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fairyfuyu · 3 years ago

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that night | baji keisuke

summary: aged up characters +20, enemies to lovers w/ baji, reader is siblings w/ chifuyu, some shit isn’t canon but some is and i am too lazy to state what is/isn’t. bite me. baji and reader have really hot sex

wc: 8.9k (i am yelling)

*taps mic* jess this one's for you @zeeroweenies

content: NSFW 18+, fem!reader, unbearable teasing and tension, we have a lil girlboss moment ngl, gang discourse but what else is new (also involving us but we’re ok i promise), mentions of blood from wounds, baji being protective, use of pet name ‘angel,’ degradation if you squint, oral (m&f receiving, baji also licks our taint), face fucking, spit as lube, unprotected sex, tummy bulge, choking, hair pulling, impact play (spanking), overstim (?), squirting, baji fucks us dumb, backshots, shitty aftercare (but aftercare nontheless) i mean its baji cmon what do you really expect stop lying to yourself

a/n: lol remember when i said writing smut isnt my thing? changed my mind this is now an art/smut account sorry about it. this is the result of having baji brainrot for 3 days straight. i barely slept. was h word for 72 consistent hours. i have no regrets. this is purely self indulgent aka i wanna be in a gang and carry a diamond encrusted knife on me at all times

mdni !!!!! or else im taking ur ipad away from u

please have your fucking age in your bio im begging you

“Chifuyu! Where the fuck is your peyoung yakisoba?!”

His voice was so indistinguishable as it rang throughout the small space of the apartment. Deep. Commandeering. Even with your headphones on as you intently focused on your homework, it demanded the attention it never failed to acquire. You internally groaned at the very first syllable you heard.

He let himself in again, that dumbass.

You rolled your eyes, hating yourself for even thinking about responding back in place of your brother’s absence. As much as you dreaded the thought of engaging the ravenette, you knew the sooner he got the information he was searching for, the sooner he would shut up.

“He’s not home!” You shouted back, not waiting for an answer before you situated your headphones back to their original position.

Turning back to your laptop, you wished you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps approaching your closed door. It didn’t take long before he reached for the handle, finding his attempt at barging in futile. “___? Why’s the door locked - you naked or something?”

You scoffed, fully taking your headphones off and resting them around your neck. “You’re a pervert.” Accepting your defeat at evading any conversation with him, you pushed yourself out of your chair and strode to your door, unlocking it and cracking it open slightly. You looked up at his dark eyes staring back down at you, leaning all of his weight on his arm against the doorframe.

“I’m in university, remember? I gave up playing gangster when I was in high school.” You shot up at him, an unbothered expression resting on your face.

It was true, you briefly scuttled around with your brother and his little gang in high school. It wasn’t anything too serious on your part, mostly because Chifuyu would kill you if you let yourself get wrapped up with a few particular enemies of his. You two were incredibly close, but what siblings wouldn’t be after their single mom ran out on them by the time you turned 15? Chifuyu would do anything to protect you, but he knew that he alone wasn’t enough; you ultimately had to learn to protect yourself, which is why you even got involved with his friends in the first place. You learned anything you needed to protect yourself, and being related to someone so deeply tied to Toman, that reputation alone kept you safe. Though you were pretty skilled in fighting, your involvement trailed off once you decided to focus more on your education and getting into university. After all, being in a gang was not a safe or secure way to make a living. But that didn’t mean you stopped keeping your jewel-encrusted knife on you at all times that Chifuyu gifted you when you turned 17.

Baji rolled his eyes at you. “Don’t try and act like you’re above that shit. You’re just as bad as your brother. Now, where is that fucker?”

“I told you, he’s out. And stop letting yourself in, it’s creepy.” You replied back, maintaining your deadpan tone.

He let out an unamused chuckle. “You know I’m not gonna stop. Besides, I was hungry and I know you guys always stay stocked up - at least, I thought you did.”

You decided to mess with him some. “Aw, you didn’t come to see me?”

“Of course not, idiot.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. Do you think I don’t catch you staring all the time?” You teased him, revelling in the reaction you pulled from him; he didn’t actually stare, you just knew he hated anytime you teased him like this. Although this time, you could practically hear his heart stop in his chest, just inches away from yours.

He narrowed his eyes down at you. “You’re ridiculous. I’m staying here till Fuyu gets back.”

“Like I care. Just don’t bother me anymore.” You moved to put your headphones back over your ears, just wanting the conversation to be over.

“Pretty sure I annoy you just by being here.”

“You’re absolutely right.” You said with a smile, before shutting the door in his face.

Thankfully, you were able to get through all the homework you hoped to complete that evening without any interruptions from Baji or Chifuyu once he returned. He knew how important your studies were to you, and he wanted nothing but success for you, making sure to never break your focus unless something urgent happened.

It wasn’t until you forced yourself to look up from your laptop did you realize what time it was; the dark sky peeking through your window told you it was much later than you had thought, and a glance at your phone confirmed it. 9:13 PM.

You decided that eating dinner would definitely be the smartest decision; your aching stomach would surely appreciate some type of food. Peeling yourself out of your chair for the first time since Baji rudely interrupted, you slid into your slippers beside you and made your way out to the kitchen.

Chifuyu stood at the sink, a dish in one hand and a rag in the other. He heard the quiet pitter-patter of your footsteps and looked up, a soft smile crossing his face. “Hey ___, finished with your work?”

You nodded, silently sighing in annoyance to see Baji still under your roof. “Yeah, finally. ‘M starving, though.” Before you could even make your way to the fridge to throw a makeshift meal together, Chifuyu opened the oven and grabbed a dish covered in tin foil.

“Here, I kept it warm for you.” He spoke tenderly, placing the dish on the countertop for you.

Chifuyu always made sure you ate something before you fell asleep, knowing how often you neglect your self care when it comes to late nights of studying. The gesture reminded you just how much he cared about you. You offered a smile in return. “Thanks, Fuyu.”

Sitting down opposite Baji at the kitchen table - who presumably was satisfied after his friend made him dinner considering his much more mellow nature than earlier - you placed the plate of noodles in front of you and didn’t hesitate to dig in. If Chifuyu did one thing right, it surprisingly was his ability to make a good meal.

“So, how was Mikey?” You asked Chifuyu nonchalantly, not even acknowledging Baji’s presence.

He placed the dish he had cleaned on the drying rack. “You know you don’t have to pretend to be interested in Toman anymore, ___.”

“But what if I am interested?” You countered. “Those guys were my friends for so long - and I mean, you’re practically an exec at this point, my best friend is dating Takemichi...how can I not be somewhat involved still?”

“I thought you were above playing gangster.” Baji chimed in, not breaking eye contact with the phone in his hands.

You shot him a glare for alluding to your conversation earlier. “I’m just saying, is it so wrong for me to ask how everyone is sometimes? Even if it has been months since I’ve seen Mikey or Draken.”

“He asked about you, actually.” Chifuyu stated simply.

“Who, Mikey?” You asked absentmindedly, taking another bite.

He nodded. “Said he missed having you around.”

Thank god you swallowed before hearing Chifuyu’s response, otherwise you’d have choked. It hung in the air for a moment, the silence that followed so deafening. You almost thought you caught a glimpse of Baji’s grip tightening on his phone, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Chifuyu across the room. He acted as though he didn’t even say anything, continuing his task of cleaning yet another dish. You noted the suds on his bruised knuckles, moving back and forth as he scrubbed. Cleaning the front, then the back, then rinsing it off. The steady stream of the faucet shut off, but the lingering drops continued for a second, drip, drip, drip…

“___?”

You snapped out of your trance held on the water droplets, finding your brother’s green eyes locked on you. “What’d you tell him?” You took another bite.

“That you were at university now, being a serious adult, doing serious, adult things.” He tossed the towel to the side, apparently done with the chore.

Baji took a sip of his drink. “Is the serious adult still too cool to hang out with the wannabe gangsters?” He continued averting his gaze from you.

“You’re not in this conversation, dumbass.” You retorted, eyes flickering to him for a split second before returning your attention to your brother. You saw him stick his tongue out at you like a damn child out of the corner of your eye, and the tiniest part of you wanted to smile. But, you didn’t. “Why’d he bring me up all of a sudden?”

The blonde just shrugged. “Guess he just misses you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek in slight concentration...or maybe it was contemplation. Your mind wandered back to the last brawl you ever found yourself in the middle of, just before you graduated high school. It was like every other time - Toman got wrapped up in their agenda of having each other's back, finding themselves up against a pretty tough rival gang. You weren’t excused from the brutality that time by any means; the shitheads always liked to try and take out the rival girls, and you never understood why...if they really think girls are weaker, then would it really prove their strength to beat the shit out of one? You were incredibly skilled, though, and most of the time you could stand your ground. But that time, you hesitated a second too long, and before you knew it you were flat on the ground, Chifuyu kneeling over you and cradling your head.

You were okay, but a trip to the ER later revealed a broken jaw and an injured self-esteem. You cursed yourself for letting that lanky asshole knock you out, but your time in the hospital allowed you to reflect some on where to go from there; Chifuyu’s guilt for ever allowing you to join in on fights definitely had a lot of weight on your final decision to step away from the group of boys who occupied most of your time. It forced you to face reality and take some responsibility for your life and where you ended up. Despite those boys practically being family, you needed to step away from that part of your life. So, you turned towards getting a degree and never looked back.

That was over a year ago.

“Is he expecting me to come back or something?” You finally said after your brief self-examination, staring back down at your dinner in front of you. Chifuyu had made his way to join you and Baji at the table.

Shrugging again, he leaned forward on his elbows atop the table’s surface. “Don’t dwell on it, I just thought I’d let you know he hasn’t totally forgotten about you.”

His statement made you smile a little. “Well, who could forget about me?” You joked, causing him to mirror your smile.

“Would you ever come back?” Baji intervened.

“No.” Chifuyu answered for you before you could even think about what you’d respond with. His voice was so firm, so sure.

You raised an eyebrow at your brother. “No?”

“Yeah.” He said, as serious as ever.

Baji shook his head in confusion. “I just heard ‘no’ and ‘yeah,’ which one is it?”

Scoffing at the raven-haired boy, you rolled your eyes. “Dumbass. Since when do you make decisions for me, Chifuyu?”

The blonde sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you forget what happened last year? Or did Hanma kick that pretty little head of yours too hard, ___?”

“Fuck you.” You bit back at his remark. “I can take care of myself, just cause you’re a year older than me doesn’t mean I’m some baby.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt again,” Chifuyu said, “that’s all.”

You pushed yourself out of your seat, deciding that you were thirsty. “Well, I still have that knife you gave me, ready to use whenever.”

Two steps later and Chifuyu was out of his seat, grabbing you and whipping you around to try and catch you off guard, but you moved quicker than him. In an instant, you wielded your knife tucked in your waistline, holding the blade inches away from his face. A proud smile on your face as you locked him in position, you chuckled. “Checking to see if I still remember a thing or two?”

“Always.” He replied, impressed at his little sister.

“Wow, kitty likes to scratch, huh?” Baji laughed, unable to tear his eyes off of the two dangerous siblings.

You let go of the hold you had on Chifuyu, returning the knife back to the holster you keep hidden. It was no exaggeration that you kept it on you at all times. “Suck my dick, Keisuke.” You snapped, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

Reaching up to grab a glass out of your cupboard, you heard the two boys stirring behind you. You turned your head to see Chifuyu sling the familiar black jacket over his shoulders, Baji’s own tucked under his arm. Without them saying anything, you connected the dots. “Oh...that’s why Mikey needed to talk to you today, huh?”

He nodded sheepishly, not looking your way as he headed towards the door. “Something like that, yeah.”

You couldn’t help your heart rate spike a little, the anxiety setting in that always managed to take over whenever you watched Chifuyu leave for the night. Obviously, the shit he was getting into was dangerous, and you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to the worst case scenario while he was gone. The longer he stayed out, the more worried you grew. You knew your brother was strong, and he absolutely had no problem when it came to protecting himself and his friends. Part of you was just scared that you’d lose the last bit of family you had left.

Chifuyu’s ego was a fragile one too - though he’d never admit it, of course - but you knew he felt the need to prove his strength any chance he got. He never had a father, never had someone teach him how to go out into the world and face what came his way. He was forced to learn it from his delinquent friends; and of course he couldn’t help the cards he was dealt in life, but sometimes you wished things turned out different.

Most of the time, though, you were glad for exactly who Chifuyu was.

You trailed behind them like a lost puppy as they made their way to the exit of the apartment. “Fuyu,” You quietly called.

He hesitated in the open doorway; he knew exactly what you were feeling and this is precisely why he didn’t tell you about the meeting tonight. “I’ll be fine, I promise.” He assured you, pressing his lips into a forced smile.

Nodding to yourself, for a second you almost believed him. “Okay.”

And with that, the blonde and the brunette left into the night.

10:30 rolled around and you still hadn’t fallen asleep. You tossed and turned in your little bed, desperate to find a position comfortable enough to doze off in. Needless to say, your efforts were unsuccessful; any position was unbearable with your mind racing and your brother out in the city doing who knows what. It was always like this. You tried not to let Chifuyu’s undertakings evade your thoughts on a day to day basis, and for the most part, they didn’t. He felt that the less you knew, the better, and you agreed; but that didn’t stop you from speculating his whereabouts when he wouldn’t return home all day, even though he just said he’d be back in under an hour. And your speculations, more often than not, were correct. He’d waltz through that front door, trying his hardest to be as quiet as a mouse, but you were too clever; you’d catch him every time red handed - quite literally, as new battle scars always managed to find their way onto his skin.

Maybe it was your familial bias towards Chifuyu, but you repeatedly found some way to blame that dumbass that lived three floors above the two of you. If it wouldn’t have been for Chifuyu and Baji meeting in middle school, he never would’ve been introduced to Toman in the first place. And although you treated Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, and the rest of them like siblings, Baji never clicked with you somehow. Sure, you can tolerate him the bare minimum in order to appease your brother, but his gruff and churlish attitude towards you didn’t sit right. Ever since Chifuyu met him - and subsequently discovered he lived in the same building as you - they’ve been inseparable. Baji’s just always been there, though never for you.

Ignoring the tiny voice inside of your head that begged you not to, you found yourself on your feet in one swift motion, the cold evening air sending a sharp chill down your spine. Trading your sleep shorts for something a little more practical, your feet took you over to your closet where you rummaged through the back until your hands landed on what you were searching for. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you admired the embroidery Mitsuya carefully stitched into the fabric for you.

“As the honorary little sis of Toman, I had to specially make yours by hand.” You remembered him saying when he first handed it to you years ago, and you’d always treasure it - whether you were a part of Toman or not.

You threw the black jacket over your t-shirt, stepped into some shoes, and grabbed your keys to your motorcycle. Your plan, though barely a plan at all, was this: go to the spot Toman typically meets, see if the boys were there, and make sure your brother isn’t dead. If they weren’t there, you’d end your search. Simple. At the very least, a nice ride in the brisk night would surely help calm your nerves.

The autumnal air breezes past you as you ride down the barren sidestreets, navigating your way between the concrete buildings surrounding you. Your open jacket catches the wind, chilling you further and making you curse under your breath at your stupidity for only sporting a thin t-shirt tonight. You always loved riding your bike through the city, especially the spontaneous drives with Chifuyu and his friends, somehow going into the earliest hours of the morning. There were times you even stayed up until the sun rose (mostly due to Mikey’s pleading), and as much as you hate to admit it, those times you cherish the most.

Your little joyride was short lived sadly; before you knew it, you heard the familiar shouts from the gang growing louder and louder, indicating you had arrived at the correct spot. Shedding your helmet and buttoning your jacket halfheartedly, you carried yourself down to the opening that was home to the voices. And then, you saw them; Mikey, Draken, Baji, and Takemichi, all lined up behind Chifuyu as he stared up at Kisaki. Hanma was right by his side.

The quiet sounds of you approaching the group must’ve been much louder than you thought, because as soon as you came into view, Mikey called out to you.

“Oi, is that ___?” He asked; there was a hint of excitement in his voice.

You could feel your brother’s gaze burning into your skull the closer you drew near, furious that you even thought about coming out here. You knew he would be mad at you for this choice, but you still stand by your decision. He’s been there for you all these years, you felt you should do the same.

“Weren’t done playing gangster after all, huh?” Baji teased, flashing his little fangs at you with a toothy grin.

You approached the group, locking eyes with the brunette for a passing second. “Nice ponytail, dumbass.”

“Ew, don’t compliment me like that. They’re gonna think we’re friends.” He scoffed, switching his smirk out for a frown, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Go home, ___.” Chifuyu ordered, petulance laced through the simple phrase, pulling your attention over towards him, but only momentarily.

Hanma took a few steps towards you, eyes shooting daggers into yours as if he were warning you. A simper played on his lips. “Looks like you healed up real nice from last time I saw you. Maybe this time you won’t be so lucky.”

“Hanma…” Draken interjected, but you silenced him.

“No, I think I will be lucky this time actually.” You smirked up at him, implicitly begging him to make a move.

And he played right into it, that cocky son of a bitch. It all happened quickly, the way he swung at you, with such force and arrogance, like he was sure he would knock you out in one punch. But his pomposity proved faulty in this instance, for you dodged it with such finesse, sweeping his legs out from under him and pinning him down. Your blade was drawn, inches away from his face, your other hand securing his arm and digging your knee into his back. Giggling softly, you scowled down at him. “Seems I did get lucky this time around, huh?”

While your eyes were trained on him, you were completely unaware of what occurred behind you. Kisaki decided to dismiss whatever business he had with your brother, deeming the situation with Hanma far more important since you had a weapon too close for comfort. But before he could get close to you, the ravenette tackled him, slamming his head to the concrete and knocking his glasses off his smug face.

