#AND THEN YOU COULD HEAR HER SAY HER DOG LIVES WINE

[spooky-holtz]

Sicilian Scheming

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Prompt: "I seen you were looking for ideas for fics and was wondering if you’d write one where Mellisa’s Nona comes to visit her at Abbot during summer planning where she meets teacher Reader and essentially forces them to go on a date together even though they don’t get along well but they end up really hitting it off then a time skip to their wedding where Nona’s bragging about getting them together?"

I've diverted from the prompt a little but the core of it still stands. Strap in.

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

Make no mistake, you absolutely love teaching the third grade but by the time summer comes around, you’re glad to see them go. Summer vacation gives you a chance to relax and enjoy your time away from the stuffy brick building that is Abbott Elementary, spending weeks at a time curled up on the window ledge of your apartment basking in the sun with a good novel and often a crisp glass of wine.  

You rarely get chance to see your co-workers save for the coffee dates you have with Janine, often meeting the smaller woman around the corner from her home to sit and chat in the large glass windows as the rest of the world passes by. You spend hours at a time chatting about anything and everything your rather uneventful lives have thrown at you, fingers curled around a sweating glass of flavored iced tea. These breaks are always among the highlights of your year, giving you a chance to wind down and refresh ready for the next group of kids that you will take under your wing.  

By the time the summer break winds down though, you’re eager to get back to school and see your dysfunctional work family. There’s nothing you love more than the first day after weeks apart, hearing all about Barbra’s annual cruise with Gerald, or Jacob’s latest mission to get himself “down with the kids” - it usually involves some god awful Tik Tok trend that he should NOT be doing, but you don’t have the heart to stop his rather spirited approach to engaging with his students.  

You love these conversations but there is somebody else that you find yourself searching for the second you step foot through the green doors of Abbott; Mellisa Schemmenti. The older woman has become an infatuation for you, her rigid exterior always melting when you interact. She knows exactly how you take your coffee, always leaves a seat open for you during meetings, and takes every opportunity to compliment your appearance - whether it's a new pair of earrings, or a slightly different shade of hair dye, Melissa will always notice.  

She makes you feel special in the smallest ways, always leaving you with the hope that she might actually like you back. It feels juvenile and you can’t help but imagine yourself as one of the kids you teach every day, sending heart eyes across the room at each other at any given chance, just waiting for her cheeks to flush and that small, suppressed smile to appear on her glossed lips.  

Your crush is no secret, but you would never tell anyone - well, except Janine who had managed to guess exactly why you get so nervous around the older woman after a few glasses of wine at the last faculty holiday party. You didn’t have to say anything; your longing looks toward the redhead on the other side of the teachers’ lounge as you nursed a plastic cup full of cheap alcohol was enough to prompt your friend to ask. You could never lie to Janine’s puppy dog eyes, especially not with a buzz courtesy of the liquor store across the street.  

You can’t help but let your thoughts drift toward thick Philly accents as you sit in the gym on the first day of school, squashed between Jacob and Janine and caught directly in the middle of their conversation about whatever new Netflix documentary series dropped last week. You’re really trying to listen, but your thoughts are consumed by bright red curls and glittery lip gloss, not true crime documentaries.  

You find yourself scanning the room as the pair babble on and you notice that the seating arrangement is half empty as you wait for the rest of the faculty to arrive and for Ava to take the stage for yet another development week speech that will go down in infamy at Abbott. She’s already poked her head from behind the curtain on the stage twice, clearly impatient to make her grand entrance to a group of less than willing participants.  

You begin to hear the telltale sound of heeled boots clicking against the linoleum floor and you feel yourself freezing into place just as Melissa waltzes into the hall, Barbara in tow. You don’t know if you’re impressed or terrified at her ability to constantly wear those shoes and the thought makes you realize that you’ve never actually seen Melissa at her normal height. 

Just as you suck in a deep breath, her eyes scan the room and instantly land where you sit, sandwiched between two of your rather enthusiastic co-workers. As her green eyes meet yours you see them shrink at the smile she sends your way, her pearly white teeth cutting through the shiny pink lip gloss she’s always wearing. You send a similar smile back, overjoyed at the fact she merely noticed you. God help your heart rate when she decides to talk to you for the first time in two months.  

Your attention is pulled away by Barbara, who waves enthusiastically from behind Melissa, making her way toward the empty seats directly in front of you. Your eyes dart back to Melissa as she follows the billowing of the older woman’s cardigan, heels still impossibly loud against the floor. 

The dark button down she’s sporting is tight against her torso, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her deceptively toned forearms. You have to remind yourself to look away for a split second, the thought of getting caught ogling her by one of your co-workers forcing you to tear your eyes away. You look toward Janine who has trailed off her conversation with Jacob, the pair watching you and Melissa like a tennis match. You feel your shoulders slump at Jacob’s knowing look, the excitement practically making him vibrate.  

“You’re kidding, you know too?” You sigh. 

“Uh yeah, you don’t exactly hide the heart eyes,” he scoffs. He must see the deer-in-headlights expression on your face because he continues, “I wouldn’t worry, she was definitely just throwing them right back at you.” 

You have no time to reply as the subject of the conversation reaches the row of seats in front of you, sitting in the hard plastic chair and turning her torso to see you, hand resting on the back of her seat. Her smile is wide again as she looks to you. The panic brews in your throat and your palms instantly become sweaty at the prospect of Melissa feeling the intensity of your feelings.  

“Hey hun, it’s been a while,” she says, her eyes still crinkled from the smile she wears. Her focus is entirely on you, ignoring the duo that sits on either of your sides.  

“Yeah, it has,” you manage to stammer out, “How’ve you been? You look good.”  

You inwardly cringe at your words but you’re not lying. She’s obviously had her hair dyed ready for the new school year and it’s even brighter than usual, making her even easier for you to pick out of a crowd. She looks so full of life and at ease, the break clearly having done her well. Her smile grows impossibly wider at your compliment, putting you instantly at ease.  

“It was great,” she replies. “Spent a lotta time at the beach with my family, so I’m not as pasty as you may have remembered.” 

She throws a wink your way with the last statement, causing a pink blush to cover your cheeks within seconds. What you wouldn’t give to actually see Melissa at the beach, totally relaxed on a sun lounger with a drink in hand. The image turns your cheeks an even deeper shade of red and Mel clearly catches on, her smirk letting you know that she knows exactly where your thoughts have gone.  

Before you even have chance to reply, Ava makes her grand entrance from behind the curtain to a chorus of groans that echos throughout the room.  

You can feel Janine’s elbow nudging into your side, your friend having had a front row seat to your entire interaction with the redhead. The action earns her a swift kick to the ankle under her seat, accompanied by a hissed “don’t you dare”.  

The meeting is over almost as quickly as it begins, Ava rushing back to her office to catch the latest episode of Real Housewives - she didn’t explicitly say it but you all know that’s the only reason she would be running back down the hall. You won’t complain though because it means you can get started with your work to prepare your classroom for the year ahead. You stand from your seat alongside Jacob and Janine and have all intentions of getting back to work when Melissa turns around again. Her emerald eyes stop you in your tracks, mid-stretch, your arms flexed above your head.  

“I never got the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your dress,” she says, completely catching you off guard. Your hands fall, hanging limply by your side and brushing against the floral fabric of your clothing. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wear it specifically to catch her eye this morning. The soft smile she wears on her face makes your heart melt, the look on her face only reserved for you. “It's real pretty.” 

You both stand there for a few seconds, blushing like lovesick teenagers and staring into each other's eyes when a throat clearing brings you back to reality. Janine claps her hands together, flustered by the interaction.  

“Okay, I’m gonna get back to my classroom and, uh, get started on cleaning. Have a good day guys!” She calls as she walks away with Jacob in tow, enthusiastic as ever as he throws a thumbs up your way. You know that within five minutes of leaving the school gym she’ll be in your classroom waiting for the rundown on what the hell just happened between you and Melissa, as if she didn’t see it all happen from inches away. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Jacob shows up with a bag of popcorn to join in with the gossip session.  

“Oh shit, yeah, I need to clean before Nonna shows up,” Melissa mumbles, “I don’t wanna even think about the earful I’ll get if my classroom is a mess.” She doesn’t even stop to think before she turns on her heel and practically runs out of the gym and down the hall toward her classroom. You don’t have time to process her words before her best friend speaks.  

“Well, I guess that just leaves us,” Barbara says from her place next to where the redhead stood. She wears a gentle smile on her face that will always help you feel at ease. She reaches her arm out to you, linking your arm within hers as she turns to walk. “Come on honey, I’ll walk you to your room and tell you all about the cruise I had with my Gerald.”  

After a rather lengthy conversation about ‘Sea Barbara’ and her less-than-christian antics, you’re back at your door for the first time in months and can’t help but feel like you’re home. Nobody particularly likes their job but that couldn’t be further from the truth for you. Already, you’ve planned out the next year and can’t wait to welcome your little Eagles back into the classroom.  

It’s a full hour later by the time you actually hear another person’s voice - Janine chose to keep her distance but will no doubt grill you about Melissa at some point today. It’s just a matter of when.  

You hear the signature clicking of her heels before you can see her, her footsteps considerably slower than usual. You can hear her talking as she walks, though you can’t make you exactly what she’s saying. The footsteps grow louder and slower before you hear a knock against your doorframe, the door propped open by a thick stack of textbooks that you’ve wedged in front of it in a desperate attempt to get some airflow in the stuffy room.  

The sound makes you whip your head from where you stand on your stepladder, stapler and crepe paper in hand as you put together a display for the kids. You know exactly who will be standing there, already smiling as you turn and meet her eyes.  

“Hey Hun,” she says, “I’ve got someone here who wanted to really meet you.”  

For the first time you notice the presence beside her. You don’t need to take any guesses that this is Melissa’s infamous Nonna, the older woman clearly having stamped her grandchildren with her genes - she looks exactly how you imagine Melissa would in her old age, her hair silver and leaning gently on a cane.  

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” she exclaims, making you jump and stand up straighter, terrified at the prospect of already being on her bad side. You climb down from the ladder as she stares at you, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress in an effort to get rid of any creases that may have formed during the morning. “You said she was pretty, but not this pretty!”  

You feel your shoulders relax as you laugh at the older woman, taken aback, Melissa by the side of her groaning loudly with a “Nonna, really?” You move toward the pair holding your hand out to shake the wrinkled one of the grey-haired lady before you. Her fingers are adorned by the same kind of jewelry that Melissa wears, her Sicilian heritage extremely clear from the large signet rings that she wears across her hands.  

“And there’s no mistaking that you must be Nonna,” you grin, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re like a living legend around here.” She closes her hand around yours, the other still gripping her cane.  

“Pretty and complimentary?” She remarks, turning to look at her granddaughter whose face has managed to turn the same colour as her hair. “Well, you kept a lot quiet about this one.” 

You can’t help but look at Melissa at this statement, catching her eye and smiling even wider, Nonna’s remarks already making your grin impossibly wide. Her brow relaxes itself slightly, the hard lines around her eyes softening when she sees the pure joy on your face at finally getting to meet the woman you’ve heard so much about over the last few years.  

“I’m not sure if I want to hear exactly what you know about me,” you joke to her, catching Melissa’s eye yet again. The poor woman looks unbelievably flustered but it's a welcome change in your dynamic. She usually gets to revel in the fact that you turn into a puddle in her presence, but now you can only hope to add to the quickly darkening hue of her cheeks.  

“Trust me, you do. This one doesn’t shut up about you,” she says, smiling slightly and cocking her head toward Melissa who is actively wishing that a sinkhole would open up beneath her feet. She lets go of your hand and moves further into the classroom, leaning ever so slightly on her stick but still moving with all the confidence of your favourite Schemmenti woman - at least you know where Melissa gets it from now.  

Your eyes dart to Melissa, the older woman already looking back at you with a silent apology in her eyes her teeth worrying her bottom lip. You reach out and rub the top of her arm over her shirt in a small act of comfort, letting her know that this entire situation is doing nothing but working in her favour.  

“Ya know, it’s nice seeing something other than my Melissa’s classroom or the reception desk at this school for once,” Nonna says, almost speaking to herself. She looks around the room almost in awe, taking in the displays in various degrees of completion around the room.  

You follow her further in, Melissa hot on your tail behind you. She’s so close that you feel her almost walk straight into your back as you stop closer to the older woman, her once intimidating heels stuttering slightly on the wooden floor.  

“So, tell me,” Nonna begins, turning in place to face you, “What brought a girl like you to Philly? I know you’re not a local.” Her eyes twinkle as she asks, and you have a sneaking suspicion that she already knows the answer to her question from the tales her granddaughter has seemingly told her about you.  

“I just wanted a change,” you answer honestly. “I only thought I’d be here a couple years, but it’s been five and I can’t see myself leaving any time soon.” 

At your statement you hear Melissa sigh by your side. As your head turns to meet her gaze you see just how much it softened at your words. She knows just how much you love your job and the dedication you’re willing to put into making sure these kids make it. Year after year she’s been the one to help you draft lesson plans and mark countless piles of work over a mug of coffee in the teachers’ lounge, helping you when you feel slightly out of your depth in more ways than she could imagine. 

It’s only when she’s this close to your face that you can see the glittering of her lip gloss as she smiles slightly, her lips pulled together in a look that conveys so much softness.  

“Do you like Italian food?” Nonna asks, breaking the tense silence that has fallen between you. You feel the redhead beside you jump, both of you completely forgetting that her grandmother is just meters away from your little moment. You can’t answer quick enough, crying out for her approval and hoping that you can focus back from the incredible green eyes that are currently burning into the side of your head.  

“Oh yeah, I absolutely love an Italian,” you stutter out, “Can’t get enough.” 

You inwardly cringe at your words as you hear Melissa snicker by your side, Nonna’s eyes twinkling with amusement again. You hear a quiet “Bedda Matri” from Melissa through the giggles that shake her body.  

“I bet ya do,” Nonna says, her grin revealing her impossibly pearly white teeth. You can feel yourself getting warmer and you’re not sure if it’s from the stuffiness of your classroom and its broken windows or from the pure embarrassment radiating through your system. “You know, I taught Melissa everything she knows about Italian food. Maybe if you’re nice she’ll cook for you sometime.” 

Nonna’s eyebrows are raised as you turn to meet Melissa’s eyes, the older woman shrugging in your direction. It's nice to know you aren’t the only person completely lost in this conversation.  

“Oh, I know!” Nonna exclaims, making the pair of you jump yet again, “Melissa, how about you cook this nice girl the family baked ziti tonight? Say, 7 o’clock?”  

“Uh sure, if you don’t have anything on?” Melissa says, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion once again.  

“No no, I’m totally free,” you stammer, your cheeks matching the deep red of your co-worker's hair. “I’ve got your address too.” 

“Wonderful!” Nonna almost shouts, her shrill voice echoing off the semi-bare walls of your classroom. “You’re going to love it, trust me.” She says, throwing a wink your way.  

You don’t particularly want to admit that the smaller woman is, but you do love it. So much so that two years later you’re twirling around a dance floor in a lacy white dress, Melissa in a matching getup and shiny new diamond rings on your left hands. As Billy Joel croons the chorus of ‘Just the Way You Are’ from the speakers set up around the room, you hear a familiar voice chirp up from a table just out of reach of the dance floor.  

“You know, they would never have gotten together if I hadn’t practically knocked their heads together,” Nonna says, her voice carrying over the song as she explains her matchmaking services to Melissa’s Uncle Tony. You feel Melissa grin where her cheek rests against yours, your expression matching hers as you hear the older woman carry on. “I’m telling you now Anthony, this wedding wouldn’t even be happening if it wasn’t for me.”  

You feel Melissa begin to giggle where she stands, her hands resting against the lace at the small of your back, thumbs rubbing gently against the surface as you sway together. You hear Nonna carry on, adamant that the life you’ve built wouldn’t be possible if not for her, and as much as you don’t want to give her satisfaction, you both know she’s right.  

[ginnsbaker]

In Silent Screams (1/3)

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you.

Chapter word count: 10.3k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision Tags: Mentions of Smut (F/M), Cheating, Angst, Gaslighting

Notes: This will follow the events of IFISS (not strictly) but in Wanda's POV. Check the tags, you've been warned. This is not rated M, but feel free to skip parts you feel uncomfortable with.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part I 

It’s all happening very fast and she’s hardly keeping pace.

You and Wanda have cleared the apartment you've shared for over five years. The boxes are loaded onto the moving truck, while more personal items are safely packed away in the trunk and rear seats. You're in the building's administrative office, addressing the bills and finalizing other necessities before the move, while Wanda waits for you, sitting on the floor in the middle of what used to be the living room.

Sparky darts around the room, the vastness of the deserted space giving him room to play. Every so often, he looks up at Wanda, his tail wagging, perhaps sensing the change that's about to come. Wanda's gaze follows the little dog, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, grateful for his company. 

Every corner of this apartment held a memory—from the faded mark on the kitchen wall where Wanda accidentally spilled red wine, to the tiny dent on the living room floor, after Sparky ran into it during a rough playtime with you. Packing up wasn’t just about boxing items; it felt like carefully wrapping up fragments of time, every piece a memory filed away, never to be recovered ever again.

Though the accumulation of belongings over the years had made the space feel a tad cramped, and a move to a larger place seemed the logical next step, Wanda was deeply nostalgic about leaving behind this chapter. It marked the end of an era for you both—the days of being a young, hopeful couple in love. But at the same time, Wanda also held onto the hope that maybe starting anew somewhere would be good, especially since the past few months have been rocky, with her failed attempts to get pregnant and her stagnant career. Maybe a fresh environment would ease some of that pain, she thought.

The trail leading up to this new chapter, however, is characterized by your increasing hours at the office, overshadowing the time spent at the apartment. Yet, it's this very commitment that led to your promotion just two weeks ago, sparking the unexpected decision to move to an unfamiliar town in New Jersey.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, Wanda feels as if life is moving at an almost dizzying pace. Everything is changing so quickly: your recent promotion, the emotional roller-coaster of trying for a baby, and now the looming move. It’s been more than a lot to take in.

Your footsteps, a soft thud against the wooden floor, break the quiet, drawing Wanda from her deep thoughts. 

“Ready to go?”

She turns towards you, her eyes slightly misty, and whispers, “Just one more minute.”

Understanding her need to linger, you cross the room and lower yourself beside her. “Are you okay?” you ask.

Nodding, she takes a deep breath, as if trying to inhale every memory, every scent of the place she's called home for so long. “Yeah. I just need a moment to say goodbye.”

Gently, you squeeze her shoulder, drawing her gaze to meet yours. “You know, it's not really goodbye,” you murmur, trying to reassure her. “Scott promised it’s temporary, so there's a good chance we could be back here in Manhattan.”

Wanda turns to face you, her eyes searching yours for any hint that you're merely telling her what she wants to hear. You consistently strive to make her happy, aiming to shield her from distress. It's a trait she adores about you, though it can slightly irritate her at times. But right now—

“You really think we might come back?” she asks.

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. Manhattan is where we built so many of our memories, and it will always be a part of us. Westview is just a chapter, not the whole story.”

—right now she appreciates your ability to ground her with your words.

She laughs a bit, dabbing at her eyes. “God, I've fallen so hard for this place.”

“Me too,” you say, giving in to the urge to kiss her forehead. After all these years, and despite being married for a while, you still constantly seek reasons to be near her, to touch her. “But wherever we’ll go, we’ll make it our own.”

-

Wanda decides to christen the first day in your new home by making love on the living room floor, and you're as eager to indulge her. It's short and sweet, straightforward in its intensity. You’re both already attuned to each other's bodies, and she knows precisely where to touch, how to curl her fingers to draw out those soft, sultry moans she always finds so enticing.

The shadows created by the fire dance across the walls, mirroring the boxes scattered all around, each labeled and awaiting their turn to be unpacked and settled into this new space. Wanda absentmindedly rakes her fingers through your hair, your head cushioned on her warm, pillowy chest as you sleepily hum a song. Every scratch sends tingles down your spine, adding to the lethargy pulling at your eyelids.

“'Fade Into You' by Mazzy Star,” Wanda says softly, recognizing the tune.

You give a soft, drowsy chuckle. “You always know. Remember that tiny café near your dorm? They played it on a loop. It was drizzling outside, and we had that ridiculously oversized shared umbrella.”

Wanda smiles at the memory. “How could I forget? We sat there for hours, sipping on our lattes and listening to that song. And we weren’t even together then.”

Drawing a deep breath, you let out a contented sigh, murmuring, “Yeah, but I was already so deeply in love with you then.”

Wanda scrunches her nose and smirks, teasingly retorting, “That's really cheesy.”

You grin, nuzzling further into her, feeling her heart's rhythmic beat beneath your ear. “Doesn't make it any less true,” you whisper.

Wanda would later reflect on this memory, wishing she had held onto it more tightly, especially since it marked the true beginning of something withering inside of her.

-

Westview isn't quite the place Wanda envisioned. Instead of offering an escape from the unresolved threads of both your lives, it feels more like trading one cage for another. The town pulses with its own set of peculiarities, a rhythm and routine foreign to her. She's ambivalent about it. Sees it only as a brief interlude, a temporary concession she's making to support your career endeavors.

The demands of your job appear to be greater than either of you anticipated. As she's finishing up the first dish she's prepared for the evening, you call her midday to say you won't be home for dinner. 

It's not the first or even the third instance. She refrains from keeping tally because she doesn't want to be that kind of wife. However, she's certain it's happened more than just a few times. Wanda tries to hide the disappointment from her voice, assuring you it's fine and that she understands. But as she hangs up the phone, a sensation that's become all too familiar washes over her. 

She finds herself drifting towards the window, gazing out at the street below, lost in thought. She's never been one to demand all of your time, but this—it's the first time she's felt so small and insignificant. Aside from that first day when you both made love on every possible surface, there hasn't been a moment recently where you've shown interest in being that adventurous again. You both promised never to become that type of couple. Yet now, she's tormented by the thought: maybe you no longer find her as attractive as you used to, or perhaps you've come to realize some latent disappointment in her.

But everytime you come back in the quiet of the night, pulling her close, kissing her neck, and nestling into her hair, you dispel all her doubts. Wanda's only learning now how exhausting and powerless it could feel to need someone this much.

-

One particular night, mirroring the many late evenings before, you arrive home to find Wanda watching television in the living room. Both of you are thrilled to see each other awake, rather than just you returning to a warm, sleeping body next to your (cold) side of the bed.

Wanda's hair is slightly tousled, eyes glazed from the weariness of the day, but they light up when they meet yours. The corners of her lips curl into a small, sluggish smile. “You're home,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and longing.

You shed your coat, moving towards the couch and sitting down beside her. “I missed you,” you admit, running a gentle hand through her hair.

