have easily put a stop to it all

It escalated

You had tried to step in to help him, to buy him some time so he could run; but it all went wrong

I don't like going into detail about this kind of thing, so this will be up to interpretation

The whole thing flings him into a rage and he makes quick work of the remaining hunters, but it's all too late

Even if he wasn't, how could he help? He cant just leave the woods and dump you at a hospital... but he doesnt have the supplies to help you then and there... and even if he did you were both much too far away from the cabin

It just leaves him helplessly trying to stop the bleeding

He hardly ever leaves the woods after that; not even to eat

He's resorted to.. rather violently subduing the monstrous side of him that craves flesh

There's broken furniture everywhere

He blames himself

He should have had you stay in the cabin

He should have told you to run

He should have told you to hide

He should've...

The worst thing is that he begins to believe that it was his fault; afterall he let you out of his sight when he began fighting. Even worse, and perhaps stupidly, he believed this wouldn't have happened if he never met you

Its

Rough

Masky;

He just sits there, quietly

Be it shock or something else he just sits there

But his mind is going a mile a minute to try to figure out what exactly happened to you

You were.. in a wreck, and the other person just. Fled.

As feral as I tend to write and interpret masky, he can be thorough when it comes to investigating

Though I'm torn in whether or not he'd actually be able to find the person; especially because I'm kinda. Dumb when it comes to crime stuff and I'm not about to do mental gymnastics on something I'm not confident in <\3

In terms of grief, he seems... lost...

I don't usually hc that Masky smokes; that's just a Tim thing

But I feel like the smoking would bleed into Masky and become a whole... issue.. whether or not Tim as his own person knows about you/was involved with you is up to interpretation; as I tend to write the proxies as a separate.. thing

Still trying to find the correct term

But yeah

Focusing back in on Masky, he's kinda just lost. Angry, definitely, but mostly just. Wandering through life

He doesn't want to forget you

Hoodie;

Similar to Masky he's quiet and lost

Similarly he would feel the urge to try to find out who took you away; but I feel we've had enough "S/o dies at the hands of someone else" for this post, so we'll do something else... and because I fear hoodies portion will be too similar to maskys

You got sick, to put it simply

It's.. odd..

He's well aware that you're deteriorating, and he's aware that time is running out

But he can't help but feel calm in your presence; its only when you're apart that he feels that dread, and its constant

Maybe it's the fact that when he's with you he can easily convince himself that, in that moment, you're alright

It hurts when it finally happens

Out of all the guys, he's probably the most normal(?) About the situation

He visits your grave, a lot of the time, leaves little gifts there

He doesn't talk much, but he probably talks to you

Likely keeps something on him to remember you, like a locket or something

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everything-fine-n-peachy · 4 months

Text

time capsule (l.mk)

pairings: mark lee x reader genre: fluff (and some angst) summary: overachiever mark lee falls for overthinker y/n. mark is smart but he is also very much naive. y/n is also smart but very much hostage to the voices in her head. they are also both 16. (a/n yes, i like to write mark in bus rides idk, it's a vibe)

Mark does not know what to call what you two share. He only knows that he likes the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his, the sound of your voice, and maybe the fact that you actually find his jokes funny.

You are his panic room. He likes to curl up in your embrace when the world gets too much. You are his solace. There is something about you that allows Mark to remember that he is a man and not a machine.

Your head rests on his shoulder as you both watch the sunset from the bus. The buildings blur and the trees and the sky all blend together like those spacetime warps they show in the movies. Mark wishes he could freeze this moment.

He knows that when the bus stops at your street, you will get down and summer will officially begin. He tries to focus on the faint sound of the radio instead of the dread that’s been building in his stomach for days. It’s his hands that move on their own finding yours.

You meet Mark’s gaze with a questioning look. He gives you that shy smile that you’ve grown to love. The golden light that filters through the windows makes the sight even more heartbreaking.

You know that once the bus stops on your street, Mark will wave good bye and summer will officially begin. His grip tightens on your hand. A gentle squeeze as if to remind you that you still have a couple of minutes left.

And then what? After this summer, the final year of high school would begin. Mark would take over as student council president and co-captain of the dance team. On top of that, he would also be expected to maintain perfect grades and get into a good university. You, on the other hand, were aiming for high honors and that evasive internship at one of the biggest companies in the city.

“What would we be if we weren’t like hamsters running endlessly on wheels?” Mark asked that afternoon as you strolled through the shops eating ice cream together after the last day of school.

The wind blew against your cheeks, the warm breeze reminding you of the oncoming heatwave. “I guess I’d be a painter,” you chuckled, “but I’m not any good at it.” “I’d be a pop star,” he replied with a straight face before giggling. You follow suit, unable to resist such infectious laughter.

You’re brought back to the present by a familiar blue house a few blocks away from your street. Mark finds himself unable to look away from you, transfixed by the remaining flecks of light that catch on your glasses.

He knows well enough that grief shouldn’t be stolen from the future. But could he really help himself? The pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations from this year alone was almost insurmountable. Had it not been for you, Mark felt like he would go insane.

You swear you feel Mark’s grip tighten just a tad more but when you look up at him his gaze is far away. Sometimes you aren’t sure if he’s even real to begin with like anytime you could wake up and Mark wouldn’t even know who you were. But you push those thoughts away. Slowly, you lean back into Mark taking in the subtle scent of laundry detergent on his shirt. You snuggle into his neck and close your eyes feeling content at least, for the time being.

Mark thinks you are the most adorable person in the world and for all the achievements he has to show, to him being trusted by someone like you was one of his favorites.

“We should catch a movie next week,” he blurts out. “I mean, if you want to, and if that’s okay,” he fumbles.

You study his face, keen on the blush that spreads on his cheeks. With a smile you respond, “I think next week’s good.”

The bus finally stops at your street and you collect your things as you turn to wave at Mark you discover that he’s stood up along with you. Puzzled, you shoot him a confused look.

“Isn’t your stop farther?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s fine,” he chuckles, getting off the bus with you.

The walk to your house is silent but not uncomfortable. You sneak tiny glances at Mark in an attempt to figure out why he decided to walk the rest of the way home.

No sooner do you reach your fence and turn to Mark, “So, thanks for today. I guess I’ll see you next week?”

Mark smiles shyly, stepping closer to you. He takes your hand in his before bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving a soft peck. He pulls you into a big hug before walking backwards, “See you next week.”

You’re a blushing mess as you slip past your fence waving at Mark. You aren’t sure what it is the two of you share but you’d do anything to see that shy smile again.

And so Mark walks the whole way with a spring in his step. There exists the feeling of unease bubbling beneath the surface. The promise of an earful from his dad the moment they find out about you or the very likely possibility that his friends will all have something to say about this whole ordeal.

But on this pleasant afternoon Mark chooses to be blissfully unaware. The kind of naivety reserved for 16-year-old, boys who were helplessly infatuated. Today, Mark Lee thinks he will smell the flowers on his journey home.

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superblysubpar · 1 year

Note

Im in the mood to feel the summer vibes. I want some sloppy smutty summer vibes with Steve. A handy on the carnival ferris wheel, still sticky sweet from your cotton candy? A steamed up car at the drive ins, making it work cramped up in the seat? Eating popsicles from the ice cream truck as summer sweat drips down your neck and Steve gets so turned on he can't help himself? Hooking up on the DL and you find yourself teasing at a backyard picnic full of friends? Caught in a warm summer rainstorm and peeling your wet clothes off of one another goes from giggles to groans real quick?

I dunno. Have at it. Do your worst. 🤷🏼‍♀️

the song: Tenderly by Nat & Alex Wolff

The cicada’s buzz loudly, mixing with croaks of frogs, the ground is littered with popcorn and forgotten cups. The film has faded to black, lightning bugs blinking for attention instead of the stars above as Steve runs his fingers through your hair where it fans across his chest. Your cheek squished into that soft spot you always squirm around to find, soft puffs of breath leave your parted lips, your bare legs tangled with his.

He lifts his head, the cars have all gone, the attendants have locked doors, turning lights off and pulling the rack down over the concession booth, paying no mind to the blanket on top of the hill since it’s not a car. You’re officially alone, still time left in the summer nights that seem to last longer and neither of you work tomorrow. Steve feels a little selfish for wanting to wake you, for wanting to spend as much time with you as possible - there’s always tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.

Steve twists one lock of your hair around his finger and moves his gaze back up to the stars, trying to remember the facts and theories you told him about last week. Your eyes lit up as you explained certain constellations and stories from the past that people believed to be true. You had stopped halfway through a sentence, hands in midair, eyes sparkling. Your fingers pressed to your lips as you shook your head, “I’m sorry, I’m talking a lot, I’ll-”

“I love you.” It had been a breath, a shot in the dark and his chest felt tighter than any of the other times he had said those words. For some reason he knew it was different this time, that it was real.

Then you smiled, crawled into his lap. Your nose brushed his as your arms fell around his shoulders as you whispered, “You love me, huh?”

He had gulped loudly, embarrassingly, hands squeezing at your waist as he leaned into you and nodded. Your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly and causing him to shiver. He sighed against your lips, pulling you closer to his chest as he hummed. Pretending to be fine that you didn’t say it back immediately, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal, pretending like he wasn’t finding it hard to breathe as he changed the subject. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, wanna tell me more about that Orion guy? What’s his deal again? Why’s he disappear for the summer?”

You giggled, warmer against his cheek than the summer air and yet he shivered again as you sighed in his arms and laughed out a quiet, “Shit.”

He blinked at you and your hands cupped his jaw, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks, “I love you so much Steve Harrington.”

So is it really wrong for him to want to wake you up? To want to kiss you like he had that night and maybe some more? Is it wrong to-

A cool gust of wind whips at the ends of the blanket, touseling his hair and yours. Your arm draped over his stomach squeezes, pulling yourself against his body, hand slipping under his shirt and searching for warmth.

Your head flips, resting a new cheek against his chest as you squint at him, lips twisting and voice groggy, “Good morning.”

Steve laughs, chest rumbling beneath you and your eyes open a little more, blinking away the heavy sleep as his fingers tuck hair behind your ear. His eyes are deep green and brown, moonlight reflected in them as he rubs his palm down your back and asks, “Good sleep?”

You scoot your body over him, legs falling between his as they bend and he pulls you tight against his chest. Your head glances over your shoulder and his thumb brushes over your pout as you groan, “I missed the whole movie?”

Thumb and forefinger holding your chin and jaw as he nods, lips fighting a smile, “Afraid so, think that was a new record for you.”

You moan, apologizing into his neck and he squeezes his arms around you and shrugs beneath you, “s’okay, wasn’t very good.”

Your lips kiss his jaw, just a quick press, but enough to have him swallow harshly, to squirm beneath you as you huff, “Wow, so I missed a bad movie and the opportunity to make out during it?”

You pull away, hands folding over his chest and grinning. He smirks, hands stilling on your back. Steve sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes, repeating his words dryly, “Afraid so.”

That’s how he ended up with you straddling him in the backseat of the maroon car. The windows fogged, condensation beating down them in rivulets that match the sweat glistening on your skin. You smell like peaches and cherry, he smells like mint and leather. Some slow song lazily crackling through the speakers that’s far too cheesy as Steve looks at you like that, like you’re the brightest star in the sky.

His fingers brush over a bruise on your neck that’s darkening, his other hand cupping your jaw and pressing his nose into your cheek. Lips are glossy and slick with each other, hair rumpled from fingers. Your hips roll, hands reaching down to lift his shirt and Steve gasps out against your skin, kissing your jaw, “Wait…”

Your hands pause and his head hits the seat behind him as he adjusts underneath you. Head ducking down so he can look into your eyes as he says, “Can we go a little slower?”

Taken aback by his words, your mouth parts, your hands falter further and you nod.