“You touch her, you die.” He spit, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. If not for that unmistakable voice that sounded in the quiet night, you wouldn’t have believed it was Baji. It caught you off guard, mostly because he always had a jovial tonality whenever he spoke. He wasn’t serious by nature, but he sure as shit was at this moment in time. You made sure to not lose focus on keeping Hanma down, but managed to steal a brief glance towards the scene unraveling.

Kisaki laughed beneath Baji’s weight. “Since when do you give a shit about little Matsuno?”

Instead of a proper response, Baji sent a clean, hard punch right to his face. “Talk about her again, I dare you.”

“Kei, you don’t need-” Chifuyu started to say, taking a step towards his friend, but the brunette completely ignored him, striking his enemy again. Blood trickled from his nose, eyes hazy as they peered skywards.

Hanma’s eyes focused over to the brawling men, snickering softly. “Your boyfriend seems to be doing a good job of protecting you.”

You rest the blade right under his jaw, not forcefully, but with enough contact to get the point across. “I don’t need anyone to protect me. I’m the one with the knife, remember?”

“____, do you really need to have a knife pulled on him?” Takemichi asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Mikey laughed at his question. “Let her be, she’s got it handled.”

Meanwhile, Baji kept his eyes trained on the body beneath him. “Now, tell me you’re gonna fuck off from messing with Matsuno or else I’m killing you right here and now.”

“No need to make such empty promises, Keisuke. I just wanted to make sure Chifuyu knew who he was dealing with, 's all.” Kisaki spoke smoothly, as if he didn’t just get his nose broken. “I think we’ve all had enough fun for tonight, yeah?”

Not satisfied with his answer, Baji gave him one last jab, putting him right to sleep. He got up from his position, walking over to you and resting a hand on your shoulder. “You can get up, ___. He won’t hurt you.”

Gritting your teeth behind your closed lips, you pulled the knife away from Hanma’s neck, barely nicking him in the process. Your eyes didn’t leave the tiny drop of blood that formed as you stood up and off of the arrogant man beneath you. Turning your back on him, you walked over to your brother.

Your eyes flickered up to Baji’s. “You didn’t need to do that for me.”

He rolled his eyes, walking further ahead of you as he inspected the fresh wounds on his knuckles. “Like I did that for you. I knew Fuyu would never shut up if you got hurt again.” He pulled the hair tie out of his hair, allowing his dark locks to cascade over his shoulders and bathe in the moonlight.

You fell back, joining Chifuyu who stood perfectly still, frozen and staring at the ground where you previously had control over Hanma. He controlled his breathing, balling his hands in fists beside himself. You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Ready to go home?”

I’ll save it for tomorrow, he thought to himself. He couldn’t bring himself to go off on you here, in front of everyone. Nodding, he sucked up his pride. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

You barely got any sleep that night, thanks to the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The second you got home, Chifuyu wordlessly entered his room, secluding himself for the rest of the night. Fleeing to your own, you settled under the covers, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but overthink every little thing that happened that night.

Specifically, Baji’s behavior.

Why would he say the things he said - ‘You touch her, you die’ ? Beating the shit out of Kisaki like...like he cared about you or something. But then he goes and acts like he doesn’t care about you.

Of course he doesn’t care about you, he never has, never will.

‘Like I’d do that for you’

The words replayed over and over in your head, an endless cycle of convincing yourself that he’s just lying and actually does care about you, but then overthinking your entire relationship with him and deciding that there’s no way he didn’t mean the things he said.

The reason for your racing heart and anxiety coursing through your whole body was not the fact that you successfully stopped Hanma from attacking you yet again, it was the fact that this person who never passed up on a chance to annoy the ever living shit out of you, potentially tried protecting you that night.

By the time the sun rose, you and Chifuyu were yelling at each other like real siblings do in the living room. You couldn’t have been more spot on with how you expected the argument to go; he, of course, scolded you for being so stupid, so careless, because “what if you weren’t able to take him down, what then?” And you shot back at him with “but I did take him down, I told you I can take care of myself!” Which cascaded the entire argument into one about how Chifuyu treats you like you’re five and doesn’t have any faith in you. His reasoning for that was he just cares about you too much, you’re family, you’re all he has left...of course he’s going to worry.

When you heard this, the only response you found fitting was something along the lines of “You’re wrong, you have Toman! You have a hundred guys ready to back you up - ready to treat you like family. I don’t have that anymore - you’re my only family and you know it”

Were you proud of that response? You weren’t entirely sure. It sounded right in the heat of the moment, but the way his face dropped and he instantly got quiet, you felt a slight twinge of regret for your choice in words. As he grabbed his keys from the counter, he muttered a quiet “I’ll see you later” before he shut the front door behind him.

And so, here you were, twelve minutes later, curled up in your bed trying to at least take a brief nap since you didn’t sleep at all. The closest you got to a nap was keeping your eyes shut for a solid minute before you heard the front door open and close in haste.

That was quick, you thought to yourself, forcing yourself to sit upright in your bed as you locked your eyes on your open doorway, expecting to see your brother.

What you didn’t expect was to see Baji standing there instead, breathing heavily, and a small smirk on his face. “Hey, ___.”

You pushed yourself out of bed awkwardly, a little confused that he of all people was there. “Chifuyu isn't home...I actually thought he was with you-”

“I didn’t come to see Chifuyu.” He stated.

A deafening hush fell over the two of you. He looked like hell - probably just as bad as you looked, to be honest. Dark bags rest beneath his moody eyes and his hair hung impossibly messy beside his face. His breathing began to still as more seconds passed.

His eyes searched yours for any sort of answer. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” It was as much of a response as you could muster; your thoughts were all over the place.

He rocked onto his toes nervously. “You don’t wanna know what I want you to say.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, beginning to fiddle with your fingers - a bad habit you nurse when you find yourself in uneasy situations. You were mute again, unknowing how to even begin to navigate this conversation.

“Don’t pick at your fingers like that, it's bad for you.”

You let out an incredulous exhale. “I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about proper hand-care.” You teased lightheartedly, glancing down to his own torn knuckles from last night’s fight. “Let me get you some bandages.” You said, composing yourself some and brushing past the tall boy hurriedly. He never stopped you.

You wandered down the hallway into yours and Chifuyu’s shared bathroom, scouring the medicine cabinet for the proper first aid. As you pulled out the products, Baji settled himself on top of the toilet seat, looking around absentmindedly.

Grabbing disinfectant, you took his right hand in yours. Part of you was a little nervous to hold his hand, but you brushed it off. “This might sting a little.” You warned, before applying the compound to his small cuts.

His hand twitched in yours. “I’m not a pussy, that was just a reflex.”

“Sure,” You taunted, taking the bandage and rolling his knuckles up in them, securing it so it wouldn’t unravel. “Other hand.”

Reciprocating your actions, you could feel Baji’s smile without even seeing it. When you were finished, you shoved the unused bandages to the side. “All done.”

“So are you even gonna ask why I’m here?”

You leaned against the counter, thinking about exactly what you wanted to say. “I have a couple thoughts of my own on why you’re here.”

“I’m all ears.”

Scrunching your nose in mock annoyance, you huffed. “I think you were lying last night when you said you didn’t beat up Kisaki for me.”

Baji nodded his head, running a hand through his hair. “Would it be so bad if I told you you were right?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I thought you hated me.” He exclaimed. “You’re not exactly subtle about how annoyed you are with me so much as being near you.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed in disbelief. “Please, you make it your life mission to bother the absolute hell out of me. Anytime I’m with you and Chifuyu, you practically beg me to leave you guys alone.”

“Maybe I’m just bad at making friends, okay! You know I’m not that smart, how on earth am I supposed to act around someone like you?!” His words became progressively more passionate, more urgent - it was undeniable that he was starting to ramble, letting any and every thought he had just fall past his lips in an effortless revelation. He was on his feet now, and suddenly the small bathroom became a confined, suffocating space; taking a frantic breath, he stepped past you, out into the hall. Finally, he could breathe.

You trailed behind him, suddenly becoming shy as you listened to him drone on.

“I don’t even know why I came here, to be honest. I-I just couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking about you and - fuck, that sounds creepy...” He turned on his heel, hands finding his head again, burying the bandaged fingers deep in the roots of his hair. “It’s pathetic, honestly, because you’re so smart and mature even though you’re younger than me and you’re already so successful going to university...it doesn’t make any sense at all, really, but for some reason I-” He stopped his manic monologue, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes before speaking again. “I like you, regardless of the way you ridicule me and constantly tell me to shut up and - shit, I even like the way you call me dumbass. You have no idea what you do to me, and you don’t even try.”

He ran out of things to say, it seemed - or maybe he just wanted to give you a chance to add something to the conversation. You couldn’t tell in the dim lighting of the hallway, but his hands were shaking ever so slightly; he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, as if they were a safe haven and would rid him of his uneasiness.

Before you could utter a single word, he spoke again. “Sorry if this is all too much, I just didn’t know what to do, a-and I’m bad with my words so I probably didn’t do a good job of explaining exactly how I feel-”

“If you’re bad with your words, then show me.” You said, a newfound confidence overcoming you out of nowhere.

Your words left him dumbfounded. He quirked a thick eyebrow. “What did you just say?”

“I said…” You took a step closer to him, “Show me how you feel.”

He wasted no time in closing whatever space was left between the two of you, hands finding either side of your face and pulling you to him. Crashing his lips onto yours, it was a wonder how your knees didn’t give out right then and there; you immediately melted into him, lips working feverishly against his and gladly welcoming his exploring tongue. It was almost as if he read your mind, clutching onto your shoulders and backing you up against the wall, somehow deepening the kiss further.

Barely detaching his hungry lips from yours, he mumbled against your lips. “You want me to show you what I’m feeling right now?”

Before you could even form a response, he drove his hips into yours, allowing you to feel just how hard he was and pulling a quiet whimper from your chest. This time, your knees did buckle under you, but Baji made sure to keep you upright between his strong hands. “Thought you were stronger than that, Angel. Don’t go tapping out on me just yet.”

You fluttered your eyes open, already drunk off his actions and butterflies forming in your tummy. His dark eyes held your gaze, so moody and mysterious, you found yourself getting lost in them. How did you never realize it before? How enchanting his eyes were, the specks of gold seemingly shimmering down at you. You knew your disdain for him didn’t allow you to feel anything other than aggravation towards him, but after what transpired last night, you couldn’t help but feel pure, unadulterated admiration towards him.

Maybe he really did care about you all this time.

Just the mere thought of this led you to kissing him once more, wrapping your arms around his neck, clutching onto him as if your life depended on it. All you could think about was how you wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in his touch. Tongues battling for dominance, though he was clearly winning, you moaned into his mouth as his wandering hand brushed up your side to eagerly paw at your breast.

“Kei…” You panted, the two of you catching your breath for a fleeting second.

He smiled down at you, showing off his cute little fangs. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

A grin tugged at your lips. “What else have you been waiting to do with me?”

That certainly wasn’t the reply he was expecting. His cock pulsed beneath the fabric of his sweats at your words; he couldn’t even begin to explain what he wanted to do with you - what he wanted to do to you. As if it was possible, you had managed to make him even more turned on. Your aura captivated every ounce of his being; your smile, your scent, your touch, everything tumbled together in his mind and ran straight to his dick.

His body moved faster than his mind - in one effortless movement, he threw you over his shoulder and charged down the hall to your room, leaving you a mess of giggles. He thought about his hand placement, though, one strong hand over your ass to ensure you didn’t fall. Tossing you onto your bed, you smiled up at him as he crawled over you, immediately rolling his hips against yours and attaching his lips to your neck.

The tiny room was filled with the sounds of your breathy moans while Baji left wet, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. A bandaged hand joined in, wrapping itself lightly around your neck. He slid a thigh in between yours, allowing you to grind your throbbing cunt against him.

“Kei, fuck” you gasped, feeling his fangs sink into your flesh as he marked you, running his hot tongue over the bruise once he was pleased with the result.

“Need something, Angel?” He asked innocently, punctuating his question with another grind of his hard-on against your heat.

“Wait,” you spoke quietly, squeezing his arm to catch his attention.

Instantly, he pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

Turning coy, you brought your hand down to grab his bulge, fitting your hand perfectly around his length. “Have you been waiting for me to suck your cock?”

His cheeks flushed a deep rose color, his breathing halting when you palmed over him. Ever so slightly, he nodded his head and swallowed hard. “Yeah, I can’t count the times I’ve dreamt about the way those pretty lips of yours would look around my dick, Angel.”

Satisfied with his answer, you pecked his lips quickly. “Go lock the door.”

He left your side in a hurry, darting across the room to slam the door shut and locking it, returning back to you - who sat with her legs hanging off the end of the bed. Approaching you, he craned down to capture your lips in another rushed kiss, groaning as your hands found the waistband of his sweatpants. He broke the kiss, pulling his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side.

Shoving the fabric down, you didn’t hold back from smirking at the clear imprint of his cock, still veiled behind his thin briefs. You noticed the darker spot in the fabric, clearly a result of his leaking tip. Running your hands over his backside, you brought him closer to you, wide eyes maintaining eye contact as you pressed a chaste kiss to the head.

“Fuck, ___.” He groaned, brushing some of your hair over your shoulder and out of the way.

You couldn’t wait any longer, tearing the fabric off and allowing his painfully hard dick to spring up and slap against his abdomen. It was long and thick, flushed a pretty pink at the tip and littered in veins. Staring down his impressive size, you licked your lips, eager to wrap them around his cock.

Your eyes lit up at a particularly prominent vein running the length of his shaft; you ran your tongue slowly, delicately along that pulsating vein. You knew that the teasing drove him wild from the shaky breath he released, inflating your ego even more. Swirling your tongue tantalizingly slow around his head, you quickly took him into your mouth, forcing as much of his length as you could possibly fit without gagging.

The sudden action caused him to thrust himself further into your mouth. “Shit, s-sorry, you just - fuck...” He stammered, and you pulled off him entirely, connecting a thin string of saliva from your lip to his head.

“Don’t apologize,” You assured him, licking your lips once more and feeling confident. “Do it again.”

And your lips were around him once more; you tried steadying your breaths as you bobbed your head, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed reflexively around him, earning yet another strained moan from the brunette.

Both his hands were on your head, somewhat aiding you as you worked yourself along his cock. He pushed your head just a little deeper, and you relaxed yourself, enabling him to finally feel that snug feeling of your throat that he’s been so patient for. “Fuck, Angel, take my fucking cock...just like that,” He chanted, adoring the way your throat felt around him.

Tears brimming your eyes, you came up for air, unable to contain your gag reflex any longer. Giving your mouth a second to rest, you spit in your hand, wrapping it around his dick and harshly jerking him off.

Taking him in your mouth again, one hand fondled his balls gently. Baji continued to fuck your face, and you loved every second of it. It was pathetic how much you enjoyed the way his tip kissed the back of your mouth, how your throat stretched around him to take his girth. You couldn’t stand the way your clit was throbbing, so your free hand traveled to rub yourself over your shorts.

He cracked his eyes open, noticing the way you began touching yourself, and immediately tugged on your hair to pry you off his cock. “Look at you, thinking you can get yourself off from your tiny little hand.”

“Please, Kei,” You whined, hands working at undoing your shorts and sliding them down your legs.

“Want me to touch you, Angel?” He proposed, gesturing for you to lay flat on your back. You nodded your head feverishly in response, tugging your sweater over your head so you were just left in your panties and bralette. His hungry eyes trailed over your body, taking in all your beauty laid out for him. A lone hand traveled to cup your left breast. “You’re gonna have to beg a little harder, then.”

Groaning, you brought your hands up around his neck. “Kei, please, I need you inside me.”

An eyebrow curled quizzically. “Do you need my fingers?” He asked, pulling your panties to the side and swiping a finger between your wet folds. You moaned as he dipped the slender digit deep into your hole, instantly curling and hitting that sweet spot you can never seem to reach on your own.

He bent down to kiss over the bruise he left along your neck earlier, hovering his head right next to your ear as he whispered, “Or do you need me to fuck you?”

Your walls clenched around his long finger at his words, hips bucking up to indicate just how desperate you were for him to ruin you. “Fuck, please fuck me, Kei. I need your cock.” If you weren’t as turned on, you would’ve hated yourself for sounding so needy, but after getting a glimpse of just how big he was and how nice he fucked your mouth, you couldn’t resist him.

He sent you a devilish smirk, fangs on display as he ripped your panties off. “That’s better, Angel.”

Lifting your hips slightly, he guided his tip between your swollen lips, covering it in your arousal. That wasn’t enough for him, though; allowing a fat pearl of saliva to fall past his lips onto your quivering hole, he dragged his tip through his spit before sinking it into you.

“Fuck,” he rasped, eyes locked on how you swallowed his length further and further, hugging him so tightly.

You couldn’t help the pornographic moan you released as he entered you, feeling the way you contracted around his frenulum. You swore you could feel every one of his veins against your walls as he pushed into you slowly.

Bottoming out, you felt his balls rest against the curve of your ass; you mentally thanked him for giving you a second to adjust to the sheer size of him, because as soon as you gave him the silent signal to keep going, he never stopped.

Nearly drawing himself all the way out of you, he forcefully thrust right back in just for you to let out another moan. It was music to his ears, the way you moaned from his cock splitting you open. Desperate hands yanked your bralette down, putting your tits on display for him as they bounced with every ruthless thrust of his hips.

God, you’re gorgeous, he thought to himself. The image of you burned into his mind so it was impossible for him to forget. He filed it away in his head - the sight of you spread for him, a moaning mess with his markings painted on your skin, eyes screwed shut in intoxication - for him to remember whenever he was alone in his bedroom. He didn’t know if he was ever going to have you like this again, so he had to make sure this time counted.

