#I think I was trying to do like: bounding into the distance with a really deep perspective and failing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bishovapls · 2 months ago

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Our Little One - It Was Just Fate.

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: This prologue/prequel to 'You Make Such Pretty Sounds When You’re Sorry' and 'I Think You Both Need Daddy, Hm?' dives into the reader’s introduction to kink, guided by a close friend. Their first attempt at exploring the culture takes an unexpected turn, but it sets the stage for their connection with Wanda and Natasha. As they navigate the complexities of their budding relationship, they face challenges that test them all. And of course, we need a bit of smut, so we see their first time together. Expect emotional struggles, discovery, and the messy beginnings of the 'Our Little One' universe.

Warnings: 18+, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Age Gap (Older WandaNat/Younger Reader), BDSM, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Cunnilingus, Safe Words & Check-ins, Kink Negotiation, Self-Esteem Issues, Innocent Reader, Light Angst (but with a happy ending), Allusion to previous abuse.

A/N: Posting this on my birthday, so if you hate it, just remember, no mean comments allowed. I don't make the rules, I just live by them. I know this is long, probably way more than you bargained for, but hey, I cut it down a lot, so really, it could be worse. Also, thank you to @chansawrelier for the request!

Word Count: 21,299

NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

You’d moved across the country for college, leaving behind a home that had never really felt like one. It hadn’t been an easy decision, but it was a necessary one, something between escape and survival. You arrived early, more than a week before classes began, eager to settle into the dorms and put some distance between yourself and everything you were trying to forget.

By some stroke of luck, your roommate had moved in early, too. Apparently, her loft on the other side of the city had burned down in a freak accident, and she flat-out refused to move back in with her mother.

Kate Bishop was everything you hadn’t even dared to hope for in a roommate: funny, grounded, genuinely kind. She made you feel like maybe you weren’t entirely alone in this strange, unfamiliar place. She’d grown up in New York, had an entire life here already, complete with a close-knit group of friends and a girlfriend named Yelena.

You’d only met Yelena a few times, but she made an impression, slightly older, striking, with a dry wit and a thick accent that made everything she said sound twice as cool. She’d already finished college, and now ran a chain of martial arts studios across the city.

But one thing that had truly shocked you was their dynamic when they were alone. Coming from a small town with no clue about college etiquette, you hadn’t thought twice about the sock on the door handle of your dorm. Headphones in, music blasting, you’d returned late one night from your favourite café and pushed the door open with a casual, “Hey, Kate—”

And froze.

Yelena was strapped to Kate’s narrow bed, wrists and ankles bound to the corners, her body completely exposed and vulnerable. Kate was straddling her in a panic, trying hopelessly to shield her girlfriend’s nakedness with her own body. You froze in the doorway, eyes wide, breath caught, the scene burning itself into your mind before instinct took over. You spun around and ran, heart pounding, feet flying.

It took two full days of pretending nothing had happened before it finally cracked. You hadn’t meant to say anything, you were determined not to. You’d buried it deep, shoved it behind textbooks and playlists and pointless walks to nowhere, trying to suffocate it under a hundred different distractions.

But the memory kept clawing its way back. Not of them, not really. Not Kate or Yelena as people. It wasn’t about attraction. It was the feeling of what they were doing. The heat that pooled in your stomach when you remembered the way Yelena had looked beneath Kate, the weightless calm in her limbs, the glow behind her eyes, even though you’d barged in on them in such an intimate moment.

You couldn't stop thinking about it.

But tonight, Kate insisted (more like begged) that you go to the big pre-semester party. So you’d gone. You’d drunk more than you meant to. And now, hours later, the dorm room was gently swaying around you, the overhead light was off, and everything was bathed in the soft, amber spill of the desk lamp.

Kate looked like she’d been sculpted into relaxation. Her legs were tangled in a blanket, her flannel half-buttoned and slipping from one shoulder, and her phone was held loosely in her hand. But every few seconds, her gaze darted up. You didn’t have to see it to feel it.

The tension curled in the air between you like smoke. Eventually, she let out a long, theatrical sigh that broke the quiet. Tossed her phone onto the bed and sat up, cracking her neck like she was about to start a fight.

“Okay, you’ve officially out-brooded me,” she said, tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “And I once spent a whole summer listening to nothing but Lana Del Rey. So. Spill. What’s going on in that tragic little head of yours?”

You gave a hollow sort of laugh, too tight, too dry. “Nothing’s wrong. I'm fine.”

Kate raised one eyebrow slowly, unimpressed. “Right. Because the whole ‘I’m fine’ routine goes so well with the thousand-yard stare. C’mon, what’s actually going on?”

Your heart kicked like a trapped animal. You hated this pressure, this feeling like your body was shrinking in on itself. Your arms curled tighter around the blanket, your hands clenched hard enough that your knuckles ached.

“Is it something I did?” she asked, and her voice changed. It was gentler, even coaxing. “Or said?”

“No. No, it’s not that,” you said quickly, the words falling out too fast. Your head snapped up, eyes wide, terrified she’d misunderstood. You needed her to know it wasn’t her.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with soft focus, studying you like you were a puzzle with one piece missing. “Then what is it?”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came. Your jaw clenched as your fingers dug deeper into the blanket. Her tone turned almost tender. “You’ve been weird since Tuesday.”

You flinched like the word itself slapped you. It landed with terrifying accuracy.

Kate’s eyes flickered, amusement already curling at her mouth before the full realisation even landed. “Ohhh,” she said, drawing the word out with a grin, her tone all too knowing. “This is about the sock on the door, isn’t it?”

Heat surged up your neck and into your cheeks, spreading fast. Your ears burned, your stomach turned. “Kate—”

She groaned, flopping back against her pillow with a theatrical sigh, even as her grin widened. “God, I told Yelena the sock was a shit idea! I literally said we needed a better system. I said we should’ve just gone back to hers.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled and miserable. “I didn’t mean to walk in. I didn’t know what it meant.”

“No, clearly not. You looked like you’d witnessed a murder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move so fast,” she said with a huff of laughter.

“I panicked,” you muttered, not lifting your head.

“You literally threw yourself into the corridor,” she corrected, another chuckle spilling out as she sat up again, trying to pull you into the warmth of the moment.

“I panicked,” you said again, but this time your voice cracked on the word. It came out too thin, too small. Your breath caught.

The laughter vanished from Kate’s face in an instant, her expression tightening with concern. “Hey. I’m messing with you, but if it really freaked you out…” Her voice came quieter now, steadier, threaded with something that sounded like guilt. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll talk to Yelena, and—”

“No.” The word shot out, too loud, too harsh. You winced immediately. “No, it’s not that. I just…”

You looked down. Your hands were trembling. Kate didn’t speak. She waited. You hadn’t known her long, but she already knew you, your silences, your defence mechanisms, the way you got brittle before you broke.

Finally, your voice emerged, hollow. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She blinked. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected, clearly. You surged on before the fear could catch you.

“Not like that,” you said fast, too fast, your words tangling in each other. “I’m not…into you, or Yelena, or anything like that. I just…I keep seeing it. You and her. And it didn’t look scary, or weird. It looked…right. Like it made sense. Like that’s where you were supposed to be.”

Kate’s entire face shifted, something warm and open blooming across her features. She looked almost reverent, like the thought alone settled something deep inside her. “Yeah,” she said, slow and certain. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

You stared at her, overwhelmed. “That’s not normal, though, is it?” Your voice cracked at the edges, shame clinging to it like soot.

“Who told you that?” she asked, voice flatter now, more guarded.

You hesitated. “No one. I just feel like a freak. I can’t stop thinking about it. Something about it felt familiar. Like…like it scratched some itch I didn’t know I had.”

Kate’s smile was so gentle it barely reached her mouth. But her eyes were all compassion. “That doesn’t make you a freak. That makes you self-aware.”

You groaned and hid again behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing. I want to crawl into a hole and just die.”

“No dying allowed,” she said, easy and light. “Also, not embarrassing. I’ve had this kind of conversation, like, four times. One girl sobbed. One guy made a spreadsheet. You’re doing great.”

You huffed out a soft, stunned laugh. Still didn’t look at her. Your eyes locked on your knees. “How did you know? That you were into all of…that?”

Kate blinked once. Then she smiled, slow and steady. “All of what, exactly?” Her voice dipped teasingly. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, babe. I’m into a lot of stuff.”

You laughed nervously. “You know what I mean.” You swallowed. “I’ve never done anything like that. My past hookups were all really…vanilla. Very, very, missionary-with-the-lights-off vanilla.”

Kate wrinkled her nose in mock-disgust. “Yikes. That is bleak.”

“It was. But this…I don’t know. It’s been in my head since.” You faltered. The moment had gotten too big again. You shrank from it. “This is weird. Let’s just sleep?”

Kate studied you for a second longer, then spoke. It was quiet, but there was a sterness to it. “Hey. Look at me?”

Your head turned before you even thought about it. Eyes locking with hers like it was instinct.

Kate didn’t say anything for a beat. But her face changed. Just a flicker. A quiet realisation before she eventually spoke. “Okay,” she said softly, mostly to herself.

Your heart leapt. “What?”

She shrugged, lips twitching, clearly holding back a grin. “Just answering my own question.”

You frowned. “What question?”

She grinned now, wicked and amused. “Which side you’re on.”

Your stomach plummeted, and your heart raced. “What does that even mean?”

She tilted her head, her voice low and playful. “I mean…me or Yelena. Domme or Sub. The one doing the tying or the one getting tied.” She paused, watching you closely. “You didn’t even think about it. You just looked at me. That’s kind of a giveaway.”

You groaned, mortified. “Don’t analyse me.”

She laughed, bright and delighted. “Too late. I already diagnosed you with chronic obedience.”

You covered your face again, but this time the trembling in your hands didn’t stop the laughter bubbling up.

Kate let the moment sit for a second. Then she leaned forward again, voice soft but sincere. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. You don’t even have to do anything with it. But if you ever want to talk about what it means, what it doesn’t, I’m here. No judgement.”

You looked up slowly. Cautious. But grateful. Kate met your gaze with a small nod. “I’ve got you.”

—

You and Kate had gone to bed not long after the conversation, nerves buzzing under your skin, alcohol humming through your blood, and a restless curiosity settling somewhere low in your stomach.

By morning, the haze had lifted a little, but the curiosity remained. You barely had to ask before Kate was sitting cross-legged across from you, all easy confidence and unfiltered honesty, rattling off explanations like it was the most normal thing in the world. She walked you through the foundations of it all, kinks and limits, power dynamics, aftercare.

She explained safe words, how communication was everything, and how trust wasn’t optional; it was the entire point. She even introduced you to the traffic light system, green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.

And then, she gave you the most terrifying suggestion of all: a lesbian kink club.

She brought it up so casually, like it was just another bullet point on her list. You’d balked, of course, wide-eyed and uncertain, but Kate just shrugged and smiled, patient as ever.

She promised it wasn’t what you were imagining, no horror stories, no unchecked chaos, no pressure. “This place is serious,” she said, “It’s safe. Everything’s built around consent and control, and no one will touch you without a hell of a lot of permission. You don’t even have to speak if you don’t want to. Just watch. That’s what most new people do.”

Still, when you asked if she’d come with you, she hesitated. “I can’t,” she said eventually, with a wry smile. “Yelena would lose her mind. And no domme would even come near you if you were with me. They know me, and they know I don’t share.”

You blinked at her, confused. “But you’re not—”

She held up a hand. “I know. But that’s not how it works there. People respect boundaries, so if I walked in with a pretty new sub, they’d assume I’d claimed you, like I did Yelena, and steer clear.”

Your face burned red at the idea of being claimed, along with the subtle ‘pretty’ she had thrown in there. You knew it wasn't flirty and was more of a joke, but the thought of being seen as pretty made your breath stutter a bit.

But before you could think too much about that, she laughed a little sheepishly then. “Plus, I have been known to growl like a rabid dog when someone flirts with Yelena. Even without the rules, I'm pretty sure they'd stay away out of fear of grievous bodily harm.”

You laughed then, the tension easing slightly, but still, the idea of going without Kate made your chest tighten.

But Kate had been insistent. “You don’t have to do anything. Just go. Watch. No one will touch you unless you say yes. And if it gets too much, you leave. Simple.”

She'd made it sound manageable. Even safe. She talked about safe, sane, consensual like it was gospel, and maybe, for her, it was. And the way she spoke about it made it hard not to believe her.

—

From the very first time you’d wandered into Wanda’s cafe, drawn by the aroma of fresh pastries and coffee, you’d known this place was going to be your refuge. The mismatched mugs, the wild greenery curling down from hanging pots and over windowsills, the gently worn furniture that seemed to have stories soaked into the wood, it all felt like a place you were allowed to exhale in.

You’d started coming to the café nearly every time Kate was out with her friends, and you’d refused to join her, which, given how often that was, meant you were there a lot.

Wanda, whose name you had learned on your second visit, wasn’t always there, but when she was, you noticed, and for some reason, it would make your sanctuary even better. There was a soft warmth in the way she’d glance at you from behind the counter.

And when you’d been there for hours, nursing your fourth cup of coffee for the day, Wanda would always notice. “You need to eat something, darling,” she’d say gently, setting a pastry and a glass of water down in front of you with a soft smile. “It’s lovely seeing you in here so often, but that much coffee with no food or water? Not on my watch.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a kindness beneath it that made you feel cared for in a way you weren’t used to.

And every time that happened, your face would burn, heat spreading all the way to your ears, and you’d have to lower your gaze to hide the way your mouth betrayed you, unable to form a proper thank you.

And that was how, on a slow Saturday afternoon, you once again found yourself curled into your usual corner booth, tucked safely behind your laptop and a growing stack of notes. You’d told yourself you were going to be productive, that today would be about distraction. And judging by the five colour-coded drafts of your class timetable and the frankly absurd amount of early required reading you’d powered through, you’d managed, for a while.

But eventually, your focus had begun to slip. No matter how hard you tried to drown it in academic preparation, your thoughts kept drifting, again and again, to tonight. To the club.

You did want to go. You were curious, drawn to it in a way you didn’t fully understand. But you weren’t exactly the most social person on the best of days, and this wasn’t some casual night out with your new bestie Kate. You didn’t know what to expect. You barely knew the rules. And for someone who’d only just begun to glimpse that part of themselves, who still hesitated to name the things they wanted, the whole thing felt impossibly big.

You were still debating if you could handle it when the soft chime of the café door snapped you out of your spiral. Your fingers stilled on your cup, and something in your chest jumped, an involuntary reaction you’d become embarrassingly familiar with.

It was her again.

You didn’t know her name. You didn’t want to know her name. You weren’t looking. Not really. You just…noticed her. Every time.

You kept your eyes on your screen, or tried to, though it was hard not to notice the way she slipped behind the counter like she belonged there. And maybe she did, because even the very first time you saw her, you’d noticed how Wanda leaned into her, soft and familiar, how the redhead’s hand settled at the small of her back like it was second nature. You’d caught the way Wanda tilted her face down ever so slightly, unthinking, offering a kiss that was less a greeting and more a ritual.

And still, you told yourself you weren’t watching. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop either. You just couldn’t help overhearing.

“Are we still going to that place your sister suggested tonight?” Wanda’s voice was casual, but bright. There was a hopefulness in it that made you glance up again without meaning to.

The redhead didn’t answer immediately. Her body shifted, spine straightening. Her expression didn’t change, not really, but the vibe of her turned cooler, more guarded.

“You sure we need this?” she asked finally, voice low, cautious. “You know what happened last time.”

You shouldn’t have been listening. You told yourself you weren’t. But your hand was still on your coffee cup, unmoving, your laptop screen long since forgotten.

“It’s different this time,” Wanda replied. Her hand came up to rest on Natasha’s shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her sleeve, a soft comfort you imagined. “You know that.”

Natasha didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either.

Then Wanda leaned closer, her voice dropping into something quieter, and even though you knew you shouldn’t, you tilted just slightly forward to hear. “We go,” she said, “we see what it’s like. And if it doesn’t work out…” she trailed off, then smiled, and there was something wicked and warm in it all at once. “I’ll let you ruin me as revenge. Deal?”

Natasha’s breath hitched. So did yours. You stared hard at the screen in front of you, suddenly too aware of your own skin, of the heat climbing up your neck and settling behind your ears.

You took a long sip of coffee, letting the bitterness settle on your tongue, focusing on the heat of the cup cradled between your palms like it might tether you. It didn’t help, at least, not in the way you wanted.

But thinking about them, about the quiet ease between them, the way Wanda’s eyes softened when the redhead leaned in close, or the way that touch lingered a little longer than necessary, was its own kind of distraction.

A quiet ache bloomed, low in your chest. You’d never had anything like that, you might never, and you hated how easily that thought lodged itself inside you. Still, it was something to focus on. Better, at least, than the spiralling nerves about tonight.

—

You’d made it to the club, barely after spending hours spiralling over your outfit, changing again and again until you were out of time and excuses. But the moment you arrived, you couldn’t move. People flowed in around you like it was nothing. They moved as if they’d been born knowing how to exist in places like this.

Your heart pounded too fast, thudding against your ribs like it was trying to escape. Your fingers clenched tighter around the strap of your bag. Every part of you was begging to turn around, to run, before anyone noticed you didn’t belong.

“Hey. You,” you heard. You didn’t look up. It was New York, someone was always yelling, always calling out to someone who wasn’t you.

Except this time, it was. “Yeah, you,” the voice called again, laced with amusement. “Pretty skirt, face that screams ‘please get me the hell out of here’ , you planning to actually come inside, or just admire the door all night?”

Your head snapped up so fast it made your earrings shift.

The woman by the door was clearly amused, her arms folded as she leaned against the rope like she had all the time in the world. Her name tag read Rio, bold against the tight black security tee stretched across her chest.

“C’mon,” she drawled, tilting her head toward the door, a dark curl falling across her brow as she looked you over. “You’ve been out here long enough to grow roots. What’s the hold up?”