She leans into your touch, her body molding against yours. “I've been trying to stay awake lately, just hoping I might get to see you before drifting off,” Wanda says. “Tell me about your day.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process the day's events. “Same old, same old,” you say, putting your head on her shoulder. “Tight deadlines. And you won't believe this, but Janet, my secretary, she's going on maternal leave sooner than expected. So the office... well, they decided to throw something together last minute.”

She sits up a bit. “So you weren't held up because of work, but because of a party?”

“Uh, yeah. I think I mentioned it in my text?”

“I didn't get any message about…” Wanda trails off, taking a moment to steady herself. You’ve barely seen each other in the past week. The last thing she wants is to lash out on you.

But instead of noticing her distress and apologizing, or recognizing how your consecutive absences have affected her, you're fixated on pulling out your phone, scrolling through your messages, to… what? To prove to her that you mentioned it in your text?

“I sent you a text. I swear, I mentioned it,” you mumble. After a few more seconds, you let out a sigh of exasperation, showing her the screen where the message lays unsent. “The message failed to send... I thought you knew.”

Wanda looks at the screen and then back at you, her gaze softening slightly. “It happens,” she says with a soft smile.

“I'm sorry, Wanda,” you admit, placing the phone down. “Yes, it was a gathering, and I should've double-checked or called.”

She shakes her head, her fingers brushing against your cheek, just happy to be touching you. “I’m not mad. I just miss you, that's all.”

You take her hand in yours, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I miss you too. So bad.”

Wanda shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable in the embrace. “Did you have fun, at least?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you reply with an enthusiastic nod. “It was great catching up with everyone, especially Janet. Did you know she only got married a year ago? And they're already expecting. It's amazing how quickly things happen for some people.”

Wanda's expression, which had been soft and open, changes almost imperceptibly. The brightness in her eyes dims a little, and there's a slight tensing of her lips, a subtle sign of the pain you unknowingly inflicted. You love her, yet at times you unintentionally wound her deeply without even realizing it. Wanda doesn't know how that can be, but in this moment, it feels truer than ever.

“She's really excited,” you continue, oblivious to the change in your wife’s demeanor. “They weren't even really trying. It just... happened. I'm happy for her, genuinely.”

Wanda nods, swallowing hard. “That's... that's great for them,” she says, forcing a smile. She withdraws from your hold, rising from the couch. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

This time, you notice the hardened look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It's nothing,” she replies with a faint, unconvincing smile. “Just tired.”

“Wanda—”

“Good night.”

You hold back, not pushing her for answers. She stops briefly at the base of the stairs, shoulders drooping. Then, with a heavy sigh, she slowly makes her way up, each step looking like it takes more effort than the last. 

-

The computer screen shines a relentless blue glow onto her face. 

As the weeks pass, she sees fewer and fewer unread emails, fewer blinking notifications. The heart of the art world has always thrummed with in-person interactions, art deals solidified by firm handshakes, cocktail parties filled with patrons looking to be swayed by a charismatic gallery curator, and the intimate closeness that comes from viewing a painting together and discussing its merits. Video calls, as efficient as they are, don't capture the nuance of human emotion and instinct in the same way.

Sometimes she dreams of being back in the thick of it all, surrounded by masterpieces and dizzying energy. Westview, however, is quaint, almost eerily so. It has its charms, its local coffee shops and small art scenes, but it's a far cry from the scenes of the big city.

She feels her importance at the gallery dwindling. She can't fault them; many of the responsibilities demand her physical presence. Currently, she can only manage to send crucial emails and direct calls and messages from essential patrons, sponsors, and others integral to the gallery's ecosystem. Her power of persuasion doesn't translate as effectively one email at a time. 

Wanda has always enjoyed playing to her strengths, particularly when meeting artists in person, where she can swiftly adapt her tactics based on the reactions of her audience, all while maintaining her self-assured demeanor, knowing that she carries a natural charm. However, being stuck in this town has taken that from her.

Feeling the stirrings of frustration rise in her gut, Wanda steps away from the table and retrieves her cellphone. She stares at it like it’s her salvation, contemplating whether to make the call. She needs someone to talk to, someone who knows her, someone who won't judge. 

She dials Agatha's number.

The phone rings a few times before a familiar voice, which once irked her but now only deepens her homesickness, answers.

“Wanda, dear! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wanda tries to muster her energy to match Agatha's, but a hint of her distress manages to seep through. “Hi, I'm—I'm doing well. How about you?”

“Great,” Agatha replies cheerfully, but then her voice drops, “What's troubling you?”

“Nothing,” Wanda tells her quickly. A soft “hm” emanates from Agatha's end, followed by a silence that feels hefty, but not oppressive. It's the kind of silence that invites confession, though with a gossip-driven curiosity.

“It's this place,” Wanda starts, “It's not what I expected. I thought being here would give me space to breathe, a fresh start, but instead, I feel... trapped. Isn't it ironic? I have all this open space around me, but I feel more confined than ever.”

Agatha sighs, a knowing lilt in her voice. “Look, we've been in this rat race long enough. New city, new job, new whatever—it's all the same cycle, just different packaging. Maybe this detachment you're feeling? It's a cue. A chance to rethink... everything.”

Wanda arches an eyebrow, though Agatha can't see it. “What are you saying?” Sparky trots towards her, mewling. Wanda briefly flashes him a smile before scratching him behind his ears.

Agatha's voice grows sharper, more incisive. “I’m saying that maybe you haven’t really given your new town a chance because you’re holding on tightly on a rope to the past. I'm saying maybe the gallery, as much as it's been your lifeline, is now your anchor. Dragging you down. Ever thought of cutting the cord?”

Wanda's heart races. “You mean quit? Just like that?”

A snort from Agatha. “Why not? What's it giving you right now? A title? Perks? Or just a nostalgia trip and a daily reminder of what used to be?”

Wanda is silent, grappling with the blunt reality Agatha’s laying out. The realization that maybe she's clinging to a past that doesn't fit her present is daunting.

“Look, Wanda,” Agatha continues, softer now, “it's just business. The gallery won't sink without you, and maybe you'll find a version of yourself you didn't know existed without it. Westview’s a new board. Play it.”

-

The house is enormous for two people and a small dog. The vastness of the space should thrill her, yet it amplifies her loneliness. Your early departures and late returns leave her lingering in the expanse, waiting for life to unfold. The sparkling countertops, the polished floors—she's cleaned them over twice this week, a feeble attempt to occupy her time, to feel some semblance of accomplishment. 

But what's the point when, at the end of it all, it feels like nothing? 

Wanda's eyes flutter open as she hears the familiar, albeit late, sound of the front door clicking shut. Recently, her sleep has been light, so even your softest footfalls register in her consciousness. She remains still, her back turned to the bedroom door, her breathing deliberate and even. The sounds of shuffling reach her ears: the rustle of clothes, a muted sigh, the faint creak of a floorboard.

The bed shifts, dips, as you ease yourself beside her. The silence stretches, becoming palpable, thick. And then, a whisper, soft and low, bathed in regret. “Wanda?”

She doesn’t respond, biting back the words she wants to unleash, the lack of purpose and direction she feels these days. The longing in her eyes, if you could see it, would tear right through you. 

It's been five nights in a row. Five nights of cool sheets and colder silences.

Moments later, she feels you trace your fingers over the bare curve of her arm. “I'm sorry,” you whisper, every word dripping with the weariness of corporate warfare and personal neglect. “Missed you. Like you wouldn't believe.”

You press a tender kiss to her hair and Wanda holds her breath. “I promise, I'll make it right,” you say, your voice a mere breath against her ear. “We'll find our way back. I just... I need a bit more time.” Nestled against her, the familiar contours of her body will always be your home, and soon the demands of the past days pull you into a deep slumber.

Yet, for Wanda, sleep remains out of reach. Despite your assurances, a gnawing uncertainty has taken root in her heart. She craves your company, but she also harbors a growing resentment that she’s been trying to deny ever since she set foot in this forsaken town. 

Not for the first time this year, Wanda wonders if you can really love someone deeply and yet blame them for the things in your life that make you unhappy.

-

The rain pelts down on Westview’s streets, the usually quiet lanes now slick with water and glistening under the sporadic streetlights. Wanda’s pace quickens, her umbrella slipping from her loose grip when an unforeseen splash from a passing car leaves her utterly soaked.

“Hey!” she shouts out, more from shock than anger. But the car drives on, indifferent to the trail of mess it's left behind. She's in the process of assessing the damage—wet strands of hair plastering to her face and her shirt now ruined – when he appears. A young man with strikingly bleached hair, seeming unaffected by the god-awful weather.

“You look like you're having a day,” he remarks, his voice carrying an amused lilt. With a confident stride, he approaches her. He’s tall—almost a foot taller than her. “Here, this might help,” he says, already moving to the trunk of his parked car nearby. 

She watches him, curious and a tad skeptical. It's not every day a stranger offers assistance, especially in pouring rain. But this one is already producing a neatly folded tee from the trunk. “I hit the gym quite a bit. Always have a spare,” he explains, flashing a grin.

Wanda hesitates, her gaze shifting from the shirt to him and back. Up close, he appears younger than she initially perceived. “Thanks,” she murmurs, accepting the shirt. There's an odd sincerity in his eyes that makes her trust him, if only for this fleeting moment.

“How about a drink? To warm you up. And perhaps, as a small token of thanks for letting me play the good samaritan today,” he says. She arches an eyebrow, surprised by his boldness. Most people would've stopped at the shirt. Had this conversation taken place in Manhattan, Wanda would have already left with a sharp remark about his bold attempt to engage her in conversation. But here and now, she can't quite pinpoint why she hasn't brushed him off as she usually would have by this point.

Despite her initial reluctance, she finds herself smiling. You're the only person she's spoken to since arriving in Westview. She's so starved for a bit of normalcy that maybe a chat with a stranger might do the trick. After all, he's just a kid. She could regard him as a nephew or something similar.

“Alright,” she concedes, “just one drink.”

-

Within the first minute, Wanda learns his name: Victor Shade. However, he prefers the nickname ‘Vision’, which Wanda finds a tad whimsical. They find a cozy booth in a tucked-away corner, shielding them from potential prying eyes passing by the restaurant. While Wanda didn't plan to keep their meeting a secret, Vision naturally guided her to the more discreet spot.

“So, Wanda,” Vision begins, taking a sip of his drink, “What brought you to town? It doesn't seem like the most obvious choice for someone like you.”

Wanda looks at him, intrigued. “Someone like me? What does that mean?”

He chuckles, “Well, from our short interaction, you seem like someone who's seen bigger cities, more happening places. Westview is... charming, but quiet.”

“Same could be said about you. You don't exactly scream 'small town boy' either,” Wanda says.

Vision's eyebrows rise playfully, feigning offense. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Your confidence,” she retorts with a smirk. “It's loud, almost deafening. It echoes big city vibes.”

He laughs, nodding in concession. “Touche.”

As their conversation progresses, Wanda begins to see him less as a kid and more as a well-read, intriguing individual, particularly when Vision reveals he's an art major, his eyes lighting up as he talks about his passion for Renaissance art and postmodernism.“I graduated with a degree in art,” she shares, her own memories of university flooding back. She recounts stories of late-night classes and the exhilaration of her first gallery show. They bond over favorite artists and art movements, finding shared preferences and amusing disagreements. It's a pleasant surprise for Wanda to discover that, out of all the people in Westview, the first one she genuinely converses with is someone with whom she shares so much in common.

Yet, as she's engaging with Vision, a tiny voice at the back of her mind keeps drawing comparisons between him and you. The way you and Wanda communicate is so fundamentally different. You lean heavily on the left, analytical and logical in your thinking. Your conversations with Wanda often revolve around structured debates, dissecting topics with precision and care, always seeking the root cause or solution. Wanda, on the other hand, leans more to the right, driven by creativity and emotion. She loves diving into abstract concepts, weaving narratives and ideas with passion.

You and Wanda did find common interests and topics that you both enjoy. Over the years, you've had countless meaningful moments where you both found yourselves talking for hours on end. But the rapport she's building with Vision is something she hasn't felt in a long while, or perhaps ever, even with you. It's not necessarily better or worse; it's just different, and it takes her by surprise.

At one point, Vision’s gaze falls upon the glint of Wanda's wedding ring, reflecting the ambient light of the restaurant. “You're married,” he observes, not as a question but a statement.

Wanda hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes, I am.”

Vision looks at her, searching for something in her eyes. “Does he know you're out with a stranger?”

“She,” Wanda corrects instinctively, her cheeks warming as she notices his eyes sparkle with heightened interest, then she adds, “She probably wouldn't mind. We trust each other. Besides, it's just a drink with a friend, right?”

He smiles, raising his glass. “To friendship.”

-

For the first time, she arrives home later than you that night. Wanda finds you in the living room, curled up on the couch, a remote in hand, and an empty wine glass on the table beside you.

As the door clicks shut, you turn, and your eyes clouded with surprise as you meet hers. “Hey,” you murmur, the TV's remote paused mid-air, “Wasn't expecting you this late.”

Wanda shrugs, unsure of how to convey the unexpected turn her day had taken. She hangs her coat and moves towards the living room, her shoes making soft tapping noises against the wooden floor. “Ran into someone... from college,” she half-lies, the omission of Vision's identity a deliberate choice. Not out of guilt, but more a protective instinct to keep the evening's serendipitous meeting to herself.

“Oh? How was that?”

“It was... nice. Different,” Wanda replies, picking her words with care. She can sense your gaze on her, trying to piece together the puzzle, and she quickly adds, “We just grabbed a drink, caught up. You know how it is.”

You nod slowly, the lines of your face softening. “Good. You needed that. This move... it's been hard on you.” The acknowledgment feels like a balm, and Wanda gives you a small, appreciative smile. She’s about to head upstairs when your voice stops her in her tracks.

“That's a... unique shirt you've got there,” you comment. She turns around slowly to face you and sees a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. 

Wanda glances down at the shirt she's wearing, an admittedly garish tee that's far from her usual style. “Some idiot in a car decided I looked better drenched,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “This was the only option the nearby store had.”

It's her third lie of the evening, and Wanda can't explain why she keeps doing it.

“Well, I've got to say, it's a look. You're absolutely killing it,” you tease, a bit sarcastically.

Wanda snorts, the tightness in her chest loosening a little. “Oh, shut it.” She can't help but smile. “You're one to talk. Remember that hideous Christmas sweater you insisted on wearing last year?”

Ah, a challenge. You rise from your spot on the couch, taking a deliberate step towards her. “That was festive. This is... rebellious?” you guess, tracing a finger in the air around the outlines of her new shirt. “You pulling a midlife crisis on me, Mrs. Maximoff?”

She blushes, but whether from the memory of the car incident or your close proximity, it's hard to tell. “It's just a shirt,” she retorts, but her voice cracks and the light in her eyes betrays her amusement.

Your fingers itch to brush against the fabric of her shirt, to maybe pull her closer. “You know,” you murmur, voice low, “you could make even a potato sack look sexy.”

Wanda bites her lower lip, her breath catching just slightly. She revels in the banter, the space between yourselves shrinking with every heartbeat. She finds herself lost in the pull, but a gnawing unease lingers, making her wary. Just then, Sparky comes out of nowhere, sprinting and eventually running into Wanda’s leg. His tail wags a mile a minute, pleading for Wanda to shower him with affection. Grateful for the interruption, Wanda quickly shifts her attention, bending down to indulge the spirited pup. “Missed me, did you, Sparks?”

You try to mask your disappointment, but the subtle change in your expression isn't lost on her, even as she pointedly looks away.

-

Nights following her meeting with Vision find Wanda restless. It isn’t necessarily Vision himself that haunts her thoughts, but rather their impassioned discussion on art (and just about anything). She realizes, with a sharp pang, how deeply she misses the world that served as her refuge for years when she sought to escape her own reality.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she heads to Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences, seeking a place where her passion and expertise could be valuable.

Hours later, she gets an email inviting her for an interview with the dean. Apparently, the school has been looking for an assistant professor for the past several months now.

-

A week later, they offer her the position, and she talks to you about it shortly after sending them the signed letter of acceptance.

-

Her first day at the school is all kinds of awkward, likely more so than her first day as a student years ago. The university building looks massive for being in such a remote, out-of-the-way town. All around, there's a crowd of young students bustling about, their laughter and conversations filling the crisp, morning air. 

Among them, Wanda stands, momentarily frozen—an outsider looking in. She wears a chic black ensemble: slacks, a blazer, and a turtleneck, hoping to conceal the anxiety that's making it difficult for her to keep her breakfast down. However, as she's introduced to a few of the other professors, her resolve wavers. They're in more casual attire, and she can't help but feel a tad overdressed, sticking out like a meticulously painted stroke on an empty canvas.

She doesn't get to meet her students immediately. Instead, her day is consumed by orientation processes, faculty meetings, and an extensive tour of the sprawling campus. Every time she turns a corner or meets someone new, a mix of excitement and jitters rushes through her. The enormity of the responsibility she's shouldering, coupled with the fact that she's never taught anyone before (not even tutored)—it's both intimidating and thrilling all at once.

It's been a while since she's felt this alive, apart from the rare times when you're home on time, or when she gets to spend an entire day with you. But this? This is the first time in ages that something beyond the comfort of your love has rekindled a spark in her, reminding Wanda of a part of herself she had almost forgotten.

-

At the end of her first day, Wanda does meet one of her students.

Technically, she has met him before, but it was in the context of a friendly stranger who lent her his shirt when she needed it the most. When Vision told her that he was an art student, she didn't actually expect to find him attending the same university. She had assumed he was from the city and just passing through.

(Perhaps it’s her silliest assumption she's made to date but—it is what it is.)

“Aren't you a pleasant surprise,” Vision says, rolling down the window of his Mustang. When his voice reaches her, it's distinctly out of place, an unexpected ripple in her carefully mapped out day. 

She swallows hard, resisting the urge to take a step back, “Vision, I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

He grins, the sunlight catching the edges of his aviator glasses. “It's a small world, or rather, a small university.” He tilts his head playfully, “Wait... are you...?”

Wanda cuts him off, “Let's just say, I'm exploring my options here.”

A pause ensues, both understanding the unsaid implications. 

“You know,” Vision starts, leaning against his car, “I'd heard there was a new, 'exceptionally dressed' professor in town. Just didn't piece it together that it would be you.”

“It's a small world,” she murmurs, her face a shade paler.

He seems to sense her discomfort and remarks, “I suppose this changes everything.”

Wanda sighs, “It's just... I need to maintain a certain decorum here. It would be inappropriate if—”

“—If I turned out to be one of your students,” he finishes for her. His smirk is replaced by a milder expression. “Don't worry. Whatever our relationship outside this campus, I respect boundaries. And I expect you do too.”

She nods, appreciative of his maturity. “Thank you, Vision.”

Before she can fully turn away, Vision snaps his fingers together. “Oh, by the way, you left something with me from last time. Your shirt? The shirt you had to change out of?”

Wanda's face reddens slightly at the memory. “I completely forgot about that. Do you have it?”

Vision points with a thumb over his shoulder towards his car. “Wait a second. It's in the back.” He moves to retrieve the shirt, but after rummaging for a few moments, he frowns. “I could have sworn I left it here…”

He removes his sunglasses, allowing his gaze to lift in thought, revealing the unnaturally vibrant blue of his eyes to Wanda.  “Ah, I remember now. It's in my laundry bag, which I took to my apartment.”

“It's fine. You can give it back another time,” Wanda says.

But Vision, with that same gleam in his eyes, counters, “Why not just come with me and get it now? It's a short drive.”

She bites her lip, thinking. On one hand, she'd rather not prolong their interaction given the new dynamics. On the other, it might be best to just get it over with. “I'm not sure…”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I promise it's just a shirt, Professor.”

The inclusion of the title almost brings a smile to her face. “Alright,” Wanda gives in, “But only if it’s quick. And remember, as far as the university is concerned, we’re merely acquaintances.”

“Technically, you haven’t met your class yet. And as of now, I’m not your student,” he points out with an innocent shrug.

The logic is sound, though it does little to quell the anxiety bubbling within Wanda. She nods, exhaling deeply. “Let’s go.”

They drive to Vision’s apartment building, the journey marked by fleeting glances and a silence that's not entirely comfortable. He attempts to dispel the tension, “I've washed and ironed the shirt for you. Hope that's alright.”

She looks over, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you, that's... unexpected.”

As she sits in the passenger seat of Vision’s car, Wanda inadvertently starts picking up on the small details surrounding her. She notices the immaculate interior of the car—not a stray piece of litter, every surface gleaming. There's a fresh, clean scent permeating the space, a subtle hint of citrus perhaps. It's not the typical aroma one would expect from a college student's car. She thinks of the younger people she's known and how their vehicles often doubled as chaotic storage spaces, littered with discarded clothes, takeaway containers, and the musty scent of overdue laundry.

When they arrive at his apartment, it further exemplifies this meticulousness. Sketches, paintings, and art supplies are neatly arranged, yet the area feels lived-in, warm, not sterile. It's easy to forget he's just 21. He exudes an aura of maturity that doesn’t align with his years. If they had met under different circumstances, and if she hadn’t known his age, she would have pegged him for someone much older, someone who's seen more, experienced more.

“Your shirt,” Vision says, pulling it out from a cupboard—neatly folded, rather than from the laundry bag he remembered earlier. “As promised.”

As Wanda accepts it, her fingers brush against a freshly painted canvas. The vibrant colors smear slightly under her touch.

“Oh! I'm so sorry,” she exclaims, pulling her hand back.

Vision waves it off, “No worries. Sometimes accidents lead to the best kind of art.”

He then looks contemplative for a moment before posing a question,  “You know, Picasso once said, 'Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.' What do you think of that?”

The randomness of it throws her off for a second, before she regards him with a thoughtful look. “Well, in a way, creation and destruction aren't opposing forces. One can be a precursor to the other. To create something new, often something old has to give way.”

Vision's eyes light up, clearly pleased by her response. “Exactly! It's like when you're sketching. Sometimes, you have to erase an entire section just to rework it. And often, the second attempt is much better than the first.”

They continue discussing, each statement leading to another topic, and another. After a while, Vision hesitates before making a bold request, “Wanda, would you... would you mind if I sketched you? Just for practice. You have such unique features, and it'd be a challenge for me.”

“Trying to butter up your professor already?” It comes out a bit flirtatious by accident, and Wanda struggles to retract it.

He nods, a little sheepishly. “Only if you're comfortable. It’s just... our discussion has inspired me.”

Wanda laughs lightly, unable to deny that the notion does flatter her.. “Alright, but only for a bit. I'm not exactly dressed for a portrait.”

“You are…” Vision murmurs almost too quietly to hear, his eyes already fixed on his sketchpad. But Wanda still catches it, and a faint blush tints her cheeks. Vision gets to work. In this moment, she's both his muse and his critic, and for a brief while, a hushed silence envelops the room.