Steve’s hands cradle your jaw as he stares into your eyes, trying to memorize them, to memorize everything about you. Rough skin of calloused thumbs graze your cheeks, his breath is warm against your lips as he tilts his head. One hand slides along your jaw, tangling in your hair gently as he inhales briefly. Eyes glancing down at your lips before they close, soft touch of his mouth against yours.

They lock together like the easiest puzzle pieces, a simple and gentle glide. His nose squishes yours, hand caressing your jaw and the other in your hair tipping you back for him. Steve sighs into your mouth as you open for him, your stomach flipping like the first time he kissed you and like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do it again. Your hands fall to his neck, pulling each other closer like it was a plan you discussed beforehand.

It’s one of those movie kisses, the breath in and breath out happening together - in sync. Any thoughts being erased from your brain, the desperate need to never let each other go. It’s butterflies, it’s melting like ice cubes in lemonade on a June day. It’s sunrises and sunsets and stories that make your eyes light up. Steve breathes your name into your mouth, holding your jaw and sucking on your bottom lip as his eyelashes flutter when you say his right back. It’s all so sweet and slow, like honey and brown sugar melting together.

But when your fingers curl in his collar and you make that little noise, hips rolling against him and he moves his hands to your back, tongue licking over yours, warm summer things turn to hot and dirty quickly. Steve doesn’t wanna let you go, quick presses of his lips as you slide together, gasping into open mouths. Suddenly it’s desperate, it’s that drop on a rollercoaster in your stomach, Steve’s lips the popsicle and a cannonball in a pool after hours in the sun. His fingers grip at your hips, gliding you over his hard length in a filthy grind as your hands scratch at his scalp.

The breathy and sweet name on his lips is now a moan, a plea and you nod, pulling him back into a deeper kiss. Tongues swirling together, teeth nipping at lips and bodies pressing together like you want to be stuck for the rest of your lives - superglued together. A want turned into a need in your chest that begged to crack out and crawl into his.

Your breathing grows more shallow, your whine fills his ears. He watches you glance down to where your hips meet with your lip pulled between your teeth and your brows furrowed together. Steve grips your waist tightly, watching as you push against his shoulders and fight off an orgasm from just a little kissing, just the drag of his denim against you in the right spot. Your lip pops free, mouth falling open in a gasp of his name as he feels you soaking him. Fingers frantic on his belt, you murmur into his jaw, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Wanna go faster now, please?”

And how can he say no to that?

The cicada’s buzz louder as tender touches grow more impatient. The lightning bugs no longer steal his attention. Steve will take his time tomorrow, or maybe the next day, or the next.

He has all summer.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar steve spice

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mizusnose · 5 months

Text

Lay your hands on me

Part One

Mizu x Akemi

3.5k words

tags: Modern AU, Questioning Sexuality Akemi, Lesbian Mizu, Making Out, Smoking, Lesbian Porn, Sexual Tension, Mean Mizu, Hometown Trauma

Summary: Akemi experiences post-grad loneliness (and horniness) and starts questioning her sexuality. She goes to a local bar in her hometown to fix it. Mizu helps her out with her dilemma.

A/N: I just think it would be neat for Akemi to start questioning her sexuality while she’s back in her hometown. More specially her attraction towards hot butches 🥰

Post-grad life was treating Akemi pretty well. Granted, it had only been a week since she had graduated, the soft pane of her childhood window awash with snow and dirt from the wind. Her parents hadn’t turned her room into an office, workout room, or storage like most of her other friend’s parents had done. Instead, she got to look at all the k-pop posters she had hung up in her high school era. Splattered polaroids when that was a thing, marked by pink sparkly sharpie and stickers too cute and too childish for her now. The whisper of her childhood frozen and unfettered by time.

She’d fall asleep amongst the mountains of unpacked clothes and wake well into the day, drowsy and sticky from the space heater. Deciding to relax and rot only lasted a few days before her life started picking back up without her.

She had to get paperwork done for her job that would start at the tail end of January. Some local newspaper position that sounded exactly right on paper in every way. She didn’t want to talk about how long she took to accept her offer when it popped up in her email five whole days after graduation.

Her parents would scold her for taking showers daily, especially if she wasn’t going anywhere so she was left to rot in her pajamas bottoms since she got back home. The only real thing changing was her shirts and whether or not she decided to wear a bra that day—which was usually a no go.

She wondered if this is what post-grad life was really supposed to be. Late mornings and reheated coffee and pajama bottoms. Akemi didn’t want to think about how others her age were probably out with their friends, family, or significant others for the holiday break. All of her friends were still at university or had moved away. While her hometown friends were moms, engaged, or no longer in contact.

The glow-in-the-dark stars that shone a deep muted green for minutes after she turned off her light was her only company on cold nights. Her longtime business major boyfriend Taigen had broken up with her before he graduated in the spring six months ago. Something about moving to New York and making it big. Not like he was gonna be interning under his fathers company that already made millions.

Although, Akemi supposed she wasn’t too different from Taigen in that respect. Both her parents were realtors that ruled their hometown. It’s what paid Akemi’s way through undergrad. It’s what she was expecting to pay for her masters.

After all, she wasn’t staying here for long. The plan was always a gap year to start saving before going out into the world and conquering it, or whatever it was that was advertised most these days. This would be temporary.

But then again, a degree in English was never really a great option was it? Or at least, that’s what her parents would say when they thought she wasn’t around. To each other in the pantry that meets the lip of the kitchen. Or at their hosted neighborhood dinner parties, whispering and shaking their heads with other parents. It wasn’t a lifestyle choice they were proud of.

The fact that she had hauled all of her stuff from college back home was something that only proved their point further. Akemi felt like a child who wasn’t stopped when her imagination got too big, and now she was dealing with the consequences.

Feeling lonely and horny on top of it all felt like the icing on top. Her collection of dildos and vibrators tucked away at the bottom of her underwear drawer seemed crude and way too loud in her parents house. She would watch porn and work too long and too hard to orgasm. Taigen always used to marvel at how wet she would get. Now though, Akemi found herself reaching for lube every time she wanted to masturbate. It felt like an important part of her unraveling. A key turning point.

The first time that Akemi got off to lesbian porn, she felt guilt in a way. She’d watched it before back in the beginning parts of college when everyone was experimenting. Akemi herself had kissed a girl at her first house party at eighteen years old. However, this time felt different. She barely got halfway through the cringey teacher and student plot before Akemi had to shove her pajamas down and rub one off mean and messy. No lube required.

The second time it happened, Akemi used a dildo and was more prepared for the hunger that bloomed inside her gut. It was like a forest fire the way the desire burned into her. A kick to her gut and a shove to her clit and she was gone.

She didn’t understand. Taigen had always fucked her the way she wanted—slow and soft and with whispers and cuddles afterwards. It was fine. It was sex.

This was something entirely different. One that Akemi felt was important to note. She’d never fucked a girl. Never been fucked by one either. Her very limited experience of women started and ended with the porn she was starting to rely on to get off.

She texted her friends about it. Got a flurry of responses that ended up with Akemi self-reflecting and asking herself what she wanted.

It wasn’t an easy decision. She told her girlfriends as much. They suggested a night on the town, and Akemi figured why not? It had been ages since she had gone out. Been even longer since she had gone out in her hometown.

So that’s how she finds herself in a bar that doubles as a sports spot during the day. Billiard tables line the entryway and take up most of the place where groups of men and women alike play. It’s a Saturday night and a bit busy for a small town. The bartop is a long expanse of wood that juts out at a corner and extends to the other end of the room in an L shape. It’s a small place. One room with a connected outside patio with stringed lights.

The security guard has to double check her ID and even after that he eyes her closely as she enters. Akemi feels overdressed the second she gets in. Mostly everyone is wearing jeans. Akemi spots a tank top here and there, but flannels and long sleeves with a modest crop and cut are the majority. Every guy is a copy and paste of rough jackets and some snapbacks worse for wear.

She sets her jacket on a rack and wraps her arms around herself. The velvet of her shirt barely extends past her shoulders before it connects to lacy long sleeves that hide nothing. Her matching butterfly tattoos hover above her collarbones. The deep V-cut of the shirt leaves little to imagination, and the cropped cut accentuates her waist. The mini skirt and tights are just as out of place. Akemi feels herself turn hot and wonders if this is really the place she should’ve gone to.

But before she can second-guess herself, she swallows hard and marches to the bartop to order herself a drink. She’s already slightly tipsy from the wine she had with her dinner beforehand. Yet the liquid courage disperses once Akemi reaches the mess of bodies blocking the bartop. She squishes and politely tries to wiggle her way through but is met with less than friendly looks.

Just as she’s started to give up, a strong shoulder brushes up against her and nearly shoves her out of the way completely. Akemi feels the wine as she stumbles. Her face feels hot when she turns to see who it is, and feels it burn hotter when she realizes.

It’s a woman. Dressed in dark wash jeans and doc martens. She’s also wearing a long sleeve shirt. The waffle-knitted thermal pulls tight at her shoulders and back and neck. Her legs go on forever and Akemi watches allured as the woman moves with ease through the crowded bartop. Her profile is sharp and angular. The jut of her jaw, the peak of her cheekbones, the point of her chin. Her nose and soft curve of her forehead are the only distinguishing features that scream woman. Otherwise, the undercut and pulled back hair would’ve thrown Akemi off completely.

She watches as the woman gestures to order. Her two fingers long and pink from the cold drink in her hand. It’s half empty in her hold and Akemi wants.

It sits with her, then, how familiar the woman looks. It comes in flashes suddenly, the last couple of pornos she’s searched for and watched. Two women, bodies writhing, hot and panting. But beneath that, the difference between a taller, leaner and mean-looking woman and a smaller, bustier, whinier one. The crux of Akemi’s desire all along.

Akemi recalls the title of that first porn video she’d gotten off on. Hot Butch Professor Teaches Student A Lesson.

The woman waits for her drink and gets what she’s there for. As she leaves, Akemi feels that familiar punched-out feeling. The start of arousal. A spark catching.

She tracks the woman to the edge of the room. A billiard table observing the games going on. She’s as tall as the other men and her rounded tinted glasses reflect the low hanging lights. Akemi forces herself to look away. Her phone is dug out of her purse and she smashes a question into the group chat.

Guys, what’s a butch?

Her chat explodes instantly. Some gifs of eggplants, a picture of the blonde girl from atlantis, and one actual answer in a paragraph-length text.

She skims, looks at the woman, skims again, and nods, determined.

After managing to force herself through the crowd in a similar fashion to the woman, she gets a drink. Something fizzy and sweet. There’s a cherry floating on top.

Akemi wonders how this works. If there’s a method to flirting with other women. She shakes her head at that, there shouldn’t be. It’s attraction. Akemi knows attraction. Has been the center of it many times. So, with her resolve, she struts to the woman.

The height difference is apparent when Akemi meets the woman’s gaze. She’s wearing combat boots that have at least an inch on her usual height, yet she’s still looking up to grin at the woman.

“Hi.” Akemi says. She leans against the wall, tilting her head and showing off the stretch of skin on her neck.

“Hm.” The woman says. She regards Akemi carefully. Her eyes flicker to her matching butterfly tattoos. The action fizzles inside Akemi’s belly like the drink in her hand, “You are?” An eyebrow raises, and oh she’s mean, isn’t she?

“Akemi. And you are..?”

The woman meets her eyes again. This time over the tint of her glasses and Akemi is caught. Feels like a small creature fenced in by a predator. Like a fawn in a snare, bloody and vulnerable and raw.

“Mizu.” Her voice is deep and raspy. Akemi shudders at the sound. Mizu must notice because she takes a sip of her drink and works an ice cube into her mouth. It crushes against her canines. Akemi watches mesmerized, “You new to town?”