You managed a breath that might’ve been a laugh, or a plea for help. Nothing coherent left your mouth, just a twitch of your lips that was closer to panic than a smile.

Rio grinned, like she’d seen it all before and still found it mildly entertaining. “Ah, first time?”

You nodded, small and tight, the motion barely there as your stomach flipped itself inside out.

She let that hang for a beat, then tipped her chin at you again, this time with a glint of something warmer behind the sharpness in her eyes. “Well, chill out. You look good. Real good. And no one’s gonna bite, unless you ask real nice.”

Her brow arched, deliberately suggestive, but the teasing was light, like a nudge rather than a push.

Then, without making a thing of it, she unhooked the velvet rope and stepped aside. Her posture stayed easy, but her voice shifted, just a little softer, just enough to catch you. “Go on, cutie. You’ve got this.”

And somehow, heart hammering and logic nowhere to be found, your feet started moving. You ducked past her, still not entirely sure how you’d managed it, but knowing her smirk was burning the back of your neck as you went.

—

As soon as you stepped inside, the air shifted, cool, smooth, and immediately heavy with the scent of expensive perfume mixed with something faintly sweaty. The lighting was soft, muted golden hues casting shadows that seemed to wrap around the room like a whisper.

Everything was plush, refined, velvet drapes, dark mahogany wood floors that gleamed in the dim light, and sleek, modern furniture that looked both inviting and intimidating.

There were no wild strobe lights or neon signs; instead, the atmosphere was intimate in a way that made you feel like you were being gently observed, as if everyone here was comfortable with who they were and what they wanted.

They seemed to float through the space, dressed in a refined mix of leather, silk, lace, and tailored suits, each one exuding a quiet confidence that you had yet to find in yourself.

Then your eyes caught on the stage across the room, where a strikingly pale woman with strawberry blonde hair stood in sleek black leather. Beside her was another woman, dark hair tumbling in soft waves, green eyes gleaming under the lights, dressed in a delicate lace bodice that clung to her like it had been stitched directly onto her skin.

The sub seemed at ease, almost meditative, as the flogger began to make contact with her in a rhythmic pattern. It wasn’t crude, wasn’t sexual in the way you expected. It was educational, like they were teaching the crowd about trust, boundaries, and the delicate balance of pain and pleasure.

It was…oddly beautiful, and you found yourself watching for longer than you’d intended. But the longer you stood there, the more overwhelmed you felt, the more your mind raced to catch up. This wasn’t the world you knew, nor a world you’d ever really imagined. It was intimidating, but still also oddly inviting.

Your feet moved before you even realised, carrying you to the bar without thinking. The low hum of the room, the muffled sound of the flogger against skin from the demonstration, the soft laughter of women chatting in hushed tones, all seemed to blur as you found yourself gripping the cool marble counter.

The bartender, a woman with sharp eyes and an air of authority, glanced up at you as you approached, studying you for a moment before offering a small, knowing smile. “I think you might need something strong, hon?” she asked, her voice understanding, and you nodded, trying to calm the frantic thudding of your heart.

You could still hear the demonstration in the distance, the faint swish of the flogger and the calm voice explaining the technique, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look back. Instead, you focused on the glass being placed in front of you, the cool condensation from the drink briefly grounding you. You took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the nervous tremor in your hands, your mind still racing.

—

When you arrived, you had promised yourself that you’d stay for at least two hours, give it a proper try, sit with the discomfort, and push through it. You weren’t going to bolt the second it got hard.

Over the last hour and a half, three different women had approached you, spaced out just far enough to make it feel like a fresh humiliation each time. They’d come over with smiles, kind, confident, curious, trying to draw you into conversation, asking your name, what brought you here.

And you’d tried, you really had, forcing your lips into a shape resembling a smile, giving them answers that barely skimmed the surface of coherent, until the pauses got longer, the polite smiles more strained, and eventually, they moved on.

You already struggled to believe you were enough in your everyday life. Add way too many drinks you definitely didn’t need, and an hour and a half of mounting self-consciousness, and the weight of it all started to press down on you. Every rejection, every silence, every glance that passed right over you, all congealed into something thick and sharp and awful in your chest.

And suddenly you were running.

When did you start running?

You didn’t even realise until your body collided with something solid, no… someone. Your body jolted to a stop, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. A warm, steady grip closed around your upper arm.

You blinked through the tears in your eyes, and that’s when you saw her. The redhead from the café. Just as striking in the low amber light, head half-tilted, a crease forming between her brows. And next to her, Wanda.

You wanted to say something, but your mouth refused. Your throat clenched tight around the words. So you did the only thing your body would allow, you ran.

Again.

You wrenched your arm free, heart lurching in your chest as you burst through the door and back into the cold, chasing air and distance like they might save you.

“Hey! Hey, you okay, newbie?” Rio’s voice followed you, half-laughing, half-sharp with worry. But you didn’t turn around.

Your feet pounded the pavement, and your limbs shook as you ran. The wind tore at your hair, the cold sting of tears still fresh on your cheeks. Your mouth was dry, your lungs burning. You didn’t care where you were going, just that you needed to escape.

Down one street, then another. The world blurred around you, the hum of traffic, the lingering bass in your head, the tightness of your skirt, the sour taste of your drinks from earlier.

When your legs gave out, you stumbled into an alley, your back hitting the wall. The cold bricks bit through your tights, the wet chill sharpening every unbearable feeling. You slid to the ground, curling into yourself, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Panic ripped through you, quiet and brutal, stealing your breath in shallow gasps as the world closed in.

You didn’t hear her coming. Not until her voice slipped through the haze, gentle, low, threaded with concern. “Hey, Sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Wanda.

You knew it instantly, but you couldn’t lift your head. Even the soft warmth of her voice made your skin crawl with overstimulation. You stayed curled in on yourself, fingers digging into your sleeves, breath stuttering in shallow, uneven pulls.

“Look at me,” she urged, her voice firmer now. Her hands found your face, fingers gliding over your skin, coaxing your head up.

She saw the wet streaks down your face, the tremor in your lips, the glassy, unfocused eyes. Her expression shifted from shock to anger. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

A desperate shake of your head was all you could offer.

Beyond Wanda, the redhead stood in the alley’s mouth, arms crossed, watching in silence.

Wanda’s hands stayed on your face, grounding you. “Breathe with me,” she whispered. “In through the nose. Nice and slow.”

You wanted to say you knew what to do, that you’d been through this before. You knew all the things you were supposed to do: sit up straight, inhale for four, exhale for six, and ground yourself. But knowing didn’t mean doing. And right now, everything felt impossible.

Still, Wanda’s voice reached you. One breath. Then another. Your chest still trembled, but you followed. “That’s it,” she whispered, soothing. “You’re doing so well.”

She stayed until your hands stopped shaking, until your tears slowed. When your body finally gave in, she gently lifted your chin. Worry softened her gaze, her touch too kind.

“Talk to me,” she said. “You looked like you were running from something awful. Please tell me what it was.”

You tried. But all you managed was a broken exhale, your voice tangled up somewhere too deep to reach.

And Wanda didn’t wait. She just pulled you against her chest, one hand holding the back of your head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles along your back.

Eventually, Wanda’s voice broke the quiet, low and close to your ear. “You’re freezing, Honey.” Her arms tightened slightly, and you realised with a delayed shiver that the warmth you’d felt earlier wasn’t real, it had been panic, adrenaline, the flush of fear burning through your skin. Now that it had passed, all that was left was the cold.

“I’m okay,” you said, though the words came out hoarse and thin.

Her eyes didn’t move. “No,” she said quietly. “You’re not. And that’s okay. But let us walk you home?”

You shook your head slowly. “I’ll need to call an Uber, my dorm is on the other side of town. I’m fine. Really. Thank you, though…for everything.”

But the moment those words left your mouth, you saw something shift in her expression. Worry deepening into something more decisive, more stubborn. Like the idea of walking away from you now went against every instinct she had.

“No,” she said firmly. Then she paused, her eyes searching yours, her next words quieter, more careful. “Please, sweetheart. I don’t like the idea of you getting into a stranger’s car when you’re like this. It’s late. You’re not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t have to be. Let someone else take care of it. Of you. ”

“But I don’t want to ruin your night,” you whispered. “You were—” You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Wanda blinked once, slowly. “You didn’t ruin anything,” she said. “We were going to leave anyway. That club wasn’t exactly our scene.”

You let out a short, breathless laugh. “It wasn't mine either.”

That earned you a smile, soft and crooked. “Figured that out when I saw you sprinting out of there like it was on fire.”

Your blush betrayed you before you could stop it, your face going hot in the cool night, the memory of the club still pressed against your skin. But it wasn’t just the awkwardness that flushed your cheeks. It was them. The realisation that if they weren't having fun tonight, Wanda had a promise to fulfil.

Wanda tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You shook your head violently, and your eyes darted anywhere but her face. Please, God, don’t make me explain.

Thankfully, she didn’t push. She just gave you a look full of curiosity and affection, and let it go. “Come back with us. We’ve got a spare room. You can shut the door and go straight to bed if you want. I just…I’d feel better knowing you were safe.”

You hesitated. Your eyes flicked toward the redhead, still by the alley’s mouth, still watching. She’d had no say in any of this, and you didn’t want to be the reason her night ended differently than planned. Especially not if it meant she wouldn’t get to ‘ruin ’ Wanda, as Wanda had put it.

But Wanda caught the glance and laughed under her breath. “Don’t worry about her. She knows I’ve got a soft spot for you. She definitely expected this.”

You flushed, hard. But before you could figure out what to say, the other woman's voice came from the end of the alley, as if she could hear the conversation. “Wanda. It’s cold. If she’s not walking in the next two minutes, I’m carrying her.”

“She doesn’t seem very happy,” you whispered.

Wanda giggled, unabashed. “That’s just Nat. You get used to it. But she won’t be happy if we don’t get moving, come on.”

She stood, holding out her hand. You took it. Her arm stayed around your shoulders as she walked you to the alley’s edge, back into the chill of the open street. The redhead gave you a long look as you approached, her smile clipped but still there.

It didn’t take long to reach their place, maybe ten or fifteen minutes of quiet walking. You didn’t speak much, still raw, but Wanda stayed close, her arm a steady weight around your shoulders, while the redhead, Nat, you thought, that’s what Wanda had called her, walked by her side.

Once inside, Wanda could tell you were exhausted. She guided you gently upstairs to a small but cosy guest room and handed you soft joggers and a loose T-shirt. The clothes were a little long in the leg and hung loose at the shoulders, but they were cosy, and they wrapped around you like safety.

You curled into the blankets, Wanda’s shirt tucked close around your chin, and let yourself drift off.

—

You felt it before you even opened your eyes. The heaviness behind them, dull and throbbing like something pressing in from the inside. A headache you recognised all too well, the post-panic kind, the one that settled in like bruises on your brain.

Your limbs ached, like you’d run miles. And your stomach rolled with the nauseating mix of nerves and the ghost of alcohol, sitting thick and unwelcome in your gut.

And then came the worst part, remembering exactly where you were, and who you were with.

You were in their house. Wanda’s house. And hers, too, the redhead, Nat, whatever her full name was. Not your dorm. Not your tiny, safe, familiar space with its cluttered desk and cheap sheets. Theirs.

You groaned quietly, dragging the covers over your head, as if hiding from the world might somehow cancel the impending awkwardness. You’d have to go downstairs eventually, face them, thank them, apologise for…well, everything. Just the thought made your stomach churn harder.

You’d barely managed to pull the covers tighter when a soft knock broke the quiet. You could ignore it. You could pretend you were still asleep. But instead, your voice came out small, almost reluctant. “Come in.”

The door eased open, and Wanda stepped inside, eyes scanning you with that same gentleness from the night before. You flushed with embarrassment. You must look like hell. Last night’s make-up was probably smudged to oblivion, your cheeks puffy, your hair a mess.

“I’m making breakfast,” she said, voice soft but careful, like she didn’t want to startle you. “Was wondering if you wanted to join us.”

You didn’t answer at first, brain still dragging behind, eyes squinting against the light slipping in through the doorway. And Wanda must’ve taken your silence as discomfort, because she rushed to fill it.

“I mean, you don’t have to. I can totally leave you alone if you’d rather sneak out, no pressure. Keep the clothes, obviously. I just…whatever makes you most comfortable.”

She smiled, but her eyes said something different. They said she didn’t want you to go.

You let out a dry, weak little laugh, more breath than sound, but Wanda’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Breakfast sounds good,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

Wanda brightened instantly, her relief written all over her face. “Okay, perfect. No rush, just come down when you’re ready, Sweetheart.”

She lingered in the doorway for a second, like she wanted to say more, then closed the door gently behind her as she left.

---

You stayed upstairs longer than you probably should have, sitting on the edge of the unfamiliar bed. But eventually, you hauled yourself up, made it to the bathroom, and stared down the mirror. Puffy eyes. Smeared mascara. Lips chapped and raw from worry and crying. You cringed and did the best with what you could.

When you made it downstairs, you hovered in the doorway for a moment. Wanda stood at the stove, hair swept up, swaying a little as she stirred. ‘Nat’ was lounging at the kitchen island with a mug half-raised, looking at you over the rim.

Wanda gave you a bright, welcoming smile. “Come sit by Natasha,” she said gently, nodding toward the empty stool.

Natasha. Huh. That was the name, then. Not just Nat . You hadn’t been sure if it was short for Natalie, Natalia, Natasha, or something else entirely.

Natasha gave a soft laugh, low and rough with sleep. “I promise I’m not that scary,” she said, one eyebrow lifting. “You can sit.”

You nearly choked on your own breath, cheeks going hot, and you shifted your eyes downwards. That slight rasp went straight to your spine. Still, you moved, wordless, and slid onto the stool beside her.

Wanda passed you a mug before you could even ask, and it was perfect. The right amount of milk, the exact strength you liked. Of course she remembered your order from the cafe.

“How’d you sleep?” Wanda asked after a beat, back still turned as she cooked.

“Fine. I think I passed out before my head hit the pillow,” you said with a soft laugh, trying to keep it casual.

Their chuckles came almost in sync. You could’ve clung to that sound, it made the kitchen feel less like enemy territory.

“Bet your head’s a disaster, though?” Natasha asked, glancing sideways with a knowing smirk.

You gave her a dramatic look. “I feel like I was trampled by at least four cows and then dragged through a blender. So, yeah. Little bit.”

That made her laugh, a real one, and you couldn’t help but smile. Something in your chest unclenched. Maybe she wasn’t that terrifying.

“Well, you’ve cleaned up pretty well,” she said, casually. “Considering you cried your lashes off in a public alley.”

You winced, cheeks burning, but there was no real cruelty in her voice, just observation.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured after a pause, fingers curling around the coffee mug. “I didn’t mean to…make it your problem.”

Wanda finally turned to look at you, her expression open and earnest. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “I’m just glad we were there, you clearly needed someone, hm?”

That little hum somehow echoed through you like a secret. Light and harmless on the surface, but it dropped straight through your chest and left slow-spreading ripples in its wake.

You didn’t understand why it hit so low in your stomach, why it made your fingers twitch around the coffee mug, but it did. It settled there, warm and aching, and refused to move.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you said nothing, just took another sip, hoping the bitterness of the drink might ground you.

Luckily, the rest of breakfast had been fine. Wanda kept things light, her voice bright and full of easy cheer, weaving conversation like she’d done this a thousand times. She was the warmth in the room, balancing Natasha’s quiet, guarded presence with ease.

And then Wanda went and ruined the fragile peace. “So,” she said, her tone casual, like she wasn’t about to drop a bomb, “what were you doing at the club?”

The blood drained from your face, replaced by a scorching heat that crept from your neck to your cheeks, blooming across your chest. You hadn’t expected that question, not now at least.

You tried to mask the panic with humour, the words spilling from your mouth like a reflex. “Clearly not the right thing.”

Both women chuckled, but Wanda’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She paused, sensing the shift. “Seriously,” she said, voice more serious now, the edge of concern threading through. “Did something happen? If someone made you uncomfortable, they need to be reported. That place has rules for a reason.”

You could feel the pressure building in your chest, but you waved your hands, desperate to ease the tension. “No, no. Nothing like that. I wasn’t hurt or anything.” You exhaled a long breath, staring at the countertop, trying to steady yourself. “I just…I got overwhelmed. That’s all.”

Wanda’s expression shifted in an instant, the tension in her brow easing, her eyes full of quiet understanding. “It’s a lot to walk into.”

You nodded, feeling sheepish. “Yeah, well. I shouldn’t have let my roommate talk me into it.”

Wanda tilted her head, her brows furrowing with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Wait, if your roommate suggested it, why wasn't she with you?”

You shrugged, trying to keep things casual. “She has a sub of her own. She’s a regular there, and she said if she stayed with me, no one would approach me. They’d think I was hers.”

Wanda blinked, her features shifting slightly as she processed your words. Something flickered across her face, but you couldn’t quite place it. “So,” she said slowly, voice light but edged with something, “you wanted someone to approach you?”

You hesitated, your throat going tight. You weren’t sure how to answer that. “I…I don’t know. I guess? I thought maybe I’d get a better idea of what I wanted.”

“And did you?” Natasha asked, cutting in smoothly, as she casually flipped a page of her newspaper, like the conversation was no more important than the weather.

You let out a breath, the laugh that followed edged with bitterness, sharper than you meant it to be. “No. Not even close. Anyone who tried talking to me was gone in seconds. I don’t know if it was me or my inexperience, but it never went well.” You shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, though the words sat sour on your tongue.

Wanda didn’t answer right away. Just took a slow sip of her coffee, her voice soft when it came. “Or maybe they didn’t wait long enough to see the real you.”

The words hung between you, deceptively light but heavy in their weight, sinking deep before you could stop them.

Your chest tightened. Breath caught halfway. It was like the ground tilted slightly, subtle but disorienting. You couldn’t place why it hit so hard, only that it did.