However, as the minutes tick by, Wanda begins to feel increasingly restless beneath his studious, penetrating gaze. She tries to keep her posture, attempting to appear at ease, but her muscles gradually tighten in response to his intent focus. There’s a kind of intimacy in being observed so closely that she wasn’t quite prepared for.

“Can you tilt your head just a bit to the left?” he asks, never lifting his gaze from the page. She obliges. Moments later, “A little to the right now, and chin up. Perfect.”

Wanda obeys, adjusting her position to his liking. But it's a stray strand of hair that falls onto her forehead that really tests her composure. Vision notices it immediately. “Could you brush that hair away, please?” he asks.

She reaches up, trying to tuck it behind her ear, but it stubbornly returns to its original position. Frowning in mild irritation, she tries again but with the same result.

Vision chuckles softly. “Stay still,” he murmurs, placing his sketchpad to the side. He carefully rises from his seat and approaches her, eyes never leaving her face. “I'll fix it.”

Heart inexplicably racing, Wanda can't comprehend why she obeys so willingly, remaining motionless as Vision's fingertips ghost near her face. The distance between them becomes almost negligible as his face hovers mere inches from hers. She can feel the warmth of his breath, see the earnest concentration in his eyes. Slowly, ever so gently, his fingers brush the errant strand away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “There we go,” Vision whispers. 

But instead of retreating, he lingers. She watches as Vision's eyes flutter closed, and he begins to lean in. She's teetering at the precipice of something that can't be taken back, and she’s horrified to discover a part of her that wants to give in.

Shaking herself out of the trance, she manages to whisper with a tremble in her voice, “I... I have to go.” Her words cut through the moment like a knife, yet Vision remains close, eyes searching hers as he softly challenges, “Are you sure?”

That simple question, laden with suggestion, irks Wanda. This was more than just an innocent sketching session. Irritation builds as she understands what he might have been attempting. In her haste to distance herself, she stands abruptly, accidentally brushing his face with her head. She doesn't apologize, too focused on gathering her belongings.

Vision, realizing his mistake, scrambles to his feet, “Wanda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—”

But she cuts him off, hand already on the door handle. “I'll see you in class, Mr. Shade.”

-

Wanda doesn't know how you managed to convince her to shower together one morning.

To be fair, you didn't make much of an effort to persuade her, and she was more than willing to participate. Perhaps it's because life has been an unending whirlwind lately, a blur of responsibilities and ever-mounting pressure.  Her fresh endeavor into academia had consumed much of her waking hours, leaving her mentally drained by the end of the day. You, on the other hand, seemed perpetually buried under a mountain of paperwork and late-night calls. 

It's not an excuse, of course, but these realities have inadvertently wedged a distance between the two of you. So, on that fateful morning, when you followed her into the bathroom, you were a woman on a mission. But as you wordlessly entered the shower, a certain determination evident in your stride, Wanda felt the need to object. Her protest, however, was cut short. The feel of your lips on hers, possessive and demanding, effectively silenced her. Her knees threatened to give way, and if not for the firm grip you had on her waist, she might have collapsed. Instead, she melted into your arms, letting you take the lead, and well—

That resulted in her losing nearly half of her students for her first class of the day because they believed she wouldn't show up after being nearly twenty minutes late.

“That can’t happen again,” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

It occurs a few more times before she intentionally begins waking up before your alarm goes off. Wanda misses her wife, but she misses the life you both left behind even more. And despite finding satisfaction in her new career,  she can’t seem to stop resenting you for that.

-

Her period is a week late, but Wanda isn't worried. You both stopped trying to conceive before coming to New Jersey. However, it does remind her of something else she had to let go of and how it felt like you gave up on her too easily for comfort.

-

The stress from her new job eventually begins to take a toll on her. Stacks of papers sprawl across the table, some marked with red ink, others waiting to be perused. Her hand moves methodically, adjusting her notes, reviewing her questions, ensuring every detail is in place for the impending exam. Her back protests from the hours spent in the same position, her eyes blink away the fatigue, but she's determined to finalize every last bit. It takes a few more moments before she finishes editing her students’ first examination. It's late—far too late for her to still be at the university, but a sense of accomplishment washes over her.

In the middle of soaking up her minor achievement for the day, she suddenly remembers Sparky. He's been left for hours, with just water, and that she's supposed to get groceries for him this afternoon. Shit, Wanda curses breathily, hurrying her movements. 

She's about to shut her laptop when she hears a knock on the door. Thinking it's the security guard, she quickly rehearses her plea for just a few more minutes. However, when she opens the door, she's staring into the all-too-familiar blue eyes of Vision.

Wanda takes an involuntary step back, her pulse quickening. “Mr. Shade,” she greets, an uncharacteristic iciness in her voice.

He looks equally surprised, “Wan—Professor Maximoff,” he responds. “I... I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Neither was I. What are you still doing here?”

Vision runs a hand through his hair, looking bashful for a change. “I often come to the art room late at night. It helps me think, especially when I feel creatively stuck. I was on my way home and noticed the lights still on in this office.”

Wanda feels a pang of suspicion, even as she tries to remind herself that the university is as much Vision's space as it is hers. Still, she can't help but feel wary. “Well, I'm just leaving,” she says curtly, shouldering her bag. Before she can take another step, Vision's fingers encircle her arm, the unexpected touch of warm skin on skin causing her to pause. She looks down at where his fingers lightly grip her, and then up into his earnest eyes. She can feel the warmth of his hand, the roughness of his fingertips. 

“Wait,” he murmurs, his blue eyes locking onto hers, an earnest plea evident in their depths. “We need to talk.”

Wanda instinctively tries to pull her arm away, but Vision's grip tightens, not painfully but enough to keep her there. He steps closer, effectively cutting off her escape route. His height becomes even more pronounced as he leans slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. His presence feels overbearing, almost intimidating, as he places himself between her and the exit. He quietly closes the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence, and the room feels much, much smaller now.

Wanda's eyes dart around, looking for a way out, her mind racing. “Vision, this isn't appropriate,” she manages to say.

All he says is, “I know. I'm sorry.”

They find themselves engaged in a staring contest, with only the sound of their breathing serving as a reminder of each other's presence. Several tense seconds pass, with neither willing to break the gaze. Then, slowly, Vision eases the grip on her arm, his fingers lingering for a moment before letting go entirely. He steps back deliberately, emphasizing the space between them, a clear invitation for her to leave if she chooses to.

Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Wanda takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She wants to leave, to create as much distance as possible between them, especially when she knows what's about to happen if she gives in even the slightest bit.

She takes a shaky breath and, for the briefest moment, her gaze drifts to her work laptop. A flash of silver catches her eye. Her USB, containing the work she's been laboring on for hours. “I-I forgot something” she mutters, panic rising in her voice. “I need that before I go,” she says, pointing to the device.

Vision nods, not saying a word. Wanda cautiously begins to move towards the desk, but before she can reach it, Vision's there, his movements swift and silent. He suddenly wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The initial shock has her resisting, pushing against his chest, but it's short-lived. Before she knows it, she's letting out a quiet sigh, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He hoists her up effortlessly, seating her on the edge of the desk.

As she looks up at him, he slides his hands up, disappearing beneath her skirt. The faintest image of your face flickers across Wanda's mind, a ghost of a memory that almost pulls her back to sense and reason. But as Vision's fingers find their wet mark, Wanda's grip tightens on the edge of the desk, her eyes fluttering closed.  She can no longer recall the sequence of events that led her to this very moment, nor the myriad reasons why it shouldn't be happening.

Every bit of rationale, every thought of you, all seem to evaporate, leaving only the need to breathe and to feel. 

To just be.

-

Wanda remains in her car without starting the engine for a good thirty minutes. She left the room as soon as she could pull her panties up past her knees. She can feel the residual heat on her skin, how he felt inside of her. She resists the urge to squeeze her thighs together, attempting to disregard the stickiness and discomfort she feels.

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you. But as much as she’s drowning in guilt, she couldn’t deny how her mind keeps going back to Vision’s touch, the way he'd made her feel so alive, so seen, in a way she hadn’t felt in a while. It's maddening, this push and pull. It's like there are two sides of her fighting it out inside—one, the devoted partner who loves you, and the other, a woman who's awakened, yearning for something she can't quite put into words.

She laughs, the sound teetering on the edge of hysteria. It's an unsettling sound in the quiet of the car, an indication of her fraying sanity. How did she get here? How did she become this person? In what manner did she find herself engaging in infidelity despite your presence in her life?  You've been the guiding light in her life for so long, making her the best version of herself she's ever known. But still, how can she undo this part of herself she never thought existed?

Tears form in her eyes as she closes them, trying to banish the memories, to shut out the storm of emotions threatening to consume her. But they're too powerful, too raw, too fresh. Too real. And she knows she has to face them, to confront the reality of what she's done and decide where to go from here.

It's just past midnight when Wanda's car pulls into the driveway. She emerges from the vehicle in a daze, her steps slow and disconnected, as if each step leads her inexorably towards her reckoning. The door to the house opens before she can even reach for the knob. There you stand, concern evident in your eyes. Wanda hadn't expected to find you awake, especially not at this hour, waiting for her. 

It’s your scent first that reaches her before anything else,  the distinct aroma of fresh pine from the sprawling garden surrounding the house, coupled with the distinct smell of Sparky, suggesting that you've held him close most of the night. The protective, almost desperate way your arms encircle her reveals just how much you've been consumed with worry about her whereabouts and safety. 

Every time you’re near, every time she gets to hold you, it’s instinctual for her to break into a smile. But tonight, it's ephemeral. A tidal wave of guilt and regret crashes over her. She stiffens in your arms, the realization of her actions making her insides churn.

“Where were you?” you exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard.  “I've been here, pacing, worried out of my mind, and I couldn't reach you.”

It's the questioning, the concern, the love in your voice that breaks something inside her.  “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry,” she says evenly, almost robotically.

You raise an eyebrow, frustration evident. “You could've borrowed a phone or used the school's landline, right?”

She has to remind herself that your words aren't accusations. You're not out to corner her; you genuinely don't know what she's done. And in that moment, she decides that she'll do everything to ensure you will never know. 

Taking a deep breath, Wanda resorts to tactics she despises in herself. “Like I said, I was working,” she retorts with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, hoping the hint of condescension in her tone might distract you, even as it tears at her own conscience. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

Your reaction to her words is immediate, a palpable retreat, and she's overcome with the urge to spill every secret, every confession, if only she could be certain you wouldn't walk away.

“Fine,” you say tersely, stepping aside to let her pass. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” You don’t bother to hide the hurt in your eyes and her resolve almost crumbles.

“Sounds good,” she says and turns abruptly, making her way upstairs, her pace quickening with every step. 

In the morning, she offers you kisses as an apology, and you're blissfully unaware of the hundred ways it's steeped in treachery.

-

It keeps happening with Vision and she starts to waste away. On the surface, she seems to be taking better care of herself: shedding some weight, toning in ways that leave you entranced during the few mornings you catch her making breakfast. 

But Wanda is adept at playing it cool, brushing off your hungry gazes as if they're mere figments of her imagination. She longs for you in the same intense way she always has, but she's entangled in this twisted duality now. As she writes names and explanations on the board, she can almost feel the intensity of Vision's stare, a heat on her back that she's come to recognize all too well. Sometimes, during a lecture, she'll turn and catch him staring, and right then, she knows where they'll be once the session ends. She also begins to frequent places she's never been to before, corners of the town she hopes no one will recognize them in. There, they sit side by side, their knees touching underneath the table, talking about everything and nothing. 

And you wouldn't, not for a second, entertain suspicions about her hardly ever being at home. Because your love for her is profound, and your trust, even more so. Because she knows you're buried under the weight of your own challenges at work, and capitalizes on this knowledge for the time being. Because whatever this is, whatever she’s doing with Vision, she knows it’s temporary. She swears she’ll clean up after herself, the moment she can purge this from her system.

Because none of it feels as if they're truly happening,  and Wanda convinces herself it's just a hazy, erotic dream from which she can wake at any moment she chooses.

-

“Do you love me?” 

The question hits Wanda like a freight train. Of course she does. You’re her… of course she does. And she’s never felt the fear of losing you, the true love of her life, more acutely than now.

“Of course I love you,” Wanda says, fighting to keep her voice steady even as her chin quivers. “What a silly question.”

���I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” you pause, your voice quivering, letting out a mirthless laugh, “We’re still working.”

Her guilt amplifies. She's been so engrossed in her own struggles that she failed to see how it's affecting you. The toll it's taken on your relationship. Your insecurities, your need for validation, all because she's been distant and distracting herself from her own demons. She's grateful the shadows conceal her face from you, or else it would be to easy for you to recognize the truth, and—

“I just miss you,” you confess, and it stings.

“Me too,” she whispers, the words filled with layers of meaning she can't articulate. Wanda tries to find more words, something to reassure you further, but she can't quite comfort as effortlessly as you do for her. You've always been more adept at loving her than she's ever been with you.

“Good night,” you say, and Wanda detects no underlying bitterness in your tone. She almost wishes there were. It'd be easier if you didn't love her so unconditionally; then she wouldn't feel so wretched for the secrets she's keeping just beyond this room's walls.

-

She goes as far as asking herself if she simply misses having a cock inside of her, the thought nagging at her especially when Vision stays firmly inside her, holding her in place as he spills into a condom. She flutters around him a few more times before she slackens in his hold. 

Pushing away the guilt that threatens to engulf her every time they are together, Wanda wonders if this reckless escapade with her student is merely an escape from the monotonous predictability of her life or a deeper reflection of some unmet need. Vision’s bedroom becomes a space of both pleasure and torment for her. When she catches her reflection in the mirror he’s installed in front of the bed, she barely recognizes the woman staring back, eyes clouded with both desire and regret. She clings to the belief that once she figures out what she's truly seeking, she can end it all and return to you, wholly and completely. But the more she thinks about it, the more elusive the answer becomes.

Vision’s bony hips gradually come to a stop, and he finally pulls out of her. She feels the evidence of their recent activities on her skin, and is hit with an overwhelming need to wash it all away. 

“I need a shower,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. He simply nods, watching her intently. There's a question in his eyes, perhaps seeking assurance or simply wondering if she'll return to his bed afterwards. Wanda doesn't give him an answer, nor does she meet his gaze for long. Instead, she wraps herself in whatever piece of clothing she can find and heads towards the bathroom.

When she emerges from the shower, redressed in the clothes she wore earlier, Vision is absent from the bedroom. Instead, the appetizing aroma of food wafts toward her. Following the scent, she discovers him in the kitchen, incongruously clad in a pink apron over his boxers.

As Wanda heads straight for the exit, Vision's voice abruptly stops her.

“Wanda, wait.”

She halts, not turning around, her hand still clutching the handle.

“You act as if I'm luring you back each time, Wanda. Like I'm this puppeteer pulling your strings.” He casually flips whatever he's cooking. “That's not how it is, and you know it.”

Wanda grimaces, his words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “Vision, it's not that—”

He interrupts her, his tone dripping with feigned innocence, “Have I ever forced you? Pushed you into anything? Or have you willingly come to me every time? You have, haven’t you?”

She turns to face him. “You know it’s more complicated than that—”

“Yet you keep coming back. And every time you do, I think, 'Maybe she sees in me what I see in her.' But then you run, making me out to be the villain.” He finally looks up, his eyes pleading and calculating at the same time.

Tears well up in her eyes. She tries to speak, but he continues, overriding her. “You're an intellectual, Wanda. A brilliant mind. I've learned more from you this semester than years combined. Isn't it natural to be drawn to such brilliance? To want more than just lectures?”

“I'm married,” Wanda states with conviction, even though just an hour ago, that fact  held no meaning beneath the sheets. “I've made vows. Promises. Every time I’m with you, I question myself, my integrity. I don't know why I keep letting this happen.” Wanda's voice quivers with frustration and desperation. Vision sees it as a minor victory. He knows he's affecting her.

Disregarding the pan and turning off the stove, he approaches her, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to weave his narrative into her consciousness.

“That's just it, isn't it? There's no betrayal. We're not sneaking around, planning secret getaways. We're two souls who've connected on a level that's rare. Deep, profound. We're just... experiencing it.”

She takes a step back, shaking her head furiously. “It's not right.”

He follows, closing the distance between them. When she’s within his reach, he lifts her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Who defines what's right, Wanda? Why is it wrong for two souls with undeniable connection to explore every facet of it? Does it make us bad people to want to feel alive?"

She tries to pull away, her gaze dropping to the floor, but he tightens his grip on her chin. “Look at me,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Tell me you don't feel it. This connection.”

She inhales sharply, her resistance waning. “I do... but I can't understand why.”

He releases her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “Because it's natural. And maybe… maybe there's nothing malicious in it. Nothing deceitful. We're just... experiencing.”

Wanda closes her eyes, his words washing over her, causing further confusion. “What do you want from me?”

He smiles, his touch growing bolder as he cradles her face. “I want friendship. Inspiration. You've become my muse, Wanda.”

“She loves me,” she murmurs, a last-ditch effort to wriggle free from his hold.

“And you love her, right?” he challenges, slowly starting to unbutton her blouse.

“Yes, but—”

“But love isn't singular,” he interrupts, his fingers moving deftly, revealing more of her skin with every second. “You can love her and still find something unique with me. Your love for her isn’t lessened because of our connection.”

Wanda bites her lip. With every piece of clothing he peels away, it feels like he’s stripping away her defenses, too. “It's not just about love. It's about commitment, trust.”

He slides her jacket off her shoulders, his hands warm against her bare arms. “And haven't you committed to her in every other aspect of your life? You share a life, a home, memories, and love. What we have... it's different. It's intellectual, spiritual,” he argues, his gaze never leaving hers. 

“But there are lines we’ve crossed—”

“Lines society drew for us.”

She swallows hard, tears threatening to spill. “I just don't want to hurt anyone.”

His voice softens, even as his fingers deftly work at the last buttons of her blouse. “Neither do I. But sometimes, in life, we have to listen to our true desires, to understand what our heart and soul really need. It’s not about being selfish; it’s about being true to oneself.”

And is this one of her 'true' desires?

Before she can articulate things further, the last of her defenses and garments are stripped away, and Visions sheds his boxers and draws her near. Their skins meet, a tantalizing sensation of heat and urgency. Wanda's breath catches as Vision's strong arms wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, their closeness leaving no room for hesitation or doubt. 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

i'd love to see more from the poly reader x poolverine verse im obsessed w them

"I didn't realize your... roommates were home today," Your sister said helping the youngest into his coat.

"It's what happens when you don't call," you caution. "They live here. You want free babysitting, you accept the terms. Sometimes it's kazoos. Sometimes it's roommates." For now, you'd accept her calling them roommates. It was partly true. And it was less rude than what your mother had said. She called them your caretakers.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at you and you shrugged, "They're fed and in one piece. And Zach has part of his social studies paper done. You're welcome."

She watched for a second as her boys willingly accepted hugs and kisses as you ignored her, beseeching them to learn something at school and make good choices and she sighed, "Thanks."

"Call next time," you tell her giving her a meaningful look. You didn't live alone anymore. And if she didn't want her kids exposed to certain things then she needed to give you enough lead time to hide those things... Today she got lucky.

________________

"Shhh," Wade said, holding up a hand, "You hear that?"

"Hear what?" Logan said opening a beer.

"Silence," Wade sighed, sinking on to the couch next to you, handing you a glass of wine. "Holy shit."

"And that's why I like being the cool Aunt," You tell him yawning. "I show up late. I bring presents. I leave before the crying starts. And then I enjoy my nice quiet house."

Logan snorted and reached over to rub your neck as he took your other side and picked up the remote, "Nice little racket, bub."

You take a sip from your glass and stretch, snuggling into Logan's side and putting your feet in Wade's lap, "Not too shabby, boys."

"For roommates," Wade teased, smacking the bottoms of your feet affectionately. "Didn't know roommates fuck like we fuck."

"Sorry-"

Logan grunted and wrapped his arm around you, "Pause was doin' some heavy lifting there."

"Mom... doesn't approve. What dad knows depends on the day. And I think my grandparents would just drop fucking dead. So. There's that." You lean over and lift a sleepy Mary into your lap and stroke her back before resting your head against Logn again. They are who they are and you are who you are. You don't fit in with the cookie cutter perfect family they have and you haven't from the second you took your first breath. But you fit here with a variant and a mercenary and their ugly little rat dog.

"We could ruin Christmas," Wade offered, "Just go make out in front of-"

"Or," you hum, "we can leave well enough alone so I can still hang out with the kids and let them have someone around that's somehow less fucked up even if I'm objectively a mess."

The boys traded a look and Logan kissed the top of your head. They'd work out the specifics later but for now, as long as your sister kept her comments to herself they'd behave- mostly. As long as it meant you got to see the kids. Because it was clear it made you happy, and because; truth be told, it hadn't been too bad today.

Wade cradled one of your feet in his hand and grinned, "I got a question."

"Might have and answer," you tell him, hissing when his thumb hit a tender spot on your instep.

"Why do all the rugrats call you, Shush?"

"My parent's housekeeper calls me Sugar," you answer. "Everyone sort of adopted it and Zach couldn't say it- so it devolved into Shush and stuck."

"Stop it, that's precious," Wade cooed, "I thought they called you that because they were always telling you to shut-"

"Not all of us went to school thinking our first name was Damn it," you snort.

Logan smirked and let go of you long enough to light his cigar. "What'd she call your sister?" he asked.

"Honey. Or Princess if she was being annoying... it's just that neither ever really stuck."

[yowumi]

Hotshot surgeon Gojo x Medical Student Reader Ft. Hotshot Surgeon Suguru [ modern au ] TW. Pregnancy & Love Triangle

Shotgun Wedding CH. 01 | one night, forever?

Summary. Satoru Gojo, The states #1 Neurosurgeon, known for his wealthy clan. He was known for his success, parties, and his willingness to fuck anybody and everybody in a 10 mile radius. Unfortunately, one unlucky night, you make the wise decision to do what any hard working young medical student would do when faced with a sexy doctor…you sleep with him in which changes your life forever.

.

.

.

Warnings. Accidental pregnancy, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), love triangle, roommates (they all live together), arranged marriage, satoru is a bit of a meanie, plot twists, angst, smut, you only end up with one.

A/N. this is my first time writing a fanfic, although i’ve always wanted to! i’m always open to take constructive criticism or any tips to make my writing better! I hope you guys enjoy and definitely lemme know if you have any suggestions, read well luv <3

keep up! // ch. 1 // ch. 2 (coming soon)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

12:09

one, two, three…

this can’t be right, why do these all say positive, there isn’t any possible way this could be happening. You were only twenty two, this can’t be happening.

positive

positive

positive.

the plus sign on the pregnancy test is clear as day. you were pregnant. this had to be some mistake, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve got it on with someone let alone let anyone not use protection.

you’ve always been way too cautious, especially with your mother being a young mother herself, always so strict when it came to boys and using protection.

how could you fuck up this bad?

a tear falls from your face, before many more. you can’t hold it together, not now. you can’t be a mother? you don’t even know who the father is. this is all too much.

beep, beep

Incoming Call: King Nobara

you look at the dumb contact name you and nobara made up one night while you were drunk recalling the night where she had yuji bow down to her passing her drinks while pronouncing her ‘King Nobara’ for getting the drunkest.