“Hah. No, back for the holidays.” Akemi lies. She figures it’s easier to have an escape, “That easy to tell?” Akemi jokes, getting closer and working with what Mizu seems to be giving.

“A bit.” Mizu drags her eyes down Akemi’s body as an answer. Akemi thinks she might combust.

“Yeah? How so?”

Mizu flicks her eyes around the bar and grins. She bends down to get to Akemi’s level. There’s a hand at her waist.

“Most girls wait until I’m tipsier to start flirting.” Akemi’s hip is gripped tightly by Mizu’s warm firm palm, “I can be mean.”

As quickly as Mizu is there she’s gone in the next instant. The lip of her cup against her mouth. Standing back up like nothing happened. Her hand is still on Akemi’s waist though. A warm firm heat.

“I’m eager.” Akemi replies. Makes her eyes wider and bites into her lip.

Mizu frowns then. Takes another sip of her drink and sets it on a nearby stool, “No. You’re confused.”

The hand disappears then. The cold shocks Akemi as she makes an aborted sound. A start to a sentence.

“But, I-“

“I don’t fuck straight girls.” Mizu states simply. She’s turned back to the room now, disinterested. No longer facing Akemi, the illusion of privacy is lost. The sounds of billiard games come back and Akemi startles.

“I’m not…not—“ not straight. Was that right? It didn’t feel completely right. Not completely wrong either. Akemi didn’t know exactly. Wasn’t meant to be thinking about it right now. She was here for an answer to a question, “I want to.” Akemi feels like it’s an okay response to her swirling thoughts.

Mizu doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look at her. Rather, she chugs the rest of her drink and walks back to the bartop. Akemi feels the air brush by her and she stews in annoyance at the outcome. Doesn’t know why when she’s the one who is apparently walking around with a giant neon sign that says straight girl.

She finishes the rest of her fizzy sweet drink and eats the cherry. It tastes like her childhood and she chuckles at the irony. Wonders what young Akemi would think about her right now. Trying to get some in her hometown because she’s what? lonely? As if no one else in the existence of the world hadn’t been lonely.

She chats up some guys that buy her drinks for the rest of the night. It’s familiar and all the tricks work on them easily. There’s no fight about it. No pushing for more. No pulling for dominance. Cat and mouse be damned. Akemi convinces herself she likes it.

Mizu doesn’t linger inside long and soon enough she’s out of Akemi’s sight. Akemi tells herself she doesn’t care.

A couple drinks turn into more and suddenly Akemi’s drunk. It dawns on her that she’s had more than she thought when the guy she’s talking to grabs her waist as she stumbles. The touch is in the same place Mizu placed her hand earlier. It doesn’t feel nearly as intense.

Akemi promises she’s fine to walk when she leaves the bar with her purse and phone in hand. The December cold shocks some alcohol out of her, and makes her realize she’s left her coat inside.

“Urgh.” She’s turning around to head back inside when she notices a figure at the edge of the building. Plumes of smoke flow out of Mizu’s mouth and Akemi can smell the tabaco from where she stands.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or the cold realization that Mizu may have been right that Akemi stumbles over. A fight is what she wants, but what she gets is another pretty cocked eyebrow and lips that must taste like cigarette smoke.

“You smoke?”

Mizu seems surprised by her confidence but quickly recovers.

“Yes. Need a light?”

Akemi is upset for some reason. There’s been no success tonight and she’s determined to make it Mizu’s problem.

“I don’t smoke. Too bitter.”

“I have a vape too.” Mizu suggests, scooting over for Akemi to lean next to her, “‘ts sweeter.”

Akemi throws a glare at Mizu. She’s still beautiful under the combined glow of a nearby street lamp and the reflecting christmas lights that hang off the roof above them. The falling snow only makes Akemi’s heart thunder.

“Don’t do that either.” Akemi mumbles, pouts despite being the one who denied it, “My ex used to be addicted. I hate the smell.”

“Huh.” Mizu says inhaling another pull before exhaling away from Akemi. It’s gentle, the way she holds concern for Akemi, “Ex-boyfriend?”

“Ugh not this again.”

Mizu casts her a glance. A faraway knowing look that makes Akemi feel so young. Almost like she’s a kid again. Not like she’s just graduated. She pouts harder.

“I’m interested. I want to…I want to try it.” Akemi says. She’s shy now after all her big emotions have worn themselves out with the stretch of silence on Mizu’s end, “And you’re hot.”

Mizu chuckles, takes another drag and then flicks her cigarette into the snow. Turns towards Akemi and pushes into her space. There’s the touch on Akemi’s waist again. It feels colder than before. Akemi groans.

“You don’t know what you want.” Mizu says. Her voice has dropped and become deeper. She’s frowning down at Akemi. A wolf under the full moon. Akemi is trapped and her breath hitches. Her thighs squeeze together, “Don’t even know the first thing about being with a woman.”

“I-I..I do!” Akemi stutters. Determined to win this game she’s started.

“Oh yeah?” Mizu asks, pushing pushing pushing.

“Yeah..” Akemi didn’t notice earlier that Mizu had freckles. A smattering of them on the bridge of her nose and beauty marks on her chin, her cheekbone, the edge of her lips, “We make out first.”

Mizu smirks, gives Akemi room to wrap her arms around Mizu’s neck.

“Okay.”

It’s a clear go ahead and Akemi is pressing her lips to Mizu’s. There’s no finesse. Two lips touching. Akemi pulls away and is flushed from her own actions. She avoids Mizu’s eyes and looks at the expanse of forest that engulfs their tiny town instead.

Mizu is still close, her nose brushing Akemi’s own. Her breath is hot on Akemi’s face. She smells like cigarettes and suddenly Akemi doesn’t mind it at all.

“Cute. Now let me show you how. Properly.”

Mizu tilts Akemi’s chin up. They’re looking at one another now. The tinted glasses now gone from Mizu’s face. Akemi wants.

“Understood?” Mizu asks. Her hand has slipped to the back of Akemi’s back, brushing her tattooed collarbone with the movement. Her other hand has clamped down on the jut of exposed skin and Akemi whimpers.

“U-understood.”

And then Mizu is kissing her. It’s nothing like Akemi’s gentle kiss. This kiss is wet and hot. A pressing smear of heat against Akemi’s mouth. Her mouth is open and suddenly Mizu’s tongue is there licking and exploring. Mizu’s hand presses into Akemi’s hip and slips under the velvet and Akemi shakes despite herself. Pulls away to gasp at the cold press of Mizu’s palm against her ribs.

Mizu laughs, kissing her jaw and ear and chin as Akemi huffs out little whines.

“Pathetic. Can’t keep up at all.” Mizu growls. She grips the back of Akemi’s neck. Hard, “Not done. Take it.”

Mizu kisses her like they’re going to fuck.

Akemi realizes this when Mizu’s hand leaves the sensitive skin of her ribs and drifts under her skirt. Up the tights on her thigh and underneath the line of her ass. Her fingertips find her underwear and the wet of her cunt. It’s brief and gone before it’s even fully there, but Akemi whimpers and accidentally bites down on Mizu’s lip at the feeling.

“Hah.” Akemi’s lips feel puffy and swollen when they part. The sound alone makes Akemi wetter, pushing her thighs together tighter for friction, “Please..” She reaches up for more, and Mizu stands up fully then. The distance too great for Akemi to close by herself.

“No.” Mizu says. Her pupils are blown and the blue that Akemi was mesmerized with is now harder to make out.

Akemi shivers at Mizu’s blatant staring and is surprised to find Mizu’s own breathing is staggered. Clearly affected after all.

“You’re cold.” Mizu steps away then, hands coming undone around her. Akemi feels like a puppet with its strings cut, boneless against the wall. She shivers hard, proving Mizu’s point, “Here.”

Akemi’s bundled up in Mizu’s sweater when Mizu invites her over. It’s a clear indication of more and Akemi’s chest hammers with the implication. She nods shyly, shoving her hands into Mizu’s jacket pockets. Is surprised to be met with gum wrappers, coffee straws, and sticky notes.

“No sex tonight. You’re drunk. I have roommates.” Mizu explains just as Akemi is trying to discretely update the group chat with the recent events, “There aren’t any buses running now and I live nearby so..”

“But! you kissed me!” Akemi whines. Ah, she can hear the way the alcohol has made her voice more pitchy. She nearly misses the down step of the curb but Mizu catches her, hand strong around her waist, “Okay, fine. But, can we make out some more?”

Mizu nods sagely. She leads Akemi towards the sidewalk. The falling snow lands on her head and shoulders and Akemi wants to leave marks there if she’s allowed. Akemi distantly thinks that Mizu would be into that, being in charge.

I’ll find out tomorrow morning.. Akemi thinks, delighted at the loophole she’s found. She presses into Mizu’s side as they walk back together.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #bes mizu #mizu x akemi #akemi blue eye samurai #fanfic #modern au #lesbian mizu

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izvmimi · 10 months

Text

cw: angst. unrequited love. love triangle.

You hear her before you see her. Not because her footsteps are loud - in fact she moves light as a feather, as though she's learned to use her Quirk to make herself graceful, quiet - but because you've been hyperaware of her forever it seems, always watching her, always watching her watch him.

A gentle breeze picks up from your high place; you're standing alone on the pier where the water meets the coast. The beach is not that well traveled, but it's likely just because it's sunset. You turn with the breeze, and watch the salty wind sweep her warm chestnut-toned hair. She looks almost surprised as you turn to look at her, as though she didn't actually expect you to be there, even though you called her out to come see you. Then she smiles, and her smile is genuine and you wish yours could be the same.

"___, did you wait long?" she asks. Her voice is as saccharine as her words. You shake your head, trying to keep your heart from racing. You wonder she also makes Izuku's heart race suddenly - similarly, but for a different reason. Perhaps it would have been nicer if she'd come to meet him here, instead of you. You would have liked that.

Perhaps in another life.

"Is everything okay?"

You nod, but you haven't figured out how to use your voice yet. Words stick in your throat, and she approaches you warily, her shoulder brushing against yours as she assumes the same position you are, leaning against the railing looking out against the sea. She's warm whereas you probably are cold as ice.

You clear your throat.

"Thank you for coming," you say, in a voice small enough to be a whisper. Ochaco doesn't turn but she nods as well. She knows whatever you have to say to her is serious, or at least as serious as rivals in love can be. But you're adults now, and even if you haven't grown out of your crushes, you know better than to fight over men. In fact, that's why you're here today, to yield.

"Of course," she answers.

You rub your nose reflexively, then clear your throat again. Maybe you're developing a cold, if the idea of doing this isn't what makes you feel sick.

"How was your day?" you ask.

You should really be cutting to the chase. Ochaco turns and gives you a sympathetic look.

"Good. You saw that we helped out with the library that reopened down in ____."

'We' is her and Shoto and Iida and Izuku.

You nod. You saw all the pictures, saw how Izuku followed her like a loving, loyal shadow, saw how they looked good together, like they were already a couple, like they already belonged.

"Did you have a good day?" she asks politely. As she speaks, she aims to tuck her hair behind her ear, the action makes the sleeve of her cardigan brush against your shoulder. You would recoil from the touch but you're already backing down in other ways, so why bother here?

"Great."

As good as it can be when you've decided to give up on love.

Something about that thought makes you laugh and a giggle escapes. Ochaco gives you a look that asks what's so funny and you clear your throat. It's time to talk.

"I know we haven't been the best of friends all this time," you admit. Ochaco pauses, then nods slowly, still unsure of your intentions. You don't blame her.

In a small voice, she replies, "I get why."

You snort again and she smiles too, and you wish she wouldn't smile too but you're both laughing now and with one hand you rub your face and laugh even louder, and suddenly you're crying.