Wanda watched you quietly, her gaze steady but unreadable. Then, gently, “So…are you still interested in all of this?” Her voice stayed soft, careful, like she was laying the question down instead of pressing it.

You opened your mouth, then paused. The answer was there, somewhere, but it was knotted too tightly to pull free. Your throat burned with the effort.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Obviously, Nat and I were there too, right?” She smiled at you, warm and coaxing. “We’re also interested in that world.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her gaze, like she was waiting for something more from you. “I am. I think I’d like to try it. But I don’t think I could do a club again.” You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest. “I’ll probably just drop it, at least for now.”

There was a long pause. You didn’t know if they were waiting for you to say more or if they were letting you have this moment to gather yourself.

Natasha put her paper down then, her eyes never leaving you, and something unspoken passed between the three of you.

Wanda inhaled deeply, her fingers twisting lightly around the coffee mug. “So, uhm, if this is weird, please tell me to shut up and I’ll never bring it up again,” she said, her voice quieter now, hesitant in a way that caught you completely off-guard. When you looked at her, really looked, her face was pale and uncertain.

“But, Nat and I are looking for a sub,” she finished, the words tumbling out with a breath she clearly hadn’t meant to hold that long.

Your eyebrows flew up before you could stop them, practically launching off your face. “But…but I thought you were married?”

Wanda gave a small, sheepish laugh and pressed a hand to her forehead. “We are,” she said, then grimaced. “God, why is this so awkward?” She paused, visibly trying to steady herself again, and when she spoke, her voice was a little firmer, even if her cheeks were still flushed.

“We’re married, yes. But we’re also both…dominant. I do enjoy submission sometimes, but what I really miss…what we both miss, is taking control. Together. Working with Nat to…” Her voice faltered, eyes flicking to yours, gauging your reaction. “To make someone fall apart.”

The image came unbidden, Wanda and Natasha, hands and mouths and eyes dark with hunger, breaking someone down with the precision of two people who knew exactly how to unravel a soul. It made your stomach swoop and your skin burn in places it had no business burning over breakfast.

“So you’ve had a sub before?” you asked quietly, your voice thinner than it had been a moment ago.

Wanda nodded slowly. Next to you, Natasha shifted, her entire posture went tense, her mouth a thin line. She wasn’t speaking, but her silence said a lot. And then it clicked.

You remembered what she’d said in the café. Something hadn’t gone well last time.

Wanda confirmed your thoughts. “We have. Once. But she wasn’t in it for the right reasons. We met her through an app. We were new to that kind of dynamic, still figuring things out, and she seemed genuine. We didn’t realise how wrong we were.”

Wanda’s eyes lowered to her mug. “In the end, she just used us for money,” Wanda finished, quiet now, “before letting her friends into our place while we were away to rob us blind. We never heard from her again.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because it was the only thing you could think of. “For what it’s worth, that girl was incredibly stupid.”

That earned you a reaction. Wanda’s head lifted, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Natasha looked up at you again, her eyes cooler now, calculating, but not cold.

“Oh yeah?” Wanda asked, amusement creeping back into her voice. “Why’s that?”

You flushed again. You were starting to think it was just your natural state around them. “I…I just mean, you’re good people. You didn’t deserve that. She should’ve seen that.”

Wanda’s smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes lingered on you, watching you in a way that made it feel like she was looking past your words and into your very thoughts. Her head tilted just slightly, and you could feel the weight of her gaze.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, but it carried an edge of something almost vulnerable. “It is what it is, Sweetheart. That’s why we tried the club, but we couldn’t shake the feeling that starting over with someone we didn’t know, someone we didn’t trust, wouldn’t work for us. We’d always expect the worst.”

You nodded, the words settling heavily in the air between you. “I get that. Trust is everything, right? And without it, it’s just not gonna work.” You watched her closely, seeing the faintest nod, her eyes never leaving yours.

“You two are incredible from what I’ve seen,” you added, forcing a smile. “And I’m sure you’ll find someone worthy of you.”

Wanda turned to Natasha, then a brief glance was exchanged between them, their eyes locking in a silent conversation. Natasha gave the smallest nod, but you caught it.

Wanda’s gaze locked with yours, and she hesitated for a moment, her words slower, more deliberate this time. “Maybe I didn’t explain myself clearly earlier, with all my rambling,” she said, her lips curving into a shy, almost uncertain smile. There was an edge of vulnerability in her eyes, a shift in her usual confidence. “But, I was wondering, well, we were wondering if maybe…you’d be interested.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, and your mouth hung open, a hundred different thoughts rushing through your mind. You wanted this. God, you did. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t good enough. “I…I’m flattered, really. But you two deserve better. Like way better.”

Wanda’s gaze was steady and filled with warmth. “You really need to work on your confidence,” she said, her tone rich with quiet affection. “You’re more than enough. You’re beautiful, funny, and though we haven’t known each other long, I trust you.”

Your face flushed, the weight of her words sinking in. “Even if that were the case, I’m just…too inexperienced,” you murmured, your voice faltering under the weight of your insecurity.

Wanda’s smile turned sly, her voice dropping just a touch, making you lean in instinctively. “What if I told you that inexperience is something I actually like?” she said, her tone playful but also filled with something deeper, more magnetic.

You blinked, struggling to process what she was suggesting. “W…Why would you like that?” you stammered, a shiver running through you as her words registered.

Wanda’s smirk grew, more confident now, as she leaned in a little closer. “Because…” she purred, her voice dropping lower, almost teasing, “You’re a clean slate. No bad habits. No expectations. We can shape you, guide you...turn you into ours. ”

Her words hung in the air like a promise, thick with implication. And suddenly, it felt like the ground beneath you shifted, the world outside the kitchen fading until it was just the three of you at the island, suspended in something too delicate to name.

“I…” you started, but the words disintegrated as quickly as they’d come. You blinked, lips parted, your gaze flickering between them, lost.

“It’s okay,” Wanda said gently, her voice coaxing, steady. “Take your time.”

You swallowed. “How would it…How would it work?”

Wanda sat up a little straighter, her fingers curling around her coffee mug again, like it helped with her nerves, maybe. “Well, we’d help where we could. An allowance, support with school, but that’s not the core of it.”

She glanced briefly at Natasha before turning her full attention back to you. “Natasha and I talked last night when we got back, and we agreed that if this conversation happened, we wouldn’t just be asking you to be our sub. You wouldn’t be someone we played with and sent home. We were hoping, if things felt right, that you’d join us. As a girlfriend.”

“Sorry, what?” The words tumbled out of you in a breathless laugh, surprised and disbelieving.

Natasha let out a low, amused laugh beside you, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s about the reaction I expected.”

Wanda didn’t react to Natasha, she only looked at you. “I know it sounds fast. And I’m not trying to push. But I want to be honest about what we’re hoping for.”

You opened your mouth, closed it again. Shaking your head slightly like that might help settle your thoughts.

“I just…” You frowned, confused and overwhelmed. “I didn’t expect this. I didn’t even consider something like this. And I’m not looking for your money. That wouldn’t feel right.”

“That’s okay,” Wanda said quietly. “It’s not payment. It’s support. It’s…part of caring for someone.”

“Right, but you’re married. Why would you want a girlfriend?” you asked, your voice quiet and uncertain.

Natasha answered before Wanda could. “Because she wants someone she can bend over and ruin in every way imaginable, and unfortunately for her, I don’t bend”.

Your brain stalled. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your chest. Your thighs pressed together instinctively beneath the island as your mouth opened, then closed again without a single usable thought behind it.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed, but she shot her wife a flat look. “Natasha!”

Natasha held her hands up, unapologetic. “Just answering the question.”

Wanda gave you a sheepish look before reaching for your hand, her touch barely there, like she was testing the waters. “Yes, I want someone to dominate, someone who craves that kind of care and control. But it’s not just about that.” Her gaze held yours, searching for understanding. “I want someone I can truly connect with. Someone to nurture.” She paused, the weight of her words sinking in. “Someone who feels like the missing piece of us.”

You blinked slowly, trying to process it. The heat still lingered from Natasha’s remark, but now it was layered with something deeper, something heavier.

“That’s a lot of ‘I want,’” you mumbled, not accusing, but cautious. “Not much ‘we want.’” You glanced toward Natasha, your brow furrowed. “You don’t seem entirely comfortable.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was even, but not without tension. “If I weren’t okay with this, this conversation wouldn’t be happening. Period.” But it wasn’t dismissive. It felt more protective and defensive.

“She’s just like that,” Wanda added gently, brushing her fingers along Natasha’s arm. “Hard to read. Scary, even when you don’t know her. But once she lets you in, once she trusts you, she’s a softie. Aren’t you, my love?”

Wanda smirked, deliberately teasing, and Natasha rolled her eyes with a dark chuckle.

“Don’t start,” Natasha warned, her tone low and dangerous in the way that made you shiver. “I can still bend you over this counter and spank you black and blue.”

Your breath hitched, a full-body reaction rippling through you. Wanda stiffened next to you, visibly flustered, and the silence that followed was electric.

“So…very soft,” you muttered, trying to lighten the tension, cheeks blazing. “Clearly.”

They both laughed, unable to resist your silly joke and playful teasing. And you loved it, hearing them laugh was something you wanted to experience over and over again.

“I know I come off cold,” Natasha said after a beat, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “And I definitely don’t look as thrilled as Wanda, but last time hurt. Deeply.”

Your chest ached with the weight behind her words. “If we did this, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

She studied you carefully, “I know,” she said simply. “That’s why I agreed. I see something in you. I see why Wanda has been obsessed with you.”

“Wait, obsessed with me?” you asked, blinking. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha laughed. “For the last week, it’s been nothing but the cute girl in the café. How she wanted to bring you home, feed you, wrap you up in soft things.”

Wanda groaned into her hands, face flushed.

“She didn’t know this would happen, of course,” Natasha continued, tone more serious now. “But even then, she wanted to take care of you. And after last night and today…I kind of get it.”

You looked between them, Wanda, cheeks glowing, eyes bright and so clearly excited she was practically vibrating; and Natasha, lounging in her seat with the same stillness she always carried, but her gaze was steady, direct, and for once not unreadable at all. She looked…open. Present.

And for the first time, you let yourself imagine it. Not just the idea, but the reality, the weight of Wanda’s gaze on you every day, the brush of Natasha’s hand as she passed you your coffee, the sharp crackle of energy that sparked when they were both looking at you like this.

“So, say I was interested,” you said slowly, testing the words like they might burn. “What would happen now?”

Wanda lit up instantly, her smile spreading like sunlight. “Well,” she began, scooting an inch closer, “first things first, we’d have a long conversation. Kinks, limits, safe words, what you want, what you don’t, how you like to be spoken to, how you don’t.”

Your excitement faltered for just a second, replaced by the uncomfortable ache of uncertainty. “But I’m so new. I don’t know my limits, or much about my kinks.” You averted your eyes, suddenly self-conscious.

Wanda’s grin turned wolfish, slow, and unmistakably pleased. “Oh, I can think of a few ways we could figure those out.” Then, catching herself, she tempered it with a gentler look, her voice dipping. “But seriously, it’s okay not to know. That’s why we talk. That’s why we go slow. You’ll learn what you like. What you need. But we do need to talk about hard limits. Safe words. Things that are never okay, even by accident. We take that seriously.”

You nodded, the fire in your stomach flaring again. You were out of your depth. Utterly. But you also didn’t want to run from it. The very idea of exploring that, with them, felt like a door you hadn’t realised you’d been waiting to open.

Natasha shifted beside you and stretched, her back arching until her shoulders cracked. “Alright,” she muttered, standing up. “If we are getting into negotiations, let’s move this to the sofa. My ass is going numb.”

Wanda chuckled, standing too. “Good idea, my love.” Then she turned to Natasha, her eyes holding a warmth in them that always seemed to take you by surprise. “Could you grab us some water?” she asked, her voice gentle, but there was an unmistakable tenderness in the way she looked at Natasha, as if the simple request held more than just practicality.

Natasha was already moving toward the fridge, but tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Think she’s gonna need it.”

Your mouth dropped open at the implication, and Wanda laughed, swatting vaguely in Natasha’s direction.

“Don’t mind her,” she said with a wink. “She just likes watching people squirm.”

“Says you,” Natasha said with a cheeky grin, handing you a bottle of water with a wink as she walked past.

Wanda rolled her eyes and took your hand gently in hers. “Come on. Let’s get comfortable. No pressure, okay? Just…a conversation.”

—

You moved into the living area with quiet, hesitant steps, the plush carpet soft beneath your feet, almost muffling the way your breath hitched. You perched on the edge of the couch, turning sideways so your back could rest against the armrest, knees drawn protectively to your chest.

The position felt safer, smaller. You wrapped your arms around your legs and fidgeted with the water bottle Natasha had handed you earlier, the condensation slipping over your fingers, grounding you just enough.

Wanda was beside you. Close enough that her warmth licked at your foot when she shifted. The contact was minimal, but it might as well have been a brand.

Across from you, Natasha dropped into the single chair with deliberate ease, spreading her legs slightly as she settled in, one arm draped casually over the armrest. The posture looked relaxed, but everything about her screamed alertness.

Wanda’s smile was the first thing to break the tension. It was gentle and warm, but there was something behind it, an intensity, an undercurrent of purpose. “There we go,” she murmured, glancing at Natasha briefly, something unspoken passing between them. “Much better.”

Natasha tilted her head, eyes still fixed on you, and offered a crooked smirk. “Time for the interrogation,” she said smoothly, voice teasing.

Wanda rolled her eyes, a quiet huff escaping her, but the fondness there was unmistakable. “Ignore her,” she said lightly, but her gaze sharpened as it returned to you. “Let’s start easy. Do you have a safe word?”

You blinked. The question landed like a stone in a still pond, sending ripples of nervous energy through you. Your eyes darted between them, unsure who to focus on. “I…I mean, no? I’ve never really needed one,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Your grip tightened on the bottle. “But, uhm, my roommate, she told me about the traffic light system?”

Wanda’s entire face brightened with approval, her lips parting in a pleased little smile that somehow managed to be both reassuring and a little bit proud. “Perfect,” she said, her voice velvet-soft, a touch of something nurturing curling around the word. “We use that too. Simple, but effective.” She paused, head tilting thoughtfully. “Do you know how to communicate when you can’t speak? One tap or squeeze for green, two for yellow, three for red.” Her eyes didn’t leave yours. “It’s important that we can always understand you, no matter what.”

You nodded slowly, some of the fear easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, we talked about this stuff,” you said quietly, your voice gaining strength. You looked down, a bit embarrassed. “Kind of a lot, actually.”

Across from you, Natasha let out a soft chuckle, a low, smoky sound that somehow made you feel both exposed and seen. “Well, that’s handy. Means we can get to the fun stuff much quicker.”

“Fun stuff?” you echoed, almost involuntarily. There was a nervous lilt in your voice, your eyes widening the moment the words slipped out.

Wanda’s lips curled, slow and deliberate, like she was tasting the tension in the room. “Fun stuff,” she echoed, her voice dipping into something darker, more intimate. “When we get to explore all those delicious, twisted things you want to explore.”

The room felt warmer, the air thick with unspoken tension. The words lingered, hanging in the space between you like a tangible weight, their promise settling low in your belly. Wanda let the silence stretch out, watching the way you shifted, just enough to make her smile to herself. Then, her tone shifted, gentle, like she was offering you a fragile reassurance. “But we’ll go slow. I promise.”

A flush crept up your neck, spreading like spilled ink. Your pulse thrummed in your ears. “I…I don’t really know what I like yet,” you murmured, the confession small, uncertain. “I mean, what I know, it’s mostly from my roommate. And, like…Tumblr. Who knew there were so many kinks?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha said, smirking again, “if it can be done, there’s a kink for it. All power to them, but there’s some stuff I don’t like, personally. Piss and shit, for example? That’s a hard limit for me.”

You grimaced instinctively, your whole body recoiling just a little. “Yeah…I don’t want that.”

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a look, then turned identical smiles on you.“Good girl, setting limits already,” Wanda said, her voice dipped in approval.

Your breath hitched. The praise struck something raw and electric inside you, sending a sharp flutter through your chest. Heat pooled low in your belly once again, your fingers twitching and your body fidgeting.

Natasha saw. Wanda definitely saw.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Wanda teased, her smile sharpening into something wicked. “I guess we should note potential praise kink down?”

Your face burned, but you nodded, voice barely a whisper. “I think so…but I, uhm—” You chewed your lip, hesitating, the words stuck in your throat.

Wanda’s hand brushed yours, her touch gentle but reassuring, her eyes soft with encouragement. “You can tell us, sweetheart. You’re doing great,” she murmured, her voice low and patient.

You swallowed hard, heart racing. “I think... I like the idea of being degraded, too,” you admitted, barely audible. Wanda’s lips parted slightly, her gaze sharpening with interest, but she didn’t rush you. She just stayed close, nodding, silently urging you to continue.

You forced the words out, feeling exposed. “And I want to try things that hurt. I—” You trailed off, eyes closing in embarrassment. Wanda’s hand tightened around yours, steadying you, her gaze warm but intense. She didn’t press, just waited for you to finish.

“I had some uhm, reactions when I was reading about them,” you mumbled, too shy to look at her.

Natasha let out a low hum of approval, almost like a growl. She sat up a little straighter in her chair, eyes gleaming with interest. Wanda, on the other hand, was a mix between softness and looking like she wanted to eat you alive, like every word from your mouth made you more delicious, more precious.

“God, you’re perfect already,” Wanda whispered, breathless.

Before you could bask in the warmth of that too long, something sparked in your memory. “Oh! But face slapping,” you said quickly, like the words were chasing each other out of your mouth. “I saw that a lot. And that is a big no. I know that for sure.”

Wanda’s expression shifted, like she wanted to ask, but she didn’t press. “Understood. Noted,” she said, her voice honest and protective. “That’ll never happen then, Sweetheart.”