You send it to voicemail, there’s no way you could face her right now. nobara would burn down the city if she knew her best friend was crying.

ding

King Nobara: omgggg im so hungover from last night, yuji said him and gumi had to force me out lmao

King Nobara: where did you go btw i was tryna find you all night, last i saw you were with doctor save a hoe 🍆💦

fuck.

14 hours ago.

“Oh my god i can’t believe Shoko invited us here, there’s so many hotties! Oh my god is that Maki Zenin” She slaps your arm playfully trying to grab your attention towards Maki Zenin.

Maki Zenin, She wasn’t a big shot surgeon but she was a quick learner, being the first in her class to get an internship at only nineteen years old, making a special exception straight out of high school. Nobara is a total fangirl for her, admiring her for being a ‘girl boss’ and her beauty.

some would even say Nobara had a little crush, although she would never admit it.

“aren’t we supposed to be here for work” Megumi makes a remark towards Nobara and Yuji who are already shoving wine down their throats.

“Hey man take advantage of the free alcohol, this shit is nothing like cheep shit we get, taste it gumi!” Yuji hands Megumi a glass looking at him like an excited puppy.

Megumi rolls his eyes and takes a sip.

“Whatever, i just hope I don’t see Gojo, he’s always pestering me about how I should let him mentor me.” Megumi gets all creeped out from the thought of Gojo.

Apparently he has known Gumi since he was a kid, they are about 8 years apart in age.

Megumi hates him.

“He’s the #1 Neurosurgeon in tokyo, it isn’t a horrible idea” You suggest, “Being close to someone like that itself is a blessing, he could totally help you out”

“Yeah i hear he’s like loaded rich! he could pay for like your dog food and shit since you buy that crap every day!” Nobara slurs her words and laughs,

Megumi has a lot of pets surprisingly, Nobara likes to joke that he’s ‘Snow White’. He really does buy a lot of dog food though to be fair, his dogs are huge.

“No amount of money is worth spending time with that maniac, I’d rather buy dog food every hour” He finishes his drink

This talk of Gojo is getting him worked up, “His best friend isn’t that bad though, I hear he’s a respectable man and good at his studies” Megumi adds,

“Oh what’s his name! uh Gojo-“ Yuji tries to think of who he’s talking about, the mention of Gojo makes megumi shoot Yuji a glare, “-OH! I KNOW! I KNOW! GETO!” he says excitedly as if he just figured out the hardest puzzle in the world,

Nobara cheers Yuji on, and you take a sip of your drink admiring their immaturity. Something you and Megumi can appreciate from them is how they always keep a light attitude. The pressure of school and work was draining and keeping a light attitude constantly couldn’t be easy.

You all look over to find Geto before Nobara points towards him, “oh my gosh he’s so handsome, you should totally talk to him y/n he’s ogling you like crazy! you need to get over that stupid choso anyways” She says grabbing your arm to motion you towards him,

“ugh don’t remind me, i don’t want to think of that asshole” You say, chugging down drinks before you could think any longer.

Before you knew it, Geto was walking towards you, you suddenly felt nervous, his presence was intimidating. Anyone can argue his beauty is unmatched, he has such a romantic aspect to him, looking at him looks like love itself, you’re struggling to keep your composure.

“Hello, you must be y/n l/n, I’ve heard lots about you, I couldn’t help but introduce myself” He says with a charming smile,

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I admire your medical expertise” You say entranced in his eyes, it felt like he was staring into your soul.

“No need to be so formal, you can call me Suguru if you’d like” He says while taking your hand and kissing it, you realize Nobara has disappeared somewhere.

“You should come by my office sometime, I would be interested in talking more with you soon, i’m afraid i’ve grown too tired to stay here any longer, have to hide before Satoru brings me into some trouble” He laughs off at the mention of Satoru,

Wow, Satoru Gojo really wasn’t a good influence, huh?

You nod and say you’re goodbyes as you watch as he leaves with a blonde man. Nanami Kento, Tokyo’s #1 Obstetrician.

You wander off barely holding yourself up as you bump into someone nearly causing you to fall over. “M-my apologies” You say slurring your words as you look up to see a tall white haired man, he looked like an angel.

His blue eyes pierced you as he smirks and says “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, i was in the way, how about I buy you a drink for my stupidity” He flirts

and it’s working.

You nod and he pulls you gently over to sit down in a corner, there wasn’t many people here, almost everyone left.

As you guys pile up on drinks, you both become ridiculously drunk, talking about debt and studies and about your career, until you both could barely think.

You both just sit in a comfortable silence for a while, before you see the white man slowly pull you into a kiss, his lips were soft and you could smell the cologne on him, he smelt really good.

You’re hand wrapped around his neck, you look around before going any further realizing you two were the only ones left. You get on top of him and sit on his lap as he pulls you closer, tracing the arch of your back.

He holds your hips down on him, feeling the bulge in his dress pants. The kiss deepened as he laid you down on the booth, placing his jacket under you for comfort without pulling away from the kiss once.

He slowly plants kisses down your chest, “you’re beautiful” he breaks away before unbuckling his pants and pulling them down just enough to pull out his dick.

He unbuttoned his shirt next to show his muscular body, you traced the lines of his abs with your fingers before going down to his v line, he groaned a little before lifting up the dress you were wearing to take your underwear off, grabbing one of your clothed plump boobs that were barely staying in the dress.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, promise princess, gonna make this pussy mine” he says as he places his dick against your core, feeling him twitch against your clit earning a moan from you and for him to buck his hips closer.

He enters you and he swears he’s seeing stars as he thrusts into you greedily, he’s slurring his words as he mutters things about how “it’s mine, gonna cum in this pussy” he says feeling himself become closer the longer he’s inside of you.

you haven’t gotten any action in so long, you haven’t even been on the pill, this didn’t cross your mind in the moment of course. Who would think about that when Satoru Gojo is saying he wants to cum inside of you?

“shit, fucking gonna cum inside, so tight, gonna breed you so well, say it. say you’ll let me breed a sweet little baby into you, fuck” he groaned letting lose of the little composure he had before.

“cum inside me, Satoru, want you to put a baby inside of me” and with those words Satoru whimpered in your ear as he kept thrusting hard feeling cum ache out of his balls, filling you up to the brim.

This happened about 3 more times before he had your drive drop you off at home where you’re roommate, Megumi had to carry you inside and he gives Gojo a disgusted look.

After laying you down he leaned down on the car door, where Gojo slowly rolled down the window and looked like a child on trouble.

“What the fuck did you do, Satoru. She is barely conscious.” He says with anger in his voice. He knew Satoru wouldn’t do anything without consent but he wouldn’t be surprised if he took advantage of his pretty privilege with drunk woman.

“So am i, Gumi” he says barely able to stay awake for this conversation.

“Whatever just leave her alone, she isn’t one of your girls, she’s my friend and she has potential to be more than one of your little interns” He says while walking off

In the moment Satoru was glad Megumi left because he was on the verge of passing out. He didn’t think you were one of his little interns, he was listening when you were speaking about your goals and dreams of being a doctor. He really wasn’t trying to get into your pants, but he knew Suguru was been eye balling you for weeks, so he already felt regretful for sleeping with you.

back to the present

you’re brought back from your thoughts when you hear a knock on your door startling you from your head as you take a second to clear your voice so it doesn’t sound like you were crying.

“You alright in there? i heard a noise” Megumi’s voice echos through the door and you grab your composure, wiping away your tears before opening the door.

you put on a smile, “yeah sorry i’m just really hungover, you can come in” you offer noticing he brought you a coffee.

you both sit on the bed before megumi breaks the silence, “Gojo dropped you off last night, are you okay? he didn’t make you join an orgy or something right?” he asks concerned.

You and megumi have been friends since you were kids, his big sister was your best friend before her death in middle school, ever since then you and megumi have been pretty close, you were almost like family. sharing a mutual grief and love for someone close to each other.

“No, he didn’t do anything like that, I promise” you laugh off and he stares for a while trying to find any discomfort in your words before believing your words.

ding

King Nobara: OH YEAH AND YUJI KISSED MEGUMI LAST NIGHT!!!! DONT TELL HIM I TOLD YOU

The phone was on the bed facing right towards you and megumi before his face turns red and he flips the phone over.

you’re face brightens at this news, “Megumi! you have to tell me about this right now, hold on let’s all have a group call!” you say laughing heading towards your phone before he chases you down for it.

You: TELL ME ALL THE DETAILS.

“NO!” He raises his voice a little, face burning red, “I’m not talking to itadori.” He states, looking away in embarrassment.

ding

megumi looks up with wide eyes, “Wait!” he says flustered trying to reach for the phone.

King Nobara: MEGUMI KISSED HIM FIRST

Megumi lays his head in his hands and faces towards the wall like a child who has been punished. “WHAAAAT” you say laughing as you poke at his sides trying to get it out of him.

“I’m leaving now.” he says walking away with hands still in his hands as he goes to find the leashes for his dogs.

you laugh as he walks away.

“Wait Gumi! quick question” you say stopping him, hesitated if you should ask him

He stops at his tracks and turns towards you raising an eye brow in acknowledgement,

“Can you give me Satoru Gojo’s Address”

he looks away almost in disappointment before writing it down on a sticky note before heading out the door, before closing it he pauses before saying, “be careful, y/n”

Now that you have his address, you head off to find his house

knock knock knock

Your nerves were going crazy, like at any moment you would explode. How were you even supposed to tell this to him?

Oh hey! I know your probably don’t remember me because we were hammered but you actually got me pregnant haha surprise!

What were you thinking, as if he would even care. If anything he was gonna tell you to go away or that you were crazy or threaten your career so you will get rid of it.

A rich asshole doesn’t want his life interrupted by this.

Before you turn to leave, you hear the door swing open revealing a familiar face.

Suguru Geto

He looks surprised to see you, he’s most likely thinking ‘how did this crazy chic find my place’

Damnit megumi gave you the wrong address, this is so embarrassing, you should just go home and eat ice cream while crying about how utterly stupid you are.

“Oh, i’m so sorry- this is so weird uh i thought this was Gojo’s house, megumi gave me an address and he gave me the wrong one, so sorry! uh i’ll be going now..” you say looking down in embarrassment, it stays silent for a while before you hear him laugh.

Why is he laughing?

“May i ask why you’re looking for Gojo?” he asks in curiosity,

You try and think fast of an excuse to use, what could you possibly tell him, there was no good excuse to be at his house, it’s not like you guys were friends.

So you do the most believable excuse you could give him.

“I left my uh underwear at his place and i came to pick it up but i was too hammered to remember the place!” you say, that had to be convincing, right?

He nods in amusement,

“aw that’s interesting. Satoru came home alone last night, I would know I live here as well” And now you feel stupid.

Fuck.

“So uh this is his house then…” you say,

Suguru nods slowly before you see Satoru call out for Suguru, approaching the door, shirt off and only in pajama pants.

His eyes widen when he sees you, Suguru can’t know about what happened last night, oh he’s fucked. He has to play it off like he doesn’t know you, it’s for the best.

You look at him in worry, he wonders if something is wrong with the way she’s looking at him. Suguru looks towards him with a smirk but he knew Suguru was pissed by the way he didn’t look him in the eye.

“You have a visitor, Satoru.” He says before leaving back into the house.

Satoru looks at you now, “Hey” he says awkwardly rubbing his head, he somehow feels like your gonna yell at him, he feels like he’s in trouble.

You take a baggie out of your pocket that showed the three pregnancy tests, all positive.

He looks confused at first before he sees it for himself, his eyes widen, fuck.

“What the hell are these fake?! I can’t be the father, haven’t you slept with anyone else lately?!” He says in a panic not realizing how aggressive he is coming off

You shake your head no, feeling tears fall from your eyes

“You can’t keep it! Suguru would kill me, your career is at stake! my career is on the line! It isn’t mine!” He starts freaking out, how could he fuck up this bad

“I can raise it on my own, this was stupid! I knew i should have never told you, you only care about yourself!” you yell before you try and walk away and he grabs your hand.

He takes a moment to get his composure back, to get himself together. “let’s just, let’s sit down” He says calmly not looking you in the eye.

You sit down and you both don’t say a word for a few minutes, satoru runs his hands over his hair and you lay your head in your lap.

Hiding the fact that it’s Satoru Gojo’s child would be very hard, his clans genes are very strong, your child is bound to have his signature white hair and blue eyes.

The only man with those features. It would be puzzled together with no problem, you don’t have any of those features. Would you really have to abort the baby?

You didn’t plan on being a mother but…

it doesn’t mean you didn’t want to be.

“I’m keeping the baby. You don’t have to be in its life if you don’t want to. I understand.” You grab your bag and stand up.

“I will be in the child’s life, it isn’t fair to just leave you with a child, i’m not an asshole. It’s my fault in the first place, I will accept it, eventually.” He said looking down in his hands, for once he seemed mature, like he was serious about what he was saying.

“Are you sure?”

He nods.

“Thank you for showing me, y/n” He looks up and softly smiles, he felt sorry for how he just stressed you out, the least he could do was offer a comforting smile, he wanted to be there for her.

“You live with Megumi right?” He asks even though he knows the answer. You nod.

“That wont do, you will move your things here, there are two doctors here and a maid to watch over you and Gumi’s place isn’t big enough for a baby” He says but it’s almost demanding.

“What do i tell him?” You ask, how were you gonna tell your friends this, Megumi is gonna be so disappointed.

“Dunno, it’s up to you, I wont tell him anything until you do so it’s up to you, you don’t need your bed and stuff, just get what you need, we can get it now” He says going in his house to get his keys, seeing Suguru looking at him from behind the kitchen island.

You walk in as he grabs his keys and look at the floor, still in your head about all of this.

“Where are y’all heading” Suguru asks, sipping on his coffee like a dad interrogating his daughter. Which in this case his daughter is Satoru.

“Getting her stuff, she’s gonna move in here” He says, he knows what he did was messed up to Suguru but he didn’t feel like he owed him an explanation, not now. He still needed to process it himself.

Suguru says nothing to Satoru and turns towards you instead, he places a soft smile of hospitality towards you, “Well make yourself at home” He says before walking off not even looking at Satoru as he walks off.

The rest of the night, Satoru takes you to your apartment so you can pack your things, he helps you and thankfully Megumi isn’t home so it makes things easier. Satoru would get a mouthful from him for sure.

Before packing the last of your things, you leave the money for the bills you pay and a sticky note,

What were you supposed to say?

“I’m going to be moving, found somewhere to stay, thank you for letting me stay with you Gumi, you have my number if anything, the keys are under the mat” and you stick it on top of the money before heading out.

The car ride home is silent, leaving you and satoru both in your thoughts. A man you just met yesterday got you pregnant, and now you’re going to live with him.

Not to mention, you are living with Tokyo’s finest and best surgeons in the country.

How did you get here?

.

.

.

A/N. OMG i just realized that reader wouldn’t be able to find out she’s pregnant just after one night but i already wrote it and don’t feel like changing it soooo let’s just not pay attention to that mistake…

TAG LIST: @jeannieboys @maskedpacific @muimuiwisteria

take me to the next chapter! (coming soon…)

[acourtofthought]

It doesn't bother you that Lucien is friends with the man who joked about his mate getting raped? Interesting take....

I want you to do something for me since you decided to come to my page and ask for MY opinion.

I want you to set aside your own personal agenda and really think about what I'm saying.

I get it, we all have lived different lives and are triggered by different things. In real life, SA is not a joking matter, it's not appropriate, it's not something to giggle about between friends. I never returned to a job the day after a boss corned me and inappropriately touched me and I felt too uncomfortable to speak up since he owned the company. I was inappropriately touched by a neighbor when I was around 9 years old, someone who allowed me to stop by and play with his two dogs since I loved pets so much. I consider myself lucky because neither scenario escalated to what others have dealt with but those scenarios still give me enough empathy to realize the fear of being put in a position where you feel helpless against someone bigger, stronger and who holds power over you.

But the ACOTAR series is not what happened to me or anyone else no matter how many parallels or connections some find. It's fantasy fiction and in fantasy fiction (whether you agree with it or not), things that are serious in the real world are never given the same weight as in the book. Take murder, torture, and using others as pawns for example. These things are done by the main cast of character and nobody bats an eye. In fact, the fandom applauds them for it, turns them into sex symbols for it. Azriel literally tortures people yet many are more interested in the size of his wingspan than the things he's done to people who are unarmed in his torture room. Since Jurian's comments are so offensive and unforgivable, how are you comfortable thinking torture is something it's ok for the fandom to turn a blind eye to when it's a hotly debated issue in the real world as it relates to torture of POWs? Since you're sending me this anon I have to take a guess and say you're an e/riel and that means you're fine with torture in books but not fine with SA comments in books though both exist in real life.

Onto your specific question though, how am I fine with Lucien being friends with Jurian after he made those comments.

Simply put, because I'm reading the story the author is telling. Your reading experience seems vastly different from mine because I'm choosing to read the story as it's actually being told whereas you seem to be reading the story you wish was being told based on very specific things that are personal to you.

If I was basing my reading experience on real life morals and things that personally effect me then I could have never gotten behind the Feysand relationship because Rhys did some pretty horrible things to Feyre UTM. He forced her to drink wine she didn't ask for, he put her in clothes she was was uncomfortable wearing, he forced her (while she was drunk) to dance in his lap in a way she was embarrassed to hear about and he coerced her into a bargain she clearly didn't want, going so far as to twist the bone in her arm to force her to agree.

But I'm not basing my reading experience on real world morals, I'm allowing myself to let Sarah take the reins. I'm allowing an author to lead me so I understand what they're telling me (so long as I'm losing myself in this fantasy world) , to shape my mind, to rewrite the rules. The second I step away from my book I am once again a law abiding citizen of this world who understands right and wrong but in the ACOTAR world? I'm just a spectator along for the ride. I forgave Rhys because Sarah wanted me to forgive him, because her explanations were to serve the reasons for his actions.

"Just because Sarah forgave Rhys doesn't mean we have to listen!"

If you've already decided that she's wrong, that you don't have to agree, then you're no longer reading the book as it was intended to be read. And that's fine, feel free to hate on it as much as you want, but it doesn't change the story she's telling. Your personal opinion DOES NOT CHANGE WHAT'S HAPPENING.

It's the same with Jurian. He said / did bad things, we thought he was a villain (just as we did Rhys) until Sarah told us he wasn't. Until the author said, "this is my story and this is the reason for his actions and now he's a good guy strongly connected to the plot and the other good guys in the series". You can feel free to remain stuck in the past, unable to move forward with the series but that's not why I'm here. I want to know the story Sarah is telling, not what nameless faceless person decides I should have an issue with because they have an issue with it. If the author moved forward and the characters no longer have a problem with something that happened way back when then what good is it doing me to remain stuck in past plots? The plot moved forward therefore I move forward. It's honestly as simple as that.

I don't use the ACOTAR novel to teach me how to behave in real life. I use the ACOTAR novel to teach me what is happening with these characters. Therefore when said ACOTAR novel says "Jurian good" I'm going to accept that because that's the journey we're going on. I'm not sure why you take such issue with a reader simply following along with the story that's being told, isn't that the entire point of reading fictional books?

[thebadboyfanclub]

What Would I Do Without You? (Lewis x Reader)

Hey y’all so I’m slowly getting my groove back and I am very thankful that you guys have been so wonderful and patient with me, this was requested by @jenthustiastic and i must say I switched a few stuff but I hope you can forgive me and still enjoy it.

To be the partner of Lewis Hamilton meant to have a spotlight on you 24/7, eyes like hawks watching and judging every move, however (y/n) had this peculiar ability that made it look like a walk in the park.

From the minute Lewis posted her on Instagram and made it official meant that he had sent the dogs that were ready to tear her down, (y/n) took everything with grace and remained authentic to herself, Lewis was nervous about causing (y/n) pain, he knew that some people were ruthless, he feared that it would get too much for her, she was relatively in the spotlight, being a stylist and all yet this meant she was dipping her toes to another ball game.

(Y/n) never complained nor seemed to be phased by the comments or paparazzi, she was a social butterfly and quickly earned the respect of the fans, especially since she had grown a habit of meeting them and taking their little gifts with them to show Lewis after his race, “the fans princess” is what they called her that had started as a joke and then kind of stuck.

“Where’s the lovely (y/n)?”

Had grown to become a frequent question from the reporters when they got a hold of Lewis, Lewis would always bite his bottom lip and slightly nod before his eyes started to scan the room for the lady.

“I’m here baby!”

“Oh there she is”

(Y/n) did not like to watch the games, it caused her anxiety to see her beloved man sit in a car that went faster than the speed of light, her heart beat like a drum and every sharp turn forced her breath to hitch, she was content with hiding in the crowds and spark conversations with the fans until it was over.

“Don’t you care if I do well?”

“I care if you come back to me in one piece, that is enough for me”

She responded calmly once before she got lost in his arms, their naked chests colliding with one another as her head found its place at the crook of his neck, Lewis giggled as her hair fell on his face, and with his free hand, he caressed the strands away.

(Y/n) was scared, the track had taken men’s lives for the longest and (y/n) who was a massive fan of racing was now linked to her lover which meant that she found the concept similar to torture.

Lewis slowly got used to her routine, after the interviews, they would go to a room, and (y/n) would spend about 30 minutes to an hour just laying with him, well… at least for the majority of the time, (y/n) still blushed at the memory of toto having to knock their door.

“Keep it down! People can hear you!”

He scolded them, Lewis and (y/n) had giggled at the time still when the adrenaline wore off and she had to walk out with smudged makeup and her hair down instead of the tidy ponytail she had walked in with she clung and almost hid behind Lewis until they got to the car.

“We are never doing this again”

“Sure love”

Lewis had responded, knowing well inside that (y/n) was just experiencing the guilt of the moment, Lewis relished that he got to tease parts out of her that she did not know existed.

(Y/n) and Lewis were both fire holders, passion brought them together and the minute one even graced a finger on the other's skin it resembled a match lighting up, the one held the other as close as humanly possible and their eyes would speak the dirty words that they could not publicly even whisper even though Lewis was not one to shy away from leaning against her ear while she giggled after she had a bit too much wine at the dinner table.

“(Y/n)! Hi”

“Can you take this for Lewis?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“Can I have a picture?”

“Are you excited?”

Fans stumbled upon one another as (y/n) started to approach them with a grant smile, the Qatar Grand Prix was one of the most challenging among them, Lewis was nervous which caused (y/n) to be a bit wary, so she was always worked, walked up to the fans to take her mind off the track and hopefully time would pass fast.