He didn’t know it yet, but you never wanted this to end, so helplessly obsessed with the boy who only two days ago presumably hated you.

Despite not knowing, he did everything in his power to make sure you came crawling back to him. “Shit, Angel,” he puffed, not easing up on his pace, “You like the way my cock stretches you out, hm?”

All you could manage was a whimper in response, forcing your eyes open to stare up at him. He just smirked down at you, giving you a slow but deep thrust, kissing your cervix. His eyes flickered down to the little bulge below your naval that he created, bringing a bandaged hand to your tummy and pressing down.

“Look at that, Angel - I’m in your stomach.” He brought that same hand away from your abdomen and placed it around your neck, resuming his former harsh tempo of fucking into you. “No one can fuck you like me, isn’t that right, ___? This is my pretty little pussy.”

You nodded your head, tongue lolling out of your mouth. “Right, Kei. ‘S all yours.”

That familiar coil was winding in your stomach; chasing your high, you brought two fingers down to lazily circle your clit. He squeezed your neck tighter, aiding you in reaching your climax. “You gonna cum for me, Angel?”

Loving how his choking made your head feel a little dizzy, you clenched around his cock in reply. You fastened the pace of your fingers, and the unrelenting snap of his hips against yours pushed you over the edge. Contracting hard around his dick, your powerful orgasm finally hit you. “Keisuke, fuck!”

Being the gentleman he was, he fucked you through your high, but the second your breathing settled, he completely pulled out of you. Before you could even ask what he was doing, his deep voice ordered you: “On your hands and knees, I’m not done with you yet.”

The command went straight to your pussy. Despite how fucked out you were already, you rolled onto your stomach willingly, sticking your ass up and resting on your wobbly arms.

Baji knelt down behind you, running his tongue up your sensitive slit. You inhaled sharply from the feeling of his wet muscle against your already sopping hole; when you felt him kitten lick your taint, chills ran up your back, but you leaned back further into him, not wanting his mouth to leave your core.

“You taste amazing, Angel.” He exhaled, kissing your hole a final time.

He abruptly moved away, taking the base of his cock in his hand and sheathing himself into your abused cunt once again. Baji kneaded the flesh of your ass, mouth watering at how his dick disappeared into you. He smacked your right cheek hard enough to leave an imprint, and he groaned at the sight.

A large hand rested on the small of your back, and though he wasn’t forceful, the slight pressure had you buckling under your own weight due to your exhaustion. You moaned into your comforter as he rutted into you again and again, balls slapping your overstimulated clit.

“You fucked out already?” He chuckled, before he grabbed a handful of your hair and jerked you upwards, curving your back into a pretty arch. “There we go, Angel. Now I can hear how pretty you sound.”

“Kei…” You whined. If it was even possible, this new position allowed Baji to hit deeper spots inside of you; each drive of his cock against your walls made you see stars. The only word you could think of was his name - he completely fucked you dumb. “Fuck, Kei-”

The squelching sounds of your pussy filled the room as he mercilessly pounded into you. He hung his head back in pleasure, feeling his own climax approaching quickly. Your second orgasm of the night was building too, much quicker than the first.

“Angel, shit, love how you squeeze me,” A groan came from behind you and he let go of your hair, another hand crashing down on your ass.

Face planted in the sheets, your cries were muffled as they came tumbling out, the tension in your stomach becoming unbearable. You gripped his cock harshly as you came, your juices spilling out of you and coating Baji’s abdomen.

The way you squirted around him sent him over the edge; he pulled out of you at the last possible minute before his hot cum spurted out of his slit, covering your ass and lower back. “Fuck…” He sighed, stroking his cock languidly as he continued to paint your back with his release.

He swiped the hair that clung to his glistening forehead out of the way before climbing off the bed, grabbing the box of tissues off your dresser and bringing them over. You continued to sit there, face down and ass up, as you panted, trying to catch your breath. Your overstimulated pussy continued to flutter around nothing as he cleaned his cum off your skin, tossing the used tissues on your nightstand.

You finally rolled onto your back, turning your head and watching as he cleaned himself off. Feeling your face heat up, you covered your eyes with your arm; that was the first time you’ve ever squirted, and you were starting to think it wasn’t possible for you to. Clearly, you just needed to be fucked right.

He joined you back on the bed, lying next to you and letting out a long exhale. “Y’know, I’m never gonna be able to fuck my fist again after feeling that heavenly pussy of yours around me.”

You looked at him, letting out a tired laugh. “Who said you can’t just come over anytime you’re in the mood?”

“This wasn’t a one time thing?” He asked, feeling his heart flutter in his chest, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

You shrugged. “It can be a one time thing, but I was hoping otherwise.”

He smiled, pulling you into a warm embrace and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up the topic of labels, so the two of you just continued to lay there in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

It wasn’t until you heard the distant open and shut of your front door were you pulled out of your post-sex haze. Then, the familiar rattle of your doorknob. “___? Let me in... can we talk for a sec?”

You and Baji looked at each other, wide eyed and somewhat fearful. There was no way the two of you were getting out of this one.

#baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke smut #baji x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #baji keisuke fanfic #not sfw #ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ after hours ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

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bluemusickid · 4 years ago

Note

Ok so I have been this fantasy about Chris Evans lately... the reader and he are friends and Chris has a girlfriend but she’s not satisfying him in the bedroom and you guys get a little tipsy one night and you end up making all his naughty dreams a reality... and there will be lots of dirty talk like, “she can’t make you feel like this... or does her mouth feel as good as my mouth does, etc”... I need you to work your smutty magic on this one! Could be for any of his characters too! Whatever you’d prefer! ❤️

As much as I abhor cheating........this is a sexy one. Thanks for this one, nonnie!!

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, SMUUT, NSFW, minors DNI, drunk sex, dubcon (if you squint).

A/N: wHEW, this one was a toughie. I wanted to draw the line somewhere lol, but oh well. Hope you like it! MINORS PLS DNI. Not beta’ed, all mistakes are my own. You are responsible for your media consumption. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

This is my entry to my own challenge (lol). The colour I have chosen is red, which symbolises passion, danger, excitement. <3

You took a swig from your bottle, grimacing at the bitter taste, the sight in front of you even more bitter than the drink itself. It would have to be your worst luck that Andy Barber was here at the party, but his girlfriend as well? Killed you.

It was especially worse since you had a humongous crush on him, which didn’t seem to go away, no matter how hard you tried. It was even worse that you had to act normal around him at work, for fear of being mocked or ridiculed by your coworkers.

Andy Barber had completely encompassed your world and was a part of every waking moment. You watched him get tipsier as time passed, dancing around with his friends, his girl not leaving his side even once. If looks could kill, she’d be dead by now.

Deciding that you needed some air, you stepped out, only faltering a bit as the alcohol was steadily making itself known. Trying to light a cigarette, you heard a few voices from the garage. Your good manners were screaming at you not to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help it. The liquid courage was winning over.

“So she doesn’t go down on you?” a voice asked. You raised your eyebrows at the question.

“Uh..” you heard the answering voice sigh, followed by a nervous chuckle. Oh my gosh it was Andy. You waited with bated breath for his answer, not knowing what to expect.

"I mean we're happy with each other, she's a great girl, very kind and she's great with Jacob. But there's just no spark." He trailed off, slurring a bit at the end.

You didn't know what to feel about this little tidbit you heard; your brain was telling you that it was wrong to feel good but your senses, your mind was in jubilation. You scuttled off inside before you were caught, this new piece of information even more intoxicating than the alcohol.

You stumbled your way into a bedroom, trying desperately to find a washroom. Why was this place so goddamn big? You mused, relieving yourself, the earlier conversation playing in your head on loop. Shaking yourself mentally, you realised there was nothing you could do about it.

Stepping out, you nearly fell as you bumped into something, your foot getting caught in the doorframe. Strong arms grab onto your biceps, steadying you as you managed to straighten yourself. You looked up to thank the stranger, instead finding yourself looking into the eyes of your dream man.

"Are you ok?" He muttered, his voice soft against your ears. You inhaled sharply, your core tightening in response.

"I am now that you're here." You rasped, unsure of the words coming out of your mouth. Did you just say that? You had no game, generally.

He chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Who are you and what have you done with my sweet, innocent coworker?"

Mesmerized, you gaze at him in wonder. "Who said anything about me being innocent? I'm not a goody two shoes, I'm different." He looked at you, mildly amused. "Oh yeah? What makes you different?"

"Well, for starters, I know how to go down on my man." You whispered in his ear, moving past him, your hip brushing against his.

You had no time to register when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, his chest colliding against your back. You gasped, turning around to face him, annoyance etched on his face. “What did you say?” he growled, his breath fanning your face.

Smirking, you ran your fingers through his hair, smoothing the crinkle between his eyebrows. “The walls have ears too, you know.” you murmured, stepping closer to him. The rough material of his pants was grazing your thigh, your core throbbing with need now.

Running a finger down his torso, you stopped at the button of his jeans, looking into his eyes, wanting some reaction. Silently, you softly palmed him through his jeans, revelling in the sharp intake of his breath. You looked up at him, for permission to continue, acceptance slowly seeping into his eyes.

Undoing his zipper, you graze your fingers over his boxers, the tent in his underwear causing your core to clench.

“Can she get you this hard with just one touch?" You softly whispered, running your nose along his. He closed his eyes, his palms closing into a fist. You could feel him mentally warring with his emotions, his body betraying him.

You entangled your lips with his, tugging on his lower lip, as you pulled down his underwear. "I bet she can't do this."

You ran your tongue in one single strip along his length, the tip of your tongue circling around the tip of his member. He moaned softly, his hands undulating, as he tried to stop himself from burying them into your hair. Grinning salaciously, you said, "Answer me, Andy. Can she?"

He gulped, his mouth thinning into a line. "No." He muttered, through gritted teeth. That's just what you wanted to hear. And so you began your amorous assault, taking him in your mouth till he was buried to the hilt. You swirled your tongue, letting your underside work his length. He groaned, his hands finally making their way into your hair, his resolve now fully broken. Bobbing your head around his length, you could feel him slowly thrusting deeper into your mouth.

Suddenly, he pulled you up, throwing you over his shoulder and dropping you unceremoniously onto the bed. Stunned, you were about to retort, but were cut off by his insistent lips. Gathering your wrists in one hand, he tried to tug off your panties, his impatience winning over as he tore them off, the material dangling limply from one of your legs. He circled your nub, his need to be within you ebbing steadily.

Bracing himself on his arms, his fingers locking with yours, he thrust into you in one move, leaving you breathless. His eyes trained onto you, seeing every emotion on your face, spurred him on, as he pounded into you. There was no other way to describe it except frantic coupling. Crossing your ankles, you pushed him deeper, the new angle hitting your front wall, your thighs quivering from the sensory overload. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked thoroughly, like a whore?". You gasped, unable to form coherent thoughts, the depth and intensity in his eyes scaring you a bit. "Drop the act, sweetheart. I've seen you in office, swaying those fuckin' hips, batting your eyelashes. Don't act like you didn't want my cock in your pretty pussy, fucking you till you wept."

His words made you feel ashamed but in the deepest, darkest part of your heart, they turned you on like nothing else. They fed your libido, which was already wound tightly around his manhood. This man had you wound around his pinky, but you didn't mind. If that was the cost you had to pay to make him yours, you would pay it.

Pushing your legs up, he let go of your hands to caress your swollen bud. You screamed as the new position left you seeing stars, your legs nearly losing sensation, a warmth seeping through your body. Your silky walls grasped him tightly, to the point where you became one, as he shouted his release. Pulling out, he panted as he glanced at the sight in front of him; your overstimulated lips swollen and wet, messy from your intermingling fluids. He cleaned you up with a wet washcloth as you dozed, leaving as quietly as he could.

You woke up after some time, your limbs and pussy sore, you relishing the ache. You didn't see Andy anywhere, but you did see your clothes neatly kept in a pile at the foot of the bed. You were just about to reach for them when your phone dinged with a message alert. Bemused, you checked and saw it was from Andy.

"See you in office, sweetheart. P.S. Wear a skirt. Don't be late."

Part 2

Tags: @donutloverxo @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @gotnofucks @imdarkinme @ozarkthedog @savior-adriana @chrissquares @a-little-counter-esperanto @denisemarieangelina @chris-butt @patzammit @tenaciousperfectionunknown @worksby-d @starlightcrystalline @tinylumpiaa @whosmarisaaarw @jbreenr @melli0112 @harrysthiccthighss @bigchoose @violentyoshi

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buggiesbuzzing · 4 years ago

Text

First Dates with The BAU

• It took absolutely forever for Rossi to ask you out — he only came to his senses after Hotchner cornered him.

DAVID ROSSI

• Both of you are BAU agents and you had only been on the team for a few months; Aaron started to see Dave get distracted by you and he finally confronted him about it.

• David invited you over to his place for dinner and a movie, and honestly when he asked you over, you nearly fainted.

• You arrived 15 minutes early, so you ended up sitting in your car giving yourself a pep talk until it was exactly 6:30, which was the time agreed upon.

• When he opened the door, he was speechless.

• You were dressed like you'd been going to a charity ball. You were absolutely dazzling.

• He didn't hesitate to step aside and let you into his home.

• The smells. The warmth. Everything felt like something out of a dream.

• Rossi told you stories and charming jokes over dinner; he made you his favorite meal, carbonara.

• The evening was going really well and your face had started to ache from how much you'd been smiling.

• Overall the night felt like a dream, other than the fact that you'd drank a bit too much wine when you were trying ease your nerves.

• Rossi ended up snatched your keys and gave you a pair of pajamas to change into.

• He'd picked out some classic Italian film for you guys to watch after your meal, and you snuggled up to Dave's side to watch it.

• After the movie, he led you to a guest room in his self-proclaimed mansion and got you into bed before saying goodnight and leaving.

• Unbeknownst to you, he checked in on you every half hour for the next 3 hours before passing out in his own room a couple doors down from the one you were in.

• You woke up the next morning to Dave with a cup of coffee and an over the counter pain pill.

• Dave gave you back your keys and said his goodbyes before letting you head off to work.

• You always had a go bag stashed in your car, so you didn't bother driving home, and you headed off to Quantico.

• When you had gotten into work, Derek approached you, but before he could say anything about your sunglasses or your clearly disheveled appearance, you held your hand up to silence him and scuttled to the bathroom, go bag in hand and dreading all the questions you'd be asked today.

• Aaron had met you during a case, seeing as your brother was their unsub.

AARON HOTCHNER

• You instantly felt a connection when he first spoke to you, but didn't act on it until nearly 6 months after the case was closed.

• Agent Hotchner gave you his personal number if you'd ever needed to talk and one day, you took advantage of that.

• It was the anniversary of your brother being put in prison and you were exceptionally emotional - which ended up in a sad and tipsy call to the agent.

• Aaron's day was just going to be dedicated to paperwork from his latest case, but he decided he'd get to it another time.

• You were a hot mess when Hotchner arrived, but you couldn't bring yourself to get off of the couch and fix yourself up.

• He quickly picked up on what you were going through; a few cans of fruity flavored beer were semi-crushed and sitting on your coffee table along with a pint of sugary sweet ice cream and what looked like a nest of blankets was piled up on your couch.

• He easily made his way through your apartment since he'd been there before and got you a glass of water to try and help sober you up.

• He talked you through your tears and pain, all while making sure you were well taken care of.

• Before you realized it, it was 5pm and Aaron was still sitting beside you on your couch.

• For the last few minutes, you'd been watching some old kids shows in silence; it was just something that helped you calm down and he was actually enjoying the time he'd spent with you.

• You got up from the dent in the couch that you'd been wallowing in and stretched.

• There was no way you were going to cook tonight, so you ordered a couple of large pizzas to be delivered.

• Both of you had eaten pizza and you chattered about some whacked out theory about the show Rugrats, while Aaron just listened and made sure you were distracted from whatever turmoil that your brothers villainy had caused.

• When the day was over and Aaron was ready to return home to his son, he gave you a card for a support group that he thought would benefit you.

• And that's where you expected it to end; after all this was just him doing his job, right?

• Wrong.

• He showed a kind of bashfulness that you absolutely did not expect from the stern man, and he asked if he could take you out on an actual date.

• Obviously, you said yes.

• Your first date wasn't ideal, but, both of you enjoyed your time together.

DEREK MORGAN

• Derek went to a club with Penelope and Emily when he first met you and right off the bat he was into you.

• You started talking and instantly clicked — unfortunately, he couldn't spend the night with you due to being called into work, but you set up a date to see each other again, then you exchanged numbers and he disappeared.

• The first few times you'd try to go out on a proper date with him, he'd keep getting called into work beforehand, so he'd have to take a rain check.

• Finally, he was actually free for a night and you invited him over to your apartment for dinner and some drinks.

• He arrived only seconds after the clock struck 5PM and god you were awestruck as soon as you seen him.

• This man made you question how clothes could be tight and yet, still seem loose.

• Happily, you let him into your home which had a warm glow and atmosphere; your lights were dimmed, soft music was playing throughout the house, the delicious scent of food being cooked was in the air — it was amazing.

• You made an array of drinks for the both of you and conversed about anything either of you could think of.

• Derek charmed his way into dancing around the room with you before you'd have to take the food you were cooking off the heat.

• Dinner was about the same; the male joked and chattered, throwing out compliments here and there.

• The night seemed perfect, you even got in a couple of smooches — and then his phone started ringing.

• You understood when he had to leave, which was around 10PM.

• He promised he'd make it up to you and take a full vacation day for you, so you could have a date night at his place next.

JENNIFER JAREAU

• Originally, the plan was for you to be Henry's caretaker while JJ was working — though it deviated sometime after about 6 months of being employed by her.

• You had major crush on your boss, and sometimes, it felt like she was in the same situation; though you doubted it.