Crying, real tears streaming down your cheeks, and Ochaco is alarmed, and her sweet eyes run over yours and her kind voice asks you if you're okay, and her gentle hand is on your shoulder and you want to swat her away but you try to keep it together, rubbing the stubborn wetness from your eyes.

"I don't deserve your kindness, Uraraka."

Her hand stills and lightens, but doesn't let go.

"I'm not that kind," she whispers. You laugh and shrug her off finally.

"I don't want to fight with you today, I just..." you sigh, the words catching in your throat. Here you are, crying over a boy. One you couldn't admit to yourself for the longest time that you wanted, one that won you over so easily despite your best attempts, and the one who won't choose you, but rather the picture of the innocent feminine, the ideal female Hero, Japan's Sweetheart. And despite this, you can't even win gracefully, rather you are here crying and somehow still losing.

Aren't you something?

You sink and Ochaco sinks with you. You don't say another word for a few moments, long enough that the wind picks up and howls your defeat.

"I'm sorry."

She knows what you called her here for, and you both know what will happen when you part ways here. You'll cut ties with Izuku and he'll pursue her the way he has always wanted to.

She has nothing to be sorry for, and you have nothing to answer, because it's not okay.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader x ochaco #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: izuku #mimi’s notes

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

Meet Me In The Hallway, Chapter Four:

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (lots of sexual pining but nothing explicit in this chapter, weed consumption, talks of past addiction, one mention of frankie’s past as a government paid pew-pewer, 1 asshole male interaction, alcohol consumption, dick talk, foul language)

wc: 4.4k

series masterlist | frankie masterlist

It had been three days since the bathroom incident. Three days of the two of them acting like nothing ever happened. Three days of absolute torture.

Dylan couldn’t sleep, not with the memory of his mouth on hers playing over and over in her mind, not with the way she swore she could still feel his fingers curling into her, the mere imagining bringing her close to the edge but it was never enough to finish the job. Nothing was, in fact. Not her hand, not the toy in her nightstand, nothing. Nothing but him would suffice from now on, but she refused to be the first one to break, not when he seemed to be doing fine without her.

Needing relief, Dylan grabbed a joint she kept hidden away in her nightstand, her eyes narrowing at the bullet vibrator that couldn’t manage to do the job as well as her roommate across the hall. With a mildly forceful slam, she closed the drawer and sighed as she slipped her slippers on.

She crept through the hall, twirling the joint in her hand as she walked, but right as she passed the living room to slide open the patio door, the sound of a little girl’s giggles made her freeze in place. Turning around, she spotted Frankie and Rina in the kitchen, a bowl of ice cream beside the five year old as she sat on the kitchen island.

“Can we have a little more?” she asked, lacing her tone with sweetness just to assure she got her way.

“I don’t know, you’ve already—“ Frankie spotted Dylan mid-sentence, his eyes lingered in visible reverence that made her golden skin flush. Frankie seemingly realized himself, his eyes flickering to the sundae he had finished with his daughter's help. “We’re, uh, having ice cream, you want some?”

“Definitely in a little,” you subtly held up the joint in your hand, causing his brows to raise and his head to nod in understanding. “Ri, make sure your dad saves me some.”

“Okay, but hurry, daddy’s gonna eat it all if you take too long,” she replied, earning an eye roll from her father before he scooped a bit of whipped cream from the bowl and dotted it on her nose.

“I promise I’ll save you some,” he offered, looking back to Dylan with the kind of smile that reminded her why she needed the help of weed to relax in the first place. It seemed Frankie was hell bent on winding her up to the point of madness. With a nod, she turned around and slid the patio door open before walking out to the furthest corner of the yard to do her smoking.

By the time she entered the house again, she was already in the clouds, a warm, happy buzz fixing a permanent smile onto her face as she found her way into the now-empty kitchen. Dead set on getting the ice cream she was promised, she opened the freezer door and found the pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

“Hey,” Frankie appeared out of nowhere as she closed the door, making her jump. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you’re good,” she sighed out the remainder of her fright, resting her hand over her heart as she walked the pint over to the island and set it down before reaching in the utensil drawer to fish out a spoon. “Rina crash already?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling up a seat at the island and resting his elbows on the countertop. “So…we haven’t gotten the chance to talk about what happened yet.”

“No, we haven’t,” she agreed as she leaned forward onto the island and stuck her spoon in the pint to pick up some of the strawberry ice cream. “Was starting to think it was a hallucination.”

“No, it was real,” he smirked at the memory. “I just…I guess I’ve been a little nervous to say anything. Didn’t…didn’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Frankie,” she replied, her voice thick with desire. Her eyes fell to his lips, the weed only making her want him more as she watched his tongue swipe over the plumpness of his bottom lip.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he confessed in a whisper, forcing her eyes to meet his again. She stuck her spoon in her mouth upside down, her eyes remaining locked with his as she slowly sucked it clean, eliciting a deep but soft groan from him. “Have you…been thinking about me?”

“All the time,” she whispered. Frankie swallowed thickly before standing up. He kept his eyes on hers as he rounded the corners of the island until he was turning her to back her against the edge of the countertop. She placed her spoon in the pint and focused her full attention on him, resting one hand on his face with the other laid over his heartbeat. “You finally gonna kiss me, Frankie?”

He nodded, a smile flickering on his lips as his eyes fell to hers. Leaning in slow enough to make her whine, he was just about to crash their lips together when the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs pulled them apart. Frankie turned around, pretending to be making himself a glass of tea while Dylan returned to her ice cream. Will rounded the corner, shirtless and rubbing his stomach, his eyes hardly open.

“What are you two doing awake? It’s what, three a.m.?”

“It’s eleven, man. You just go to bed at eight like an old man,” Frankie replied.

“Which one of you smells like weed?” Will asked next as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a glass before going to the fridge and filling it with water.

“Me,” Frankie replied, taking the heat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be quitting that shit? You have your drug testing for your new job coming up in like two weeks,” he scolded, making Dylan’s stomach churn with guilt.

“Yeah, I know. Last time,” Frankie grumbled, his back still turned as he set the kettle in the stove before turning it on.

“I’ve heard that before,” Will chided with an eye roll. “Just…be responsible, man. For Rina.”

“I know, Will,” he snapped, turning to look at his friend with a stern face. “Go back to bed.”

“Alright,” he sighed, glancing over at Dylan. “Night, Dyl.”

“Night,” she managed, watching him as he walked away before bringing her eyes back to Frankie. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Rather have him bitch at me than you,” he returned from over his shoulder as he watched the kettle heat.

“Well, I wouldn’t.” Dylan placed the lid on the pint of ice cream before putting it back inside the freezer. Frankie remained silent as Dylan walked her spoon over to the sink and washed it. “You didn’t tell me you got a job.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Got the call last week. S’why I haven’t joined you outside in a while. Gotta pass the entry drug test.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re getting back to flying. What’s, uh, your schedule going to be like?” she asked as she dried her hands. Frankie turned to look at her, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned his hip against the counter.

“Busy. Worryingly busy, especially because of Rina,” he sighed. “And…just…I won’t be here very much, you know.”

“This your way of telling me something?”

“Just, you know, I’m not gonna be here a ton,” he replied, his eyes nervous as he searched hers. “I get it if you want to find someone who’s around instead.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked, her brows lacing together.

“Not really, but—“

“Then why say it?” Frankie shook his head and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Just want you to have what you deserve.”

“What if I think you’re what I deserve?” she asked, stumping him again. “Because I do. I think you’re what I deserve. What I want.”

“Even if you only get to see me once a week?” Dylan swallowed the longing she felt at the mere thought of him being away from her before answering.

“Yeah.”

Frankie chuckled and shook his head before turning back to the kettle, catching it just before it began to whistle and lifting it off the heat.

“We’ll see,” he muttered. “One day at a time.”

“Yeah.” She walked up behind him and rubbed his shoulder. “One day at a time. Stop making me worry over shit I don’t need to worry about yet. We haven’t even kissed since—“

Frankie surprised her with his lips against hers, his hands strong as they held her waist tightly and carefully, like she was his most prized possession. Pulling away breathless, Frankie leaned his forehead against hers and panted.

“Was that okay?” he asked.

“More than,” she replied. “You…want to come to my room?”

He exhaled as if he was in pain before shaking his head against hers.

“I want to take you out first,” he whispered.

“I don’t care about all that—“

“I do,” he interrupted. “I care about it. About you.”

Dylan hadn’t ever been with a man so concerned with giving her what she deserved, she very clearly didn’t know how to handle it.

“Okay,” she breathed out a chuckle. “Well, I’m free whenever.”

“Gotta find a babysitter for Rina first, but maybe this weekend?” He pulled away, his thumb stroking over her hip as he held it. “I’ll be sure to avoid The Cantina.”

“That would be appreciated,” she giggled, looking down at his hands as she peeled them off her hips and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Don't make me wait too long, Morales. It’s torture watching you walk around knowing what these hands are capable of.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “And just so you know, it physically pains me to keep my hands off of you.”

“Well, whenever you’re ready to put them on me, you can,” she purred and he groaned.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

“That’s the goal.”

Morning arrived and Dylan granted herself a day off to recover from her night of restless sleep, her late night talk with Frankie doing little to soothe her yearning. In fact, she wanted him even more now that she knew their time together would be drastically cut once he started work at the airline. But, like the gentleman he was, she had to wait for him to wine and dine her before she got another taste of him—but that didn’t mean she had to play fair in the meantime.

Getting up, Dylan walked over to her vanity and quickly styled her hair in messy, honey-blonde waves before doing her makeup, nothing intense but more than she ever typically wore around the house.

It was September now, but in Tampa, that hardly meant anything. It was still 90 degrees outside and sunny, which meant she could throw on her favorite bikini, a white tank top and denim shorts on to cover it, and head out to the beach for some sun.

Walking out into the hall, the house was already busy and full of life. Santi and Imelda were in the kitchen cooking breakfast and cleaning up simultaneously while Benny and Lennon remained curled up on the sectional watching some reality television show Lennon no-doubt chose on her own.

“Hey,” Dylan greeted Imelda with a smile as she entered the kitchen to pour herself some water.

“Bacon-egg burritos are coming up soon if you wanna wait for ‘em,” she announced in a sing-song tone. “I make the best breakfast burritos.”

“She does!” Benny agreed from the sofa.

“Going anywhere today?” Santi asked as he scrubbed away at the island counter.

“Was gonna go to the beach,” she answered between sips of her cold water. “You guys are welcome to come—“

“Fuck yeah,” Benny sprang up from the sofa with a boyish grin.

“Babe,” Lennon whined at his enthusiasm disrupting her comfortable position.

“You in bebé?” Santi asked Imelda and earned an eager nod. “We’re all in. Frankie and Will are outback waiting for Cassandra and Rina to get back from the grocery store, I’ll go—“

“No—“ Dylan interrupted him quickly, earning an eyebrow raise. “You’re cleaning. I’ll go ask.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded skeptically. Dylan didn’t stay around to hear his teasing, her feet practically gliding over the tile to the patio door. “Give Frankie’s ass a kiss for me since you’re already—”

She cut him off with the closing of the patio door.

As she stepped out into the backyard, she spotted Will mowing the grass while Frankie trimmed the weeds around the fence with a weed-whacker. His back was sweaty, his gray t-shirt soaked along his spine. To make matters worse, the hat he nearly always kept on was now off, his chocolate waves also soaked with sweat from the sun.

She attempted to call out his name, but the loud buzz of both machines drowned her voice out, leaving her standing on the patio with her hands on her hips. Eventually, Frankie shut off the weed-whacker and turned to walk to the patio, finally noticing Dylan standing there with a tilted head and a smirk.