This time it was different and as soon as her ears got used to the voices everyone went silent then her heart clenched inside her chest, her eyes snapped to where everyone was looking and she was met with a car that looked familiar spin out.

“No”

(Y/n) whispered, this couldn’t be, her hands mashed into fists and thankfully one of the bodyguards that Lewis had hired to keep an eye on her sensed that this would not go well, she had to be taken out of the public grasp.

The man’s arms softly went up to her biceps before he guided her back to the room so she could wait for her love, though her mind would not let her rest and she feared for the worst.

“Is he ok? Do we know if he is ok?”

“Sir Lewis is fine miss, please let us escort you”

(Y/n) complied and the only thing that could be heard were her footsteps until she got inside the room they had told her to wait on, her heels clicking on the floor as she went up and down the room, even if he was alright to be taken out so quickly was not the outcome anyone would have hopped.

The sound of the doorknob twisting forced her to a halt and then before Lewis could walk inside fully (y/n) had thrown herself in his arms, Lewis even if he was taken aback by it and took a step back responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and closing the door behind him.

“You are safe”

“I hope I didn’t scare you a lot”

“No, no, no, I’m fine, I just- what happened?”

“Russel didn’t let me pass him, he took me out”

“Took you out? How?”

“He-“

Lewis stopped himself from getting riled up, he closed his eyes to take a sharp inhale through the nose and then slowly let it out from his mouth, his grip semi-loosened on her and his one hand went up to take the hair out of her face that were misplaced from the force of her running into him full force.

“It doesn’t matter”

“yes it does, talk to me”

A smile appeared on his lips, he took her by her hand and directed her to the couch, (y/n) had always been a person to show love via physical touch, so when she straddled him Lewis did not think of it even for a second, (y/n) placed her cheek on his shoulder and Lewis thought it would be better if he leaned back so he was propped up with the support of the couch.

“It was the first round, I went to get the lead from the side, and then… I was out because Rusell-“

“I’m going to ask you this… are you sure it was his fault?”

“Yes, he should have let me through”

“What if he couldn’t? First rounds are crowded baby, perhaps he didn’t mean it”

“I am-“

“Unharmed, and you have already proved yourself and how skilled you are, Russel is young and your teammate”

“So that gives him immunity into doing whatever?”

“He drove himself into a wall if you recall, remember how embarrassed and disappointed he was?”

“Yes when only you came to see me on the paddock because everyone was consoling him”

(Y/n) lifted her head to be able to look him straight in the eyes, Lewis was feeling threatened, Russell had potential and he was breathing down Lewis's neck, she could detect the certain sense of failure in his chocolate hues.

Lewis scoffed as he lifted her as gently as possible so he could stand up and away from her, Lewis had years of experience on his back, yet when it came to (y/n) he felt powerless, she hadn’t even tried hard enough and he had revealed everything to her.

(Y/n) only followed him and slightly tugged at his hand so he could turn to face her again, a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips after she raised her hand to caress his cheek, Lewis exhaled as his shoulders relaxed once her warm flesh covered his.

“You can’t hide from me, you know better than that”

“I wanted to do well alright, is that so bad?”

“No, that is healthy, but we both know you can get competitive sometimes, give him some grace, you were in his shoes once”

“You should be on my side”

“You did not ask me to be yours because I was a kiss ass”

“No, smart mouth”

“All that I’m saying is that I care that you are here with me, however, it would not be right if I sat here and caress your pride and let you be wrong, is that what you want?”

“No”

“Good”

(Y/n) placed a sweet kiss on his lips that escalated into a butterfly one, her arms snaked around Lewis’s neck while he slid down from her waist and grabbed onto her tightly.

A playful giggle was heard by her before she pulled away a few inches so she could wipe the grace of lip gloss she had left on his lips with her thumb.

“Naughty boy”

“Always”

“No, we are not doing this it’s too damn hot in here”

“We will blast the air condition in the car after”

“I am not sweating out this makeup Hamilton and you have some making-up to do”

“Now?”

“Well I am assuming he is still racing but yes, we will wait together and you will own your mistakes”

“Must you always go against me?”

“Must you always be so difficult?”

Lewis kissed his teeth at her comeback, (y/n) had become Lewis’s lighthouse at a fast pace, she was a person he would seek every time something would not sit right with him, her hug, her wisdom, her smile of reassurance, her addicting scent as she wrapped herself around him at night.

Something about her soothed him to the core to the point that he could not rest well if she was not laying next to him(y/n) was his second in command and he secretly admired her calm attitude.

Lewis would often think about the times (y/n) would reminisce over her past self, how she was hot-tempered and argumentative, she had confessed that it was a facade she had created like an alter ego to protect her true colors, and there had been a few moments that he had witnessed her eyes glistening with anger, her slick tongue, it was usually when she felt threatened or people crossed someone she loved.

“What would I do without you?”

“Just argue with people for no reason I presume”

“You are being mean”

“Would you rather I lie to you?”

Lewis's smile brightened the room and his face and (y/n) pulled him for a tight embrace, she wondered if there was any way she could get even closer to him like the water of the ocean sank in the sand after a wave, his heartbeat was the most melodic sound for her ears, well, after his voice of course.

(Y/n) had always been a dreamer, from a young age she had filled her heart with hope to find her soulmate, someone to share her light and darkness, that one person that would feel like her fuzzy blanket, friends called her delusional and precious relationships called her suffocating and emotional, Lewis relished it, the small little details that showed how grand her soul and love was.

“There will be other races”

“I know”

“Do you want to speak on this some more”

“Not really”

“Alright, let’s go find George and then we can have a nice bubble bath, perhaps some lavender oil will help”

“Oh I love it when you talk essential oils to me”

Requests are open!

[dilfismz]

The Best Comfort

Pairing: William Afton X innocent! Virgin! reader (neighbor au)

Description: William is a vile, disgusting man and he knows it, he definitely knows it. How shameful of him to lust for the young pretty thing living next door. But, how could he not. She’s such a naive, innocent, pretty girl, practically begging to be used by her perv neighbor.

Warnings!!: Age gap (considerable but legal), loss of virginity, corruption kink, manipulation, unprotected sex, breeding, creepy behavior from William, implied size difference if you squint, and piv sex.

Since the day you first moved in Will knew he had to have you. Your cute innocent looking face framed with two braids , helping your parents move boxes into the new house. The way you bit your lip as you carried a particularly heavier box immediately left William with a tent in his pants. He knew he had to do something, find some sort of way to work his way into your life. Some way that he could ruin you for anyone else, touch you and make you his forever.

It wasn’t until his other neighbors, a friendly married couple brought brownies to your front door did he come up with a plan. He decided against more sweets and chose to give a gift of wine. This was a perfect plan for him, he would wait until you were home alone to knock on your front door. He’d get to know you, start manipulating you into trusting him, and the wine was a good way of discreetly asking your age.

——————————————————————

It wasn’t until the next weekend, a brisk fall Sunday that William follows through with his plan. Your parents had just left for church and William all but jumps at the opportunity. He trudges up to your doorstep, holding a glass of Pinot Grigio in his left hand, knocking with his right.

“H-hello”, you stammer out, groggily opening the door.

“Hey there, neighbor”, he sickly smiles, handing you the glass.

“Oh, thanks”, you let out shyly, your face turning a bright shade of red.

“Well…aren’t you gonna invite me in to share that…”?, he asks.

“O-oh you can come in but I probably shouldn’t drink any of that, I’m not twenty-one for a few months yet”

What a good girl, he thinks to himself as you let him in. He follows you to the kitchen, sitting across from you at the counter. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, looking down at the ground.

“Tell me your name, hun”, he commands.

“Y/n”, you reply quickly, looking into his eyes for a slight second.

Such a pretty name, he thinks to himself. “Sorry for inviting myself in, I like getting to know my neighbors”, William lies.

The rest of your little “visit” is rather awkward but you can feel yourself opening up to the older man. He leaves a few minutes before your parents get home, bidding you adieu with a small smile and wave. He’s determined to slowly weasel his way into your life, gaining your trust and adoration.

He’s been working at this for weeks and already feels you growing fonder of him.

A few days after your initial meeting he’d seen you raking leaves in your front yard. Of course he just happened to be getting his mail at the same time. You spotted him and sent him a shy wave. He smiled in response and started a small conversation, slowly but surely gaining your trust.

A few days after that you were conveniently walking your dog at the same time William was mowing his lawn. When you and your dog walked in front of his house William asked you if he could pet the little guy. Of course, being the sweet girl you are, you allow him to. Will keeps complimenting the dog calling him “so cute” and “how adorable”, even saying he has “such innocent little features”. Although you’re not quite sure why he seemed to be looking at you while saying all these things.

Finally, things fall into place for William even sooner than expected when he hears a knock on his door. You’re standing on his porch with tears in your eyes. He invites you in, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to the couch. He hates to see you upset. But he loves the fact that you already trust him so much.

“What’s going on sweetheart?”

You sniffle and stutter out, “I-… It’s just stupid, it’s not that big of a deal”.

William sits down next to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Oh honey, if you’re this upset it is important”.

You explain to him why you’re upset. How you got into a stupid argument with your parents and just wanted out of the house for a bit. You didn’t know where else to go…

“I’m glad you came to me, I know just the thing to distract you for a bit”, William blurts out, a smile etched on his face.

You are curious and excited to see what he has in mind. You think of all the different things to expect…maybe food, a movie…

What you weren’t expecting was for William to reach over and cup your face with his hand. You freeze at this surprisingly intimate gesture and shift a bit uncomfortably.

“You ever been kissed, sweet thing?”

“No, I don’t talk to many guys”, you admit, wondering why he’d ask such a bizarre question.

Oh, what an innocent little doll, he thinks to himself before making his move. William moves his body closer to yours, his breath fanning against your forehead. He finally closed the distance between your lips and shares a short but sweet kiss with you.

You pull away, a look of confusion evident on your face. “Why did you do that?”, you ask in genuine shock.

“I just wanna make you feel good. I wanna make you forget about everything for a little bit, is that okay?”

“Yes but…isn’t this a bit inappropriate?”

“Just trust me bunny, I know what’s best for you”.

William leans in again, tangling his hands in your hair while peppering your neck with light kisses. You feel a strange warmth resonate inside your core as his beard scratches you. Suddenly, as he starts to suck gently on your neck you let out a low moan. You’ve never made a noise quite like it.

This spurs William on and shifts his weight to hover above you, your back pressed against the couch. You grind your hips up, searching desperately for some sort of friction.

“It sure doesn’t look like you’ve never done this before…”, William trails off. His hands are quickly moving to remove your shirt, revealing your bare tits.

“Mmm no bra…what a little tease”.

“I-“, you start to protest but are shut up by the feeling of lips exploring your chest. William leaves dark purple marks on the blank canvas of your body, claiming you as his.

He pulls down your leggings revealing cute white panties with a little bow. He rubs your clit through the fabric and you almost cum on the spot.

“Aw babygirl, you don’t play down there much, do you?”

“N-no I don’t”

“Mm I’ll go slow”

William pulls down your panties slowly, growing even harder at the sight of your glistening sex. He makes a silent oath to himself to spend hours eating you out sometime.

You wince as William slowly slides one of his thick digits into you, stretching you out. The stretch burns but you can already feel a coil of pleasure building up inside of you.

He adds a second digit, stroking your insides slowly. You grip the couch behind you, already finishing all over his fingers. He pulls them out of you and brings them up to his lips, tasting your cream.

“Mmm, you’ve never done that before, have you?”

You’re still almost writhing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “N-no…wanna make you feel like this too”. You admit, your face turning bright red at the admission.

“Let me teach you, bunny”

You nod your head and follow his lead. He tells you to kneel on the ground and await instruction. William unbuckles his belt excitedly, slipping it through the loops.

“Take my pants off and pull my cock out, hunny”.

You do as he says, mouth practically agape as his hard member springs up to his stomach. “Touch it…lick it a little bit”, you hear his voice say from above.

You nod and leave a few kitten licks on his tip, his precum leaking out. You start to lick the entirety of him, touching his base shyly with your hand.

“Good job, you’re doing so good. You can wrap your lips around it”.

You wrap your lips around the tip, looking up at him for reassurance. William runs his fingers through your hair, urging you forward a bit.

You’re now halfway up his cock, already gagging around the unusual intrusion. You begin to bob your head, hallowing your cheeks. William immediately groans at this, pulling your hair a bit. This continues for a few minutes and William’s groans slowly grow louder.

“Alright little one, you can stop for now… we can do that again soon”, William promises.

You nod shyly and stand up, searching for your discarded clothes. “We’re not done yet, don’t you wanna make me feel good?”, William questions as he watches you.

“Y-yeah, I do”.

He smiles and grabs your wrist, guiding you back onto the couch. He pushes you down and you’re lying flat against the couch, waiting for his next move.

He lines his cock up with your entrance looking down at you, “this might hurt a bit but the pain will go away, bunny”.

Your eyes widen as he forces himself inside of your tight walls. You let out a high pitched squeak, surprised by the mix of pain and pleasure.

“Oh Y/n…you’ve got the tightest fucking pussy”, William grunts, thrusting slowly inside of you. Each thrust slowly works the pain away, leaving the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

Your eyes roll back as his pace quickens and you’re sure you’ve already finished around him. Your fingers slide under his shirt, definitely leaving marks for him to discover later. The sensation seems to send him into overdrive as he begins to plow into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuck, gonna shoot my load inside of you…”

Your brows furrow in confusion and pleasure, basking in the feeling. Suddenly William’s thumb presses against your clit, causing your tight walls to contract around his cock. You scream out in absolute pleasure, as you’re completely overtaken by your orgasm. At this William comes to a halt and you feel a warm liquid pool inside of you.

William pulls out of you, his juices slightly spilling out. He pulls his clothes on and scoops you up, bringing you back to his room. You lay limply on his bed, still whimpering from the intense feelings.

He lies next to you, wrapping his arms around you gently. “Don’t worry little one, I’ll take care of you, you’re all mine now”.

[lovelaurs]

my own silly mystreet characters headcanon list!

aphmau:

has the worst "hear me out" takes you'll ever hear. like seriously. she can very much point to a yield sign and say "would" to everyone's dismay.

knows every line in moulin rouge as she is OBSESSED with the film. she and laurance preform the elephant medley as dramaticly as possible whenever they watch it for movie night.

obsessed with pre-endgame marvel movies.

ao3 writer! she writes fics for the nichest of fandoms, so she doesn't get that many reads.

one of the few reliable booktok users you can TRUST will give you a good recommendation to read!

garroth:

obsessed with the movie megamind. like seriously. will talk to you for hours on and WILL defend the "sequel movie" and show because, in fact, they are NOT that bad.

can infodump about a topic he's interested in for hours on end.

actually really smart and kind, but ever since he found out he made zane insecure he tries to tone it down. he used to show off a lot but wants to make sure his brother shines as well.

carries stress balls on him so he doesn't use his strength unnecessarily.

always organizes group movie nights with all his friends.

laurance:

loves to listen to and read AITA (am i the asshole?) reddit posts when bored.

an amazing listener, will listen to someone for hours on end and provide insight when needed (perfect for having a conversation with garroth).

loves gossiping. he has really good hearing so he tends to hear others share secrets nearby. he's like the wine aunt you just KNOW has the most interesting stories to tell.

likes to go on vacations a lot, explaining why he is absent sometimes during big group events.

he sometimes returns home to his family farm to take care of it when his parents are out of town.

he often voluntarily babysits caleb to impress aphmau and garroth with his caretaker skills (he's a showoff).

katelyn:

she loves the show big time rush and watches it in her freetime.

OBSESSED with musical theatre and visits broadway shows often. if the friends she brought along even DARE to suggest skipping the stagedoor? they receive a glare that could kill thousands.

adores singing and often sings in her room when the others aren't home.

continues to play volleyball with her friends after a long day of work (she's a freelance writer).

her music taste can range from alternative music like waterparks to kpop groups like red velvet!

KC:

an ao3 writer as well! she and Aphmau gift eachother fics from time to time! she mostly writes x reader fics for tumblr sexyman.

has taken a liking to cooking outside of baking! she especially likes to grill! she even wears an apron that says "kiss the cook" as well as a hat that says "fish fear me women love me".

watches any and all trending animated shows like tangled the series, adventure time, avatar, etc.

has her own tumblr blog where she writes reviews on shows and posts art! her page is quite popular.

dresses in mainly lolita fashion! she has a flare for the beauty of style and loves to recommend people styles and outfits whenever they go out shopping!

travis:

calls katelyn, zane, and dante hot nonchalantly

has attempted.

dante:

loves to bake and nana teaches him all kinds of recipes to make. he supplies the snacks at movie night.

takes taekwondo lessons. "can never be too careful" he says while living in a pretty standard upper middle class neighborhood. why is he like this.

works at a pet shelter and takes care of the dogs and cats left behind. he adopts any that have been there for years, thus making his house full of many different pets.

the designated driver for whenever they go out to clubs. he doesn't like to drink so he usually takes everyone home by the end of the night.

travis (the actual headcanons):

actually respects others and doesn't harass them like he did early on (that was a weird trope and i HATED it). he's just a flirt and if someone he flirts with flirts back he gets all flustered.

the group gamer. spends hours grinding on all sorts of games just to brag about it on his steam profile. specifically a fan of the spider-man games on playstation.

loves to cosplay! he, aphmau, and nana go to lots of conventions together in group cosplay. their last one was the powerpuff girls! they dragged garroth along and made him mojo jojo.

can recite everything and anything about the ninjago lore. this man is obsessed with any lego product or franchise and has many sets built in his room.

practices talking to himself in the mirror every morning to give him confidence. he has very low self esteem.

aaron:

dream stan.

probably friends with dream.

uhhhh idk probably streams the song "mask" by dream.

minecraft streamer.

dream.

those are all my headcanons! i hope you enjoyed! (slandering mystreet aaron is a passion of mine i'm sorry)

[sebastianstangirl01]

Hi I was wondering if you could write a Pete Maverick Mitchell x daughter reader? I was thinking from the first top gun movie but it is your choice. Just something simple like he is at top gun and he gets a call from the hospital saying the the baby sitter had to bring the reader in because she got very sick. So Mav is scared because he just lost Goose and he doesn’t want to loose his baby too. Then when he finally gets to the hospital the reader is scared and all of Mavericks fears turns into the need to comfort his child. Once the reader feels better she is able to go home to finally sleep in her own bed but not without cuddles from her loving dad.

I was thinking maybe the daughter/readers age is around 3-4

Thank you and 100% your choice

Fatherhood Fears

Title: Fatherhood Fears

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Daughter Reader

Summary: When Mavericks 3 year old get sick and rushed to the hospital by Carole while he is working as an instructor at Top Gun, Maverick is beside himself with worry and immediately rushes to the hospital. He realizes that he needs to put his fears behind him so he can be there for his little girl.

Warnings: sick kid, mentions of throwing up, dehydration, the flu, worried Mav

It had been a pretty normal day so far for Maverick, he and Goose along with Iceman and Slider are permanently stationed at TopGun as instructors who only go on high profile missions. If you would’ve asked Maverick 3 years ago after his time as a TopGun student if he thought he would be here today, working as an instructor he would’ve called you crazy.

He’s Pete “Maverick” Mitchell for gods sake, the man that can’t be tied down. That was until his little girl came along. The little spitfire Y/N Mitchell was a surprise to Maverick, after things with Charlie didn’t workout and she went back to DC the pilot went back to his old ways by sleeping with any woman with a pulse. Which then resulted in the little bundle 9 months later of Y/N.

From the moment Maverick held you in his arms he knew he whole world was going to change, but in that moment nothing else mattered to him than you did. He welcomed the change, he settled down and got his permanent assignment at TopGun so he could get a home for you to grow up in so he wouldn’t have to miss a single minute of you growing up.

As you grew older a system was made. Maverick worked 5 days a week and had weekends off so he could be with you, while he worked you stayed with Carole since Goose and Maverick insisted that they had to live next door to each other.

Bradley was in 1st grade so he wasn’t home much when you were there but you always got to go with Carole to pick him up from school and you two always had playdates on Saturday’s and your families had Sunday dinner together. Bradley was like your built in best friend, despite the 3 year age gap. He was exactly like Goose while you were the spitting image of your father. It’s like a match made in heaven.

Days like today were ones that Maverick always dreaded, a new group of pilots were coming to TopGun meaning that instead of spending time in the air Maverick was stuck in his and Goose’s shared office working on new flight strategies.

“I think I would rather get stuck in another dog fight like the one after our Top Gun graduation than fill out one more paper.” Maverick sighed dropping his head to the desk

“If you’d work as much as you wined we would’ve been done by now.” Goose chuckled as Maverick groaned

Before Maverick could retort his desk phone rang he groaned and sat up before answering the phone.

“Captain Mitchell.” Maverick answered

“Mav it’s Carole. Listen don’t freak out, but I had to bring Y/N to the hospital.” Carole said and Maverick could hear the hustle and bustle of the er in the background

“What? What happened? What do you mean you brought her to the hospital?” Maverick sputtered off as he sat up straight catching Goose’s attention

“Shorty after you and Nick left this morning and we got back from taking Bradley to school Y/N got sick. She threw up a couple of times and spiked a fever, it was 103.3 so I brought her to the hospital to get checked out. They took her back a little bit ago and now I’m just waiting.” Carole said

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes.” Maverick said as he stood up

“It’s the one on base, have Nick drive you please. The last thing we need is you in here too because you drove like an idiot.” Carole scolded

“Ok ok. See you soon.” Maverick said before hanging up the phone. “We need to go to the hospital, Y/N’s sick.”

“Let’s go.” Goose immediately stood up grabbing his keys as he and Maverick hurried out into the parking lot after shouting to Ice and Slider to cover for them and that Y/N was sick

When they got to the hospital Maverick and Goose rushed up to the poor woman at the front desk almost giving her a heart attack.

“Can I help you?” She asked looking at the aviators who were still in their flight suits

“My daughter was brought in a little bit ago. Y/N Mitchell.” Maverick explained and the woman nodded

“Right. The woman who brought her in just went back a few minutes ago to see her, she’s in room 213.” The lady recited from the chart

Maverick immediately took off in that direction, leaving Goose to say thank you as he eagerly followed after his pilot. When they got to the correct room Maverick immediately rushed inside and saw his little girl curled up in the hospital bed asleep, clutching Carole’s hand as she sat next to her bed and soothingly stroked her back.