• One night before tucking Henry in for bed, he said he wanted to tell you a secret.

• “Mommy really likes you. . .”

• That simple phrase made butterflies become trapped in your stomach, but you tried to push them down.

• “I really like her too. . .”

• It felt good to actually say it.

• Now, confiding in a little kid about you liking their mom wasn't too wise; the secret wasn't kept for more than a week.

• Jennifer approached you one night after she'd came home from work — Henry was already asleep in his room and you were doing coursework for college when she asked to have dinner with you tomorrow night.

• You didn't even hesitate to accept her invitation.

• The place wasn't very fancy, but that was 100% fine with you.

• It was a small 24 hour diner outside of town that had the best breakfast that you'd ever eaten.

• The two of you chattered about how Henry's fine motor skills and how his speech was developing, and how your classes were going.

• The night was perfect, she even went out of her way to drive yourself to your place — even though she insisted you stay at hers because it was rather late, but you needed to get some housework done, and chose to go home.

• That night, you spent nearly an hour thinking about the date before passing out.

SPENCER REID

• The good doctor met you during a case not too far off from Quantico.

• You were doing an hands on internship with a medical examiner and Dr. Reid happened to come by to get autopsy details and the toxicology report from a recent string of homicides that the BAU was investigating.

• Almost instantly, he struck something in you and you couldn't keep your eyes off of him.

• The way he spoke so factually on the unusual way that this ‘unsub’ tortured his victims before they succumbed to death, just made you more interested in the supposed genius.

• Sooner than you'd hoped, the BAU wrapped their case up and you were in fear that the chance to actually talk to Spencer was about to slip between your fingers.

• That was until Spencer and Agent Rossi came in one last time.

• You swallowed the nervousness bubbling inside of you and quickly asked him for his number.

• To your surprise, he actually gave it to you rather quickly.

• He was just as entranced with you as you were with him.

• One night, you'd gotten off early and decided to invite Spencer over to your apartment.

• You'd fixed up a simple meal for the two of you and make sure your apartment was in tip-top shape.

• When he arrived, you were in awe. He was dressed up in a suit, which wasn't far from what you'd first seen him in, however he was glowing.

• He looked like he'd slept pretty well, he was donning a soft smile and holding out a small bouquet made up of red carnations, yellow jasmine flowers, and multicolored hibiscuses. They complimented each other well.

• You, of course, gracefully accepted the bouquet and welcomed him into your home, situating the flowers in an elegant vase at the table.

• You and Spencer spent the night talking about anything and everything; you found his knowledge fascinating and beautiful.

• The date ended in you both passing out intertwined in each others limbs on the couch while a cheesy rom-com played out on the TV.

EMILY PRENTISS

• Emily first seen you while you were doing an interview with Hotchner to join the BAU.

• The agents of the BAU sat, staring into the office as you smiled sweetly and spoke to Hotchner about your experience in criminal psychology and communications, and thus far he seemed intrigued.

• It was almost instantly that Emily was enamored; you were just too beautiful for her to ignore.

• About half an hour later, you and Hotch exited the office, he shook your hand with a look of accomplishment on both of your faces.

• With a loud clearing of his throat, any remaining agents or passerbys turned their attention to the head agent as he prepared to make an announcement.

• Applause erupted as your eyes scanned the room, landing on the black haired beauty that was SSA Emily Prentiss.

• “Will you please welcome our new agent, Y/n L/n, to the BAU.”

• You situated your new desk with the few belongings that you'd had in your bag.

• The work day was coming to an end while other agents put away any remaining paperwork that they'd been working on and out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the pretty agent from before approaching your desk.

• Obviously, you agreed and headed out with the rest of the group.

• “Hey, a few of us were going out to get drinks, and we were wondering if you'd like to come with us to celebrate you joining the BAU?”

• Agent Hotchner bought the first round of celebration drinks and made a toast in honor of their new agent.

• Not too long after the toast, Emily sat beside you and formally introduced herself before making conversation.

• The two of you spent the night learning about each other and talking about what your job may entail.

• After a while, and about 4 drinks, you were taking a cab with her back to her place.

• She insisted that you spend the night at her place and meet her cat, Sergio, and you agreed.

• The rest of the night was fuzzy, but you woke up in a bed that was unfamiliar with a cat laying on top of you and the smell of pancakes and bacon filling your nostrils.

• You carefully moved, the cat hopping off once he'd realized you woke up.

• Gently, you walked to the kitchen to find Emily cooking breakfest looking lively as ever.

• “Good morning, hotcakes.”

• With a nervous chuckle, you awkwardly asked if anything had happened between the two of you the night prior.

• “Oh heavens, no; we were both much too drunk. I slept on the couch.”

• A huge sigh of relief came from you as Emily sat a plate of food in front of you along with a couple asprin and a coffee.

• You thanked her for her kindness, but she waved it off with a pink tint rising to her cheeks and ears.

• You ate breakfast and headed to work together.

• Once you entered the BAU, SSA Morgan began wiggling his brows at Emily, earning a playful punch to the shoulder.

PENELOPE GARCIA

• You first met the effervescent Penelope Garcia when SSA Derek Morgan came into the ER with some minor injuries due to their latest mission; she, of course, was freaking out.

• “What if he's really hurt? Or — or —”

• She enveloped you in a hug, thanking you for your effort to calm her down, and you hugged her back with a comforting squeeze.

• “Don't worry, Miss Garcia, he only has some scrapes and bruises, he'll be back to normal before you know it. We're just making sure that he gets the proper care he needs before he can return to work.”

• After guiding her through some simple breathing exercises, her heart rate began to lower.

• Only moments passed before Derek came out with a smile and they had a small chat, which included Penelope scolding him for being reckless.

• Savannah came and picked Derek up, leaving you and Penelope alone in the empty waiting room.

• “Hey, so Miss nurse - sorry I didn't get your name. . .”

• “Well, Miss L/n, would you perhaps like to go out and get a drink with me, sometime?”

• “It's Y/n, Y/n L/n.”

• And with that, you got her number and met her the next week at a high end restaurant.

• You brought her some assorted roses and made sure the meal was paid for, although she tried to pay you, but you told her not to worry about it.

• You spent the night listening her speak about the things she was passionate about.

• Unfortunately, about half an hour passed by before you'd gotten called back in by the hospital.

• You drove Penelope to her apartment and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

• “I really enjoyed tonight, Penelope.”

• “I did too, Y/n, but next time I'm paying the bill.”

• She giggled and gave you a quick smooch before shuffling into the apartment, leaving you flushed as you headed back to work.

• “So there's going to be a next time?”

tags :: @wordvomit-foryourmind

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wellpresseddaisy · 2 years ago

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Use Any Means

Part 3

Hagrid caught up with Harry just as a goblin met them at the Floo. Harry stood waiting with his arms wrapped about his stomach, looking paler than usual.

"Alright Harry?"

"Don't think I've eaten enough lately." Harry answered quietly.

"Yeah, well, we'll get you sorted out in a bit." Hagrid promised, patting his shoulder carefully.

"Thanks." Harry smiled up at him before turning to the goblin. "Thank you for the use of the Floo, er, I'm sorry but I don't think I heard your name."

"Gringotts values efficiency. They're waiting for you." The goblin didn't give a name, just turned and marched down the hall.

Harry scuttled after their host. Hagrid followed more slowly, thinking over what needed to happen. Harry's safety remained the most important thing. He'd be better protected in, hopefully, just a few minutes. After that, well, Andromeda rarely failed when she put her mind to something. He just hoped she got the word out. Harry needed someone to teach him how to be the Black Duke, how to function in Society.

Hagrid could teach him all about creatures like Bucky, but not what silverware to use or how to dance like the nobs or how to use those tonnish kinds of manners. Sirius could have, but Sirius…he tried not to think about the last time Sirius slipped out of Grimmauld for a visit in his hut most days.

He'd talked a lot that night, mostly about Harry and his plans for the boy. The bow or curtsy at Almack's and the trip to the Vauxhall Gardens, the debut ball at a restored Grimmauld (though Sirius said Black House) after Harry finished his education, the teas and routs and card parties and dances, and maybe even a brilliant match for Harry--if he wanted that. Or a happy bachelor life for a while with afternoons at the club and riding in the park and broom races and horse races and quiet evenings and all sorts of things.

Sirius had such plans for a happy life for Harry. But…no use crying over things that couldn't come to pass.

Hagrid followed Harry through an open door, into one of the small rooms Gringotts kept for client meetings. Molly and Ron sat at one side of the table with Hermione and her parents on the other side. He'd never met them before, but who else could they be looking so much like their daughter?

"Harry, what are we doing here?" Hermione caught sight of him first. "Mrs. Weasley came for me and Ron at Hogsmead station and my parents were here when we arrived."

"That's down to me, I expect." Hagrid grinned sheepishly. "Harry has a chance at, well, something big in his life and he wanted advice. I knew he'd want his best friends."

"Harry, mate, what is it?" Ron asked.

"Hagrid just told me. I'm the Black Heir, Ron. Sirius…he adopted me as a baby as backup and he made me the heir. I can…with Sirius…I don't know what to do." Harry stumbled over an explanation as he made his way to a seat.

"Then you take it, Harry. S'long as you don't forget your friends when you're all fancy." Ron pulled his chair over so he could sit next to Harry and bump shoulders. "And it'll keep everything with you, I think. Depends on entails and things. That could cut certain people off at the knees."

"What, exactly, does being the Black Heir mean?" Hermione asked carefully. "We really should be taught all this, honestly!"

"It means Harry would be the Black Duke if the family magic accepts him. He'd be the head of the Black family in England. That would give him a great deal of power, both magical and social. It's also a great deal of responsibility." Mrs. Weasley explained quietly. "Without a lot of support it could be hard."

"Er, Andromeda's got that under control." Hagrid assured her. "There's the Welsh root."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "That will come out all right, then."

"I haven't heard of any family with a title," Hermione murmured thoughtfully.

Her parents seemed to listen intently, only sharing a speaking glance now and again.

"It's the only family headship that still has a title attached. I don't know who it would go to if it wasn't you, Harry. The title has gone down the main line of the family for hundreds of years. Your great-grandmother was a Black, and Sirius adopting you would reinforce your claim. Well, not a claim really. You would have been confirmed by the family magic. The Black Family is one that allows their magic to choose."

Harry felt a burst of gratitude that Mrs. Weasley knew these things. He knew so little about either world he lived in.

"And a fifteen-year-old can claim the title and be the Head of the family?" Hermione's mother sounded incredulous.

"It isn't generally done, but yes. Yes for the Black Family in particular. They've always had their own rules and, well, magical society is still quite…feudal." Mrs. Weasley shrugged.

"I think I want to see if I'll be accepted." Harry decided. "I can't not. I…Sirius wanted this for me and I…I want to."

"You don't want to think it over?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"I've been thinking since Hagrid told me. I think this is what Sirius wanted to discuss but couldn't yet. I might fail horribly, but I have to try, Hermione. It feels right." Harry reached across the small table for her hand. "You'll be there with me, yeah?"

"Where else would I be?" Hermione managed a weak smile. "It'll change…Harry, you might be going somewhere Ron and I can't."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "You're one of his best friends and Ronnie is a son of House Weasley and House Prewett. Of course you'll be right where he is. And in any case, you have lovely manners and a good intellect. You'd be going places on your own, without these two."

"Mum!" Ron objected, mostly for form's sake. "Of course we'll be with you, Harry. You'd be in a fearful muddle without us. Might be on your own learning to dance, though."

Harry managed a laugh at that. "Does anyone know what I need to do for this?"

"I'd imagine there's a signet ring, dear." Mrs. Weasley smiled at him. "I think Hagrid's gone to find out."

Only moments later a goblin entered the room, this time without Hagrid, but carrying a small casket.

"I am Danesfoe, Mr. Potter. I have overseen the Black Family accounts for many years. I confess myself glad to see you here. Once you have been accepted by the ring, we will have much to discuss."

He stopped before Harry and opened the casket. A signet ring gleamed softly in rich, dark velvet. A brilliant emerald carved with the Black crest sparkled in gold fittings. Harry took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"If you have been tormenting yourself with gothic horrors, the ring will simply do nothing if the magic adjudges you insufficient to lead the family. If you are accepted, there will be a green glow." Danesfoe pushed the casket toward Harry again.

Harry lifted the ring from the velvet and, following instinct, put it on his left hand ring finger. Immediately he felt a swell of rising magic that felt like home and heard a faint 'heal him…heal the child of our blood' before the world glowed brightly green.

Then black.

He opened his eyes again to a red-tinged, blurry world that seemed to involve a lot of screaming. And he was on the floor. How had that happened?

"Wha' hap'nd?" He asked, croaking thickly. The screaming stopped. Wonderful. Had he been screaming?

"Harry…you…I…your scar." Hermione sounded shocky and maybe as if she'd been crying.

"Righ'." That explained the splitting headache. "But how did I get on the floor?"

"You kind of slid, mate." Ron didn't sound any steadier than Hermione.

"Huh. Oh, er, sorry if I frightened anyone. These things happen, sometimes." He waved a hand in the direction of Hermione's parents. "Awkward when you don't really know someone." He added, sotto voce for Hermione and Ron.

Hermione just sniffled.

"Harry, dear, could you sit up if Ronnie helps you?" Mrs. Weasley sounded close.

Harry let Ron haul him upright and leaned heavily against him. Hermione clutched his hand, hard, as soon as he was upright. He squinted at Mrs. Weasley as she bathed blood off his face. That explained the red tinge to everything, he expected. Her hands shook a bit.

"Well." Harry thought it was Mr. Dr. Granger speaking. "You don't see a screaming phantasm burst from someone's forehead every day."

"And here I started my day only expecting to be bitten by nervous patients." Mrs. Dr. Granger picked up the thread. "Hermione certainly never mentioned that as a possibility."

"Sorry about my forehead." Harry put in. "Does that sometimes. Did it work? The ring?"

He tried to look around for Danesfoe but Mrs. Weasley kept turning his head back to wipe more blood from his face. And the lights seemed so bright he closed his eyes again.

"It worked, Your Grace. Perhaps we could reconvene at your leisure to discuss your Gringotts holdings?" Poor Danesfoe probably hadn't expected screaming phantasm, either.

"Er, yeah. Could I send a letter?"

"I'll await your correspondence." Harry heard something very few magicals had ever heard before: a goblin retreating hastily from a room.

"Have to get him something nice." Harry told Mrs. Weasley seriously. "He didn't expect my forehead this morning, either."

"Of course, dear." Mrs. Weasley replied absently. "There. I think I got the worst of it. Your clothes are likely a loss, but…"

"We can burn 'em after Harry gets a new wardrobe now he's got a title." Ron sounded a little too excited about that. "Been wanting to for ages."

Harry patted his knee. "Thanks, Ron."

"We…we looked up spells for it, but Ron just wants to use regular matches." Hermione's voice still shook a bit, but she sounded more like herself.

"Do you think you might be ready to get up?" Mrs. Weasley patted arm.

"Maybe it's best if I sit a minute?" His legs felt like rubber.

"You take your time, love. We'll just have a nice sit with you."

Wonderful woman, Mrs. Weasley. He should probably do something nice for everyone in the room, really, considering it. The door opened as Harry weighed taking everyone out for ice cream. He managed to open his eyes enough to make out a tall man with dark hair in the doorway.

"Damme, I'm going to be beating them off with sticks in a few years." The stranger spoke while staring down at Harry.

#use any means #hagrid schemes #harry potter au #hp society/the ton #hp the season/the ton au #hp the season au

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ilovelollipopx · 4 years ago

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can i ask how you think aatrox, kayn, sett, teemo, and viego would react to a super bubbly and giggly s/o who runs up and hugs them or gives them surprise little kisses at times?

it's a ragtag bunch but they're all my faves--

(also idk if you're uncomfortable including teemo, but if you don't wanna write for him you don't have to ^^;;)

Aatrox

If it's at the beginning of the relationship where he is still adjusting to keeping such an optimistic partner by his side, he'll likely react much. Though once he gets used to the sudden outbursts of happiness and random affectionate touches he'll grow to expect them.

Never really knows what you're giggling about most of the time and likes to think you are very mischievous more so than a scuttle bug. So if Aatrox doesn't get random kisses, hugs, or hear any giggling he'll think something is off with his s/o. Since he is also a bit edgy and used to gore and whatnot he'll cherish someone so brightly and would create a bloodbath.

Kayn

Bright and Bubbly is the entire opposite of his brooding personality especially since he has a darkin who wants to see runeterra literally burn to ashes. He'll have the attitude that will be very rude and he makes it seem that he is extremely annoyed merely by your presence. However, it is just because he isn't used to someone with such a bright and optimistic viewpoint on life. Depending on if his s/o is negatively impacted by his attitude will determine how quickly he gets his shit together.

As for the random acts of physical affection, he'll be very flustered and off-put by it but eventually, he'll grow to enjoy such things.

Sett

This half-Human vastaya will absolutely cherish and protect you with every breath he has. Doesn't find you annoying at all, you are his s/o after all, and that's the personality he fell for. It's also refreshing in a sense when his s/o can literally brighten his day and he will not hesitate to pull you into his arms.

As for those surprises, he'll catch you off guard one of these days.

Teemo

Assuming his s/o is human or not a yordle they'll be taller than him by at least 3-4ft. He doesn't mind this though and as someone who giggles a lot too finds it quite enjoyable. Being a Bandle Scout he's always completing the requirements for his badge and enjoys completing the ones that require another in it.

Loves getting kisses whether his s/o leans down to give one or lifts him up. Teemo is an affectionate little bugger and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Veigo

(Im gonna use a soulmate Au for this)

At first before finding his true s/o hed only crack a smile or any genuine reaction for Isolde. However when all these changes occur and he finds you his search for Isolde stops.