What followed was a long, very intense conversation about kinks and limits. Natasha would throw out possibilities with the same casualness as asking what someone would want for dinner, and every reaction you gave, every squirm, every soft gasp or wrinkle of your nose was noted with precision.

Wanda was softer, coaxing things from you like secrets, watching how your body responded more than what you said.

You were surprised by how long your “I want to try this” list became. The “absolutely fucking not” list was far shorter, and that thrilled you more than you expected.

Eventually, Wanda reached for your hand, her touch deliberate and comforting. “So,” she started, voice gentle but firm, “we also need to talk names. What you like to be called. And what we’d like to be called.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “Names?”

She nodded, face open, gaze warm. “Mm-hmm. Titles. Terms of endearment. Pet names. Dynamic-specific ones, if they feel right. Not everything has to be sexual, sometimes, they’re just about grounding. About knowing your place with us, even when we’re not touching you.”

“Oh.” You blinked. “Okay. Like what?”

“Well, I like ‘Sweetheart,’ ‘Darling,’ ‘Honey,’ ‘Baby,’ obviously,” Wanda said, her tone light and teasing. “And then there’s ‘Malyshka,” she added, her voice softening, the playful warmth shifting into something deeper. She paused, letting the silence hang for a moment before locking eyes with you, a shadow passing through her gaze. “It can mean two things, baby girl, or...”

Your breath caught, pulse quickening as the tension between you thickened. “O…or?”

“Little One,” Wanda whispered, her words barely audible, but they hit you like a soft, lingering echo that stayed with you long after she'd spoken.

The words landed like a heavy blow to your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t help the sudden heat flooding through you, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your gaze darted away, cheeks flushing hot, a mix of shock and something more flooding your system, a whimper falling from your lips.

Wanda noticed your reaction. Her voice was thick with something dangerous and darkly intimate. “That one hit, didn’t it?” she asked, her smile slow and predatory.

You couldn’t answer, your mouth too dry, but the frantic nod of your head told her everything she needed to know.

Natasha’s voice broke through, amused and approving. “Sweet,” she said, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “I like it too. It suits you.”

You peeked out from behind your hands, flushed, heart still hammering in your chest, but desperate to stay grounded. “So I just pick one?” you asked, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Wanda’s smile curled at the edges, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Or all of them,” she replied, her voice teasing. “If you want them.”

"I…I like them," you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I don’t really mind any pet names. Use whatever feels right. And if I don’t like it, well, I’m sure you’ll be able to tell."

Wanda’s gaze sharpened, her fingers moving to your chin with a quiet firmness, her expression taking on a subtle sternness. "No," she said, her voice gentle but unwavering. “You’ll tell us, understood? Don’t expect us to just know. You need to speak up, okay?"

Something about the firmness in her gaze made your stomach twist. You weren’t used to being asked to speak up, to set boundaries. But there was something in her tone that made you want to try. You nodded, voice small but steady. "Okay. I will."

You barely had time to process Wanda's words before Natasha leaned forward slightly in her chair. Her gaze held a mischievous edge that contrasted with Wanda’s warmth. Her lips curled into a slight smile, the playful glint in her eyes a stark contrast to the serious conversation before.

“My suggestions aren’t quite as cute as Wanda’s,” Natasha said, her voice dipping lower, teasing. “Kotenok or Kitten is what hits me when I look at you. Skittish. Soft. Trouble.”

Another jolt surged through you. Your breath caught again. “Yeah…Yeah…Kitten is good.”

Natasha gave you a slow, approving smile, her eyes glinting with a darkness that made your heart skip a beat. “Perfect, Kotenok (Kitten), ” she murmured, her voice low and controlled. “And just so you know, I tend to lean toward Russian pet names, so you’ll probably hear lots of them, for example, ‘Detka,’ ‘Krasivaya Devushka,’ and maybe even ‘Printsessa.’” (Babe/baby, Pretty girl, Princess). She paused, a hint of mischief in her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what they all mean...over time.”

The sound of those words, so fluid, coming from Natasha’s lips, melted you. Her accent thickened as she spoke, each syllable rolling off her tongue with a slow, deliberate grace. Her voice lowered an octave, and the heat in her gaze made it feel like the room was getting warmer. You couldn’t understand a single word, but it didn’t matter. You’d take whatever she said, in any language.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around yours, her grip grounding you as you spiraled from Natasha’s words, like she knew exactly how they’d rattled you. Her touch pulled you back, steadying you, while her voice held you in place. “And for us,” she said, her eyes locking with yours, “we do have our preferences.”

Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest. Dread and excitement twisted in your belly, knotting together as you felt both women’s gaze on you, different yet equally intense.

Wanda’s smile shifted, becoming something darker, something more dangerous, as she leaned in closer, her breath warm on your ear. “I like being called Mommy.”

Natasha’s voice rang out with no hesitation, deep and commanding. “And I like Daddy.”

It wasn’t just the words, it was the way they said them. Wanda’s voice had a lulling, dangerous sweetness to it, pulling you closer, inviting surrender. Natasha’s tone was firm, commanding, like it could settle deep in your bones, leaving no room for doubt. The combination hit you like a lightning strike, every nerve in your body humming with heat.

“Shit,” you breathed, too overwhelmed to filter your response, the heat from both of them starting to burn through you.

Natasha’s lips quirked into a slow, wicked smile, her eyes glinting with something dark and hungry. “Good shit or bad shit?”

You squirmed under her gaze, trying to stay grounded, but the pull of both women was too much. “I think you know the answer.”

“Maybe I do,” Natasha purred, her voice low and thick with authority, making your pulse spike instantly. She didn’t budge from her chair, but somehow, it felt like she was moving closer to you with every word, the force of her presence suffocating, undeniable. “But maybe you should be using your words, like Mommy asked you to. Tell Daddy you like the idea, Kotenok (Kitten).”

You almost whimpered, but the sound barely escaped, a tremor running through your chest. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, shaken with the weight of everything swirling inside you. The words were raw, pulled from somewhere deep, but before they could consume you completely, Wanda’s voice cut through the haze.

“Natasha,” she said, the warning in her tone undercut with a hint of amusement. “Stop teasing her. You’re not helping.”

Natasha didn’t look the least bit sorry. Her grin only grew, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “I think she needs way more than teasing.”

Heat flooded your body, pooling low in your belly. Your thighs instinctively pressed together, betraying you in the most humiliating way. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but every glance, every word from them twisted something inside you.

You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and an embarrassingly desperate whine escaped, slipping through your clenched teeth. The sound was part shame, part desire, and it made everything tighten further.

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a glance, their eyes darkening in unison, their expressions sharpening, and just like that, they both knew. They saw everything.

“Don’t…don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled, voice small, barely audible as you dipped your head in an attempt to hide the blush burning your skin. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

Wanda laughed, soft and syrupy, the kind of sound that made your skin prickle. “What are you embarrassed about, baby?” she cooed, her voice laced with mock-innocence, almost cruel in its sweetness.

You shook your head quickly, too overwhelmed to speak. “It’s nothing,” you whispered, voice fraying at the edges.

She moved then, just a slight shift, barely more than a lean, and her fingers were under your chin again, before you could prepare for it. Cold rings pressed against your skin as she tilted your face up, slow and deliberate, until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“See, I don’t think it’s nothing,” Wanda murmured, her tone lower now, closer, more intimate. “I think you’re aching, and you don’t know what to do with it.”

You nodded before you even realised you had, your body moving before your mind caught up. It was as if instinct had taken over, bypassing any hesitation. Wanda’s smile grew, a wicked, tender thing, all at once.

“If it helps…” she whispered, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “you’re not the only one.” A pause, and then, “I’ve been wet since the first time you whimpered for me, Sweetheart.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs. Your breath faltered, eyes widening in disbelief. You stared at her, frozen, your mouth hanging open, utterly stunned. A tremor ran through you, the need swelling inside you until it became almost unbearable. You couldn’t form the words, couldn’t bring yourself to speak, but all that ran through your mind was touch me .

Your reaction must have sparked something in Wanda, because her hand shifted from your chin to rest softly against your cheek. Her teasing tone fell away. "Hey, baby, you with me?" she asked, her concern breaking through. "I’m sorry. Did I come on too strong?"

You shook your head almost violently, desperate to push the thought away. No, that wasn’t the problem. That wasn’t the issue at all. The problem was how badly you wanted it. How much you needed something you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“I want—” The words faltered, getting stuck in your throat. You pressed your lips together, heart hammering in your chest. It felt too soon, too much. Even with everything that had been said, could you really ask for this already? What if they turned you away? What if they saw you as desperate? What if you weren’t enough?

Wanda’s brows lifted, but her voice stayed gentle. “Want what, Malyshka (Little One)? ”

Your whole body had jerked at the sound, a shiver crawling up your spine. The way her accent deepened when she said that word? It hit you like a lightning bolt, confirming you had definitely found a new kink. Between her and Natasha, it was inevitable.

You were squirming now, eyes clouded with need, chest heaving with every breath. Without even thinking, your hips shifted, searching for some kind of pressure, any relief, but there was none. It was mortifying, how easily your body betrayed you, how quickly you fell apart under her voice.

Wanda’s smile curved, a glint of something dangerous in her eyes as she watched the way your body moved, squirming under the weight of her words. "Do you want some...help?" she asked, her voice light but carrying an edge, her smile sharp and knowing.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Your throat tightened, as though it had forgotten how to form words. But in the end, it didn’t matter. You nodded, just once, barely a movement, but it felt like surrender, as though you were offering yourself up to whatever came next.

Wanda’s hand stayed gently resting against your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin in slow, rhythmic motions. She watched you unravel, and there was a deep sense of pride in her voice when she spoke. “There you go,” she whispered, the words dripping with satisfaction. “That’s our girl.”

You swallowed hard, fighting to hold onto any semblance of control. Your eyes flickered to Natasha before you could stop them, as if your body had remembered she was there even though your mind had momentarily shut her out. She still sat across the room, lounging in that chair, watching you intently, like a predator assessing its prey.

Wanda noticed the glance, and she leaned in close, her voice dropping low, a soft murmur that sent a shiver through your whole body. "Don’t worry about her," she whispered, her lips brushing your skin as her words sank in. "We agreed she would just watch for today...Our Little One isn't ready for Daddy just yet."

You couldn’t help the tremor that ran down your spine at her words. They hit you like a wave, crashing into you, making your knees fall open slightly without thinking. Your breath stuttered in your throat, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly.

“Oh, sweetheart,�� Wanda cooed, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. Her hand slid down from your cheek to your throat, not squeezing, not threatening, just holding. Her eyes scanned your face for your reaction, and when it was positive, she continued. “You are wound so tight, aren’t you? That pretty little head of yours is spinning.”

You whimpered again, more desperate now. You didn’t know if you wanted her to stop or keep going. Everything inside you was tangled up in heat and shame and the most exquisite ache you’d ever felt.

Wanda kept her attention locked on you, fingertips grazing down your arm now, slow and deliberate, every inch she touched feeling like it burned. “I’ll take care of you,” she promised, her voice velvet-smooth. “But you’re going to ask me for it. Properly. When you’re ready.”

You blinked up at her, wide-eyed and flushed and completely overwhelmed. “I don’t…I don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice high and shaky, barely audible.

Wanda’s expression softened again. “That’s alright,” she murmured. “We’ll teach you. That’s part of it. You don’t need to know anything right now. Just that you’re safe. And that we’ll never take what you don’t give.”

She reached for your hand again, lacing her fingers with yours like before. “You’re doing so well already. I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes stung. Her praise hit harder than anything else had, like you’d been starving for it without realising. Your body ached, but your chest swelled, heat blooming there like sunlight.

Then Wanda kissed you, and it felt like something out of a dream. No urgency. No rush. Just her lips brushing against yours like a question, like she was waiting for you to answer with your body.

Her lips were impossibly soft. She kissed you like you were made of paper, fragile and water-damaged, and she didn’t want to leave a single mark, yet.

Your breath caught the moment her tongue brushed the seam of your mouth, just a test, and you gasped softly, lips parting for her before you could stop yourself.

That was when the first noise slipped out of you. Not a whimper, not yet, just a soft, aching little sigh, like your lungs didn’t know how to hold the heat.

Wanda pulled back the tiniest bit, her mouth hovering so close you could still taste her breath. She smiled. “That’s it,” she murmured, voice low and sweet, like honey melting over hot skin. “Don’t think. Just feel me.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You didn’t know where to put them. You were too nervous to grab her, too overwhelmed to keep still. Every nerve felt raw. Every breath was tight and shallow.

And across the room, Natasha hadn’t moved. She was just watching, her gaze heavy on your flushed face. She hadn’t spoken for a while, but you could feel her approval like a pulse in the air.

Wanda’s kiss deepened slowly. She coaxed your mouth open, tongue slipping past your lips in a way that made your toes curl. Every sound you made just seemed to encourage her, every little whimper, every gasp against her mouth. You could feel yourself trembling and hated how obvious it was…but she didn’t mock you for it. She kissed you harder.

You didn’t realise how fast your chest was rising and falling until she pulled back to speak. “Is it too much?” she asked, voice quiet and close to your ear. Her hand stroked the side of your neck, grounding. “You can tell me, Honey.”

You shook your head, throat tight. “Not enough,” you whispered, and the shame hit immediately, face burning, eyes wide. You couldn’t believe you’d said it out loud.

Wanda made a sound low in her throat, a soft, breathy laugh, thick with delight as she tilted her head to better drink you in. “Oh,” she murmured, voice just shy of mocking. “You’re already there, aren’t you?”

Her lips pressed gently to your cheek, then lower, brushing your jaw, lingering at the corner of your mouth like she was savouring you already.

“Lie back for me,” she said, light and coaxing, but with a flicker of something reverent beneath the teasing. “I need room if I’m going to worship you properly.”

Your arms trembled as you moved, slowly unfolding yourself. You hadn’t even realised how tightly you’d curled inward, hugging your knees to your chest like that might somehow contain the ache building inside you. As if protecting yourself from just how much you needed this.

But Wanda didn’t push. She didn’t rush. She simply waited, her hands stroking slowly down the outside of your thighs in patient, grounding passes, keeping you tethered.

You eased back until you were open to her, lay back, knees bent, feet flat on the sofa cushions, and her mouth dropped open as she looked at you, legs parted just enough, flushed and breathing too hard.

Wanda’s fingers slid under the hem of the loose tee you had borrowed. Her touch was light, her voice even lighter. “Can we see you properly, Little One?” she asked, with none of the teasing from earlier, just soft patience.

You nodded.

But Wanda’s fingers stilled completely against your skin, her touch suddenly so still it burned. Her head tilted slowly, eyes flicking up to meet yours with dark, patient hunger. “Words, darling,” she murmured. “Tell Mommy you want them off.”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard, breath catching on the way out. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible. “Please…Mommy. Take them off.”

Wanda let out a groan that melted into something almost desperate. The title lingered in the air like smoke, curling possessively around her. Her eyelids fluttered as she breathed through the heat. “God, you sound so good when you say that, baby,” she moaned, voice thick with want. “Such a good girl for me.”

Wanda’s fingers twitched back to life, the pause over. She dragged them down the soft line of your stomach, her touch reverent now, like she was unwrapping a gift.

She pushed the hem of the shirt slowly, watching your face more than your skin, reading the way your breath hitched and your chest rose. Her hands were warm, steady as she eased it off you entirely, guiding your arms up and over without a word.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, and you were. You hadn’t even realised it until she pressed her lips to your shoulder, slow and open-mouthed, breathing in the scent of you like it grounded her. “You’re being so brave for me.”

Your face burned as she then reached for the drawstring of your joggers, slipping it loose with deliberate care. She didn’t rush. She didn’t tease. It wasn’t about making you squirm; it was about seeing you, piece by piece, letting you feel every second of it.

She slid the fabric slowly over your hips, the backs of her knuckles grazing sensitive skin on the way down. “Lift your hips for Mommy, baby.”

You obeyed without hesitation, thighs quivering as you raised your hips, trusting her completely. In one fluid motion, Wanda drew your joggers and underwear down together, baring you to the cool air and to her gaze.

Then you were exposed, and Wanda just…stared. Like she couldn’t quite decide where to look first, like every part of you demanded her full attention.

Her hands settled instinctively on your thighs, her thumbs tracing slow, featherlight circles against your skin as her eyes darkened. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed, reverent and a little awed. Then, without looking away from you, she spoke to her wife, “Natasha, look how pretty she is.”

Heat flared instantly in your face. Your eyes flicked toward the chair across the room before you could stop them, and there she was. Natasha hadn’t moved an inch, still lounging like a queen at rest, but her mouth was curled into a sharp, pleased little smile. Her gaze caught yours and didn’t waver, all dark promise and deliberate patience.

A quiet, shameful sound escaped your throat, and Wanda lit up. “Oh,” she laughed, wicked and delighted. “I knew it. You like being watched.”

Mortified, you dropped your head back onto the cushion and slapped a hand over your face, trying to hide. But Wanda only laughed again, sugar-sweet and cruel in the way that made your stomach flip.

“No, Little One,” she scolded gently, tugging your hand away with ease. “None of that. You don’t get to hide, not when you’re this perfect.”

You whimpered again, thighs twitching as your hips shifted against the cushions. Your legs squeezed together, then fell open, helpless. You couldn’t stay still. Every part of you was burning.

Wanda tilted her head, her lashes low, eyes sparkling as she looked at you. “Such a sensitive little thing,” she whispered, the words sliding like velvet over your skin. “And we haven’t even started yet.”

Before you could speak, she leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that left you aching in the chest. Her hand slid up, not between your legs but along your waist, curling around your side to hold you close.

Her mouth moved across your face, over your jaw, and down your neck, where she latched onto your pulse, sucking deeply, deliberately. The sensation jolted through you, and before you could even think, your body arched into it, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Wanda's lips lingered, the bite sinking deeper, her mark burning into your skin like a brand, sending heat spiraling out in waves across your chest.