“How is she?” Maverick asked rushing to the other side of the bed and grabbing her hand

“The doctor just left. She tested positive for the flu, they said she was dehydrated and they have her some fluids and medicine to help with the nausea. She should be able to go home in a couple of hours.” Carole explained as Goose came to her side and reached up to gently pat Y/N’s leg

“My poor baby. Thank you for taking such good care of her.” Maverick told Carole thankfully

“Absolutely, she was so brave.” Carole smiled proudly

“Of course she was. Look at who her dad is.” Maverick grinned making the married couple roll their eyes

“Well we’ve got to go pick Bradley up from school, I’ll leave my car here for you.” Carole told Maverick as she handed him the car keys

“Just don’t reck the car please. Or drive it like you drive your bike.” Goose grimaced and Maverick rolled his eyes

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” Maverick said as Goose and Carole got up

“We’ll bring over some of my chicken noodle soup for dinner tonight when you guys get home.” Carole said leaning to kiss Y/N’s forehead before kissing Mavericks as well

“Thanks. See you guys later.” Maverick said as they left

Once they were gone Maverick turned back to his daughter who was fast asleep, she looked so peaceful and most importantly not in any pain or discomfort.

“Daddy.” Y/N suddenly mumbled as her eyes blinked open

“Daddy’s here baby. I’m so sorry you got sick, how are you feeling?” Maverick asked as Y/N tried to cuddle into him

“Seepy, my tummy hurt real bad but then the nice doctor gave me some medicine and then she gave me a lollipop.” Y/N smiled sleepily making Maverick smile

“What flavor was it?” Maverick asked and Y/N smiled brightly

“Cherry! My favorite!” Y/N exclaimed and Maverick laughed

“The best flavor.” Maverick smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Auntie Carole told me how brave you were. I’m so sorry daddy wasn’t here baby.”

“It’s otay daddy. Can you pwease cuddle me.” Y/N asked holding her arms out

“Oh baby, because daddy feels so bad about today you can have anything you want.” Maverick shook his head as he carefully climbed into bed next to his little girl, being careful of the wires and her iv

“Really? Can we go to Disney World with Auntie Carole Uncle Goosey and Brad Brad?” Y/N asked giving Maverick her puppy dog eyes

“I’ll see what I can do baby.” Maverick chuckled and Y/N cuddled into his side accepting his answer. “Get some more rest for me, then when we get home Auntie Carole will have her special chicken soup.”

“Otay daddy. I love you.” Y/N mumbled as she snuggled into his chest

“I love you more baby.” Maverick said kissing her forehead

That night when they got home as promised Carole and the Bradshaw boys were waiting with her homemade chicken and noodle soup. After they ate Bradley wanted to make sure Y/N was feeling better so he made her a card and they sat together on the couch watching Y/N’s favorite movie Peter Pan.

When it was time for bed Maverick decided to let Y/N sleep with him in the big bed as Y/N likes to call it since he was still worried about her and wanted to make sure she was alright.

“Goodnight baby sleep tight. I love you.” Maverick said as they cuddled up in bed

“Goodnight daddy. I love you too.” Y/N said as she rested on Mavericks chest with small puffs of air coming from her mouth as she let herself fall asleep

Maverick watched her for a few minutes to make sure she was breathing ok before he let himself fall asleep as well. Just so happy his pride and joy is ok.

[jbucb]

Chapter one: Cygnus

A/n: I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know how you felt about this chapter.

(Small update this was slightly revised without a writing aid.)

Chapter warning: self-deprecation, talks of virginity, some angst. Mentions of divorce, marriage, and military

Series masterlist // Main masterlist

 

I just couldn't believe it... My best friend just got married, and here I was sitting in this fold-out chair around the fire pit at a get-together, holding a glass of Moscato d'Asti. I should be happy for Samantha and Eli. I'd known them my whole life, and of course, I loved the updates that she sent her dad and others. But here I am, just a post-grad living with my parents while Samantha and Eli are in Italy on their honeymoon.

I watch the flames flicker and crackle. Chuck, the German shepherd, knudges my foot. That is all it takes to get me out of my thoughts. Chuck holds a ball in his mouth, his tail wagging slightly as he tilts his head. Chuck's eyes are the epitome of expressiveness, as if he holds all his feelings in the hues of his puppy dog's eyes, just like his owner's eyes.

I look up and around to see what the others are doing.

Sam, Bucky, and my father Steve are talking. My mother and Sam's wife share a conversation separately.

 

I decided to place my wine down and sneak off out of the fenced yard, with Chuck the shepherd following me up into a large field up behind the limewashed house. The hills roll for miles, some tree lines scattered across the valley, patches off it darkened by the banks of creeks, but it wasn't the view that took my breath away as I threw the ball for Chuck.

It was the stars; they were beautiful. The only light that wasn't from the moon came from the house at the bottom of the hill. Eventually, I sat down in the grass, and Chuck lay beside me.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind me, and only out of my peripheral view did I see him sit down beside me, but I still didn't look at him. I kept my eyes on the stars.

"That star right there is Vega." He starts his voice, gruff but not harsh; he sounds calm. "Below it is Deneb, it uh makes. " There's a slight pause—no more than a nanosecond—but I picked it up. "Cygn-the Swan," he cuts off the original name he was going to say. I move my head in his direction, but my eyes linger on Cygnus for a moment before my eyes meet his.

As I look at him, all I can think about is how beautiful he is. I shouldn't be thinking of him this way. He's my dad's best friend. I've known him for the better part of my life.

But how does the moonlight refract off his blue orbs so beautifully? The way it highlights the pale skin while keeping his faint freckles that faintly dust the bridge of his nose, fading into the apple of his cheeks, is so prominent, unlike how the sun fades out the star-like marks. But soon, my thoughts yet again fade into how I'm falling behind all of my friends. Everyone I've ever known is falling in love, and I'm falling behind—behind on a relationship, behind on my life, behind on losing my virginity. God, I would have been behind on my first kiss if it wasn't for that game of spin the bottle in my senior year of high school.

The bad part is that he can read me like a book, whether I like it or not. "What's on your mind, kiddo?"

God, why does his voice have to be that caring and his eyes that gentle? "You've been quiet all night. That's not like you, sneaking off, especially before finding a way to tell Sam and I your newest joke." Again, in a way, I find myself asking why Bucky Barnes has to be so perceptive.

"It's nothing, Buck," I say, but I just could tell that my tone wasn't cutting it.

"No, it's not." He doesn't sugarcoat his words. "Somethings bothering you, Dol-Kiddo; you can talk to me. You can always talk to me." He cuts himself off again. I knew what he was going to call me, and I couldn't help but wish he'd call me Doll and not just Kiddo.

We sit in static silence for a while before I say anything.

"I just feel as if I'm falling behind." I'm messing with my fingers as I speak.

"You're taking it all in," he pauses. "I wish I had taken it all in.".

I take in his words before responding, "You do?" I know about his marriage to Dotty, the military, and then some of the divorce. "Yeah, looking back, I wish I would've," he replied to my question before I could even take in what I asked. "I think if I took my time with all the big things, I would've been way happier than I was. That's in the past. I rushed and regretted it, but there's nothing that I can do about it now."

When I glance over to him, he is looking up at the stars and resting back on his elbows. He starts to speak again as I face him. "I don't know what's on your mind, and I sure as hell can't tell you that I do, but whatever it is, take your time."

"If I take my time, I'm sure I'll die a virgin."

I wish I could've stopped the stupid words that spilled out of my mouth, but it happened so quickly that I didn't even register what I had said until I saw the expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry." Oh, um," "I didn't mean it." "No, it's ok." We went back and forth for a few brief moments.

 

"We should probably head back before they notice we're gone." I start to say, It's almost like I didn't hear what I'd said, but as I start to stand,

"I could fix that." That stopped me dead in my tracks. "Y/n.. shit," he breathes in. "I didn't mean to say that," he says, starting to ramble as he stands. "God, Y/N, I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to."

"You really mean that." I didn't even hear him start to ramble. All I could hear was I could fix that, repeating in my head—my thoughts.

"Yes, Y/N, yes, I really apologize for saying that." He touched my arm briefly, and that snapped me out of my thoughts.

I look up at him, confused as to why he is apologizing. I arch an eyebrow. "So you're saying you'd take my virginity? I'd let you." I crane my neck back but then briefly look at the group's near the firepit, making sure nobody has glanced over.

It seems Bucky has the same idea, but he looks back at me, his eyes blown wide and his eyebrows raised. "What?" He sounds skeptical, but also like he's playing off the fact that he didn't hear what I said.

I match his tone and parrot his "What?" We stared at each other for a few moments.

"Y/n, if you're just pulling my leg, tell me, but don't joke about that shit," Bucky breathes out.

"I'm not joking." My tone is much quieter. "Before you say anything," I pointedly say, "I'm not a kid anymore. Buck, I can't stand being treated like one" or called one, but I'd never say that to his face, "especially because I'm not experienced." I use the palm of my hand to rub my eye.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I know, I know," he says, his tone gentle as his eyes try to catch mine as he speaks. "We can talk about this later. It's getting late, and I'm sure your folks want to go home."

"You promise we'll talk?" My tone clearly holding disbelief.

"I promise." 

[klausluvr]

Needing Him In Private For No One To See (Not Even Him) (18+)

Here’s a short simple smut for you while I work on bigger things. Enjoy 🥰

Klaus has been teasing you for a while, very aware of your desire for him, a desire of which he strongly reciprocates. But you, a friend of Elena’s, refuse to admit your lust for him due to your loyalty to her. After an encounter at the Mikaelson Ball, you go home and, unable to take it anymore, touch yourself to the thought of him.

You kicked off your pumps, slamming the door to your apartment behind you in your step. You could still feel his calloused hands on your skin as you locked your door, as you downed your final glass of wine in your kitchen, and as you ripped off your dress in a rage on the way to your bedroom.

Klaus spun you into his body on the dance floor, your chest pushing onto his as he held you tightly. You were at one of the Mikaleson balls dressed in a black sleeveless gown. Klaus intertwined one of his hands with yours, which were covered in lace gloves, and narrowed his eyes as they bored into yours. His other was placed dangerously low at the small of your back.

You did your best to stay strong, to refrain from giving him what he wanted. You kept eye contact as he moved your bodies together slowly, teasing you without doing a thing.

“That slick bastard.” you grumbled to yourself as you removed your strapless bra. Next were your stockings. As you bent over to remove them, another flux of desire washed over your body, almost painful.

It was bittersweet at best, disgusting at worst. You didn’t want to want him. In fact, you longed to hate him — but you just couldn’t. He was too charming, too funny, too handsome. You felt like a horrible friend.

Klaus, a man who sought after your friend’s death, who murdered her aunt and then almost her brother. You were a few years older than Elena, but your families were close when you were children. You had remained that way since.

She knew of Klaus’ desire for you, but knew nothing of the reciprocation of it. Of course, the Salvatores had their suspicions — how much can you really keep from vampires much your senior? — but Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie themselves had no idea.

You sighed to yourself, allowing the emotions to sit within you.

Klaus emitted a noise that you couldn’t quite put your finger on as he pulled you even closer. Everyone was to change partners every so often during the waltz. He had just gotten you back, and finally, he spoke.

“You look ravishing.”

“Well, don’t expect your hunger to be satisfied.” you said, scouring the room to check if any eyes were on you.

He laughed, all righteous and cocky as he usually was. “You say that as if you aren’t burning for me, love.”

You scoffed, refusing to look in his eyes now and setting your eyes elsewhere. “I would like to burn you, sure. Burning for you, though? Ha, that’s absurd. You’re delusional.”

“I know you’re new to vampirism, darling, but you really need to keep your emotions in check. It’s lathered all over your face.”

Rage mixed with your ache and in turn created a beautiful desire, alight with lust. You reached for your phone, but then remembered you had deleted his number. A gentle sigh escaped your lips as relief sank into your stomach, joining the mixture of emotions. What would happen if you were to call him right now?

You’d never live to hear the end of it, that’s for damn sure. But you couldn’t escape your want. After all, he was correct: you wanted that fucker. That egoistical bastard, that half-dog of a man who managed to wash through the masses like a landslide. A man who killed and slept with anyone he wanted to just ‘cause he felt like it. Again, the man who tried to kill your dear friend. Your friend who was but an angel. You, however, did not possess any heavenly qualities.

And you knew this. So you let yourself want him free of guilt, choosing to delve into your desire for him — at least alone — because it couldn’t be the worse of your crimes. You’ve killed in your time, and wanting a man you shouldn’t in private does not hold a candle. What else was there to do? Your thong was the last to leave your body. You dropped it on your floor before crawling onto your bed. You turned over on your back and bit your lip as you pondered what he would feel like.

Your eyes fluttered shut as a soft moan left your lips, your hands kneading your neck down to your breasts like your hands were his. You arched your back a little, your mouth dropping open.

“Look at you,” he would whisper low in your ear as he devoured your body with his hands, grabbing and pulling at your soft skin. “All riled up for me. Only for me. I’m going to ruin you. Do you understand that?”

And when you couldn’t respond due to the blurring of your mind at his words, he would take your face in his hands and as you again, his voice stern and sardonic. “I said, do you understand that?”

“Uh-huh,” you would respond with half a mind as he made you his. Your hands quickly found your desperate clit, and you teased yourself by tapping it gently, running your fingers down the area and back up again. A small cry left your mouth. You could not take it.

You licked your fingers, coating them thick with saliva for lubrication before they circled your clit in quick motions.

You imagined the callousness of his fingers rubbing on your core, his other holding your hands above your head, unable to escape. He whispered dirty nothings in your ear in between kisses and bites. You moaned his name, louder than expected, but it wasn’t like anybody could hear you.

You flipped yourself over, arching your back and spreading your legs wide. Your face hid in your pillow as you continued to pleasure yourself.

He would line his cock to your pussy and hold you at your hips. He’d smack your ass and you’d jump with a squeak. “Please fuck me,” your beg, your voice high and desperate. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.” he would say. “I’m going to fuck you so hard I’m going to consume every living thought and desire for the rest of your immortal life. The only name you’ll be able to say is mine.” And then, he’d thrust into you roughly, then again, and again, and again at an inhuman pace.

You grabbed your sheets with your spare hand, before it rushed down your body and into your pussy. You thrusted your fingers in and out of you, curling them as your other hand worked on your clit for him. You were still calling out his name.

He would fuck you with abandon, slapping your ass and pulling your hair, groaning your name. Your moans were coming out in squeaks and high gasps. You were unable to form coherent thoughts. He would consume you. Oh, how he consumes you without even being there to touch you himself.

When you came, you came hard. The coil within you snapped, and the only sounds you were able to make were blabbers and gasps. Tears pooled in your eyes as you rode out your viscous high, your legs shaking.

You wanted to feel pathetic, how unable you were to restrain yourself from cumming from thoughts of him alone. Unable to stop needing him like this and loving it so much. But you couldn’t help it. You wanted what you wanted, and you had put it off this long. You didn’t care. There was no shame in you. You only felt relief.

When you recovered from your orgasm, you turned over on your back again. You thought fuck it, I might just give in next time I see him. Thoughts would be enough for tonight — but for how long?

[edupunkn00b]

The Game is Afoot!

Photo by Ashni via Unsplash. Edited by edupunkn00b.

Rated: G - WC: 1036 - CW: None

Three weeks after Christmas and Logan is still working on his puzzle from Virgil. Is it any wonder why?

"The game is afoot!"

“But I thought you said Virgil’s game is a puzzle, Logie!” 

“Patton! It’s a—” The Moral Side’s head tilted far to the left, brow knit together in deep confusion. Breathing slowly through his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose, he nearly missed the quiver at the corner of Patton's mouth. He groaned. “Okay, okay, you got me.”

“So can I play, too?” Patton bounced on the balls of his feet, Watson scarf already tied in a neat knot around his neck.

Logan groaned again. “No, not this time, Patton.”

“Yeah, Popstar, I get to play Watson and Moriarty for this one.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Remus purred from his spot behind the television. “You can help me air fry fish fingers.”

“Um, do fish have fingers?” Patton asked, his perplexed expression genuine this time.

“Doctor Who reference?” Logan asked, eyes darting up from the frayed newspaper in his hands. Christmas had been over two weeks ago and he was still working through the mystery puzzle Virgil had created for him.

The Anxious Side chuckled. “Focus, L…”

“I dunno!” the Creative Side laughed, either not hearing the other two Sides or simply ignoring them, and grabbed Patton’s hand, his new—well, formerly new air fryer tucked under one arm. The thing reeked of a mixture of pickle brine and peat, and its once pristine white plastic casing was charred and cracked on the sides. A neon green mold had begun to grow around the control panel, nearly obscuring a flashing ERR-80085. “Let’s go find out!”

Before Patton could say another word, the two had sunk out to the Imagination.

“And then there were four—err, well,” Logan cleared his throat and returned his attention to the newspaper. 

“Yes,” Janus purred from the corner of the couch. “Don’t mind us, we don’t want to play your silly little scavenger hunt—”

“It’s not just a scavenger hunt, Jay! Ugh, why do you—” Virgil cut himself off and adjusted the ties on his hoodie. “Nope, not gonna engage. Not worth it.”

“That’s right, Tall, Dark, and Stormy,” Roman agreed from the staircase. He leapt over the side of the banister with a flourish, the new gold—was that real gold?—trim clinking gently with the impact. “I shall keep the living room safe from any of Janus’ dastardly plans.”

“Oh, no, you caught me drinking wine,” Janus slurred.

“Off you go,” Roman said to Virgil and Logan, pretending not to hear Janus’ mocking. Virgil and Logan exchanged a look. Selective hearing seemed to be a tool in each of the brother’s kits. “I’ve got everything under control here.”

“If you’re sure, Princey,” Virgil began, gaze trained on Janus’ oh-so-innocent expression.

“Wait, Virgil!” Logan grabbed his arm in a remarkable imitation of Remus dragging Patton to the Imagination. He held the newspaper to Virgil’s face. “Does this symbol represent the meter outside?”

Worry shifted into a wicked grin. “Only one way to find out, Detective Holmes.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Logan grinned and ran toward the door, Virgil at his heels.

They flung open the door together and stood on the sunny first step, just as Thomas’ neighbor walked by, well, more like was led by her noisy dog.

“Oh! Good morning, uh, Thomas?” she called as she jogged past, barely managing to slow the pace of her five pound monster of a chihuahua, Craig the Dragon. 

“Good morning, Betty!” Logan called quickly, stepping to obscure her view of Virgil’s face. “You’ve met my brother Jake, have you not?”

“Yes, yes, of course…” she agreed, voice fading. She was already three doors down. “Nice to see you, Jake!” Betty called one more time before Craig spotted a lizard in another yard and dashed after it.

“That was close,” Virgil muttered, peering around Logan’s shoulder to watch Betty stamp her foot and shout, Leave it!

“Indeed,” Logan agreed, scanning the newspaper. “Is this the only outdoor clue?”

Virgil nodded, eyes fixed on the race between the lizard and the chihuaha. “Yeah.” The chihuaha won.

“Well, then…” Logan adjusted his deerstalker. “Shall we?”

Another neighbor ran out to help pry the lizard from Craig’s maw and Logan and Virgil used the distraction to swing around to the other side of Thomas’ house. Logan began counting the meters. The final meter in the row showed was lettered LUC.

“Is that meant to be ‘look?’” Logan asked, eyebrow raised.

“What do you want? I was outside and in a rush,” Virgil shrugged, keeping watch around the corner. “L, hurry up, she’s on her way back and I look nothing like Jake.”

Nodding brusquely, Logan examined every inch of the glass casing. Finally, he found a series of tiny scratches. Running his fingers over the markings, he grinned. “Morse code? T-h-e—space—n-e-x-t—space—g-l—Wait—” He rubbed his fingertip over another section. “Ha! You thought you could catch me with pre-1874 Morse code!”

He fell quiet, studying the scratches. “C’mon, L, we gotta get back inside now.”

“Ha!” Logan crowed, triumphantly. He grabbed Virgil’s hand and dashed around the back of the building. “Let’s go through the patio. ‘The next clue is in the kitchen.’”

Virgil was the first to smell smoke. The pair exchanged one last quick look and raced to the door.

Before either could reach it, the patio door slid open with a crash and Patton stumbled out. “They’re moving! The chicken fingers are moving!” he screeched, smacking at his own shoulders. Embers sparked in his hair and on the sleeves of his catigan. A wall of acrid smoke soon followed and they all stepped back.

“Come back, Daddy!” Remus called, his voice and the tromp of boots growing louder. The Creative Side emerged from he smoke, arms full of wriggling—and burnt—breaded somethings. “I think I got ‘em all this time!”

“Remus!” Roman shouted from inside. “They got in my crown!”

“Oops. Almost all of ‘em,” Remus winked and ran back inside. "Keep your pants on, Ro Bro! Believe me—you don't want those little stinkers getting in there!"

The trio shared a moment of confused silence before Janus sauntered out, an uncorked bottle in one hand and a tray of four glasses in the other. “Wine, anyone?”

[sionisjaune]

🎁 brocedes... lewis yearning for nico is like hot chocolate to me

🎁mutuals get ficlets for the holidays!🎁

Lewis finds himself pacing the apartment, sweeping from the bedroom to the balcony and back again. He lights a candle. Fetches wine from the rack and sticks it in the fridge. Lifts Roscoe off of the ottoman when he hauls his wrinkly ass onto it because Nico has a no dogs on the furniture rule. 

“Sorry buddy,” says Lewis, scratching Roscoe apologetically under his chin. “You know the rules.” 

Roscoe puffs out a warm sigh and lets a string of gooey drool drop from his mouth onto the carpet. 

“Thanks for that,” says Lewis, inspecting the dark spot on the carpet. “Really classy.” He heaves himself onto the sofa, Roscoe pawing forlornly at his shin for not being allowed up. “Jeez, why am I even talking to you? I must be going fucking crazy.” Roscoe side-eyes Lewis like he agrees. “Don’t look at me like that,” says Lewis, pointedly. Roscoe just sighs again, too human-like, and lays his head on Lewis’s feet. 

Lewis confines himself to the sofa, counting the passing seconds and attempting to nap. It doesn’t really work. He arrives at second six hundred before he admits to himself that he’s too anxious to fall asleep. He could take an edible—that would help. But then he’d be down for the rest of the evening, too useless to do anything but giggle and paw at Nico’s chest. It’s impossible, missing someone so much. It’s only been three weeks. 

Lewis is staring at the ceiling when he finally hears the sound of keys in the door and nearly trips over Roscoe’s head in his haste to get off the sofa. Nico’s only halfway through the door when Lewis gets there, a bag under one arm and his car keys in his hand. Lewis pulls him through the door, tosses his keys in the vague direction of the bowl on the credenza, and kisses him hard with Nico’s bag crushed between them. 

Nico pulls back first, something like surprise on his face. There’s a bit of stubble on his jaw, and his hair is less styled than usual. When Lewis glances at the bag, he notices it’s full of pink paper, drawn on and dotted with glitter. 

“You’re in early,” says Nico, shutting the door behind him and toeing off his loafers. 

“Caught an earlier flight,” says Lewis. “Thank fucking God.” 

Nico hums, maneuvering around Lewis in the entryway. “If I’d have known I would have made my excuses. I was dropping the girls off at Vivian’s, but Amelie insisted I stay for her tea party.”