Veigo can never go back to the person he once was, and if his s/o even accepts all the past atrocities he committed leading up to the ruination. Then maybe his fate wasn't so terrible in the end, after all, unlike Isolde, he'll cherish you and would keep a close eye at all times.

Having a s/o who is bubbly and giggly despite the black mist surrounding them his heart will flutter each time. Enjoying every surprise kiss or act of affection that is shown to him, even stealing you away from whatever tasks you'd be focused on to spend time together. Even if they are just kisses and hugs they mean the whole of runeterra to him, and he'd ruin everything in his path once more just to relish in it.

#league of legends #lol x reader #lol veigo #lol sett #lol teemo #lol kayn #lol aatrox #league of legends headcanons #league of legends x reader headcanons #league of legends x reader

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sushi0989 · 3 years ago

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Pick Me If You Want To (part 3)

Summary: Set in the early 1950s, you are an aspiring photographer that is currently working at a toy store until you make your big break. During a surge of Christmas shopping, you are first met by Wanda Maximoff, a mother of twin boys and married. She leaves her gloves, which gives you the opportunity to meet her again. She takes fond of you, and you of her, but her messy divorce with her husband, Vision, risks the custody of her twins. Does she continue your blossoming relationship or fight for her kids? Based on the movie Carol

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: smut and explicit content, don’t read if you’re under 18!

Word Count: 6k

A/N: After this chapter, I think it’s going to take me longer to get content written and published because I want to take my time with writing and making sure that it’s good before I post. Enjoy reading! <3

You and Wanda arrived at a rundown motel in Ohio to stay the night. You wished you had the ability to drive so that Wanda didn’t have to exert all of her energy, but alas you did not. Despite appearing a bit ragged on the outside, the interior of the motel was quaint and surprisingly polished. You dragged your ratchet luggage to the front desk while Wanda effortlessly tugged hers along since all four of her wheels were working properly unlike yours. She found your clumsiness adorable as she attempted to conceal her giggles while you struggled.

The old man at the front desk, however, was not amused by your failure at picking up your luggage as he found it frustrating since it was not that hard to maneuver. As the two of you reached him, he already filled out most of the form. You took notice of his posh demeanor even though this had to have been at most a 2-star motel. Who does he think he is? He wore a light blue dress shirt with a black tie, his shiny bald head was his most striking feature. His peppered gray goatee was thin and his thin-rimmed glasses were held together by tape in the middle.

“I have a two-bedroom suite on level 2 room number 3. Could I get your name and the number of nights you plan to stay?” he asked with little civility due to his irritants for your lack of professionalism. Wanda took notice of the man’s behavior and responded in the same manner.

“Wanda Maximoff and one night is enough. And why don’t you get some manners and help my friend with her bag instead of silently judging her?” Wanda huffed and raised an eyebrow. After he wrote down the information, the man cleared his throat and walked around the desk while muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch. He assumed that you lacked the knowledge of rolling your bag by the handle, but then he noticed that one of your wheels was broken and understood why you were struggling.

Wanda laughed at him, not making any attempt at hiding it this time. You couldn’t help but laugh with her and the two of you walked past him to get to your room. The man gave up and carried the luggage up to your room instead of dragging it along the carpet. The still night allowed your giggles to echo into the atmosphere, but it eventually stopped as you neared your room. Wanda unlocked it with a key the man, who was struggling with lifting the bag up the stairs, gave to her in the lobby.

There was nothing too alluring about the room, it was quite average. The two twin beds, both an interesting orange color with stripes, had a few feet of space in between them. There was a window next to the front door with curtains that matched the color of the bedsheets. The bathroom had the basics: a shower, toilet, sink, and soap. You were surprised there was toilet paper as well.

“I expected worse,” you admitted with a pleasantly surprised expression as you took in the room. You heard the man’s heavy panting get louder as he neared your room, practically stumbling when he placed your luggage inside.

“That’s what happens when you make assumptions without doing a bit of digging,” Wanda teased, the man rolled his eyes and muttered “Merry Christmas” as he left. She quickly shut the door while you flopped back into the bed nearest to the bathroom, claiming it as yours.

“If I’m feeling this tired then you must be exhausted. You should get some rest,” you told Wanda who opened up her bag and pulled out some pajamas. You watched as she dug through to look for something, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration and her teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

“I will, I want to take a shower first, but I can’t seem to find my towel,” Wanda continued rummaging through her bag, but you understood by her huffing and puffing that she must have forgotten to pack it. “Here, let me get mine out of my bag,” you insisted and rose from your bed. Wanda assured you she brought it even though you both knew she didn’t. “Oh, please it’s no big deal. I’ll take a shower in the morning and I’m sure it’ll dry by then,” you waved her off as you easily found your towel in your luggage.

You handed her your light purple towel and she hesitantly took it with a sigh, there was nothing she could really do; either accept your offering or try to find a rag in the cabinet that would most likely be moldy.

“Thank you very much,” she smiled with gratitude and you nodded back, her smile bringing a shiver up your spine and fluttering in your stomach. It was something about that dark red lipstick that made you go crazy. No. You can’t let her get to you or else this is going to be another Steve situation where you’ll end up breaking her heart. Besides that she is a soon-to-be divorced mother of two children, you definitely aren’t ready for that. But her lips.

Wanda blushed when she saw you staring her lips up and down, but then you got flustered when you realized that she caught you and quickly turned away. Neither of you mentioned it, so Wanda made her way into the bathroom but caught a glimpse of you smiling at your thoughts.

While Wanda showered, you could hear her humming some songs you had never heard. It was pure bliss to your ears as you laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. How were you falling for this woman so quickly? A woman. You would have never thought you would be head over heels for a woman in this day and age. Sure, you’ve had some crushes on girls, but you would brush them away since it was taboo. But with Wanda, there was something more alluring about her. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed to reciprocate those feelings back to you.

The way she comforted you when Steve left was something you were so grateful for, but that is what was sending you to your tipping point. You knew that this wasn’t just you craving her touch, but also her heart. Right now, however, you needed to make sure you were also there for her. She’s in the midst of a heated divorce with her husband and about to lose her husband, so you couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. If she wants to get closer, then she will have to make the first move.

“Go with the flow,” you muttered to yourself as you pulled at your fingers.

“What was that?” Wanda hummed as she stepped out of the bathroom, your towel wrapped around her body and steam infiltrating out of the bathroom. Her body was moist and glistening from the excess water, her hair sopping wet with water dripping from them. You were speechless. You immediately covered your eyes out of respect.

“God, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to stare,” you quickly apologized which earned a chuckle from Wanda. “Oh don’t worry you can look. I’m covered up, am I not?” she teased and bit her lip seeing you fluster at her response. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you continued to ramble. “Please, would you think I would come out like this if I was uncomfortable?” she questioned, but you didn’t answer.

“Well, the answer is no. I forgot to bring my clothes with me into the bathroom,” she stated as she walked over to her bed where her pajamas were neatly folded. You gradually lowered your hands from her face and glanced at her state. Damn, did she make your towel look so good on her.

She picked up her clothes and scuttled back into the bathroom and you sighed. Trying to not make the first move was going to be extremely difficult for you.

Your thoughts began to wash over one another as sleep loomed over you. You were completely passed out by the time Wanda was out of the bathroom. You were lying on your side in fetal position on top of your sheets. Wanda quietly walked towards you and gently pulled the folded blanket over you and made sure it covered your whole body. She watched as you nuzzled your head deeper into your pillow and let out a sigh when you cuddled the blanket for warmth.

Wanda ingrained this moment in her mind and quietly left the room in search of the motel’s telephone which she spotted near the stairs that led to the first floor. She dialed a phone number and stood patiently until she heard the line connect.

“Hello?” a groggy voice answered. “Vision, let me speak to the boys,” Wanda requested with a hushed voice. “They’re already in bed, Wanda. It’s nearly 11 pm,” he replied with annoyance. Wanda bit her lip, she just wanted to talk to her children and wish them a Merry Christmas since she didn’t get the chance to in the morning.

“Vision, please,” Wanda didn’t want to beg, but she missed her boys. She wanted to see their faces lit up as they unwrapped the train set she had ordered. The train set you recommended.

She heard Vision sigh as he stepped away from the phone. “Hello?” a high-pitched tired voice answered. “Merry Christmas, Tommy! Is Billy with you, too?” Wanda’s heart warmed hearing the voice of her child. She yearned to hug them and kiss the tops of their heads.

“Yeah, I’m right here, Mom,” Billy replied also with a tired voice. Wanda smiled to herself listening to them, she imagined them standing there half asleep rubbing their eyes.

“How was your Christmas? Did you enjoy the train set?” Wanda asked. She knew they would love it because they were into building things and using their imaginations, just as she and Pietro would also do as children.

“It was so cool! We played with it all day, thank you, mom!” The two of them responded at the same time, making Wanda chuckle. The cool wind outside began to pick up causing Wanda to shiver.

“Okay boys, go to bed. I’m sorry I woke you. Be nice to your dad and grandparents and I’ll see you both when you get back,” she said sternly trying not to let her voice break. The twins said their ‘I love you’s’ and hung up the phone.

Wanda sighed as she went back to your room and silently shut the door once again. She turned off the lamps that lit the room and got into her own bed facing you. She stared at you as she dozed off as well, your peaceful expression being the last thing on her mind as she fell into a deep slumber once her exhaustion hit her.

The morning sunlight seeped through the cheap curtains of the hotel room and shined directly into your face. As you became aware of your surroundings, you could hear the birds singing outside filling the atmosphere with their beautiful tunes. You opened your eyes facing away from the window so you wouldn’t blind yourself.

A faint rhythmic snoring caught your attention, so you turned around seeing Wanda sprawled out on her bed still sleeping soundly. One could easily disregard it, but the room was so quiet that you couldn’t help but take in this moment. You didn’t find it to be obnoxious, unlike Steve’s. His snores would start deep in his throat and wake you even when you’re blacked out. You eventually convinced him to get diagnosed with sleep apnea and he had to learn some breathing exercises to lessen them, but they still persisted and now you could proudly say you can sleep through a train passing by.

You figured you should get up and take a shower now before Wanda does so that you guys could hit the road as soon as you could. You stretched your back once you sat up on your bed and saw your towel draped on a chair sitting in the corner of the room. You were reminded of Wanda’s after shower figure: wrapped up in your towel, red hair dripping wet, body shining from the condensation of the steamy shower, and now you were going to use that same towel.

You picked out a casual outfit to wear so you could be comfortable on the drive and you quietly slipped into the shower as to not wake up Wanda. You let the shower run for a minute so the hot water would come through, and it relaxed your body as it hit your skin. Wanda left her shampoo and soap sitting on the side of the tub, so you figured it would be okay to use it for yourself. The smell of peaches was pleasant, you could only imagine how it would smell on Wanda. As you finished up, you rubbed lotion on yourself before putting on your clothes.

The cooler air of the room was a punch to the face, but you received another punch when you saw Wanda’s backside completely bare, only wearing her undergarments. Thankfully she didn’t notice you come out of the bathroom drooling at her appearance, so you stumbled back into the bathroom making sure you gave no indication you exited in the first place.

Wanda heard the click of the bathroom door and quickly turned around only to see no one there. She briskly put on her black slacks, a blue blazer over a white blouse, and tied a red ribbon around her neck, and knocked on the bathroom door to let you know that it’s okay to come out.

“Don’t worry I didn’t see anything,” you stammered as you walked out of the bathroom trying to be nonchalant about the situation. “Are you saying I look bad with no clothes?” Wanda faked being hurt with an exaggerated gasp, but you took it literally.

“What?! Of course not! I didn’t say that! You look grea- I mean, you look perfectly fine,” you replied defensively but bit down on your tongue to try not to embarrass yourself more. “I’m just teasing you, darling. Enough of that, we need to hit the road if we want to get to Chicago by tomorrow tonight,” she exclaimed, resuming packing up her clothes.

You decided to leave your towel out and laid it across the back seat of the car to let it dry. The old man from last night was replaced by a younger-looking man who seemed to be much nicer. He was happy to assist you in taking your broken luggage into the car without any hesitation. He insisted that the two of you try out the breakfast that the motel provided to their ‘esteemed guests’ in the dining hall.

“I felt so esteemed last night by Mr. Baldyhead,” you muttered under your breath as you and Wanda walked to the breakfast bar. Wanda snorted when attempting to suppress her laughter at your comment. There were more people than you had expected.

You gathered eggs, a couple of pancakes, and strawberries onto your plate and took a seat at an empty table towards the center of the room. Wanda was still eyeing the bar, so you waited to begin eating until she came. A man with sleek combed back hair in a suit gave a sly smile at you from the table seated at the table next to you. You reciprocated by giving a shy smile back and he proceeded to get up to introduce himself.

“The name is Loki Odinson, lovely to meet you two ladies,” he held out his hand in front of you and you brought up yours to shake it. “Nice to meet you as well, my name is y/n, '' you replied with a timid voice.

“What is a beautiful young woman like you sitting here all alone?” he inquired as he turned his head to see if anyone was with you. “I’m not alone, my friend is still gathering some food,” you pointed at Wanda who was now on her way. She had a confused look when she noticed the mysterious tall man, and he looked over at her and nodded in understanding.

“Hello?” Wanda said to the man with her eyebrow raised, “Do you need anything, sir?” He took a few steps back over to his table, “No, no, I just was making small talk with y/n over here. What brought the two of you here?” he asked, obviously wanting to continue the conversation. He must be alone and bored, so he’s just trying to keep himself busy, that’s what you told yourself at least.

“We are actually heading to Chicago, this is just a pit stop for us,” Wanda explained as she relaxed once she realized the man was harmless. She took notice that you had been waiting for her before beginning to eat, so she lightly kicked your foot to get your attention to tell you to eat.

“I’m headed there, too! I’m actually a traveling salesman so this is my daily life to go from one place to another,” he exclaimed with excitement. He continued to explain how he first acquired his job and what he’s doing now as you and Wanda listened intently to him, finding his outlandish stories entertaining.

“So when my dad kicked me out of the house, I went down a really dark path and got roped up in some illegal schemes. The big boss guy of this cartel wanted me to go undercover and infiltrate their rival to steal this gem that originally belonged to him, and since I was new, no one would suspect me of being a double agent. Anyways, it didn’t go over well because my brother, who works for the authorities, caught both cartels and, me being his brother, he let me go. That led me to discover my passion for sales marketing and exploring cities, so here I am now!” He concluded his very long story.

“You were part of a drug cartel?” you asked in disbelief. This guy definitely talked way too much to be a part of a cartel, somebody would surely shoot him in the face to get him to shut up. “I know it may seem crazy at first, but I assure you it’s no lie,” he laughed, but you and Wanda looked at each other with wide eyes.

After talking to the man for another twenty minutes, and him attempting to sell you some magazines, the two of you finally got up from the dining hall.

“I need to make a phone call to Monica, why don’t you go get settled in the car and I’ll meet you there,” Wanda touched your shoulder and you nodded, trying to ignore the tingling feeling of her hand on you.

“Hello Monica, how’s it going?” Wanda spoke into the phone.

“Vision came by my house looking for you. He was drunk and I told him off. I also might have told him you were going to Chicago with y/n,” she said hesitantly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t do anything, Wands,” Monica tried lightening the mood, but the pit in Wanda’s stomach said something otherwise. “He’s trying to take full custody of the boys, Mon. He’s gonna poke and prod through any little misgivings of mine he can find to make sure of it. And I don’t want him getting his hands anywhere near y/n. I’ll call you when we reach the next stop, thank you for everything Monica,” Wanda hung up the phone and took a few deep breaths to collect herself.

There was no way he could find anything that could sway the judge in his favor. She was their mother for the love of god. What kind of monster takes a mother away from her children?

Wanda entered the car and forced a smile at you which you didn’t think much of. You two finally left the small Ohio motel and were back on the road. This time you wanted to ask Wanda more about her life story since you spilled all of yours leading up to the first pit stop.

“Oh well, my parents were quite well off thanks to my grandparents. Their marriage was arranged so all of my life my twin brother, Pietro, and I had to endure their bickering on a daily basis. He was and still is, one of my best friends. We would run off into the woods to this little pond that was so clear that you could almost see the bottom where the crabs would crawl. We’d spend most of our time creating imaginary worlds and pretending we were in the old wild west or flappers in the 1920s or knights in the renaissance. Those are the memories that outshine the terribles of my childhood,” she smiled as she reminisced, you were leaning the back of your head against the window watching her while listening intently.

Her smile faltered, a sad one replacing it. “When my parents tragically died in a freak accident when we were 10, Pietro and I had to move in with my mother’s parents. Living with them was nice, but they couldn’t handle us so we were shipped off to separate boarding schools. Pietro went to an all-boys one while I attended an all-girls one. Being without him really… sucked. My first few months there were miserable until I met Monica. She became my bestest friend and we still are to this day,” she let out a slight chuckle and you smiled with her.

Wanda glanced at you for a moment as she contemplated her next statement. “She was also my first love,” you raised your eyebrows and bit the insides of your cheeks. Your assumptions from earlier were correct then, but it still hurt to hear it out loud.

“Interesting,” you replied and turned away to look out the window, making Wanda furrow her eyes at your sudden change in demeanor. You knew you had no right in being mad at her, they obviously weren’t together anymore. But you couldn’t hide your slight jealousy, and Wanda thought it was a bit endearing that you cared so much.

“Anyways, so the two of us were together for a few years until we realized it wasn’t meant to be, but we stayed very close friends. My grandparents arranged for me to marry Vision because it would be a good step for our family businesses since his family was a rival to mine, but we went on a few dates before we settled on the engagement. Being married to him was nice at first, and then we had the twins, and then things went downhill from there I suppose,” Wanda shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

You were now feeling guilty for your rude behavior, so you put your hand on her leg to show your sympathy. “Sorry for being rude right there,” you apologized and Wanda assured you that it was okay.