You whined, your body trembling beneath her, every nerve alive with the intensity of her touch. She hummed against your throat, her tongue sweeping over the mark, and her breath came slow, heavy, each exhale a silent promise of more.

“There,” she breathed, her voice thick with a dark, possessive pride, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she pulled back just enough to study the mark she’d left on you. "God, you look so fucking perfect with my mark on your throat."

Your hips bucked involuntarily, the possessiveness in her tone winding around something deep inside you. She chuckled low, pressing her palm flat to your stomach to keep you still.

“Settle down,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another, then lower. Her hands moved as she did, slow and reverent. She wasn’t trying to rush to anything, she was worshipping you. Making sure you felt every graze of her teeth, every soft scrape of her nails down your sides, every lingering kiss as her mouth charted a path down your trembling body.

When she bit you again, just under your ribs this time, you jolted, another high noise bursting out before you could stop it. She soothed it immediately, nuzzling into your side like she couldn’t bear to be apart from you, even for a moment.

“I love those little sounds you make,” she murmured. “So pretty. So fucking perfect for me.”

You were already trembling, your body humming like a live wire, and she hadn’t even really touched you yet. But you could feel it. The slick heat between your legs, the desperate, aching want that coiled tighter with every second.

When Wanda shifted, sliding lower down the sofa and settling between your thighs, your breath caught in your chest like a punch.

“Breathe for me, Little One,” she said softly, her voice gentling as both hands returned to your thighs. Her thumbs moved in slow, soothing circles, grounding you with each pass. “You’re doing so well, but you need to breathe.”

You nodded shakily, dragging in a broken gasp, lungs finally loosening under her attention. Wanda leaned in and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, right at the apex, so close it made you twitch.

Her breath ghosted over slick, flushed skin, and then she kissed again. And again. Gentle. No bite this time. Just lips. Warm and reverent and unbearably soft.

You sobbed at the sensation, legs twitching, instinctively trying to close around her head, but her hands held you open.

��Are you ready for me, Sweetheart?” she murmured, looking up at you with eyes too focused, too careful, like nothing else in the world existed except your answer.

You nodded, then remembered. Words. She needed words. “Y...yes,” you managed, voice cracking. “I’m ready.”

Wanda smiled, proud and soft and utterly devastating. “Good girl,” she praised. Her hand slid slightly higher, teasing. “Now tell me what colour you are, hm?”

“G...green,” you blurted, the word high-pitched, nearly a whimper. Your body clenched with the surge of heat the check-in triggered, need sparking sharply under your skin. “I’m green.”

Her smile deepened, and she nodded. “That’s my good girl. And if you want to stop?”

You let out a desperate, wounded little whine. “Yellow or red,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Please, Mommy, please! I’ll say it if I need to just—”

She let out a soft chuckle, a kiss pressed between your thighs. “I’ve got you. Keep your legs open for me,” she murmured. And you opened up for her, you knew you would do anything she asked of you, right now.

As you obeyed, Wanda let out a breath, slow, shaky, like she needed the moment to collect herself. Her palms skimmed up the insides of your thighs, warm and firm, coaxing you open even further, keeping you bared beneath her gaze. She didn’t rush. Just held you there, eyes drinking you in like something sacred.

“You’re going to be so good for me,” she murmured, voice low and velvety, thick with heat and something deeper. Not a question, not quite a command, more like a vow. Her gaze flicked up, locking with yours. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded too fast, too eager, once again forgetting words. Your head fell back against the cushion, mouth open as you sucked in shallow breaths, dazed and trembling.

Wanda’s fingers pressed just a little harder into the soft flesh of your thigh, a subtle squeeze. A quiet correction, not born of anger but patience, like she was guiding you, gently coaxing obedience into instinct.

Her voice followed, low and coaxing, velvet over steel. “Ah-ah. Use your words for me, Sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed, so desperate it came out as a sob. “Yes, I’ll be good, Mommy. I promise! Please—”

Wanda smiled. She didn’t respond with words. She lowered her mouth instead.

The first touch of her tongue was impossibly soft, barely more than a kiss, just a warm, wet brush that sent your whole body taut. You let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a moan and a cry, hips twitching, only for her palms to flatten against your inner thighs and hold you steady, immovable.

She pulled back immediately, her lips wet and shining, her eyes dark with something feral, in a way that made your stomach flip. “Stay still,” she murmured, voice low and commanding, and it hit you somewhere deep.

You froze, muscles trembling with the effort, breath catching in your throat. But the way she looked right now? Flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes fixed on you like she was starving for more? You didn’t even need her touch. That look alone was enough to ruin you.

Nonetheless, she leaned in again, slower this time, licking a flat stripe up your centre, and you nearly came from the sound alone. The soft, slick drag. Her low hum. The soft, wet suction as her lips closed around your clit for just a second before pulling away again.

A loud moan spilled from your throat as your back arched off the sofa. “Oh, Mommy!”

Wanda hummed, pleased and hungry, her voice dipping lower, raspier, heat threaded through every word. “Does that feel good, Little One?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “You taste so sweet…”

And then, Wanda truly began. Her tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing you with maddening precision, as if she had all the time in the world to explore every inch of your cunt.

Each flick, each circle sent electric jolts through your body, teasing and torturing with perfect timing. Every pause felt like an eternity, just long enough for you to think she might be done, only for her to dive back in, harder, deeper.

Wanda slid her arm beneath your thigh and lifted, settling your leg over her shoulder like you weighed nothing at all. You let her. You didn’t even think; your body just obeyed, limp and aching and wide open.

The moment her tongue ran through your folds again, your hands found her hair, gripping it with a desperate urgency that made your knuckles throb. You clung to her like she was the only anchor in a storm, your body trembling with need.

The words spilled from your lips without hesitation, desperate and raw. “Mmmm, Mommy! Yes, please…don’t stop…more!” you begged, voice shaky, almost frantic. You didn’t care anymore, didn’t care how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was the aching hunger inside you, the overwhelming need that Wanda was slowly, perfectly, fulfilling.

Her tongue pressed deeper, more purposeful, sliding through your slick folds with aching precision. Every stroke came with a little more pressure, a little more hunger, as if your taste had lit a fuse in her.

She moaned softly against you, the sound sending a shock through your spine, and her hands gripped tighter, one anchoring your thigh, the other still holding you down as you writhed below her.

She found a rhythm that made you keen and she circled, sucked and licked at your clit like she wanted to drag it out until you forgot how to do anything but fall apart for her.

“Such a good girl,” Wanda breathed against you, her voice wrecked with hunger and lust. The words vibrated through you, each syllable soaked in pride, in possession. “So sensitive…look at you.”

Heat poured off you in waves. You were burning. Every inch of your skin felt too tight, every nerve alive and screaming. Her mouth didn’t relent, and your body responded with sobs, helpless, choked little cries that crawled up your throat unbidden.

You were shaking, desperate for release but far too overwhelmed to ask for it, like your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to run or fall apart right there beneath her.

Your eyes squeezed shut, vision swimming, the world narrowing to nothing but her, her mouth, her voice, her hands. Until you heard, “Look at her.” A low, smooth voice cut through the haze, amused and dark. Natasha. “Wanda, you’re going to break her.”

It hit you like a lightning strike. Shame and arousal collided so violently that it knocked the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t believe you’d forgotten she was there. But of course she was.

But now, her voice cut through the fog, pulling you from the tight grip Wanda had on you, the overwhelming rush of sensation temporarily halted as your face flushed with heat. The reality of the moment hit harder than the pleasure had, and yet, it anchored you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Wanda didn’t look away from you. She didn’t even pause. Her mouth just closed over your clit again, firmer now. Your thighs tensed under her grip. Your back lifted. You were sobbing her title like it was the only thing you knew. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…”

“Shh,” she whispered, “You’re okay. You’re doing so well.”

You were too far gone to respond. Your mouth opened, a moan catching in your throat and sticking there as you ground helplessly into her mouth, chasing your pleasure.

Wanda moaned into you, it was low, deliberate, a sound soaked in hunger, and the vibration of it rippled straight through your core. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t restrained. It was carnal, shameless, and it nearly undid you on the spot.

Your whole body jolted like it had been struck, legs trembling as you continued to grind into her face as the pleasure spiked white-hot and unbearable.

Wanda then chose to experiment with another of the kinks you mentioned, her voice rough as she spoke. “Mmm such a desperate whore,” she moaned. “Grinding your cunt into Mommy’s face, such a dirty little girl.”

And that…that…was what broke you. You’d suspected, thanks to those deep dives on Tumblr, that it would do something to you…But hearing it for real, hearing it from Wanda . It didn’t just undo you, it detonated something inside you.

You were spiralling now, clinging to the sensation, chasing the edge that felt so close you could taste it. You needed to fall. You needed it, more than breath, more than sense, more than anything you’d ever needed before.

“I...I’m—” The words got stuck in your throat, too tangled up with the raw ache consuming you. “Please!” The plea came out desperate, ragged, your voice a broken whisper of need.

Wanda lifted her mouth just long enough to look up at you, her chin glistening, her eyes blown wide with hunger. “Let go,” she whispered. “Cum for me, Malyshka (Little One). ”

And you did. You shattered. Loudly, helplessly, trembling so hard your teeth nearly chattered, a scream tearing from your throat as every nerve in your body lit up and snapped loose all at once.

Wanda didn’t stop. She licked you through it, steady and patient, never pulling away even as your thighs clamped around her shoulders and your hips jolted beneath her mouth. She drank every twitch, every sob, until you were limp and gasping and twitching from overstimulation.

Only then did she slow, then finally, finally pulled back. Her face was flushed, her lips red, eyes dark and glassy with want.

She looked up at you like she wasn’t quite done. “Such a good girl,” she whispered, crawling back up over your trembling body. “If this weren't our first time, I wouldn't be finished with you yet.”

You were whimpering, breath catching in your throat over and over like you couldn’t get enough air.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her hands feather-light now, reverent. “You did so well for me. You were perfect.”

You were too far gone to speak. You blinked up at her through wet lashes, barely able to focus, your whole body trembling with the aftershocks of everything she’d pulled from you.

Wanda leaned down and kissed you. You tasted yourself on her mouth, but all you could feel was the way she held your face in both hands like you were breakable now, like she wanted to kiss every cry back into your body.

She reached for you with both arms and pulled you straight into her chest, tucking your head beneath her chin. You folded willingly, instinctively, curling into the heat of her body as though it was the only place in the world you’d ever felt safe. She held you there, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, the other stroking along your spine in long, calming passes.

“There we go,” she murmured, so soft it was nearly inaudible. “Come here, darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t, not yet. But you clung weakly to her hoodie, your fingers barely gripping the hem, and Wanda’s mouth found the crown of your head and kissed it, slow and sure and overflowing with something too full to name.

There was movement to your left, measured and careful. Natasha. She had been quiet the whole time, hadn’t touched you once. But now she approached with something folded in her arms.

“I thought this might help,” she said, voice hushed.. She knelt beside the couch, holding out both the bottle you’d left earlier and a thick, soft blanket.

Wanda adjusted you slightly so she could reach without disturbing your place against her chest, accepting both items with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

She opened the blanket first, shaking it out one-handed with practiced ease, and Natasha helped drape it over your back and shoulders, tucking it in so gently it barely felt like anything at all. Still, the weight of it made your chest wobble with an aftershock of emotion; it was warm, soft, and it covered you. Like a shield.

You made a tiny sound, something caught between a sigh and a sob, and Wanda only pulled you tighter. “You’re not vulnerable, Little One,” she whispered into your hair. “Not here. Not with us.”

Natasha’s hand briefly, barely brushed over your shoulder as she pulled the blanket more snug around your side. Then she leaned in, close enough that you could smell her perfume, and offered you the water, unscrewed and waiting.

“Slow sips,” she said gently.

Your hands shook, but Wanda helped you guide the bottle, letting you rest against her chest as you drank. You managed a few small sips before your throat threatened to close again, overwhelmed by everything by touch, by sound, by being seen. You pulled back slightly, your eyes watery, and Wanda was already there, thumb brushing the side of your face.

“That’s enough for now,” she said softly, taking the bottle and setting it aside. “You did so well. Just breathe.”

You nodded, barely, and Wanda held you even closer, curling one leg beneath her on the sofa so she could keep your body entirely against hers. She wrapped the blanket more securely around your back, and her lips found your temple, your cheek, your jaw. Every kiss was slow. Careful. Anchored in a depth of feeling that made your chest ache.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured. “You gave me everything, and you were so brave.”

Natasha shifted subtly, her gaze soft and steady. Her voice was lower now, gentle in a way it rarely was. “You were breathtaking,” she said. “Really.”

You blinked at her, breath hitching, but all she did was reach out and brush your hair out of your face, her touch light as air. You hid your face again in Wanda’s neck, overwhelmed all over again, but in a way that felt like comfort. Maybe even like home.

—

The rest of the day was a haze of comfort and unease. Wanda stayed by your side, her touch unyielding, grounding you whenever you felt adrift. She kept you close, either holding you or brushing against you constantly, her presence soft and reassuring.

It was as if she sensed something was off, that your mind was clouded, your thoughts scattered, and your body delicate. You couldn’t fully settle, but Wanda was there, pulling you back whenever you zoned out. Her smile, warm and steady, reminded you she was present, even when you couldn’t quite make sense of what you were feeling.

Natasha, on the other hand, had pulled away. As the day wore on, she became more distant, both physically and emotionally. The same barrier that had seemed to lift during your earlier conversation had slammed back into place, stronger than before. You couldn’t shake the feeling that she was second-guessing everything now that it had all become real.

The thought struck harder than you expected, a sharp ache in your chest that wouldn’t let go. A wave of loneliness, of abandonment, washed over you, and you couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it hurt so much? You barely knew Natasha, so why did it matter?

As the day went on, Wanda seemed to sense the unease building within you. She noticed the glances you cast toward Natasha, the way your gaze lingered. Each time, she’d murmur something soothing, reassuring you that it was okay, that Natasha just needed time to process her own feelings.

And in some way, that helped. Wanda didn’t seem concerned, her belief that this wasn’t the end giving you a strange sense of comfort. If she wasn’t worried, maybe you didn’t need to be either. Slowly, you allowed yourself to relax into that belief.

When it was finally time to leave, Wanda’s sadness was obvious. She kissed you gently on the cheek, her touch lingering as she looked at you with eyes full of things left unsaid. Natasha, though, had a different expression. Her smile was faint, polite, but you could sense the relief in her that the day was over.

Before you left, Wanda made sure to add both her and Natasha’s numbers to your phone, and then put yours in theirs. She followed it up by insisting you log into her Uber account. “You’re not paying for rides to our place,” she said, her tone firm but gentle, as though the matter was settled. Her quiet confidence made it clear this wasn’t just a one-time thing. You’d be back, she was certain of it, and somehow, that certainty gave you a strange sense of comfort, even as your emotions swirled inside.

You left their house feeling lighter, but still overwhelmed. The quiet warmth of Wanda’s comfort stayed with you, but so did the knot of uncertainty in your chest. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it, the weight of starting college. You didn’t know how you’d handle it, but for now, you just had to move forward.

—

Your first day of college had dragged on, with it being the first day, there was absolutely nothing interesting, just a never-ending loop of syllabi readings and assignments you could barely muster the energy to care about. Every class felt like a lecture in monotony, and you found yourself wondering, for the umpteenth time, why you’d even bothered to sign up for this.

You slouched into your seat, dragging your feet like the rest of the half-dead students shuffling in behind you.

You scanned the syllabus again, hoping maybe you’d missed something less soul-crushing the first time. Nope, dense readings, no extensions, mandatory participation. You didn’t know much about the professor for this class beyond the basics: she was strict, she was demanding, and she didn’t tolerate nonsense, and you could see that in her syllabus.

One class left. One more hour, and then you could go home, grab something greasy, and let Kate grill you about your mysterious Saturday night. You weren’t looking forward to that conversation, but at least it wasn’t another lecture.

Then the door opened, and everything came crashing down.

You barely looked up at first, expecting someone completely forgettable. Sensible shoes. A cardigan. Maybe a sigh as they pulled out their notes. But then you glanced up, and your stomach plummeted.

It was Natasha.

No. No. Not Natasha.

Professor Romanoff.

Your body froze, rigid, like a deer caught in headlights. Shit. You hadn’t asked her last name. Hadn’t asked what she did for work. You’d just assumed she was something powerful, a lawyer maybe. Never in your worst nightmares had you imagined she'd be standing at the front of your classroom, like she hadn’t just watched her wife tear you apart on their sofa the day before.

She moved to the front like she owned the ground she walked on. Back straight, jaw set, and when she turned to address the room, her eyes swept over the crowd like a searchlight, briefly landing on you. For a split second, your breath caught, but there was nothing in her gaze. No recognition. No warmth. Just a cold, professional indifference.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice low, controlled, and sharp. Just as you remembered it. “I’m Professor Romanoff. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours. And yes, they’re true. I expect discipline and respect. Follow my rules, and we’ll have no problems. Break them, and you’ll be out of this class without hesitation.”

Your chest tightened, and your head went foggy. Every word out of her mouth hit you like a wave crashing over you, one after the other, drowning you. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your body buzzed with disbelief.

The rest of the class became a blur. She spoke, she walked through slides, she gestured to the syllabus, but all you could hear was static. Every syllable of her voice felt like nails on a chalkboard, scraping across your skin. The tension built in your chest until it was suffocating.

By the time class ended, you bolted from your seat, nearly knocking into someone in your haste to escape. The cool air outside was a relief, thin and sharp, but at least it wasn’t soaked in her perfume or her unyielding authority.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and your heart skipped a beat.

Natasha: We need to talk. Meet me at the gas station. You know the car.

It wasn’t a question, it was a command. A part of you wanted to switch your phone off, go home to Kate, crawl into bed, and pretend the message didn’t exist. But the other part, the one still reeling from how Natasha had looked straight through you like a stranger, knew ignoring her wouldn’t make this go away. It would only make it worse.

