#through the storm chapter nineteen

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Three- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Oral Sex (M Rec), Throat Fucking, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, Manipulation, Gagging, Spitting, DubCon, CNC.

**here’s: one, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen & twenty.

As you approached the door of the familiar private classroom, a subtle sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your confidence.

Admittedly you got lost in the depths of your homework after dinner, becoming absorbed in the swirls of ink on your parchment, diligently crafting your Astronomy essay due in a mere three weeks from now. The minutes seemingly slipped away, and you realized you were running late for today's tutoring session, the devastating consequence of your intense focus on your academic obligations.

However, considering Mattheo's habitual tardiness--one of which he has mastered as well as any given art form--you assumed your delay wouldn't be at all consequential, and would most likely even go unnoticed. So without really thinking twice about it, you gently pushed open the door, expecting the room to be empty, the usual silence welcoming you as you stepped inside.

But then, to your astonishment, the room was not vacant. There he was, Mattheo Riddle, perched on the chair with an air of casual authority. His long legs were stretched out before him, feet confidently resting on the desk's edge, displaying a newfound confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. His arms were folded, his posture exuding an almost predatory assurance. His eyes, dark as the night and twice as intense, followed your every move as you stepped inside. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the weight of his gaze pressing upon you.

You closed the door with a deliberate slowness, the soft click echoing through the room like a gunshot in the silence, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently challenging you.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." He taunted, his voice laced with a poisonous charm. The room seemed to shrink in the wake of his suffocating arrogance. "Guess Ravenclaws little good girl isn't so perfect after all...who would have guessed."

You rolled your eyes, a flush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you awkwardly dropped your gaze to the floor. The weight of being late for the first time in your life was almost palpable, but you made an effort to play it off, attempting to regain your composure despite the lingering discomfort.

"Save the mind games for someone who's willing to play, Riddle," you said, slowly making your way toward him. "You have no right to talk, you're late every single week."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who turns into a sobbing mess over a less-than-perfect grade," Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have mental breakdowns just because I'm not the class's golden child in everything, and I'm definitely not the one who's about to graduate in merely a few months while still a fucking virgin-"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment at his audacity, a surge of indignation propelling you to slam your bag down on the desk in front of him. The force of your action knocked his feet off the desk, abruptly interrupting whatever sentence he had intended to finish, leaving him silenced in disbelief.

"At least I'm going to fucking graduate without needing someone to hold my hand like a child." You hissed, the words slipping past your teeth before you even had a chance to process them. "For someone who needs me so much, you sure don't act like you appreciate my help."

Mattheo's eyes darkened, a storm of arrogance and anger swirling in their depths, transforming his usual stoic demeanor into a deep scowl etched across his face. He rose from his seat, his tall frame looming over you, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.

"You think I need you, Raven?" He purred, wetting his lips. "You really think that?"

You steeled your jaw, strengthening your stance, ignoring the fact that your fingers were trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

"Where would you be without me, Riddle?" You whispered, kinking your neck back to catch his dark, hungry eyes. "How many tutors did you have before me? How many other students tried to help you but couldn't stand your arrogant, no-fucks-given attitude, hm?"

Your words draped the air with a palpable gravity, silencing Mattheo completely--an unprecedented reaction, given his usual quick retorts. The revelation ignited a fierce ember within you, fueling your resolve and lending a sharp edge to your words, as if each syllable carried the weight of your determination.

"That's what I thought..." your voice was low, reverberating as a mere whisper in the air, something flickering behind Mattheo's eyes that made your lips curl into a devilish smirk. "You know that without me, you'd be here forever...maybe you've managed to manipulate me into being your little toy, but that doesn't change the truth about this whole thing...you need me, Riddle, you fucking need me..."

Mattheo blinked, the ensuing silence lingering for what felt like a painful fucking eternity--time seemed to come to a standstill, everything around you fading into insignificance, leaving just you and the cunning, arrogant boy with tousled hair in your presence.

When he finally spoke, You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, understanding all too well that his words were laced with an arrogant twist, a prelude to something manipulative and cunning yet to unfold.

"You're right," he finally said, stepping closer. "I do need you,"

His voice dipped into a low, sinister register, and the corners of his lips curled into a sadistic smile, sending a chill down your spine.

"I need you to watch your fucking mouth," the touch of his fingers on your arm nearly made you jump, his hand grazing up and over your shoulder. "I need you on your knees begging for my forgiveness," the pads of his fingers grazed your collarbone, and before you could even comprehend it, his large hand clasped around your throat, the other finding the small of your back as he pushed you up against the desk. "And then, I need you swallowing my fucking cum like the good little whore I know you are."

Without wasting a single second of time his plush lips attacked yours, his tongue delving past your teeth with a passionate urgency. You were painfully aware of Mattheo's manipulative tactics, understanding that he was using your vulnerability to his advantage, and the rational part of your mind screamed warnings at you, reminding you of the toxicity in his actions.

Yet, beneath the surface; as his hands roamed your curves, his tongue explored your mouth; an unsettling, exhilarating feeling lingered, a strange sort of affection for the very dominance that should have repelled you.

The awareness of his exploitation only intensified the rush, a twisted form of affection blossoming amidst the wrongness of it all. It was as if the knowledge of being used had become entangled with your desires, forming a paradoxical bond that you couldn't sever. In the midst of the moral turmoil, a dark, irresistible thrill coursed through your veins, leaving you helplessly drawn to the very thing you should have despised.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Raven..." his lips fell to your jawline, hands groping your curves, bunching the fabric of your uniform within his battered fists. "You've been swearing far too much...you were late...and now you want to act like you have power over me?" When he sunk his teeth into your earlobe, you yelped, flinching as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Don't get it twisted, princess...I hold the fucking power here...look at what I do to you..."

Your entire body was tingling, your fingers latching onto the fabric of his white button up dress shirt for dear fucking life.

"Mattheo-"

His lips fell lower, rough hands gripping your hips and shoving your ass back onto the desk behind you, parting your legs on either side of his strong body as he pulled you against him.

"This is what I do to good girls like you...I turn them into naughty little whores..." he purred, licking a flat line up the side of your throat, your lids involuntary fluttering shut at the breathtaking sensation. "...naughty little whores who take my cock and swallow my fucking cum."

His hands slid up your sides, taking the fabric of your skirt along with them, and you gasped as you felt it hike dangerously high up your thighs, trembling fingers tugging it back down to keep yourself covered.

Mattheo huffed, releasing the fabric. "You're not used to being bad though, are you, princess?"

His teeth sank into your collarbone, creating a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine. Strands of his tousled hair caressed your cheek, the faintest whisper of a touch sending tingles across your skin. Your lips parted involuntarily, releasing a soft whimper, while Mattheo's response echoed in a deep, guttural groan that reverberated through the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

One hand gripped your jaw as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

Your breath hitched, flames roaring in your veins. "No, Mattheo...I'm not..."

"Mm," he purred, wetting his lips as he stared. "Do you know what happens to bad girls, Raven?"

Your stomach twisted as he tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, his eyes darkening with desire as they darted across your face, seemingly examining your features as though they were precarious and new.

Your voice trembled. "No..."

"They get fucking punished."

Before you could respond, Mattheo shifted his hand, shoving two rough fingers between your teeth, reaching for the back of your throat and forcing a gag. Your eyes watered, beads of salty fluid threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he was unyielding, gripping the back of your neck with his other hand to force himself further down your throat--holding you in place while he did.

Your entire body was in flames, your thighs begging, fucking screaming in a need so disgustingly dirty you'd never experienced anything remotely close to it before.

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, his dark eyes watching every single ministration of your face as you gagged on his fingers. The hand behind your head relented as he brought it to his crotch, palming the insistent bulge in his trousers as he watched you; seemingly not having blinked once.

"Unbutton your shirt," his voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with primal desire. He pushed his fingers deeper, clearing his throat. "Seal those filthy lips around my fingers, and unbutton your fucking shirt, princess..."

You cursed the fact that his body was separating your legs because all you wanted, more than anything on the face of the planet, was to squeeze your fucking thighs together--to give your cunt any sort of friction possible. Every word from his lips was doing inexplicable things to your body, and the need between your thighs was growing so insistent it was almost painful.

Following his commands, you sealed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue and bobbing your head painfully slowly as you teased him, trembling fingers moving to the buttons on your blouse and undoing them one by one until your chest was entirely exposed to him--your lungs stalled, pussy clenching as you watched his eyes darken with desire while they scanned your chest covered only by your navy laced bra, the hand on his crotch moving more insistently now.

"My fucking God, Raven," he breathed, jaw tensing so tight it looked painful. "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that hidden this whole time..."

You mewled involuntarily as he grazed your chest with his free hand, pushing his fingers deeper down your throat with enough intensity to make you cough as his demeanour switched and he palmed your breast with enough force to illicit an exasperated groan. He was possessed now, something swarming his pupils that made your entire body convulse with unfamiliar and unabashed need; you were almost certain there'd be a pool of your desire on the desk between your thighs at this point.

Without warning, he abruptly removed his hands from you. Your lips, parted in anticipation of a breath, yearned for air before his mouth enveloped yours once more. In a frenzy, his hands hurriedly reached for his belt, driven by an almost desperate urgency as you both inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Your lips meshed together in a way that seemed to consume each other, as if you could breathe in one another during the kiss.

Once he'd successfully freed himself, he pulled back, shoving his fingers back into your mouth and yanking you off the desk, his throbbing length pressing against your belly as he shoved himself against you; fingers forcing another gag from your chest, watching you with a primal fervour in his eyes so intense it was intoxicating.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth again, he cupped his hand out in front of you. "Spit."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain buffering in attempt to process his words until his free hand shot into your hair, tilting your head until your lips were parallel to his palm.

"Spit, Raven," he repeated. "Spit into my fucking hand."

Your stomach contorted with a mix of disbelief and unfamiliar desire, your entire being thrown off balance. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a jolt, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. His eyes bored into you, searing your skin into flames, and without another moment's hesitation, you gathered the saliva he had coerced from you and spat it into his hand.

"Mm, that's it...good little whore..." He purred, bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it into his shaft as he stroked himself, eyes never once leaving yours. "Now, get on your knees for me, pretty girl."

Your breath caught in your throat. He, of all people, had just called you "pretty," and you were certain your ears were playing some sort of trick on you. It was a compliment you never expected from him, someone you had never imagined would see you in such a way. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you did as he said, squeezing your thighs together as you situated yourself in front of his feet.

Mattheo's hand remained in your hair, firmly gripping a fistful as he stroked himself. "Hands behind your back, Raven..." he muttered. "Let me see those delicious fucking tits of yours."

Your entire body shuddered, immediately clasping your hands together behind you without a second thought.

"That's it...fuck-" he was stroking himself faster, the veins in his hands tensing with every movement. You weren't sure who was enjoying this more, him or you. "You want this, princess? You want this cock in your dirty little mouth?"

Your throat was drier than the desert, each swallow a struggle against the arid emptiness within. Fingernails dug into your own flesh with a fierce intensity, the pressure threatening to break through the skin, mirroring the internal turmoil that gripped you. Holy fucking shit.

"Yes..." your voice was a pathetic whisper.

"Don't be so modest, Raven," he sneered, slowing his pace, twisting his wrist as he stroked his shaft, eyes never once leaving yours. "Beg for it."

Your stomach was in your throat. You'd never done anything like that before, you weren’t even really sure how. "I...um-please, Mattheo..."

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement dancing across his features before he locked eyes with you once more, his arrogance wrapping around the room like a suffocating cloak.

"Bloody hell, I said beg for it...does the prissy little princess not know how to fucking beg?" his voice was a hoarse growl, his vocal cords strained with lust. "Tell me how bad you want my cock, Raven, tell me how much you need it."

You couldn't believe your ears; the turn of events in your life felt utterly surreal. Never in your entire existence could you have imagined that this is where you'd find yourself right now--merely a few months away from graduation, on your knees for the most suffocatingly arrogant delinquent in the school who was making you beg to suck his fucking dick. A man who only last year wouldn't have paid you an ounce of mind, who probably didn’t even know you existed.

Your cheeks burned, but you fought through it, the arousal in your lungs fuelling your words. "Please, Mattheo...I want your cock so bad, I want you in my mouth, I want to choke on it, I want you to fuck my throat until you cum-"

His grip on your hair tightened, simultaneous with the grip on his cock as he cranked your head back, leaning down to meet your eyes; his lips hovering mere inches above yours.

"My God, you're a dirty fucking slut, aren't you?" He purred, smirking so wide it reached his eyes, his fingers bruising your scalp. "A dirty fucking slut whose sole purpose is to let me use her mouth whenever I want, yeah?"

You swallowed, wincing as he jerked your head back further, fucking into his fist faster, harder. "Yes, Mattheo..."

He sneered, clearly loving every fucking minute of this. "Imagine if anyone saw you like this...fuck-you're fucking filthy..." his voice was breathless, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to make himself cum before you had the chance to suck him off. "Apologize for being such a nasty little slut and I'll let you swallow my cum."

Your thighs clenched in need, your wetness seeping through your panties at this point. Gods, you wanted him so fucking bad you thought you were going to die.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, eyes wide as you peered up at him, nearly-speechless. "I'm sorry for being a nasty little slut."

"That's right..." he purred, directing the head of his cock toward your mouth, groaning as your pressed your lips to it. "Good girl...fuck-so good for me..."

Your entire body was in flame, hands still clasped together behind your back as both of his thrust tightly through your hair, absentmindedly sealing your lips around his shaft, revelling in his skin's heat, dragging your tongue along the throbbing, pulsing underside. Riddle growled, bucking his hips, and you took him further into your mouth, gagging as his tip slammed the back of your throat.

"You take me so well, Raven..." he breathed, head falling back on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as his hands urged your head along his length. "Can't believe a mouth that annoying can feel this fucking good."

You groaned in assent, sucking hard at his cock as he slowly started to fuck your throat. You were both struggling to breathe, both losing control, both lost in an ocean of primal, urgent carnality. Pleasure was straining your seams, ready to explode inside of you, drool dribbling in globs from your chin, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you tried to hold the boundaries of your sanity together.

"Mm, fuck..." Riddle's grip was crushing your skull. "I changed my mind…I'm gonna' cum on those perfect tits, princess..."

Your bones almost liquefied at this--but you steadied your knees, gagging as he started fucking into your throat faster, thrusting deep, your eyes disappearing into the back of your head as you allowed him to use your mouth as a helpless hole for him to fuck--singlehandedly loving every fucking second of it.

"Shit-" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck."

Your thighs clenched, brain fogged by a hurricane of lust, but when he pulled out, abruptly, your cognition returned--your vision clearing to an image of Riddle, red-faced, fucking his fist. Snarling, he jerked your hair, and choked on his moan, the sound stuttering while he shot the hot loads of his cum onto your chest and neck. He sucked down air in long, heavy breaths, waiting until the end of his release had dissipated, and then dropped you, stepping back to marvel at his masterpiece. You swore steam was wafting off your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pieced himself back together, buckling his belt. "Tell me how I taste."

Every inch of you tingled, chest heaving, jaw slack in an open pant. Keeping his stare, you brought a trembling hand to your chest, swiping his sticky cum off your tits and trailing it past your lips, slowly sucking it off your first two fingers. The taste melding with the mere prospect of what was happening elicited a low moan from your chest, and you shuddered, trapped in his gaze until you were finished.

"Salty." You teased, smirking up at him.

"Salty, huh?” He huffed, a devious grin on his face as he helped you up to your feet, rough palm grasping your forearm. "Important mineral for a balanced meal, yeah?"

You chuckled, heat swarming your skin as you stammered up to your feet, meeting his darkened eyes as you began buttoning up your shirt, taking in his newly flushed features--curly brown hair slightly sticking to his forehead before he ran a battered hand through it, brushing it back.

“Smartass,” you grumbled, turning toward the desk. “Next week we have an exam, so there won’t be a tutor session, you know that right?”

He released a breath, throwing himself into the usual creaky wooden chair beside yours. “Guess that just means you’ll have to do that again before the nights’ over,” he said. “You know, to compensate for next week.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide your smirk. “In your dreams, Riddle.”

“Oh, definitely not, princess.” He breathed, glimpsing you briefly. “In my dreams you do a hell of a lot more than that.”

——————

Chapter four->

#smut #fanfic #severus snape #harry potter #severus #severus smut #draco fanfic #lucius malfoy #mattheosmut #mattheoriddle #mattheo smut #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo #mattheo riddle #riddlesmut #theoriddlesmut #theodorenottsmut #tomriddle smut #riddle smut #theo riddle #theodore smut #tomriddlesmut #tom riddle smut #tom riddle #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut #theodore nott #draco smut

[star-girl69]

My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

complete!!

a/n: reader is ronal’s younger sister, aunt to tsireya and ao’nung. reader is metkayina, so she of course has all of those features. reader is described as having mid-length hair, though. eye color is not described, and i try my best to make everything as ambiguous as possible. (i apologize in advance if something i write isn’t inclusive. we are all humans and we all make mistakes! please feel free to tell me if you have any suggestions as to how i can cater this fic to the most people possible.)

also available on ao3!

my ao3: star_girl69

—-

In the safety of the Reef, you know no war. You only know your family, the feel of the ocean on your skin, the feel of the wind blowing through your hair. You know only simple things, the barely there shine of the sun, a reprieve from where you are covered by your sister. You are the moon and she is the sun, and you are destined to live like this. You had long since given up any hopes of a mate until the Forest People arrive, on their colorful flying ikrans.

Ronal does not like them. Tonowari respects them. Tsireya is entranced, Ao’nung sees them as new market to tease. With your family divided, you do not know how to feel about them. Until you See them, the parents of this family, Jake Sully and Neytiri, and the sun suddenly feels so much brighter.

But your heart never know the future. It is in the hands of Eywa, but you cannot give your heart to these strangers knowing it could hurt.

But, it seems this strange man and woman have other plans.

—-

My Heart Never Knows

Chapter One - Under My Ribs

Chapter Two - Painted Faces

Chapter Three - I Will Not Fall

Chapter Four - More, More

Chapter Five - Breathe

Chapter Six - Dance Anyways

Chapter Seven - To the Flames

Chapter Eight - Be My Dam

Chapter Nine - Breathing Fire

Chapter Ten - I Know You

Chapter Eleven - Everything

Chapter Twelve - Hear Their Song

Chapter Thirteen - The Web Falls

Chapter Fourteen - We Are Storms

Chapter Fifteen - Songcord

Chapter Sixteen - Stay Soft

Chapter Seventeen - Death Will Come

Chapter Eighteen - Think With Your Heart

Chapter Nineteen - Can’t Carry It With You

Chapter Twenty - To Fly

Chapter Twenty One - For Your Mother

Chapter Twenty Two - From My Ribs

Chapter Twenty Three - Belonging

Chapter Twenty Four - My Heart Never Knows

Chapter Twenty Five - Need

Chapter Twenty Six - My Heart Knows

—-

headcannons for this series:

y/n being lo’ak’s favorite parent

some tuk headcannons

lo’ak (+tuk!) sleeping on y/n

just lo’ak being y/n’s favorite

again, lo’ak and y/n are each other’s favorites

y/n if neteyam had a crush

y/n being tuk’s jungle gym

lo’ak asking y/n to sing to him

y/n being protective over kiri and lo’ak bc of their “demon blood”

tuk getting scared and running behind y/n when someone yells at her

y/n making sure her babies know that they’re her babies

y/n being pregnant

y/n spoiling her babies (+ jake and neytiri’s reaction!)

y/n, jake, and neytiri have date night. chaos ensues

y/n being hogged by her babies

ronal, tonowari, tsireya and ao’nung’s reaction to reader being pregnant (with a little sprinkling of the sully’s)

the kids reacting to their parents kissing

all the children wanting y/n to themselves

y/n making sure neteyam feels special and loved

lo’ak saying y/n is not his real mom

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Bound in Fire and Blood Series Masterlist [HIATUS]

Gif does not belong to me 💚

Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: You are the younger twin sister of Aemond Targaryen and the second youngest child to King Viserys and Queen Alicent. Growing up you were extremely close to your twin brother, practically inseparable and as you continued to grow, you realized your feelings for him were more than just a sibling love….

TRIGGER WARNING: This is a story of incest (obviously, it’s Game of Thrones). It contains strong depictions of sexual content and blood. Please read at your own risk.

• Chapter One: Bonded in Blood

• Chapter Two: The Red Flower

• Chapter Three: A Proposal

• Chapter Four: Sight of the Seven [M]

• Chapter Five: The Twin Dragons [M]

• Chapter Six: Dragon Dreams

• Chapter Seven: A Bastard Prince

• Chapter Eight: A Royal Feast

• Chapter Nine: Twin Flames

• Chapter Ten: Aegon the Conqueror

• Chapter Eleven: The Bedding Ceremony [M]

• Chapter Twelve: Of Ash and Flame

• Chapter Thirteen: First of Her Name

• Chapter Fourteen: Audience with the Queen

• Chapter Fifteen: Sixteenth Name Day

• Chapter Sixteen: The Small Council

• Chapter Seventeen: The Calm Before the Storm

• Chapter Eighteen: Then the Storm Broke…

• Chapter Nineteen: …And the Dragons Danced

• Chapter Twenty: Kinslayer

• Chapter Twenty-One: An Eye for an Eye

• Chapter Twenty-Two: A Sonf for a Son

• Chapter Twenty-Three: Descent into Madness

• ANNOUNCEMENT

🔥Extra Chapters🔥

Below is a series of noncanon mini chapters to BIFAB. I am accepting ideas, feel free to submit one through my ask box. 💚

• Fifteenth Name Day

{tagged readers: ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨ || @50svibes || @alexandra-001 || @ateliefloresdaprimavera || @bellameshipper || @billihill || @bravado07 || @bregarc || @bubblebuttwade || @claudie-080102 || @clairacassidy || @chiyausu || @chosogb ||@daddysfavoritesexkitten || @darylandbethfanforever9 || @deadgirldreaming || @derzauberermitlilabademantel || @eddies-bat-tattoos || @hansensunshine || @hhjhbhh || @highexpectationsgurl || @kaitieskidmore1 || @ladybug0095 || @l1-l4 || @mendes-bae || @mirandastuckinthe80s || @m00n5t0n3 || @multitargaryen || @muthafuckingstargirl || @neenieweenie || @princessmiaelicia || @riddlewithanxiety || @sakuramadae || @thegirlwithoutaname87 || @watermel0nsugarhigh || @whenmypartysover || @xcharlottemikaelsonx || @yckaar || @zgzgzh }

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #hbo hotd #hbo house of the dragon #prince aemond #house targaryen #targaryen #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #prince aemond targaryen #Aemond targaryen story #Aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x sister!reader #Aemond targaryen x you #Aemond targaryen x y/n #Aemond targaryen x twin!reader #Aemond targaryen x Fem reader

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen: Let’s Do This Right

Plot: Jamie and Y/n settle into their new relationship and Ted makes a shocking announcement.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: f!reader, allusion to smut, light innuendo, language

A/N: We are finally over the angst hump and into happier times 🥰 Thanks y’all for sticking through the storm 😂 Hope you guys enjoy this one! We’re almost done 😭

—————

Waking up sober with the man you loved was an entirely different experience than doing it drunk.

Y/n traced the sharp edges of Jamie’s face as he slept, content to stare at him forever. He was snoring lightly, his face twitched every once in a while indicating he was probably dreaming. It was peace beyond what she could fathom.

It had been three days since the Man City match and the two of them had barely left the house. Jamie was cleared of any injury by day #2, but he swore on his life that he needed Y/n to stay in case he relapsed. She’d pointed out that an unbroken, un-sprained, un-fractured ankle had a slim chance of backsliding. Jamie’s rebuttal consisted of viciously attacking her with his lips on the couch. They made the mutual decision she’d stay in the name of recovery.

Jamie’s eyes drowsily opened, landing on Y/n. “Watching me sleep again?”

“Mm-hm,” her smile was lazy.

“Creep,” Jamie teased, rolling onto his back and rubbing at his eyes. He didn’t think there was a better thing to wake up to than her eyes on him.

“Part of the perk package,” Y/n shrugged.

Jamie turned back onto his side, tugging his girlfriend to him. “Thought you were scared of me,” he said, his voice was gravelly with sleep.

Y/n reached up and ran her fingers over his cheek. “Terrified,” she whispered playfully.

Ignoring the morning breath sensation, Jamie captured her lips in a slow kiss. They hadn’t done much else for 72 hours. For all the weeks he’d pined for her, Jamie was enjoying not having to hold back any longer.

Y/n hummed against the kiss, ever the more sensible of them. “We can’t be late,” she said in between kisses.

“We can be late,” Jamie rolled on top of her.

“No,” Y/n elongated the syllable, “We cannot. How many times has Ted called a full staff meeting?”

Jamie deepened his kisses, trying his best to derail her train of thought. “Loads of times.”

Y/n was unable to challenge the lie with Jamie’s mouth glued to hers. She pressed a hand to his chest and pushed, which only made Jamie hold her tighter.

“Jamie-“

“It’s gonna be some team motivational shit,” he argued, tracing her form through the borrowed t-shirt of his, “West Ham’s next weekend. We’ll be doin’ trust falls and watching movies about friendship. We can miss it.”

Just as he was going in for another kiss, Y/n slid her hand between their lips.

“Then we’d better get there before all the good partners are taken,” she countered, pecking Jamie’s nose before slipping out from under him.

Jamie groaned dramatically and fell face-first into the pillows. If everyone else had been second priority when Y/n and him were just friends, nothing and nobody fucking mattered now that they were together.

“Get up,” Y/n ordered as she padded across the floor to Jamie’s dresser. She’d convinced him to let her go home once to grab clothes.

“Fine,” Jamie moaned, flopping onto his back, “But the second it’s done, we’re comin’ right back here,” he drilled his finger into the bed. “We can’t chance my recovery.”

Y/n laughed, looking back at the mess of a man watching her every move. Hair falling in his face, sleepy eyed and pouting, he’d never looked more perfect.

“Deal.”

—————————

Word had spread quickly around Nelson Road that there was a new couple alert.

Jamie and Y/n entered the building hand in hand, giggling to themselves over something he’d said, and were welcomed to a flood of congratulations. From the physios to the security guards, everyone seemed to be taking joy in the two of them finally getting together.

Jamie held the door open as they entered the press room. Any and all conversations came to a halt, all their friends and teammates hooting and hollering at their appearance. Y/n rolled her eyes but grinned through the whole thing. Just before taking a seat with the boys, Jamie kissed her and the whole room exploded. Y/n shoved him away, sharing a sensational smile as they separated.

“So,” Rebecca said teasingly, “He allowed you two to leave the house.”

“She hasn’t answered one of my texts since we got back,” Keeley interjected, coming to stand on the other side of Y/n, “Been busy nursing him back to health, have you?”

Y/n could feel her cheeks heating up and kept her eyes focused ahead of her. Jamie was fielding several high fives and back slaps from the boys. “This is a workplace,” she tried to pull her lips straight.

“Of course. You want to focus on work,” Keeley nodded, “I’m sure it’s been very stressful, making sure Jamie’s comfortable, attending to all his needs.”

Rebecca snorted quite loudly.

“I hate you both,” Y/n tried her hardest not to giggle.

Before any more innuendos could be birthed, Y/n spotted a face on the far end of the room she’d only ever seen through screens.

Nathan Shelley.

“So Jamie wasn’t kidding,” she commented. The team’s text chain had spilled the news that Ted was rehiring their former coach. “Excuse me.”

Y/n walked the edge of the room, stopping in front of Nate, who looked a bit nervous. “Hi,” she stuck her hand out, “We haven’t met yet. I’m Y/n.”

“Oh,” Nate smiled, “Nathan. Ted told me you took over for Keeley.”

“Yeah,” she replied sweetly, “I’ve been handling PR, helping the boys out with interviews…dealing with unpleasant headlines created by other club’s coaches.”

Nate’s face dropped, he swallowed hard. “Oh.”

Y/n crinkled her nose, “Yeah.”

“I-I do want to apologize if I made your job a-any harder,” Nate stuttered, pulling his now sweaty palm from Y/n’s grip, “It’s uh, it’s a bit complicated but-“

“Look,” Y/n kindly stopped him, “Clearly a lot of things went down before I ever got here. If Ted trusts you, I trust Ted. Just,” her stare turned more somber, “Don’t fuck with us again.”

Nate shook his head quickly, “No. Never.”

“Good,” Y/n smiled and patted Nate’s shoulder, “Glad you’re here.”

Y/n turned on her heel and returned to her spot. Nate didn’t feel threatened so much as firmly reminded that if he ever lashed out at AFC Richmond again, there was one more person who would be displeased with him.

Just then, Ted stepped up to the front of the room, Beard in tow. “Alright, chatty Kathys and Kens. Let’s press pause on the small talk.”

The room’s attention redirected to the head coach.

“Now, first off, let me take a minute to congratulate y’all again on our win against Man City,” Ted started, everyone clapped and whistled on cue, “Took a heck of a lot of effort from you boys, and I’m proud of every one of ya.”

The boys seated around Jamie slapped him on the shoulder. He’d all but clinched the win for them.

“Second,” Ted hesitated, “Coach Beard and I’ve got a little announcement we wanted y’all to know about first.”

One minute, the room was all smiles and laughter it was just another average Tuesday.

The next, the floor had been ripped out from beneath each one of them.

Y/n’s eyes were glued to Ted, waiting for the punchline of whatever joke he was telling. He was creating the world’s longest fake out and in seconds, he’d grin reassuringly.

When Ted’s gaze crossed hers, giving a brief but resigned smile, Y/n realized it was real.

She looked up to Rebecca, who was caught between a frown and an even deeper one. She already knew.

Ted explained the details of it all, no one asked any questions. For once, every part of AFC Richmond was rendered speechless.

—————————

Y/n and Jamie drove home in silence. They’d made plans to return to work the next day. Jamie needed to get in all the practice he could, Y/n and Keeley had to handle Ted’s announcement. Life had to return to normal.

They went their separate ways once they got back to Jamie’s place. Jamie headed for the bathroom while Y/n dragged into the kitchen. They’d left happy with the promise of a long and lazy day spent at home. The change in plans was unspoken.

Y/n leaned against the counter, crossing her arms across her chest. Here she’d thought everything had just settled. Jamie, work, a chance at the Premier League title…

Jamie emerged a second later, padding over to the refrigerator. He reached in and grabbed a drink.

Y/n sighed, “I’ll start lunch in a bit.”

“Sure,” Jamie nodded, his gaze was focused on…nothing. He started to walk off to aimlessly wander the next part of the house.

“Jamie,” Y/n pushed off the counter, reaching for his hand before he could escape.

He turned around, still unable to meet her eyes. It wasn’t until she guided his chin up that the red veins around his pupils became visible.

In sync, Jamie and Y/n slid their arms around one another. Nothing needed to be said.

—————————

While England was having a tremendous reaction to the news that Ted Lasso was departing AFC Richmond at the end of the season, business at Nelson Road Stadium went on as usual.

Most of it was because people didn’t want to acknowledge that Ted was leaving. The boys didn’t really talk about it, Rebecca flat out refused to discuss it. Even Y/n was touchy about the subject, quickly changing the topic when a KJPR client mentioned how sad it was. No one wanted to deal with their feelings on the matter.

Y/n and Keeley carpooled from the office over to Nelson Road, discussing how well Ted’s recent press conference had gone. With Y/n no longer in hiding, their weekly meetings with Higgins and Rebecca had returned to their normal rhythm, relaxed and upbeat. This time, they were seated around Rebecca’s couch, going over a very interesting piece of news that had recently broke.

“The press are asking if you have any comments about Rupert’s divorce,” Keeley looked to Rebecca.

“Yes, of course,” Rebecca hummed as she scrolled her phone, “But no, no comment.”

“Classy,” Higgins nodded.

“Smart move,” Y/n agreed.

“Moving on,” Keeley said firmly, “Leslie, Y/n and I are asking if you have any comments on Rupert’s divorce.”

Rebecca sighed and eyed each one of her colleagues.

“Juicier the better,” Higgins gestured around them, “Safe space.”

“Also no comment,” Rebecca replied.