Wanda knew you might be wary of answering her next question, but she figured after spending over twelve hours with you on the road the two of you had grown quite close. You already had ripped out a fart which signified you were already pretty comfortable around her.

“How did you meet Steve?” she pressed her lips together when she felt you tense up against her even though your side was barely touching her.

“We met through a mutual friend and we hit it off pretty well. My friend set us up on a date after seeing us connect so well the first time we met, and then it just blossomed from there. He and I worked well for the first year we were together, the honeymoon phase is what people call it I hear. We were two people madly in love, but he just never matured as time went on. He always expected me to make breakfast or do his laundry out of my love for him,” you explained while pulling at your fingers. You felt fine speaking about him for once, you didn’t feel guilty anymore for breaking up. That was all thanks to Wanda and her assurances.

Wanda nodded in agreement, she knew by how you were that you loved being independent and striving to meet your dreams without anything or anyone weighing you down. Steve was dead weight to you achieving your aspiration of being a photographer. He didn’t even have the decency to get you a good camera.

“Well, I’m glad you broke things off with him because he obviously didn’t know how to treat you right. You are a lovable person, don’t think twice about that,” Wanda gestured for you to come closer to her, so you pressed your side up against hers and relaxed your posture.

Wanda placed her right hand on her lap trying to get you to place yours on top, and you took the hint and inched yours slowly but surely up to it. Wanda smiled when feeling your grip tighten around her hand. You felt safe with her, that you could trust her words. As the car ride went on, you fell asleep, your head resting on Wanda’s shoulder and she didn’t make an attempt to shrug it off. She enjoyed the feeling of you on her.

The next motel was much nicer than the last one, even the workers were much nicer than the bald guy. It was late in the afternoon when the two of you arrived, the both of you starving only having had breakfast in the morning. Once you both had settled, you suggested you go to a nicer restaurant for dinner which Wanda immediately agreed to, both deciding to wear fancy dresses to blend in. The two of you snuck into the fancy five-star hotel across the street and nonchalantly chatted to not draw attention.

The waitress asked for your room number and name, “Maximoff, room 623,” you answered without hesitation and Wanda gave you a knowing look. “Right this way, Mrs. Maximoff,” the waitress gestured and led the two of you to a table with two chairs.

You were in the mood to really satisfy your tastebuds, so you chose to order lobster. Wanda looked at you wide-eyed, but you gave her a cheeky smile with a wink, so she ordered filet mignon. As the two of you waited for the food, the conversation came so easily between the two of you. Effortless.

“You sang very nicely in the shower this morning,” Wanda commented while taking a sip of her red wine. You raised your eyebrows, “I didn’t know you were awake. I would’ve shut up if I had known I was too loud.”

Wanda waved you off, “Oh please, I enjoyed it. It was almost as good as the first time you sang to me.” You blushed, but the wine in your system gave you a newfound sense of confidence that urged you to continue the banter.

“If you liked it so much then why don’t I sing you to sleep tonight?” you suggested seductively with a smirk. Wanda was a bit thrown back that you countered back, but she wasn’t complaining. She liked this side of you.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” she replied with a low tone, biting her lip at the thought.

When the bill came, you told them to place it on the tab and the waitress nodded quickly. Wanda laughed so hard to the point she snorted which caused you to laugh at her. It was a nice moment, one you wish could last forever.

The two of you were buzzed, giggling all the way back to your motel room and it only continued once you were there. Wanda pulled out a bottle of champagne from her bag and popped it open, the cork leaving a small dent on the wall. This caused you to roll on the floor with laughter, you each took swigs straight out of the bottle which only added to your drunken state.

You were both sitting on the floor right next to each other leaning your backs against one of the beds. “Are you going to sing to me now?” Wanda inquired with her champagne bottle pointed at you. “Well if you insist, M'lady,” you replied as you cleared your throat.

The only lyrics you could remember at the moment were the song you had sung to her while playing the piano. This time as you sang, you stared into her enchanting emerald eyes, your gaze never wavering from them so she knew every word was directed at her.

“Everybody loves somebody sometime. And though my dreams were overdue, your love made it all worth waiting for someone like you,” as you finished the song, you noticed Wanda leaning forward, so you did as well. Her lips slightly puckered out and her eyes were closed, so as you neared her, you closed yours and anticipated for the moment your lips were in contact with hers.

Even though you were expecting it, the feeling was completely different than what you had expected. She was the light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel you had been lost in your entire life. You always thought Steve was meant to be it, but no, he wasn’t. You were completely wrong and now you had your answer.

Wanda’s lips were soft but also overwhelmingly persistent at trying to savor every little bit of you. Your hands were gripping her waist, slowly massaging it as her hands rubbed your neck. The alcohol made your actions clumsy and less methodical, it was more about rushing to get to what you had been craving for quite some time.

One of her hands caressed your bare legs and slowly made its way up to your dress. You shuddered, but you wanted more. You tugged her arms to get her up onto the bed, unzipping her dress from behind and allowing it to fall to the ground when you had her stand up.

Your eyes met with Wanda’s hungry eyes as she turned around, she launched at you crashing your lips together once again as if she was a breath of fresh air after drowning at sea for so long. She pulled down the straps of your dress, allowing it to fall as well, both of your chests now bare. The back of her legs felt the bed behind her, and so she allowed herself to lie back onto it.

You climbed on top of her, your legs straddling her torso, and you continued to kiss her lips passionately. You trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck before settling on a point of her neck that caused her to sigh deeply. She guided your hands to feel her chest, and you obeyed, allowing your hands to sensually massage them.

“Please touch me,” she pleaded, letting out another sigh. You trailed your mouth and latched onto her nipple and your tongue circled around them. You allowed your hands to glide on her stomach and down to the band of her underwear, tugging them down. You gave the same attention to her other nipple and Wanda couldn’t hold the moan she was trying so hard to suppress.

Your tongue made her feel like she was jelly, each kiss you gave held so much passion and love that she had been craving from the first time she had spoken to you. The glint in your eyes told her all of the potential you had hidden within you, and now you were expressing it to her.

You continued your kisses down her stomach, her back arching with each one from the sensitivity building up inside of her. You kneeled at the edge of the bed and pulled her towards you by her legs. You kissed her inner thighs up until you were met with her core which was radiating heat. You gave a languid lick on her sensitive center and she tried squeezing her legs together at the feelings, but you forced them apart by putting them over your shoulders.

“I’m not done with you yet,” you retorted with a smirk and Wanda grabbed the sheets into her hands to brace herself for what was going to come next. You latched your mouth onto her clit, giving slow circles with your tongue to tease her. Her moans were soft, but you knew she wanted more, so you then slipped one finger inside of her causing her to gasp.

You pumped your finger in and out slowly while continuing to lick her clit, and the feeling was becoming all too much for Wanda, but you persisted. You felt her grinding her hip to create more friction and her hands were pushing the back of your head into her more. You added in a second finger making Wanda whimper, but she hadn’t asked you to stop yet.

You felt her walls clenching against your fingers, so you went faster. She cursed obscenities which only motivated you more, you curled your fingers making Wanda let out one last moan originating from her gut. You slowed down and took your fingers out of her, licking up the juices she released making sure not to add to her sensitivity.

Her legs were shaking and you knew she was exhausted already from the car ride. You crawled up onto the bed next to her and she cuddled up to you, her head tucked into the crook of your neck. She leaned in and kissed you, tasting herself in your mouth. “All I asked was for you to sing to me, but you really outdid yourself with that,” she whispered against your lips.

“Maybe I just wanted to listen to you sing to me,” you chuckled as you pecked her lips and pulled the sheets over the two of you. Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, “Hey we’re not sleeping yet, I still haven’t gotten my turn with you.”

She seductively bit her lip as she threw the sheets off of you and straddled you. “I’m not gonna stop you,” you smirked and she leaned down and kissed your neck, not even attempting to stop the sigh that escaped your lips. You knew this was going to be one long night that you were going to never forget.

When the two of you woke up in each other’s arms, you dreaded getting up, you just wanted to lie in that position forever, but it was time to hit the road again. You freshened up in the bathroom while Wanda said she was going to go check out in the lobby.

“Mrs. Maximoff, right?” the woman behind the counter confirmed. Wanda nodded her head and the lady gave an envelope with her name written on it. “It came by this morning for you,” she explained and Wanda frowned as she tore it open.

Wanda’s heart dropped, letting out an audible gasp as she marched her way to the car where you were putting in the last of your things. You saw Wanda’s face and you furrowed your eyebrows at her. “Wanda? What’s wrong?” you questioned, but she was completely frantic at the moment.

“Where’s my suitcase? Where’s my fucking suitcase?” Wanda kept shouting as she dug through the trunk. She found it and pulled out a revolver and your heart literally stopped. “Wanda, you’re scaring me,” you said, but she continued to march over to the room that was right next to yours from the night before it and slammed it open. You trailed behind her.

That’s when you saw Loki standing in his sleepwear with a set up of cameras and audio recorders located right at the shared wall with your room. Wanda was furious and pointed the gun at him. “Where is the tape?” she demanded and Loki gulped the frog in his throat.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda #fanfic #marvel #avengers #wandavision

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Go the Distance

Prompt: Hello, I absolutely adore your work 🥺😍🥺 your Sanders Sides angst is just so goooood!!! If you're up to it, I'd love to request a fic <3 Virgil has noticed [side(s?) of your choice; they're all good choices, I can't decide ;-;] has been distant and avoiding him and he just can't figure out what he did wrong but it's actually because [side] loves him and are trying to take some time to 'get rid of/push down their feelings' The angster the better but don't push yourself ^ Feel free to add or change whatever Have a great day and no worries if you don't do this 💜💜💜~@im-an-anxious-wreck 💜🖤

Thanks for the prompt babe you’re the best

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, some lite™ angst

Pairings: prinxiety, background platonic dlampr because found family dynamics motherfuckers

Word Count: 4191

Virgil and Roman's relationship hasn't always been, well, great. But it's been getting better!

Or, at least, it was.

Listen, Virgil knows he and Roman haven’t exactly had the most…painless history. Virgil’s introduction to the series was Thomas telling Roman his dream was to get rid of him and, well, Roman was first and foremost loyal to Thomas. Then the whole…insult thing, ducking out, and the absolute mess of the callback wedding debacle, it’s not exactly been smooth sailing.

But—okay, and maybe they’d been a little harsher about things than absolutely necessary, and maybe Roman got hit with the consequences of their fights more than Virgil, and maybe Virgil hadn’t exactly been…overwhelmingly accepting of all of Princey’s little ticks.

But they’d still been talking!

After the wedding, no one was on good terms with anyone save Patton and Janus—and wasn’t that the shock of a lifetime—and Remus and Virgil. Because they made the smart choice and decided ‘nope, fuck that, I’m out.’

It was a good choice. You have any idea how high their scores are in GTFO now? The first rundown’s a fucking cakewalk.

Anyway.

They’d been talking! Virgil still doesn’t know exactly what happened right after—he saw the video, of course he saw the video, but Roman sunk right to his room and there’s a good twelve hours between that and the next time Virgil saw him—but Roman had come out and approached him!

Probably because he was still hurt by the end of the video—which oof, Virgil does not blame him for, that was harsh—and his only options were Logan, Virgil, and Remus and Logan, um, didn’t want to see anyone for a while and Remus is Remus.

Side note: those two have been getting on better. Something about their twin Creativity thing meant Remus knew that Roman was hurting bad before even Thomas did.

But Roman did seek him out, asking him quietly if he had a moment, just a moment, to sit together. Virgil had shrugged and passed it off as nothing only for Princey to literally sit on the floor and not make a fucking noise. He’d frowned and poked his shoulder, asking if he was alright.

“Perfectly fine, Dark and Stormy,” Roman had said lightly, “and I’ll leave you in a moment.”

“But you’re…” Virgil had waved to his silent form. “…not acting like you normally do.”

Roman had laughed. “And here I thought I’d never hear you say you missed me being loud.”

“Now let’s not jump to conclusions.”

Sure enough, a few more seconds had passed and Roman had gotten up, quietly bid Virgil good day, thanked him, and left.

You bet your ass Virgil sunk straight into Patton’s room to ask hey what the fuck did you do to Roman.

Patton had sighed and said that they’re not sure what to do now—‘they’ being Janus and Patton. Virgil, still recovering from the whiplash of those two being close had shaken his head and told them to get it the fuck together.

If he sunk into Remus’s room to ask how to take care of Roman, that’s his business. It’s also his business if he tackled Princey in a hug two minutes later.

So. Talking.

Roman, for all he talks, doesn’t really say much. The few things he does say are easily passed off as jokes, off-handed comments that no one really pays much attention to.

Not that anyone pays nearly enough attention to Roman, come on, guys, he makes it easy.

But Roman talked to Virgil. He’d come in and sit and Virgil would sit next to him, trying to make sure his arm didn’t burst into flames from where it was pressed against Princey—the dude’s a fucking space heater, okay?—just to listen. Some of the time it was Disney rants—okay, most of the time it was Disney rants—but some of the time…

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

Roman looked down at his costume. Today was repair day, unofficially called when Virgil’s hoodie ripped during the night and Roman’s sword cut through his sleeve. Virgil looked up from his own mass of fabric, needle stuck in carefully so he wouldn’t prick himself. He frowned at the look on Roman’s face.

“What’s up, Princey?”

“Do you think my logo looks bad?”

Virgil blinked in shock. Roman didn’t look up and see the surprise on his face, instead running his thumb slowly over the patch on the costume.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Princey?”

“It’s so complicated,” Roman said, still looking down, “Logan and Patton have really simple ones. You have a pretty simple one.”

“Janus doesn’t. Remus doesn’t.”

“Yeah, but they’re…”

Virgil frowned deeper, putting his hoodie on the ground and shifting closer to Roman. The prince didn’t even look up, still clutching his logo in his hands.

“They’re what, Roman?”

Roman swallowed. “…allowed.”

A growl sounded from Virgil’s throat before he knew what was happening.

“And you’re not?”

“Hmm?”

“And you’re not allowed, Roman?” Virgil gripped his shoulder. “Look at me, Princey.”

Roman looked up. Virgil swallowed another growl at the despondent look on the prince’s face. Instead, he gripped Roman’s shoulder tighter.

“No one,” he said firmly, “is allowed to tell you your logo is bad. You hear me?”

Roman blinked.

“I mean it, Roman,” he said, softening his voice a little, “it’s you. It’s yours, no one’s allowed to tell you it’s wrong.”

“So that’s…okay?”

“Yeah, Princey, it’s okay.”

“Oh.” Roman looked back down at his costume. “Okay. Thank you, Virgil.”

“Anytime.”

Virgil would come to be astounded at how much he means that.

Because, really, now that Roman’s talking? Virgil’s fucking shocked that they didn’t realize how much Roman actually has to offer.

First off, Princey’s smart as hell. Sure, L’s the resident braincell but you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.

If Logan tries to tell you he’s not a dumbass sometimes he is wrong.

Roman can puzzle solve with the best of them. Do you have any idea how much brainpower it takes to write a story? A script? Understand how all those moving parts fit together and make sense as a whole? Virgil sure as hell didn’t. He spent one afternoon trying to help Roman only for it to end up as Roman explaining what he was doing and Virgil frantically trying to keep up. Don’t even get him started on how impressive the Imagination stuff is.

“It’s my job, Fall Out Brood,” Roman laughs every single time Virgil expresses how fucking cool this is, “have to be good at something.”

And Roman is. He’s good.

Second: Patton may be the heart, Logan may be the brains, but no one is as good at reassuring him as Roman. Probably has something to do with the Creativity gig. Roman had asked, politely, if Virgil would be comfortable telling him what to do when he gets really anxious, whether to leave him alone, get him somewhere safe, get him things, what have you. Virgil had told him, bemused, only to be shuttled into somewhere that screamed safewarmcomfortableeverythingisokay the next time he had a panic attack. Roman, with the lack of shame truly becoming of a theatre kid, had no problems cheering him up by loudly declaring he would fight whatever shadowy figures plagued his little nightmare, swatting at the air with his sword until Virgil’s sobs had turned into giggles. He never made Virgil talk about anything if he didn’t want to, didn’t try to sit and work through things if they weren’t ready, and never touched him unless he’d gotten the okay. The first time Virgil told him he’d be fine with receiving hugs in the aftermath was the warmest he’d felt in years.

Princey gives really good hugs.

Third: Roman’s fucking funny.

Remember the whole ‘smart as hell’ thing? Know how Logan’s funny as fuck too when he lets himself be?

Virgil’s lost count of how many times he’s had to gasp out for Roman to shut the fuck up because his sides hurt too much from laughing. He ends up sprawled across the fucking floor or the couch or Princey’s bed, dying very happily but painfully because Roman won’t stop making him laugh.

Most of the time it’s due to something they’re watching and Roman’ll notice some detail that he picks apart until they’re both howling or Virgil will make one sarcastic comment that turns into a full fucking bit for like…ten minutes. Roman will just keep riffing off of the smallest thing until he’s laughing too hard to keep going—not very likely—or Virgil will flail out desperately and smack him—much more likely.

Princey said he makes fun of the things he loves.

…maybe that’s why he doesn’t make fun of Virgil anymore.

Virgil curls tighter around the pillow, clutching it to his chest. As he rubs his cheek against it, he grimaces. It’s too rough. It’s not warm enough. It doesn’t smell right.

They’d been talking. It had been good.

But that was before.

Before Roman had cautiously approached Logan with an apology, the offering of a new planner for him, the promise to listen to him, hear him out, give him space to speak. Logan had accepted.