You texted Kate a rushed excuse and made your way to the gas station. Natasha was already parked, sunglasses on, face unreadable. You knocked lightly on the window. She didn’t say a word, just motioned for you to get in. You did.

“Where…where are we going?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if speaking was even allowed.

“To see Wanda,” she said tightly, jaw clenched. “This is going to break her heart.”

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t dare say anything else. Neither did she. The car ride passed in tense, suffocating silence, your pulse hammering harder the closer you got. By the time she pulled into the driveway, your stomach was twisted in knots.

Wanda opened the door with a smile, immediately pulling Natasha into a hug, her voice light. “Hi, my love,” she said, then glanced past her to see you, small and shaking behind. “Nat? Why’s our Little One here, looking like that?”

“Maybe she should explain,” Natasha said, her voice low, each word bitten off with sharp precision. The calm she’d worn like armour since she saw you cracked at the edges now, something colder slipping through, something furious.

Wanda blinked, visibly confused, her gaze shifting between the two of you as she guided you both inside with careful hands.

Inside, Natasha stayed standing, rigid, coiled across from you, while Wanda hovered by your side, concern etched into her brow. “Did something happen?” she asked carefully, though her eyes were already searching yours, catching how you shook.

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, dry, humourless, and dangerous. “You could say that,” she snapped, then turned to face you, eyes narrowing like twin blades. “It happened again, Wanda. We’re being used.”

The words were a slap. Your heart stuttered, and beside you, Wanda’s head snapped toward her wife, brows pulling into a deep, confused frown. “What?”

“She’s in my class,” Natasha spat. “My fucking class. She played the innocent routine, wormed her way in, probably thought that whoring herself out would get her better grades.”

“Natasha!” Wanda’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.

But you were already gasping. “N-no,” you managed to get out, “that’s not true! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

Natasha stepped closer. “You expect me to believe that?”

Yes!” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t know! I never saw your full name! The portal just said ‘Professor Romanoff’ and there wasn’t even a photo, I…I didn’t know it was you! I swear, I swear—!”

You backed up instinctively. Wanda’s hand caught your elbow, but it wasn’t grounding; your whole body was trembling, heat rising to your face, your limbs cold.

“No?” Natasha’s voice sliced through the air, cold and sharp, every word like a lash. “You just happened to end up in my class, right? You think I’m stupid?”

The words hit you like a freight train, but it wasn’t just the anger that crushed you; it was the way it landed, sharp and bitter, just like everything you’d heard your whole life. Your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out, desperate, broken.

“No! I’m the stupid one, okay?” you screamed, your voice high-pitched and strangled, raw with panic. The pressure in your chest felt like it might suffocate you. Your mind spiraled, racing through a thousand memories, a thousand voices all telling you the same thing. It was all crashing down on you, everything you feared, everything you hated about yourself, flooding to the surface.

“I’m stupid! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, please, just, please believe me, please!” The words rushed out, tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. “I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know you were my professor! I should’ve known, I should’ve checked! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m just…I’m stupid, I’m so stupid…” Your voice broke, your knees feeling weak, your mind a blur of self-doubt.

You could barely see, everything blurred behind a wall of hot, stinging tears. The room faded around you, all sound drowned out by the roar of your breathing, the relentless pounding of your heart in your ears. You were spiralling, free-falling into that familiar place, the one carved out by years of being wrong, being too much, not enough, always failing. You had ruined everything again.

You didn’t see Natasha’s expression shift, didn’t catch the way her posture softened, the fire in her eyes dimming into something far more fragile, fear, concern, guilt. You didn’t notice her step forward, slow and cautious, pulled not by anger anymore but by instinct, by the quiet, urgent need to soothe. You didn’t see any of it.

All you registered was her hand rising toward your face. And your body reacted before your thoughts could. You flinched, violently, arms flying up to shield yourself, your whole body recoiling with a panicked jolt. You stumbled back, your breath catching in your throat, eyes wide and glassy with terror as you braced for impact.

Natasha froze. Her hand hung in the air, suspended in horror, fingers trembling. The colour drained from her face as the realisation hit: you were afraid of her. And it was clear that someone else had carved that fear into your bones long before now.

“Detka…(babe)” she breathed, voice shattered, barely more than a whisper.

You couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at Wanda either. You kept your arms up like a shield, like you could somehow disappear behind them, like maybe if you were small enough, quiet enough, sorry enough, they’d forget you’d ruined everything.

“I didn’t mean to….I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know,” you choked out, your voice thin and brittle, like glass about to crack. “I wasn’t trying to get anything from you, I wasn’t…I wasn’t using you, I wouldn’t, please.”

Your knees buckled slightly, your whole frame shaking, and finally, Wanda moved. “Oh, Sweetheart,” she whispered, rushing to your side, gently wrapping an arm around your waist before you could collapse completely.

Her hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you in, holding you like you might break apart. “No, no, darling, no one’s mad at you, okay? You’re okay, I promise, you’re safe.”

Natasha hadn’t moved. She was still standing in place, her jaw slack, her hand slowly lowering as her chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. Her eyes were locked on you, wide and glassy.

“I thought—” she tried, but her voice failed. She swallowed hard, blinking fast, like she couldn’t quite breathe. “I thought it was happening again.”

Wanda glanced over her shoulder at her wife, her voice still low but firm. “She didn’t know, Nat...It was just fate.”

“I know,” Natasha whispered. “I know that now. I just, when I saw her in that room, it felt like before.” She let out a breath like she’d been holding it since the moment she walked into the classroom.

You peeked up through your lashes, finally daring to meet her eyes. The anger was gone. All that was left was guilt and something painfully soft.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Natasha said, slowly, deliberately, her voice aching with apology. “I was, shit, I was trying to comfort you. I didn’t think—”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, because it was all you knew how to say.

Wanda stroked your hair gently, her voice firm. “You don’t need to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing.”

But still, the words hung between the three of you like smoke.

Natasha stepped forward, painfully slow, eyes flicking from you to Wanda and back again. She crouched a little, dropping down to your level, her voice raw and barely holding together. “Can I…?” she asked, hand hovering just inches from your arm. “Can I touch you?”

Your breath hitched, but you gave the smallest nod.

The moment her fingers brushed your skin, everything in Natasha crumbled. She sank the rest of the way down, arms folding around you gently as Wanda kept one around your shoulders. The weight of both of them wrapped around you, solid and warm.

“I’ve got you,” Natasha murmured. “ We’ve got you.”

Natasha didn’t let go. Not for a long moment. Her arms stayed around you, gentle and steady, never demanding, just there, like a tether, like she was trying to imprint your shape into her bones, as if by holding you now she could somehow make up for every second she hadn’t before. You felt the way her hands trembled, how her breath caught against your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, the words cracking on the way out. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a single fucking thing. This is on me. All of it.”

Your body was still stiff, every muscle drawn tight like a bowstring, your breaths coming in hiccupping, uneven bursts, your chest aching from how fast your heart was racing. But even through the storm inside you, you didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not when her voice sounded like it was breaking apart just to reach you.

“I should’ve seen you,” Natasha murmured, forehead pressed gently to your shoulder. “I should’ve looked. I should’ve listened. You were terrified, and I was too wrapped up in my own shit, too scared of being used, too angry to even ask. I didn’t give you a chance. I just assumed the worst. And I...”

“Nat…” Wanda said softly, a hand on her back now, grounding her.

But Natasha shook her head, voice raw. “No. She needs to hear this.”

She shifted just enough that you could feel the ghost of her breath against your throat, her hands still steady on your sides, but now you noticed the shake in her fingers. Not from rage. Not anymore.

“You looked at me like I was going to hit you,” she whispered. “And I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. But I need you to hear this, I will never hurt you like that. Not ever. Not unless you ask for it. Not unless we talk about it, plan for it, and make it safe.”

Your voice was barely audible, crushed beneath the weight of your own guilt. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I didn’t know. I should’ve…I should’ve guessed, I should’ve asked, I’m so stupid—”

“Stop.” Wanda’s voice broke through, warm and firm. Her fingers tipped your chin up, her eyes locking with yours, full of calm and command. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to know everything.”

You whimpered, a soft sound full of doubt and disbelief, but you didn’t look away.

“You’re not stupid,” Natasha echoed, gentler now, her hand brushing your cheek in the softest touch. “I can tell you’ve been taught to expect the worst. To believe it’s always your fault. You’ve been made to apologise for existing, haven’t you?”

You nodded without meaning to, like your body had been waiting for someone to say it out loud for years.

And Natasha’s whole expression shifted, darkening, not with fury at you, but at the unseen ghosts still haunting you. Her voice dropped, low and furious, like a promise carved in steel. “Just one word from you, and I’ll destroy them, just tell me, Little One, and I’ll fix it.”

The title caught you off guard, like a splash of sunlight after days of rain. Your chest fluttered. Your heart squeezed.

“Little One?” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper, fragile and shaking under the weight of your doubt. “I’m still your Little One? After everything? You didn’t even want me in the first place…surely you can’t want me now?”

Natasha’s face crumpled, like it physically pained her to hear you say that, and in that instant, everything she had been holding back cracked wide open.

“Sweet girl…” she whispered, her voice raw, fingers trembling as they cupped your face. “Stop. Please. I wanted you. I want you. I care about you more than I ever thought possible.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I was scared of how you made me feel. It came on so fast, and I didn't expect to care so soon. But you were so perfect with Wanda. So soft, so beautiful. And I pulled away because I was so afraid of getting lost in you, but fuck, I don’t care anymore. I’m done being scared.”

Behind you, Wanda’s arms tightened around your waist, pressing herself into you as if she, too, needed this moment of vulnerability. “We want you. Both of us, ” Wanda said quietly, her voice steady but full of feeling. “Don’t ever think we don’t.”

Your voice cracked as you looked at Natasha, your eyes full of uncertainty. “But…what about college?”

Natasha gave a small, determined shrug, the weight of her resolve settling in her gaze. “We’ll make it work. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever. You’re ours.”

And in that moment, with both of them holding you, Natasha’s forehead pressed to yours, her grip grounding you like she was afraid to let go, Wanda’s warmth surrounding you from behind, you finally leaned into them completely.

That day had changed everything for both you and Natasha. For the first time in your life, you knew, without any doubt, that you could finally drop your walls.

Natasha, too, had her own shift. She realised, with a painful clarity, that by clinging to her past wounds, she wasn’t just hurting herself. She was hurting you. She was hurting Wanda. And even though you’d only known each other for a matter of days, there was a deep understanding between the three of you.

You felt it in your bones, the unspoken certainty that this was just the beginning. Something beautiful, something real, was waiting to grow between you all.

At first, despite the growing trust, things weren’t always easy. Especially when it came to punishment. There were moments, early on, when the balance wasn’t yet settled, when the rules were still new, still unfamiliar. Punishments were more frequent as you navigated this delicate dynamic, learning where the boundaries lay.

But any time you flinched in that way, any time your mind betrayed you, when the old instincts to recoil and protect yourself kicked in, they were there. They’d stop. They’d call the safeword, and the world would pause.

In those moments, no matter how intense the scene, no matter how harsh the lesson, they always made sure you knew one thing: you were safe. “Safe” wasn’t just a word; it was a promise.

With each moment they showed you that you were cared for, each time they respected your limits, it became easier. And then, eventually, there was a shift. You stopped flinching. You stopped questioning, stopped second-guessing.

The trust settled into you like a warm embrace, a sensation so profound you hadn’t even known it was possible. In their presence, you were safe, utterly, completely safe, and the weight of that truth was something you’d never imagined could exist.

Vulnerability no longer felt like a weight; it became a gift, something you could offer freely, without fear, because they had shown you that you didn’t need to protect yourself anymore. They would do that for you now. And in that space, you learned to give them everything, your trust, your heart, your willingness to surrender it all.

Because you knew, deep within your bones, that they would handle it with a tenderness, a devotion, that made you feel like you had finally come home.

—

Did I need to make this as angsty as I did? Probably not. But did I do it because I love exploring how trust builds after darkness? Definitely. What can I say, a damaged girl needing care and love is my thing. Sorry, not sorry. Hope you still enjoyed it!

Taglist: @angelicbrats @chansawrelier

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff smut #mommy wanda #daddy natasha #wlw smut #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #switch wanda #Bishovapls Fics #kate bishop #yelena belova #rio vidal #our little one

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dontrllycaretbh · 12 days ago

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Title: out of bounds

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!referee!reader

Warnings: intense eye contact, mutual pining, one-sided thirst that maybe isn’t so one-sided, light swearing, ref/player boundary flirting, suggestive banter, dangerously close breathing distance

Summary:

You’re just trying to keep the game under control when Paige Bueckers — Dallas Wings star and certified chaos magnet — decides your foul call is personal.

You knew this game would be a mess the second Paige Bueckers stepped on the court.

She didn’t walk, not really. She glided. Like she owned every square inch of the floor. High ponytail bouncing, sleeves pushed up, face unreadable except for that glint in her eye — that “I’m here to fuck shit up” glint.

You’d reffed her before. Once, in preseason. She’d barely acknowledged you.

But tonight?

Tonight she was loud. Aggressive. Flashy. And if you were being honest — which you weren’t, at least not out loud — she was magnetic.

Which made this moment 10x worse.

Because now you’d just called her for an offensive foul, and she was storming toward you like she wanted blood.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she growled, practically nose-to-nose with you at half court.

Her voice was raspy from yelling all night. Her jersey clung to her shoulder blades. There was a bead of sweat tracing a path down the side of her neck, and you had the very inconvenient urge to watch it.

You took a breath. You were the professional here.

“Lowered shoulder. Initiated contact,” you said evenly. “Clear charge.”

“She flopped,” Paige snapped, pointing dramatically back at the defender, who was still on the floor. “She threw herself into a trust fall!”

“She drew contact.”

“I’m allowed to drive! That’s not a foul — that’s me playing fucking basketball!”

You raised your eyebrows. “You done?”

She stared you down, jaw tight. “Are you?”

You swallowed. Because she had that look — the wild, unfiltered fire behind her eyes that said she wasn’t going to back down. Not now. Not ever.

But God help you, she was so damn hot when she was pissed.

Not that you’d ever admit it. To anyone. Ever.

“You wanna keep going?” you said, keeping your tone steady. “I can make it a tech.”

“Ohhh,” she said, taking one infuriating step closer. “Gonna hit me with the whistle again?”

Your heart did a dumb little skip. “Don’t test me, Bueckers.”

“You’re itching to blow that thing.”

Was she flirting?

You glanced at the scorer’s table, willing someone — anyone — to call a timeout. To intervene. To break whatever weird electric current had locked the two of you in this personal bubble of stubbornness and stupidly attractive tension.

Instead, the game clock ran, the crowd roared, and Paige stood in front of you like a dare dressed in a Wings jersey.

“You think I’m soft?” she asked, lower now, voice just for you.

You blinked. “What?”

“You said it was a charge. You think I’m not tough enough to finish through contact?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant,” she shot back. “You’ve been calling me tight all night. Every bump. Every glance. You’ve got it out for me.”

You blinked again. “You think I called that because I’m… what? Targeting you?”

“Not targeting,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Watching.”

Your throat tightened.

She leaned in, just slightly. “You’ve been watching me all game.”

“I’m a ref,” you said, flat. “That’s my job.”

“Yeah?” she smirked. “Then why do you know I switched my ponytail to the left side at halftime?”

You flushed. Visibly.

Paige grinned like she’d just hit a buzzer beater.

“Go sit down,” you said, voice a little too sharp now. “Bench. Cool off.”

“Oh, so now you do want space.”

You nearly gave her a technical just to get her away from you — and from the burning heat in your chest.

She started to turn, then paused.

“But hey,” she said, glancing at you over her shoulder. “Keep watching. I’ll make it worth it.”

And she winked.

WINKED.

You stood there, frozen mid-breath, as Paige jogged back toward the bench like she hadn’t just set your entire nervous system on fire in front of 17,000 people.

Someone behind you chuckled. “Ref’s about to pass out.”

You honestly weren’t sure they were wrong.

Fourth Quarter.

Dallas was up by three. Two minutes left. The arena shook with energy. You tried to focus, but every time you glanced at Paige, she was already looking at you.

Once, during a free throw, she licked her lips and winked again.

Another time, she adjusted her jersey in slow motion, eyes locked on yours like it was intentional.

At one point, she muttered something to her teammate and looked right at you when they both laughed.

You were losing it. Absolutely spiraling. And the worst part?

She knew.

Postgame.

Dallas won by five. The buzzer sounded. Fans erupted. You blew your final whistle and turned to hand off your clipboard to the league official—only to find Paige standing there. Waiting.

“Still mad about the foul?” you asked cautiously.

She grinned. “Nah. You were right.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

“About the charge,” she said, like it was nothing. “I was off balance. I lowered my shoulder.”

You blinked again. “You gaslit me for five solid minutes and nearly took out your coach yelling.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I like the way you yell at me.”

You nearly swallowed your tongue.

She took a step closer — closer than allowed, closer than reasonable — and held up something small and folded.

“I don’t usually do this,” she said, “but… if you ever wanna grab a drink and yell at me off the clock—” she winked again, “—you’ve got my number.”

You took the paper. Stared at it.

Then stared at her.

“I thought refs weren’t supposed to fraternize with players,” you said, dry.

She smirked. “Good thing you’re off duty now.”

And with that, she turned and jogged off — high-fiving fans, teammates, sweaty and smug and absolutely unfair.

You looked down at the paper in your hand.

Her number. Her name.

And at the bottom, in handwriting just a little too cocky:

“Still watching?”

You laughed.

Yeah.

You definitely were.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers uconn #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x reader

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devildomditzy · 6 months ago

Text

“aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

The sound of a scream rarely can pull your attention away from your D.D.D. nowadays.