Keeley, Y/n and Higgins voiced their disappointment with boos and raspberries.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Rebecca smiled, “I just genuinely don’t care anymore.”

“Yes, but can you care for just two seconds,” Y/n begged from her spot on the couch, “I don’t even know what happened!”

“Well, perhaps if you hadn’t been using personal days on a certain someone,” Rebecca fired back, smirking, “You’d have gotten the story.”

Y/n gasped in mock offense, while Keeley laughed and poked at Y/n’s knee with her pen.

“I might need to be filled in on that one as well,” Higgins said to Y/n, “Again, safe space.”

“Next order of business,” Y/n ended the conversation.

Higgins took out his own notebook, turning serious. “We need to talk about who we’re hiring to replace Ted. I’ve made a list of the usual suspects,” he got up and handed the book to Rebecca, “And I threw in a basketball coach from New Zealand just to spice it up a bit.”

“Hey,” Y/n shrugged, “It worked once before.”

Rebecca glanced down at the list, her face a bevy of mixed emotions. “Right,” she set the papers down, “I can’t think about that yet.”

“Okay,” Higgins said, sensing her tone, “After the season then. Oh, last thing from me. On a happier note, now that we have a guaranteed spot in the Champions League next season…”

The four of them squealed together, waving their hands wildly.

“We have had many requests to buy a piece of the club,” Higgins continued, “Our value is at an all-time high, so it’s worth considering,” he gestured to Rebecca, “You give up 49%, retain full control and make a huge pile of cash. We can buy more players, renovate the stadium.”

“Ooh,” Keeley straightened up, “Maybe we can get some of those fancy seats. The ones with the heaters like they have at Tottenham.”

“Ooh, they’re amazing,” Higgins agreed, “In February. You see, I accidentally turned mine on last summer and nearly melted my bottom crack together.”

The women went silent.

“Think about it anyway,” he finished, “It’s only 49%.”

Rebecca was already running it through her head. “Leslie,” she called him back, “How much would I get if I sold the entire club?”

Y/n’s eyes bulged, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Rebecca,” Keeley scolded her boss, “You can’t sell the club.”

“Why not?” Rebecca shrugged, “I mean, I only got into this to ruin Rupert’s life. And he seems to be doing a pretty good job of that himself.”

Keeley and Y/n shared a worried glance.

“So come on, Leslie,” Rebecca lifted her tea cup, “How much?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Higgins cautiously reentered the room, “Off the top of my head, I’d say two billion.”

Tea sprayed out of Rebecca’s mouth all over the table, hitting most of Y/n and Keeley’s papers. Not that any of them noticed.

“Fuck me,” Rebecca breathed.

Suddenly, Y/n had a whole new concern to add to her list. If Rebecca sold the club, the whole structure would change. Players could be traded, the entire staff could change, KJPR could be looked at as too much of a risk and dropped. The decision would leave no part of AFC Richmond untouched.

A text alert pulled Y/n out of her spiraling thoughts.

Roy Kent: It’s time.

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled, “I’ve got to take care of something.”

“Are you coming back to the office?” Keeley asked.

“Yeah,” Y/n grabbed her purse, “Don’t leave without me.”

She hurried out of Rebecca’s office and down the stairs. Jamie had let her in on a surprise the boys had planned as a going away gift for Ted and Beard. They’d all been working tirelessly on it and after witnessing rehearsals, she had to see the final product.

Y/n got to the pitch just as Roy announced the end of their last practice with three coaches. She snuck through the gates to the fan-packed stands and took a seat behind Trent. Pulling out her phone, she hit record and aimed the camera toward the pitch.

A clang of a bell rang loud through the air, Will’s boombox positioned on the water table. The boys were lined up behind Sam and Isaac, crouched and waiting for their cue.

What happened next could only be experienced in person. The Greyhounds performed their rendition of ‘So Long, Farewell’ from The Sound of Music. They were perfectly on pitch, their choreography was flawless, and took visible pride in hitting their marks. By the time Dani finished his solo and the boys waved and sang ‘goodbye’ in harmony, Y/n found her eyes were watery.

“Thank you, fellas,” Ted said once it was over, “That was perfect.”

The team and the fans broke out into cheers. Y/n moved her phone to capture the pandemonium that apparently came whenever grown men completed a musical number. Had it not been for the witnesses, it would have been too insane to believe.

Afterwards, Y/n met Keeley inside, ready to head back to the office. She was carrying pink fuzz trimmed gift bags in each hand.

“You know I can say these are from both of us,” Keeley offered as they strolled down the hall.

“No,” Y/n repeated the same answer she’d already given, “It’s a sign of protest.”

“Fine,” Keeley relented as they passed Nate, “Hey, Nate.”

“Hey, Keeley, Y/n,” the assistant kitman greeted them, “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Keeley answered for both of them, “It’s so good to have you back.”

Nate nodded, “Thank you. It’s really good to be back.”

The women rounded the corner to the coach’s office, cutting past Trent and Roy’s desks.

“Hi,” Keeley greeted her ex.

“Hey,” Roy spun around in his seat.

Y/n chortled as she passed him, smirking knowingly. As much as Keeley had pressed her for details on her and Jamie, she’d also revealed a few key developments between her and Roy.

“Hello, boys,” Keeley approached Ted and Beard’s desks.

“Hey, Keeley, Y/n,” Ted smiled, eyes darting to the gift bags, “Uh-oh. What do we got here?”

“A little last-day present. One for you,” Keeley set one down on Ted’s desk before Beard’s, “And one for you. Don’t,” she jumped, “Open that before you get on the plane!”

Both men threw their hands up in surrender.

“Or better yet,” she softened her tone, “Just don’t get on the plane.”

“Thanks, guys,” Ted and Beard both said.

“Oh no,” Keeley placed her hands on Y/n’s shoulders, “These are very much my gifts.”

Y/n smiled sweetly, “I don’t give gifts to traitors.”

Ted laughed understandingly. Y/n was less than thrilled with their decision.

“I respect that,” Beard nodded.

Following Keeley into the locker room, Y/n and Beard shared a high five.

“Is everybody decent?” Keeley asked the boys, uncovering her eyes before Y/n did to a fully clothed room. “Aw, one of these days, right? Okay, remember, you’ve got your extra press session tomorrow at noon.”

“Which does not mean 12:15,” Y/n interjected, “There’s no such thing as fashionably late when you’re all wearing the same thing.”

“And you’re confident,” Keeley instructed while the two of them crossing the room, “Generous. Excited,” she threw her arms in the air, “You’re fucking legends!”

The room erupted into cheers. Not only were the boys hyped for the match and all that was attached to it, they genuinely loved having Keeley and Y/n around.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Y/n smiled as they exited into the hallway.

“And to think,” Keeley elbowed her friend, “You almost missed it.”

Y/n rolled her eyes just before a pair of arms yanked her backwards and into the air. She yelped before recognizing the familiar grip.

“Should I assume you’re staying here for the day?” Keeley smiled, watching Jamie spin Y/n around.

“No,” Y/n grunted, “This will be very quick.”

“No, it won’t,” Jamie called to Keeley as she left the two of them to their moment. He set Y/n down but kept his arms round her waist.

“Well, that was professional,” Y/n teased, settling her hands to his chest.

Jamie shrugged, “It ain’t like nobody knows.”

“Yes, well, there’s still rules.” Y/n adjusted a stray hair that was slipping out his headband. “The dance went well, yeah?”

“Yeah, think we crushed it,” Jamie smiled proudly, “You got it on video?”

“Every second,” Y/n nodded, “It’ll go locked away in my vault of special Greyhound Only media.”

Jamie laughed, the lads and him had worked hard to nail the choreography. There needed to be proof, however secret.

“So Roy invited me out tonight for a beer,” he switched topics.

Y/n pulled back and grew mockingly serious, “That goes against the Jamie Tartt Diet Plan.”

“He said that since I’m with him, I get a pass.”

“Well, that would’ve been nice to know he was so lenient before he made me tape the pre-approved food list to my fridge,” Y/n remarked. Wherever Roy knew Jamie would be, he made sure training followed.

“So you’re okay if I go?” Jamie asked.

“Of course,” Y/n replied, a little puzzled, “You didn’t think you needed to ask my permission, did you?”

“No, just-“ Jamie’s fidgeting thumbs rubbed lines into Y/n’s waist. “It’s been kinda nice, just me and you. Just wanted to make sure you were cool with it.”

And it had been nice. Shutting the world out for the days after the Manchester match, coming home to one another after work, getting to explore the new territory of their relationship. It was heaven and it warmed Y/n’s heart that it clearly meant as much to Jamie as it did her.

Without any care for if they were alone or not, Y/n pulled Jamie in for a soft kiss. She smoothed her fingers against his cheek as they broke apart, Jamie kept his eyes shut and rubbed his lips together.

“Go have fun,” she smiled, “I’m always here, but Roy’s kindness is fleeting.”

Jamie chuckled and adjusted his gaze to his girlfriend. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/n beamed.

With a final peck, the two of them headed in opposite directions, Jamie back to the locker room and Y/n out to Keeley’s car. Even though it had only been a few days, Y/n was bewildered that there’d been a time where the three words they exchanged so freely were impossible to fathom.

—————————

With the sun setting on him, Ted nudged a ball along the training pitch. Nearly everyone had gone home, but he was taking his time saying goodbye to the place he’d called home the last three years.

“Y’know, I’m mad at you.”

Ted turned around to see Y/n, leaned against the wall. The small smile she wore contradicted her words.

“Oh no,” Ted smiled back, “What’d I do?”

“You give me this whole speech last week about how people here won’t leave me,” Y/n sighed, trying to keep her voice steady, “And then you go and do the very thing.”

Ted’s smile changed with sympathy. Y/n hadn’t pulled away like usual when she felt something big, she’d just been quieter. Still present, but withdrawn. It was nice to hear her admit the problem so quickly.

He walked across the pitch and sat down on the concrete, gesturing for her to join him.

“I’m also very jealous of Henry,” Y/n continued as she took a seat next to Ted, “To have a dad who’d move across the country to try and help their family, then move right back the second you say you miss him.”

The real reason for Ted’s departure had been spoken of privately. If anyone didn’t understand, they did after hearing it.

“Y’know he’s still talkin’ about gettin’ to play coach for a day,” Ted lightened the mood.

Y/n chuckled, that had been a good day. “He’s definitely got a future in sports.”

They let silence come naturally, waiting for the words to present themselves.

“You know, I haven’t thanked you for everything,” Y/n looked down at her lap, her hands fidgeting. “Everything you’ve done for me. If you hadn’t smacked me upside the head, I wouldn’t have come back here. I wouldn’t have the boys, Keeley, Rebecca…I certainly wouldn’t have figured things out with Jamie.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Ted clicked his tongue, “I think you and Jamie would have found y’all’s way to one another no matter what.”

“No, Ted,” Y/n turned to him, her eyes sober with seriousness, “I would have never had the guts to say what I said. I would have watched him fall for someone else and it would have been…” she shuddered at the thought, “Miserable.”

It was the truth. Y/n and Jamie may have taken the steps but if Ted hadn’t knocked on Y/n’s hotel door, nothing would have come to be.

“I owe you a lot, Ted,” Y/n continued, looking between their bodies, “Thank you.”

Ted’s eyes turned misty. He never quite knew what to do when people praised him. He never felt like he did enough to earn it. He also saw the potential in Y/n that had come from opening herself up.

“Well, you’re welcome,” he replied.

“Any plans for what you’ll do when you get back?” Y/n asked.

Ted exhaled, “I dunno. Didn’t know what I was doin’ here, coaching soccer. Maybe I’ll try something else new. Maybe lacrosse or rugby.”

“Or pickleball,” Y/n added.

“There you go,” Ted smiled, the two of them sharing a laugh, “Whole word of possibilities.”

The sky was turning dark fast, the golden glow illuminating the pitch gleaming for the last time.

“Y’know the best part about family’s that,” Ted nudged Y/n, “It don’t matter where in the world you are. It’s still a family.”

Y/n smiled sadly, tracing the last visible edge of the sun. It had been nearly a week since she’d left the shocking voicemail to her parents. Not a word from either.

“That helps a little.”

“And you gotta promise me you’ll keep the patriotism goin’,” Ted grinned, “Confuse the heck outta this country.”

Y/n laughed. Her, Ted and Beard could be their own trio at times. The three Americans.

“I will,” she looked up at Ted, “Promise me we’ll win this weekend?”

Maybe at the beginning of the season, each member of AFC Richmond had different motivations for wanting to win. Rebecca wanted revenge against Rupert, Y/n simply wanted to work at a successful club, the boys had wanted to prove their critics wrong, and Ted wasn’t much concerned at all with victory. Now they felt united. Everyone wanted to win for Richmond.

Ted and Y/n grinned. It was unspoken that the only guarantee was that Ted and the team would get it their all. That was all that was needed.

Finally, Y/n rose to leave. “You heading out? I can give you a ride.”

“I think I’m gonna stick around a little longer,” Ted answered, letting his eyes drift fondly around him.

Y/n nodded and saved the memory in her mind. A coach on his pitch one last time.

“Goodnight, Coach,” she said, turning to leave.

Ted watched her walk off towards the car lot. Her future at AFC Richmond was brighter than she even knew.

“‘Night, Y/n.”

—————————

With the season wrapping up, Y/n’s evenings were free from working overtime. And with her new outlook on life, doing nothing was actually enjoyable.

She was in the middle of catching up on a show when there was a knock at the door. She headed downstairs and peered out the peephole, pleasantly surprised at the sight of her boyfriend.

“Hi,” she greeted as she opened the door, “Roy cancel?”

“No, I’m just coming back,” Jamie answered.”

“Oh,” Y/n leaned against the doorframe, “You two have fun?”

The single drink he’d been allowed hadn’t lasted Jamie longer than two minutes. But the kinship with Roy was the real highlight. “Yeah,” he smiled, “Yeah, it was good.”

“Good,” Y/n grinned, glancing back at the stairs, “Well, you’ve missed nothing but tv of questionable quality and crap takeout so-“

“Actually,” Jamie hesitated, knocking his fists together, “I wanted to ask you somethin’.”

Y/n waited for him to continue.

“I think we should go out. On a date.”

“A date,” Y/n repeated.

“Yeah,” Jamie nodded, his nervous eyes scanning her face, “What do you think?”

Y/n laughed, “I mean, we’ve kind of done this whole thing backwards.”

“I know,” Jamie closed his eyes and rubbed at his face, “I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to ask or what but…I wanna do this right. Us.”

Jamie’d had many short-lived relationships and meaningless flings. He’d never tended to any of them, preferring to let them fizzle out when he got bored or he fucked up enough to make them leave. Keeley had been the last one to do so and it had left a lasting impression on Jamie. Now with Y/n, so precious to him, he was taking great pains to make sure this was the one that stuck.

“I’d love to,” Y/n smiled warmly.

Jamie’s grin was boyish, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Name the time and place, I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

Y/n gestured behind her, “Are you coming up?”

“Eh,” Jamie paused, thinking the decision over, “Not tonight,” he met Y/n’s eyes, “Tryin’ to do this right.”

The whole of their relationship had been so unconventional. They’d practically lived together the first few days, said ‘I love you’ more than some couples did in a year and saw each other nearly every hour at work. A little structure wasn’t a bad idea to start out with.

“Fine with me,” she beamed, “Go get some rest.”

“I will,” Jamie replied, sparing one more look at his girlfriend before heading down the steps, “Night.”

“Goodnight,” Y/n said softly.

She’d just turned on her heel, beginning to shut the door when Jamie rushed back up the steps, reached for Y/n’s wrist and tugged her to him. They both smiled into a passionate kiss.

—————————

Jamie had been very strict in not giving Y/n any hints on what their first date would be. He’d texted her an address, told her not to Google it, and said to arrive at 7PM.

And so, right on the dot, Y/n showed up in a white floral dress and sneakers to a spot in Richmond. Stood outside a large pair of gates was Jamie, hair swept to the side, in a blue dress shirt and pants.

“I didn’t Google,” Y/n held her hands up, “Promise.”

“You look fucking incredible,” Jamie said, a little dumbstruck. He came to meet Y/n halfway and held her waist, “Shit.”

Y/n slid a hand over his shoulder and up his neck, “I’m not sure I want to be with someone who’s got such a foul mouth.”

Jamie matched her smirk, “Fuck off.”

They slid into a slow, easy kiss, one they knew if they didn’t break would become the main event of the night.

“You gonna finally tell me what we’re doing?” Y/n asked when they pulled away.

“Come on,” Jamie teased, taking her hand, “I know it’s killing you not knowing what’s going on.”

They entered through the gates. “Oh, you know,” Y/n said casually, “I only wanna break into hives a little bit.”

Jamie chortled, he loved pushing her out of her comfort zone. It wasn’t very hard.

They walked a short tree-lined path and passed a small lake before a massive glass building revealed itself. Surrounding it was pristine cut grass and gorgeous beds of flowers.

“Wow,” Y/n muttered.

“Welcome to Kew Gardens,” Jamie announced, his soft tone matching the mood.

Y/n shook her head distractedly, “I’ve never been here. Always meant to come but…I never really had a reason.”

Jamie smiled as he watched her take it all in. “Well,” he adjusted her hand in his, “Now you do.”

Turning them around, Jamie led Y/n towards the rose garden where there was a candlelit table set in the middle. Nearby were two waiters, waiting with a cart of food.

Jamie pulled out Y/n’s chair and helped her slide in, taking his own seat after.

Y/n glanced around them, suddenly aware of the silence. “Did you…close this place down for us?”

Jamie shrugged playfully, “One of the perks of bein’ famous.”

The waiters strode over, placing a plate in front of each of them. Where Y/n’s had some sort of pasta, Jamie’s was a plain chicken breast and wild rice.

“Well, the food’s certainly not a competition,” Y/n remarked, trying not to laugh.

“Home stretch,” Jamie replied. He didn’t suspect he’d change much about Roy’s regiment after the season ended, but he fucking missed food.

Y/n bobbed her head, “Then it’s, what, waking up at 10AM and gorging on sugary cereals?”

Jamie looked up from his plate, dropping his fork. He pointed to Y/n, “That’s the first thing we do on Monday.”

She laughed, covering her full mouth with her napkin.

“I’m serious,” Jamie continued.

Y/n shook her head at him in adoration.

Things grew quiet quickly, the two of them eating and their minds drifting suddenly to what Monday would bring.

“It’s gonna be weird,” Y/n observed as her eyes traced the nearest rose bed, “With Ted gone.”

Jamie lowered his gaze down to his plate. They had yet to talk about their feelings on Ted’s departure. The news had affected them in different ways. Jamie had finally found a coach who, despite many personality differences, he could count on. Ted had seen the best in him when there wasn’t much to see. He’d always be grateful for that.

And Y/n, though she’d tried with all her might, hadn’t been able to keep Ted out of her heart. He was the best of the home she’d tried to erase. He’d become her biggest guide through her time at Richmond.

“Yeah,” Jamie agreed.

Y/n’s eyes darted between her plate and Jamie. “A lot’s changing. Ted, the Champion’s League…”

Jamie smiled up at her.

“Couple other things…” Y/n matched his expression fleetingly, “You know, we haven’t actually…talked about anything…about us.”

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Jamie settled back in his chair. “Guess not. But…” he shrugged his head, “Is there anything to talk about?”

There couldn’t have been a more perfect example of the contrast between them. Jamie thought with his heart, Y/n with her head.

“Manchester.”

Y/n’s answer came the second Jamie finished his sentence. As soon as they’d come out of their cocoon and back to real life, the topic had started eating at her. The night at Georgie and Simon’s hadn’t been spoken of.

Jamie’s face tensed, though he tried to hide it. He wanted to put that whole night behind them. They were fine now.

“Jamie, what I said to you was…” Y/n paused, tears beginning to build, “Awful. I didn’t mean them and I still said them-“

“But it’s fine,” he reached across the table and took her hand, “Look at us. I think we recovered.”

“Jamie.”

At her insisting eyes, Jamie’s facade faded. Their long friendship allowed them to read each other better than most new couples.

“Yeah, okay,” Jamie admitted softly, “It sucked.”

She was glad he’d said it, truly, even if it only made her guilt more real.

“But…” Jamie sighed, “It’s not like I don’t understand why you did it. I’ve kicked a lot of people outta me life because I didn’t wanna let ‘em…” he waved around his chest, “See all the shit.”

“I know,” Y/n whispered, squeezing his hand, “But I shouldn’t have said it. I was scared and overwhelmed and…”

She drew a deep breath, shutting her eyes and waiting for the oxygen to bring strength. Jamie held her hand the whole time.

“I’ve never loved anybody like I love you,” Y/n said, locking eyes with Jamie, “I kept it that way because I didn’t want to get hurt. And then you show up and just…” she smiled, “Mess up all my plans.”

Jamie chuckled, ducking his head briefly.

“And when I realized that, it terrified me because you already had me,” she continued, “You knew me. I just felt…exposed. So instead of dealing with my shit, I hurt you. And I don’t know how I’m ever going to forgive myself for it but,” she bristled at herself, sniffling, “I just need you to know how much I regret it.”

Jamie was, for once, struck utterly speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so cared for. The delicacy and devotion Y/n treated him with was new to him, regardless of how long they’d been friends. He hadn’t doubted her, not since the moment she’d stormed into the med room and told her she loved him, but this was just further confirmation that it was the real thing.

“I think you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Y/n’s watery smile finally broke, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“I know we’re both fucked,” Jamie said, “It’s the truth. And I know I’m probably gonna mess this up a lot, but…I wanna try. Really try at this.”

Y/n only knew Jamie before she’d arrived through headlines and interviews. The man sitting in front of her, pouring his heart out, stroking her hand with his thumb didn’t resemble him in the slightest. She knew every syllable was intended with the most sincerity possible.

“You say ‘try’ like I’m ever gonna let you go,” Y/n chuckled.

“Fuck no,” Jamie’s face shifted seriously, “I just mean…I’m gonna try and be the best I can for you.”

“Me too,” Y/n agreed, smoothing her fingers over his knuckles, “I’m gonna fuck this up a lot too.”

Jamie chuckled, “You don’t fuck anything up.”

“I almost fucked this up,” she pointed between them.

“Fine, fine,” Jamie relented, playfully smirking, “Love confessions and turkeys. Those’re your fuck ups.”

Finally, Y/n laughed with might, naturally making Jamie do the same.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Jamie assured, gazing at her so confidently, Y/n’s fear couldn’t react at all.

“Yeah,” she smiled.

Jamie peered around them, brushing over the beauty of the gardens. “I know I got all this together but…I’ve got an idea.”

Y/n let him help her out of her seat and lead her off into the night. She wasn’t going to analyze anything to death about them. Jamie was her spontaneity.

He drove them through Richmond until they were on an all-too familiar road making an all-too familiar turn into an all-too familiar car lot.

After tipping Renee heavily to turn on the lights, Jamie and Y/n were in the stadium, Jamie kicking balls into the net. Y/n sat in the coach’s dugout.

“When’d you know?” She called.

Jamie lined up the ball, it was difficult to move properly in dress pants. “After Wembley. But looking back,” he paused, filing through the memories, “Probably ‘round that time we went out clubbing and that dick came up to you. Just felt wrong to see you with someone else.”

“Yeah, you were a bit weird that night,” Y/n recalled the jealousy, but not the poor soul’s name.

“Like you were any better about me and Keeley,” Jamie chuckled, making another goal.

“I wasn’t weird” Y/n insisted, her voice’s pitch shot up, “It was just…new information.”

Jamie was cheesing hard, reveling in the memory of her stumbling and stuttering and insisting it was fine. “Was that it for you?”

“It was certainly the first sign that something was wrong,” Y/n adjusted in what was typically Roy’s seat, “But I think Wembley was…I don’t know. My life was in the toilet, I thought I’d lost my job and all this,” she waved around her, “But being there with you, cheering you on…it felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. You made me forget about all that stuff.”

Jamie had stopped, giving Y/n his full attention.

“But looking back, it probably happened way before that,” Y/n shifted, suddenly nervous over the vulnerability.

“I think I know my moment,” Jamie declared.

“Hmm?”

“It was after that match where Isaac jumped that fan,” Jamie took a few steps closer, there was still feet of distance between them, “And you came over that night. We’d had this, uh,” he hesitated, “This talk in the locker room and I just realized how lucky I was to have you in my life. And then I realized…I wanted to be with you all the time.”

Y/n stayed quiet, awestruck.

“So if you think you ain’t ever letting me go,” Jamie turned around, nailed another goal and came right back, “I promise I’m gonna be worse.”

“I’m okay with that,” Y/n beamed, “God, I was so set on not dating a footballer and now look. You’ve made a WAG of me.”

“Stupid fucking word,” Jamie made a face, “Maybe I can be the WAG. The…HAB.”

Y/n laughed hard enough that she snorted.

“What? You’re a badass. I’d make fucking great arm candy,” he smiled, glancing back to the goal. “You coming? I didn’t bring you here so I could practice.”

“Right,” Y/n hopped off her seat and crossed the pitch, “You’d better step back because that kid’s league training ‘s gonna whip your ass with a vengeance.”

Jamie rolled the ball to her and Y/n caught it under her foot. She nudged it into position in front of the goal and took a breath. She was ready to kick when-

“Hang on,” Jamie interrupted, looking down at her with such intense focus, “Your posture’s all off. Let me-“

He proceeded to press his body flush against Y/n’s, getting a cackle out of her.

“This is not golf,” she remarked.

“You gotta correct mistakes like this straightaway,” Jamie held her hips, speaking over her shoulder, “Could affect you in the long term.”

“Oh, well,” Y/n twisted in Jamie’s hold to look at him, “My Premier League future rests in the balance.”

“Exactly,” Jamie lined his lips up with the shell of her ear, “You’re gonna wind it back, keep your foot steady, don’t flinch at the contact, and fuckin’ send it.”

Jamie shifted a few inches to avoid Y/n’s leg. She took a second to visualize the ball going in the net, swung her leg back and kicked the ball with all her strength.

It flew straight in.

They erupted in cheers loud enough to make anyone near think Richmond had won the whole fucking thing. Jamie crouched down in front of Y/n, giving her the opportunity to jump on his back. He ran them around the pitch, the two of them screaming and laughing like children.

In two days time, the pitch would be filled by two teams. The seats would be packed with fans. Richmond’s destiny would be decided.

But for the night, it belonged to Y/n and Jamie. The place they’d fallen in love without ever realizing it.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #keeley jones x reader #rebecca welton x reader #heartfirst

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (19/23)

Chapter summary: "A person can love you with all their heart and not be any good at it."

Chapter word count: 7.5k+ | Tags: Angst, Therapy, Healing, Comfort, Fluff | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: Heavy on therapy. Some deep seated resentment surfacing. Kinda filler (lol 7k filler) but necessary :D Enjoy!

Masterlist 

Next part : Twenty

--

Nineteen

You storm out of Calliope's office, slamming the door behind you.

Behind that door, you can hear Wanda’s sharp, erratic breaths.

You can hear your heart pounding loudly in your chest.

Gradually, you regain control, your hand subconsciously moving up to wipe the saliva that had gathered at the corner of your mouth during the intense altercation you had just walked out of.

The frustration continues to boil within you, and you rest your forehead against the cool wall. You feel the irrational urge to bang your head against something hard, maybe even induce amnesia, if only to escape the memory of the details that sent you out here in the hallway.

This first session is leaving you as winded as a boxer who's just fought through all twelve grueling rounds. You'd assumed that first sessions would be gentle, akin to cautiously dipping a toe in to test the water. But when it comes to Wanda, it's never that simple. You both have a tendency to plunge headlong into the deep end. 

To be fair, Calliope was steering the conversation, posing questions and guiding the discourse. Since Wanda's infidelity and your struggle to rebuild trust form the core of your issues, it's almost expected that Calliope would probe into the beginnings of Wanda's affair with Vision.

Wanda dutifully chronicled her indiscretions with a man that’s nearly a decade younger than her, with most of the narrative making your ears burn with new information. Before you could rein in your emotions, you found yourself hurling intimate questions such as, “Did you enjoy sleeping with him?” and “Was he a better fuck?” Wanda appeared too taken aback to respond to your interrogations as Calliope merely observed quietly, gauging whether Wanda was ready to answer your questions honestly.

Her growing silence at your pointed questions only stoked your jealousy and rage, to the point that you almost called her a whore. 

And that's how you ended up here, leaning against the wall, thumping your forehead against the rough concrete, chiding yourself for almost crossing a line with the woman you're supposed to be reconciling with.

Slowly, you push yourself off the wall, the chill of the concrete replaced by a hot surge of shame and regret. You clench and unclench your fists, trying to expel the energy that had driven you to the edge just minutes before. You need to find your balance again. You need to breathe. 

Most of all, you need to apologize.

Despite the gnawing pit in your stomach, you drag your feet back to Calliope’s office.

You exhale a shaky breath before knocking softly on the door. “May I... May I come in?" you ask, your hand hovering over the knob.

The response comes from Calliope, a simple “Come in,” that is gentle–probably something you don’t deserve at this moment. You open the door to find Wanda huddled at the far end of the couch, looking terrified. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her fingers clutch a tissue to her face. 

Guilt, fear, and anxiety, all clearly visible in her demeanor. The sight of her in such a state increases your shame tenfold.

Regret has your gaze anchored to your shoes as you utter your apology. You're not yet ready to claim your previous seat on the couch, not without knowing if it's okay. “I'm sorry,” you whisper to Wanda. “I didn't mean to...I shouldn't have...I lost control, and that's on me. I had no right to speak to you like that.”

Calliope offers you a small smile and gestures for you to take your previous seat. Then, she signals towards the spot you previously occupied, an unspoken invitation for you to rejoin them.

However, you remain rooted to your spot, waiting for Wanda's permission before making a move.

With eyes bloodshot and voice hoarse, Wanda looks at you and softly pleads, “Please, Y/N.”

At last, you gather the strength to meet her gaze and offer a nod of gratitude as you make your way back to your seat.

After you settle back into the couch, Calliope speaks up. 

“What happened here was intense, but it's also a part of the process. Confronting our emotions and learning to manage them is essential. But, we should always strive to communicate in a respectful manner," Her voice holds a hint of emphasis, and it's the closest thing to a reprimand that Wanda has heard from her. “But it’s a good thing that you returned here willingly, realizing your mistake and having the determination to face the consequences of your actions and apologize for it.”

Calliope continues, “Y/N, if I may, what led you to ask those particular questions?”

The question quickly brings a raw admission out of you–something you’ve buried at the back of your mind and never thought would come to the surface.

“I always wondered if Wanda strayed because I was lacking in some way. If there was something missing in me that Vision was able to offer her,” you confess, feeling a sudden wave of insecurity wash over you.

You are so engrossed in your thoughts that you don't see Wanda softly shaking her head in response to your words. 

You push forward, “If I were the one lacking, it would at least be something tangible I could fix. A clear problem with a clear solution. And perhaps that solution could serve as a sort of assurance for me, a guarantee that Wanda won’t do it again.”

“Honestly, it would've been easier if she answered yes to all those questions…” you chuckle softly, seeing the irony in the situation.

“It wasn’t anything you lacked, Y/N,” Wanda bites her lower lip nervously. “It wasn't about you being less or Vision being more… Frankly, being drawn to him then feels like… like a depersonalization. When I look back, I don’t recognize who I am at that moment.”

The term she used sounds unfamiliar in your ears. You look to Calliope, brows furrowed, trying to make sense of what Wanda was trying to say.

“Depersonalization is a state where a person feels detached or disconnected from themselves,” Calliope explains mildly. “They might feel like they're observing their own body from an outside perspective, or like they're in a dream or a movie. It's a form of dissociation, a mental process which produces a lack of connection in a person's thoughts, memories, feelings, actions, or sense of identity.”

“Depersonalization is often triggered by severe stress or trauma,” Calliope continues, looking at Wanda. “People experiencing it may make decisions that are out of character or do things that they normally wouldn't, as if they're on autopilot or being controlled by some external force.”

Wanda's nod comes slowly, her gaze on her folded hands. 

“During a moment when I... I felt so detached, I did something that I wouldn't normally do. I cheated,” She hesitates, swallowing hard. “But it wasn't because you lacked anything or because Vision was better. It was a reflection of my own personal problems and not about you or our relationship.”