Before Roman had opened the border between his and Remus’s side of the Imagination, sending a little puppy scuttling over to his brother’s castle with a note, a dagger, and a vial of acid. It returned as a kitten with a beautifully poisonous rose.

Before Roman had finally, finally, after days of trying, opened the door when Patton knocked, letting him come inside so they could talk, about everything that happened since…well, ever. They hadn’t stopped hugging long enough to walk down the stairs.

Before Roman had let Janus, Janus, take care of him.

And now…

Now Roman didn’t want to be in the same room as him.

It feels as if they’re walking on eggshells around each other again, Virgil appearing in a room only for Roman to completely disappear, getting up and leaving a conversation entirely just to avoid him, Virgil knocking on Roman’s door only for Roman to shout that he’s busy, not to come inside, Virgil, trying, trying to figure out where Roman’s gone, what’s happened, only to receive the cold shoulder.

A problem none of the other Sides seemed to be having.

He clutches the pillow to his chest.

Did he—did he do something wrong?

Does Roman—does Roman not like him anymore?

Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed so hard about talking to the others. Roman needed space, needed time, he didn’t need someone else breathing down his neck. He should’ve let Roman set the pace, listened more, been kinder to him when he needed reassurance.

Maybe he shouldn’t have made Roman think it was his fault that the others were taking so long, or suggested that if he wanted things to get better he should try talking first. Roman had been taught by everyone else that things were his fault already, Virgil didn’t need to jump on that train too.

Maybe he should’ve been kinder to Roman, less focused on making the others understand that they hurt Roman. Everyone in the Mindscape knew that Roman was hurt, Virgil should’ve helped fix that, taken care of Roman, not pushed the blame onto everyone else.

Maybe Roman didn’t like what he had to say about Disney films. They were Roman’s comfort watches, the last thing he needed was for someone to cruelly rip away his enjoyment of one of the few things he could enjoy.

Maybe Roman didn’t like Virgil’s way of taking care of him. Virgil never pushed, never did Roman the courtesy of asking, like Roman did with him, just assumed he knew best how to comfort someone and left it there. Roman might’ve needed more hugs, more time, less distraction, just something other than what Virgil gave him.

Maybe Roman didn’t like how much Virgil ended up hoarding him to himself. Not letting him go to the others for comfort, just to work things out. Maybe he thought Virgil was just keeping him upset so he could hang out with him more.

Or maybe…

Virgil muffles his sob in the pillow.

Maybe Roman needed or wanted him anyway.

Maybe Roman was just waiting until he could get the comfort he actually wanted. Maybe he waited until the others were easier to talk to so he could go back to what he really needed. Maybe Virgil was just a placeholder until Roman could get hugs from Patton and Remus, talk with Logan and Janus, not him. Never him.

Maybe that’s…okay.

It’s not, it won’t be fucking okay for a long time, but one day, it will be okay.

Virgil curses and throttles the pillow in his arms, wishing for it to be real, to be warm, to be a chest of white and gold and a splash of red, for it to wraps its arms around him and say it’s okay, shadow-ling, I’m here, I won’t leave you, shh.

But it’s just a pillow.

Has his room always been this cold?

Have Disney movies always looked this flat?

Has music always sounded this gray?

Has Virgil always been this alone?

He can hear them in the living room below him. He can hear Roman and Logan throwing quips back and forth, can hear Remus tackling his brother into the wall, and Roman protesting. He can hear Janus scolding Remus and checking to make sure Roman’s not injured, can hear Roman wave him off gently and go right back to verbally sparring with Logan. He can hear Patton laughing too hard, falling off the couch and begging the two of them to let up, let him breathe, can hear Roman coo and call him sweet, adorable, in that soft voice he only uses when he’s talking to someone he cares about.

Can’t hear any of them worrying about where he is.

Maybe it’s better this way.

He got greedy, took too much of what was never his to take, what wasn’t given to him freely. He latched onto the first thing he thought was for him and didn’t stop to think that it wasn’t. He may think he’s been included in the famILY but he knows he’s still an outsider.

He may be Virgil now but deep down he’ll always be Anxiety.

So here he will stay, in the cold of his room, in the dark of his face smushed into a pillow that will never be real. He will stay and he will be happy.

But not today.

He sniffles and smears his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, not bothering to pull away from the pillow long enough to wipe tears properly. His limbs start to protest as he hugs it tighter, tighter, tighter, but it’s no use. He can feel his own arms through the pillow. There isn’t enough—there’s too much give in the pillow. It’s just a fucking pillow but it’s not enough.

Another laugh from downstairs and Virgil growls, burying his head in the pillow until he can’t hear himself think.

Can’t hear anything but his own muffled sobs ringing in his ears.

Can’t hear anything other than the thought swirling around and around his head that he’ll never be enough, that he’ll never be wanted, that he’ll never be anything other than Anxiety.

Can’t hear the soft knock at the door.

“Virgil?”

The voices in his head must be getting pretty powerful because he’s certain he can hear Roman calling for him. He buries deeper in the pillow.

“Virgil? Virgil, can you hear me?”

Yes, he thinks, yes, I can hear you, which means I’m not crying hard enough.

“Can I come in, shadow-ling?”

Yes, he thinks, come in and make me forget that you don’t need me anymore.

He must really be losing it because he thinks he can hear the door open and close again with a soft click, followed by a sharp intake of breath and a soft coo.

“Oh, shadow-ling,” the imaginary Roman murmurs, “come here, little Stormcloud.”

Oh, his imagination is being cruel to him right now because the sensation of warm arms around his waist and shoulders fucking burns. He buries his face in the pillow until he can’t tell which way is up anymore, not sure how he’s tricked himself into imagining Roman’s cradling him but too unwilling to let the illusion go.

“That’s right, Stormcloud, relax for me, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh, you’re alright,” the imaginary Roman keeps whispering in that cruelly soft voice, “you’re doing great, shadow-ling.”

Virgil wants him to be real. So bad he aches from it. But he knows he’s not.

What happens next breaks his fucking heart.

The imaginary Roman kisses him.

It’s chaste, a barely-there brush of his lips against his forehead but it tears a whine out of Virgil’s throat before he can stop it. The imaginary Roman hushes him gently, pressing another kiss to the part of his cheek not buried in the pillow and it taunts him with how real it feels. The slightly chapped lips, the warm rush of air as Roman breathes, the light brush of his nose as he pulls away.

It’s too much.

It’s too much and he wants it to be real so badly but he knows the instant he pulls away it will vanish and that might just break him.

Then he realizes the imaginary Roman is talking to him.

“Breathe, Stormcloud, you’ve got to breathe,” he coaxes, “I know it’s tempting to stay buried in a pillow all day, but you can’t breathe properly like that, sweetheart.”

No, no, don’t call me sweetheart, I’ll break.

“Shadow-ling, Stormcloud, my darling,” the imaginary Roman says instead, “come on…”

Well, now he’s disappointing imaginary Roman too. Figures. He can’t do anything right.

“Of course you can,” the imaginary Roman pleads, “just breathe for me, shadow-ling, I’m right here, I’ve got you, you can keep your eyes closed if you need to, just breathe.”

Another whine. Another kiss pressed against his head. The whine grows louder.

“Shh, shh, my darling,” imaginary Roman murmurs, “breathe, come on, just—trust me, okay? Can I ask that of you, Stormcloud?”

And goddamnit, this is why Virgil can’t do anything.

Virgil trusts him.

So he prepares himself for heartbreak and lifts his head.

“Thank you, shadow-ling,” imaginary Roman—wait, he’s still here?—murmurs, rubbing his back, “there you go, now just breathe—oh! Oh, come here, lean on me, I’ve got you.”

Having listed to the side horribly, Virgil lands against a solidwarmsafereal chest and—and—

“R-Roman?”

“Yes, my darling,” not imaginary Roman says, still kissing Virgil’s forehead, “I’m here, I’m here.”

White-hot rage burns Virgil’s tears.

He lets out a yell and shoves, not caring that it throws them both horribly off-balance, threatening to send him tumbling to the floor. He hears Roman cry out, trying to keep ahold of him, but he scrabbles and gets his hands around the bedpost and pulls.

“Virgil—Virgil stop, you’re going to hurt yourself—“

“Why do you care?” The rage coats his tongue. “You fucking left, you—you—you fucking didn’t care about me anymore, you decided you didn’t want me anymore and you fucking left so don’t try and care now!”

“Virgil—sweetheart, I—“

“Don’t fucking call me that!” He keeps his eyes squeezed tight. “You didn’t give a fuck about me when you left, when you got your fucking family back, you think—you think you can just waltz back in like you didn’t abandon me?”

“Virgil—“

“Because you did, Roman!” Virgil blindly shoves at where the prince was before, knocking him into the wall. “You fucking left me as soon as you got the others back like I—like I never did anything for you and now you—now you can’t even look at me.”

“I’m looking at you now.”

Virgil laughs.

He throws his head back and howls until his chest and throat ache.

“You didn’t give a shit when the others started talking to you. You just fucking up and abandoned me like you never cared about me in the first place. You replaced me with them or—or abandoned me as your placeholder and I’m fucking hurt, Roman.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Silence.

Virgil’s heart stops.

No.

No, no, no, no—

He fucked up.

He fucked up so bad.

Roman left.

Roman’s not here anymore.

Roman left again, he made Roman leave, he—he fucked up so bad, he shouldn’t have yelled, he’s fucked up, he hurt Roman, no, no, no, no—

On instinct, his hands hook into claws.

Only to be caught by warmsolidreal hands and brought to something soft.

“Don’t,” comes Roman’s softsaferealhurt voice, murmuring in his ear as he holds him still, “don’t scratch, sweetheart.”

“Don’t—“

“I know, I know,” Roman says immediately, “you said not to call you that. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

…what?

“I didn’t realize I was hurting you,” comes the voice again, “that’s no excuse, I know, but please, Virgil, I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to abandon you.”

Virgil swallows. “What the fuck do you call it then?”

“I didn’t want to push my luck.”

What?

“You were being so good to me, Virgil,” Roman murmurs, oblivious to the internal struggle Virgil’s currently facing, “so kind, so supportive, that I…I realized I wanted to ask more from you. Things I had no business asking. And the longer you kept on being you, the harder it was to resist the urge to push and risk shattering everything you’d let me build with you.”

“What—“ Virgil swallows— “what the fuck did you want?”

Roman stills in front of him. With his eyes still shut, he can’t tell what’s going on, but when Roman speaks next his voice is hoarse.

“Before I ask,” comes the whisper, “I want you to know that you have every right to say no. You can push me away, shove me out of your room, stay angry at me for as long as you want. I’ve hurt you, badly, and I have no right to ask this of you. I want you to know that. That I’m okay with you asserting that right.”

Fuck, Princey.

“…what do you want?”

A pause. Then a soft rush of air, right on his face.

“May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“R-Roman?”

“That’s it,” Roman murmurs and oh, his mouth is right next to Virgil’s, “that’s what I want, shadow-ling.”

He shifts a little until Virgil can feel Roman’s warmth.

“That and everything that goes with it.”

“Why—why did you leave? I-if that’s what you wanted?”

“Because that would mean to push,” Roman says immediately, “and the last thing I wanted was to push you away. I thought if I could…rein it in, control it, I could…I wouldn’t hurt you.”

A soft chuckle.

“Look how well that turned out.”

“But the others—“

“I needed Remus to tell me what was going on,” Roman says wryly, “Janus to point out that I was okay in wanting something, Patton to help me figure it out, and Logan to kick my ass into doing it.”

“To…to ask me?”

“Yes, Stormcloud,” comes the whisper, “to ask you.”

“And if I say yes?”

He can feel Roman’s lips turn up.

“…then I’ll kiss you, Stormcloud.”

“Are you really here?”

The question bursts out of him before he can stop it, immediately biting his lip in reprimand for letting it.

“Open your eyes, Virgil,” Roman says softly, “look at me.”

He shakes his head, not wanting it to be imaginary. Not now, not after this. Roman squeezes his hands.

“Look at me, Stormcloud,” he whispers, “look at me.”

Fuck it.

Roman smiles at him, real and warm and soft and here. He squeezes Virgil’s hands again and takes the smallest step closer.

“I’m here,” he says, wrapping Virgil’s arms around his neck, “I’m right here, shadow-ling.”

He’s here.

This won’t fix everything. But it’s one hell of a start.

“Ask me again.”

“May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Not like that. Ask me properly.”

Confusion dances on Roman’s face before realization hits. His smile widens and he brings a hand to Virgil’s head. Virgil clutches Roman tight as he gets dipped into the prince’s arms. Roman leans forward until his mouth almost catches Virgil’s.

“May I kiss you, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

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fearlessinger · 3 years ago

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So, a little less than a month year ago (this is all my fault, I take sole responsibility for this loooong delay), I got roped into reading The Trials Of Apollo by @flightfoot’s amazing meta. I loved it more than I could have ever anticipated, and I’ve been gushing about it non stop to her on discord. We had a lot of fun reviewing the series and taking it apart to overanalyze bit by bit, marveling at the way it keeps growing layers and dimensions the longer one looks at it. Finally, we took out a google doc. The following is result n.3 of our combined excited ramblings, and… well it sort of turned into a full on dissertation. Whoops.

“You must make your own choice.”

Reconstructing Apollo’s Journey within Riordan’s Narrative

Much too self aware to be egotistical

Not the kind of feelings that gods have

You have heard of imposter syndrome?

As if you could have immortality or meaning, but not both

The sun’s indifference

Art thou sure that is thy wish? (read on ao3)

Finally, Apollo stops lying to our faces every other paragraph about what he really thinks and feels. He stops wasting time and energy pretending that he doesn't mean, that he doesn't want to do the right thing. That he doesn’t care about everything and everybody. He's done being ashamed of it. He won’t hide from who he is anymore.

It should be a liberating choice, but it doesn’t feel like it. Far from it. Now that he doesn’t let himself cower behind his lies any longer, now that he refuses to flinch away from reality and take refuge in the imaginary stage play he’d gotten so comfortable writing and acting out inside his own head, he can see with agonizingly perfect clarity how much he'd screwed up. How much time he's wasted. How much blood is on his hands.

There was no climbing cage going to the second level – just bare metal rungs against the side of the girder, as if the builders had decided, Welp, if you made it this far, you must be crazy, so no more safety features! Now that the metal-ribbed chute was gone, I realized it had given me some psychological comfort. At least I could pretend I was inside a safe structure, not free-climbing a giant tower like a lunatic. (TTT 247)

The guilt he felt before was nothing compared to the guilt he feels now without the buffer of pretense. As hollow as it was, he misses the comfort that his safety cage had given him. But the only way to make the climb was to leave it behind.

Oh, Jason Grace … I promised you I would remember what it was to be human. But why did human shame have to hurt so much? Why wasn’t there an off button? (TTT 134)

Apollo did many bad things in his long life. Some of them, many of them, he did because he was backed into a corner. Because he had no choice, or because he’d been made to believe that he didn’t, and accepted that that was the truth. But he can’t, he won’t let himself acknowledge it, not even now that he’s finally allowing himself to put the right name to what he’s experienced at his father’s hands.

He is not like Meg. He is not a child. He is responsible for his own choices. He should have known better. He should have tried harder. He will have to keep trying, somehow, whatever it takes, no matter how hopeless it seems, once he’s back with the rest of the gods, back within the fold of the little abusive cult that he calls family, high above the top of the Empire State Building, because unlike Meg, he’s never getting free.

He keeps insisting that human shame is different, because he needs to believe that when the time comes he won’t jump at the chance to turn it off, shut it down, bury it in the sand and never look back, just like he’d done with the godly one, which is exactly the same.

Have you ever had an experience so painful or embarrassing you literally forgot it happened? Your mind dissociates, scuttles away from the incident yelling Nope, nope, nope, and refuses to acknowledge the memory ever again? (TTT 43)

He’d done it to survive. But that’s no excuse. Deep down, Apollo has always believed this. He has to find a way to do better anyway. He has no guarantee that he will. He doesn’t have anything but his desperate, stubborn resolve to keep his promise to Jason, to himself, to everybody.

I will be Apollo. I will remember.

When had I last felt ‘whole’? I wanted to believe it was back when I was a god, but that wasn’t true. I hadn’t been completely myself for centuries. Maybe millennia. (TTT 316)

The problem with getting used to lying all the time is not that you end up forgetting what the truth is. You don’t. Not unless you want to. And Apollo could never truly bring himself to want to. No, the problem with getting used to lying all the time is that, after a while, the lies start to feel more real than the truth itself.

Apollo knows who he is, but he has not allowed himself to be that person in a really, really long time. So long, that he isn’t quite sure how to do it anymore.

But he can’t afford to wait to figure it out until after the crisis has passed. The hourglass is running out of sand.

Lupa stood before the altar. Mist shrouded her fur as if she were off-gassing quicksilver.

It is your time, she told me.

[...]

‘My time,’ I said. ‘For what, exactly?’

She nipped the air in annoyance. To be Apollo. The pack needs you.

I wanted to scream, I’ve been trying to be Apollo! It’s not that easy! (TTT 95)

“Continue to act strong,” Lupa tells him. Apollo understands. Her advice makes sense to him. “Half the trick to being a god,” he had told Meg their first morning together at Camp Half Blood, “is knowing how to bluff.”

He can do that. He’s been doing it this whole time. So maybe he just needs to switch his old act for a new one. The vapid, selfish, privileged brat for the reformed ex villain seeking redemption. The latter feels more right. It definitely feels closer to the truth, and to the end goal, than his previous routine.

The problem is, ultimately, it’s still an act.

‘Did you just use the term skedaddleth?’

I TRY TO SPEAK PLAINLY TO THEE, TO GRANT THEE A BOON, AND STILL THOU COMPLAINEST.