Oh no, you know far better by now.

The days where once you panicked with worry, quickly stumbling over yourself to find which one of the brothers was in danger were long over - now that you know the only real danger in this house hold is the fact that they are dangers to themselves.

You lay lazily on your bed, scrolling through your Devilgram feed on your phone when you hear it: a scream off in the distance, slowly getting louder.

Actually, not louder. Closer.

You can hear it through the thick, oak door that divides you from the rest of the house. There’s some extra noise there too. Perhaps, one or two pairs of footsteps quickly falling on the hardwood floor in succession out in the hallway.

The only action you bother to take is glancing up from your device just to make sure your door is shut, and locked.

You expect it, you could even count down the seconds till it happens. Like clockwork, ever so predictable. The footsteps only get louder until you hear the inevitable banging on the other side of the wood.

Knocking, vigorous knocking. A loud fist slamming against your door so hard and so frantically you thought it might break.

“MC! Are ya in there? Can ya open the door please? Preferably within the next ten seconds.”

You roll your eyes, not bothering to move. Nope, you don’t want any part in this. You can ignore it all you want though, you know how persistent he is. Mammon always gets what he wants.

“MC, please. Ya gotta open up. I’ll do anythin’ ya want for the whole day- no, week if ya let me in!”

Now, that was an interesting proposition. Having a demon butler doesn’t sound too shabby. But Mammon isn’t Barbatos. And the idiot forgets he’s already pact bound to you, forced to do whatever you command on a whim.

You roll your eyes, calling out to him from your bed. “Hmm. Tempting, but not good enough.”

“Not good enough?! Whaddya mean not good enough you lousy-“

He’s cut off by a monstrous roar, one you’d distinctly recognize anywhere. Oh good, Levi summoned Lotan.

Mammon’s knocking gets faster as he pulls on your door handle, practically shaking the frame.

“Please please please please please!”, he pleads with you, sounding increasingly more panicked.

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll take ya out to that nice restaurant you’ve been yappin’ about all week, that really fancy one!”

Now, you know Mammon good and well, so you know good and well to be suspicious of him and his motives. But, you trust him well enough to not flake out on a deal. He’s a business man and all that.

“Tonight?”, you question, trying to dull the hint of excitement in your tone.

“Yes! Tonight, fine whatever! Just open up already!”

You hear an angry shout of Mammon’s name that could only come from the third eldest getting louder, nearer into earshot.

“Fine.”

You open the door with no warning nor fanfare, causing Mammon, who had been practically leaning his whole body against it, to fall directly flat onto his face in front of you.

You hear a muffled “thanks” from the floor as you quickly shut and lock your door, effectively hiding the troublemaker from the sea monster (and his owner’s) eyesight.

“What’d you do this time?”, you question, arms crossed and peering at the man on your floor with feigned annoyance.

He slowly raises himself up, pushing off the floor and sitting up. He puts a hand to his head, rubbing at a tender area that must have hit the hardwood as you reach out a hand to help him up.

“Argh… What makes ya think I did somethin?”, he grumps. “Do ya really have that little faith in me?”

All it takes is an eyebrow raise from your unamused face before he growls at you- and spills his misdeeds.

“I thought maybe Levi wouldn’t notice if some of those little anime dolls of his went missin’”.

You sigh at him and shake your head in disappointment, multitasking as you take a look at the spot he was rubbing on his forehead, pushing his bangs out of the way to see if it bruised.

“How many did you take?”

“Only one!”, he says, almost as if he’s insulted that you’d insinuate that he took more- but then he falls apart under your gaze.

“Or three.”

“How about you give them back, huh?”, you muse, guiding him to sit down on your bed while you move about the room, walking over to a small antique looking ice chest you kept in the room as a mini fridge and opening the lid, peering inside before moving to your desk to grab something from the drawer.

“Cause I kinda loaned them out-“

You throw a dangerous look over your shoulder at him causing him to flinch and gulp.

“to a pawn shop.”

You make a few small ‘tsk’ sounds at him, reaching into the chest to pull out a handful of ice, wrapping them in the handkerchief you pulled from your desk drawer.

You walk over to him and place it over the red mark appearing on his forehead. Using your hand not holding the makeshift ice pack, you grab one of his, moving it up towards the bundle to replace your own with his, making him hold it instead.

“You know Lucifer’s gonna kill you AND Levi when he finds the hallways flooded with sea water for the second time in a month”, you say, taking his chin in your hand and carefully tilting his head side to side to look for any other cuts, scraps, or marks. You could pretend to be annoyed all you want. You both knew you didn’t mind playing nurse for him.

“Why do ya think I’m hidin’ from em ?”

You let out a small laugh, but shake your head at him all the same.

“Well, I’m looking forward to our impromptu date, but first we’re gonna head to that pawn shop to buy back his figurines, okay golden boy?”

He grunts at you before making eye contact and melting. He could never say no to you, not under that gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll even buy him another one to go with ‘em. He’s been talkin’ about some new magical girl or whatever, I’m sure I could find one of her.”

You smile at him, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“Perfect, sounds like a plan. Let’s get going”, you smile, moving in to lay a kiss on his cheek, only stopping when you both hear a trickling sound.

You look over at your door only to find water beginning to flow underneath and into your room.

Aaaannnddd, the hallways flooded.

“We are going to have to leave through the window though.”

#kit’s playhouse #obey me #om #omswd #obey me shall we date #mammon #obey me mammon #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #omnb #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #om drabble #Leviathan #Levi #om leviathan #om levi

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heavyhitterheaux · 6 months ago

Text

IDGAF (NSFW)

See Me Through You Series

I don't care right now (I don't give a fuck)

Pull your hair right now (come here)

Tryna beat it right now (she like)

But you know I got a man

Synopsis: Joe has no more fucks to give and is tired of him not having the title of being your boyfriend

Warnings: mentions of dv

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After Joe had told you that he knew that you loved him instead of Trevor, you stood there speechless.

One thing you weren't about to do was tell him that he was wrong.

His eyes never left yours as he waited for you to say something. When you didn't, he knew that it had to be up to him to at least try to pull a response out of you.

“Look, Y/N, if you go back to him, fine. I can't stop you, but I do need to tell you one thing.” He told you as he grabbed your left hand to hold it while the other one was holding onto the bouquet of flowers that he had gifted you.

“What's that?” You asked him not knowing that you had absentmindedly squeezed his hand tighter.

“You’re making a mistake and hopefully you realize that before you get hurt again because I know that at this point, it's bound to happen.” Joe said as he was not holding back how he felt about the entire situation.

Now the question was why did Trevor have such a strong hold on you?

“Joey, I promise that you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine.” You said while trying to reassure him, but knew for a fact that more than likely it was not working in your favor.

“And who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? Do you also not realize how much your brother worries about you too? From what I've seen and heard about him, he is not a good person. Especially not to you. Did you forget him leaving actual marks on your wrist while we were at that party and you were trying to get away from him? What do you think would have happened if I wasn’t there to get you away from him?”

“I wish that people would just stop acting like they know what's best for me.” You breathed out, frustrated about being hit from all different angles.

Joe, Ja'Marr, Erin, and Alisha.

Even your parents thought that you had broken up with him a while ago because that's what Ja'Marr told them when he knew that Joe had eyes for you.

“Bam Bam! Why did dad just say he was relieved that I finally broke up with Trevor!? And that you had told them?! Didn’t realize my life was a soap opera to you!”

“I just uh predicted the future. Now you're not going to make me look like a liar to mom and dad, right?”

“I should beat your ass right now.”

“I mean…. You have someone who likes you that I know will treat you right. He's literally just waiting for Trevor to get out of his rightful spot.”

“JA'MARR! Who are you talking about!?”

“Pebbles, don't be dumb. I'm talking about Joe, obviously. I see the type of person he is and that's someone I want for my sister.”

The relief that was evident on their faces let you know that he was not ever going to have approval from anyone that was a part of your life.

As soon as those words left your mouth, Joe wasted no time responding to you.

“Oh so you think this is what a healthy relationship between two people looks like? And someone obviously needs to because you definitely can't do it yourself.”

“Just like you said before, if I go back to him, it really isn't any of your business or anyone else's for that matter. Let's keep it that way because I am done with this conversation.”

“If that's what you want then okay. I won't say anything else about it. And to add to that I'll keep my distance because you're right. You shouldn't be spending more time with another man that isn't your boyfriend and I guess he probably feels like I stepped on his toes enough. But he won't have to worry about that anymore.” He told you as he sighed and held up his hands in defense, losing the warmth that he had been getting from holding your hand.

“Wait…” You started to say, but Joe shook his head at you.

“No, this is what you wanted so this is how it's going to be from now on.”

“Joey, I didn't mean…”

“Didn't mean what? You love me but your ass is crawling back to him as he begs for forgiveness as usual after doing the bare minimum? Actually, he doesn't even do that. I'm not about to compete with anyone who I feel isn't even on my level to compete with me in the first place. I'll see you at the game if you're coming later. Probably not the best idea to wear my jersey since we can't have Trevor seeing it.”

Now it was apparent that Joe was more than pissed off with you.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I need to head back to my apartment to start to get ready anyway. But for the record….” He trailed off and you tried to grab his hand, but he immediately moved away.

“For the record what?”

“I love you too. So do what you will with that information.”

That's the last thing Joe told you before he turned away from you before he walked back to meet up with Justin and Ja'Marr.

Later that day in the afternoon, you were sitting next to Alisha and Erin in the student section of the stadium waiting for the game to start. After the conversation between the two of you earlier in the day, you honestly didn’t feel like going, but decided to anyway.

Even though Joe was mad at you, you had already promised him last week that you would wear his jersey to the game and didn't care who saw it at this point.

You were going to support your friend.

Your friend that you were in love with and he was in love with you however that was a whole nother discussion.

“You look good in your future husband's jersey.” Erin teased while Alisha laughed before taking a bite of her hot dog.

“He’s a little mad at me right now so hopefully seeing me in it will make it a little bit better.” You said as you turned to look at her.

“Well he can't be but so mad at you since he is literally making his way over here.” Alisha told you as you turned around to see that she was indeed correct.

The three of you were on the first row in the middle so that you would have the best view. In order to get these seats, all three of you made sure to get to the stadium early. When Joe finally reached you, he had an expression on his face that you couldn't quite read and you were the first one to speak.

“Surprised to see me?” You asked and he nodded.

“A little bit, but I know you. A promise is a promise and you said that you would be here. You aren't one to back out of something so easily.”

“Hmm, true. Are you still mad at me?” You quietly asked and Joe simply shrugged.

“Seeing you in my jersey is making me less mad if that helps. If you were my girlfriend, after tonight when I won I would be able to take it off of you. But I know my opportunity is coming.”

“I…” You started to say as you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Oh, that’s right. We established boundaries today and I promised that I would back off. It's kind of hard, but I just have to deal with it.”

“Joey….”

“Bold move though wearing it considering anybody could see it, including him. We both know that he already doesn’t like me. Think he'd be mad if I kissed you right now? In front of all these people? Letting the entire world know that you belong to me and only me even if you aren't ready to admit it yet.” Joe whispered as he leaned closer to you. Joe had spotted Trevor in the stands a few rows up and sent a small smile his way which led to Trevor glaring at him. You still had yet to notice that he was there which Joe was going to take advantage of.

When you were quiet, Joe laughed as he broke the silence.

“Let’s find out.”

He lightly grabbed your face and moved you closer to him so he could place a kiss on your cheek that was dangerously close to your mouth.

If you would have moved less than one centimeter, he would have planted that kiss on your lips.

“We'll talk later.” He told you while pinching your cheek and you simply nodded. This was the second time today that he had left you speechless.

“Have a good game, Joey.”

“It already is a good game, because you're here.” He replied as he winked at you.

He made his way back over to the sideline while Erin and Alisha were grinning from ear to ear as you turned around to look at both of them.

“I seriously wish yall would just fuck already. It would literally solve so many problems. He would take you on the fifty yard line if he could.”

“ERIN!”

“I’m just saying. I am literally waiting for the wedding invite. I wonder if you two will get married here or have a destination wedding? I can start looking up places.”

“What am I going to do with you?” You asked her, but also couldn’t help but to laugh at the same time.

What you didn't see was Trevor fuming behind you. He had seen the entire interaction and planned to confront you about it later. He knew that you and Joe were obviously close and were friends, but that interaction that he just saw was too intimate for his liking.

He hadn't cared for Joe ever since the party where he had stepped in between the both of you. In the back of his mind, he knew Joe liked you, it was obvious. But one thing that he had to do was set him straight and let him know that you were his and planned on reminding you about it later.

Little did he know, it was too little too late.

You were too far gone at this point, and the only person that held your attention was Joseph Lee Burrow.

Later on that night after he had gotten back to his apartment from LSU winning their game, Joe had grabbed food and was sitting down eating it while his phone vibrated on the table in front of him indicating that it was his mom and he quickly answered.

He simply wanted to be by himself and didn't bother celebrating with any of his teammates because once again, his mind was on you.

It was a continuous cycle, you, football, and focusing on his classes.

It took everything in him not to text you to tell you to come over at this very moment. He was supposed to be mad at you, but being around you was something that kept him grounded. Seeing you wear his jersey tonight made it hard for him to continue to be mad at you.

“Hello?”

“I watched the game and you played amazing as usual. I'm sorry that I couldn't make it to this one, but I will definitely be there next week.”

“It's fine, don't even worry about it and thank you.” He quietly said and she knew for a fact that something was wrong.

“What's going on? You sound upset.” Robin asked him and he sighed before he answered her.

“I like this girl…”

“Oh Y/N? Yes I know. Pretty obvious. You literally talk about her non-stop every week that me and your dad call you. Can't wait to meet her, but go on.”

“Well she knows that I like her, well I actually told her that I loved her earlier today and also told her that I knew she loved me. We've gotten really close ever since I came down here and met her. If I'm not playing football or in class, I am literally spending all of my time with her.”

“Well, what's the problem?”

“She has a boyfriend and I might just have to settle for being her friend because instead of breaking up with him and being with me, she told me that she is giving him another chance even after he's hurt her multiple times.”

“I know that can be hard to watch, but as bad as it sounds, you need to let her make her own mistakes. If that's her decision, you need to respect it.”

“And that's what I told her and also said from now on I’ll be keeping my distance from her.”

“If you feel that's your best option, then stand by your decision.”

“I just…. All I've seen is her getting hurt by him and she steadily defends him each time.”

“I… if you are her friend and you are as close as you claim you two are, just be there for her and help her get through whatever may happen. If the two of you are meant to be together, you'll be together.”

It was 2 in the morning when Joe heard someone knocking on his apartment door and was instantly confused. Hopping up from the couch that he had fallen asleep on with open books scattered around him, he opened the door to see you staring at him in a frantic state.

“Y/N, is everything okay? What's wrong?” He asked as he stepped to the side to be able to let you in and led you to sit down on the couch.

“My brother isn't here, is he?” You asked not bothering to answer his question and looking around since sometimes Ja'Marr would crash at Joe's place if he was too tired to go back to his own.

“No, but do I need to call him?” He asked and you immediately shook your head no.

“No! Please don't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, just don’t tell him.” You didn't mean to raise your voice and it came out harsher than you intended.

“Then are you going to tell me what happened? Wait, why is there a cut near your eye? And it's bleeding.” He asked and got up to wet a washcloth and dabbed at your face with it.

It was at that moment that you had looked down and started playing with your matching bracelet that you and Ja'Marr had gotten each other on your eighteenth birthdays and under no circumstances would you make eye contact with him.

That's when the thought hit Joe like a ton of bricks.

“Did that asshole put his hands on you?”

“No.”

“Y/N, if you lie to me I'm calling Ja'Marr.”

“Okay, okay. He tried to. We were arguing and he threw a vase at me that shattered against the wall and some glass from it must have cut me. And then he pushed me into a corner and acted as if he was going to punch me, but punched a hole in the wall instead. Right next to my head. He apologized, but I waited until he fell asleep and then I came here. I was so scared.” You quietly said as tears were starting to run down your cheeks and Joe quickly wiped them away.

It happened again, just like he said it would.

And this time, it ended up being a lot worse.

Joe was sitting there with his jaw clenched and once you looked up at him, you knew that you had to stop him before he did something stupid.

He abruptly got up and was looking for his keys when you instantly ran to stand in front of the door to block him.

“Move, Y/N.”

“Joey, no. You are not going anywhere. Let it go.”

“He fucking hurt you. I should go over there and kick his ass myself.”

“I cannot risk you getting in trouble and therefore getting kicked off the team, he isn't worth it. I'll be fine. Do not mess up your future over me.” You told him as you took his hands in yours.

“But YOU are worth it. Who the fuck in their right mind would do something like that to you? I knew I didn't like him when I met him and your brother was right about him.”

“Joey, promise me. Please don't. I'll deal with it in my own way.”

“There is no way in hell you are going near him ever again. Ja'Marr would be mad as hell at me if he knew that I knew that he hurt you and didn't do anything about it.”

“And that's why you aren't going to tell him.”

“Wait, what? Y/N… you cannot be serious.”

“I… it's the same thing with him too. You can both get arrested for assault and it'll lead to so much more, just please.”

Joe let out a deep sigh before nodding, letting you know that he would honor your wishes.

The two of you were still standing in front of the door and the two of you hadn't taken your eyes off one another when you suddenly reached up and kissed him, catching him off guard, but he immediately kissed you back.

When the two of you broke apart, the reality of what you had just done hit you like a ton of bricks.

You had just cheated on your boyfriend with Joe.

And you didn’t have an ounce of regret in your body.

“I'm sorry, I…” You started to say as you stepped away from him and Joe cut you off as he lightly brought you back towards him.

“I'm not. Break up with him and be with me instead. So I can show you how you're supposed to be treated. I promise you that you won't regret it.”

You didn't respond, but Joe immediately brought your face to his and kissed you once more. Both of your hands were exploring each other's bodies but as soon as you tried to lift Joe's shirt, he abruptly stopped and he kissed the side of your mouth like he had done earlier at the game before saying anything.