For a long moment, you remain quiet, digesting her words, wrestling with yourself over whether you really want to believe this reasoning.

“Why didn't you come to me, Wanda?” you ask with a mournful realization that all of this could have been avoided if Wanda had simply come to you suddenly. “If you were struggling, I would've wanted to help.”

“I know,” Wanda mutters ruefully. “But at the time, I had just left my job at the gallery, and you were doing so well in your career. I–I didn't want to seem helpless, like a burden. I was battling self-pity, not to mention the grief from our failed pregnancy. I felt like I'd already failed you as a wife... I didn't want to seem even more of a failure.”

“I've never seen your struggles with pregnancy as a failure, Wanda, and certainly not your failure,” you gently interject.

“I'm aware of that, Y/N,” Wanda replies, her voice soft and almost bashful, as if she's just now coming to terms with how embarrassingly poorly she handled the whole situation. 

“But I couldn’t help but blame myself because I knew how much you wanted children. You wanted it even before you asked me to marry you. The reality of not being able to provide you the family you wanted... It felt like my heart was being torn apart. I was drowning in my grief and frustration. And just when I was starting to regain my footing, I lost a job that I was proud of. Moving to Westview seemed to rob me of my last sense of purpose. I felt lost, angry even.”

“Wanda, you're the person I wanted to raise a family with,” you say.

Wanda's lower lip trembles at that, and she reaches out, pulling another tissue from the box that Calliope had thoughtfully placed in front of her earlier.

After a long pause, you ask softly, “You were angry at me?”

“I wasn't angry with you per se,” Wanda admits, glancing towards Calliope automatically. It’s a topic that they extensively covered in the past. “It was only through my sessions with Calliope that I understood that my anger was not directed at anyone in particular, but at everything that was happening around me. I was lashing out at the world, and sadly, you were part of that world.”

That's a feeling you realize you can relate to. In hindsight, you recognize that you lashed out at the world for what Wanda did to you, and in doing so, hurt the people around you as well.

“I'm not here to provide excuses for my actions because there's nothing that could ever justify what I did,” Wanda says, her voice trembling slightly. “I know you’re–I know you’re still deciding if you want to be with me–”

“Wanda–”

“Please, Y/N, let me finish,” she interrupts, swallowing the lump in her throat as she braces herself for what comes next. “I know you’re still deciding if you want to be with me, which is why I want you to know everything—my thoughts, my feelings…to help with your decision.”

Wanda is laying it all on the line, placing the sole decision in your hands, baring her soul to see if you still want what you both had. Without the nostalgia of your old room in Montauk, the place where you two reconciled that night, you now see clearly both sides of the choice to try again with Wanda.

“I… I think I need some time to absorb all of these, Wanda. But I hear you,” you say. “And right now, I just want to say one thing: you're not a failure. You never were,” you say softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. 

For years you’ve looked at your relationship with Wanda through rose-colored lenses. But it becomes apparent now that there had been problems, deep-seated issues in your previous marriage that you had failed to see.

Wanda squeezes your hand back, your fingers tightening around yours, as if trying to hold on to you. “Thank you. I’m still struggling to believe that, but thank you.”

Calliope, who has been quietly observing the exchange, finally breaks the silence.

“These sessions are not meant to be easy, and this one certainly was heavy. But you are here, facing the truth, confronting the past, and expressing yourselves honestly and vulnerably. That takes courage.

“I'm proud of both of you,” she continues with a smile, giving each of you an encouraging nod. “I can see that today's revelations are a lot to take in. Spend some time reflecting on what we've discussed today–together and individually. But, before I let you go, there’s one more thing.”

You and Wanda look at her expectantly.

“I have a task in mind for both of you. However, I want to ensure that you only undertake it once you feel at ease with it and have fully absorbed the discussions from today's session.

“Write a letter to each other,” Calliope suggests. “Put down everything you want to say. There are no rules. It can be long or short. The only condition is to be honest with each other.”

She pauses to let her instructions sink in. “This is not something you have to share with me or anyone else. But when you're ready, I suggest that you share it with each other.”

A little while later, you and Wanda step out of the room, feeling as though you've both just endured the toughest battle of your lives. But as the door closes behind you, Wanda reaches out and gently takes your hand in hers.

“Don't worry about earlier,” Wanda whispers, looking up at you with a small smile. “We're here to learn and grow, right?”

You nod, but the guilt still lingers. “I need to work on controlling my anger,” you confess. Today's outburst was a startling wake-up call, a side of yourself you hadn't recognized. You'd never really thought of yourself as someone with anger issues, but not only did you scare Wanda, you were also fearful of what you might be capable of if it happens again. “I can't always resort to yelling when I'm upset. It's not fair to you or to me.”

Wanda gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “We're in this together, okay?” she says. “We can talk to Calliope about it, work on it. We're learning, Y/N. Remember that.”

You stop in your tracks to face her fully, and then tug on her hand until she's stepping into your embrace. You wrap your arms around her, holding her tightly to your chest, feeling the warmth of her against you. Your lips find her hair, and you kiss it gently.

“Yeah,” you reply, the knot in your chest loosening just a bit. “We're learning.”

***

Agatha twiddles her thumbs, anxiety practically radiating from her. She hasn't felt this nervous since her first job interview decades ago, and the words she needs to say now are sticking in her throat.

Wanda, in the midst of cooking, hears the silence and turns to face her business partner. She drops the spatula on the counter and heaves an exasperated sigh. “What is it?” 

“I've got something to tell you,” Agatha finally says, avoiding Wanda's gaze.

Wanda tilts her head, studying her. “Alright, shoot,” she prompts, crossing her arms over her chest.

Agatha gulps, finding an interesting spot on the floor to focus on. She’s been rehearsing this for a while now but words just refuse to come out.

“I signed us up for the annual NYC Holiday Cup-Off,” Agatha announces.

Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her face twisting into a bewildered expression. “The what now?”

“It's an annual coffee showdown that takes place every year on December 30th. A member of the organizing committee stopped by yesterday and required an immediate response. I agreed,” Agatha explains. “I mean, it’s a good exposure for us, right?”

“But the holidays are going to be hectic,” Wanda argues and resumes her cooking. “Also, Y/N and I are currently in the middle of fixing our issues. I don't want to add more to our plate.”

Before Agatha could reply, Peter interjects, “Hey, I'm totally up for helping out! And MJ will be on break from school soon, so she'll have some free time to pitch in too.”

Agatha turns to Wanda with a pleased look. “So, what do you say?”

It’s undeniably a huge opportunity to showcase their craft. Investors will be at the event, and many coffee enthusiasts will be looking to try something new. Their humble store in Queens would definitely benefit from the attention.

Wanda sighs, the corners of her mouth turning up in a small, resigned smile. “Okay,” she relents. “Let's do it.”

Just then, the bell over the door chimes and Peter immediately springs to action, leaving Agatha and Wanda alone at the counter.

“So,” Agatha starts, a curious glint in her eyes, “You and Y/N, huh? ‘In the middle of fixing issues’?”

Wanda's actions seem distracted as she avoids direct eye contact with Agatha, her hands busy with fidgeting in the utensils drawer. Finally, she retrieves a spoon to sample the marinara sauce she's been perfecting, an action that seems more about giving herself something to do than genuine interest in the sauce.  “Yes. We've started attending therapy together.”

Agatha's teasing grin quickly fades, replaced by genuine interest. Her voice softens as she asks, “Really? And how's that going?”

Wanda's response is accompanied by a small, nervous laugh, more a reflex than a sign of amusement. She continues to stir the sauce, using the motion to mask her unease. “We've had just one session till now,” she reveals, her voice catching slightly. “And, well, it was quite, uhm, heated.”

“Heated?” Agatha echoes, growing more curious than ever. “How so?”

Wanda's gaze falls, and she takes a moment to gather herself, her hands clasping the counter tightly. Finally, she looks up, meeting Agatha's concerned eyes.

“Our therapist wanted us to start from the beginning, you know? How I found myself attracted to my former student and such,” she explains, her voice cracking slightly. She takes a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. “And, uh, there were things Y/N had never heard before.”

She swallows, a look of discomfort crossing her face. “And then Y/N started asking questions, comparing herself to Vision. Asking if... if he was better than her.”

Agatha's eyes narrow in confusion for a split second, and then they widen comically as the realization hits her. “You mean... in bed?” she exclaims, surprised.

Wanda clears her throat before nodding, her face turning a shade redder. Agatha's eyes widen further, shock and concern evident in her expression. “Wanda!” she gasps, a hand flying to her chest in disbelief. “That's... That's quite the question to ask. What did you say to Y/N?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wanda replies, her voice soft and reflective.

“Why didn't you just tell her she's better?” Agatha asks, puzzled.

Wanda shakes her head, her eyes downcast. “She wouldn't have believed me. It would've just turned into me lying to make her feel better and then me trying to convince her it's not a lie,” She pauses, her voice dropping further. “But, honestly, I don't think that's what she was really trying to find out.”

“I think she was trying to find a reason to blame herself... maybe thinking she was lacking something. Like if she figured out what she was missing, she could just fix it, right? But that’s now how it works, is it? It’s not that simple.” Wanda says.

Agatha nods slowly, absorbing Wanda's words. “That's a heavy conversation to have.”

“Tell me about it,” Wanda agrees, a weary sigh escaping her lips. Her hand reaches absently for the spoon again, but she sets it down, realizing that the sauce no longer holds her attention. 

Agatha sighs, rubbing her forehead before giving Wanda a perturbed look. “But, Wanda,” she continues, “Do you think dredging up the past is the best way to regain Y/N's trust? Therapy is supposed to help, not make things more complicated.”

Wanda's eyes wander for a moment, seeking an answer in the empty space before her. “I... I don't know, Agatha,” she admits helplessly. “But these issues, they've been hiding there, just out of sight. They were bound to emerge eventually.”

Wanda continues, “I think if we want to rebuild our relationship, we have to face these issues head-on, don't we? We can't just pretend they don't exist.”

Agatha studies her in silence for a beat, before asking, “But what if this pushes her further away? What if, instead of helping Y/N realize what she wants, it sends her running in the other direction?”

Wanda shakes her head. “We're not in therapy to convince Y/N to be with me. She's already made it clear that she wants that.”

“Then why go down this painful path?” Agatha argues. “It seems like you're digging your own grave.”

“Because I need her to be sure,” Wanda says. “I need her to believe in us again.”

She recognizes the steadfast glint in Wanda's eye. It's a look she's seen before, one that comes to the fore when Wanda is unmovable, unwilling to change her mind.

“I can see that,” Agatha says quietly. “But it's a fine line you're walking, Wanda. Healing is important, but so is self-preservation. Don't destroy yourself in the process.”

Wanda's eyes meet Agatha's, determination burning in them. “I know it's a risk," she says. “But it's one I have to take. Y/N deserves to know everything, to understand why things happened the way they did. If that leads to us being stronger together, then it's worth it. If it drives her away... well, at least I'll know I was honest.”

Agatha sighs, but it is later on followed by a knowing grin. “You really do love her, don't you?”

Wanda smiles, a sad but resolute one. “More than anything. And that's why I can't hide from the past. I have to face it, no matter how painful it is. For her. For us.”

They stand side by side in silence for a moment, each lost in thought. 

“I hope it works, Wanda. I really do.”

“Me too,” Wanda whispers, her voice full of hope and a touch of fear. “Me too.”

***

“A person can love you with all their heart and not be any good at it. But remember, you don't have to tolerate anything you don't like, no matter how much they love you.”

You shift in your seat, restless and unsure. Your foot taps a rhythm on the carpeted floor of Calliope's office as her words swirl in your mind, the temperature in the room seeming to rise with your anxiety.

“It doesn't sound like you're encouraging me to stick with Wanda,” you point out.

Calliope leans back in her chair, a good-natured smile playing on her lips. “I'm not here to encourage or discourage any particular course of action,” she says calmly. “What I am here for is to help you explore your feelings and understand what you truly want. Sometimes love isn't enough, and that's okay. It's up to you to decide what you can and can't accept in a relationship.”

As you chew on Calliope's words, trying to reconcile your love for Wanda with the reality of the situation, you find comfort in Calliope's lack of judgment, a space to think without pressure.

“You're right,” you mumble. “I just need to figure out what I can live with and what I can't.”

It's your first official solo session with Calliope after a tumultuous joint session with Wanda earlier in the week. Interaction with Wanda since then has been muted and bittersweet. Interaction with Wanda since then has been muted and bittersweet, marked only by a quiet dinner at her place and a walk with Sparky outside afterward. The dinner was sweet, filled with affectionate glances and gentle touches, but it lacked the spark that once ignited between you two in Montauk and the passionate days that followed.

Frankly, you're desperate to return to how things were before your outburst, but you have no idea how.

The subsequent days that followed haven't been any better. You remember the way Wanda would sometimes look at you with a silent question in her eyes. It could have been a simple, “Are we going to make it?” or as heart-wrenching as, “Have you changed your mind about giving us another chance?”

“So, tell me more about how you're feeling,” Calliope prompts, bringing you back to the present moment. “What are some of the emotions that have been coming up for you lately?”

“Uh, they come at different times in the day,” you say, chuckling softly. “In the morning there’s longing. Now that I’m no longer in denial of the fact that I’m still very much in love with my ex-wife, I miss her more terribly than the months we were estranged. I miss Wanda and I miss our old life together. I miss the routine I have with her. Just… being married to her. Then in the afternoon, I miss another relationship in my life–my friendship with Nat. She’s like a sister to me–well, I consider her one. I grew up without siblings and the only other familial love I knew in my life was my mother’s until she came along. Losing her hurt as much if not more than Wanda’s betrayal, to be honest.”

As you pause, feeling as though you're oversharing, Calliope gifts you a reassuring smile. “Just continue, Y/N. I'm here to listen,” she encourages.

You shyly return her smile before continuing, “Nights, well, they're a combination of guilt, anger, and a kind of despair that sometimes makes me wish I wouldn't wake up if everything remains the same. I'm not... I don't think I'm suicidal, but at times, it feels as though an abrupt end would be easier to deal with.”

Calliope takes a moment to process your words, her eyes softening with empathy. “It sounds like you're carrying a lot of pain,” she says. “But let's clarify something important–while it might feel overwhelming at times, it doesn't mean it's unmanageable. When you have thoughts about not wanting to wake up, it's a sign that you're longing for relief, not necessarily the end. It's vital to differentiate between the two. Now, let me ask. Has there been anything recently that's caused you pain? Something you believe you're still grappling with?”

You make it appear as if you have to think about it for a moment even though the response comes to you almost instantly.

“Uhm, there is actually…” you start. “Wanda and I haven’t talked about this because all conversations that have something to do with Vision are just painful to have basically. I don’t know if Wanda’s mentioned it to you before but, uh, Wanda told me herself that Vision filmed them having sex.”

“I see,” Calliope responds. “Wanda did mention that. We mainly focused on her experience though–how it was a direct violation of her privacy.”

You draw a deep breath, releasing it slowly as you prepare to delve into the matter further.

“Right. And as for me, knowing about the existence of such a video, it just... It haunts me. It's not like I've seen it or anything. But–but just the idea... It feels like an additional layer of betrayal. And on top of that, I’m livid that someone easily violated Wanda like that.”

“So, it's not just the affair itself, but the tangible evidence of it that exacerbates the hurt. Is that correct?”

You nod, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“I understand,” Calliope says, giving you a sympathetic nod. “It's like an open wound that keeps getting poked. And every time it does, it becomes more difficult to heal.”

“Right,” you agree, your voice catching a bit as you swallow. The way Calliope has just articulated your feelings is validating, like she's reading your thoughts. “I deleted that video without seeing it. I knew it would just make me hate Wanda all over again. But, you know, sometimes I wonder if I should've seen it.”

Calliope nods, her hands resting comfortably in her lap. “It's totally natural to feel that way,” she says. “Curiosity, the need for closure, or just the urge to understand... These feelings can push us to do things like that. But it's worth remembering, not all answers make things better. Sometimes, they just hurt more.”

“Do you think I’d still be here, trying to make things work if I had seen it?” you wonder out loud.

Calliope takes a moment, her eyes thoughtful as she considers your question. “That's a tough one, Y/N. So many things could influence a decision like that. But you know, despite everything else, we often end up following our heart, even if it doesn't make logical sense.”

Her words seem to settle something inside you. 

You find your thoughts drifting, reflecting on the choices you've made and the paths you've chosen not to take. The video was a potential Pandora's box, one you knew you needed to avoid. The thought of violating Wanda's privacy, even after everything, feels wrong. 

You recognize your own responsibility of ensuring you don't place yourself in situations that might jeopardize what you and Wanda are rebuilding. For too long, you've felt as if you're just waiting for the next slip-up from Wanda, and you yearn to free yourself from that cycle.

“Nothing about love is logical, then?” you ask. 

“Love often doesn't follow the rules of logic,” she begins, her voice soft but clear. “It's a deeply emotional and sometimes irrational force. But that doesn't mean it's without structure or patterns.”

She pauses, studying your face to gauge your reaction. “In therapy, we often look at love through the lens of attachment and connection. How we express love, how we receive it, what we need from a relationship, and how we cope when those needs are not met. All of these aspects can be explored and understood.”

You take a deep breath, trying to wrap your mind around Calliope's words. “So, what you're saying is that while love itself might not be logical, understanding our own patterns and reactions in love can bring clarity?”

Calliope smiles, nodding. “Exactly. Recognizing your own needs, your triggers, and your boundaries can help you navigate the complexities of love. It can provide you with the tools to build a healthier relationship, not just with Wanda but with yourself.”

As the session starts to wind down, Calliope looks at you with a kind yet inquisitive expression. “Is there anything specific you'd like to talk about before we end today? Any thoughts or feelings you’d like to explore further?”

“Actually, there's something I've been wanting to ask, but it feels a bit awkward–especially with Wanda around,” you say, looking a bit sheepish.

Calliope leans forward, her eyes warm and attentive. “This is a safe space. Whatever you need to ask or discuss, feel free to do so. Remember, our conversations here are confidential.”

“Okay,” you say, wetting your lips. “Do you think...Do you think it's possible for someone to change? I mean, truly change? Wanda has hurt me in the past, and she's said it… it won’t happen again. She's working hard to prove it, but how can I be sure? How can I trust that it's not just an act, that she won't hurt me again?”

Calliope takes her time, carefully considering her words before speaking.

“I believe people can change,” she tells you squarely. “But change is a process. It's slow, and it's hard. And it's something that the person has to genuinely want for themselves. Change cannot be forced or faked.”

She pauses, looking deep into your eyes. “The question here isn't just whether Wanda can change, but whether you believe she can. Trust is a delicate thing, and it takes time to rebuild. It's normal to have doubts, to have fears. What's important is how you address those feelings and how you communicate with Wanda about them.”

You nod, her words sinking in. It’s a terrifying leap of faith, a gamble with your heart and your happiness.

“What if I make the wrong choice?” you ask, failing to keep the tremor out of your voice. “What if I trust her, and she betrays me again?”

“Deciding to trust someone will never not be a risk, Y/N,” Calliope says, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“You're right,” you reply, taking a deep breath and feeling a bit more centered. “I need to focus on the now and communicate openly with Wanda.”

Calliope's smile is warm and understanding. “You’ve taken brave steps today, Y/N.”

The future is unwritten, and it's yours to shape. 

***

The enticing aroma of steak cooking fills your kitchen as you busy yourself with the final touches of the evening meal. As you fuss over the table preparation and positioning the scented candles you spread around the dining room, you're conscious of the nerves prickling at your skin. It's not like this is your first date with Wanda, but the anticipation of her arrival makes it feel as if it is.

Freshly bathed, you've even gone through the effort of applying a touch of makeup, just enough to give you that extra glow. You're wearing a nice shirt that subtly showcases your lean arms and compliments your figure. 

Maybe part of you is expecting, or at least hoping, for more than just dinner tonight.

The doorbell rings, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Quickly, you wipe your hands on a kitchen towel and hurry to the door.

Wanda stands there, her beauty as stunning as ever. Her cheeks are lightly flushed from the winter chill, and she's bundled up in a thick, cozy puffer jacket. Nestled in her arms is Sparky, his tail wagging wildly in sheer joy at the sight of you. Seeing your little family at your doorstep, a jolt of affection sweeps over you, momentarily stealing your words, but you manage to find your footing, leaning in to greet her with a tender kiss. Sparky lets out a surprised yelp, sandwiched between you and Wanda.

When you release her bottom lip with a wet pop, Wanda peers up at you with a dazed smile on her face as she asks, “What was that for?”

With a nonchalant shrug, you answer, “I couldn’t resist, you're just too beautiful.”

She looks surprised as she takes in the romantically set table, the flickering candles, and the open bottle of merlot. “What's all this for?” she asks, her eyes meeting yours.

Trying to keep your voice steady, you shrug, offering her a casual grin. “No special reason,” you respond, gesturing to the lovingly prepared meal. “Just felt like making you dinner. Sparky can have ⅓ of my steak since I didn’t know he’s coming too.”

She turns to you with a wide grin on her face and says, “Oh, Y/N, you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” you tell her sheepishly. “Is that alright?”

Wanda pulls you close, the fabric of your shirt gathered in her hand, and captures your lips in another searing kiss. “It’s more than alright,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin.

Her hand releases your shirt, and she follows you into the dining room where the dinner you worked very hard on is waiting. You clink your glasses in a toast, and then you both tuck into your dinner. Conversation flows easily between you two, just like old times. 

Wanda shares anecdotes about her day, each story making you smile or laugh. When it's your turn, you talk about your first solo therapy session with Calliope. Wanda immediately reassures you that you don't need to share anything you're not comfortable with, but you shake your head, insisting that you want to be open with her.

The conversation takes a more serious turn when you mention Vision's illicit video of their affair. You see Wanda's eyes widen in surprise, but she remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You take a deep breath, meeting Wanda's eyes. “It... It's been bothering me, Wanda. The idea of it. The violation of your privacy... and just the very existence of it. I didn’t know how to bring it up but talking to Calliope earlier helped me come to terms with it.”

Wanda's face pales slightly, her fork pausing in mid-air. “Oh,” she murmurs, the word barely audible. She sets her utensils down and takes a sip of wine, her gaze distant. “I... I see.”

“I want you to know,” you continue, reaching across the table to place your hand over hers, “I deleted it. I didn't watch it. Not because I was scared of what I might see, but because it was the right thing to do. For both of us.”

Wanda's eyes widen slightly, and something in her expression shifts. Her face is open and unguarded, and tears well in her eyes, not spilling over, but making them shine with an intensity that grips your heart. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but it takes her a moment to find her voice, a subtle tremble in her words as she finally says, “Thank you.”

Wanda's throat moves as she struggles to reel in her emotions. “Thank you for respecting me, even when I didn't deserve it.”

You smile and lean forward to place a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. “You’re welcome.”

As the last remnants of the Merlot are savored and the dishes are cleared away, a new energy envelops the room. The candlelight dances in Wanda's eyes and the warmth of the evening gives way to a different kind of heat.

The conversation slows to comfortable silence. Neither of you makes a move, but the air between you is taut with expectation as you regard her with an aching gaze. After a lingering moment, you both get up from the table, your movements mirroring each other's. The distance between you diminishes as Wanda steps closer, her hands finding their way to your waist.

You tilt your head upwards, meeting her gaze, and what you see makes your heart race. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. Her lips part slightly as her breath hitches, the slight tremble betraying her nervousness. You both want this, need this. And tonight, there's nothing holding you back. The past is behind you, and the future is waiting. For now, you have this moment, and it's more than enough.

As your lips meet in a passionate kiss, you can't help but think that this isn't just another step towards gaining back some semblance of what you two used to have. It's a leap of faith–being this close to her isn’t something you still need to be afraid of. This night isn't just about seeking physical comfort; it's about rediscovering each other in the most personal way possible. 

More than just dinner, indeed.

“No, don’t go,” Wanda’s arm swiftly wraps around your exposed waist, anchoring you to the bed–the very bed where you've spent hours making love to her. A soft chuckle bubbles from your lips as your fingers trace the hand splayed across your stomach, a gentle prison keeping you bound to the mattress alongside her.

“I just need to grab something, love, I’ll be right back,” you assure her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before carefully disentangling from her insistent grasp. 

Wanda releases you reluctantly, an adorable pout gracing her lips that sends a pang of regret through you, making you momentarily second-guess your decision to leave the inviting cocoon of her warmth. You smirk as you watch Sparky take your place beside Wanda and start licking at her face, making your ex-wife squirm and giggle from his attention.

Slowly, you make your way to the desk situated not too far from the bed. Over your shoulder, you can see Wanda propping herself up, the sheet falling haphazardly over her bare form, her modesty barely preserved by the silken material. The sight of her is momentarily distracting, but you manage to shake the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand.

On the desk lies the letter you’ve penned for her. Calliope had recommended this as an exercise–writing down everything you wanted to say to each other in the form of a letter. At first, you found it a little odd. You've always been more of a face-to-face person when it comes to expressing yourself.

With the letter in hand, you make your way back to the bed, the anticipation causing your heart to hammer erratically against your chest. It's just Wanda. You've known each other for years, yet somehow, this moment feels as nerve-wracking as a first date.

As you climb back into bed, you hand the letter over to Wanda, looking into her eyes, now filled with curiosity and a hint of nervousness reflecting your own. 

“This... is for you,” you say softly, the letter in her hands feeling like a piece of your soul, bare and exposed for her to see.

Wanda looks genuinely taken aback, her fingers running over the sealed envelope lightly. “Oh, Y/N,” she says, sounding surprised and a touch guilty. “I didn't know we were exchanging letters tonight. I left mine for you back at my apartment.”

Her eyes flicker to you, apologetic, as she makes a mental note to herself to retrieve the letter as soon as she can. You reassure her, saying, “That's alright, Wanda. You can read mine without having to give yours. There's no rush.”

You watch as Wanda slowly unfolds it. She scans the contents of your letter, her eyes tracing the loops and lines of your handwriting. In that quiet, you can practically hear your own heartbeat, and the wait feels agonizing as you watch Wanda's reactions to your words—her brows furrow in concentration, her lips part in surprise, and her eyes, unsteady at first, gradually soften in understanding.

Wanda,

I need to begin with an apology. I've lashed out at you many times, and even though people say I have every right to be angry, I never want to hurt you with my actions or words. I'm sorry for that, truly.

I've loved you for a long time, Wanda, and even in the depths of all the hurt and pain, that love never stopped. Not even once. That, I think, was the hardest part.

Here's the truth: loving you is like breathing for me. It's this natural, innate thing that hasn't been shaken by everything we've gone through. I can't assure you that we'll end up with rings on our fingers again, but I want you to know what I hope for us. I hope for us to grow individually as people, to overcome our own demons, and to find our way back to each other, stronger than before.

I walked away before because I was lost, Wanda. I felt like I was drowning, and the person who should've been my lifeline was the one pushing me further under. It wasn't easy, stepping away from you, from us. But I was scared, and I felt like I had no other choice.

I can't promise that everything will be smooth sailing from here on out. I can't promise that I'll suddenly trust you like I used to. Honestly, I have no idea what's coming our way. But I can promise that I'll try. 

I'm still in love with you, Wanda, and I'm still here. I’ll keep trying as long as it takes.

Yours always,

Y/N

When she's done reading, she clutches the letter to her chest, her eyes closing for a moment, as if absorbing the words into her very being. Then slowly, she places it gently on the nightstand, her hand lingering on the paper as if reluctant to let go.

There's a vulnerability in her eyes that you haven't seen in a while. It takes your breath away, the rawness of it, the absolute trust she's putting in you in this moment. It's what you've been working towards, what you've been fighting for. And it's beautiful.

“What you wrote...” she pauses, her eyes glistening as she fights back tears, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, “It means everything to me. Thank you.”

You reach across, brushing a stray tear from her cheek, your touch gentle. “I love you,” you tell her, your voice thick with emotion.

Her hand covers yours, her fingers squeezing reassuringly. “I love you too,” she whispers, the words a sacred promise, a reaffirmation of everything that you are to each other. Her smile deepens, her eyes sparkling with a love that's both old and new, and in that moment, everything feels right in the world.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you're pulled from the comfort of sleep by a relentless buzzing noise. In the dim light, you can make out Wanda's phone vibrating on her nightstand. Carefully, so as not to awaken her, you reach across her slumbering form to silence the persistent vibration.

Squinting at the bright screen, you find a flurry of unread messages and missed calls from unknown numbers and names you don't recognize. A feeling of unease begins to creep in as you fumble to unlock the phone, trying Wanda's birthday first, then yours, both to no avail. Your frustration mounts, and with a sigh of resignation, you power off the phone to quell its incessant buzzing.

But as you settle back into bed, your mind begins to wander into dangerous territory, forming connections and scenarios that you'd rather not contemplate. Who has been trying to reach her? Could there be others, aside from Valkyrie, who had vied for her attention? 

The seed of doubt sown, jealousy begins to sprout within you before you can stop it. You turn to your side, facing away from her, trying to shake off the unwelcome emotions. You close your eyes, willing sleep to come to you. The sheets feel cool against your skin, and you pull the covers closer. 

It’s not a war waged anymore with Wanda or what she did in the past.

It’s a war you’re now waging with yourself.

Taglist: @canvascoloredin | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby| @swiftie1-0-1 | @scarlettbitchx | @tercerspirit-22

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #agatha harkness #pietro maximoff #peter parker

[storiesbyrhi]

Complete Total word count: 80,833 Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader

When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something.  A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; mild smut; no beta

Chapters:

1: Valium 2359 words The beginning of the end. 2: Carrie 3358 words The very first circle of Hell is Hawkins High, and while you have yet to find a Heaven, there’s safety in presence of Eddie. 3: Honey 4823 words It’s been three months and Eddie can’t repress the feelings anymore. Bonus: Fic title context reveal and Eddie’s acoustic guitar. 4: Starcourt 4322 words Quality time. Acts of service. Words of affirmation. Gift giving. Physical Touch. All the languages of love are here and accounted for. 5: Buzzkill 5879 words Time to face the fallout of the night before, and to step boldly (and topless) into the next phase of your relationship with Eddie.

6: Monstrous 5721 words Lightning strikes twice, which maybe you could survive, but the storm isn’t over. 7: Prizes 4511 words This machine slays dragons.

8: Interlude 1323 words A short interlude to pay tribute to Cliff Burton, born February 10 1962 – died September 27 1986, aged 24. 9: Halloween 6680 words ♫ Boys and girls of every age. Wouldn’t you like to see something strange? ♫ Nah, but it is the spooky season and that means two things: softness and smut.

10: Royalty 8055 words The dream keeps on getting better, but really… how long can this last?

11: Afterglow 4752 words Eddie in a dress again, end of year exams, and Eddie turns 20.

12: Villains 5748 words The Seniors graduate. It’s the beginning of the end…

13: Pretending 5158 words Tis the season to be sorry. Fa-la-la-la-la. La-la-la-la. Deck the halls in boughs of worry... 14: Nineteen 4484 words Happy birthday, angel. 15: Christmas 3605 words It was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

16: Fireworks 4459 words 1986 comes to an end, and Dustin just wants a beer.

17: Glory 5617 words 1987.

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader #Chubby!Reader

[ohtobeleah]

Enterprise // Jake Seresin

Chapter Three: Darlinghurst Danger

Summary: When you get an unexpected visitor from over the state line, Jake Seresin unintentionally starts a war he isn’t sure he knows how to end and keep you protected at the same time.

Warnings: Mentions of sexy acts. Mentions of drugs, Jake Seresin x F!reader. Villain Bradley Bradshaw. Gun violence, blood, injury sustained from gun violence. Gang related themes.

Word Count: 5.2k

Author Note: I was on a roll with editing this on my break yesterday so here’s chapter three. x Literally obsessed with how this is turning out. Also praying that this works again, another post from the desktop browser.

Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three |

Silence. It was an eerie experience. In some circumstances, silence brought tranquillity and peace. It brought with it a sense of calm and the innermost ability to relax amongst the sound of nothing. 