Lewis imagines Nico hunched over a child-sized table sipping imaginary tea from a plastic teacup. Something aches inside his chest, like a loose rib. “No—that sounds… cute,” he says. He gives Nico a tug on the sleeve to prompt him into the living room and onto the sofa with Lewis. He pulls Nico on top of him, draping him across his own body like a blanket. Nico laughs into his neck. 

“Did you miss me?” he says, muffled, his lips brushing Lewis’s jugular. 

Lewis wraps an arm across Nico’s back and hauls him impossibly closer. It’s a spaceless kind of proximity, like sharing a slim bunk. Every jut of Nico’s fits into every crag of Lewis’s. Somewhere on the carpet, Roscoe huffles loudly, obviously feeling excluded.

“That damn codependent dog,” says Nico, against Lewis’s skin. 

“Yeah,” says Lewis. “The dog.” 

[sillyxaly]

Still trying to randomly get my creative juices out. I don't need to write a whole chapter, not even a whole scene. Breaking free from what I think I have to do to do it 'properly' helps a lot. So below the cut you find two of my oldest ocs drunk. Dont steal this or whatever because I love and adore them but also they are just drunk and nothing special happens.

"You were right.", Skylar giggled, voice crisp and clear in the form she had chosen for the night despite the alcohol tainting her cheeks with a blush. She was leaning forward slightly over the table, the long ears of her elven disguise drooping a little as swirled the wine in her glass. "I should not have gotten you drunk.", she added with a chuckle. That finally managed to draw some reply from Isaac, be it just slurred noises as his head lay on the table. A demon knocked out after one glass of wine. What a sight. "Did you really never drink before?", she took a sip of her own glass, Hazel eyes lingering on her companion. Isaac managed to raise his head a little and steady it in place via a palm on his own forehead. "Did not.", he started, words still slurred but not so much Skylar had to suspect he was speaking whatever language they spoke on the lower plane. She noticed her own dislike for calling it that. She would need to find a substitute when she was less drunk. "Probably against the rules." 

Now it was Skyler's head meeting the table as she groaned from the depths of her heart. "Your rules forbid all fun! You don't need any of those.", she knew she would fall on deaf ears, only the wine made her say it anyway. Isaac grasped at one of her golden locks and gave it a little pull. “Needed a lot. How can I expect-", with his free hand he gestured vaguely upwards at the ceiling. "Can't even follow the rules.", his head hit the table once again. Now both of their heads were on the table, slightly tilted so they could watch each other. Skylar pointedly ignored the continued tugging at her hair. The golden locks were far too pretty for Isaacs intoxicated mind not to grasp at them. Was it greed? Envy? What of the sins running through his veins would that be? "Drinking one glass of wine won't make you a bad person dumbass.", she righted her head and sighed the way dogs do when their spoiled lives are so incredibly hard. "You know I don't say it because you don't wanna hear it but the rules are dumb okay?" "They are not!", Isaac was promptly so offended his head shot up only to regret it in an instant. Skylar in turn, surprisingly quick-witted for a blessed moment, grew out wings and stretched one out to cushion his head as it fell back down. "Thanks...", was muffled by caramel colored feathers which definitely were softer than the wooden table. "Look... I don't want to offend you but if those rules tell you, you're bad they are dumb. You're a good kid." Isaac had by now closed his eyes, a good thing probably, the demon should sleep off the wine while they were left unbothered, Skylar had some doubts he would be any good at running or flying away. "I'm pretty sure older than you.”

[jawritter]

If It’s Meant to Be

Pt. 8

Summary: Bad things happen to good people, that’s just the rule of thumb. But sometimes, things happen for a reason, and that reason is so you can find the person you’re meant to be with…

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!Reader

Warnings: 18 + ONLY!!! ANGST!!! 

Word Count: 3108

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Enjoy!

My Masterlist          Series Masterlist

‘Silent as the grave’, would possibly be a good phrase to describe the car ride back to Y/N’s little house that was nestled so quaintly on a quiet street just outside of town... 

Or would it really be a good phrase if you think about it? Because honestly, there was plenty of noise all around them. Just like she would assume there would be in a grave, if one was buried that is. So maybe it was a good enough analogy? 

In the grave, it would be safe to say that you would hear the muffled sound of the cars as they passed by on the highway. You would maybe even hear the muffled mourning of a passing funeral procession further down the line of silent tombs. Outside there would still be birds singing. Dogs barking. The occasional bombing of a radio of a young, carless person they passed by, going on about their daily lives. There would be ‘noise’ all around, echoing into the empty, dark, tomb that held the carcass of the one that no longer lived here on this side of the universe. 

Sitting in that car was almost the same. There were noises. Cars flew by them on the highway. Dogs barked on the side of the road as their owners attempted to walk them. If the window was down, there would be the occasional bird singing. The car next to them at the redlight had a loud thump of a base that even shook her rearview mirror. But inside the car, inside this ‘grave’ of sorts, not a sound was uttered between the two of them as she drove closer and closer to home. It was just the echo of life going on about them into the dark place they both seemed to find themselves. So yes, she assumed ‘silent as the grave’ would fit the pair of them perfectly. 

The only sound that came from the passenger seat next to her in her little car, was the high-pitched wine that would slip past Beau’s very high defenses every time she stopped suddenly or hit a bump in the road. At first the sadistic side of her revealed in the fact that she caused him at least some measure of pain. A twisted payback if you will, for the pain he’d already caused her. But the more he did it, the more the Omega inside of her took pity on him, and she slowed her pace down to be more careful of the stop signs and bumps. At which point, the car’s interior became deathly silent, all but the sounds that were coming from all around them. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she pulled up the small, concrete driveway that of her house, and put the car in park, her heart hammering so loudly that she was certain he could hear it, but when she looked over at him, sitting in the passenger seat with this head down, and his eyes shut tight, carefully breathing out of his mouth, she had a feeling that he could currently give a fuck just how anxious she was in that moment. Mostly likely, all he cared about was how much pain he was in. Which, honestly,  he had been shot, so that was kinda understandable. 

“Are you just gonna sit there, mouth breathing, or do you plan to come inside,” Y/N shot at him, doing her best to hide just how much she wanted to reach out and comfort him, putting up the same cold manners he’d given her. 

Beau looked at her then, and she had to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from whining at the dead, pained look on his face. It was enough to make her feel guilty for snapping at him. 

She would have almost understood if he’d decided to bite back at her. But instead of arguing, or even making a snide remark, he just nodded as he hit send on the text message on his phone he’d typed up to Jenny, she was pretty sure it was something to do with pain medication he needed from the pharmacy, and she eternally slapped herself. She wanted to give him a dose of his own medication, but she didn’t mean to be THAT cruel. 

He didn’t give her time to say anything else to him, he just grabbed the door handle and manhandled the door open on the car, stepping out onto the driveway to wait on her. 

Way deep down in the back of her mind, she knew this was going to be harder than she wanted to admit, and maybe, just maybe, she should have taken him back to his trailer and just stayed with him there. She knew that her house would reek with her scent, and she knew Beau knew it too. Him still having signs of rut in his system wasn’t, being here would probably just make things that much worse. But honestly, she could not make herself step foot back in that trailer right now. 

Even though both of them knew these things, neither said a word to one another as she turned the key on her front door, and stepped inside with him right behind her. 

Her house was not a large one. One bedroom, one bathroom, with a small open kitchen and living room floor plan. It was all the rent she could afford when she came to Montana. Now, she wished that she would have at least splurged for the two bedrooms. 

“Where am I allowed to sit down?” Beau asked behind her, making her jump at the scratchy, tired sound of his voice. 

“Anywhere,” she answered, shaking herself out of the daze she had let herself slip into. She had a tendency to do that when she was stressed. She’d let herself slip away into worry. Which is exactly what she had just done. 

She watched him as he slowly made his way over to the couch and sat down slowly, grunting as he did so with the effort it took to move. She knew he was in pain, she wasn’t an idiot, and it made the Omega inside of her sway her for just a moment. 

Beau winced as he tried to remove the jacket from his shoulders, and out of reflex, Y/N moved to help him, when a deep, warning growl sounded so suddenly from him, that she damn near fell on her ass in sheer surprise. 

Beau seemed a little surprised by his own reaction, and stared at her, wide eyed, and mouth moving, but no words seemed to be able to come out as Y/N slowly backed away from him. 

She couldn’t decide if she deserved that reaction, or maybe if bringing him here was a really, REALLY bad idea, and this was the first sign of it. Maybe Beau wasn’t who she thought he was, maybe he was one of those Alphas that every mother everywhere warned her about. 

The air between the pair of them was so tense, and so thick, you could have cut it with a knife. Neither one of them could move. Y/N’s emotions were reeling at a thousand miles a second. She was more than a little upset if she were being truthful about the whole situation, and while she had been no saint to him, she had been pretty hurt by him from the beginning. Still, she didn’t expect him to become suddenly aggressive with her. If she would admit it, even to herself, his reaction to her even just touching his jacket was more than a little hurtful. It stung really. 

Beau stood slowly, careful with his movements because of his arm, and also, she was sure he could sense she was afraid of him. “Maybe it would be best if I just go and stay with Jenny—”

“And when you go into rut, and have to be hospitalized, who do you think will end up in jail Beau? They’re not exactly going to come after the Sheriff, but they will have no problem coming after a no name Omega like myself.”

Beau’s nostrils flared and his lips thinned out into a line, showing off dimples that did nothing but spell out his discontent in a cute fashion. Which she was a little too angry and hurt to focus on at that moment, but she was sure they’d come back to haunt her later. 

After a moment of consideration, Beau sighed heavily then sat back down on the couch to run his hand over his face harshly. 

“You don’t want me here, I was just trying to relieve you of me, that’s all.”

She opened her mouth to rebuttal him, but as soon as she did, the doorbell sounded. 

“That’s probably Jenny with your things,” Y/N said, her voice tight with frustration and hurt, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Beau. She didn’t give him any time to open his mouth again and hurt her any further, so she opened the door for a very concerned looking Jenny, who wasted no time to step inside with her full attention on Beau. So much so, that Y/N just stepped back and closed the door behind her for the tall blonde that hurriedly made her way towards the injured Alpha. 

“Jesus Beau,” she fussed as she knelt down in front of him, and Y/N tried not to let it show that she was suddenly nauseated. “You’re still covered in blood.” 

Y/N did not miss the judgemental tone in her statement, but said nothing, she suddenly felt very outnumbered in her own home. Like a third wheel in this whole situation. 

“Well, I kinda had to wait on you to get here before I can take this off, I doubt she would have anything that would fit me,” Beau quickly responded, letting Jenny help him lower the sling and lift the soiled shirt from his chest and over his head. Something that his Omega should be doing, not Jenny. Y/N had to bite down hard on the inside of her check, the urge to tell the Alpha to get the fuck out of her house was suddenly almost overpowering, and the slap to the face that Beau was basically letting her strip him in the living room, when he woudln’t even let her take off his jacket fucking hurt. 

Here she thought that Jenny was trying to force them together. Now she felt like she was shoving herself in the way.

“Come on,” Jenny pressed, helping Beau stand to his feet as she looked around the small space towards the bathroom. “Let’s get you showered and cleaned up, you don’t need to sit here with this blood on you.”

Beau’s eyes drifted towards where Y/N was standing, leaning against the front door. What she was feeling inside, the hurt, the turmoil, the utter fucking slap of it all, must have been showing on her face, because Beau carefully shrugged out of Jenny’s grip, and lowered his gaze. 

“I think I can handle that from here,” he announced, careful to keep his head down and his voice low, but Jenny wasn’t slow by any means, and caught the hint right away, looking towards where his gaze had been just a moment before to find Y/N standing there, with her own head lowered, and suddenly very interested in the floor under her feet. 

“Oh, OH, fuck I’m sorry. I need to get out of you guy’s hair.” Jenny gasps, backing away from Beau as if he was contagious, as she turned to Y/N, who still stood rooted in her spot. “I really am sorry Y/N, I did it without thinking. I just— he’s my partner at work, and I’m to having too—”

“It’s okay Jenny,” Y/N silenced her by holding up her hand and stepping away from the door so that the blonde could leave. “It’s not like he belongs to me, and the likelihood he ever would is almost non-existent. If you want to stay and help him, I’m not going to stop you. Hell, he wanted to go with you a few minutes ago, and—”

“No,” Jenny said, turning around to glare at Beau, who suddenly became very interested in his feet again, refusing to make eye contact with either female. “He’s staying right here. I’m not going to get into your business Beau, because I said that I wouldn’t in the hospital today, but you guys, him especially, need to work this out. You’re his true mate, whether he wants to admit it or not, you both know it, and he needs to man up and do what his instincts are telling him to do and stop being a little bitch about it. That being said, he’s staying right here.”

“So much for not getting involved,” Beau mouthed behind her, and she turned again to glare at him, causing the Alpha to look at the floor again. 

“I’m going to leave before I hurt him,” Jenny said, turning to Y/N again. “If he gives you any shit call me, and I’ll take his ass back to the hospital myself, where I will embarrass the shit out of him by telling the entire hospital he couldn't bring little Beau up to bat, so now he’s back here.”

Y/N had to repress the smirk, cause she was pretty sure Jenny would do it, and judging by the mortified look on Beau’s face, he was too. 

“He’s meds are in his duffle,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way towards the door, giving Y/N a quick pat on her shoulder as she exited, leaving Beau and Y/N alone once again, this time Beau standing shirtless in the middle of the floor with his arm held in a sling like position, and dried blood on display on his side and chest. 

“Look,” Beau said as soon as he was sure that Jenny was out of ear shot, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I just— I just need you to help me through the next few days, and then I’ll be on my way. I don’t think I’m going to go into rut, at least I don’t feel like I am. I just can’t get this off of me without your help. I know you want to throw me in a corner, and pretend I’m not here, which I don’t blame you for that at all, but I can’t even get this fucking bandage off to get in the shower. I need help. Whether I want to admit that or not. Give me a few days and I will call Carla. She was my first Omega, and by law, if she will agree to take me in, I can go stay with her and Em, and there will be no repercussions on you. Then you will be rid of me. Can you just please help me for a few days? If not, and you really don’t want me around here, I’ll go check myself back into the hospital, and tell them it was my choice. Either way, I’ll make sure your hands are clean.”

Y/N ran her hands down her face before she glared back at him, angry, hurt, and fuck if every time he opened his mouth it didn’t just make things worse. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you around Beau. Hell, I tried to help you take your jacket off just now, and you growled at me! So how do you expect me to help you if you wont even let me touch you!!!” Y/N yelled, and Beau flinched. “You’re the one who rejected me Beau, not the other way around. I woke up alone in that trailer, and then was handed a Goddamn Plan fucking B pill because YOU did not want me to come up pregnant, and mess shit up for whatever obsession you have with Carla, or Jenny, or whoever the fuck! But DO NOT come and blame this all on me, like I’m the one rejecting you, because that’s not what happened AT ALL, and I will not be made out to be the bad guy in this while you play the victim!”

Beau said nothing, he just looked down at his feet, and slowly sank down on the couch. 

“NOW,” she continued to kick him while he was down, but honestly, it’s what he deserved after what he did to her, used her, then tried to make it out like all this was HER fault. “I will help you, IF you will let me. I’m not a heartless wretch like you are. I’m not out here to just USE you like you used me. But if you leave, if you walk out that door with Carla, don’t come back. If you go back to the hospital, don’t come back. If you go into rut, better order a toy, cause you won't use me again. Period. You are under my roof until you can legally leave, or find somewhere else to go, you will do what I say, and nothing more. I’m not a fucking rut bunny, and I wont be put through that again. End of story. That’s not up for debate. My house, my rules. You’re free to leave if you want too. I’m not going to hold you here, but I’m also not going to put myself in a position to get hurt again.”

“I never wanted to hurt you Y/N, I—”

“Well, you fucking did Beau, end of story. I don’t really want to hear what your reasons are right now. Now, sit still and I’ll take the bandages off. The clean towels and clothes are in the little bathroom pantry as soon as you walk in. You can bathe yourself.”

Beau did not argue, he just sat still and silent as Y/N worked to carefully remove the bandages from the stitched bullet wounds on each side of his shoulder. She couldn’t help but feel that she’d just drawn a battle line in the sand, and stupidly threated an Alpha to cross it, but she had to protect herself and her own wellbeing at this point. He might be biologically her true mate, but right at that moment, he was not her friend, and he was not her mate. Period. He would have to do a lot of crawling and a lot of groveling to change that, and even then, some things that are broken just can’t be put back together. 

Forever:

@demongirl1996​​​​​​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​​​​​

@jensenslady79​​​​​​

@spnwoman​​​​​​

@stoneyggirl2​​​​​​

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men​​​​​​

@stixnstripesworld​​​​​​

@fullwattpadmusictree​​​​​​

@nancymcl​​​​​​

@christycreature​​​​​​

@whiskey-infused-dreams​​​​​​

@supernatural79impala​​​​​​

@deandreamernp​​​​​​

@forgetthisbull​​​​​​

@miraclesoflove​​​​​​

@slamminmine​​​​​​

@deanwanddamons​​​​​​

@rvgrsbrns​​​​​​

@chevyharvelle​​​​​​

@i-love-superhero-movies​​​​​​

@lyss-dw79​​​​​​

@magssteenkamp​​​​​​

@lemondropirwin​​​​​

@squirrelnotsam​​​​​​

@hobby27​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​​​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​

@defenderrosetyler​​​​​​

@thecreatiivecorner​​​​​​  

@vicmc624​​​​​​

@busy-bee-angel-misska​​​​​​

@justanotherwinchester​​​​​​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​​​​​​

@idksupernatural​​​​​​

@lyarr24​​​​​​

@emoryhemsworth​���​​​​

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​​​​​​

@flamencodiva​​​​​​

@itmejado​​​​​​

@supernatural3002​​​​​​

@teresa-67​​​​​​

@thoughts-and-funnies​​​​​​

@hearteyes-j2​​​​​​

@peaches007​​​​​​

@bobbie3939​​​​​​

@vulgar-library​​​​​​

@writercole​​​​​​

@fairlyspnfanfic​​​​​​

@sexyvixen7​​​​​

@spngi​​​​​​

@b3autyfuldisast3r​​​​​​

@donnaintx​​​​​​

@maliburenee​​​​​​

@the-family-business67​​​​​​

@agirlwithdemonblood​​​​​​

@captainsoldiergirl​​​​​​

@twinkleinadiamondsky​​​​​​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​​​​​  

@impalaslytherin​​​​​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​​​​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​​​​​

@akshi8278​​​​​​

@love-jackles​​​​​​

@irmcpar​​​​​​

@pink-sparkly-witch​​​​​​

@siospins2​​​​​​

@herstarburststories​​​​​​

@mimaria420​​​​​​

@deanwinchesterswitch​​​​​​​

@charred-angelwings​​​​​

@pascal-rascal424​​​​​​​

@myloversgone​​​​​​​

@fortheloveof-jackles​

@eevvvaa​​​​​​​

@bts-spnlvr12​​​​​​​

@jxackles​​​​​​​

@lassie-bird​​​​​​​

@samsgirl93​​​​​​​

@shawnie74​​​  

@kaz11283​​​​​​​

@mlovesstories​

[their-destinys-writer]

Akuma Flashpoint - Chapter 1

Art by @carolgpr (thank you so much again for this fantastic work)

Rated: M

Chapters: 1/?

Summary: It was over. Gabriel was in jail, the butterfly miraculous had been recovered, Emelie was in recovery and the heroes knew their identities. All that was left was the sentencing of Gabriel, and they could finally, after eight years of superhero work, close that chapter of their lives. But when Gabriel escapes for one last hurrah, and akuma, things didn't resolve quickly. One ill-timed wish warps reality around Marinette, and she suddenly finds herself in a world where nothing is right, and Hawkmoth is winning.

Canon compliant up to Season 3, Episode 'Ladybug'. Miracle Queen never happened. Canon divergent from that point forward, but might borrow a few details from later seasons. Very loosely inspired by DC's Flashpoint Paradox (the animated movie). Updates on the last Monday of every month.

Ao3 | Wattpad

A/N: I'm super happy to be sharing this story, finally! For the record, I already have up to Chapter 10 of this story written, so it's not one that's going to suddenly be abandoned. I already have the end of it and everything, and if I manage to get a few chapters further ahead, I might consider posting more than once a month. But that will depend on how it goes. Enjoy what I hope becomes a wild ride for your feelings!

Next

Distorted Reality

It was over. After years of fighting, of struggling with knowing the truth, it was finally over. Hawkmoth was defeated. But at a price.

Team Miraculous never had intentions of releasing Hawkmoth’s identity to the public. Ladybug gave him the chance to quietly return the butterfly miraculous and let him move on with his life. But Gabriel Agreste was tougher than the smell of dog excrement under a person’s shoe. Even after Nathalie betrayed him and Adrien begged him to give up, the man refused. And soon enough, law enforcement intervened.

Gabriel was then arrested and made to wait for the justice system to do its work.

It was a bittersweet ending for the team, but it didn’t stop them from having a small get-together the day before he was convicted. Everyone arrived at Marinette and Adrien’s apartment as a team, for what they hoped would be the last time. There were kwamis flying about. Teammates who had never interacted befriended each other. But for Adrien, it was inevitable to hear forms of condolences, as if he had lost his father.

“It’s not like he was ever there,” Adrien complained at the end of the night, when the most trusted team members where the only ones left sitting around a coffee table. “How can you lose someone you never actually had in the first place?”

“They’re just saying what they think is respectful,” Luka sighed, pulling back the few bangs that had fallen down his brushed back hair. “They don’t know what else to say, and they don’t want to be rude to you by saying what they really think.”

“I’m sure that whatever they think, I’ve already thought of it.” Adrien took a sip of his glass of wine.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know that,” Nino added, giving his best friend a light pat on the shoulder. “But what matters is that you know and helped put his stiff ass in jail.”

Adrien snorted.

“They have a point,” Marinette said, cozying up on his other side, holding a glass of her own with both hands. “Besides, we gave him a chance. It’s not your fault, or any of ours, that he didn’t take our offer.”

“Ridiculous,” Chloé said under her breath, before taking a swig of the bottle she was holding. “Utterly ridiculous.”

“How much of that have you had?” Alya asked, as she took the bottle from the blonde.

“Clearly, not enough, if I can still understand all of you.”

“Half of that bottle and two glasses earlier,” Kagami responded instead.

“Snitch,” Chloé scoffed. She tried stealing the bottle back, but Alya gave it to Nino to keep it away. She huffed before standing up and heading to the kitchen.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” Marinette sighed. “After eight years, I was starting to think we’d never get those miraculouses back.”

“Hear, hear.” Nino lifted the bottle.

“It’s only too bad he didn’t give it up willingly,” Adrien muttered, slightly sinking into the chair. “Would’ve been nice if he had shown at least one last shred of humanity before getting taken.”