“Finally, you notice I’m here!” she called over the still-whirring buzz of the lawn mower. Frankie smiled to himself as he walked over to the patio to grab a half-drank bottle of water sitting on the table.

“You look good,” he commented with a smirk as his eyes raked over her form. “Going somewhere?”

“The beach,” she replied, smiling hopefully. “Everyone inside is going too. Came to ask if you guys wanted to join.”

“Yeah, uh—“ Frankie turned to Will and whistled loud enough to earn his attention. Will turned the mower off and wiped his face with his t-shirt before walking over. “Guess everyone’s going to the beach. You and Cass wanna join?”

“Wish we could but we’re going to lunch with her parents, but you all go get drunk for me,” he replied before going into the house, leaving Frankie and Dylan alone again.

“This some sort of torture thing?” he asked, pulling up a seat at the table. Dylan joined him, sitting in the chair across from him.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she shrugged and batted her eyes innocently.

“Oh? You have no idea that me having to watch you walk around in a bikini all day is actual torture?” he asked, leaning his elbows onto the table as he gave her a grin.

“Nope. Just a bikini…a tiny, string bikini,” she purred, sliding her fingertip beneath the string over her collarbone supporting her bikini top. Frankie shook his head at her and licked his lips.

“Not fair,” he grumbled as he sat back in his chair. “Should torture you by not going.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be just fine without you there,” she retorted, attempting to sound nonchalant. Frankie only half-chuckled before standing up. “W-where are you going?”

“To change,” he replied, as if it was obvious. “Not going to risk you hitting it off with some lifeguard before I get to take you out on a real date.”

“Yeah, yeah. So far all you’re all talk, no action,” she teased, catching him as he reached for the patio door.

“Guess we’ll see,” he winked.

Dylan bit her lip as she watched him disappear into the house, her smile reaching her eyes as she sat there smitten as she ever was. Whatever this game they were playing was, she liked it. It was fun and exciting and so fucking torturous.

Frankie was sweating as he sat beneath the shade of the pop up tent Santi brought along to the beach and it had nothing to do with the 90 degree weather. He sat on a beach chair watching Dylan play in the sand with Rina, helping her learn how to play horseshoes. He tried playing too, just ten or so minutes ago, but physically couldn’t take being so close to her when all she had on was a tiny, barely fucking there white bikini on, her golden skin glowing in contrast to the fabric and blue sea behind her.

And he wasn’t the only one staring.

Frankie watched from the comfort of his isolation as an obvious gym rat walked across the beach from where his own party was set up to come say hello to Dylan. She seemed to be nervous over the interaction, keeping her eyes on the sand or on Rina as she tossed the horseshoes at the metal pole sticking out of the sand. Finding his courage, he decided he’d come over and offer her an out, if she wanted it, from this conversation.

“You work out?” Frankie overheard the younger guy, probably around twenty-five if he had to take a guess, ask. Dylan chuckled and shook her head in response.

“No,” she replied. “Not a masochist like that.”

“What’s that?”

Frankie couldn’t help but chuckle at the guy’s lack of vocabulary, earning Dylan’s attention.

“Hey,” she chirped, moving closer to him and further from the stranger. “You see the progress I made with her?”

“Yeah,” Frankie smiled and nodded, his eyes flickering to her friend who remained. When she gave him a widened stare and a subtle nudge of her head, he took his cue to intervene. “Hey man, you need something?”

“Nah, was just coming over to say hi to your sister,” he replied. Frankie didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes combed over Dylan’s body hungrily, like he’d pounce on her at any moment.

“I’m actually gonna just get back to my boyfriend,” Dylan spoke up, pointing at Frankie as she turned to the guy. Frankie felt his stomach full with butterflies at the title, even if it was only granted to get her out of this unwanted interaction.

“Boyfriend?” he chuckled, as if the mere thought of the two of them being together was preposterous. Frankie thought it was too. Dylan was beautiful, and not in a small-town way. She could make any head turn in any room anywhere, and Frankie…well, he was a shaggy ex-coke addict and former killer for the US government. Not exactly the kind of people anyone would think to put together.

“Listen,” Dylan started, her polite smile now gone as she folded her arms and glared at the young man. “I’m not interested. So, you can go back to your friends.”

“Crazy fucking bitch,” he muttered as he turned to walk away.

Frankie maintained his cool, growing docile in his thirty-six years, it seemed. A part of him wished he was still twenty-something and brave like an idiot so that this juice head could learn a lesson, but he reckoned his daughter and roommates wouldn’t care much for all of that.

“Sorry,” Dylan turned to Frankie and mumbled an apology, causing his brows to furrow.

“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything,” he whispered back, not wanting Rina to overhear and get curious.

“Daddy!” Rina interrupted Dylan before she could reply, tugging on the hem of his t-shirt. “I wanna swim.”

“Why don’t you go with Uncle Benny and Lennon? They’re swimming, baby.” Frankie pointed into the water where Benny was currently splashing Dylan’s younger sister.

“I don’t wanna swim with them, I wanna swim with you,” she replied, frowning up at her father. Frankie sighed and nodded, sweeping her curls back before whispering an “okay”.

“Go grab your floaties, they’re under the shade,” he ordered, watching as his little girl went sprinting up the beach before turning back to Dylan. “I’m sorry that guy was a fucking prick, Dyl. I would’ve said something if Rina—“

“No, you’re fine,” she insisted, giving him a smile. “You coming over was all the help I needed. I can tell a dude to fuck off myself, but it’s nice to know I have someone in case—“

“Case the steroids takeover,” he joked, earning a chuckle.

“Yeah,” she hummed, eyes lingering on his. “Well, hey, I must look decent…to attract an ‘alpha’ male like him, I mean.”

“Now you’re just playing with me,” he rolled his eyes and smirked as Rina came running back up to him with her floaties on her biceps. Frankie scooped her up and perched her on his hip as she started squirming with excitement. “Come on bebecita, let’s get this outta your system.”

“Are you coming, Dyllie?” she asked as Frankie started to walk off towards the water.

“Do you want me to?” Dylan asked and Frankie tensed. Now she was not only going to be in that bikini, but she was going to get wet in it, too? He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of this torture. “You know what, Ri, I think I’m just going to go over and help Uncle Santi and Imelda with the hot dogs.”

Frankie breathed a sigh of relief and continued on towards the water with his daughter mumbling a complaint over Dylan’s rejection.

“What, you like Dylan now? I thought you didn’t?” Frankie asked playfully, though he knew his daughter’s initial distrust and reluctance over bonding with her new roommate ended a couple weeks after she’d moved in.

“Daddy, that’s a lie. I love Dyllie,” she scolded her father sternly as they arrived at the water. Frankie apologized with a smirk, his heart growing warm at the knowledge that the woman he’d started to fall for already had the seal of approval from the most important person in his life.

It was then that he decided that all this waiting had to end. He needed to make things happen while he still had all this free time to spend with Dylan, because soon things would be hectic and crazy and too stressful to try and start up something lasting, which is exactly what he wanted this thing between him and his roommate to become.

Back at home, the evening dwindled into something warm and content, the entire household congregated outside in the freshly manicured backyard. Will grilled steaks and corn on the cob with the help of Santi since Imelda had gone home for an early night. Benny and Lennon sat at the patio table playing blackjack, their laughter sounding out through the yard, bringing a smile to Dylan’s face as she sat on the swing set of the small playground Frankie had built for his daughter during the first few weeks of having her back with him. Dylan couldn’t have felt more content, her belly full of hot dogs and beer, watching Frankie laying in the grass with his daughter pointing up at the stars that had just barely become visible in the twilight sky.

“Dyl!” Lennon called, pulling her from her daze. “Come here!”

Dylan got up and walked past Frankie, shooting him a wink as she walked over to the table and sat down beside Benny.

“Settle an argument,” Lennon started.

“Okay,” Dylan chuckled.

“Frankie’s dick—it’s average size, right?” Lauren continued, causing Dylan’s eyes to widen at the unexpected question.

“Uh—“

“I’ve seen it,” Benny argued. “Not for very long and not…ya know, fuckin’ hard, but I saw it. I know it’s above average.”

“I—I wouldn’t know,” Dylan shrugged, trying not to blush too hard at the subject that she’d given plenty of thought to in private but never in public. “Haven’t seen it yet.”

“Felt left out.” Frankie appeared at the table and took the seat on the other side of Dylan. She couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face as he scooted his chair back in much closer to hers than it had been before. “What’re we talking about?”

“Nothing,” Benny answered, eyeing Lennon with a smirk.

“Frankie, can I ask you something?” Lennon leaned over the table a bit, a mischievous smirk growing on her face as she watched her sister glare at her in warning.

“Shoot,” he shrugged.

“What’s like, in your opinion of course, the average dick size?”

Dylan turned to Frankie and watched as he choked on his beer before composing himself.

“Uh, I don’t know. Average is relative,” he replied, his eyes glancing over at Dylan who was fully turned to face him. “Like five or six inches, I don’t know. Why?”

“Five or six hard? Or five or six flaccid?” Benny probed.

“In your case, hard,” Frankie retorted, earning a scoff from his friend and a laugh from Dylan.

“But…in your case?” Lennon continued.

“Len,” Dylan snapped.

“Hey, you need another beer?” Frankie asked Dylan with a tap on her shoulder as he stood up.

“Yeah, I’ll just join you.” Benny and Lennon whistled as the pair walked into the house, causing Will and Santi to join in with their own hollering.

“Jesus,” Frankie sighed as he slid the patio door shut, silence falling over the house. “Like living with a bunch of middle schoolers.”

“I’m sorry about Lennon.” Dylan opened the fridge and pulled out two beers while Frankie took a seat on the sectional. “She’s obsessed with your dick size apparently. Seems to think you’re small, but Benny disagrees.”

“What do you think?” he asked, eyes locked on her as she walked his beer over and sat down beside him with her own. She hugged her legs up to her chest and smirked, shrugging.

“All I know is you’re good with your hands. Long as you have that down, you’ll get the job done,” she answered, bringing out that dimple of his when she reached her foot over to nudge his thigh.

“So,” he started, changing the subject from his manhood to something more pressing. “I was thinking, if you’re still up for it, maybe I could take you out tomorrow? There’s this old drive-in theater that’s playing The Shining, but if that’s not your thing—“

“No, I love The Shining,” she interrupted with an excited smile. “I think that sounds like a good plan, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he grinned through his disbelief at the fact that he was actually going out on a date with this dream of a woman. Dylan giggled and nodded, moving to close the distance between them before resting her head on his shoulder.

“Put a movie on,” she ordered in a whisper. Frankie hummed a “sure thing” and reached over the coffee table to grab the remote, turning the TV on. As he scrolled through Netflix, Dylan cozied up into his side, relishing in the feeling of his arm wrapping around her shoulder. “This feels nice. Feels right.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, smiling to himself. “It feels really right.”

•

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x oc #frankie morales fluff #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic #mmith

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ad0rechuu · 11 months

Text

NO MORE TOMORROWS. ━━ LUCIFER

prompts / plot. ━━━━━ your return should be a joyful one, instead it’s an one way to heartache for everyone, especially lucifer

*𖤐₊ ━━━━━ gn! reader x lucifer , angst / hurt , staring: all the obey me characters but mainly lucifer, solomon and mammon , tw: just pain! set after an alternate version of obey me night bringer lesson 11, so spoilers but it’s an au so nothing too major imo, death, they/them used , wc: 1118 , notes: i’ve had this idea since it came out but i finally stopped procrastinating and finally did it !

[ listening to . . . ] take me down by the rose

masterlist | credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

IT WAS SO INCREDIBLY TIRING.

Another bleak day without you or that damned sorcerer and Lucifer could feel himself nearing closer to the edge with each passing hour, waiting for the tomorrow you’d show back up with a smile.