In others? It brought with it a storm so chronically destructive that a comeback was rendered near impossible. Ask any survivor of the nineteen seventy four Christmas Day cyclone that completely demolished eighty percent Darwin. In the days and weeks after tropical cyclone Tracy swallowed up Darwin as a whole—the majority of the traumatised population that once made Darwin, well, Darwin—left the city to start anew somewhere else. 

When your father died it felt like a tropical cyclone had ripped through you. But in the silence that had been plaguing your mind in the week following, you knew you had to fight to survive. You couldn’t just start anew somewhere else. Not because you didn’t have the means, it was a far more pathetic excuse that kept you tethered to Fitzroy. 

You didn’t know how to be anything else. 

“So Widow.” Jake's hand came to rest gently on the upper part of your thigh over the silk of the ankle-length dress that he much perfected bunched up on the floor of his office. “What do I get out of this new business merger?” He hadn’t once looked at you since you left Drums Emporium. You sat in the passenger's seat quietly coming down from an adrenaline rush that felt almost like heroin rushing through your veins. Javy Machado had definitely rattled you, even if you fronted a different story to Jake–He’d done his job and done his job well. If that job had been to scare the shit out of you. 

You’d thought about what it would mean to combine your business dealings with Jakes. If something wasn't controlled by your father or associated by business trade, it was owned by the Seresins or associated at best. A lot of the smaller family owned businesses around town paid your father for security and safety–hoping that if they gave over a percentage of their weekly profit the katipo would steer clear and more importantly keep the Adders at bay if they ever came slithering over from the North Side.  

Contrary to popular belief you weren’t just a pretty face. You had your fathers business wit, reaching down to flick Jake's hand off your thigh as you straightened yourself up a little, you watched as the hand you’d just brushed off your thigh made its way back up to wrap around the steering wheel. 

“Twenty percent of all profits made from any one of pops—“ It still didn’t feel right, calling the Katipo owned businesses your own. “I uh—“ You cleared your throat momentarily, correcting yourself. For a brief second Jake had looked at you with condolence filled eyes before he turned his attention back to the road ahead. He did feel for you, he’d been where you were right now, only he’d known all his life he’d step up and take the reins one day, lead an empire. You were kind of just thrown into it, no one expected a woman to take your fathers place. “I mean, twenty percent of all profits made by any of my operations.” You were quick to correct yourself, it was still early days in your new found position and coming to terms with all that was once your fathers was now left to you was going to take some time to fully adjust to.. “And I’ll take twenty percent of anything you and your men make outta Drums or any other club and pub you own on this side of town.” Jake's hand grew progressively tighter around the steering wheel as he shook his head, knuckles turning white with the applied pressure. He knew you were low balling him and he didn't appreciate that one bit. 

“Y/n, if you think for a second I’ll settle for something as messily twenty fucking percent of your operations you’ve got another thing coming.” Jake liked you, despite the way you made his blood boil beyond belief. You were young and vibrant and willing to break rules and bring down walls just to make it in this world. He admired your willingness to walk into his office and ask for help—although he’d never say that. Asking for help was harder than anything he’d ever done before. And you chose to come to him, not anyone else. “I want fifty percent and free use of any of your men when need be.” Jake's eyes were darker than normal, seeing nothing but his opportunity to finally be in control of Fitzroy almost in the palm of his hands. Something he’d always dreamed about, gotten off to the thought of. Jake could feel himself becoming greedy, wanting everything, including but not limited to the South Side and well–you. 

“Only if I get the same, Seresin.” You sassed back as you played with a single silver bullet you pulled from the gun you’d taken from Javy. Fiddling it between your fingers as you spoke, looking down at the bullet that seems too small to be able to end a life. “Fifty percent of Drums and surroundings pub revenue plus free use of any of your men in exchange for half my operations and all the men you can possibly need.” You smiled as you rattled off your final offer, turning your head to face Jake as he drove you home. Across to the South Side, the side of the city of Fitzroy Jake had no control of, but couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into. 

The south of Fitzroy had a nickname. Sin City to be precise. Men and Women from all walks of life would flock there to indulge in their vices, and they rarely left disappointed. Whether it be sex or alcohol you now ruled over all, every drop of alcohol served was owned and run by the Katipo and every woman of the night gave a percentage to you in return for free medical care. And of course, drugs from classic green grass to white china white heroin were available on every street corner, if you knew where to look, and if you knew what doors to knock on. Despite who answered though all those doors were now owned by no other than the Queen of Fitzroy. You. 

“Deal.” Jake agreed softly, releasing his tight grip he had on the steering wheel after rolling his neck. “Fifty fifty.” He could agree to that, that was something he could work with, that was worth his time. Not that you were ever not worth his time. “Lets shake on it?” Jake released his hand from the steering wheel all together to reach out to gently thumb at your chin. Turning your head to face him once again as his thumb teased at your lower lip. 

“I’d rather just fuck—“ You batted your lashes, knowing your response would annoy Jake ‘The Hangman’ Seresin enough that he’d have to hold back whatever nasty thoughts he had about you in order to keep the control he knew he had in this little merger. “I'll bend you over my desk this time just so I don't have to look at your smug ass face.” You'd be lying if the laugh that escaped from the depths of Jake's soul didn’t make you giddy. He’d always been a dick, but a dick you could easily get along with if you pushed all the crud of gang law aside. Your Romeo to his Juliet. “But still, I’d rather just fuck.” Jake looked at you for a few seconds as he turned down the secluded street his GPS had told him to take. You'd moved recently–which turned out to be the best thing you could have ever done. Away from everyone, away from the world. Your father had spared no expense.  

“Can’t fuck while I’m driving can I?” Jake groaned as he adjusted himself. “And how sure are you that I won’t just fuck you over in this deal huh?” A grin washed over your face as you happily allowed Jake's thumb to slip inside your mouth momentarily, your eyes glued on his mouth as he groaned softly at the feeling of your warm mouth wrapping around his digit. 

“Because I’d fuck you over first.” You replied as you leaned in further over the centre console, Jake's thumb still on the cusp of your lower lip. “I need protection from people much bigger than you Seresin, you don’t scare me—“ It was indeed a lie. Jake knew that. He scared the shit out of you, he always had. But there had to have been a side of him that didnt for you to feel like you could reach out to him when you knew you were royally fucked. 

Jake scared the shit out of everyone, including himself. But he also knew he was the last of your worries at the moment, Jake Seresin was incapable of hurting you just as much as he was incapable of giving you the life you deserved. The life he knew you wanted. The one he could remember your father talking about in heavy detail during meetings with his own father. 

Looking at you, Jake saw a younger version of himself, reckless and willing. He wanted to indulge in his biggest vice, you. But he also knew that doing that would be the biggest mistake you could ever make if you truly wanted out one day.

“We’ll just have to see about that, now won’t we?” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Shit, Jake–” When you and Jake arrived at your newly renovated house, you took quick notice of the fact none of the outside lights were on. “You're just teasing at this pace.” Something akin to a whine escaped as you squirmed in the passenger seat. The lights you liked to leave on a timer were off—and judging by the time, two thirty in the goddamn morning, they should have been well and truly on. “Please–” Fighting off thoughts that something could be wrong, very wrong, you tried to keep focused on the way Jake's fingers were making you feel as he slowly circled two digits around your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck–i cant!” It was to no use though. “Somethings not right.” You had a fear of the dark that could be easily forgotten about when you could keep the lights illuminating the garden that surrounded your property. The dark had never been something you struggled with until you shot your first person, ever since then the dark was a place where the lives of those you'd taken could still haunt you. 

Through floor to ceiling windows in the cracks of the tapestry like curtains, you saw no lights reflecting on the water flowing steadily under the miniature bridge which separated your humble abode from the rest of the town. Fuck.

A flustered mess, you kicked your feet down from the tan leather car seat you sat on and fixed yourself quickly after Jake's hand had “accidentally” made its way between your legs to tease your cunt while he drove and tried to forget about the fact you were a decade younger. 

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked, licking your arousal off his fingers as he drove the car over the bridge and into the gravel carport. Not sure what had startled you. 

“Not sure yet, something just doesn’t seem right.” Reaching for Coyote's gun, you reloaded the clip before placing it in its rightful spot, your garter belt. “Fucking hell—“ 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jake's eyebrows raised as he parked the car, shutting off the headlights before reaching over to open the glove box. A small arsenal for handguns ranging in size and power all resting neatly on top of one another. “I haven’t heard anything about Bradshaw and his boys in a while? What if he heard the news about your dad?” Your heart sank—fuck. 

“This is the exact reason I needed protection!” You hissed as you held a hair tie in between your teeth before you aggressively threw your hair up into a high ponytail. “It’s been less then a two fucking weeks and bastards are breaking in! Probably trying to knock me off before I get a chance to knock them down a few ranks.” Seething, you placed your heels back on, mumbling incoherent words to yourself although Jake smirked to himself when he caught the tail end of one of your rants. “Fucking Bradley Bradshaw, who names their kid that?” 

“I’ll go through the back, keep your wits about yourself kid and don’t fucking do anything I wouldn’t alright?” Jake growled as he unlocked the safety on his own weapon of choice. His Glock 34. “You’re covered alright, you can trust me.” Jake reassured you before placing his gun in the inside pocket of his dress jacket, about to step out of the Porsche. You reached over to grip at his bicep, keeping him from leaving the safety of the car you both sat in. 

Jake saw the fear in your eyes, he’d never seen you like this before, suddenly so open and vulnerable. It made you mortal like himself. Jake didn't know what to say when you were looking at him close to tears. This was why you'd come to him, wasn't it? What did you know that he didn't? 

“What are you hiding?” Jake asked as softly as he could, not wanting to push you away to a point he couldn't reach you. When Jake's question was met with silence, he leaned in, taking your lips hostage with his own. Moving slowly as he reached out to tilt your chin up. It truly did come as a surprise all things considered. You’d never just kissed Jake Seresin before, not like this anyway. In his car, without having been bent over or used as a real life sex toy. “You can trust me, I've got you.” With his heart on his sleeve, Jake reminded you once more that he did in fact have your back. All it did was leave you confused. Why? Why would Jake kiss you like he did, he got nothing out of it. You had to push your own selfishness aside when the gravity of the situation dawned on you. 

“If it’s Bradshaw, or just any of his men in general, I’m fucked Jake—“ You paused for a moment, you really hadn’t sealed any deals yet, only spoken of an agreement which in this town meant nothing, especially in this sort of business. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing Jake, I dont know how to do this, any of this–” You were panicking, freaking out because you were supposed to know what you were doing, you had to expect this kind of thing to happen, its why you went to Jake in the first place. But now that something was playing out in real time and not just as a figment of your imagination in a realm of possibility somewhere far far away, you didn't know what to do. 

“Widow–” Jake gripped at your cheeks, squishing your cheeks together between his fingers and thumb. “Pull yourself together, collect your composure and shut the fuck up.” 

Despite your existential worry, you nodded slightly before pulling away. You needed Jake to be tough with you–you didn't know how to compute anything else. Exiting the car, you walked with Jake towards the front door, both carrying. Your breathing hitched when you saw the door somewhat busted, broken and open. 

“You only ever threaten to kill me, Bradshaw won’t even bother with a goddamn warning.” You weren't in the right attire for this, nor was Jake. It looked as if you were both about to go to a fancy dinner, when in actuality it was something far more morbid. 

“That’s because I’m a gentleman, and have a soft spot for women who have over inflated egos.” Jake smirked as he changed his trajectory to head towards the side of the house. “Roosters just a maniac.” 

Drawing your gun you took a deep breath in and a deep breath out before you entered your new home that was meant to be your fortress. You ever so graciously manoeuvred your way through the spacious living room, quickly noticing the body of your bodyguard Clyde Lawler laying bloodied on the floor amongst shattered glass and broken furniture. 

“Son of a Bitch.”  You whispered to yourself through gritted teeth as you crouched down beside the still and bloodied man, holding your fingers to his neck, finding no pulse when you pressed against the cool of his skin. “Fuck Clyde—“ If you werent pissed before you were certainly pissed now, Clyde had worked for your father for as long as you could remember. Barely two weeks with you and he’s dead. That had to have been a bad fucking omen if there ever was one. 

“Alright fucker, where are you?” You continued further into your own house towards the kitchen, slowly but surely making sure to point your gun at anything that could have resembled a broad shouldered man. 

It was however in the kitchen where you finally saw him standing there, waiting there for your arrival. With your gun quickly flying to aim between his eyes as he sat at the kitchen island smirking, cigarette lit between his fingers, the only thing of light in the house until you flicked the switch. Exposing Braldey Bradshaw for everything he was. A mad man with no remorse. 

A man who you knew had played a vital role in your fathers death. You knew he was coming for you next. 

“Nice to see you Widow, sorry to hear about dear old daddy.” It wasn't as condolence filled as Jake had said it before, Bradley mentioning your father just left an awfully bad taste in your mouth. “But I trust you’re taking to the title of Queen of Fitzroy quite well?” Bradley spoke with enough conviction in his tone that for a second you actually believed you wore a genuine crown. “Didn’t know he’d hand it down, thought Katipo would all but be forgotten once the king was six feet under.” Bradley flicked his ashes onto the ground before placing the cancer stick between his lips, inhaling the poison you wished would take him there on the stop. “You’re leaking kid, got men jumping ship and running for hiring ground as we speak, don't you?” 

“What do you want from me Bradshaw, you're a long way from home?” Darlinghurst, at least an eight hour drive away on a good day. “I’m assuming your boys aren’t here to protect you from bullets I won't hesitate to pepper you with if you don’t get the fuck out of my house in five seconds.....” Bradley Bradshaw, king of Darlinghurst, a city much bigger than Fitzroy and in a whole other state. But as it goes, your fathers death meant Fitzroy was open for the taking, pop Jake ‘The Hangman’ Seresin off while you're at it and suddenly the city’s open season. A small fish in the grand scheme of things, but you knew Bradley had had his eye on Fitzroy ever since he’d come across your fathers path a few years ago. 

You pulled the pin back before aiming your gun a little higher when you came to the realisation Bradley hadnt taken you seriously. Arms extended as far as they would go as you saw Jake's broad body ghosting through the backyard. 

“I just came to talk sweetheart ain’t nothing to be afraid of, came to offer you a deal actually.” Bradley chuckled before putting the cigarette out on the kitchen island before he sighed heavily, standing from the stool he’d been parched on, taking a few wide strides your way. With every thud of his boot you flinched ever so slightly. 

“Four—“ You spat shakingly. Still counting down the five seconds you’d given as a warning. 

“Come work for me and my boys? I’m in need of a pretty little thing like yourself.” You didn’t know much about why people called Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster. It would be a question you’d have to remember to ask Jake later on, because right now you felt like you couldn’t breathe with Bradley standing so close and in your face. “You’ve got balls kid, I’ll give you credit for that, but with that pretty face that doesn’t matter.” His voice was low and gruff as Bradley walked even closer to you— closing whatever possible gap that had been left. “But you and I both know you won’t survive on your own sweetheart, won’t last two weeks amongst the big dogs.” As soon as Bradley had finished threatening you, a wild smirk appeared across his face—a tight arm came around your throat from behind. It had to have been one of Bradshaw's boys waiting patiently in the shadows for the opportune moment to strike. “And yeah, I did bring my boys.'' Bradley thoroughly enjoyed the way your eyes lit up like Christmas trees with shock and horror. “You're a fucking amature Widow, but you arent exactly none-leathal.”

You dropped your gun to the ground as your hands flew up the claw at the dark forearm that worked to choke you, growing tighter with every passing second, constricting your airways as you flailed. Gasping for air. 

Bradley chuckled to himself, knowing this was exactly how things were going to go. Picking the gun you’d dropped up slowly from the ground, laughing before he pointed it towards an armed and ready to fire Jake Seresin. Bradley for the life of him hadnt quite put the pieces of the puzzle together, but he world–evenly, if given enough time. 

“Drop the girl Bradshaw.” Jake calmly spoke as he held his gun up ready to fire. One hand still in the pocket of his slacks casually. “The fuck are you doing in Fitzroy?” 

“Business, thought I’d come check out the market in Fitzroy, seeing as though little miss Widow here’s about to be the top dog, or have you already beat me to it Hangman?” Bradley questioned with a raised brow. “Bets are you have.” he had a cruel smirk, a sinister smile that made you shiver every time you heard it. 

“Anything to keep the likes of you out of my city Bradshaw.” Jake spat, Rooster wore three identifiable scars on his face–courtesy of an altercation he once had with Jake. Ever since? Tensions between the pair had been far too high and all it was going to take for an all out war to begin would be one simple trigger. That trigger for Jake could very well be Braldey Bradshaw stepping into his territory just to fuck with him, or for Bradley it could very well be Jake Seresin trying to capitalise on the booming drug market amongst the current youth of today, outsourcing quality product from interstate. Darlinghurst to be specific. It hadnt taken long for Bradley to figure out who’d been buying out all his dealers. “

You couldn’t breathe as Roosters henchman choked you out, so much so your vision had begun to blur. Splattering as you gasped for air, any amount to keep you breathing. The noises akin to whimpers irritated the seemingly emotionless Darlinghurst Danger—Bradley groaned as he held the bridge of his nose between his index finger and his thumb, frustrated with the noises escaping you. 

“Payback—shut her the fuck up will you?” He ordered Payback, or Reuban Fitch Jake would later bring you up to speed with, covered your mouth with his free hand, one arm now wrapped around your throat tighter than ever—the other over your mouth. “Fuck, finally I can hear myself think!” 

“She’s a kid—“ Jake reminded Bradley as he turned to face him once again, Jake never lowered his weapon from the clear shot he had at Bradshaw. All it would take to end this would be one. single. shot. But Jake knew if he shot Bradley Bradshaw he’d start an all out war. “The South Side is a drop in the ocean to you Bradshaw—”

“I’ve always wondered, Seresin, Do the carpets match the drapes with this one or is it nothing but slick city?” Bradley asked, he knew something was up the minute he saw you pull up in the drive with none other than Jake Seresin himself. “I bet she must have put out big time for you to be playing guard dog? And yet here you stand? Calling her a kid?” 

“I don’t give a shit what you do to her Bradshaw but if you kill her before I stake my claim on the South Side I’ll blow your fucking brain out.” Your heart stung. Damn, Jake really didn’t give a shit after all, not even a little bit. He was just doing this to make his mark, claim his piece of the south–at least fifty percent of it anyway. “I need her, so unless you wanna have a problem with me I highly suggest you have your guy here drop her.” Jake had meant what he said, he did need you–but not for the reason you currently thought. “Before I shoot you in the fucking neck.” 

On the inside Jake was panicking, but on the outside he remained as collected as he always was. Jake was playing with fire, he knew he was walking a tightrope, trying to convince Bradley that doing business with you was useless because you were a none threat to both of them. But that was a lie Bradley could smell a mile away. 

“Huh.” Bradley chuckled to himself before deciding he’d had enough of Jake's garage. “So I guess if you don’t give a shit about Widow, you wouldn’t really care if I just—“ Before Jake could register what Bradley was about to do, he was turning to fire a single round through your left shoulder as Reuban dropped your almost unconscious body to the ground. Jake froze like he’d been frozen in time—everything felt like it was playing out in slow motion around him as you hit the ground. No. no it wasn't supposed to go like this. 

“YOU MOTHER FUCKER!” Jake shouted as the image of you falling to the ground in a heap before him blinded him. He fired a hail of bullets into the kitchen as Rooster ducked for cover— making his way through the house towards the front door. Payback knowing Jake would be focused on his boss opted from the same way Jake had gained access, the back door. But he knew it wasn't the last time he'd see him. 

Bradley haphazardly looked over his shoulder as he fired back at Jake, an all out gun fight breaking up between the two of them. A war. 

“Never took you for one to take orders from a woman Seresin, can’t wait to tell the others swarming around Fitzroy just how pussy whipped you truly are!” It was a threat that meant more than Jake could comprehend at the time. “But then again what’s a King without his Queen?” Bradley fired round around towards Jake who was now crouching behind the table, watching as you laid still on the tiles covered in thick blood. He had a choice, go after Bradshaw right this second and finish a war which had only just started…. 

Or help you. 

“Fuck—” Jake hissed at himself as he gritted his teeth. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” His hand collided against the wall in a fist as he reached for his phone, dialling the only person he knew could help. The slam of the front door brought him out of his slight trace, the sudden ceasefire of guns stilled the house as Jake jutted his head out to take a quick look around. Bradley Bradshaw was gone. 

What had Jake just started? 

Rushing quickly to your side, Jake's eyes went wide at the amount of blood you had already lost. “Fuck—“ In that moment, Jake came to the realisation he actually cared a hell of a lot more about you than he cared to admit to even himself. Which all things considered was a hell of a lot. 

“Jake, I swear if you let me die I’ll fucking kill you.” You groaned, coughing blood as you tried to fight off unconsciousness from the lack of blood. “I’ll—I’ll ki—“ 

“Hey, I got you.” Jake pushed your hair from your forehead as he crouched beside you. “Just stay awake alright? Can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Jake spoke as softly and as gently as you’d ever heard him, for a second you thought you’d already died. He’d never sounded so caring, so kind. Jake Seresin wasn't a kind man, but for you he'd be just about anything. A friend, a partner, a protector. 

Jake gently applied pressure over your shoulder before placing the phone to his ear to listen to the dial tone. Calling the one person Jake knew could help. 

“You’re gonna be alright Y/n, keep those beautiful eyes on me yeah? Don’t you go sleeping on me, we both know you're too fucking heavy to carry limp.” Teasing, Jake watched the corner of your bloodied lip turn upright, even if it was just for a split second he knew you were still there. The groan of utter agony you let out as he applied more pressure though broke his heart. 

“Jesus Jake it’s 3am?” The husky voice came through the phone, forcing Jake to breathe out a sigh of relief because he knew he wasn't alone. “What could you possibly need right now?”

“Bob I need you man, it’s serious—“ Jake was breathing far too heavy into the phone for Robert Floyd to be remotely comfortable with, sitting up with a hiss in his bed, Bob turned to see how wife was still sleeping soundly beside him. He soon reached out to the bedside table that he’d sat his glasses on, placing them on the bridge of his nose. “Bring anything to fix a bullet wound to the south side, Y/n’s place.” 

Bob frowned, taking his phone away from his ear for a second to read the caller ID once more. Yep. This was Jake Seresin calling, so why the fuck was he on the South Side of Fitzroy and why the hell was he with you of all people? 

“What the hell? Are you good Jake? Why are you with Widow? What ar-“

“ROBERT! No time, just hurry!” Jake hung up before resting against the wall, sliding you onto his lap so he could keep pressure on your shoulder. “I’ve got you, pretty girl, gonna be alright, gonna be all okay and we’ll fix this together.” Jake, for the first time in his life, felt guilty, he had a clean shot he should have just taken it. Whispering as he stroked your head with the hand not stopping the bleeding.

“S-So much for fu-fuckin protection.” You shuttered before coughing slightly in Jake's warm embrace. Wondering just how much of what he;d said to you was true and what was just bullshit, knowing that Jake could be an utter liar when he needed to be in order to get what he wanted. You'd just fallen for his charm. Shame. On. You. 

“Bob’s gonna fix you up darlin—you’ll be alright, can't get out of this that easily, you’ve got an entire Enterprise to run.” You didn’t answer, your shallow breathing almost unnoticeable as Jake leaned over you slightly to see if your eyes were still open, if you were still with him. 

You weren’t. 

“Widow? Open your fucking eyes!”

-------------------------------------------------

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[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Nineteen: Chasing Away The Winter Blues

Summary- 4.2k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. It's time for that sunshine, sand, and sex you had been looking forward to. Reuniting with your sister and meeting her family, you and Curtis enjoy a vacation away from the winter storms plaguing Minnesota currently.

Warnings- Plus-sized reader dealing with fitting in small spaces. (Airplanes, if you know, you know.) Sexy times with mouth being covered.

A/N- Hey everyone! Thank you so much for reading and sharing this series. Special shout out to @what-is-your-plan-today for editing this. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics. Please give a share, I so appreciate it. I also LOVE hearing your thoughts about this series. Thank you.

Chapter Eighteen / Masterlist

“Jade, we are getting on the plane now, so I got to go.” You said into the phone while Curtis waited for you outside of the terminal while you listened to your sister tell you last minute details, when you finally heard her say love you, you took that as the time to say goodbye. “Yes, Love you too. We will be landing in Fort Lauderdale in about five hours.” You hung up and stuck your phone into your bag. 

“Everything all good?” Curtis asked, his arm lifting for you to join him while you two made the walk through the terminal to the plane. 

“Yes, she was just assuring me that they will be there to pick us up.” You smiled, leaning into Curtis to enjoy the feeling of his arm over your shoulder, his fingers lightly caressing the curve where your neck and shoulder dipped. When reaching the plane, Curtis let you go first, his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the narrow opening in a supportive gesture. You wrinkled your nose a bit while catching sight of the long narrow aisle. You hated them, your hips were wide and you always worried you were going to bump into someone on the way down to your seat. But you couldn’t stall any longer knowing that Curtis was right behind you and even though he wasn’t rushing you, other people were behind him. They would start to get impatient with you stalling. 

You took a deep breath and made your way forward, doing your best to not let your hips sway too much while making your way toward your seats about halfway down the aisle. 

Curtis let you take a few steps ahead of him before following behind. You led him to the row you booked for the two of you. Three seats cramped together, you willingly paid for the extra one so you and Curtis could have the space all to yourselves. Curtis put your onboard luggage above you in the compartment while you worked the arms of the seats up and out of the way. You were finally satisfied that the flight was going to be comfortable enough for both of you when he moved to sit next to you. He stretched out one long leg under the seat and let himself relax back, glancing at you.

“You okay Honey?” He reached his hand to clasp gently against your thigh, squeezing gently in assurance that made you smile. 

“I’m fine. Just ready to be there, you know? Flying isn’t my favorite.” 

“It isn’t mine either. Once in a while Nam sends us out for some training.” Curtis let his touch turn soothing, light brushes along your thigh to your knee. “Stay for a month in some hotel, then fly back. I hate it.” 

“When was the last time you had to do that?” You buckled in, the announcement coming up from the pilot that they were getting ready to ascend. 

Curtis did the same, counting the time in his mind. “Umm- three years. So probably about due for another one soon. Means you will get a month to yourself.” He winked and you made a displeased face. 

“What am I gonna do with myself for a whole month?!” 

“I’m sure you will think of something.” He smirked before dropping his head close to your ear to whisper. “Use those toys on yourself thinking about me.” 

You could feel the heat flush your cheeks thinking about doing just that. Curtis weaved his fingers with yours, holding your hand securely while the plane took off. Once in the air, the flight was smooth and you both passed the time reading or chatting. 

Just as Jade promised, she was there, along with a very excited little blonde girl who clung to her hand while jumping up and down. “They are here, they are here!” 

Caught up in your excitement, you ditched the heavy bag and went running up to your sister to hug her tightly since it had been so long since you had a chance to do just that. You felt like coming home when her arms wrapped around you and squeeze you just as hard as you were doing.

“I was so worried we might miss you, we had to dash in here. Parking was a nightmare” 

 Next you turned to Mary and moved more to her level, holding out your hand to greet her. “Hi Mary, it is so nice to finally meet you!” 

Mary politely shook your hand, giving a toothy grin to show off her new smile. “Look what I lost since we last skyped.” You gasped and Curtis came with the luggage you happened to ditch when you went to greet Jade.

“Oh, that is a big one. Tooth Fairy time.” You said cheerily. Mary shook her head and Jade rolled her eyes at the kid. You offer to take your bag back, but Curtis gives a slight shake of his head indicating that he was fine with your bag. 

“I busted Frank and Jade trying to sneak it out from under my pillow. The Tooth Fairy isn’t real.” 

“I swear this kid has no sense of magic.” Jade sighed at Mary.

You gave a shrug to Mary, winking. “So maybe no real tooth fairy, but hey you got a couple bucks out of it right?” 

Mary tilted her head with a nod, trying to suss out where you were going with this. “Yeah?” 

“Sounds like it's still worth pretending there is a tooth fairy, at least till you lose all your teeth.” 

“I mean… It is easy money.” Mary deducted and Curtis piped up. 

“Doesn’t get better than that kid.” 

Mary gave a firm nod of understanding, tugging on Jade’s hand. “I believe in the tooth fairy again.” 

“Ha, and here your Uncle thought he wasn’t gonna have to dish out more money for your teeth.”

She motioned towards the parking garage, the group making their way to the cars. 

Florida was the complete opposite of Minnesota, where they were having a full out snowstorm just after Curtis and you left. Florida was a sunny warm paradise that left both you and Curtis shedding out of your long sleeves and into t-shirts once more. Frank arrived home shortly after you all, sweaty, and dirty, but welcoming as he formally introduced himself. “Let me just shower and change, and I will be right down.” He pecked Jade on the forehead affectionately and escaped towards the back of the ranch style home they had recently purchased together. Jade ushered you all out into the shady backyard, showing you around while Mary exuberantly took a leap into the inground pool. 

“I see why you got this place.” You nodded towards the pool that Mary was currently splashing around in. 

“It was a selling point. Frank loved that built on garage and lot out front for vehicles and me… well the master is huge and these orange trees. Wait till tomorrow when we have freshly made orange juice.” Jade beamed proudly at the line of trees that indeed had fresh fruit ready to be plucked. “Plus there are extra bedrooms. In the future, Frank and I talked about possibly opening our home to fostering.” 

“Large garage and lot means I can bring some of my work home instead of scraping it at the marina.” Frank announced, freshly clean with a pair of light blue jeans and crisp white tee, stepping over to Jade, he gave her a more affectionate kiss to her temple. You felt so happy seeing Jade have such an affectionate partner, in some ways it reminded you of Curtis, who currently had his hand on your waist, tapping his fingers in a slight rhythm. You assumed it was partially nerves about being in a new place, but his touch was a welcome presence for you. 

“That helps, a lot.” Curtis nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah it helps me get to be here more often. I’m sure you don't get that luxury though I thought boat engines were big enough, half the time needing some kind of crane to move them out. I can’t imagine doing a train’s.” 

Curtis gave a shrug and let loose a soft chuckle. “Motor is a motor basically, but we do have some pretty heavy duty equipment. You would be shocked though, some of the parts are pretty damn small considering what it runs.” 

“Yeah well some day I wouldn’t mind seeing your operation.” Frank ran his hand along Jade’s back, grinning at her. “Sorry Babe, didn’t mean to unleash shop talk.” 

“Pfft, I don’t care.” She unwound herself from Frank. “Y/N and I are gonna go prepare the food for the grill, so how about you take your shop talk over that way.” 

Frank gave a salute, and Curtis winked at you reassuringly as he followed Frank over to the patio kitchen near the pool area. “Can I get you a beer Curtis? Jade had me pick up a bit of everything.” 

“Would love one.” You heard him say as you and Jade went into the kitchen to start prepping. Jade went into the fridge, humming in a sing song while pulling out a bowl of ground beef and veggies. “Wanna do barbecue burgers?” 

“I haven't had barbecue burgers since I left home. Yes please.” You said enthusiastically while you searched out seasonings. It was so good to be with your sister again, the two of you chatting away just like old times, giggling and laughing together. Jade started getting the burgers on a platter when she called for Frank, which he popped right in to grab them. When he left, Jade went and shut the patio door real quick. “Y/N, come’re…” 

“What?” You asked curiously while moving to the doors to peek out. 

“Look at Curtis and Frank… those two could be brothers or cousins almost.” 

There were obvious differences, Curtis was taller than Frank by several inches and more built. Frank had a nice healthy year round tan and his hair was a soft brown with hints of dirty blonde highlights whereas Curtis had his hair and beard so dark it almost looked black unless in the right light. But you could see where Jade was coming from. Their build was similar, wide shoulders and trim waists, both put off quiet, comforting demeanors.

“Guess we have the same taste in men?” You questioned as you watched the two of them talking over the grill, by the way, Curtis was laughing, you guessed it was more about mechanics which was another similarity they had. 

Jade snickered as she admired them from afar. “Well sis, I’m gonna say you have damn good taste then because Frank treats me like a queen.”