“Screw your pops,” Nino said after taking a mouthful of wine. “He doesn’t deserve your pity or good wishes. You said it yourself when we found out his identity. The dude’s irredeemable.”

“Alya—”

“Got it.” Said woman pried the bottle away from her fiancé.

“Hey, I’m not Chloé level buzzed yet,” he complained, beanie slightly askew.

“Pah-lease,” the blonde in question said as she entered the room with a new bottle. “You wish you had my alcohol tolerance.”

As if the universe wanted to contradict her statement, Chloé missed the sofa by an inch, her butt falling to the carpet instead. She cleared her throat and wiggled about, trying to play it off as if planned.

“Smooth,” Luka commented.

Kagami, on the other hand, rolled her eyes as she got up from her chair and took the new bottle away. Chloé protested, but her drunken state made her a pathetic fighter.

“The hearing is in less than twenty-four hours,” Kagami stated. “Do you all plan on being hungover tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” Nino shrugged.

“Guys, Kagami’s right,” Alya said dejectedly, placing her own glass on the coffee table. “We gotta be responsible for one more night. Marinette, I expected better from you.”

Marinette gasped. “How dare you. I’ve only had two glasses—”

“Two and a half,” Adrien corrected.

“Shh.” He chuckled at her antics. “I am the most responsible woman in this group. I am Ladybug: Queen of responsibility.”

“Until you become Lady Noire: Lady of puns.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m on the side of truth tonight. That’s Kagami’s.”

“Traitor.”

The rest of the group groaned as Marinette and Adrien playfully bickered. Although they were used to it, Marinette knew it was still slightly annoying for them. But she didn’t care. She enjoyed these moments with Adrien. It reminded her of all the reasons she said yes to his proposal. Of why she had moved in with him and often imagined just running off to city hall, instead of waiting for the wedding they were planning.

“I swear, if you two don’t stop—”

But Nino didn’t get to finish his sentence. There was a sudden collective emergency alarm resounding around the room, coming from all their phones. A sound that had not been heard for three months already. Everyone quietly checked their notifications, hoping that it was not what they thought it was. Only to be sorely disappointed.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Adrien breathed.

Kagami was the first standing to grab the remote. When the television turned on, they were immediately greeted by Nadja Chamack on the streets, reporting their worst fear.

“Police suspect that Agreste had help in his escape from prison. Unfortunately, they’ve yet to find his whereabouts at this moment. In the meantime, an akuma calling herself The Genie has been terrorizing the city, demanding Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses—”

“TIKKI!” Marinette called towards the kitchen. It only took a second for seven kwamis to zip into the living room.

“We heard!” Tikki said, worried. “We have to stop and find him!”

“Wait!” Chloé intervened, struggling to stand up. “How are we supposed to stop him when we’re in this state?!”

“I’m-hic-with Chloé,” Nino hiccupped.

“Just when you think it’s safe to drink,” Adrien lamented.

“Okay, who drank the least?” Marinette asked. Kagami, Luka and Alya raised their hands. “Okay, you three and I will go on ahead. Adrien, you get these two something to lower the buzz and come as soon as you’re ready.”

“You really think that’s safe?”

“We have to move before he gets away,” Marinette reasoned. “We don’t have time to waste.”

Adrien’s features hardened, as he nodded in understanding. Several magic phrases later, Ladybug, Rena Rouge, Ryuko and Viperion were running through the balcony doors and jumping over the rooftops. After several blocks, they arrived at the source of the commotion.

From their vantage point on top of a building, what they saw could only be described as bizarre. Some people were running away from what looked like giant versions of cute things, like dogs, cats, hamsters, and a snake. Others seemed to be… happy crying? That, while holding either objects or people.

“I don’t understand,” Ryuko muttered, her eyes scanning across the street.

“Talk about weird,” Rena Rouge agreed.

“What’s our move, Boss?” Viperion turned to Ladybug.

“We need to find the akuma first. Let’s split up, and whomever finds it first, call the rest.”

The team nodded, immediately running to separate directions. Ladybug, on the other hand, couldn’t help but search in the direction of Master Fu’s massage parlor: where they had last seen the butterfly miraculous. She had to know if the old guardian was okay, if Gabriel hurt him in any way to get the miraculous back.

When she entered the building where his parlor was, the first thing she noticed was how the door was ajar. Ladybug took a deep breath, holding to her yoyo tightly as she neared the entrance. She slowly exhaled.

BAM

Ladybug kicked the door fully open, just as it was illuminated by lightning from the window. The place was a mess. There was dirt everywhere from the plants. But most importantly to her, at that time, was the small old man unconscious on the ground.

“Master Fu!” Ladybug slid to her knees and took him in her arms. There was a drip of blood flowing from his temple, seeming to be caused by a blunt object. “Please, wake up. Master!”

There was a low groan, allowing Ladybug to release a breath of relief.

“The box,” he croaked.

The superheroine frowned, her eyes quickly scanning the room. While the phonograph was splayed across the floor in two pieces, the compartment containing the miracle box seemed intact.

“The box is fine. Whoever did this didn’t—”

“No.” Master Fu started checking his pockets. “The box. With the butterfly miraculous. It’s gone. Nooroo is gone.”

It was true then. It really was Hawkmoth out there. Whoever broke in must’ve entered when Master Fu was in the middle of one of his therapy sessions with Nooroo. The poor little thing had been through so much.

“Do you remember who did this?” she asked. “Was it Gabriel?”

“I don’t—I don’t remember,” the old man said groggily. “I can’t think straight.”

Ladybug immediately opened her communicator and called emergency services, giving the address they needed to send an ambulance. While they waited, she took several blankets to rest his head. She looked around the room, hoping to find any clues on the perpetrator.

Had it been Gabriel, or whoever broke him out of jail? Or both? Who could have such a connection with him to want him free? It couldn’t be Nathalie. She had left for Tibet once her testimony was given to the authorities. She was in charge of overseeing Emelie’s recovery in the Guardians Temple, thus had no reason to help Gabriel.

Neither Mrs. Bourgeois nor Mrs. Tsurugi wanted anything to do with them, much less when they knew it could damage the strained relationships they already had with their daughters. The Gabriel company cut all ties with him, and none of his employees remained loyal. Who else knew him well enough to feel sympathy for him?

* * *

Ladybug was back swinging on the rooftops during light rain, after the ambulance took Master Fu to the hospital. Normally she would have gone with him, but Mr. Raincomprix of the Police Department promised to have guards keeping an eye on him. So, for the moment, Master Fu would be under the authorities care.

With one less problem to worry about, Ladybug was able to go back into the real battle. Following the tracking device in her communicator, she ran towards her team’s signals as fast as she could. She jumped down the building right next to Rena Rouge’s mark.

“I’m here!” she announced, turning to the fox heroine. “What’s the…status.”

Where a superheroine was supposed to be standing, instead there was a woman in a big, puffy wedding dress. Fighting off small dinosaurs.

“This is ridiculous!” Rena Rouge complained, using a bouquet as if it was her flute. Petals flying everywhere. “Let,” swing, “me,” swing, “pass!”

Without skipping a beat, Ladybug used her yoyo to beat away the little critters. Meanwhile, Rena Rouge growled, as she tried to lift her pompous skirt.

“This akuma is annoying,” she said through gritted teeth.

“How did this happen?” Ladybug placed her weapon back on her waist.

“The Genie happened,” Rena huffed, kicking off a pair of high heels. “She showed up, and all she did was look at me and say: Your wish is my command. Next thing I know, I’m walking around in this.”

She gestured towards the dress. Ladybug tapped her lips with a finger.

“So, she probably grants wishes,” she thought out loud. “We need to find Ryuko and Viperion.”

“I think they were around the corner.”

With a nod, the two women ran in the direction they hoped their teammates would be. However, just as they turned the corner, several large toys invaded their path. Before Ladybug could do anything, they took Rena Rouge, yelling ‘Our Princess’ over and over. Ladybug was about to go after them, when she heard Viperion’s distinctive voice yelling reassurances.

She turned to see Ryuko floating upwards, as Viperion did his best to keep her grounded.

“Don’t let go, Viperion!” Ryuko yelled.

“I swear, I won’t!”

“I will kick your ass if you do!”

“I know!”

“What the hell is going on?” The voice of Chat Noir said beside her. Although she was relieved to hear his voice, her attention was on the floating heroine.

“They’re…getting wishes granted,” Ladybug answered absentmindedly, her head tilting.

“Ryuko wanted to float?”

Ladybug squinted.

“With her powers, that doesn’t make sense,” she thought out loud. She placed a hand on her chin. “Maybe it’s about how—”

“LOOK OUT!”

Chat Noir slammed his body against hers, sending them both several feet away from a dog shooting lasers out of their eyes.

“Why would anyone want a dog who shoots lasers?!” Ladybug yelped.

“Some kid out there has been watching too many cartoons,” Chat Noir commented.

“You okay, dudes?” Carapace’s voice said from above. Ladybug looked up, but instead of wearing the green hoodie outfit, he was dressed in a tuxedo of the same color.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “I was on my way here, and next thing I know, I’m dressed like I’m going to my wedding.”

“Wedding?” Ladybug scanned the area for Rena Rouge. It seemed she had gotten away from the giant toys and was now still trying to fight in the orange wedding dress, the bouquet looking more like a bunch of dying weeds. She looked back at Ryuko. And then back to Carapace. Her eyes widened. “The akuma is called Genie, right?”

“Yeah?” the men said in unison.

“And we can assume her power is granting wishes, right?”

“What are you getting at?” Carapace frowned.

“I don’t think Ryuko wished to float, and I’m a hundred percent sure the last thing Rena wants is to get married during a battle.”

“Meaning…?” Chat Noir squinted.

“We have to be careful what we wish for,” Ladybug concluded. “We can’t wish for anything. Not even in our minds, just in case.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Carapace shrugged.

“That’s what you think,” a voice behind them said.

In an instant, Ladybug and Chat Noir rose to their feet, making a battle pose. In front of them was what looked like a character from the animated Aladdin movie. Her skin was completely blue, and she wore a bustier with baggy pants. Her nose and mouth were covered by a belly dancer veil. Only her purple eyes were clearly visible under her bangs.

“I’m not a pushover, like other champions,” The Genie declared, slowly pulling her arms back. “I will get what I wish for, and not even you will stop me.”

“Isn’t there a rule that genies can’t grant wishes for themselves?” Chat Noir quipped.

“But I’m not a regular genie, now am I?” the villain then rested an elbow on her hand, fingers under her chin. “Once I have your miraculouses, I can get any wish a genie could want.”

“Miraculous wish?” Ladybug parroted. She and Chat Noir exchanged gazes, hoping they hadn’t arrived at the same hypothesis. Before they could say anything else, Carapace had placed a hand on her bicep.

“You’re not making any sense,” he said. Ladybug frowned, but noticed his eyes glimpsed to somewhere behind Genie. “I still don’t understand how your wish could come true with the two miraculouses.”

“It really isn’t clear,” she joined, trying not to give away Queen Bee sneaking behind the villain, ready to strike Venom.

“I think you’ve been given some false promises there, Genie,” Chat Noir mocked, using his staff like a cane and leaning forward on it.

“Hmph.” Genie closed her eyes. “You really think I’m that stupid.”

With a split-second movement, Genie was facing the other way, squeezing Queen Bee’s wrist. The superheroine screamed in pain, her weapon clattering on the floor.

“Bee!” Ladybug, Chat Noir and Carapace shouted in unison, as they ran to her aid. However, before they could get to her, Genie swung her towards them. All four landed painfully on the ground, as the villain vanished in swirling smoke.

“Where did she go?!” Ladybug panted, sitting up. Not a second later, a chilling laugh echoed in the air, with no point of origin.

“Bug,” Queen Bee grunted. “I think she broke my wrist.”

“That’s not good,” Chat Noir whispered, taking off his belt to wrap it around the injury.

“I can’t remember the last time one of use got seriously hurt in an attack,” Carapace commented, holding Queen Bee’s arm steady through her hissing.

“I shouldn’t have asked you two to come,” Ladybug lamented. “Not only are we a little rusty, but we’re clearly not in condition to be fighting.”

“This was my choice,” Queen Bee retorted, burning her eyes on their leader. “We had won. I am not letting stupid Gabriel get away with this. Not after everything we’ve been through. After everything we achieved. Everything I achieved…”

Ladybug’s face fell. “Chloé,” she said quietly, placing a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, “He’s not getting away with it. We beat him once. We can do it again.” She looked at Carapace. “Keep her safe, while Chat and I go after Genie.”

“Sure thing, Ma’am,” Carapace nodded, placing an arm around Queen Bee. “Kick that akuma’s ass for me.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Chat Noir gave his best friend a two-fingered salute.

The original duo stood up and walked together to the middle of the street, where they stood back to back. Alert, waiting to see where Genie would show up.

“Just like old times, huh?” Chat Noir commented, loud enough for his fiancé to hear.

“Don’t we always say that, every time it’s just the two of us again?” Ladybug quipped back, while scanning the area.

“And it never gets old, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug chuckled. “You always know how to break the tension, Chaton.”

“One of my many talents.”

“ENOUGH!” A voice echoed angrily in the air. There was a puff of blue smoke, and the next thing they knew, both were sent flying in opposite directions.

Ladybug landed hard on the concrete. Suddenly very thankful that the suit protected her from scrapping any skin against it. She raised her head, to see Genie standing where she and Chat Noir had been only a moment ago. On the other side of the street was her partner, almost on his feet.

Unfortunately, the second he was up, Genie disappeared from where she was, to reappear right behind him.

“Chat Noir!” Ladybug yelled. But it didn’t matter. He still got hit on the back of the head, with enough force to make him fall on his knees. Genie raised her arm again, but Ladybug swung and wrapped her yoyo just in time to stop her.

Gotcha, she thought triumphantly.

Genie’s head snapped towards Ladybug, sending a chill down her spine. Nevertheless, she kept her grip firm on the yoyo. The problem was that so did Genie. The villain grabbed the string and started pulling on it. Meanwhile, Ladybug did her best to stand her ground, but the akuma was surprisingly strong.

“Come here, Little Bug,” Genie hissed as she yanked the string hard enough to drag Ladybug several meters forward.

The superheroine gritted her teeth as she attempted to do the same to the akuma. With little success, only managing to anchor her feet where she was.

“You’re so annoying,” Genie huffed.

The next second, she was gone again, making Ladybug fall backwards. Chat Noir had regained his balance enough to run to her side, to make sure she was all right. He had just helped her back to her feet, when she was pulled back as if from an invisible rope around her stomach. Once again, sent flying across the street.

“Why don’t you fight us head on, you coward?!” Chat Noir yelled, any trace of playfulness gone.

A chilling chuckle resounded in the air.

“As you wish, pretty boy,” the disembodied voice of Genie said.

There was another puff of blue smoke, and the villain hit his chin upwards with the palm of her hand. Chat Noir staggered backwards, attempting to raise his staff. The next blow he managed to block with is weapon, but Genie immediately followed it with a hard kick to his stomach.

All the while, Ladybug slowly stood up, trying her best to ignore the pain on her ribs. This akuma was of the kind they rarely ever saw. It was almost like she had purposely allowed herself to be akumatized. Much like Catalyst on the first Heroes Day.

If there was anything she had learned from these type of akumas, it was that they were far more powerful than the regular brand. Mainly, because they weren’t aimless. Not only was their goal clear, but they collaborated with Hawkmoth to create a more coherent plan.

Ladybug breathed heavily, her arm over her torso. She looked around at her incapacitated team. Viperion had even turned back to Luka, for his five minutes were wasted as he kept his hold on Ryuko. How did it get this bad so fast? And why did it have to be Adrien fighting his father once again?

She could see it in Chat Noir’s eyes. Yes, he made jokes and insulted his father all the time, but he was still hurting. And at that very moment, his heart was simply not in it, if the way he was fighting was anything to go by. Why couldn’t Adrien be freed of such pain?

Genie puffed out again, to appear right in front of Ladybug. The heroine didn’t even get a chance to move, before a hand grabbed her neck and pushed her into the wall. Ladybug struggled, trying to both focus on the villain and on freeing herself.

“You’re so predictable,” Genie whispered, with a menacing grin.

Ladybug could feel her consciousness wavering, as her eyes focused on the glowing necklace on Genie’s chest.

“You’re wish is my command, Little Bug.”

And there was a glowing purple light…

* * *

Marinette’s eyes snapped open. Above her was a plain, white ceiling she didn’t recognize. With a gasp, she bolted into a sitting position. She gazed around the room, still not recognizing anything of it.

There was a desk topped with fabrics, a mannequin with several hats on it, papers scattered on the ground, a floor length mirror. And she was lying on a full-sized bed she didn’t recognize. Marinette shuffled out of the bed towards the mirror, hoping she hadn’t been transferred to someone else’s body.

To her relief, she was still her. And yet…not. Her hair was much longer than she originally had it. Gone was the pixie cut and now her hair almost reached her waist. Under her eyes were heavy bags she hadn’t seen in a long while. Like she hadn’t slept in days.

But what struck her most were the scars around her bare arms. When did she get those? Did she have them all over her body? Marinette dared to lift the shirt from her stomach, to see three more scars. As if leftovers of a battle.

From the reflection, she saw something move behind her. Marinette snapped her neck towards it, luckily to see a familiar little blob of red burying herself in the fabrics over the desk.

“Tikki,” she whispered called, scurrying towards the kwami. “Tikki! Wake up!”

“Shh,” the small being said.

Marinette’s brows furrowed. It wasn’t like Tikki to be lazy. With gruntled determination, the woman poked her little friend, calling her again.

“No,” Tikki responded.

“This is important,” Marinette whisper-yelled. “Something is really wrong, and I need your help to figure it out.”

“Talk to the tail,” Tikki mumbled, turning enough to point her tiny butt towards her charge.

Marinette gaped. “Since when are you this rude?”

“Since when do you not let me sleep in?”

“Are you really Tikki?”

“How much did you drink last night?” The kwami snapped back.

“You know very well I only had two glasses and a half.”

“And you know very well that I wasn’t there!” Tikki finally turned to Marinette, her eyes with a fury she had never seen.

“What are you talking about?” she said. “You were all in the kitchen. You were there when I divided up the team before going out to fight.”

Tikki looked at her like she had grown a second head.

“You’ve finally lost it.” With that, she turned and collapsed in the fabrics.

“Lost what?! I have no idea what’s going on or—” Marinette’s eyes widened. “Adrien.”

“Wait, what?”

“Of course!” The woman rummaged through the room until she found a cellphone, a jacket and a pair of pink flats to wear. “I need to find Adrien. I need to know if he’s okay, what happened to him, if Plagg is acting the same way—”

“Plagg?!”

“—maybe he’ll have answers. Hopefully he remembers what happened last night, when we fought The Genie.”

Ignoring Tikki’s sudden interest, Marinette yanked the door open and crossed what seemed to be a small living room to get to what she hoped would be the exit. Once in the hallway, she started inspecting the phone that luckily had no lock.

“Ugh.” She grimaced at the background picture of a ridiculously revealing dress. “Whosever phone this is, they have terrible taste in clothes.”

Marinette continued tapping on the screen, ignoring a mutter from Tikki nearby about the phone. Looking into the contacts, she had to admit surprise when she saw Alya almost at the top of the list. Without waiting any second longer, she called the number.

Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

“Dammit.” The voicemail came through the speaker. “Hey, Alya, it’s Marinette. I need you to call me to this number as soon as you can. Something very weird happened. Call me back, please!”

She hung up and continued scrolling through the contacts.

“Huh.” She tilted her head. “This phone is the same model as my old one.”

“You’ve had that phone for three years already,” Tikki said loudly. Marinette stopped on her tracks. She glanced at the kwami peering from under the jacket, and back at the phone.

“You’re not making any sense,” she resorted to say.

Yet her mind started racing as she ran down the stairs. The phone was clearly not hers, if it didn’t have the background picture of Adrien and her on their engagement party. Then again, things had been pretty bizarre already that morning.

Once in the ground floor, Marinette powerwalked towards the exit. Hopefully, she would find some answers once she stepped out of that door.

However, it wasn’t much help.

Stepping into the blinding sunlight, Marinette only realized she was an arrondissement away from her apartment. She was suddenly tempted to transform, to reach her home faster. But with Tikki’s mood, perhaps it was best to walk.

As the woman marched, she scanned her surroundings. From the looks of it, there was no sign of The Genie. As if it had never happened. No giant pets, no reanimated toys, nothing strange at all. She checked the phone again, which was very unhelpful when it barely had any contacts. Tikki said it was her phone, so if that was the case: where were Nino and Chloé? Was it even safe to try other numbers?

Marinette sighed, her head starting to hurt. Just as she looked up, she noticed a blond mop of hair she would recognize anywhere.

“Oh my gosh!” she breathed, breaking into a run, eyes trained on the man exiting a café. “ADRIEN!” she yelled.

Said man raised his head in bewilderment, almost apprehensive. She called several more times until he looked to her direction.

“Marinette?” He barely said her name, when she threw her arms around his neck, almost making him drop the brown bag in his hand.

“Adrien!” Marinette sighed in relief. “Thank goodness, I was worried something may have happened to you.”

“What?” the man questioned, brows furrowing.

“I’ve been so worried, and so confused,” she pulled back, grabbing on to his biceps. “I woke up this morning and I was in a strange apartment, and you weren’t there, and Tikki wasn’t talking to me, and I couldn’t get a hold of Alya, Nino or Chloé, and everything feels weird, and—”

“What are you doing?” Adrien cut in, shrugging his arms away from her. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“Huh?” Marinette frowned. “W-well… I don’t know! Adrien, nothing feels—”

“Why are you talking to me?” he snapped when her hand had reached out again.

The woman slowly straightened, staring at her fiancé dumbfounded.

“Chaton?”

“Chaton?” Adrien parroted. “You really have lost it now, haven’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” Adrien rolled his eyes, before checking his watch. “Look, I don’t have time for this, I have things to do. So, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Wait, no!” Marinette grabbed his wrist desperately, only for him to roughly shake it off.

“Listen here,” he said, pointing at her menacingly. “I swear that if you come at me like this again, I will be forced to get a restraining order—”

“Restraining order?!”

 “—against you. I don’t want to, but you know very well I can’t be seen with you. Or do you forget I’m a public figure?”

“Why are you threatening me? Are you under an akuma spell?”

“Marinette, it’s been two years!” he shouted, rendering her quiet. He let out a defeated sigh. “And here I thought we were past this. Just… I’m with Lila now, so just deal with it.”

Without a second look, he walked past her shell-shocked form. The words slugging through her mind, wondering whether they had been real or not. Two years? Two years of what?! Since when would Adrien threaten her with a restraining order? Since when does he not recognize his own nickname?

But most importantly… Since when were they not together?

---

Next