Everyone was worried about your sudden disappearances without any trace, but life had to go on whether they liked it or not

Lucifer rested his head on his fist as he took notes of the repetitive student council meetings that Diavolo had requested, trying to avoid the sight of your empty seat.

The prince was aware that no one felt like doing it (hell he could barely fake a smile himself) but you being missing didn’t make it okay to neglect the Devildom or RAD, which everybody clearly agreed with in their begrudging attendance.

Suddenly a gust of wind made everyone look up in confusion, covering their eyes, when a bright flash of white light and the sound of a portal being opened surprised them.

There Solomon was, he looked like a mess clutching your body in bridal style as he stepped out of the portal, head hanging low.

Before anyone could say anything, he shocked them again

As soon as he was on solid ground he dropped to his knees, making sure to put your body down gently and cradled your hand to his lips with his own shaking ones. Tears streamed down his cheeks, a sight that was less than rare for the immortal sorcerer that always sported a smile.

Mammon was the first to speak up, standing up from his chair so quickly he pushed it over, he quickly rushed to the humans' side as he looked at Solomon. “What’s this? Where the hell have ya been? What’s wrong with Mc?” He urged Solomon with panic evident in his voice.

His words caused a chain reaction from all the brothers and Luke, talking over each other and surrounding the two as the sorcerer tried to cease the quiet sobs escaping out of his mouth.

“Silence!” Lucifer finally spoke up and made his way to the scene. At his words the six demons and the angel stopped talking, looking at their older brother expectantly.

“Solomon, what happened?” He asked in a uncharacteristically soft tone.

Solomon's head shot up, his whole demeanor changing drastically as he met Lucifer’s ruby eyes. The whole room noticed the ice in his glare. The still seated beings quickly got up, feeling a storm brewing.

Solomon softly let go of your hand and stood up, not breaking eye contact for even a second as he headed straight to the after of pride. “You…”

Suddenly, his hands clutched Lucifer’s collar in a burst of rage. “You did this to Mc! This is all your fault!” He screamed at Lucifer, shaking the demon violently.

Simeon and Barbatos quickly dragged the struggling sorcerer away from him before he could cause any real harm while the others watched in terror. They’d never seen Solomon like this before and it scared them.

To everyone’s surprise Lucifer did not retaliate. In fact he did not do anything but stand and stare at Solomon as he yelled the most crude things they’d ever heard at him.

Solomon finally stopped trying to get to Lucifer, wiping his eyes as he turned to him one last time with a disgusted look on his usually-smiling features.

“You killed Mc, Lucifer.”

A KNOCK ON THE DOOR of his bedroom shook Lucifer out of the deep depths of his own mind as he sat at his desk with a half empty glass of expensive aged demonus.

His first brother poked his head trough the bedroom door, unintentionally giving Lucifer a pity filled look.

“Can I come in?”

The question was unusual for Mammon, as he often opted to just burst in whether he had permission or not.

Lucifer nodded, and he walked in, tear stains on his face. He softly closed the door and took a seat on the empty chair in front of his older brother.

Mammon bit the inside of his cheek, deep in thought for a while. He looked down at his hands, playing with a loose thread on his jeans. “So I talked with Simeon who talked with, erm, Solomon.” The younger started but stopped to check his reaction.

He downed the last of the demonus as if to prepare himself for whatever was coming. (Which judging for Mammons demeanor couldn’t be good.)

“So? What did he say?”

“He uhm- No matter what, it’s not yer fault, Lucifer, you didn’t- I mean, it wasn’t you, at least not really-!” Mammon’s words did not comfort Lucifer in the slightest, especially when he kept cutting himself off. “You have to know that, you have promise not to blame yourself, okay!?”

He sighed at the ranting and the stalling, he couldn’t stand to wait any longer. “Just tell me, Mammon!”

The other demon looked at him with big eyes but slowly nodded.

“When Mc disappeared, they ended up in the past, our past to be exact. When we first came to the Devildom. Solomon followed them to help but the only way they could come back was if they reformed all the pacts they made with us seven. To make things easier Solomon told them to lie about being a demon. But the bond with us was so strong that they could still use the pact to command us. Which, they did and everyone found out the truth.”

He swallowed as tears started to well up in his blue eyes.

“That version of you was betrayed and angry. That Lucifer didn’t trust Mc after they lied, he felt threatened and in an attempt to protected us you…”

“I killed them.”

Mammon stood up, slamming his hands harshly on the wooden desk. “No, you didn’t! That was not you!”

“I killed them.” Lucifer stared blankly ahead, his face void of any sort of emotion, oddly calm in a way that worried the avatar of greed greatly.

Now Mammon started to full on cry, panicking at the sight and unable to do anything, his heart hurting for the demon. “Lucifer, please…”

Lucifer’s heart also hurt, he knew couldn’t promise Mammon anything.

This feeling, it didn’t even feel like a heartbreak, it felt like his whole body was pulled apart from limb to limb and thorn into little minuscule pieces. His head was spinning due to a horrible headache that he hadn’t felt before. His heart started speeding up rapidly as the gravity of the situation started to settle in.

There would be no days to look forward to with you in his arms anymore and there would be no more tomorrows with you.

“I killed Mc.”

notes. this is my first full one shot that i have posted on his account which scares me a little bit i really hope you will enjoy it and please leave a comment, i really want know how you’d (dis)liked it!

taglist. @sweatyjeans @tocupid @starryyunho | send me an ask to be added to the general obey me or kpop taglist (or both ofc)

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senditcolton · 1 year

Text

Francesca

a/n: why does this song work so well with a trade fic? and since it was a request for Beau, everything just fell perfectly into place. (also, this is Hozier’s most romantic song to date. I don’t make the rules, that’s just the truth.) word count: 1.5k warnings: angst, right person wrong time, bittersweet ending. gender neutral reader!

Now that it’s done, there’s not one thing that I would change.

It still didn’t feel real.

You had seen the news, saw the headline break hours ago. But it still didn’t feel like the truth. Anthony couldn’t be traded.

He couldn’t be leaving you. Not like this.

And as soon as that thought flits through your mind for the hundredth time today, it is once again followed by that chiding voice calling your reaction dramatic.

He wasn’t leaving you¸ he was leaving New York. And it was ridiculous and egotistical to think that you were the most important and heartbreaking thing that he would leave behind. Because what did the two of you share?

Nothing.

Anthony was your friend; nothing less but also nothing more. Sure, there were times that the two of you tiptoed along the invisible line of becoming something more than friends, a line that you both were too scared to cross. But neither of you ever took the leap.

And now… he was leaving.

And all the things that you thought about saying to him, all the speeches that you had written in your mind on lonely midnights, were rotting in your heart as the hours past.

You could call him, text him, even run to him and have the words spill out of your mouth. But you had never been good at being brave. It was always easier to let life run its course.

Which is why you were still here in your apartment, letting the minutes of the clock tick by.

Until its steady rhythm is interrupted by a soft knock on your door.

Your head turns towards the noise and then the clock on the wall, wondering who could possibly be on your doorstep at 11pm. The knock sounds again and you unfurl yourself from the sofa and wander to your front door, not even bothering to look before swinging open the heavy wood, the cold winter breeze entering your apartment.

The wind could be blamed for the goosebumps that appeared on your arms. But your reaction could easily be traced to the ice blue eyes that connected with yours.

“Anthony?”

His name escapes your chest in a sigh – a sigh mixed with confusion and relief. He was here.

In a blur of motion you don’t fully register, Anthony steps over the threshold, closing the door with his foot as his hands lift to cup your jaw.

And then he is kissing you.

Your own hands fly up to grip his wrists but you don’t push him away. The movement was more so to steady yourself as you feel his soft lips on yours.

But right before you get used to the feeling and fully register the fact that Anthony is kissing you, he pulls away, his hands dropping and you release your hands as well.

The two of you stand there in silence: you still stunned and confused – Anthony dazed for a moment until you see a rose blush rise on his cheeks before he speaks.

“I’m sorry, I just –”

You don’t let him utter another syllable before you’re the one reaching out to him, hands grabbing his face as you pull his lips back to yours. Anthony takes your desperation in stride, matching it and kissing your deeper than before, his hands pulling you closer as the two of you blindly stumble further into your apartment.

A gasp escapes you as Anthony’s body descends to sit on the couch, his hands pulling you down with him until you are straddling his lap, a brief pause before the kisses continue.

You couldn’t think, could barely breathe. Your senses were just filled with Anthony; the sandalwood of his cologne, the warmth of his body, the taste of his lips.

You felt like flying. You felt like you were falling.

Because he was here.

Because he was leaving.

That remembrance is what finally snaps you back to the reality of this situation – the harsh reality. Your hand falls from his hair to his chest, pushing back and creating a small distance between your bodies. Your eyes connect with his and you can feel your heart ache at the sight of the emotions swimming in his irises.

“What is happening?” you ask, the question not fully formed. A sad smile tugs at the corners of Anthony’s lips as his hand reaches up to your face, the touch of his thumb a whisper over your lips.

“I just wanted to know what it was like to kiss you,” he confesses.

“Why now?”

“You know why.”

Of course you did: the trade. That damnable trade. The unavoidable fact that in less than a week, he would be in another city on the other side of the continent. He would be gone.

“I couldn’t leave you,” Anthony continues, his eyes still locked with yours, soft and earnest. “Not without letting you know how I feel about you. And if I never see you again…”

His voice trails off, plunging the room into silence. But he said enough. His words were enough to plunge the knife that had lodged its way into your heart earlier that day impossibly deeper. He would be gone. And this is what he left you with.

Your eyes close, fighting back tears as you gently shake your head.

“Why?” you ask, the word thick and choked as it leaves your lips.

“Why what?”

“You couldn’t have just left me here without a goodbye?” you explain, opening your eyes and locking them with his once again, the tears welling as you speak. “You had to come here and give me this – this knowledge of what it’s like to have you before you leave my life, maybe for the last time?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispers.

“You already have.”

This time, the silence that falls over the two of you is heavy, filled with loss and grief. Your gaze moves skyward to push back the teardrops that aren’t dissipating. One ends up escaping, rolling down your cheek. You are about to wipe it away with your sweatshirt sleeve but before you could, you feel Anthony’s hand on the soft skin of you face once more. His thumb brushes the droplet off your cheekbone and you look back to him and find his eyes filled sorrow.

You couldn’t be angry at him. You could never be angry at him. He wasn’t the one to blame.

“I’m sorry,” you speak, breaking the weighted silence. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. I just… I just thought we had more time.”

“We both did,” he replies and you have to laugh. Because there was your Anthony, always shouldering your burdens and anxieties, never letting you feel the full weight of them.

“God, if I knew then what I know now… I wish I could go back and change it all. I would make different choices. Maybe if I did, we wouldn’t end up here.”

Your mind starts to wander, thinking about all the moments where you could have taken that step towards you and Anthony becoming something more, where you could have shared something before this. Perhaps the two of you could have created a foundation that would’ve survived any storm that blew your way.

It’s Anthony’s touch that brings your back to the present this time – the feeling of his calloused fingers intertwining with yours, his hand lifting yours to his mouth, pressing soft kisses against your skin.

“I wouldn’t,” he murmurs, his words slightly muffled by your knuckles. Your head tilts in confusion, staring at Anthony until he glances up towards you. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because I had you in this life. And yeah, maybe in another life, we had this sooner. But maybe in another life, we crashed and burned. Or maybe we never even met.”

His hands move again, this time lifting to cup the back of your head, pulling your face closer to his until your foreheads are pressed together. Your eyelids flutter close as you fall into him, the warmth of his body and his breath sinking into you as he speaks again.

“If I had the choice between the comforting certainty of this moment or the daunting uncertainty of every other possible future, I’d do the same thing, make the same mistakes again and again. Because here, at least I got to love you for a moment.”