You went back to the kitchen to finish up, nodding. “Curtis does too, honestly Jade I have never felt like I was in a relationship with someone who treated me like I was an actual partner. Curtis is always wanting my opinions and encouraging me to say what I want from him. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m a project he is working on to improve, but still encourages growing together.” You paused to glance at Jade. “Does that make sense?” 

“Perfectly, you are not dating a self centered selfish asshole who criticizes you all the time. You don’t know how many times I wanted to deck Jake in the face for what he was doing to you.” 

You blinked back a few tears hearing your sister because she was right. “Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to bring him up.” She dried her hands on a kitchen towel and hugged you from behind. 

“You were right though, Curtis is everything Jake isn’t. I still can’t believe I wasted so much time on that asshole.” You dried your eyes and smiled. “I’m happy Jade, probably the most I have ever been.” 

She smiled hearing you. “That's all we ever wanted for you Y/N. Someone who treats you as good as you treat them.” 

You glanced back out the window, catching sight of Curtis who happened to glance up and see you with your arms full of stuff to bring out on the patio. He immediately broke from his conversation with Frank to go help you.

After Jade and Frank got Mary out of the pool and had her go change since the evening was starting to cool off, everyone ate till they were about to bust.

“So when are you guys flying back out?” Frank asked as he settled back in his chair, and relaxed with Jade after they put the food away. 

“So we are staying here till the 13th, then Curtis and I will be going to the Ritz for a night.” 

“Oh nice, I always dreamed of going to stay there.” Jade dropped not so subtle hints and Frank dropped his head like he was in defeat. 

“You really wanna go stay there when all your stuff is here? I promise I can make this as good as the Ritz for you.” Rubbing his hands together. “Give you the best massage ever.” Jade gave a pondering look. 

“You gonna bring me breakfast in bed and let me lounge in the hot tub?” 

Frank winked. “As soon as I get a hot tub in.” 

Jade sighed. “That’s what I thought. I'd rather go to the Ritz.”  

Mary nearby was playing on her tablet when she started yawning and slouching in her chair, Frank gathered his protesting niece to bring her inside. “But I’m not tired.” 

“I know kiddo, but we are getting tired too, Jade is gonna show Y/N and Curtis their bedroom.” 

“Oh. Okay. You are so old Frank.” She grumbled sleepily, letting her head rest on her uncle's shoulder while he disappeared with her into the house.

Frank rubbed at her back while carrying her away. “Guess who gets to take care of me when I’m really old?” They disappeared into the depths of the house, making you all miss Mary’s response. 

“She is a pretty cool kid.” Curtis said, making you lean into him. “Did you hear her give me a lesson on what constellations are out tonight?” You giggled while nodding. 

“Mary is pretty awesome.” Jade smiled fondly. “The day I met her for our first outing, she outright told me that Frank thought I was pretty. She rarely holds anything back. The man just about stumbled over himself trying to explain what he said.” Jade laughed as she recalled the meeting. “Also I told her to let you guys sleep in. So don't worry about getting up too early.” 

“That’s good cause I think Y/N has been dreaming about being able to sleep in.” Curtis teased and you huffed out. 

“Well, I am on vacation.” 

Frank rejoined the get together, settling back next to Jade and letting his arm lope over her shoulders. “I’m all for sleeping in, tomorrow is Saturday.” He smirked a bit at Jade and she rolled her eyes, smacking at him. 

“Sleeping in Frank, that's all I’m planning on doing.”  Jade turned towards you and Curtis. “I forgot to tell you, later this week Frank was able to get a yacht for us to use, and he knows all the best spots.” 

“That sounds incredible Frank, thank you!” You said excitedly. 

“I got lucky, I just did an overhaul on it and the owner wanted us to have a day on it before he took it back. Want to make sure you guys wanna come back for another visit.” Frank tried making it sound like it wasn’t a big deal but it was apparent he was happy that he could show you and Curtis a good time. 

“You have already done that.” Curtis assured Jade and Frank, glancing down at you. You too seemed sleepy, your head leaning onto Curtis’s shoulder now and then and your smile got a soft kind of dopey that it did when you had a long day. “But I’m ready to call it a night. I’m beat after traveling.” 

You stretched next to him, tossing him a subtle grateful smile while pushing to a stand. “Me too, Jade and Frank, thank you so much for letting us come stay with you guys for the week.” 

“You are welcome anytime Y/N.” Jade said while Frank nodded in agreement. She popped up to hug you goodnight and then to Curtis in a quick affectionate way. “I’m sure we will be right behind you. Night.” 

You and Curtis made your way inside, quiet as you both were sure Mary must be sound asleep by now. Once in the spare bedroom, you closed the door, the ac blowing softly near the bed made the room cooler, after being out in the sunshine for a good part of the afternoon, and you were grateful to feel the cool wash over you.

“Honey, you can stay out with your sister. It’s been a while since you have visited her.�� Curtis mentioned while moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You shook your head, moving to stand between his legs, his hands rubbing up the back of your thighs and giving a squeeze to your plump cheeks through the skirt you had changed into earlier that day. 

“I was ready to come to bed.” You brush your hands through his buzzed head, watching as he leaned into your touch, letting his face press against your chest. 

“Well, I’m most certainly not going to say no to you coming to bed with me.” He worked your shirt up to enjoy the soft feeling of your skin on his lips with playful kisses just under your bra. 

“Mmh, that does sound really nice.” You muttered as his hands squeezed and massaged down the back of your thighs. “And that feels really nice.” 

“Hmm.” Another kiss, moving lower than before. “How about we get in bed then and I can continue making you feel really nice.” You bit your lip while tilting your head back, enjoying all the sensations Curtis was giving you. 

“Okay, but we have to be quiet.” You pulled away to turn off the bedroom light while Curtis sprung up to start shedding off his clothes to his boxers. You worked your shirt off over your head while shimmying your hips to get your skirt to fall off.  

“I can do that, Pretty Girl.” 

You approached him, letting your hand run up his bare chest, brushing through the dark hairs that turned you on so much to wrap your fingers in his chain to push yourself up to meet him. Kissing Curtis was one of your favorite things, the way your tongues would glide together with urgency and his hands would gather you in close to him. This time he ran his palms along your back, flicking your bra off when you pulled back for a gasp for air. “You really do have to keep me quiet Curtis.” You warned, a giddy rush spiraling through you as you looked up at him. The room was not entirely dark, through the blinds some street lights cut through, letting you have a good look at his expression. 

“Honey, usually I’m trying to make you louder. I know I can keep you quiet.” Curtis said confidently, large calloused hands cupped your breasts, feeling their weight and running a thumb over your nipples to make you squeak. Curtis backed you up, making you sink onto the guest bed and shifted over you, replacing his fingers with his mouth. 

“Oh god.” You muttered, arching into his mouth while his chin scratched at your tender skin. You were starting to doubt that he could when you had to muffle a moan while your hand fell to grasp the back of his head to press him closer and the other to his chest, your nails scraping down to feel his tensed muscles holding himself over you. His groan vibrated through you, humming all the way down into your core as you arched against him, pressing your soft giving body against his solid one. 

He pushed the scrap of fabric covering you to the side to slide his fingers through your folds, his erection pushing at the front of his boxers, which he pushed down enough to give him room.

“Wrap those thighs around me Pretty GIrl, fuck I’m so hard for you that I can’t wait any longer.” You felt him heavy against you, his hips dropping to rub against you. Your hand that was against his chest reached between the two of you to rub his cock, your thighs spreading wider “Are you ready?.” He lifted his head to look at you, making you smile at his concern. 

“Very.” You pressed his thick tip against your entrance, letting him go when he started to push into your pussy, both of you failing at being quiet for a few seconds. You bit your lip, trying to muffle yourself while Curtis groaned at the sensation of you wrapped around him, his thrusts slow as he filled you. 

“Fuck Honey.” He kept his volume down, but couldn't filter out that absolute needy tone. It was such a turn on for you. “Like you were made for me.” Curtis ground against you while one of your legs loped over his waist to hold him close. 

Curtis measured his thrusts, feeling him get deeper every time. You were about to dig into his biceps, arch yourself to meet him, but he grasped your arm and pulled it over your head, grunting against your breasts he was nipping and kissing over “Let me have your other arm.” 

You traced his eagle tattoo with your nail tip before letting your arm raise above your head, his palm pinning them down together, and fingers stretching to thread through some of yours. That is when he started moving harder and faster into you. Being with Curtis could make you mindless, your soft whimpers pressed from your lips as you reached up to meet him to desperately kiss him. “I’m not going to last Curtis.” You harshly whispered against him, the bed creaking just barely covered by the whine of the ac unit nearby. 

“I didn’t want you too Honey, I’m ready for you.” Plush lips traveled to the hinge of your jaw, whispering encouraging praises. “Promise they won't hear you Pretty Girl, just let go for me, you always come so good, make me fill you up.” 

You wanted that, you wanted to feel full of him and you let yourself sink into that sensation, no more struggling to hold back. Your head tilted back into the pillows, your mouth opening as you started moaning a lot louder than the unit could muffle. His hand which had been on your hip to hold you still, went to press over your mouth, hunching him over your as his thrusts sped up, chasing his own moment. 

Your orgasm rolled in waves, leaving you tensing around him and crying behind his palm. Your fingers clutched at his to hold yourself in the moment, your eyes screwed shut for a moment till he grunted above you. “Open them, let me see you, Honey.” 

You couldn't deny him, your gaze shifted above you, focusing on the bouncing chain swaying above you. When he pressed down on you, you welcomed his weight crushing you into the mattress, his face muffled against your shoulder as his sigh of contentment was lost from anyone else but you. 

His cock throbbed in you, sinking his spend into you and making you feel full and satisfied. 

Within moments he let his hand fall from your mouth, and you tilted till you could press your lips against the side of his head where he was still smothering himself. 

His fingers loosened slowly from yours, gliding down your wrists to rub them gently, planting his elbow on the mattress he pulled himself off you, both of you sticky with sweat even in the ac cool room. “Was that okay Y/N?” He implored, eyes searching what they could see of you and you stretched under him, sliding your foot over his ass and down the back of his thigh. 

“Pinning my hands back, solid ten out of ten. I liked feeling you have control of me.” You wrapped your arms around him, rubbing your hands up his back. 

“And covering your mouth? I should have asked first, I kinda went with it.” He leaned down to kiss you before you could answer, sliding himself from you and shifting to your side. You rolled to face him, running your hand along his belly, tracing his dusting of a happy trail. 

“I didn’t mind it, I didn't think I would like that feeling, but I trust you Curtis. I know you wouldn’t hurt me and if I struggled you would have let me go.” 

Curtis looked relieved at your answer, letting his head fall to the pillow. You two were almost touching noses. “Good, I should have asked you before.” 

You pull in closer till he rolls to his back and you let your head rest on his shoulder. “Feel free to do it again.” You said making him laugh loud enough that you clasped a hand against his mouth. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist and started kissing your palm. 

“Got it filed away Pretty Girl.”

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis everett and honey #curtis everett au #curtis everett x plus sized reader #curtis everett and plus sized reader #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett and you #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes #plus sized reader

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Masterlist]

From Viktor x fem!Reader /Gothic AU ft. Spooky Sea/ Rating: Mature

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Tags (spoiler-y): Curse| Ghosts| Sea Monsters/Sea Cryptids| Sirens| Arranged Marriage| Tragic Love| Reincarnation| Slow Burn| Forced Proximity| Mystery | Dark Magic| Mentions of Death, Violence, and Blood| Alusions to Death/Spooky (?) imaginery| Eventual Happy Ending| Eventual Smut I guess|

Chapter One || The Beacon Amidst the Tempest   [2.5K/SFW]

Chapter Two || What Conquers Fear   [2.9K/SFW]

Chapter Three || All We Write [2.8K/SFW]

Chapter Four || Long Way Down... [2.8K/SFW**]

Chapter Five || When There’s Nothing to Lose [3K/SFW]

FIRST INTERLUDE| The Lighthouse and It’s Keeper [1.8K/SFW]

Chapter Six || Dire Circumstances Corner Reckless Responses [3.5K/SFW]

Chapter Seven || The Sea’s Call [Pt. 1]  [4.7K/SFW]

Chapter Eight || The Sea’s Call [Pt. 2]   [3.6K/SFW*]

Chapter Nine || Curses Trapped in Whirlpools   [2.3K/SFW]

Chapter Ten || Twisted Legends, Tragic Stories  [3.3K/SFW]

Chapter Eleven || The Tears Run Down Toward the Sea; [3.3K/SFW*]

Chapter Twelve || Like the Blood that Runs Through Our Veins [3.8K/SFW*]

SECOND INTERLUDE| The Crimson Tide [1.4K/SFW*]

Chapter Thirteen || Waterlogged Past  [2.9K/SFW*]

Chapter Fourteen || A Ghost Roaming the Coast  [3.4K/SFW]

Chapter Fifteen || Cold Embrace  [5K/SFW*]

Chapter Sixteen || Desperate Offerings   [1.8K/SFW*]

Chapter Seventeen || And They Whisper   [1.7K/SFW*]

THIRD INTERLUDE| The Stars in Your Eyes

Chapter Eighteen || From Broken Kindreds Come Restless Storms

Chapter Nineteen || All the Things We Couldn’t Finish

FOURTH INTERLUDE ||

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x f!reader #viktor x you #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #viktor/reader #arcane x you #arcane imagines #viktor arcane fanfic #arcane viktor fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #the tides have veiled #my thingies :)

[writingcold]

Hi there.  Welcome to Chapter 19 and Welcome to ACT III! Oh my goodness.  I feel like I should be blurting out ‘The End is Nigh!’  lol  So, here’s what I’m going to try and be faithful about - I want to keep this story tight and leave no one hanging.  That means, from here on out - I will be posting a chapter every other day, starting with today.  Let’s buckle up - it’s a bumpy ride.  Fingers crossed I can pull off this bitch!

If you are just joining us, you can find the Master List to the series here

You know it, but I’m so thankful for @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake and all the support they have given in this.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine.  Please do not take it for your own personal use.  I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story.  But it is mine.

Content warning: 18+ story ahead.  Angst, adult situations.  

Word count: Approx. 4000

Chapter Nineteen: Rough Roads, Pending Storms, Tasting Colors - Jacob

     Josh was running over numbers from the incoming counties.  The winter had found Jacob turning business like dominoes across the southern counties until finally - finally, he was able to get a toehold in Luce - splitting the county between the Diamante family and the up and coming Cresci gang.  Somehow, the twins had knitted together a conglomerate of thirty clubs.  All eager to garner larger profits to cater to the more glamorous crowds that even Michael Beauford was able to attract.  More importantly, they were able to maintain their channel to keep the taps flowing down to Chicago once the roads cleared to start up the game once more.  Their safe harbor of intake from Canada was preserved - a concern that Papa Diamond had expressed when they reported the new driver for Sheriff Porter.  The influx of money that Jake originally thought may be from the federal government seemed to be too much all at once.  The mob boss thought that it was more off colored funds from Cresci had finally bowled over the notoriously dry constable.  Regardless, the path not being clear through Marquette county was going to be just a small hitch in the season.

     “That driver had the balls to follow me in my own goddamn county, that’s the problem,”  Jake seethed, lighting up a smoke.  “He must’ve been trolling and got a bit of dumb luck to come across us the way he did.”

     “Cora is well, though, right?”  Danny asked out of concern.

     “She’s shaken pretty bad,”  he answered, not liking the memory of seeing her so frazzled by the ride.

     Josh tapped his finger to the desk to his own tune.  His eyes were focused beyond anything that resided in the space.  Jake knew whatever it was that was captivating his twin, it was best to allow it to simmer and not pick too early lest the words be sharp and bitter.  

     “But the Moon - how did she run for you?”  Sam asked, taking note of the lull.

     Jake’s eyes narrowed as he recalled taking the loop that offered a get-away from the tail.  “She’s a fucking beast, Sammy.  I had her to at least seventy-two and so far ahead of that fuck that I thought I lost him from speed alone.  She had a shit ton more to give, too.”

      “No shit,”  the younger sibling sighed, his own mind drifting to the engine that he knew inside and out.  

     “But now that he’s seen her fully, I’m sure he’s working on that Lizzie to see if she can try to catch me,”  Jake replied as he stamped out his cigarette.  “She will be the fastest thing in the region for a spell though.  No doubt about it.”

     “Daniel has news,”  Sam remarked as he kicked a long leg up on the desk much to his oldest sibling’s chagrin.

     “What news would that be, Daniel?”  Jacob asked with a grin seeing how his friend’s cheeks tinged a bit under the attention.

     “Well, thanks to Jake here, Molly and I got a house of our own,”  he said with a nod.  “That place over on 6th.  Picket fence and everything.”

      They laughed at the domestic feel of the news.  “Well, married life certainly agrees with you and her, Danny,”  Jake replied with a pat on the man’s back.

      Daniel glanced at the others before placing his focus on Jake.  “What about you, Jake?  When you gonna run that girl off to marry?”

      Jake’s eyebrows raised as Sam and Josh grinned widely at him.  He swallowed as he reached for his cigarette case.  “A lot of shit to get through before that can happen,”  he said quietly.       “Why?  Why wait?”  Sam asked, glaring at Josh when his leg was knocked off the edge of the desk with a hard swipe of his brother’s hand.

      His gaze was caught by his twin.  Josh’s jaw tightened knowing exactly why he was waiting to marry Cora.  He felt a tug deep in his gut as he lit another smoke before standing up and heading for the door.

     “He wants to make sure we survive, Sam,”  he heard Josh answer before making his way out of the shop office.

      Jake knew he was going to be late to lunch with Cora.  The week was keeping her inside the office of the Kiszka home rather than the bank.  They had moved all Lantern business there into the stronghold of home versus the public rooms of the bank.  With the influx of new clubs, each having a cut flowing through the Lantern, it was more imperative to keep track of the accounts in the privacy of the home.  Josh had entrusted her to organizing and keeping all of the books.  Jake pushed his way into the house, catching Mrs. Woods as she was sweeping the front hall. 

      “She’s still here?”  he asked as he took off his coat.

      “Kitchen,”  Anna said with a grin.  “Been cooking all morning, dear.”

      He stopped to breathe in the smell of food.  He touched her arm as he made his way back to the kitchen.  Through the transom door, he found her standing over the cookstove just as she was dropping chicken bones into a pot.  The grin on her heat filled face made him pause.  

      “Making a housewarming gift for Molly and Danny,”  she started as she turned to point at jars waiting for broth.

      He scooped her into his arms, kissing her deeply before she could move another inch.  Her soft laugh was like a bell to his ears.  She shooed him into the dining room for roast chicken and vegetables.  Josh joined them just as they were cleaning their plates.  She was quick to feed him as they chatted over nothing.  Although he appreciated that his twin was not trying to rob him of his time with his girl, there was obviously business to be done.  The original notion of running Cora upstairs and losing the entire afternoon evaporated.  She disappeared back to finish canning her soup while pouring over the new figures that Josh had delivered to her.

     “We have to bait him, Jacob,”  Josh said as he poured out a pair of bourbons.  

     “Don’t I do that enough?”  Jake asked, lighting up a cigarette.

     Josh took a sip.  His eyes narrowed onto a spot on the table as if he was trying to look into the future.  “Not what I mean.  We need more.  We need to know if this driver is beyond our Sheriff Porter.  We need to know if he’s tied to Cresci or someone else down south.”

     “We need to know his skills,”  Jacob whispered.  “He can outrun me.  That much I do know.  It means he can beat me, Joshua.”

     “In the Earl, maybe.  But the Moon-”

     “Doesn’t matter.  He is the better driver.  I know it.  He sure as shit knows it.”

     They fell to silence.  Jacob’s words hung between them like the smoke from his cigarette.  The vocalization of possible failure had never happened.  The fear of mistakes had never been felt.   

     “And this is why you won’t ask that woman to be your bride,”  Josh uttered.  “Really?  I think it’s a mistake, Jake.  I think it’s foolish to put the inevitable off to see if you survive this absolute doom you have prescribed yourself.”

     “It’s not fucking doom.  I don’t want her to have to deal with my shit if I don’t come back,”  he said sharply.  “I don’t want her to have to face the possibility of being alone, or god forbid a baby in her belly and I’m not there.  I can’t do that.  I just-”

     Josh’s sharp laugh surprised him.  “She would be taken care of regardless.”

     “Doesn’t matter.”

     “You’re so damn stubborn sometimes.”

     “Runs in the family.”  He took the last drag of his smoke, eyes hard on his brother in an effort to convey to move back to the topic at hand.  Josh blew out a long breath with a shake of his head.  “Before we think about baiting that bastard, we better have Sam go over every inch of that car once more.  Will you ride with me, Joshua?”

     His brother’s mouth tightened.  The curt little nod that followed made him push the air from his frame.  “We’re going to need to get to know Marquette County pretty well, I imagine.”

     “I’ll start studying now.  I think we could maybe create a bit of our own luck and utilize our new contacts in this,”  Jacob remarked as his eyes trained back to the kitchen.  “With all the mouths on the grapevine, why not add some voices.”

     Josh’s grin that darkened the corners of his mouth set Jake at ease.  “I’ll get on that piece.  Your runs have nearly tripled in size.  Perhaps if that information was to spill to the right people…  We need to put everything into place.  We will only get one shot at this.  Let’s get a few of your runs finished and supply moving first.  The end of June is looking to be a good target for another foot race, don’t you think?”

     Jake nodded.  “That one will be more like a marathon.”

     They parted just as Cora was finishing in the kitchen with her jars of soup.  Jacob smiled as she dried her hands.  The ridges of her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove making her eyes dance with color.  Her beauty was somehow magnified over the months from when she first walked into the shops the year prior, and exponentially so when his eye first caught sight of her in church when they first arrived in Kingsford.  As her easy smile creased her mouth, he reached for her.  He may be stubborn about marrying her, but his reasons were his own.  The notion of a life unfinished bothered him.  A life with remnants that were his responsibility were another.  He would never leave her in a position that would make for hardship the likes she has only known for years.  Leaning into her frame, his decision felt right for both of them.  

Chapter Nineteen Pt. 2: Molly

     The house on 6th Street was a two story affair with three bedrooms, a sitting room, kitchen, dining and a bath.  Danny had shown her that the two bedrooms upstairs could hold her fabrics and finished products in one room, while the other room could be exclusively for her working patterns and machines.  The set up was really better than any storefront as her neighbors were literally her clients and could access her at any time through the day.  Once she got herself organized, she had ladies and gentlemen waiting in her sitting room for moments of her time to measure, record, fit and repair as fast as she could work.

     Suits, church clothes, dresses and gowns for all occasions.  The irony of having a dress intended for Pastor Butterman’s wife hanging next to a new sheer number for Susannah for the chorus line made her grin.  She would work twelve hours a day then spend nearly six hours sitting with Danny in the Lantern and dancehall.  It was a boost to see her creations flooding the dance floors both above and below the boards of society.

     Molly had to admit, crossing the line from being a back of house kind of girl to being respectable was different.  Danny laughed like it was no big deal, but to her, being able to sit with her husband in church, or walking into the cinema on his arm was different.  She did this only once.  Opting to stand and walk with Susannah, although she argued about it and refused to return to the theater if Molly would forgo her place.

      Danny appeared early, his face tight with thought.  She was setting down supper on the table as he plunked down in his chair.  His dark eyes were quick to close.

     “Tired tonight?”  she asked as she set his plate in front of him.

     He nodded.  “Been a long assed day.”

     “Lots of those lately,”  Molly said as her eyes landed on her beat up hands.

     He reached for her, lifting her wrist to settle her fingers against his own.  “I got a reprieve for the night.”

      She stayed silent.  She knew what that was going to mean - that business was resuming.  Swallowing hard, she nodded.  “You leaving tomorrow?”

      “Jake and I will leave before dawn,”  he said quietly.  “It’ll be about ten days this time, Mols.”

      “I think I’ll miss the days when you would be gone three at a time.”

      “The price of expansion.  Instead of six trucks, we’re up to twenty four.  Jake and I are going to be rabbiting all over the place.”  He let out a soft laugh from his nose.  “Things are going to get a little hairy, Molly.  Something’s coming.  I don’t know what it is, but it’s going to be hard.”

      She sat back and watched as her husband started to silently eat his dinner.  It was the first time that she had seen a hesitation in his eyes.  She was uncertain if it was actually fear, or just a stutter in his understanding of what was to come.  Whatever it was, she could feel it rolling off of him like a Spring thunderstorm: the air full of longing for warmth and green that was still hidden beneath the snows, only to be met with flashes of light that held such threat but no bite.  

     She was wrapping her robe around her middle when he stopped her hands on the silk tie.  He backed up until he could sit down on the bed.  Molly let him wrap her arms around his shoulders as he pressed his forehead to her belly.  Her brows pinched as he did not move beyond the hold.  She was slow to realize that he was breathing her in, absorbing her touch like he needed to remember it for a long absence.  Her heart spiked in her chest and a sob broke inside her mouth.  She tried not to betray herself and show how weak she felt against him.  He needed her strong.  He needed her to show that she was resilient.

     He drew away just far enough to push the silk of her robe back.  Danny brushed his face across the softness of her skin.  She loved to feel his breath against the thin silk that covered her breasts.  He pressed the pads of his fingers into her back as he kissed the hard ridge of her sternum.  His touch felt different.  His touch felt full of regret.  Molly could feel it - he was full of hesitation to leave her alone.  As gently as she could, she bent a fraction to kiss the top of his head.  The smell of his hair filled her senses as she nestled down.  He tightened his hold on her and she tried to not react to the hitch in his breathing.

     He was achingly slow as he drew his fingers up to the nape of her neck, kissing the flesh along the way.  She pressed her palms to the flat of his chest, digging the fingertips into the hair she found there.  His eyes were liquid fire as he lifted his body against hers.  Her Daniel was beautiful as he wrapped himself around her, dragging the silk robe off her skin and throwing it behind to leave her in a fragile nightgown that barely brushed her knees.  He danced his touch along the thin strapping of the shoulders until they passed the edges of her shoulders.  

     “You will stay safe,”  he whispered as he watched the garment slowly fall from her body to land on the floor.  “You won’t go far from the house if you can help it.”

     She nodded as he traced the line of her jaw.

     “I mean it, Margaret Luellen Wagner,”  he sighed as he looped his fingers under her chin to make her look directly at him.  “Do not go anywhere alone.  Sam will be here to check in on you in the evenings, but if you need to shop, or anything else, Joey will be at your beck and call.  Understand?”

     She desperately fought not to roll her eyes.  Joey was not her favorite of the hard men they employed to secure the Lantern, but he was the toughest, second only to Henry.  The fact he used her full name just punctuated the seriousness of the moment.  “I understand.”

     He made love to her in the most unhurried manner, as if he was not leaving in the thin hours of the morning.  Each touch, each thrust she relished as the love poured out of him.  His body, hot and tacky against her cool skin made her moan with a pleasure that electrified the air between them.  Just when she thought he was spent, he reached for her again.  She tried not to allow him to see the tears that escaped from the corners of her eyes, but Molly failed.  He kissed them away and dragged her all the closer for it.

     There was a quietness that stretched into their night.  He lay with her, holding tight against her hip.  She still loved watching his chest heaving after making love.  She danced her fingertips across the expanse of skin in hope of showing him that she would not be afraid of whatever was stalking them out in the beyond.  

Chapter Nineteen Pt. 3: Susannah

     Susannah felt like her body was encased in a leaden tomb.  She tried to push back the blankets that covered her, but her limbs refused to move.  The darkness of the room told her that it was night, but the brightness of her mind wanted it to be day so that Sam would come to visit.  Instead, she felt her damp cheeks flare red in the dark with anger and helplessness that she knew was ridiculous but could not be told to be gone.  Not with any words.  Not with any actions.  Her breath felt weird and halting as she fought the depths of whatever pit was trying to grasp hold of her.

     She reached for the laudanum, only to find that the bottle was empty.  Her body ached with weariness.  Her brain was too dull to fight.  She fell from the side of her bed, stumbling across the floor like a broken doll.  She could not remember what Sam had said to her.  Jake and Danny were on a run and would be gone for a while.  Josh was going to need him in the dancehall on those nights she was working in the Lantern.  And then he was vague about his days.  If he was not working on the Moon, he was unsure where he was expected to be most of the time.  It should have freed him up to be with her on her downtime.  Instead, it was the bank.  Josh needed him at the bank.  Or Josh needed him at the shops.  Or Josh needed and Josh needed and Josh needed…

     Distance.  She felt it sharp like razor blades against her thoughts.  Samuel Kiszka, who had professed his love for her every day for nearly two years, was holding himself away from her.  The thought stabbed at her belly.  The thought poisoned her breath.  She dug in her medicine chest for more headache meds.  Surely there should have been some in there.  Her hands came up empty.

      What was different these days that made Samuel stay away?  He would not marry her like Danny had married Molly.  He could not walk hardly anywhere with Susannah after they obtained the bank.  More people knew the Kiszkas.  More people were watching their actions and their precious reputation was even more important than before.  Molly fought to stay by her side, but truly, what was the point.  Susannah knew the truth of what she was and those she thought were family were slowly falling away from her -  she was the woman of ill repute.  Selfish.  Unclean.  Corrupted.  Unforgivable. 

     Like the twinkling of a bell, the fuzzy idea, and the call of a demon, the little bottle of pick-me-ups she had buried deep in a drawer were suddenly in her hand.  The tablet itself was smaller than the tip of her pinky.  She squinted her eyes at it like it had willed itself into existence to rest in the bowl of her palm.  The air from her lungs spilled out with the last of the reservations over taking the tiny affair.  She popped it to the back of her throat and washed it down with the last swig of whiskey she found in a glass that Sam had left behind on the table.  

     Susannah lay down, her eyes heavy with thought.  The satchel she had packed months before had long been cleared, but the bag itself resided under her bed.  It could easily be packed.  She had nearly doubled her savings since the last time the idea of running tickled her thoughts.  It would not be difficult to reach St. Louis.  She had heard some nice things about St. Louis.  Work would be plentiful for a girl such as herself.  

     Her skin began to bubble with an energy that she had not felt in some time.  Looking around her house, she stood, feeling no aches, no pains, and best yet, no fog.  She started in the kitchen filling the sink with hot water for the dishes that cluttered the counter.  She no sooner blinked and realized that her house was spotless and even the wash had been put to dry outside on the line.  She stood in her bedroom, the satchel out on the bed.  She stared at it for a long moment before tucking it back under the bed frame.  Instead she ran a bath.  She would doll herself up the likes that Sammy had not seen her for some time.  

     Bathed, fresh dress, hair perfect and a kiss of lipstick, she sat down at her kitchen table with a cigarette held between her fingers like a screen siren.  She poured herself a glass of wine and waited for her love to breeze through the door.  Three cigarettes down, her fingers were crawling across the table in search of purchase.  Her eyes shimmered with thought as they crawled to the corners of the ceiling.  A cobweb fluttered, half hidden by the white of the wall.  Letting out a huff, she kicked out of her shoes before reaching for the broom.  

     An hour later, Sam finally strolled inside.  Susannah was standing on top of a chair, swiping at the cove molding in the sitting room.

     “A little Spring cleaning?”  he teased.  “And all dolled up to do it?”

     “You’re here!”  she boomed with a frantic smile.  “I couldn’t wait anymore and there was this web in that corner over in the kitchen and I just started and couldn’t stop and now you’re here!”

      Her heart felt lightened.  Her brain felt sharp.  Sam carefully helped her down.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he kissed her sweetly.  Susannah felt like she was fluttering from head to toe as he danced her around.  St. Louis drifted away.  Sammy loved her still.  His touch conveyed it and his laugh solidified it.  She could live inside that reality and be happy enough.  He laughed as she popped his suspender against his side.  Yes.  She could survive in Kingsford a little longer.

Give me a day and Chapter Twenty will be here.  Just be ready.  

I do have a tag list - you can find it here, or just let me know in the comments.  Thanks!

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#greta van fleet #gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #sammy gvf #sam gvf #daniel gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic au #greta van fleet au fic #greta van fleet x ocs #bootleggers and wildflowers

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Nineteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, DubCon, Fingering, Teasing, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, Corruption Kink, Subspace, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Sadism. (Also like…I know Snape is a Legilimens and all, but for the sake of the chapter, let’s pretend he isn’t)

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

“What took you so long? I've been biting my nails to stubs!" Emily's voice, laced with genuine concern, sliced through the tension-filled air as she hurried toward you. Worry etched deep lines across her face, mirroring the turmoil inside you. "Did he expel him?"