‘I appreciate a good boon as much as the next person. But, if I’m going to contribute to this quest and not just cower in the corner, I need to know how –’ my voice cracked – ‘how to be me again.’

The vibration of the arrow felt almost like a cat purring, trying to soothe an ill human. ART THOU SURE THAT IS THY WISH?

‘What do you mean?’ I demanded. ‘That’s the whole point! Everything I’m doing is so –’ (TTT 138)

Apollo has spent so long trying to be someone other than himself, there’s almost no one left who truly knows him anymore. The characters he played are all that most of the people around him have ever known.

And he doesn’t get to correct their assumptions. He doesn’t get to make his case to the arrow. How would that even go? You see, I’m not actually an asshole, I just pretended to be! I swear I didn’t mean it!

Nobody wants to hear that. To anyone who’s ever had the misfortune of having to put up with it, the two looked exactly the same.

And, contrary to popular belief that he himself had carefully planted and cultivated, Apollo can read a room.

I began to speak, the Latin ritual verses pouring out of me. I chanted from instinct, barely aware of the words’ meanings. I had already praised Jason with my song. That had been deeply personal. This was just a necessary formality.

In some corner of my mind, I wondered if this was how mortals felt when they used to pray to me. Perhaps their devotions had been nothing but muscle memory, reciting by rote while their minds drifted elsewhere, uninterested in my glory. I found the idea strangely … understandable. Now that I was a mortal, why should I not practise non-violent resistance against the gods, too? (TTT 91-92)

The Romans still pray to the gods. They still prayed to Apollo too. And yet, none of them really has any idea who Apollo is. Most of them never cared to know either. Why would they? Gods aren’t people. Gods aren’t friends. They are beautiful golden idols to appease. They might grant someone a wish, sometimes, if that wish is something they already wanted to make happen anyway. They don’t actually care about anything but themselves.

And Apollo was just like the rest of them.

It doesn’t matter that his indifference was always fake. From a distance, it looked real. From a distance, it looked the same as that of any of the other gods. And Apollo was oh so very careful, at all times, to keep his distance.

He still is.

He calls Zeus his abuser, but he only does it in the privacy of his own head, and in the pages of these books that won’t be read by any of the people who could actually give him sympathy and support.

Gods aren’t supposed to need sympathy. They aren’t supposed to need support. They aren’t supposed to be helpless.

Apollo feels safe in telling us, because we can’t do anything, we can’t offer anything to him other than a listening ear.

But even to us Apollo doesn’t explain, because the truth is Apollo doesn’t WANT to explain. It’s incredibly hard for him, still, to admit that he was never as in control of his own life and choices as he liked to think and pretend he was.

This, too, is who Apollo is. He believes that he had no right to be a victim.

So, even as he admits it, he won’t let himself acknowledge how that shaped every single one of his choices, of his thoughts, of his beliefs even.

He will take all the responsibility, because he can’t admit that, even at his most powerful, he was always powerless.

He can’t let go of the illusion of control, not so much for the sake of his own pride and dignity – if there’s one thing that’s been made entirely clear by Apollo’s narration at this point, it’s that he really doesn’t care anymore about making himself look good – but because he’s still desperately grasping for some proof, any proof, that he truly can do better, and that he truly will be able, this time, to make a difference, that he will be able to avoid repeating his mistakes, even though the circumstances and the people that taught and helped and pushed him to make them will always be there.

To admit that he was always powerless would mean admitting that at the end of these trials, even if he succeeds, especially if he succeeds, he will be powerless again. And that is unacceptable.

So no, It doesn’t feel good to be Apollo. It doesn’t feel liberating. It still feels like shit.

‘I can’t believe I used to think –’

‘That I was your father? But we look so much alike.’

He laughed. ‘Just take care of yourself, okay? I don’t think I could handle a world with no Apollo in it.’

His tone was so genuine it made me tear up. I’d started to accept that no one wanted Apollo back – not my fellow gods, not the demigods, perhaps not even my talking arrow. Yet Frank Zhang still believed in me.

Before I could do anything embarrassing – like hug him, or cry, or start believing I was a worthwhile individual – I spotted my three quest partners trudging towards us. (TTT 142)

Apollo knows who he is. As much as he still pretends otherwise, he has no illusions about it. He’s exactly the sort of person that he strived so hard to become. He is someone nobody would miss, except maybe Frank Zhang, who, like Apollo’s children, like all of the people Apollo is ever so grateful, ever so surprised to be able to call friends, is too kind for his own good.

He’s the worst of the gods, and a rather terrible human being too. Too vain and insecure to stop caring what people think of him. Too much of a selfish coward to make peace with the finality of death, and with it, the possibility that he won’t get another chance to remedy his failings. Entitled enough that he still, despite everything, thinks he has a right to hold into his hands the power to make a difference, and arrogant enough that he still, despite everything, wants to believe that he can.

Are you sure, the arrow asked him. But what other choice does he have?

No one else who has the power to do so will lift a finger to stop the emperors. No one else who has the power to do it will wrestle the future out of Python’s jaws.

So it has to be Apollo, just like the first time.

He will have to take responsibility for all of it, because someone has to, and no one else will.

And when he succeeds, IF he succeeds, he’ll have to go back to his comfortable golden prison in the sky, and try to remember what it was like to be a person rather than a god, hold onto those memories even after everybody else who’s been witness to his struggle will be long gone.

I dreamed of homes. Had I ever really had one?

Delos was my birthplace, but only because my pregnant mother, Leto, took refuge there to escape Hera’s wrath. The island served as an emergency sanctuary for my sister and me, too, but it never felt like home any more than the back seat of a taxi would feel like home to a child born on the way to a hospital.

Mount Olympus? I had a palace there. I visited for the holidays. But it always felt more like the place my dad lived with my stepmom.

The Palace of the Sun? That was Helios’s old crib. I’d just redecorated.

Even Delphi, home of my greatest Oracle, had originally been the lair of Python. Try as you might, you can never get the smell of old snakeskin out of a volcanic cavern.

Sad to say, in my four-thousand-plus years, the times I’d felt most at home had all happened during the past few months: at Camp Half-Blood, sharing a cabin with my demigod children; at the Waystation with Emma, Jo, Georgina, Leo and Calypso, all of us sitting around the kitchen table chopping vegetables from the garden for dinner; at the Cistern in Palm Springs with Meg, Grover, Mellie, Coach Hedge and a prickly assortment of cactus dryads; and now at Camp Jupiter, where the anxious, grief-stricken Romans, despite their many problems, despite the fact that I brought misery and disaster wherever I went, had welcomed me with respect, a room above their coffee shop and some lovely bed linen to wear.

These places were homes. Whether I deserved to be part of them or not – that was a different question. (TTT 171-172)

Everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone deserves to feel loved. Everyone deserves to be recognized. Everyone deserves a home. Everyone, Apollo keeps telling us, keeps confirming with his actions, with his choices, because he really does believe it. Everyone. Except him.

In his golden prison above the clouds, Apollo has been taught that gods shouldn’t want, that gods shouldn’t need any of these things. Gods aren’t people. Gods are not like the rest of us. When Apollo said this, back at the beginning of this journey, it just felt like hilariously misplaced haughtiness. It’s much easier now, 4 books later, with the curtain of lies finally out of the way, to recognize in the familiar rhetoric the common refrain of abuse victims. Good people deserve good things. Normal people deserve good things. Even bad people deserve a second chance. But not me. Never me.

Apollo has a lot to feel guilty about. But he doesn’t stop at that. He feels guilty for things that he had no control over and objectively bears no blame for. He feels guilty for things that quite frankly aren’t a big enough deal to warrant any assignment of blame. He feels guilty for things that weren’t bad at all and he should maybe, actually, rather take pride in.

In his golden prison above the clouds, he’s been taught to feel responsible for everything.

And he does. He spends the first half of book 4 beating himself up for all that is wrong with the world, his guilt threatening to consume him both metaphorically and quite literally, taking the form of the poison inexorably spreading through his body that he, unlike every other mortal human in the city and at camp, in defiance of all of Pranjal’s medical experience, inexplicably can’t manage to fight off.

Gods are powered by belief, and a god’s belief can quite literally shape reality. For a god, intent is action. For a god, wanting to do something might as well be the same as having already done it. Apollo doesn’t want to die. And he doesn’t. But now that he finally looks at himself again without the filter of pretense before his eyes, he finds it incredibly hard to still believe that he shouldn’t.

“YOUR FAULT,” Zeus thunders in his memories, the only thing Apollo remembers of the six months that preceded his fall. “YOUR PUNISHMENT.” That’s why Apollo is here. To do penance for the sins of them all. And as much as he tried to protest it, it does make a perverse sort of sense to him. Deep down, there’s a part of him, still, that believes he deserves it.

It’s not your fault, Apollo tells Meg. The two of them are very much alike. He understands her. He has no trouble figuring out that she blames herself for his condition.

He has a lot more trouble, still, 4 books in, to imagine that she might actually care for him enough to be afraid of losing him, even as the obvious truth is staring him in the face.

It’s because of all the time we spent together, he rationalizes, equating himself to the little peach demon who’s been the only other semi constant presence in Meg’s life as of late in seeming complete earnestness, by all measures sounding like he’s genuinely unable to grasp the absurdity of such a comparison.

Like many people who have grown up in abusive households, Apollo is starved for love, and like many of his fellow abuse victims, he sees love as a transactional affair. He doesn’t really believe he can have anyone’s love for free. He keeps being caught off guard, feeling ashamed every time someone shows him even just a modicum of compassion. He allows himself to pursue physical intimacy, but friendship? Companionship? Understanding? No, those are off limits. There’s no way he can pay the price of them.

He was shocked that Will and Kayla and Austin would be so kind and welcoming to him when he was a powerless, puny mortal. He struggled to accept their acceptance, their eagerness to help him. Why would they waste their love on him when he clearly had nothing more to give them in exchange for it? “A father”, he’d thought, “should give more to his children than he takes”.

He thinks about Artemis now, about the way he used to call her his baby sister, “to annoy her,” he says. His next words betray the real reason, though. Despite how much she clearly finds me annoying too, he says, I suppose that, unlike Artemis, Meg really needs me.

That’s what the whole “baby sister” thing has always been about: giving himself the illusion that there’s something he can do for Artemis that will justify her wanting to hold onto him, because without it, without her actually needing him for anything, he can’t bring himself to believe that she’d care.

And Apollo knows. When he chooses to, he never has trouble distinguishing the lies from the truth. He’s always known, deep down, that his twin has never needed him. “Artemis understood me,” he tells us. “Well, okay, she tolerated me,” he amends immediately after. “Most of the time,” he adds. “All right, some of the time.”

But “with Meg,” he says, “I felt as if it were actually true.”

He can believe Meg’s love, unlike that of Artemis, unlike that of his children, of everybody else, because he has the means to buy it. He finds comfort in this thought, even as he realizes that he’s already behind on mortgage payments.

“What a horribly insufficient friend I had been,” he thinks.

As he offers her the hug he’d wanted and never dared to give her before, under the mistaken assumption that she wouldn’t accept it – let alone welcome it, he takes all the blame, once again, as he’s well accustomed to.

It’s not your fault, he tells Meg any chance he gets. It’s not your fault. You deserve better. But he is not like her.

In his heart of hearts, Apollo truly does believe he is the lone exception.

Of course it’s all his fault. He is a god. That’s the very definition of being responsible for everything.

“I [will] tough it out until the moment I [keel] over,” he vows, pretending to be shocked at the thought as if that’s not exactly what we’ve seen him do for 4 books straight, as if the only difference isn’t that now he’s admitting to what he’s doing, committed to the new narrative of self improvement he’s chosen for himself just as resolutely as he was to the old fiction of selfish, uncaring entitlement that he’s finally discarded.

Apollo loved to whine, so long as there was no chance of being taken seriously.

But as soon as he realizes that he is, in fact, truly at risk of being believed, he immediately shutters himself off.

He doesn’t deserve his friends’ concern. He refuses to add to their worries. There’s nothing they can do to help him anyway. Apollo needs a miracle. They all do. And they are only mortals. At most, they can buy him some time. The rest is up to him, as it rightfully should be.

What do mortals say – Suck it up? I sucked it way, way up. (TTT 60)

After 3 books of sifting through Apollo's lies to get at the increasingly hard to miss rising mountain of facts, we understand that Apollo is, in fact, observant, keenly perceptive, and incredibly self aware.

Now that he's stopped lying to us every other paragraph about what he really thinks and feels, we are finally able to see where his real blind spots lie.

“I was tired of others keeping me safe,” he says. “The whole point of consulting the arrow had been to figure out how I could get back to the business of keeping others safe.”

As is clearly apparent, by now, from the way he chooses to tell and frame this story, Apollo doesn’t really consider anything he does as a mortal as worth acknowledgement, let alone praise. He keeps noting how others help him, while paying no mind to all the times he has helped them in turn. He feels that everything he did up until this point counts for nothing.

The entirety of his long term plan hinges on regaining his godhood, and his current short term plan is to jump through near impossible hoops in order to perform a ritual that will hopefully allow him to call for divine intervention in time. Not just any divine intervention either: the real deal, “actual grade-AA-quality” help, minor gods need not apply.

His first reaction to discovering himself powerless, way back in book 1, was to swear those stupid oaths on the Styx because the mere idea of being anything less that superhumanly perfect at the things he’s supposed to be famous for horrified him. It didn’t matter to him at all that he was still good at them. More than good in fact! He was still a prodigy by human standards!

But human standards are not the standards Apollo has ever been measuring himself with.

I need to get back to the business of keeping others safe, he says. What he means is, he wants to get back to a place where he’ll have no use for other people’s help. He wants to get back to the place where he’ll have enough power to do everything himself.

In his mind, there can be no give and take. There shouldn’t. Because he is not a person like any other.

A father, he’d said, should give more to his children than he takes. And what are mortal creatures to divine immortal beings, if not frail, clueless children?

This is, to Apollo, what it truly means to be a god. This is his responsibility. To be the solution to all problems. To be endlessly strong, and never in need. To be the father who always gives and never takes.

For him, being able to do anything less than everything isn’t enough.

He is in awe of his mortal friends’ bravery, of their resilience, of their hope. He is grateful for their kindness and generosity. He appreciates everything they’ve done for him. But he feels guilty every time he’s forced to take anything from them. He feels like he shouldn’t. Like it’s wrong of him to even just accept what’s freely offered.

He admires their strength. He finds it genuinely commendable. But he has higher standards for himself. He is a god. They, in the end, are only mortals. There’s only so much they can do.

Now that he’s stopped role playing the asshole, Apollo would never say the latter bit out loud. And he doesn’t. But there’s a part of him, a small, secret one, deep down, that is actually thinking it.

“If Will and Nico were here,” he says at one point, “they would just be two more people for me to worry about.”

Apollo believes that he should be strong enough to carry all of this on his own shoulders. That’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s what gods, the ones that actually matter at least, are for. Apollo should be the only one worrying.

The truth is, even with his newly instated policy of emotional honesty, there’s still so much he simply doesn’t tell anyone. Not even us.

Better not add to our worries. Better for us not to know.

And yet, Apollo’s too intelligent to be entirely stupid, and too decent to be entirely unfair.

He does not make the mistake of keeping crucial intel to himself. He shares all of the knowledge he gains, even when he expects it will do more damage than good. He stands by his beliefs, and he believes in people’s right to make their own choice, even if that choice ends up being the choice to run away.

“I can’t fall into line like a good soldier,” Lavinia tells him. “Me locking shields and marching off to die with everybody else? That’s not going to help anybody.”

Apollo understands. He’s never liked mindless obedience and pointless sacrifices either.

But despite how well he understands her, despite how much of himself he sees in her, even – or perhaps precisely because he sees himself in her, despite having witnessed her unwillingness to back down from a fight several times, he’s quick to assume the worst of her, and of her faun and dryad friends too. Of course they must be running away. They’re mortals. Powerless. What else could they possibly do?

“How simple it would be to destroy their fragile confidence,” he thinks, looking at the people making lighthearted chatter in the mess hall. “Fragile” is the word he uses, also, to describe Meg’s state of mind, an assessment so shockingly patronizing, standing in such stark contrast to all the times he’s praised her strength and bravery all throughout the past 3 books, and in this book too, that it almost feels out of character for him.

But it isn’t. This, too, is who Apollo is.

Asclepius, god of medicine, used to chide me about helping those with disabilities. You can help them if they ask. But wait for them to ask. It’s their choice to make, not yours.

For a god, this was a hard thing to understand, much like deadlines, but I left Lu to her meal. (TON 226)

This is a story about power and privilege. Apollo was born a one percenter not just by mortal standards, but by godly ones too. He was always eager to help, and able to give on a scale that dwarfed every possible attempt to give back on the part of anyone on the receiving end of his blessings.

He doesn’t want to think less of them because of it. He refuses to. He took his human son’s advice to heart, so much so that he remembers and recites it reverently millennia after it was first given to him.

Apollo really does believe in mortals’ right to self determination. He keeps telling them to make their own choices. He is determined to respect them. But deep down, there’s a part of him that wonders just how much of a difference their choices truly can make, when they are backed by so little power. There's a part of him, too, that wonders how informed those choices can be, when they are based on so little life experience, so little knowledge compared to his.

He's so quick to dismiss people's good opinion of him. Their willingness to put their trust in him. Even their love.

They don’t know better, a part of him thinks, still, even now. They will turn away the moment I disappoint them.

Turns out, there’s some real condescension under all the fake one. Much subtler, much harder to spot, and entirely benevolent, but condescension all the same.

Are you sure, the arrow said, unknowingly asking precisely the right question for the wrong reasons, that what you really want is to go back to being the same person you were before?

#trials of apollo #toa #toa spoilers #rrverse

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