He moves impossibly closer to you, until your lips are only millimeters away from each other, so close that it is as if he breathes his next words into your lungs:

“That’s better than never loving you at all.”

His words are twinged with a desperation and conviction, begging for you to believe him. But not to make him feel better – not for you to nod and say that he was right.

No, his confession was a prayer sent to you in the hopes that it would give you peace.

And when you close the distance between you once again, kissing him deeply, the hurricane in your mind disappeared.

It was true. Even though you know your heart would break, you’d go through it again, do it all over again.

Because at least you had him.

Even if only for a night.

#nicole writes #hozier blurb weekend #anthony beauvillier blurb #anthony beauvillier angst #vancouver canucks blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb

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blue-darner · 2 years

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Okay, I'll be honest. As much as I LOVE Break the Ice's story – and I really do think it might be my all-time favorite if not second favorite – I really loathe so much of the gameplay in it.

The enemy variety feels lackluster compared to Near Light and the Mansfield Break enemies in the last 2 events we've had. There's the enemy deadeyes that have to be taken into account, tschagatta power spikes are kinda fun to play around, and the arts guards, which are.... something, even if I don't like them. Everything else is just so lame tho. (Except Degenbrecher, that was a cool boss even if she didn't really interact with the event mechanics)

The cold stuff is mostly uninspired/recycled I fear, there isn't a lot of interactions the enemies have with it, but it's alright, just means you bring whisperain and/or blaze to every map you can. Even if it's not totally new it's fun to play around.

Penetrating cold feels like it's close but doesn't quite hit the mark. Imagine if it did a lot of damage to your units, but you were given deplorable tools that could block the wind similar to the mounds blocking sandstorms. Then you could make interesting decisions about sacrificing push power and unit real estate in order for shelter.

My biggest issue tho is the shifting mechanics as a whole. Besides penetrating cold, which can be used against you and has interesting use in a few of the ex stages, everything relating to the shifting of frozen enemies feels awful. pushing enemies down long, thin turning corridors is finicky and way too precise and doesn't really have that big of a payoff. The corners hardly do anything interesting from a gameplay perspective except make a tile undeployable. The fact that the arts guards lose HP from being shifted makes it even MORE finicky because now they can die and explode in an inopportune spot, which makes some of the medals way more infuriating than they should be, and when not going for the medals it's so much less of a headache to just lappland those motherfuckers since they're just glorified spiders.

I think the bigger problem is twofold: First, all the new ops work with cold/frozen, meaning if you add enemies that BENEFITS from cold instead of being hurt by it, you're disincentivizing the new ops right as they're released. Not a good look. Second, and bigger, there unfortunately isn't that much space for ideas for an ice-themed event as is. I can't help but sympathize with how hard it was to even come up with the gameplay mecahics I dislike. The only other idea I possibly have is having stage elements – either pre-deployed or deployable by the player – that have to be shifted to be removed, but act like a cross between the pillars in chapter 9 and what the arts guards currently do. Or even better, give the player the ability to carve the corners themselves, letting them find interesting ways to set up big shift chains.

#arknights #long post #I'd put a readmore but I'm on mobile and also dgaf

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sparkycinnamon · 6 months

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Elemental Battlegrounds AU: Curses

In the Elemental Battlegrounds AU, there are different curses that can be afflicted on people, giving them various negative effects.

There is one curse for each element:

Fire: Everything feels like it’s burning. It hurts to touch others, both for them and for you.

Water: You just feel really sad. So sad, in fact, that you can’t help but cry. All the time.

Grass: Plants and flowers start growing near you. And on you.

Wind: You become trapped in a tornado that gets stronger the stronger your emotions are.

Storm: Everyone who tries to touch you gets electrocuted.

Earth: You turn into stone, making it harder for you to move.

Sound: Your voice projects against your will.

Lava: Your arms turn into lava. The lava does not hurt you or any of the clothes on your body, but it hurts anything else it touches.

Ice: Your eyes are made of ice, blinding you. It’s slowly spreading to the rest of you.

Nature: All of nature becomes dedicated to protecting you. It grows everywhere you go, attacking anyone who attempts to go near you.

Plasma: You refuse to go inside. You need to look at the sun.

Crystal: The opening to your mouth is covered in crystals.

Spirit: You start seeing visions of the afterlife. You can’t stop seeing them.

Gravity: Gravity is always either super heavy or super light for you, no in-between.

Light: Everything is always super bright.

Darkness: Everything is always super dark.

Nightmare: You’re constantly having nightmares and sometimes they become real.

Time: You lose all passage of time. Clocks stop working in your vision.

Phoenix: You are constantly dying and being reborn again.

Dragon: A dragon follows you around relentlessly, trying to kill you.

Void: Your eyes turn completely black, and you wander looking for the last person you said the name of. When you find them, you afflict them with the curse too, and get teleported to the void. The curse is contagious, and can spread to anybody with an elemental power.

Spectrum: Everything is constantly rainbow colour-changing.

Space: Whenever you go to sleep, you dream of space. A black hole torments you endlessly in your dreams.

Reaper: All weapons are now haunted and trying to kill you.

Aurora: You see lights in the sky that aren’t there. You’re entranced by them, needing to go higher into the sky every time you see them.

Explosion: Everything you pick up becomes a ticking time bomb.

Chaos: Everything that could go wrong does go wrong.

Illusion: Your soul becomes trapped in a 4-dimensional realm, leaving your empty body as free real estate for people wanting to take control of it.

Acid: You constantly drool acid.

Angel: An angel follows you around whenever you’re awake, trying to carry you into the afterlife.

Slime: You turn into a slime. You forget most of your memories, and you just go about doing slime stuff. Only a loved one (romantic, platonic, or familial) of yours can bring you back.

Technology: Parts of your body glitch and turn into binary code randomly.

Creation: Everything you think of becomes real.

Solar: The sun hates you.

The afflicted do not need to have the element the curse is based on.

The ways to lift these curses vary from element to element, but all of them involve a curse patch being put on their body after the main effect is lifted, to slowly get rid of side effects.

#elemental battlegrounds au #right hand rambles

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heretic-saint-taliesin · 1 year

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I wrote an extract of original work so I’m putting it up here just for funzies.

For context it is an idea based around an alien invasion that takes place via them replacing people who die in accidents.

And if you get that reference your parents raised you on the good kind of 60s television.

Precipitation. The sound of the water droplets hammering the bedroom window making a low hum in my ears. It’s a naturally occurring phenomenon of Earth weather and a strikingly common one for the region I now inhabit. So much so, my old cultural readings had pointed out to me, that the country of England held the stereotype for being one of the rainiest and wettest places on the planet. Scientifically, this was untrue, but folklore was always of greater interest to me than scientific fact.

This precipitation was safe to make contact with - unlike the pelting rains of the old world. When we had observed Earth in my studies, Solarii and I had often wondered what such a safe, tangible rain might feel like upon solid skin. The wonderment alone kept us motivated in our research.

My mind pulls itself out of its daydream and realises that it is raining. It’s actually raining. Looking out the glass and onto the pavements below I can see the darkening concrete below and greyed clouds spitting water haphazardly over the gardens. A few people pull their coats higher over their faces and heads, speeding their walks up to avoid the worst of the downfall.

Despite England’s stereotypes, it is my first time seeing rainfall since I inhabited a body.

Without thinking I pull the latch on the window and fling it open as wide as the hinges will go. The rain spatters over the ledge and a few wet drops catch my hands - I feel the coolness of the water on my skin. A chill wind blows my hair back over my shoulders and sends a thrilling shudder down my spine. The howl of its gale and the low rumble of distant thunder.

There are raindrops pattering my cheeks. I grab the window ledge and lean out to catch more. Rain! Real rain! It’s freezing and wet and seems to sink through my pores like ice! To the normal inhabitants perhaps this is unpleasant but for me, feeling this unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Physical rain. Wet, cold, miserable rain! But real!

“Are you trying to catch pneumonia or something?!”

Boris’ hand grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me back into the bedroom. He slams the window closed again and my brief interaction with the rain is broken. My head turns to look at him and I can immediately tell he’s annoyed.

“The fuck are you doing?” Boris asks, letting go of my shoulder and folding his arms.

He’s twitchy still. I’ve noticed he doesn’t use his twin’s name to refer to me when we’re not in public, but still doesn’t use my real name either. It’s as if he’s deliberately putting me, and the body I inhabit, at arms length.

“It’s… Raining?” I reply, not sure if that answer will satisfy him.

It doesn’t.

“You’re throwing my brother’s body out of a second floor window haphazardly over rain?” he asks, aghast.

Something in his expression tells me he plans to find the key for the window and revoke any future access to it from me.

“I have never physically felt rain before,” I confess, taking my seat back on Arkady’s bunk and putting my chin in my hands.

“It was a new sensation.”

Boris rolls his eyes and sits in the middle of the floor, crossed legged, and stares me down. He tucks his braid behind his ear and takes a moment of silence. His breathing is heavy and I can tell he’s thinking his emotions through again. I sense slight embarrassment in his posture for his outburst.

“You’ve never felt rain until now?” he finally asks. Boris is calmer, but definitely doesn’t believe my earlier confession.

I nod. He blinks twice and then tilts his head. His eyes drift slightly to the left as his mind processes how to respond to me. Human thought is complex when tied so heavily to emotional reaction.

“Not at all?” He repeats and I nod a second time.

“I haven’t had the ability to. No solid body and no rain that was safe to touch.”

Boris’ fingers lightly touch one of his encyclopaedias of the galaxy tucked into the bookcase beside him. He is aware of planets that can rain materials other than water. A few of them even exist within his known solar system. That is not what he struggles to comprehend.

“So.” He purses his lips.

“In Arkady’s body, you can feel rain, correct?”

“Correct!” I get a little rush of pleasure at the reminder as well.

“Rain is wet, cold and makes me shiver. Those are the conclusions I have drawn. Observations had me assume it would be wet but even still! Feeling it was indescribable!”

Boris knits his eyebrows and his face is a mixture of confusion, slight sympathy, and embarrassment. He sees my smile and his confusion escalates, culminating in his slow sink down until he lays on his side on the rug.

“I don’t get you,” he concludes.

The feeling is mutual. I often don’t “get” his reactions either.

“Well, if I have never had a physical form before how can I have experienced physical interactions with matter around me? Taking Arkady’s body has meant I can experience senses beyond sight and sound.”

I cross my legs on the bed and lean against the bedpost, watching the supine Boris staring wide eyed at the ceiling.

“Is this why you caused such a ruckus over dinner last night?” he finally asks.

I feel myself smiling again. The memory of the food is almost as delicious as the real thing.

“Humans willingly ingest capsaicin. I had to experience it for myself! Your, ahem, our mother makes very delicious meals.”

“Yes but, well…” Boris sputters, wringing his hands slightly. He sits up quickly, wincing as the speed twinges his lingering injuries.

“If you’re trying so hard to pass for basic human, and then also play a convincing Arkady, you need to stop acting like everything is a monumental moment for you - even if it is!”

Now his worry begins to make sense to me. Perhaps I have been a little too eccentric in my discoveries of Earth’s wonders. Humans have inhabited the place for so many generations that its natural wonders aren’t as thrilling to them.

“Alright,” I agree, getting up from the bed to stand over him.

He glares at me and refuses my hand when I offer it. Boris uses his crutch to get to his feet and leans on it heavily. He rubs his temple, lowering his voice and speaking quietly.

“If you have to puppet Arkady’s body around, at least treat it with some respect. Don’t get yourself a cold from running around in the rain and don’t go overdosing on spicy food. Arkady he… He didn’t even like curry all that much. Mum’s going to think that accident resulted in some miracle change in his taste buds or something.”