Your ears buzzed, the echo of Mattheo's passionate anger still resonating within you. Words spilled from your lips, your own surprise evident in the tremor of your voice. "Expel who?"

"Mattheo," Emily pressed, her brows knitting together in confusion at your reply. "Did Dumbledore expel Mattheo?"

"Oh, no," you said, mentally cursing yourself. You needed to get yourself together, and quickly. "He's...uh, he's making him choose between a months worth of detention coupled with therapy, or a mentorship program."

"Mentorship program?" Emily's eyes widened, reflecting the disbelief that gripped you. "Under who?"

The weight of secrecy pressed upon you, and you hesitated before admitting, a subtle excitement bubbling beneath your surface.

"Under me..." as soon as the words left your lips, a look of disbelief clouded Emily's eyes as she processed the revelation.

"Under you?" Her voice carried a tone of concern, threaded with caution. "I don't know if that's a good idea...I mean, he's trouble, and you know it. Taking on that mentorship might just end up dragging you down...there's no fixing someone like him."

At her words, conflicting emotions churned within you. Sure, Mattheo appeared dangerous and careless to others, but to you, he was your sanctuary, a paradoxical blend of chaos and safety. You acknowledged the storm that brewed beneath his surface, yet you were willing to brave it, ready to endure any challenge to help him find his way. Despite the maddening frustration he often caused you, the exhaustion from merely attempting to understand him--you felt an unwavering, inexplicable determination to stand by him, no matter the cost.

"Yeah, maybe," you responded, a sly smile playing on your lips, one you tried to conceal but failed miserably at. "But Dumbledore believes in me, I think it's worth the effort..."

As you continued talking, you noticed Emily's eyes darting over your shoulder, her gaze distant and distracted. Her features softened with admiration, and she seemed entranced, seemingly ignoring your words.

"Em?" Confused, you blurted out, "what the hell are you looking at?"

Turning around, your stomach twisted into knots as you caught sight of Mattheo, that devilish smirk playing on his lips as his eyes met yours from down the hall. Alongside him was his brother, Tom, his penetrating dark eyes also peering in your direction, the two of them accompanied by Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott--the lot of them making their way toward the dungeons for potions.

Your pulse increased at the sight of Mattheo, noting the clear anger simmering beneath his skin, a residue from the way you had left him only minutes earlier. Despite the tension, an inexplicable excitement coursed through you, fueled by the palpable frustration that radiated from his demeanour. Shooting him a brief, teasing roll of your eyes, you forced your gaze away from the group and turned back to Emily, who had finally snapped back to your attention.

"What was that?" you asked, attempting to redirect the focus of the conversation, though the memory of Mattheo's gaze lingered in the back of your mind, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. "Were you looking at Tom?"

Emily blinked, her expression momentarily caught off guard before she quickly composed herself.

"No, no, I wasn't," she stammered, her denial a little too quick and her gaze a touch too evasive, leaving you with a lingering suspicion that she was not being entirely truthful. "We should get going, we're going to be bloody late."

You agreed, deciding not to pry further while trying to shake off the lingering suspicion--and together you both made your way towards the potions classroom. An awkward silence settled between you, the weight of unspoken secrets hanging heavily in the air.

Upon arrival, you found yourselves among the last to enter the room, which was an entirely rare occurrence for you--so rare it was practically mortifying. Professor Snape, his patience worn thin, glared at you both.

"Late today, are we?" Professor Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm as he raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your tardiness. "I had begun to believe that you had a Time-Turner hidden somewhere, given your usual punctuality. Let's hope this delay is simply a one-time occurrence, or I might have to reconsider my assumptions about you."

His words cut through the air, emphasizing the weight of your uncharacteristic lateness, and you were so fucking mortified you were certain you were about to pass out. Every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on you and Emily, including those of a certain infuriatingly handsome Riddle boy, one whose seething anger was still palpable, even masked behind that sickeningly devilish smirk of his.

"Miss Everheart, front and center," he commanded Emily with a voice sharp as a blade, his patience clearly dissipated at this point. His gaze then shifted to you, his piercing eyes seeming to dissect your very soul. "You, sit between Mr. Zabini and Mr. Riddle, right at the back."

You felt a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach. You had never sat at the back, not once. The implications of this arrangement sent a chill down your spine. As you walked towards your seat, Mattheo's smirk grew, mischief glinting behind his eyes. He pulled out the chair for you, his gaze locking with yours in a challenge that made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. To add to your humiliation, Draco Malfoy snickered from the desk in front of you, his amusement clearly visible as you reluctantly took your seat.

Sitting between Mattheo and a clearly-hungover Blaise, you could feel the heat radiating off Mattheo's body, his proximity sending dangerous shivers down your spine. Being this close to him in class was doing perilous things to your focus, distracting you from Snape's droning lecture at the front of the room.

Snape continued to teach, his monotone voice washing over the classroom, not bothering to spare a glance in your direction. The rest of the students scribbled notes dutifully, but your mind was elsewhere, entangled in the web of emotions Mattheo's presence evoked. After a few moments of tense silence, Mattheo leaned in, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. He brushed his lips against your ear, his words barely audible over Snape's lecture.

"Karma is one sweet little bitch, isn't she, Raven?" he murmured, his voice a low, intimate whisper that sent your heart racing. "So, so sweet..."

You tensed, your entire body freezing at his provocative words. Determinedly, you kept your eyes on the parchment in front of you, attempting to ignore him and focus on Snape's lecture. However, your efforts were futile, all of your resolve blowing away with the wind when you felt the rough warmth of Mattheo's palm resting on your bare thigh. For a painstakingly long moment, he didn't move, just sat there, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins, leaving you both trapped in a tantalizing silence amidst the classroom chaos.

Mattheo's eyes flicked up to the front of the room, a calculated glance to ensure no one was watching, then to Blaise, who appeared utterly drained, his head buried in his folded arms atop the desk. A dark determination settled in Mattheo's gaze as he shifted his chair closer to you, his presence overwhelming.

"I think you need to be reminded of who's in charge here, princess," he murmured, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Don't ever think you can tease me like that and get away with it. You're playing my game now."

Mattheo's palm slid higher, eliciting a subtle gasp that caught in your throat. Your heart raced, a wild blend of anticipation, fear, and desire flooding your senses. Each inch his hand ventured sent you into a delirious frenzy, and you shifted in your seat, desperately pressing your thighs together, attempting to halt his audacious movements. The classroom, once bustling with activity, now seemed to constrict around you, the sound of scratching quills and Snape's distant lecture fading into a muffled haze.

Mattheo's fingers moved with a bold determination, inching up your thigh and slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt. A surge of disbelief mingled with a heady rush of excitement, creating a tantalizing cocktail of emotions. You squeezed your thighs together with additional force, trying to hold back the flood of sensations that threatened to overwhelm you.

A muffled groan escaped your lips as Mattheo's nails pressed insistently against your bare skin, sending a sharp sting through you--the intensity of his touch leaving you with no choice but to oblige, your thighs parting slightly under the pressure.

"Don't fight it," he whispered, his voice a low, menacing murmur. "You won't fucking win."

His hot breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, and internally, you cursed him in every language you knew, each word laden with frustration and desire, creating an unspoken battleground of wills between you.

Despite the desperation flickering in your eyes, you risked stealing a glance at him, silently pleading for him to halt his actions. However, as his possessed eyes met yours, you acknowledged the futility of your silent supplication. Mattheo was engulfed by an unrelenting determination and seething anger, his thirst for revenge propelling him to the precipice of control. It became painfully clear in that moment--nothing could deter his relentless pursuit of retribution.

All you could do at this point was surrender to him, and silently fucking pray to every God known to wizardkind that you could keep yourself quiet.

Slipping higher, Mattheo grazed his fingers over your clothed sex, teasing you over your panties. You held back a moan and bit your lip, trying not to give in to the pleasure that began to pulse through you. His fingers danced lightly over your sensitive skin, his movements gentle yet firm. Your hips bucked involuntarily against his touch, aching for more, and you heard Mattheo huff from beside you, clearly enjoying the power he currently held over you.

You stifled a groan of desperation as he began tracing small circles with the pads of his fingers, teasing your clit through the sheer, lacy fabric. You clutched your quill with enough force to nearly shatter it in half, the sensations making you dizzy with pulsing need. You grit your teeth, trying to steel yourself against his touch, but it only seemed to spur him on--his smirk practically radiating from his face as he slipped a finger under your panties, pressing softly against your clit.

"You like this, don't you?" He whispered, voice full of husk. When you nodded, almost impenetrably, he stifled a groan. "Yeah…my pretty little slut likes it..."

You shivered with pleasure, face flushing hot with shame, unable to deny the effect Mattheo Riddle had on your fucking body. His touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your limbs with every stroke. He moved his fingers faster, pressing harder against your clit, and you felt your body responding dangerously fast, the heat building to an almost unbearable level.

A whimper escaped your lips, slipping out before you could stop it. Quickly, you covered your mouth, eyes dropping to your parchment in an attempt to conceal your agonizingly delicious distress. Surprisingly, no one seemed to notice; the rest of the class remained engrossed in their work while Professor Snape continued teaching, not even sparing you a glance, his harsh voice cutting through the air as if nothing had even happened.

You were so fucking close, you tried to resist, to hold onto some shred of control, but the pleasure was too intense, the need too overwhelming.

You snuck another glance at Mattheo, your voice not even a whisper. "I'm..."

"I'm, what?" Mattheo prompted, his fingers slowing down to a teasing crawl, smirk swallowing his stupidly perfect lips. You knew that asshole wanted you to fucking beg, to plead with him for release, and when you couldn't respond, he huffed. "...dumb little whore...can't even put a fucking sentence together..."

You muffled another whimper of frustration, wanting nothing more than to skip all the theatrics and cum in his stupid fucking hand, but Mattheo was in control here--and at this point, it was clear he wasn't going to let you off the hook so easily. You were sweating, your breathing harsh and ragged as he flicked his fingers over your clit in a painstakingly slow motion, before he slid lower, slipping a finger inside your dripping core without giving you even an inkling of warning.

Your mouth fell open, and you bit down on your hand to stop yourself from crying out, your entire body trembling as he pumped his finger in and out of you, thumb briefly brushing over your clit.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he whispered, breath washing warm over your ear. "You're so filthy, letting me do this to you in class…”

Shame enveloped you, a suffocating wave that crawled beneath your skin. Your eyes darted nervously to Blaise, still not having moved since Professor Snape's lecture had begun. A strange dichotomy of emotions churned within you--an odd relief that he remained motionless, juxtaposed with a gut-wrenching sickness at his mere presence. The situation was undeniably distorted, a grotesque blend of wrongness and filth that seemed to seep into your very soul. And yet, amidst the turmoil, a perverse, intoxicating love for the forbidden events soared.

Mattheo slipped a second finger inside your heat, and you sunk your teeth into the flesh of your knuckles with enough force to undoubtedly break flesh. The stretch was fucking delicious, the slow sensual movements of his long slender fingers making your entire lower body shake in ecstasy, your eyes fighting to stay open and your lungs screaming for oxygen that always seemed to be just one more breath out of reach.

You weren't sure how much more of this you could take. You were so close, so achingly close, even without stimulation on your clit.

Turning your head to glimpse Mattheo, you pleaded with your pathetic gaze, tears brimming in your eyes as you met his sight. You were soaked with arousal and every inch of your skin had become hypersensitive--you could feel each finger as it pushed up and pulled back, curving inside you, massaging you in all the right ways. With every stroke, there was an overwhelming friction that sent deep shivers through your body.

"Please," you whispered, so low you couldn't even hear yourself. "Please."

"Please what?" Mattheo husked, your walls clamping tight around his digits as he pushed them deeper, "did you want to cum, slut?"

"Yes," your voice hissed, desperation lacing every syllable. "Please, Gods, please."

Mattheo's lips curved into a twisted smile, thoroughly amused by the depths of your pathetic desperation. In that moment, he knew he held you entirely within his grasp, relishing the intoxicating power he wielded over you. Every second of your submission fueled his sadistic pleasure, and he savored each moment as if it were the sweetest, most decadent delicacy.

"No Gods in this house princess," his words, soaked in power and need, wrapped around you, binding you to his command with an irresistible force. "I'm the only God you worship now."

Your vision blurred as he curled his fingers against the spot inside you that made your toes curl, and began rubbing his thumb in tight little circles on your clit. The combination of sensations alone was almost too much to bear, and you almost, almost fucking forgot where the hell you were.

"Mattheo..." you whined, chest tight, lungs swarmed by need. "What do you want from me..."

"I want you to know who the fuck you're playing with," he growled, low and deep in your ear, scissoring his fingers deep inside your heat. "I want to remind you who fucking owns this tight little cunt."

You muffled a groan, every fibre of your being shivering in response. You cursed Mattheo's skilled fingers, cursed how he knew precisely where and how and at exactly which pace to touch you, knew exactly how to send electric jolts of pleasure through every ounce of your existence with ease. As he quickened his pace on your clit, your toes curled, your head spun, and you were forced to bite down on your lip to keep from damn near fucking screaming.

"Mhm, yeah, that's right..." Mattheo husked, the arrogance in his tone nearly pushing you directly over the edge. "Apologize to your owner, little slave..."

"I'm sorry," as the pleasure pulsed through you, you closed your eyes tightly, trying to maintain composure as you held off your peak. "I'm so fucking sorry."

Your body was wracked with waves of sensation as you twitched and squirmed, trying desperately to remain as quiet as possible. The classroom had never felt so dangerous, yet illicit, as Mattheo's movements brought out a primal need within you, one desperate to be dominated.

Pulling his fingers out of you, he returned his focus to your clit, practically glowing from the pulsing, gelid feeling coursing through his fingertips. The sensation was electric, yet intangible--and he dragged his fingers through your folds, circling around your slick entrance before returning back to your swollen nub. As his movements became more deliberate, you could feel your hips start to involuntarily buck and gyrate, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes flew open, glimpsing him as he expertly manipulated your pleasure, pulling every single spark of passion from your body.

Mattheo hummed. "Cum."

Finally, finally, fucking finally--you shattered. Every nerve in your body seemed to explode at the same time--a thousand sensations pulled from every corner of your being. Heat washed over you, rolling and churning within your body--your thighs shook, the muscles working of their own accord as your hips involuntarily followed the rhythm set by Mattheo's hand.

You imagined, in this moment, that what was happening here might look completely questionable to an innocent onlooker--the schools biggest problem slumped low in his chair, leaning dangerously close to you with a smug expression on his face all while you, the schools best known good girl, shook and trembled in her seat like a pathetic little whore.

but even still, as Mattheo continued to rub you through your high, you couldn't focus on anything other than keeping yourself from crying out. You could fucking hear the heat in your breath and could fucking feel the way it burned on your tongue--you'd never known pleasure like you'd known this right now, in the back of the potions classroom, a passed out Blaise directly next to you, all while your Professor stood merely a few fucking feet away, entirely oblivious to the unholy sins the two of you were committing.

"You're such a nasty little thing..." Mattheo murmured, his voice torn with restraint as he shifted in his chair, fingers slowing their pace but not stopping. "You like being humiliated like this, huh? You like cumming for me in front of the entire fucking class?"

Your lungs shook, reaching for oxygen they couldn't find. "I...I hate you..."

"Oh, you hate me, huh? You hate me when I touch you so fucking good like this?" He sneered, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded, cursing him under your breath as his fingers teased your dripping core. "Then you could at least try not to fucking cum, dumb little whore."

As Mattheo slipped a finger back inside your cunt, you jolted, squirming in your chair, overstimulation creeping into your veins. But despite your body's protests, the man paid absolutely no mind, slipping in a second finger and stretching you wide while his thumb resumed its merciless assault on your clit.

"Matt..." your voice was shredded, sweat pooling against the fabric on your back. "I...I can't..."

"You can," Mattheo retorted, pace unrelenting. "You'll cum for me again...I need you nice and wet and ready for me..."

His words made your head spin, the pleasure becoming almost too much for your body to handle as you felt every nerve ending, every sense heightened to a fever pitch. As he continued his ministrations, you could feel your mind starting to break apart. The pleasure had become so all-encompassing that it was almost impossible to focus on anything else, much less keep coherent thought. You were nothing but a mass of writhing flesh--consumed by nothing but the feelings of pleasure radiating throughout your body.

Yet, even so, Mattheo remained undeterred--his fingers unrelenting in their pursuit of your pleasure. Each stroke only seemed to increase your sensitivity further until you were practically vibrating with every breath, feeling as though your body had turned into a literal live wire. You were barely able to keep yourself from letting out a scream as the pleasure built to an even more intense level, your knuckles turning white as snow as you clutched onto your quill like it'd try to run away.

"There we go..." he purred, the praise in his tone fuelling your crumbling sanity. "No use to fight it, baby...you know you love it..."

You groaned, so low you were certain no one heard it, except Mattheo, that is. He huffed, revelling in the fact that your guttural response had only proved him right, admitting to him that yeah, you loved being used like his dirty fucking slut, despite how inherently wrong it is.

And then, just when you thought your body couldn't take anymore, he changed the angle of his fingers, dipping deeper, sending shock waves of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to gasp out a muffled moan into your hand incoherently as he pushed you up the edge and toward your second climax. You back arched in your chair, your chin dropping toward your chest as waves of pleasure radiated outwards from your center. You could feel the pressure building within you like a volcano about to erupt.

"Mattheo," you trembled, everything around you beginning to blur together, your thoughts becoming distant and hazy as pleasure enveloped you. "Y-you need to stop...I...I can't-"

You weren't even sure what you were saying. Of course you could cum again, of course you wanted to cum again--but you didn't think you'd be able to keep yourself from screaming if you did. It was as if Mattheo had unlocked some secret, intense pleasure center within you and was mercilessly teasing it to its breaking point--taking you to heights entirely unknown, and you had no idea how to handle it.

"You can, and you will," Mattheo replied, cooly, swirling his thumb without mercy. "You're my good little pet, and what I say goes--fucking cum for me."

Without needing another prompt, you exploded for the second time--your teeth sinking into the skin of your bottom lip with enough force to shatter the skin without hesitation. The taste of blood filled your palate, but you couldn't fucking care less as the pleasure that had been building and building inside you finally crashed over you in yet another brain-scrambling tidal wave of ecstasy, and this time, as the aftershocks began rumbling through you, Mattheo slowly pulled away, dragging his soaked fingers along the sensitive flesh of your thigh.

"Successfully ruined." He murmured, the smug tone in his voice making your brain swirl. "For now."

You could feel sweat pouring from your body as you tried to compose yourself, taking deep breaths and forcing a straight face as if nothing had even fucking happened. But your body was still shaking with the aftershocks of the intense orgasms you had just experienced, your arousal seeping from your cunt as you readjusted your panties back into place. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your limbs were trembling as the sensation slowly faded away, leaving nothing but the aching sensation between your thighs in its wake.

After a moment of collecting yourself, you looked over at Mattheo, who seemed almost bored with the whole situation, having gone back to his studies as if nothing had happened. You couldn't even fathom how he could be so nonchalant after just pleasuring you like that. It was as if he had complete control over his emotions and feelings, while yours were still in chaos.

Trying to shift your focus from your body's reactions, you turned your attention back to your work, pretending to read through your notes and follow along with Professor Snape's teaching, but you could still feel the aftermath of your orgasm running through your body; your core still pulsing with pleasure, your skin still tingling all over.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the sensations as best as you could, but when Mattheo looked over, shooting you a knowing smirk, you felt yourself grow warm all over again.

He leaned in, voice a dark whisper. "Bathroom, third floor. Directly after class."

——————

Chapter twenty->

#mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheoriddlesmut #marcuslopez #marcus lopez x reader #draco malfoy smut #mattheosmut #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo smut #mattriddlesmut #riddlesmut #riddle smut #theo riddle #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #riddle x reader #theodorenottsmut #theoriddlesmut #severus snape #harry potter #severus smut #marcus lopez smut #tomriddle smut #tomriddlesmut #tomriddle x reader #draco malfoy

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

please read: announcement

a/n: reader is from house honeyholt, a small house from the reach. (this is a real house in the books, feel free to look it up!) nothing about the reader is described, although reader is described as having long(ish) hair. hair color, eye color, and anything along those lines is left as ambiguous as possible. (i apologize in advance if something i write isn’t ambiguous. we are all humans and we all make mistakes! please feel free to tell me if you have any suggestions as to how i can cater this fic to the most people possible.)

i hope you all enjoy!

—-

You were always told that you were the namesake of your house. You, Y/N Honeyholt of the reach, were as sweet as honey. And you truly must be, if by any way Princess Rhaenyra is addicted to you. After loving Rhaenyra in secret, you are torn apart and married off to your cruel husband. When you come back to King's Landing you find yourself entwined in the web that is Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

-

Married life with Daemon and Rhaenyra is pure bliss- but a war is brewing, and despite your efforts, you and your family are caught in it.

-

Through longing and distance, blood and tears, you are still as entwined in Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen as ever, but finding yourself as well. You realize you are not the sun- but instead a Queen.

—-

Part One - Fire is the Sweetest Death

Chapter One - Wait for Me

Chapter Two - Blind Me

Chapter Three - Away From You

Chapter Four - To Live

Chapter Five - Burn Together

Chapter Six - Darkest Thing

Chapter Seven - Sweetest Thing

Chapter Eight - Idea of It

Chapter Nine - Fire Made Flesh

Chapter Ten - Freedom

Chapter Eleven - Eternally

Chapter Twelve - Silk Sheets

Chapter Thirteen - Storms

Chapter Fourteen - The Sun

Chapter Fifteen - Bound in Blood

Part Two - Your Light Drowns the Sun

Chapter Sixteen - He is the Night

Chapter Seventeen - Memorize Me

Chapter Eighteen - I Made You

Chapter Nineteen - Do You Believe Me?

Chapter Twenty - I Am Your Sword

Chapter Twenty One - Like You Mean It

Chapter Twenty Two - The Queen

Chapter Twenty Three - To Break

Chapter Twenty Four - Pawn

Chapter Twenty Five - Don’t Say You Love Me

Chapter Twenty Six - Lady Targaryen

Part Three - The Sun Misses the Stars

Chapter Twenty Seven - Return Me

Chapter Twenty Eight - Ship at Sea

Chapter Twenty Nine - The Dragon’s Treasure

Chapter Thirty - Blood & Cheese

Chapter Thirty One - Waiting, Longing

Chapter Thirty Two - You Live and You Leave

Chapter Thirty Three - Blood on her Hands

Chapter Thirty Four - I Miss You on Me

Chapter Thirty Five - Take my Soul Away

Chapter Thirty Six - Death on Her Lips

Part Four - Don’t Fear the Flames

Chapter Thirty Seven - In the Setting Sun

Chapter Thirty Eight - Fight or Flight

Chapter Thirty Nine - The Meaning of Fire

Chapter Forty - Nuha Daria, Nuha Dārys

Chapter Forty One - The Queen of the Night

Chapter Forty Two - Do You Live for Me?

Chapter Forty Three - Good Men Die Too

Chapter Forty Four - Swallow the Light

Chapter Forty Five - In the Wind, in the Water

#daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen

[n7punk]

As Many Lives As It Takes (To Be With You) - Interlude: Three Years Ago

This is an interlude/short companion fic for As Many Lives As It Takes (To Be With You), my Nine Lives AU. It's set three years before the main fic.

Main fic on AO3. Pairing: Catradora. Chapters: 3/? (probably 8-ish total). Word count: currently 17k. Rating: T.

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Interlude Summary: At nineteen, Catra finally accepts help, even if opening up to Scorpia feels like it might kill her. At least it wouldn't stick. Word count: 3.7k. Intended Order: After Chapter 3 (after Chapter 2 is fine too). Notes: This is "skippable" considering it wasn’t in the original outline, but I wrote it on a whim and liked it, so have it over here. The real chapter four will be back in present day and up in a day or two. (Reblogs are off because I don't want this further removed from the context of the original fic, where it won't make sense).

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Interlude: Three Years Ago

It’s warm by the stove, far warmer than Catra has been since the summer gave way to fall and then winter. Sometimes she curses Bright Moon for having a full season’s cycle. Other times she knows that it’s better than the constant heat or cold some other places have to deal with. The rain from being off the coast is a lot to contend with, though.

Catra stays on the opposite side of town from Bright Moon Bay if she can help it — the last thing she needs is to drown, again — but the tropical storm that blew in took the rain to her. Absently, she reaches up and scrunches her hand into her short hair. For being a pixie cut, it holds a lot of moisture, and water runs down her fingers. It’s worse than her clothes sometimes, especially right now when she has at least changed out of her top. She feels uncomfortable in the loose uniform shirt she is wearing over the pants she wrung out in the bathroom and then put back on, but it’s nice to have something dry on.

Catra huddles closer to the stove, hoping its warmth can work into her bones before the scorpioni slowly moving around the kitchen decides she’s done and heads home. Catra isn’t eager to go back out into the rain, but any time away from the downpour is worth it. It has to be for her to come inside like this. It always makes her feel cagey. She has stayed in shelters before, but they scare her, maybe even more than this small kitchen filled with the smell of baking does. Shelters felt like a place where people would look for her. No one would ever picture Catra of all people here, bedraggled on the floor of a small kitchen filled with cutesy pink things.

“Scorpia! Anyone come in yet?” Rose says, brightly, looking up from whatever she is brewing on one of the freestanding stovetops. Catra flinches as the younger of the women becomes visible, shuffling through the open doorway to the shop. No, they haven’t. Catra’s hearing is on overdrive trying to find the threats that surely must be lurking under the stacks of teacups. No one who had anywhere to go would be stupid enough to be out in this weather. Scorpia shakes her head, throwing her mom a smile.

“I put a notecard on the counter to yell to the back in case someone does come and we don’t hear them, but I doubt anyone is out.” Well, that’s the first smart thing Scorpia has said. “We should probably head out if there’s a lull. Otherwise I think we might end up stormed in. Mom’ll be so worried.” Make that two things, even if this one makes her ears pin back. Heading out means sending Catra out.

It will be miserable, but at least she’ll be out in the open again. Safe. She guesses. Nowhere feels safe with this storm all around them.

Rose sighs.

“We can once I finish prepping things for tomorrow. I don’t think it’s going to let up. If it looks like it’s about to get worse, then we should head home, but for now let’s just wait it out,” she agrees. Scorpia nods, her whole body bouncing with the motion.

Adora used to do that, Catra’s mind reminds her. Traitor.

As if she can hear her, Scorpia turns her attention on Catra. Catra shrinks back despite how she hates showing fear. She just wants to ball up here and sleep forever. Lay down a blanket and it would be perfect. No one would be stupid enough to let some random homeless person sleep in their family shop — she can’t believe Scorpia even came out to the alley when the storm started and invited her in, much less that she accepted — but it’s a nice fantasy.

She’s only entertaining it because she hates being wet. It reminds her of-

Fuck, does she have no options that don’t tug at one of her traumas? Outside is open and “safe” — except for how it’s definitely fucking not, even on an average day — being indoors is being trapped, being in the rain is drowning again, and she’s left with nothing. At least the stove is warm. Scorpia doesn’t take her tail tightly wrapping around her ankles for the hint that it is and shuffles closer. She stays out of striking distance even with her stinger, but Catra feels a growl rising in her throat and quickly looks away.

She’s only proving that they should tell her to go, but instead Scorpia just sits down on the floor with her for some reason.

“Quite the storm, huh? Like being inside a washing machine. Just woooosh,” Scorpia seems to mime clothes spinning around in a washing cycle by circling her pincers in front of her. Something in Catra feels warm. The stove is working, then. She grunts an acknowledgment. Speaking words is risky. She has learned to spit teeth at any who approach her, but she has to hold her tongue when someone is there to help. It stings her pride, but she wouldn’t have made it this long if she hadn’t learned to take some kindness. Scorpia gave her more of it than she deserved already when she let her in. The least she can do is not snap at her.

And listen to her ramble, apparently, because she goes, “Oh, this one time…” and then she’s off telling the story of how they got stuck in an awful storm like this while driving between towns and thought their car was going to get swept away. Catra grunts occasionally and shuffles to readjust her position so the other side of her can get more warmth before something she can’t feel starts getting burned. Scorpia’s story peters out around the time Catra is readjusting her arm, maneuvering it with her left hand and tucking it into her lap a couple of different ways before she finds something that she thinks works.

She can feel Scorpia staring. She can even see it out of her periphery. It doesn’t feel predatory or anything, like she’s cataloguing her weakness, but Catra still pulls her lip back to show her fangs. She doesn’t know why she bothers when Scorpia’s stinger could take her out before she even got close enough to land a hit, but Scorpia raises her pincers in surrender.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude! It’s not my business. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do? I don’t know if a sling would help or…” She trails off, already looking around the kitchen as if she will magically see a medical station appear. Catra finally speaks just because she thinks Scorpia is five seconds away from standing and rushing around to find something. Tracking her all over the restaurant again is going to start wearing on her nerves.

“It’s paralyzed. Nothing is going to make it better,” Catra grits back. She can tell Rose is listening, even if she isn’t looking at her. Rose seems just as nice as her daughter, but they could both be deceiving her. Catra is almost sold on Scorpia. Rose… Well, Rose doesn’t directly remind her of anyone she already trusts, so she’s on thin ice. That might as well be the Catra equivalent of a golden pedestal, though.

“A sling could keep it from getting in the way!” Scorpia pipes up, like Catra hasn’t thought of that. She has tried, once or twice, with an improvised scarf or something. It actually just puts her arm in the way and makes her feel more helplessness. It certainly makes her look it.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt, anyway,” she mutters back. Except when people touch it, she doesn’t add. That doesn’t happen a lot unless someone happens to bump into her, so it might as well not be weakness. She shifts to tuck in her arm a little more, like hiding it from view will change the subject. Scorpia just keeps looking at her.

“If you want to talk about it-” Catra growls, “-not that I’m asking! We’re going to be here a while is all, and… I get the feeling you’ve never talked about it. Talking about things usually makes me feel better. Sometimes my roommate will just sit and listen to me while I unload and it helps a lot even without her talking back or even looking at me,” Scorpia hurries to placate her before losing the plot. Catra grumbles, tucking her face down into her arms. Yeah, she doesn’t think talking is going to be anything like that for her.

She doesn’t usually even acknowledge it’s paralyzed. She has had to say it a few times, but the closest she has ever come to addressing anything that happened was when she ran into her old classmate, and even thinking about that makes her throat tight. The way he looked at her- How is she ever supposed to tell someone what happened when she’s just opening herself up to that? Scorpia isn’t looking at her with sick fascination, though. Her eyes are just big and soft, like A-

“I fell,” Catra replies, cutting that thought off before it can finish. Watching Scorpia light up when she realizes that she’s telling her and then her expression fall as she remembers what they’re talking about is kind of funny. Scorpia always seems so open and warm. The light in her heart felt near blinding the first few weeks that Catra ran into her. Okay, maybe she just reminded her of someone and it felt like someone pulling her ribs out of her chest when she looked at her.

“That’s, uh, quite the fall. I’m really sorry about that, Wildcat,” Scorpia says. Catra feels something that might be a trill rise in her chest and swallows it down, tucking in a little tighter. She didn’t realize she was starting to uncurl. It’s just a stupid nickname, she doesn’t know why it makes her feel anything. It isn’t even a nickname, just what Scorpia started calling her when Catra wouldn’t give her a name at first. She knows it now, and her moms use it, but Scorpia still calls her Wildcat. No matter what, Scorpia keeps trying.

She doesn’t know why. Catra knows their family helps out other people who come around here – that’s how she found out about them in the first place – and yet Scorpia latched onto her for some reason and seems determined to fix her. Maybe she’s the most broken person that comes around. Maybe Scorpia isn’t used to people not immediately loving her. Maybe Catra is just her age. For some reason, she keeps trying to get Catra to open up to her.