Boris gives me a look and I nod quickly.

“Understood. I will act more normal about curry and rain from now on.”

That seems to work, he pulls his crutch closer and walks to the bedroom door. He cracks it open a little and peers onto the landing. Silence descends between us, just the sound of the rain still falling outside.

“Don’t you have an appointment with your therapist today?” I ask, tilting my head. Boris grunts.

He does. It’s on the calendar above his desk. It’s circled in yellow highlighter and the corkboard beside it has his necessary papers pinned to it. I am supposed to attend as well once I am considered “well enough” by the doctors. As far as they are concerned I am still gripped with a traumatic brain injury and am in different medical care. That doctor is also a replicant, but I haven’t disclosed that to Boris yet.

I think it would convince him even more strongly that he is going insane. He isn’t, but the human mind is easily tricked.

“I’m getting a lift there,” Boris adds, breaking our silence again.

“Did you want me to come along?” I offer. Being seen together as twins made it more convincing for myself. But Boris just shakes his head.

“You’re not supposed to be overexerting yourself - another reason not to hang out the fucking window.”

Point taken. I nod and return to the bed.

“Just.. Take care of my brother’s body will you?” Boris doesn’t face me but he speaks to me.

“Even if he isn’t gonna come back for it. I’d rather not let anything worse happen.”

“I will, I promise,” I assure.

He leaves and I am alone again.

At least I can enjoy the sounds of the rain without worrying too much.

#my fic #Reval-utionary writing #original writing #original characters

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raymondalmcarlsson · 2 years

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How to Choose the Right Pontoon Lifts

Pontoon Lifts Advice For You

, they're more personalized after the reality, so there is less requirement to purchase an entire new boat. In Click here for more info , you'll desire to beach your boat.

Some pontooners even install a fire pit right in the deck of the playpen. Investing a day on just about any pontoon boat makes you feel like an instantaneous millionaire without investing tons of money on the fanciest pontoon boat to do so.

Every single person who gets in my pontoon boat for the very first time eventually says something like "Oh, that was truly enjoyable. That obviously isn't real on blustery days when there's lots of chop and rough waters, however on average days, the boat stays really level.

They're fenced in with high side rails so they're less most likely to fall out of the boat (you still need appropriate PFDs). Pontoon boats are also quite safe because they're huge and heavy. This makes them simple to drive due to the fact that they're really not likely to turn. With the max speed of lots of pontoon boats being around 28mph.

The Basics of Pontoon Lifts

There are threats to pontoon boats. In really rough water, they don't do well since the bow has a tendency to plow into waves, which can cause capsizing, however only if you're silly sufficient to avoid on the water during storms and high winds. In general, United States Coast Guard data reveal that pontoons are substantially more secure as a class.

If you're brand-new to boating, this might appear like a minor advantage, but if you have actually been boating for any quantity of time you know how nice it is to have sufficient storage on the boat. Inevitably, you'll welcome people onto your boat who will bring the complete ice chest, bags of clothing and extras, blankets for the cold nights and all sorts of things.

It's actually great. On my boat we can chuck the ice chest under the captain's console and another on the starboard aft end of the boat by the fishing chair and still have space for phones, wallets, additional life vests, modifications of clothes, snacks, a little barbecue and all kinds of other gear under the seats.

Pontoon boats are the perfect type of boat to handle lots of diverse adventures such as cruising, fishing, watersports, and more! They continue to be the preferred boat type for many individuals with their distinct designs and growing innovations. Discover what you might be missing out on out on the newest pontoon models.

Advantages Of Pontoon Lifts

posted in Fall/Thanksgiving, Holidays published in And more, My Ideas Whether you're a skilled pontoon boat owner or a newbie ready to find all the enjoyable owning a pontoon boat can use, safety should be your primary concern. It's simple to ignore an information or two when you're eager to get out on the water or when you're riding throughout the waves with the sun on your face and wind in your hair.

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#boats #boating

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majestyeverlasting · 3 years

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Hi!! Could you write for Bucky prompts 4 and 26??

♡ Hi, Anon!! I love this prompt pairing so much! Thank you for requesting this, and for waiting on me to get around to it! In this one, Bucky and the reader visit a park in Brooklyn that stirs up some nostalgic memories. But what he doesn't know is that, later that night, he'll learn that he's going to be a father. There's some pretty fall imagery and lots of sweet moments. I hope you like it! (Note: this isn’t canon regarding Bucky’s true age)

♡ Prompt 4: "Remember we used to come here when we were kids?"

♡ Prompt 26: “I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I? You’re really pregnant?”

All I Ever Wanted

There was a crispness to the evening air as the beginnings of fall settled within Brooklyn. The trees of Prospect Park, once green, were slowly transitioning into rich shades of orange and red. As you and Bucky walked along one of the pathways, leaves crunching beneath your shoes, there was an absence of car engines and horns—it was peaceful. All there was to be heard was chirping birds, the soft chatter of other park-goers, and the occasional whir of a cyclist’s wheels whenever one passed by.

Upon reaching a wooden bridge, the gentle sound of flowing water emerged as well. Beneath it, was a slender waterfall that fed into a small pond with dead leaves floating on the surface. Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist as the two of you admired it from over the railing. Somehow the whole day, including that moment itself, had managed to feel like a dream.

The two of you hadn’t been to Prospect Park in what felt like forever. Life had a way of sweeping you up in winds of responsibility that kept you from enjoying moments of stillness. But those winds had since drifted elsewhere, leaving the two of you with the freedom to simply be. Venturing out into nature and away from the noise had been Bucky’s suggestion earlier that morning. There was no place like the outdoors that was capable of soothing the soul.

“Look, doll,” he said eventually. Your eyes followed where his free hand pointed.

On one of the big rocks peeking out of the water below, a yellow butterfly had perched itself on a rock. “Yeah, I see it. It’s so pretty.” You smiled when he gave you a gentle squeeze.

“You know what butterflies symbolize?” You met his gaze, willing for him to continue. “Life and new beginnings,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a fraction of a second, you froze. You’d managed to keep yourself collected for the entirety of the day, but hearing those words quickened your heartbeat. Enough so that you became all the more reminded of what he didn’t know—not yet.

That morning, as he spoke to you through the bathroom door about going to Prospect Park, you’d been staring at a positive pregnancy test. You barely had enough breath to agree to the outing. And when he’d asked if you were okay, you told him you were fine, but left out the fact that your lives would be changing forever in the months to come.

The two lines on the stick explained weeks worth of your body trying to communicate to you. It explained that deep sense of knowing that refused to go away. To say that you wanted to merely tell Bucky would’ve been the largest understatement of your lifetime. With all the emotions that stirred within you, you wanted to scream, cry, and jump at the same time.

A voice within you encouraged you to make the moment you told Bucky really special and intimate. Especially considering every turn that his life had taken over the years. So you vowed to wait until the two of you arrived home from your evening at the park.

“Life and new beginnings,” you repeated. You were already aware that such was associated with butterflies, but hearing him say it in that moment carried a certain magnitude. “I love the sound of that.”

Later, after walking further, you found yourselves nestled on one of the benches overlooking the lake. The water sparkled in the warm light of the sun as it prepared to set. A couple men stood peppered along the bank fishing. Children giggled as they chased after each other. Paired with the fall trees and colors all around, it was nothing short of a beautiful scene.

You let your head rest on Bucky’s shoulder, and took his real hand in yours to play with his fingers. There was a time, years ago, when the two of you would play along that same lake—throughout the whole park, actually.

You were the first to speak after a while, “Remember we used to come here when we were kids?” You straightened up from his shoulder to look at him.

“Of course I do,” he said, a smile starting on his face. “Especially during the summer. We’d always try to find open fire hydrants to play in after we left. And if we were lucky, our mom’s would let us get ice cream or shaved ice,” he recounted, chuckling. “Those were the days.”

You shook your head. “I know. Now look at us.” About to have a child of our own, you thought.

“Yup. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, casting out a brief look around at the serenic evening. Then he focused back on you, his tone shifting, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” you tried not to answer too fast. “Why?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes a bit and gave a shrug. “I don’t know, I can just tell that something’s on your mind—ever since this morning,” he noted. “But you have yet to tell me what that something is, pretty girl.”

It took everything not to tell him right then and there, as you sat under a blue and orange sky in the park you knew like the back of your hand.

You offered him half a smile. “I’m that easy to read?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not necessarily. I’ve been reading you for a long time so it’s easy.” You allowed yourself to chuckle when he playfully quirked his brows. “So am I gonna have to work really hard to coax it out of you?”

You shook your head earnestly. “I promise I'll tell you when we get home… I have something to show you.”

On your way out of the park, there was a mama duck waddling under a tree with her ducklings trailing behind her.

It wasn’t until after you and Bucky made it back to your apartment, and had changed into something comfortable, that you told him you were ready. He sat on the edge of the bed as you went to retrieve the small gift box holding the pregnancy test. It was a miracle that you had had enough supplies left over from birthdays and holidays to be able to make it look as presentable as it did.

You extended it to him from a couple feet away. So much anticipation had built within you that you felt light, and as though you were buzzing.

Bucky accepted the box, and looked up at you. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes. “Why are you standing a mile away from me? C’mere.” You inched closer, and laughed when he pulled you to stand more so between his spread legs.

As he began to undo the white ribbon on the box, your lower lip was secured between your teeth. It seemed as though he was moving entirely too slow and fast at the same time.

As soon as he popped the lid off to reveal the pregnancy test sitting on top of little strips of crinkled, beige paper strips, your heartbeat sped up. Bucky’s attention lingered on the test. When he finally looked up, his gaze attested to the influx of thoughts that had been sparked into motion within his mind.

“I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I?” He briefly looked back down to stick again. Two lines. “You’re really pregnant?”

A smile broke across your face. With the news out, it felt as though you were uncaging a group of birds that had been longing for freedom for way too long. Before you could say anything else, Bucky set the box aside and stood to press his lips to yours. You stumbled back at the intentness in which he gripped your waist. It was a kiss that you felt every part of him through; his love, his passion, his warmth. And an intoxicating mix of joy and expectation.

He pulled away just enough to speak. “We’re gonna be parents?” His breath fanned over your lips. Then he leaned back in to kiss you once more, a soft peck. “You’re carrying our child?”

Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt, and the feeling of palms against your skin was pleasant in the best way. One was cooler than the other, but they were both gentle and reverent.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I found out this morning.”

He scratched gently at your stomach, sending a shiver through you. “You managed to keep it to yourself the whole day. That’s what was on your mind?” He kissed you again.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted to tell you. No idea.” You brought your hands up to his cheeks, the budding stubble scratchy against your palms. “But I wanted to wait until we came back from Prospect.”

Bucky released a breath after a few beats of silence. “I don’t even know what to say,” he said, voice low. “This is so crazy—a good crazy.”

“I know. I’m happy and terrified at the same time,” you admitted. “I’ve never felt this way in my entire life, but it feels….”

“Good,” he finished.

A laugh escaped you. “Yeah.”

Seconds later, he was getting down onto his knees to be level with your stomach. It wasn’t until he lifted your shirt to press a kiss to your stomach that the reality of the moment set in. For the first time since learning about your pregnancy, tears slipped down your cheeks.

Bucky heard you sniffle, and stood back up to take your hands in his. “This is all I ever wanted, you know that, doll?” A few tears had come to the waterline of his eyes. “A beautiful wife, a family. This is all something I thought I’d never have.”

You sniffled again, nodding. “You deserve everything,” you murmured.

“I have my everything right in front of me.”

Without waiting another moment, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tighter than you had in a while. Parents. The two of you were going to be parents.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, if you'd like. For more fluffy Bucky Barnes fics, click here.

#Bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #avengers fluff #the avengers #marvel #marvel fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #fatws

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