I get the feeling you’ve never talked about it before. Is that all it takes? To look at her, see she’s alone, and want to fix that? Why? She has been alone for years. No one has ever really tried to help before. Give her a few dollars here, let her sneak into the bathrooms there, but in general, she has been by herself. Not that she has ever asked for help, but why would she do that? They wouldn’t give it to her.

Most people wouldn’t, anyway. Most people wouldn’t get hissed and snarled at and still come running to the back door to hand out food and try to make small talk while claws were flashed at them. Not that Catra ever raised her hand in a real threat at Scorpia, but she has certainly prepped her claws when Scorpia looked like she might get closer or got too chummy. Catra doesn’t know why she’s still trying, still being nice when Catra has never shown that kind of grace back. Adora’s mom used to talk about putting back out into the world what you wanted to be given. Catra has only ever given back what she got.

And right now, she isn’t even doing that. She wraps her tail tightly around herself and runs her fingers down her arm. Her fur is completely dry there. She probably showed it to the oven too long.

“I can’t feel it except when other people touch it. And then it just hurts,” Catra murmurs. She doesn’t know why. She just told Scorpia how to hurt her with explicit instructions, but all Scorpia does is nod with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Is that… normal for paralysis? Is that what phantom pain is?” Scorpia asks. Catra actually laughs, a dark chuckle that feels foreign in her chest. Yeah, big Adora energ-

She clears her throat.

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s just a me thing,” she replies. Scorpia looks concerned and it makes Catra’s chest hurt, but for once, it kind of feels good? She’s used to hollowness, or angry buzzing, or bitter regret, but this feels more like stepping outside for the first time on a cold night, a shock to her system and tightness in her lungs. Eventually the numbness sets in, but in this moment? It feels good.

There’s a warm oven right next to her. Frostbite doesn’t have to creep into her fingers.

“That doesn’t sound good. When was the last time you saw a doctor? I know it’s probably hard to, but there has to be a free clinic or something, right?” Scorpia asks. Catra snorts, her hand still on her arm. She squeezes. She doesn’t really know why. It’s lax beneath her fingers, no muscles flexing to harden it.

“Never,” she replies. Rose stops pretending to be busy, freezing as Scorpia’s jaw drops. Suddenly self-conscious, Catra hunches her shoulders. “I was- I was homeless right after- Actually because of-” She cuts off. She doesn’t owe them an explanation. So why does she feel like she should have one? Why are tears burning at the back of her eyes?

She doesn’t want a doctor. She knows this. Any time she gets near a medical professional, it’s dangerous and panics her. How much could they suspect this long after the fall, though, when everything would be healed over? When she can just tell them whatever she wants about what happened? They wouldn’t be able to help, she always tells herself, and she’s right, but the fantasy of someone being able to is so alluring. A fantasy of being cared for, and things getting better, and more warm ovens while she’s at it.

“I- You need to. I know you probably can’t afford it, but it can’t be that expensive, right? Just for an appointment?” Scorpia asks, twisting around to look at her mom as she asks. Her mom turns around and looks just as stressed. Catra’s throat tightens. No. No, she can’t even let them suggest spending their money on something that would never help.

“No. Once it’s paralyzed there’s nothing you can really do. Any money I’ve ever had has been better served going towards food, or new clothes, or a room for the night. Things that keep me alive,” Catra replies, shaking her head. Food, clothes, things they’ve already done for her. They don’t need to do more.

She isn’t expecting Rose to turn to her, looking like she is about to cry.

“You’re so young. How did this happen to you?” she asks, her tone distraught enough for Catra to know it isn’t a real question, just internal horror making itself known, but still her mouth opens and closes a few times.

There are tears in her eyes. That realization is the last wall crumbling down as she buries her face in her knees and allows herself to cry for the first time in a long, long time.

--

Catra hasn’t really been in a car in the last three years. Scorpia doesn’t question it when she curls up in the backseat, dripping again from the rain that came down on them as they made the run from the shop to the car. Catra is still wearing the employee t-shirt, her bag that never leaves her side on the floor of the car beside her. Rose said her clothes were still soaked and Scorpia could just wash the shirt and bring it back when it was time.

Catra isn’t sure when is going to be the time. She isn’t sure where they’re going really, or how long she’s supposed to stay there, or how long she’s going to stay there, but she’s so exhausted that she just couldn’t fight it or find a reason to say no when Scorpia offered for her to stay with her while she got herself sorted out. She thinks the offer is a few days, with the condition that she actually do something about improving her life.

She isn’t sure where to start. She isn’t sure she’s ready to start. But she is sure she’s tired of this. If she walks away from this opportunity, she isn’t likely to ever get another one, or at least not one as kind as this. She doesn’t know there could be someone kinder after she cried on their floor for two hours and unloaded horrific shit on them as she went through what she could – first the fall, and then the homelessness, and then further back with the “near” drowning, and by then they got the picture but they still flinched when she mentioned the window, and Rose was crying as hard as she was when she talked about Weaver.

She doesn’t know why they let her do that. She depressed them, she knows, but instead of telling her it was time to go, they started workshopping solutions together, looking at her for input and approval while she just sat there, stunned.

Her toe claws flex against the floor of the car and she watches them almost snag on the car mats. She doesn’t trust this, but she has lived every day of the last three years in fear anyway. Might as well be indoors while she stews in her discomfort, right? As long as they’re willing to offer it. If this can last just long enough for her to get in a program or something like they suggested, maybe she can get somewhere that she trusts is safe. She’s scared to exist again, but she keeps telling herself it has been three years. She has the paralysis to show as “proof” of injury from the accident. She can sell this lie. She had it half-formed in her mind already, from times when she has had to brush up against the story before, but she put together something coherent on the floor of that shop, she thinks.

They offered her a home, so apparently it was good enough. She just has to hope that whatever government employee gets saddled with her case thinks so too.

She tenses when they finally park. Scorpia’s apartment block is pretty big, but nondescript. She can’t really tell what it’s going to be like from the lobby or hallway, but when Scorpia opens the door for her, the apartment is in good shape. Nothing fancy or expensive except maybe the TV, but nothing is broken or stained at first glance, and they have enough furniture to fill out the space. The couch looks like it will probably be the most comfortable place she has slept since last winter, so she doesn’t really care what Scorpia’s roommate is like as long as she doesn’t try to make her leave.

“Entrapta! We’re home! I brought a friend,” Scorpia calls, her booming voice forcing Catra to pin her ears back. Friend is a bit of a stretch, but it seems to interest Entrapta enough for her to emerge from down the hall after a few moments. She cocks her head as Scorpia busies herself with closing the door and putting away her shoes. Catra considers waving and ends up grimacing instead as she drops her bag from her shoulder and cautiously bends to set it beside where Scorpia put her shoes. The thing is filthy.

Catra straightens up and leaps in the air when she turns around and finds the girl with pigtails right behind her. She hisses, her tail shot straight out and her fur fluffing up, but Entrapta doesn’t even look at Catra’s claws snapping out and her left hand stiffening into an attack position, she just bends way too close to inspect Catra’s arm, which obviously swung as she moved.

“Fascinating! How long has it been like that? Can you feel it?” Entrapta asks, pulling a fucking wrench out of her pocket. Scorpia steps up beside Catra on her left, waving her pincers a little frantically.

“Entrapta, you can’t ask that! It’s rude!” Scorpia tries to stop her. Entrapta looks up, blinking at her. Scorpia throws Catra an apologetic look. “Sorry, she really doesn’t mean anything by it, she just doesn’t interact with a lot of people-”

Then Entrapta touches Catra’s arm. She screams into her teeth, buckling until one of Scorpia’s pincers catches her on her left side and she manages to stumble onto her feet again. Entrapta watches her with fascination.

It isn’t a great first meeting.

#amlait #writing tag #fic extra #ficmeta #tbh im still undecided on sharing it this way so like. this is where it is for now #it may remain here forever. it may not. but it was not part of My Vision(TM) for the fic #and felt like it pulled it down as part of the main thing so. over here #no one look at my indecision just take the sad words #people who mostly post fic on tumblr how the hell do you format #this is hell #okay i've futzed with this for too long just fucking take it

[lucky-clover-gazette]

The Big Picture

The Four Swords manga, adapted/retold using both canon and additional scenes, with a focus on Vio and Shadow's individual characters and ambiguous relationship.

Chapter One: Who Am I?.

He crosses his arms and turns up his nose, looking from face to face to face. There are three of them—three of him—only one of whom resembles the him he thought he was, but now he’s not so sure. Why had he ever chosen to wear that green outfit? It’s clearly not his color.

Read the rest on ao3 or under the cut:

FEBRUARY

Shadow Link is having so much fun right now.

He rises from the sacred altar in the fallen maidens’ place, a low chuckle in his throat. Here he is, after a month of preparation—a shadow in the world of light.

The hero Link watches him in shock, already drawing his sword. “A demon!” he exclaims, while the Princess gasps daintily behind him.

Purple smoke clears to fully reveal Shadow’s form. He fixes his face in a slight grin, just as he’d practiced in front of the mirror. He’s going for a mysterious, vaguely threatening vibe—kind of like Ganon’s, except he’s actually here in person.

The hero’s eyes widen as he takes in Shadow’s appearance. “Wh…who are you?”

“Me?” Shadow asks, his grin creeping upwards ever so slightly, “I’m the hero… Link.”

The hero Link just stares. “What?”

Kind of slow, Shadow thinks, until he isn’t. Link rushes him, slashing his sword in a horizontal arc. Shadow is almost surprised—he didn’t expect the good guy to so quickly go in for the kill. It’s a lovely surprise, as is Shadow’s sudden translucence as the sword swipes through the air.

Link draws back slightly. “My sword went right through him!”

Oh, this’ll really creep him out. Shadow floats up to his face, too close for comfort, and unfocuses his eyes just enough that it’s uncanny. Well, uncannier. After holding that pose for a second, he rushes Link right back, grabbing the Princess by the shoulder with a firm hand.

Distantly, he realizes this is the first person he’s ever touched. She’s… warmer than he’d expected.

“Link!” Zelda calls out, gloved hand outstretched. Shadow would love to tell her not to worry, that he is Link, but that would be untrue on both accounts.

“Princess Zelda!” cries Link, reaching back. And for perhaps the first time in his pathetic light-dwelling life, he is not entitled to a comforting touch.

Shadow pulls Zelda backwards into the darkness, using his magic to send Link where he’s meant to go. He dispels Zelda with similar disdain, watching the purple smoke consume her form.

The Princess is fine, of course, simply stowed away for later. Half a dozen hinoxes are currently on standby to receive her at the Tower of Winds. Shadow almost wishes he could escort her himself, but his work here is far from complete.

After all, he still has a castle to storm.

─────────────────

Link awakens with a sword at arm’s length. Not just any sword—the Four Sword, sunk into its holy pedestal before a stone mural he’s only noticed in passing. Zelda has taken him here before, throughout their many years of friendship, but this is his first time alone.

“I’m in the Four Sword Sanctuary,” Link says, rising shakily to his feet. He must have been sent here for a reason, right? He’d been under the castle before, with Zelda, doing… something. Checking on something, because of a dream she had. Something awful was coming, she’d told him. And he’d told her not to worry, because he’d put a stop to it.

But the awful thing had been unexpected, and the hero Link had failed.

He feels like a child, not a young man of nineteen. He often acts immaturely—arrogant, overconfident, enjoying himself more than a proper knight should—but he can’t remember the last time he felt this helpless. And why does he feel this way? The memory is distant, almost taunting.

What he does remember can’t possibly be true. A twisted copy of himself, gripping Zelda as she disappeared into a cloud of dark smoke. Oh, Zelda—she’d been so scared. Her face…

He’ll save her. Even if he doesn’t know what’s going on, he will save the princess. It’s what he does, and what he’ll always do, until the far-off day when he literally ceases to exist.

“Where’d that shadowy guy go?” he asks, rubbing the already-forming bump on his head from hitting the hard ground. He can more clearly picture it now, the strange specter who claimed to be Link while resembling his exact opposite.

 “Zelda!” Link calls, refusing to accept her absence. He turns to the sky, searches behind crumbling pillars. “Princess Zelda!”

She is nowhere to be found.

“Princess Zelda was kidnapped,” Link pants, hands on his knees, sweat rolling down his face. He feels like he’s going to be sick. “She said something awful was going to happen!”

What can I do? How can I help her?

His eyes wander to the sword in the pedestal. The legendary Four Sword, that defeated the demon Vaati…

He grips the hilt. If he draws the sword, he might break the seal holding Vaati and his demons—but he has to risk it. He doesn’t have any choice.

Link summons his courage and breathes in deep. “Four Sword, lend me your strength!”

He lifts the holy blade above his head, and then h

─────────────────

And then he exists.

Link lowers the sword slowly, making immediate note of the purple pommel. It’s strange, he could have sworn—

“W-what the?!”

Link’s head turns sharply to face Link, and Link, and also Link.

“So the legend…”

“‘He who draws the sword will split into four,’”

“It’s true,” says Link. Only those words leave his mouth. The rest… did not.

He crosses his arms and turns up his nose, looking from face to face to face. There are three of them—three of him—only one of whom resembles the him he thought he was, but now he’s not so sure. Why had he ever chosen to wear that green outfit? It’s clearly not his color.

“Wow,” says the Link in green, “it’s a little weird seeing… three other guys with my… face.”

Link nods. He couldn’t have said it better himself.

The green Link smiles, pumping a fist in the air. “But four Links means four times the awesomeness! Together we can save Princess Zelda easily!”

“Yeah!” Link finds himself agreeing, although to be honest he finds his other self’s vocabulary lacking. Awesomeness? Really?

Their celebration is cut short by a strong gust of wind, encircling the podium at the sanctuary’s center. One look at the mural and Link knows exactly what’s happening—how had he been so stupid, not to notice before? Or even stupider, to notice and rush in anyway?

A gigantic monster forms out of stone, because of course it does. They just freed a demon, what else should they expect?

“Free,” announces a reedy, sinister voice, “I’m free!”

Link is already taking stock of the enemy’s possible weaknesses. Its giant vulnerable eye is of particular interest.

“Is that the demon?” asks Link, who apparently is the slow one of the bunch.

“We did break the seal,” growls Link, who must not be far behind. Ahead? It’s a mixed metaphor.

“Sorry,” says Link, the words leaving his own mouth. He likes the way they sound, the natural snark they carry. “I know you just got out, but… we have to put you away again!”

Taking the cue, the Link in green slashes at the monster’s arm with his own Four Sword. It smashes to the ground, which is good, but is quickly regrown by the monster, which is less good.

“His arm just grew back!” Green Link exclaims, stating the obvious. The others turn him, following his lead.

Link, however, can think for himself. “So what happens if we cut off all four limbs all at once?”

The others now turn to him, and a second later they launch into action. But the sanctuary is small and they’re used to fighting alone, so it’s not a surprise when the Link in green immediately collides with the one in blue.

“What are you doing?” snarls the Link in blue.

“It’s your fault! I was gonna get his right arm!”

“HYAAH!” Link cries out, slashing his own purple sword into a nearby limb. Unfortunately, his theory holds water—it’s pointless to do this alone.  

“Wait a second!” And here the green Link is again, saying what he already knows. “We can’t just keep flailing around! Against an opponent this big we have to work as a team!

“How do we do that?” asks the Link in red. “I’ve never worked on a team before!”

“Team scheam,” Link finds himself saying, the rhyme leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “I don’t need any help.”

The blue Link points to himself. “Ha! I’m a one-man team!

The green Link ogles the others, sweat on his brow. “W…what? I’m not really such a big jerk, am I?”

Yeah, he thinks, I am.

“I just became four times as selfish!”

The green Link falls to his knees, which Link finds to be a bit overkill. “Oh, father! If I’d listened to you this wouldn’t be happening!”

His tragic soliloquy is cut short by the violence. The monster roars, creating a strong wind that threatens to take them all. Link grips a crumbling column, teeth gritted in concentration. “He’s gonna… breathe us in…”

And then he sees it, flying through the air—a flower. Zelda’s favorite flower.

That flower…

He recalls long days in the castle gardens, spent beside his closest friend. But, he’s shocked to realized, there’s a certain distance to the recollection. It’s foreign and unsettling, as if certain feelings had been present then that he can no longer access. As if these are his memories, but not really his.

He’d found her beautiful, he remembers, before he drew the Four Sword. He’d wanted to hold her hand. But now… he can’t imagine doing that at all.

Losing feelings is one thing, but losing Zelda herself is unacceptable. However detached, Link does not want to abandon the friend in those distant memories.

It seems that the others feel the same, as they all manage to finally strike in unison. Severing all four arms at once, they finally see to their enemy’s demise.

It crumbles into pieces with a dreadful groan, but Link can’t help but notice a strange wind drifting from the rubble.

Still, he smiles. If only for a second.

“Was that Vaati?” asks the Link in green, frantically addressing the others.

Link nods. “He is a wind mage. That might not have been his final form.”

This sobers the group immediately. The Link in red puts a hand over his mouth.

“Vaati is free in the world again,” says the Link in green, who apparently has a knack for unnecessary summarization. “Let’s get back to the castle! If the legend is right, he wants to rule Hyrule.”

Link sighs and sheathes his sword. After all, when are ever the legends ever wrong?

─────────────────

Shadow lurks around a corner, chuckling at the aftermath of the heroes’ first battle. “Vaati is reborn,” he says to no one. He may not like Vaati (and Vaati definitely does not like him), but a successful plan is still worth celebrating. “Thank you, Link—next time we’ll bury you!”

The heroes stand in a circle, celebrating their false victory. Idiots, all of them. “The fact that there are four of you will only make it easier!”

Shadow laughs as he leans coolly against the crumbling stone wall. He’s not planning to stick around for much longer—in fact, he only stopped by the boring old sanctuary to confirm that Vaati’s release went according to plan.

No, Shadow Link’s grand debut is still yet to come… and by darkness, is he ready to perform.

#four swords #fs #my writing #shadow link #vio link #green link #blue link #red link #zelda

[triplesilverstar]

Some Winter thoughts

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI 

Pairing: Knives X F!Reader

CW: Dom/Sub undertones, light smut

Word count: Roughly 1.4K

A/N: Chapter Nineteen of the series, Nai is starting to realize you might mean more to him than he wants to accept

Knives had to admit as he stood overlooking the snow-dusted cityscape from his office windows that he might have needed to do a little more than usual this holiday season. The cheer that often came around the holidays brought nothing to him but memories of a time he would much rather forget, taking a sip from his espresso mug as pieces of white fluff fell from the sky.

Yes, he had a party for the staff working for him each year and had bonus cheques that were above the industry norms for each employee. Small expenditures to ensure his legitimate business workers remained loyal and didn’t question anything that seemed out of place. A brief appearance at the holiday party on the night it was held and then he could return to his office and continue to work.

Legato and Elendira had more than a decent grasp on planning and implementing such yearly events.    

In the distance, he could see a bright red jacket trotting through the snow in the park, with two bodies beside it. The color made him think of his twin, but he knew it wasn’t Vash down there trotting through the snow. He might not have agreed with all the persons his little brother spent his time with but the most recent addition who also happened to now be employed by himself seemed a vast improvement over his previous dalliances. That line of thought in turn bringing him back to a certain somewhat recent addition to his own life.

Three years.

Three years you have been his partner now. 

While the first year had been more a brief liaison he had assumed he would tire of once he had his fill of you. Yet instead, he fell deeper and deeper into the void of his own feelings the more the two of you interacted. Feeling his cock twitch in his pants as he remembered those nights of having your body bend to his, the way you seemed to suck him back in even when he was trying to walk away. Now however you were far more than a casual fling, you were his and he had no intention of letting you go. 

The past few holiday seasons he knew you simply went off and celebrated yourself, or so he thought until he learned you simply spent your nights at Flux still tending the bar. Yes, he knew you had no family except for Calla, the mercurial woman that he had come to respect after all she had climbed her way to the top and remained there.

He took another sip of his drink as he pondered if the reason was similar to his own. Even if it was, the idea of spending a few days with just you was appealing to him and making some traditions that would be just for the two of you. 

It wasn’t like it would be hard to convince you, you spent almost as many nights at his apartment with him now as you did your own. A small slide into his life. A pair of slippers in his entryway in your favorite color. A drawer at your apartment filled with a set of his loungewear and several pairs of underwear. Both of your bathrooms had spare toothbrushes and containers of the other's preferred personal products. 

Even if you did spend more time at his apartment it didn’t mean the occasion didn’t happen where he needed to remain at yours. All of this stems from the night of the storm that felt so long ago when he wanted you, not to have you in his bed that night but simply beside him. Dressing in his casual clothes and walking to collect you before heading home drenched but his chest burned knowing your hand was clasped in his and you hadn’t questioned him when he refused to let it go once inside his building. 

Looking back he knew that was the turning point for the two of you. He finished his espresso before turning to press the intercom attached to his phone where it sat on his desk. “Elendira, could you provide me the details for the holiday party as well as a confirmation of my schedule for the next week?” 

“Of course Mr. Saverem.” Barely a hint of static from the speaker, no chance of being misunderstood. Running a hand along his hair and feeling the slicked-back spikes before blinking rapidly hoping he could come up with a way to approach the offer of you spending the holiday together. 

Your eyes blinked rapidly as your teeth sank farther into the meat of your finger as your core clenched, so close to tipping over that edge that you were hovering on. Hips in the air and your legs spread as Nai curled his tongue expertly as deeply inside of you as it could go. Glad your face was hidden from view as you struggled to hold back from his probing of your slick walls, he’d given you a single command as he’d pushed you to the floor of his office when you came by. “You shall refrain from your release until I allow you permission.” 

Not that you were going to company about being pushed to the floor when he went to work with his tongue right away, then his fingers, and now back to his tongue again. Those long digits of his reached all the right places inside of you and you had been ready to come the moment he curled his index and middle fingers just right with a come hither motion. The only thing that was saving you was the pain you kept inflicting on yourself trying to stave it off. 

You missed the growl from the blond lapping at your pussy like a man starved, undulating his tongue over your slit and teasing the bundle of nerves before tracing the outside of it. You were a sodden mess and Nai didn’t understand why you hadn’t come yet, yes he had told you not to but it was part of his plan. Increasing the speed and flattening the muscle so he can cover your entire sex in one languid lick.

Gasping as he does and feeling a familiar zing along your spine your neck arching in time and you’re certain you’re soon going to break the skin of your finger. Nai slips two of his fingers into your core as his tongue keeps working, and the moment he starts to hum you’re done for. A low whine escapes you as the tight control on your body snaps and you come hard around the digits in your core, slumping to the fabric of the rug in Nai’s office. 

You can’t see it, but Nai is grinning like a madman glad to have you snap and he drinks down your release like it’s the finest wine pulling a second weaker orgasm from you that has you crying out. Pulling his mouth from your dripping sex with a wet pop, using the back of his hand to wipe his chin. “What a naughty girl you are, Pet. I gave you very specific instructions.” 

Pushed back on his heels Nai is undoing the belt on his tight pant and frees his weeping cock. “Perhaps over the holiday, I’ll have to remind you why following my instructions.” Lining himself up with your slit and pressing the head of his cock inside your fold, enjoying the slight tremor of your walls around him. “Is of the utmost importance.” Letting out a soft sigh as he does his best to hold back from slamming himself home in your welcoming cunt. “Now be a good girl and agree, I’ll give you the reward you don’t deserve.” 

Catching your breath you have to grin looking down at the pattern of the rug under your grin, of course, this had been another little game of his to try and get you to agree to stay with him over the holidays. The stubborn man just couldn’t ask you outright to stay with him, no he had to try and make it a punishment. “I guess I do need some lessons on why I should listen to you during our games Nai. I agree.” The word is no sooner out of your mouth before Nai is splitting you open with his cock, making you mewl at the stretch that is far greater than his fingers or tongue. 

The idea of having a few days of sex with your gruff man is damn appealing, and you lick your lips in anticipation before being lost in the sensations of Nai fucking you like an animal on the floor of his office while the snow floats down from the sky.

Back to masterlist

#millions knives smut #millions knives x reader #millions knives x reader smut #modern au #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #trigun smut #twink writes #knives smut #millions knives #knives x reader

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Here, Kitty, Kitty (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I decided to drop the last five chapters to this story at once cuz I'll be EXTREMELY busy with my summer job & I'm also working on a new fic. Thank you all so, so, soooo much for the love on this story! I had so much fun writing it. I'll be writing some brand new shit soon! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*************

TWENTY-TWO.

As May turns into June, the first week is rainy, cloudy, and depressing–the perfect weather for how you feel on the inside. 

You sit in your office now, dressed in a silk black blouse and slacks that make your ass look like it’s the finest one in the world. However, you don’t take pleasure in that or the fact that today has been pretty slow. You haven’t had any student traffic or other responsibilities, so you’ve had time to sit around, eat snacks, and nap if you want to. 

But you don’t. Instead, you busy yourself with building your schedule for next week. You sit at your desk with your planner, writing down any errands you have to run or meetings you’ll have to attend. An unopened bottle of iced coffee sits next to you–the one thing that will keep you running until lunch comes in an hour.

Outside your window, the cherry blossom trees tremble slightly as the storm wind rushes through along with the pitter-patter of rain. You hope that it won’t be like this when you leave today. You just hate water. 

A knock on your door stops you short of writing down that you’ll have to make a grocery run next Saturday morning. Nemuri stands there in a slim navy blue dress that fills out her curves and her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. For the past week, she has been visiting you with snacks, drinks, and encouragement. Though you appreciate it, it hasn’t been working much to turn your frown upside down.

“Hey, you,” she gently coos. “Mic and I are goin’ out tonight to the Hot Spot if you wanted to join us. Rumi and You will be there too.” 

The sound of a night with the pros drinking and dancing doesn’t sound the least bit appealing to you…which definitely means something is wrong. Usually, you’d jump at the chance to spend a Friday night out, but even the idea of putting on your sexiest attire and dancing the night away makes you tired. 

“I’m good, ‘Muri,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “I need to work on my schedule for next week anyway. I’ve got a lot to do.” 

Nemuri nods, but you see the disappointment in her eyes. You advert your eyes from her face, instead looking back down at your calendar where you scribble down “do laundry” for Sunday. You hear her come into the room, her heels clicking as she does. “Mic and I have been missing you,” she softly says. “You’ve been MIA for a minute now.” 

You don’t say anything. You cap your pen and push your calendar away before taking out a manilla folder for student reports. At the end of every month, you’re required to jot down notes on students’ progress for their teachers and parents, just to let them know how they’re doing. Nemuri leans against your desk, frowning as you uncap your pen to begin writing on Bakugou Katsuki’s report. “You’ve been working hard for the past week, honey. Why don’t you take a break?” 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head. “These student reports aren’t gonna write themselves, Nemuri. Not to mention I have parent and staff meetings next week and…” You stop talking, something in you telling you to do so. You look up at Nemuri who is wearing a saddened expression on her gorgeous face. “What?” you sigh, already knowing the answer. 

“Have you talked to Aizawa lately?” she timidly asks you. You scoff to yourself. She already knows the answer to that: no. You haven't even seen the man. You’re starting to think he was just a figment of your imagination with how quickly he seemed to disappear from school. You barely see him in the hallways, elevators, or cafeteria. He hasn't called, but neither have you. After how much you’ve hurt him, you doubt he wants to speak to you. 

And you can’t blame him. With how long you've been lying to him and Eri, you know he never wants to see you again. You don’t even want to see yourself. Every day you wake up and look in the mirror to get yourself ready for the day, you desperately want to shield your face from view. It is the face of a liar. The face of someone who is deceiving and selfish. You barely want anyone to see you at school anymore. You just want to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

You reach for your iced coffee and proceed to try and open the bottle, your fingers grappling with the cap that seems to be stuck. “No,” you reply, not meaning to sound so tight, but you can’t help it. “Why are you even askin’ me that? You know Aizawa and I haven’t spoken since that night he found out about the cat thing.”

And God, does it hurt. All you want to do is hear his luscious voice or see his gorgeous face. All you want is him, and Eri. Those two have completely stolen your heart. But you know you fucked that up. 

Nemuri silently watches you struggle to open your coffee. “He misses you, you know,” she softly says. “I’ve seen him lately and he’s not at all the same as before when you were with him.” Your heart leaps at her words, but they only do so much to make you feel less like a fucking loser. You can miss someone and still know how horrible they are. You’re sure that is how Aizawa feels for you. He may miss you, but you know for a fact that he goes out of his way to call or see you. And you deserve that. 

“Is this what you came in here for?” you demand, glaring up at your friend. “To make me feel bad about what happened? Well, I already do. I feel humiliated and stupid for what I’ve done, but this is the price I have to pay for lying to him.” You grunt in frustration, your wrist straining to open the bottle. “Goddammit, this cap won’t loosen!” you hiss. 

After another short turn of your wrist, the cap finally loosens and pops off the bottle before skidding across the floor with a metal clink! Both of you stare in silence at the cap for a moment, breathing heavily at the short but loud sound and the intensity of the situation. Finally, Nemuri breaks. Soft, sputtering breaths exit her mouth as she begins to cry and you stare up at her in shock. “I’m sorry!” she softly sobs. “This is all my fault. I never should’ve said anything! Now you and Shouta are miserable all because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut!” 

She covers her face with her manicured hands, her shoulders shaking. Your heart breaks at the sight of your best friend crying on your behalf. Especially since none of this is her fault. “Nemuri,” you sigh, guilt flaring inside of you. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t be taking my anger at myself out on you.” 

You get up from your seat and move to wrap your arms tight around her. She hugs you back, her tears soaking your blouse. “None of this is your fault,” you comfortingly say. “It’s all mine. I should’ve told Shouta the truth right from the jump, but instead, I was selfish.” You pull away slightly to give her a view of your downtrodden eyes. “I haven’t been doing that well this past week either,” you confess, already choking up. 

Nemuri’s brows knit in worry. “Have you been going out at night?” she asks, her voice low as if the walls have ears. You shake your head as the tears you’ve been holding back for so long begin to well in your eyes. “Not at all,” you answer, your voice breaking. “I have no motivation to do that anymore.” 

Even now your Night Claw fit sits under your bed, untouched and unworn for over a week. You moved it from your hiding place behind the dumpster, not seeing the need in keeping it hidden or outside since you haven’t been in the streets lately. You ignore police sirens at night and anything that comes up on your crime app. You have no interest or energy in catering to your city anymore, especially since the main reason one of its prominent pro heroes was down in action is because of you.

And then poor Eri…how is she handling all of this? First her dad is hurt, and now her furry friend disappears for good? 

You crumble right then, tears dripping down your face that destroy your mascara. “I just miss him so much, Nemuri,” you sob. Nemuri nods, encouraging you to continue to spill your guts to her. “But I can’t bring myself to call him or visit or–”  

“Ah, Ms. L/N!” You both jump, whipping around to see Nezu standing in the doorway. The small smile that plays on his face fades when he glances at your faces. “Oh…am I interrupting something?” 

“U-Uh…” Nemuri quickly snatches some tissues from your desk, handing you some. “Of course not, Principal Nezu,” she replies, respectfully bowing to him and using that advantage to dab at her eyes. “I was just asking Ms. L/N about a particular student I had in here today.” You don’t respond, instead silently wiping the tears off your face. You make a mental note to touch up your makeup later. 

“Oh!” Nezu exclaims in realization. “Well, in that case, I apologize for the random visit, Ms. L/N. I just wanted to check up on you and see how you’re enjoying UA so far.” You blink at him, your brain slowly processing his words. “O-Oh!” you stammer, clearing your throat. You plaster on a smile despite still feeling like shit. "Well, please come in.” 

As Nezu thanks you and walks in on his little legs, Nemuri tip-toes to your office door. “I’ll see you at lunch,” she mouths to you before quickly exiting your office, shutting the door on her way out. You stand there awkwardly, feeling like a hot spotlight has been put on you as you stand with your boss in your office. “Would you like something to drink, sir?” you ask, presenting to him your mini fridge. 

“No, thank you,” he chuckles. “And please, feel free to sit. I just want us to have a chat. You’ve been such a great asset to UA for the time you’ve been here, especially to the students.” You take a seat behind your desk as he hops up into the chair across from you. “Thank you, sir! It’s been a great and rewarding experience working here with the staff and students. I love what I do.” And you’re not BSing. You truly love your job despite your personal problems right now. 

Nezu seems to know this too. “I can tell,” he hums appreciatively. “Which is why I decided to visit because I can tell you’ve been looking pretty low lately.” His smile fades and your stomach drops into your ass. “I’ve noticed it as have others. Though you’re still here and consistent with your work, you’ve been acting differently. You’re usually so upbeat and refreshed, but for the past two weeks, you’ve seemed…down. If it’s too personal, please feel free to tell me so.” 

Your shoulders slump and all you feel is shame. So now even your boss notices your change in demeanor. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you sigh, internally exhausted. “I’ve just been going through some…personal battles. I’m trying hard to fight them though, so please don’t worry about me.” You plaster on a fake smile that Nezu sees right through. 

“Oh, but I do, Y/N,” he says matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you understand just how needed you are here. The students need someone kind and nurturing like you to talk to about their issues with. The teachers need you too. They can only handle so much! Your personality is such a breath of fresh air too. It’s influenced me, the students, and the other staff members…especially Aizawa.” 

“A-Aizawa?” you softly stammer, your heart fluttering. “I don’t–” 

“I’ve never seen him so upbeat,” Nezu continues wistfully. “He’s almost an entirely different person with you here. He’s happier; more…energetic. I’d imagine he is very grateful for what you did for him and Eri.” His black eyes gleam with something unreadable but it makes your stomach flip flop nervously. “I-I’m sorry, sir, but I don't think I understand.” 

He is more than happy to enlighten you. “Word around campus is that you attacked the villain Toyoma when he broke into Aizawa’s dorm. People are saying you were already in the room and quite literally tore Toyoma’s face off. I know because I saw it for myself.” He leans in as if afraid someone might hear. “I also know about your, uh…night job.” 

You swear you could die right now. Of course, your boss knows that you’re Night Claw. And of course, he’s going to fire you now. You’re going to lose everything. You grip the underside of your desk, your claws digging into the wood. Nezu just smiles. “You don’t have to look so scared, Y/N,” he chuckles. “I’m not upset. Do you know how many of our kids here have done the same thing? Besides, you’ve proven to me that you’re not a threat and still an incredible staff member with how you continue to handle the students’ problems.” 

He leans over the desk to pat your hand, almost as a friend would. “We need more people like you here, Y/N. People whose bright personalities rub off on others. Please don’t ever lose that.” His eyes twinkle with generosity and kindness–two things you feel as if you don’t deserve. “Sir…” You don’t know what to say. You can’t believe this is happening. You’re not going to get fired? 

“I know things may seem hard right now, but if you ever need a hand, we’re all here for you. Just continue to do your best and I’ll take care of the rest, okay?” He winks at you, an encouraging smile on his furry face. “Keep up the good work!” 

You feel as if you just won an award with how bright his smile is. Your claws retract and you release your death grip on your desk. “Thank you, sir,” you softly say, afraid that you may cry in front of your boss. 

“Of course!” he chortles. “Now off to lunch for me! Enjoy the rest of your day!” He hops off of the chair and waves to you as he exits your office. “You as well, sir!” you call, a giggle in your voice when he shuts the door behind him. 

When you sit back in your seat, you feel better than you have for days after getting that praise buff from your boss. It is exactly what you need to put you into a good headspace, just enough to tell Nemuri that you’ll be taking your lunch alone today. You need some time in the fresh air to clear your head and find comfort in yourself while you gather the courage to finally talk to Aizawa. 

So you decide to go for a walk downtown for a bite to eat. You’ve heard of a sandwich shop there that is extremely popular plus one of your favorite cafes being a choice. The air is clean and warm, and the sky is blue when you lace on your sneakers and take your walk. As you make it downtown, people are out and about enjoying the mid-afternoon weather, jogging, walking their dogs, and sitting at tables under cute little umbrellas as they enjoy their meals outside. When you make it to your favorite cafe, deciding to go for some coffee and pastries as your lunch, the outside eatery is already set up with customers enjoying their coffee in peace under the sun. 

As you make your way to the door, your hand outreached to pull it open, you hear the sound of pounding footsteps behind you. You turn, jumping back just in time as someone comes zooming down the street, running at full speed. “Jesus,” you hiss to yourself, glaring at the woman. She is in casual clothes–no activewear at all for the type of activity she’s doing. You pass it off as some kind of running club or her possibly being on some shit. 

But as you go to reach for the door again, another person runs by. Then another. And another. What grabs your attention is their attire: some wearing work clothes; others not even wearing sneakers but still running like their lives depend on it. You and the customers sitting by you stare at them in confusion, baffled by the change in atmosphere. “Da hell?” you mutter, confused. 

You get the answer to your confusion when a man wearing office attire runs by, panic and fear all over his face. “Everyone, run!” he hollers. “There’s a villain five blocks away from here! He’s destroying everything!” As if on cue, the sound of rattling cuts through the air, and a burst of water explodes from a sewer down the street, causing a car alarm to go off. As the water shoots into the air like a bullet, the people that were initially sitting and enjoying themselves beside you leave their posts, following the running people up the street. 

But you don’t. Despite your fur prickling and your ears pointing backward in alarm, you walk straight toward the danger zone. Even when you see more people running your way until you’re nearly trapped in a sea of escaping civilians. You press yourself against nearby buildings and inch deeper and deeper into the city. As you do, the destruction surrounding you gets worse–all you see are cars flipped over, cracked pavement, and water gushing from sewers and broken pipes. Your sneakers become soaked, ruining your stockings. 

The water problem only gets worse when you finally come to the city square and see the bullshit awaiting you. A sea of people and police cars surround a giant, quirk-made whirlpool that protrudes from a sewer in the middle of the street and towers over everyone and everything. From where you stand you can see that someone is, in fact, holding the whirlpool together themselves. A man floats in the middle of the whirlpool like a centerpiece, his limbs and locs streams of water that suck up water from the street, making his creation bigger and stronger. 

In front of you, the police have their guns drawn, some trying to keep the civilians at bay while the rest attempt to get a good angle of the whirlpool. The one closest to you urgently screams into his walkie-talkie, distress in his eyes. “I need backup!” he hollers. “I repeat: I need backup! We’re running out of officers and there’s only so many pros who can handle this asshole!” 

‘Pros?’ you think. So far, you haven’t seen any single pro here. But as someone from behind you pushes you deeper into the crowd, you get closer to the whirlpool. There, in the watery depths of the whirlpool, are eight officers and several pros you know and recognize: Houndog; Vlad; Mirko; Mt. Lady (out of her giant form); Midnight; Present Mic. With that many pros in his trap, you know this villain isn’t someone to fuck around with too lightly. You barely have time to process where this dude even came from when someone is landing in front of you and the other civilians, startling you when his boots hit the pavement. 

You know who it is even before you see his long, black hair and hear the excited screams of the crowd. He turns, giving you a view of him looking oh-so-yummy in his hero gear, goggles, and scarves as the afternoon sun turns his black strands of hair into spun gold. You can’t help it. You immediately begin to push through the crowd until you finally slip through, ignoring the officers that yell at you to stop. “Miss, you can’t go through there!” one of them yells, but you ignore them, too focused on getting the pro in front of you to pay attention to you. 

“Shouta!” you shout, cringing at the squelching sound of your wet sneakers in the street. It is completely flooded, ruining your shoes and sloshing against the hem of your skirt. Aizawa immediately turns around, his eyes widening behind his goggles at the sight of you.

“Y/N?” he asks, baffled. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You winch slightly at the harshness of his tone, but you won’t let it slow you down. You probably would’ve reacted the same way. “I was out for lunch and saw all these people running,” you reply before nodding at the whirlpool and the man at the heart of it. “What is he?” you breathlessly ask, still taken aback by how large and powerful the whirlpool is. 

Aizawa glares at the villain. “Says his name is Aqua Master or something like that. He’s been wreaking havoc with his water quirk all afternoon now. So far, he has over eight officers and several of our pros in there.” He pauses to take off his goggles and pinch his sinuses, his eyebrows creased. The stress of the situation is written all across his handsome face. And with no other pros here yet, he’s the only one here to stop this Aqua Master bitch. 

“Let me help,” you interject. He stares at you like you just told him you’re pregnant with his baby. “You just told me you’re losing people and I’m sure it’ll take a while before you get backup. I can help the civilians evacuate or–“ 

“Absolutely not,” he firmly replies, his expression a hard glare that makes you flush. “This is way too dangerous for you and you don’t have enough training.” You go to argue against this, but you’re interrupted by the sudden water-formed hand that juts out of the whirlpool and scoops up a nearby truck to toss at an oncoming cop car miles down the street. The cop car immediately swerves out of the way only to crash into a street pole and totally ruin the front of it. Aizawa raises his eyebrows at you as if to say, ‘see what I mean?’ 

But you’re not backing down. You don’t care how dangerous this mission is. Toyoma’s mission was dangerous too and you ended up saving Aizawa’s life. ”You let me come with you to get Toyoma,” you sharply argue.

Aizawa rolls his eyes at your attempt at arguing with him. “Yeah, and you almost ended up off a damn building splattered on the pavement.” Your ears droop in hurt at his jab. Though he is right, he doesn’t even know the kind of trauma you faced from that. The nightmares you still have dangling off of that building and the nothingness in Toyota’s eyes.

He must see that he went too far because his expression softens. He sighs, running a tired hand over his face. “Listen,” he says, his voice hushed, “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He steps away from you and puts his goggles back on, preparing for action. “Just stay in your line, alright? I’ve got this.” 

As he wraps his scarves around a nearby traffic light, he is nearly taken out by a blur of red that zooms between you and him. “Jesus, Hawks, watch it!” he angrily shouts, gripping his scarves. You look up, finding Hawks perched on the same traffic light Aizawa has his scarves wrapped around. He raises his goggles over his unruly, blonde hair, his red wings looking fluffy and soft to the touch. “Sorry, Eraser!” he huffs, looking irritated by the villain and his BS. “I’m dodging this shit as best as I can, but this bitch won’t quit throwing these cars at me!” 

The hairs on your body suddenly rise at the sense of something coming. Your eyes flit to the whirlpool where you find a giant, watery hand reaching for Aizawa. “Eraser, watch out!” you yell, but your voice is carried away by the sound of police sirens and rushing water. Hawks manages to escape by flapping away, but Aizawa isn’t as lucky. You have no choice but to watch as Aizawa’s scarves are yanked off of the traffic light by the hand and he is pulled into the rough currents of the whirlpool. 

“Oh, shit!” Hawks gasps, staring in awe as his coworker is pulled into the whirlpool just like that. “I’ve gotcha, Eraser!” Just try and hold your breath!” He flaps away into the blue sky above, flying above the whirlpool’s opening. There is no way he could get in there without getting stuck too, you realize. The cops won’t be able to get to the villain either without shooting someone. It’s way too risky to fire a bullet into that whirlpool. 

This fight needs someone else…something else. Something tinier. And you know just the thing that can work.

Without another thought, you push your way through the crowd again and you’re spit back out into the clean, cut grass of the city square’s park. It isn’t that far from the villain, but enough to hide away from him and his quirk behind the bushes and trees situated here. You look up and find Hawks perched in a tree, squatting on the thickest branch there. He stares at the villain in determination, obviously trying to come up with a plan until the other pros get here. 

You decide to help him out. Hoisting your foot up on the tree trunk, you grasp the lowest branch and pull yourself up until you have enough leverage to hoist yourself up on the branch. You do the same to the others above you until you are finally on a branch at the same level as Hawks, kneeling behind him. “Hawks!” you hiss, startling him so much that his wings ruffle. He turns around, squinting confusedly at you. “Who the hell are you?” he questions. 

You begin to introduce yourself, but you’re cut off by the sudden heat that nearly singes your eyelashes off coming from behind you. You turn, finding yourself facing the Endeavor, decked out in his hero gear and sporting his aflame moon boots. Your stomach flips in panic at the sight of him. He truly is an intimidating person. “Endeavor!” Hawks shouts as if he’s seeing an old friend. "You showed up! Is anybody else showin’ up soon? Please tell me Gang Orca is comin’.” 

Endeavor ignores him, his green eyes cutting across to you. “Who the hell is this?” he grumbles, scowling at you. You swallow hard, almost afraid to speak, but you won’t let this man catch you slipping. He’s just a human. A person.

“Night Claw,” you reply, giving him a friendly smile despite his hardened stare. “Listen, I don’t mean to interrupt your fight, but you’re never gonna get to that guy if it’s just the two of you. He’s too powerful and he already has one too many pros held up in his trap.” 

Endeavor’s stare only gets more intimidating. “So what do you suggest we do?” he cooly asks. “All of sudden, you’re gonna tell us how to do our job?” 

“Hold up, Enji,” Hawks says, Endeavor’s jaw setting at the mention of his birth name. “Let’s hear her out.” 

You raise your chin and square your shoulders, refusing to be spoken to by the pro. “To jog your memory, I’m the same vigilante who stopped that bank robbery and did your fuckin’ job before any of you could get there. I had them all tied up and ready to be arrested except for one.” Endeavor’s eyes widen an inch at the harshness of your tone––and the balls you’ve got to talk to him in such a way. Hawks snaps his fingers in recognition. “Yeah, now I remember you!” he happily chirps. “That was you? Damn, girl, you must got some serious skills.” 

“Yes, and I know how to use them on this one.” You nod at the whirlpool that has seemed to have gotten bigger. It’s now towering over the tree you’re perched in. “If we can get close enough, we’d need something sharp to destroy that whirlpool, and I’ve got just the thing.” You flash your claws at them, earning a chuckle from the winged hero. “Hawks, I’ll need you to fly me up over the whirlpool so I can jump inside. Endeavor, you’d distract him with your quirk. Maybe turn the water up too hot for him so he doesn’t notice me.” 

Your plan dawns across Hawks’ face. “Ohhh, I see. It could work and at this point, we’re out of options since some of our best are MIA.” He turns to the Endeavor, stroking the stubble on his chin. “What do ya think, Endeavor?” 

Endeavor’s forest-green eyes continue to stare you down, making you increasingly uncomfortable. “You’re a vigilante?” he acerbically asks you. Though your stomach flips in panic at being found out, you nod. “So you’re saying you’re not a trained, professional pro hero? You don’t have a license?”

Again, you nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “I have every right to turn you in to the police,” Endeavor growls, his eyes hot with disgust. “And if you continue to stand in the way of my job, I will. Stay in your lane, little girl.” With those words hanging in the air, he floats off toward the whirlpool, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. 

Hawks sighs heavily, looking at you apologetically. “Sorry about him. He’s a hothead, as I’m sure you’ve got already.” But you’re not upset by Endeavor’s words. If anything, they only make you want to snag this villain even more. “I don’t give a fuck about what he says or if I’m arrested,” you determinedly growl as you begin to climb down the tree. “I’m helping my friends whether with help or not.” 

Hawks watches you go, his expression unreadable. “You’re friends with Eraserhead?” he curiously asks. You nod, grunting as you lower yourself down each tree branch. “And Midnight and Present Mic. We work together at UA.” Hawks quirks an eyebrow at this newfound information. “You a teacher?” 

“Counselor,” you correct him before getting back on the subject. “Those three are very special to me and I didn’t fully appreciate how much they had my back until now. I’ve been terrible to all of them, so now I have to make up for my stupid decisions.” When you’re finally at the last branch, you let your legs dangle for a moment before jumping down, hitting a squat once on the grass. 

When you look up, you squeak in surprise at Hawks now towering over you instead of sitting in the tree. He reaches a gloved hand down for yours, his golden eyes friendly. “Then I’ll help you out,” he says with a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “That’s the best declaration of friendship if I’ve ever heard one before.” Your heart leaps for joy, relieved that you have help. With a grateful smile, you take Hawks’ hand and allow him to help you rise to your feet. 

After a moment of getting situated and Hawks advising you to “take a breath ‘cause it’s a bumpy ride”, you find yourself flying in the air with Hawks’ arms securely wrapped around your midsection as he zooms towards the whirlpool. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest and your eyes water as the wind hits them, causing you to blink rapidly.

The crowd of people you once stood in looks like ants now. The cop cars, trees, and buildings surrounding the area appear to be no more than miniature toys with how high up you are. But no matter how afraid you are, you don't dare move or change your mind. Not when your friends need you. 

“Higher, Hawks!” you shout among the wind in your ears. “I need to be directly above it! Damn, can’t your wings go any faster?” Hawks grunts above you, his wings straining against your body weight. “I’mma try but shit, you ain’t exactly light as feather, furry.” 

You don’t need to hear anything else. With one slow inhale, you shift into your feline form in Hawks’ arms. When he realizes that he is now holding a tiny, black cat instead of a whole person, he loses his shit. “Holy shit!” he laughs. “Talk about a quirk!” Now having an easier time flying, he flaps his wings up to the very top of the whirlpool until he is hovering above it. Down below is the hole traveling down into the depths of Aqua Master’s creation, along with your friends and the other innocents trapped in the watery grave. 

“I’m as high as I can go,” Hawks grunts above you. “It’s all on you now, furry.” Without a warning, he releases you and drops you down into the whirlpool, but you’re ready. Inhaling deeply, you shift back into your human soon as you sink into the water. It is not dark as you envisioned, but clear enough that you can see the dozens of bodies the villain collected––including Aizawa. He is farther at the bottom, his scarves and hair floating around him like seaweed. 

Anger floods within you as you swim towards Aqua Master who is still front and center in his whirlpool. When he senses you, he turns towards you, his locs floating around his head in streams of water. He scowls at you, probably wondering how you got in here. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks, his voice rough and clear as day. You don’t give him a proper introduction. Instead, you charge at him and wrap your limbs around him, pushing him against the wall of the whirlpool. 

With one hand outstretched, you extract your claws and slash at the whirlpool’s wall. The little tears are enough to send the entire whirlpool to hell. Water begins to pool out of the tears until the liquid monstrosity is no more. Instead, it begins to pool into the streets, flooding them even more. The crowd below you moves back as bodies, including yourself and the villain, tumble down out of the whirlpool.

You feel like a fish out of water as you tumble onto the street with Aqua Master below you, your limbs still wrapped around him. You gulp down air and cough violently at the water in your lungs, soaked to the bone. Now you hate water even more now. You doubt you’ll be able to properly shower after this without having this come back to you. You’re so involved with trying to breathe normally that you barely see Aqua Master’s next attack until he’s throwing you off of him. With a grunt, you hit the ground on your back, but you don’t have enough time to react. 

The villain is now standing above you, his limbs and hair now in physical form. He presses his foot into your chest, causing your windpipe to close up and your body to fight to breathe. You gasp and choke around his foot which continues to push into your chest, making it much harder to breathe. “Now you’ve gone and done it, bitch,” he snarls. "You really thought you was doin’ somethin’ tryin’ to fight me. Now you’ll die just like the rest of these stupid ass people.” He then kneels above you, trapping you beneath his body, and loops his hands around your neck. 

“No!” you choke only to be silenced by a sudden wall of water encasing your head. You try to scream, but only air bubbles escape your mouth. “Have fun swimmin’ with the fishes, bitch,” the villain growls, his stare cold and deadly. 

This is the second time you’ve faced death by a villain, you realize. You can’t help but wonder how is it for actual pros to face something like this? To constantly be on the brink of death and not wondering if there’s an alternative career path they could take? Your head suddenly becomes light and your eyes flutter, all thoughts and questions jumbled. Your lungs begin to burn and you know that it is only a matter of time until death takes you… 

Only it never does. The water surrounding your head disperses and you gasp in air, desperate for it. Aqua Master is now lying on his side, completely knocked out with Nemuri standing over him. She, too, is soaking wet, her mascara running and curls ruined, but she is still a knockout. You breathe a sigh of relief, mostly at her being okay than being saved by her quirk. “Y/N!” she gasps, stepping over the villain’s body to kneel before you. “What are you doing here? Are you hurt? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” 

Mic also comes to your aid, his sunglasses off and looking like a wet cat. He offers his hands for both you and Nemuri, pulling you to your feet. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he says in a stern tone that you’ve never heard from him before. “Y/N, that was very dangerous what you just did.” Nemuri nods, glaring daggers at your stupid decision. 

But you just can't feel embarrassed. Seeing them standing there, still caring for you despite your bullshit, is all the confirmation you need to know that you did the right thing. You throw yourself at them and wrap your arms tight around them, squeezing their bodies to yours. “I’m sorry,” you softly say, on the brink of tears. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m just so happy you’re safe.” After a moment of silence, the two hug you back and Mic comfortingly strokes your hair. “Thanks to you and your crazy self,” Nemuri sighs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

As laugh and pull away, giddy with joy and the feeling of accomplishing something impossible. But all of that giddiness fades when you see Aizawa lying face up yards away from you, his eyes closed and chest not moving. “Shouta!” you shout, immediately racing for him. Fear floods inside of you. ‘No…please, no. Don’t take him from Eri.’ 

You kneel beside Aizawa, scooping the back of his head into your hand. “Shouta, can you hear me?” you softly ask, your eyes flicking wildly across his face for any kind of sign of life. As if God hears you, Aizawa’s eyelids twitch once and a tiny groan leaves his lips. “Oh, thank God,” you sob, your thumb stroking his wet cheek. 

His eyes then slowly open, revealing two charcoal irises that stare in a daze into yours. “Y-Y/N?” he croaks out. “Why did you…did you…” He searches your face for an answer, even being soaking wet and nearly facing death. You shake your head, still gently stroking his cheek. “I know you told me to leave, but I couldn’t,” you sob. "I’m sorry I’m so stubborn. I just couldn't face the thought of you being in danger.” 

Slowly, Aizawa sits up, grunting as he does. You move away from him to allow him space to breathe and move, but all he does is stare at you in awe, his plump lips parted. “Y/N, I–“ 

“Get your hands off of him!” The roar of Endeavor’s voice causes you to scramble away from Aizawa, your ears back and tail poofy with fear. You turn, finding Endeavor standing there with several police officers, a glare on his face.

“I specifically told you to stay out of the way and you didn’t listen to me,” he chastises you as if you’re his daughter. “Chief, that’s her. That Night Claw girl who has been prancing around without a license or a degree as a pro for months now!” 

The middle-aged, bald man standing beside him in a police chief uniform looks from the pro to you, his expression unreadable but still scaring the absolute shit out of you. This is it––you’re going to get arrested. You’re going to lose your job. No one can help you now; not Aizawa, Nezu, or Mic and Nemuri who come to your aid. Not even Hawks who swoops down to land between you and Endeavor. “Enji, what are you doing?” he demands. “This girl just saved half of your coworkers’ lives!” 

“And yet she doesn’t have a license to practice saving lives, does she?” Endeavor snaps. Aizawa suddenly steps in front of you, blocking you from Endeavor’s angry eyes glaring into your soul. “She works at UA, Enji,” he growls, his rage barely being contained. “She’s a counselor. The kids there have enough problems already that some of us professors can’t handle. She’s needed there, and I’m not gonna let you take that away from them or her.” 

Endeavor's eyes turn into sharp slits that target Aizawa, making your stomach flip in panic as if they’re about to fight. “And I’m not going to have anyone make a mockery out of being a pro hero,” he snarls. “People go through so much stress training and studying to get a license and degree to be a hero. People risk their lives every day to protect this damn city.” 

“And so did she!” Nemuri argues, her face red with rage. “If you got your head out of your ass, you would’ve seen what we did for all of us!” Endeavor opens his mouth to rage on, but a sharp whistle sound cuts through the air, silencing all of you. The police chief drops a whistle from his mouth and stares you down, intimidating but not as fearful as Endeavor’s stare is. He eyes you up and down, sizing you up. 

“So it’s you?” he asks, not at all sounding angry. “You’re the reason street crime has been going down?” 

All eyes flick to yours, waiting to see if you’ll deny it or stand in your truth. Because you don’t want to lie anymore, because you want to be the best person you can be, you step from behind Aizawa’s big, tall body, presenting yourself to the chief. “I’d like to hope so, sir,” you softly reply. 

The chief suddenly looks apologetic and you know what’s coming next. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “You have my full respect for your work and what you’ve done today, but…” He digs into his pocket, revealing a ring of silver cuffs that have your gut twisting with fear. “Under the law, I can’t–“ 

He is interrupted by a sudden flash of a camera. Dozens of news cameras and microphones begin to surround you, pushing through to get to the pros. A newswoman dressed in her finest dress waves from behind two police officers, a microphone in her hand. “Endeavor!” she shouts. “Eraserhead! Over here!” She shoves through the cops along with her own cameraman. Your heart leaps at the idea of being on TV, your face on every screen across Japan and possibly even further than that. 

Once the woman is through, she practically shoves the microphone into Aizawa’s face while the camera on the cameraman’s shoulder targets him with the aftermath of Aqua Master’s attack in the background. “Can you tell us anything about the villain you stopped today?” the newswoman asks feverishly. "Who was he? How did you stop him?” 

Despite his soaked and tired state, Aizawa doesn’t refuse to answer––or to give you your props. “It wasn’t either of us,” he replies. “While we put in work, it was really her.” He nods at you standing like a deer frozen in headlights beside him. Your eyes trail over the cameras suddenly in your face and all of the eyes of the crowd on you making you feel like a hot spotlight is on you. You don’t know what to do. Your mind is completely blank. 

“Hey, miss!” the newswoman says, her microphone now directed at you. “What is your name? Are you a new professional hero?”

You’re silent, your mouth dry and nervous sweat collecting under your pits. Your eyes shift to the chief, wondering if he’ll slap the cuffs on you if you say anything at all. But to your shock, the chief has slipped the cuffs back into his pocket. All he does is give you a nod. One nod that says everything to you. 

You smile, your body flooded with joy, relief, and pride. So you turn to the newswoman and the other microphones that have begun to sneak toward your face. You lean down, speaking into the one nearest to your mouth. “My name is Y/N L/N,” you proudly say. “I’m the vigilante known as Night Claw. Now I have to get back to work.” 

With a smile at the cameras and at a very angry Endeavor, you walk away from the news crews, cameras, police, and crowd of civilians that cheer you on as you strut past in your soaked sneakers. As you do, a Mercedes Benz stops beside you and out hops Gang Orca looking haggard in his tie and dress slacks. 

“Alright, I’m here,” he sighs. “I’m so sorry about my lateness. Traffic was horrible and…” He stops, his eyes trailing over the chaotic sight in front of him. “Uh…am I late?” he asks, looking hesitant to know the answer.

You put a hand on the whale’s back, patting it. “Nothing you need to worry about, Mr. Orca, sir,” you reply with a smile. He gapes at you before you walk past him, heading back toward UA. “Was that Y/N?” you hear Orca ask, baffled. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?” 

You don't turn around, not even to check on Aizawa. Your first job is done. Now you have another to take care of. 

*********** 

When you walk into Koa’s Purrr Palace that day, it is right after work ends and into the evening after you’ve run your errands. 

The little cat cafe is clean and tidy when you walk in, causing the bell overhead to jingle at your arrival. The floors are polished, the tables are cleaned, and the entire room smells like lavender which can only mean that closing time is soon. There is also the lingering scent of coffee and sugar in the air. 

An old woman–the same old woman who saved your life that fateful night–is just walking from behind the counter with a bottle of pine saw and a rag when she sees you. “Oh, good evening!” she brightly greets you, a smile on her face that creates crinkles by her eyes. You return the smile, standing awkwardly near the door. It’s so strange to be back here after so long. “Hi,” you timidly say. "I’m sorry it’s so late.” 

Koa, the old woman and the owner of this cute little establishment, waves a passive hand, scoffing. “Nonsense! It isn't too late to visit unless the closed sign goes up.” She puts the pine saw and rag down on a nearby table where a bouquet of cut yellow roses sits. “So how can I help you, dear?” she asks, her kindness making you feel like a little girl.

You clutch your purse in front of you. “I’d like to adopt a cat, please,” you reply. “Not for me, but for someone else as a gift. They love cats.” Your stomach flips for some reason as you say this, probably because you’re actually going through with this random ass idea that you came up with right as you arrived at UA. You don’t know if Aizawa will even want another pet after what you put him through, but you have to at least try. 

Koa puts a hand on her heart, practically swooning at your request. “Well, how sweet of you!” she coos. “Any particular breed they like?” She begins to walk you over to the front counter where a few cages of kittens and cats sit, most of them asleep. 

“No, they’re pretty open to whatever,” you answer, knowing damn well you’re just spitting BS because you have no idea what kind of cat breed Aizawa likes. “Just a cat that is very friendly, affectionate, and isn’t too keen on the outside.” 

“Well, I’m sure we can find you the perfect one that checks all of those boxes.” Koa motions to the cages presented in the front for the picking. “Let me just check the back to see if we have any cats left. We’ve had so many adoptions ever since Eraserhead visited here. Such a doll, he is, but quite stoic.”

Your heart leaps and your cheeks flush at the mention of Aizawa, especially the way Koa describes him. ‘He is definitely a doll,’ you think, smiling to yourself. 

Koa leaves you to your own devices as she goes into the back, humming as she does. Your eyes begin to roam over the many felines in their cage condos, most of them asleep. You feel an overload of cuteness from the different cat breeds you see snuggled up in their cat beds or with each other: tabbies; Persians; ragdolls; calicos… Your eyes stop when you land on one calico in particular.

They are small, still a kitten, and the only one not asleep. Instead, they are playing with a little ball that hangs from a string in their cage, its tiny paws flashing with claws that they know how to use. You are not just enchanted by its cuteness but its pattern. It is an unusual but beautiful swirl of browns, whites, and tans that almost appears a shade of pink. Its nose is tiny and pink, its eyes two big jades that seem so full of innocence.

What stands out to you about this kitten, other than its pattern and cuteness, is the tiny scar that lies under its left eye. It is small and white as if something knicked its fur at some point. Reminds you of someone you know well. You move closer to the cage, careful not to startle the tiny thing. “Sps-sps,” you whisper. The kitten’s head whips towards you, its ears perked up.

“Hello,” you coo. “What’s your name?” The kitten softly mews at you, answering you back. You push your finger through one of the cage holes, allowing the kitten to sniff you. Deciding it likes you, it presses its head against your finger and begins to purr. 

“Oh, so you met our new addition!” Koa smiles at you, returning to her post. “We brought her in about a week ago. She’s still a kitten, but was probably the runt of her siblings due to her small size and pattern so her mother possibly abandoned her. When one of my employees found her, she was lying under some bushes near her apartment complex, eating some food someone left her.” 

Your heart breaks at the poor little kitten's story as she continues to run her nose against your finger. “She’s extremely friendly and playful,” Koa giggles. “She's awfully tiny though. I was afraid to pick her up when I first saw her. It’s clear she’s been through some rough patches however long she was alone, but she’s still so kind. Such a sweetheart.” She presses her hand against the cage, earning the kitten’s affection and purrs. 

Your heart breaks even more for the poor animal. She’s so touch-starved and in need of love from a good owner. You’ve never been more certain that Aizawa and Eri would be great owners for her. “You said she could’ve possibly been abandoned for her pattern?” you ask Koa, earning a solemn nod. “How is that even possible? She looks like one of those Neapolitan ice cream swirls.” 

And then, like a lightbulb flickering on in your brain, a name comes to you: “Nea,” you coo. “Little Nea.” As if liking that choice, the kitten slowly blinks at you, a tiny mew leaving her mouth. You turn to Koa, already taking your credit card out of your purse. “I’ll take her.” 

That late night, after returning home with little Nea and leaving her to lay in your bed, you enter your clean, neat bedroom and bend down to look under your bed. There, a chest sits, untouched for weeks now. You pull it out and open it, revealing your Night Claw outfit, still sleek and clean. You’re so glad you decided to place it in the chest instead of keeping it in the duffle bag you’ve often stored it in. Thank God you’re thinking differently now. 

You pull your mask out of the chest, smiling fondly at it. “Hi again, baby,” you whisper. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Let’s make up right here, right now.” 

Without another word, you place your mask on your face and suit up. Your suit, still fierce and sexy, still fits like a glove no matter how much time has gone by.

And as you stand in the mirror with the window wide open for your exit, feeling like a brand new woman, you know that you’ve been forgiven. 

#shouta aizawa #shoutaaa #smutty smut #my fic shit #my works #here kitty kitty #bnha smut #shouta aizawa x black!reader #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #black writers #aizawa x black!reader