“Not yet. You've been through a lot tonight and the last thing I want is for you to feel like I'm taking advantage of you in a vulnerable state and you regret it tomorrow.”

“But I'm…”

“I just want you to rest for the rest of the night. We have plenty of time for that. I'll grab you some clothes to sleep in.”

Nodding your head he kissed you again before taking your hand in his and led you towards his bedroom that you had grown familiar with all throughout the semester. Any time you came over, it would lead to you stealing one of his shirts or one of his hoodies. He was convinced when the semester was over that all he was going to have left at this rate were his boxers. Once there, he let go of your hand and went into his dresser to pull out one of his old Ohio State shirts and handed it to you.

“It'll probably be huge on you, but you'll be comfortable.”

You smiled at him before heading to the bathroom to change out of your clothes. Once you closed the door behind you, you glanced in the mirror and didn't recognize the girl staring back at you.

You promised yourself that if it happened again, you would leave him, but here you were. You had someone right in front of you that wanted to give you the world so what were you so scared of?

You were tired of running around in circles and tired of making excuses.

First thing you were doing later on that day was breaking up with Trevor.

Once you had gotten changed, you walked back out into Joe's bedroom to see he was now in just a pair of sweatpants and looked like he was headed towards the door, but was quickly stopped in his tracks as he heard your soft voice behind him making him turn around.

“Where are you going?” You quietly asked since you were confused.

“To sleep on the couch while you sleep in my bed. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay first.”

“Joey, no. I'm not kicking you out of your bed and besides, I don’t want to be by myself right now.” You confessed as you grabbed his hand.

He nodded as the two of you both got settled, Joe was closest to the door while you were closest to the window. After making sure you were comfortable, he reached over to turn off the lamp that was on the bedside table. That was when he heard your voice once more.

“Joey?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for always being there for me. Even when I might not deserve it.”

At this point in time, you were honestly surprised that he even answered the door and let you in, but knowing the type of person he is, he wouldn’t have reacted any differently.

“I'll be here as long as you want me to be and you deserve the world. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

—

You didn’t know how long you were laying there, but sleep was the last thing taking over your body. Noticing that Joe's breathing also hadn't slowed, you turned around to face him and at the same time you heard his voice.

“Princess? You still awake? You need to go to sleep.”

“I can't sleep. I'm still so scared, I know he's going to look for me sooner or later.”

“You’re safe here and no one is going to touch a hair on your head. I can promise you that.” He told you as he stroked your face and placed a light kiss on your forehead as he was able to make out your features in the dark by the moonlight peeking in through the curtains.

“Come here.”

Joe then wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him as he then leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips which you quickly returned.

All of this led up to a heated make out session with Joe now hovering over top of you as his hands reached underneath his shirt that you were wearing. His fingers lightly grazed your nipples and he then began to roll them between his fingers as he noticed that your bra that you had been wearing had been long forgotten which he was thankful for.

Before he lifted his shirt over your head, he asked for permission to make sure you were absolutely sure about wanting to do this. Joe had wanted you from day one, but if you weren’t ready to do this he was willing to wait until you were.

“Are you…?”

“Yes. I was sure earlier tonight and I'm sure now. I know the last thing I'm ever going to regret is being with you.”

Once he peeled the shirt away from your body, he now had full access to you. The plan was to take his time so he could give you the undivided attention that you deserved since he knew for a fact that Trevor wasn't giving it to you without even having to ask you about it.

His mouth found its way to one of your nipples and he began to lightly suck on it while continuing to roll the other one in between his fingers before switching making a moan escape your mouth.

“Mmm, fuck.”

“I'm going to make you feel so good, princess.” He whispered against your lips before kissing them.

The increase in wetness between your thighs was evident as you Iet out soft quiet moans from the sensation of having him explore your body with his mouth.

As he moved further south, Joe's fingers ran along your folds as he saw how wet you actually were.

“This all for me? I've barely even done anything and your body is responding like this?” He asked you as he placed one kiss on each inner thigh.

As you nodded, he inserted one finger and soon worked himself up to two before settling in between your thighs and beginning to pleasure you with his tongue.

After a few minutes, he noticed you starting to squirm and firmly wrapped his arms around your legs in the hopes of limiting your movement.

“Stay still for me princess.” Was all you heard as your hands found a way to his hair and was softly tugging on it, hoping to bring him in closer.

With the use of his tongue along with his fingers, a new sensation unknown to you was building in the lower half of your body and at the same time, Joe began to suck on your clit.

“Oh, shit….”

Joe felt your hands trying to push him away from you, but all he did was tighten his hold on your legs making sure you had no way to get away from him.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You won't be able to if you keep moving away from me.” Joe asked you as he had come up for air, but immediately went back down.

“Yes.” Was all you said as he began to suck harder.

It took no time at all for you to feel like you were seeing stars as Joe continued to pleasure you.

It was official.

Joe had given you your first orgasm.

He gave you a few minutes to recover as he was placing kisses up and down your thighs before sliding off his sweatpants along with his boxers as he opened the bedside table to pull out a condom. It was still obviously dark in the room, but you could literally see because of the light coming through the windows past the curtains, how big he was and you suddenly became nervous.

You thought to yourself that there was no way in hell that he was about to fit.

Joe could sense this as he was putting the condom on and quickly tried to reassure you.

“No reason to be nervous, baby. It's going to fit. Most important thing is that you have to relax for me.” He told you while leaning down to lightly stroke your face.

“Okay.” You quietly said in response, but you still weren’t convinced. But at the same time, you knew that Joe had no reason to lie to you.

Once he positioned himself in front of you, he reached down to kiss you and once he pulled away from you is when you heard his voice once more.

“You ready, princess?”

You nodded, but that obviously wasn’t enough for him.

“I need words, you need to say it. I’m not doing anything unless you do.”

“I’m ready.”

Once he finally heard it, you felt Joe slowly entering you and you tightly closed your eyes. As you did this, Joe immediately felt your body tense up.

It would have probably been a good idea to tell him that you had never had sex before before all of this began happening, but knew that he would be as gentle as possible with you regardless.

That's just the type of person he was when it came to you.

“Princess, you have to relax. It's me and the last thing that I am ever going to do is hurt you. When I told you that I loved you, I meant it. Every word.” He quietly said as he leaned down to kiss you.

You nodded and several more kisses were placed on your lips when you felt him easing the rest of the way into you at the same time making you gasp as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You're okay, I got you baby.” Joe told you as he gave you time to adjust to his size before he made any sudden movement.

Kisses were planted along your neck and shoulder as you were adjusting to a new feeling that you had never experienced before. It wasn’t quite to the point of pleasure, however you weren’t necessarily in pain either.

It felt weird.

About a minute or so had passed when you slowly felt him begin to move and you wrapped your arms around him tighter.

Now all you felt was pleasure as moans escaped from your mouth when Joe began to increase his pace.

In order to go deeper and at a better angle, Joe held onto your hips before deciding to wrap your left leg around his waist.

“If you want this as bad as you say you do, keep those legs spread. Fuck you feel so good around me, just like I knew you would.”

Since your arms were already tightly wrapped around him, his face was in the crook of your neck as he had now leaned forward.

Making that sudden change in position, he was now hitting the same spot over and over again and you just knew that it was about to send you over the edge sooner or later.

You were thinking that it would probably be sooner.

“Fuck, Joey stay right there.” You breathed out as he lifted his head to steal a quick kiss from you.

Doing what you had asked him to, his movements increased in pace while also becoming sloppy at the same time making you think that he was just as close as you were.

“Joey, I…” You trailed off as a weird sensation was building in your stomach once more and you knew it was happening again.

The second orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks and you felt like you had gotten the wind knocked out of you.

As Joe heard your soft whimpers, he placed kisses all along your shoulder blade as you rode out your high.

He placed another kiss on your forehead before he slowly slipped out of you making you wince and went to throw away the condom.

Once he had come back, he had a washcloth with warm water in his right hand as he started to gently glide it onto your body in order to wipe you off.

When he was finished, he threw it into the hamper and laid back down beside you, ultimately pulling you on top of him. Your eyes began to become heavy between Joe rubbing small circles along your back and listening to Joe's heartbeat.

Your eyes fluttered open from hearing the television on a low volume and you could only assume that Joe was already awake. Once he noticed that you began to stir, he peeked down at you seeing as you were still laying on his chest.

“Good morning, princess.” He softly said before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning. What time is it?”

“It’s almost nine and I was about to wake you up since I know that you have class at ten and it takes you five to seven business days to get ready.”

“Really, Joey?” You replied as you rolled your eyes.

“I call it like I see it. I always tell you what time I’m going to come and get you, however, I’ll be downstairs waiting in the car while you only still have one of your lashes on.”

“You get on my last nerve.”

“But did I lie?”

When Joe was met with silence and another eye roll from you, all he did was laugh.

“I guess I have to go and get ready then.” You told him as you sighed, not wanting to leave his embrace.

“We can do dinner later and have a study date…. With or without clothes.”

“JOSEPH!”

“What? What’d I say that was wrong? I was just giving you options!” He exclaimed as he then held up his hands in defense.

“I’m ignoring you. What time are we doing our dinner and study date?”

“As soon as you get out of class, just come back here.”

“I’m honestly a little nervous to go back to my apartment.” You said being completely honest.

“Just get some of your things and you can stay with me, you know that I don’t care and the most important thing is that you’re safe. I have to go to class too, but I can call Ja’Marr…”

“NO! Baby brother asks too many questions. I’ll be fine. The security guy who works there is super nice and I know if I tell him I don’t feel all that safe he’ll walk me to my apartment door.”

“As long as you’re sure. But call me if there’s a problem, understand?”

“Understood, Mr. Burrow.”

—-

Joe was still running off of the high from this morning as he had woken up to the sight of you beside him. He was walking to his last class of the day on campus when he did a double take as he spotted you in front of one of the many libraries that he knew was near a few of your classes. But who he saw you with was why he instantly became upset.

You were talking to Trevor, who of course he despised and for good reason.

He couldn't tell what the nature of the conversation was by your body language and it almost looked as if Trevor was barely paying any attention to what you were saying which wasn’t unusual.

So, did last night mean nothing to you?

Joe was watching you for a few more minutes until he looked down at his watch and noticed that if he didn't leave now that he would end up being late to class.

At this point, he was done trying.

If that's who you wanted, then fine.

And he made it up in his mind that he was done.

Completely.

Throughout the day, you were calling him and sending him text messages, that ultimately went unanswered making you nervous.

You deserved to get an explanation on why he was suddenly acting this way towards you and immediately hopped into your car after packing your bags that you were going to take in order to stay with him and quickly drove to his apartment.

The banging on Joe's door instantly annoyed him seeing as he just sat down to watch one of the many NBA games that we’re coming on that night. He glanced at the clock to see that it was barely 6 pm and had a feeling that it was you.

A deep sigh escaped his mouth before he got up to answer it. Once he did, he was met with you just as he suspected and you had a pissed off look on your face and Joe raised his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Yes? Did you need something?”

“So, you can have sex with me, but then suddenly ignore me? I may be little, but I will kick your 6’4 ass and throw a dumbbell at your head.” You asked him and pushed your way past him into the apartment.

“It's not even like that so stop jumping to conclusions.” Joe replied as he closed the door behind you.

“Then tell me so I can understand, Joey! Because you have me confused. You claim to want me so bad and then end up ignoring me all day!? When I called you multiple times? Who does that?”

“Because I saw you with him! Why the fuck are you even talking to him? Hasn’t he hurt you enough?”

“Now look who's jumping to conclusions.” You said as you crossed your arms.

“Then why else would you be with him? You did tell me recently that you were going to give him another chance. Recently as in yesterday before we had sex so I simply thought she claims she loves me, yet she's still going back to him.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose before you said anything else to him.

“You are literally so annoying. I went to talk to him to break up with him! Last time I checked you did confess that you loved me or did I not get that right?”

“Oh.” Joe quietly said and you couldn't help but to roll your eyes.

You started to make your way back towards the door in order to leave when you felt Joe suddenly pull you back as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Let me go. I'm mad at you.” You said as you were trying to wiggle out of his grip.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything.” He replied as he turned you around to face him and leaned down to kiss you.

“No, don't kiss me. Turn me loose. Leave me alone. All you literally had to do was just ask me.”

“I know, but seeing you with him just pissed me off and so I walked away. I promise it won’t happen again. You forgive me? I’m not letting you go until you say you do.” Joe asked you as he squeezed you tighter and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“I guess.” You muttered as he led the both of you over to the couch as Joe sat down first and then pulled you onto his lap.

“So, is it official now?” You asked him as he had been focused on the game that was playing on the television.

“Is what official?”

“Me being LSU's star quarterback Joe Burrow's girlfriend.” You teased as you kissed the tip of his nose.

“You've been mine for a while. That ex-boyfriend of yours was just keeping my spot warm. I bet he never made you feel as good as I did last night.” Joe told you as he was wiggling his eyebrows as you both then let out a laugh.

“No, because I never had sex with Trevor.”

Joe immediately stopped laughing and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Wait, huh?”

“I never did because I told him that I wanted to wait. That was one of the only things he actually did respect, but I know for a fact that he's probably cheated on me multiple times because of it, but I just ignored it.” You replied while being completely honest.

“Uh, princess? Don't you think you should have told me that? Fuck did I…? Shit. I would have made it a lot more special if I would have known. I would have had candles and…”

“Stop it. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.” You cut him off as you kissed him and tried to reassure him.

“I waited for the right person who I knew for a fact was going to treat me right.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow smut #joe burrow lsu #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fanfic #joey b #joey burrow #joe shiesty #nfl imagine #joe burrow fluff #Spotify

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kimberly-spirits13 · 8 months ago

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Back From Hell

Pairing: Dean Winchester x witch!reader

Warnings: Details of hell, the silver knife test, shower together but nothing NSFW, angst, fluff with hint of angst at the end

Summary: After you sacrafice yourself to save humanity from demons trying to harness your powers, you die and go to hell, only to be ressurected. In the aftermath, the first thing you do is find Dean.

Word Count: 3156

Heat, blistering heat hit your face and suffocated your lungs. The hair on your face singed off and you felt your skin peel in flakes off your body and the sounds of screams deafen your ears. Something pierced your body, feeling like thousands of needles scratching blood from your flesh the moment it returned, and the singeing of your body started over once more. The squeal of a heavy iron door shrieked through wherever you were, and a tall, dark figure entered.

In a low guttural tone it spoke, “Had enough yet, witch?”

You didn’t answer, closing your eyes and ignoring the figure.

“Speak!” He raised his hand and a large blade thrust through your stomach and back out again.

You screamed in agony, spitting blood onto what seemed to be the floor, “I thought” you gasped for air, “I thought you hadn’t even started with me yet.”

The creature smiled and pulled out a large iron, lit flaming orange from heat. With slow, long strides, it approached you, running a long-clawed finger over the heated metal.

“Well, in that case, I’d like to see how you feel about your spells now, witch.”

In a swift movement, he pressed the burning iron into your skin and began writing in ancient script. You wailed curses in pain as the scorching end of the metal carved into you.

In a matter-of-fact tone, you heard his voice start again and the singe of the metal into your skin pause, “You could join us and make all this stop. Indeed, your magic would be of great value to us.” “Think about it, witch. You’d never endure this again. All for a simple commitment.”

“Fuck you.” You spat blood at the form.

A low chuckle emitted from the being, “It’s a shame really.”

He pierced your side again, “You’d do so well.”

The torture continued for what could have been hours, days, or weeks longer before you were left alone once again to suffer the same eternal cycle of struggle. You knew time was passing because the routine would stop and start over. It played on and on in the same loop as a broken record, bound to never be shut off. After every 1000 cycles of time, the figure would come in again, usually with a different introduction, but always with the same request. You had died sacrificing yourself to kill a line of demons rampaging through the human world. Using the last of your strength and the legendary magic you possessed, you died after destroying them. Now you were stuck here, in an endless loop of dread.

The day you got out was no different. You awoke with the same terror drowning your senses and making breathing almost impossible. Volcanic heat violently erupted against your skin and began to suffocate you again. The heat was unbearable and boiling tears swept down your face and into your ears. You cried and screamed against the pain and began counting down the cycle repeats until you endured whatever form of torture hell created today. Around the 200th sequence you started hearing unfamiliar noises in the distance. Your stomach churned thinking it was some new creative device to instill pain on a new level. The shrill scream of the metal chamber door opening came early this time and you looked up to see what it was. A tall bright figure stood at the doorway and confidently walked towards you. In the flash of an eye, you felt yourself being picked up and carried away.

“Whatever this is,” you mumbled, “I won’t join you.”

A strong, calm voice answered you, “Be calm, this is your deliverance.”

“What are you on about?” You looked towards what you thought would be the face, dazed and confused. The landscape around you seemed hazy and you didn’t understand what was going on.

“You maintained proper loyalties. This is your reward.” The voice came again, “Now sleep.”

When you awoke again, you awoke in a dark airtight room. You gasped for air but found little. Feeling around, your finger was pricked by the splinter of wood, and you began to understand where you were.

“That’s right.” You thought, “I died. Am I alive? How do I get out?”

With little air left to breathe, you muttered your spell in Latin, “let me out”

Violently, with sudden force, the ground around you began to shake and become disrupted. All around you, the wood disintegrated into ash and the ground piled into heaps around the grave. A gust of spinning wind lifted you and released you with a thud onto the grass next to your burial site. You gasped for air, clawing at the ground and squinting to see from the sudden change in light. Your head pounded as you laid there reeling from what had just occurred.

When some of your strength had returned, you sat up and looked around. There was a headstone with your name carved roughly into the stone and the remains of old flower stems strewn about. You wanted to scream for someone, but you knew no one would answer. You wanted Dean, but you knew he wasn’t here. There was no telling how much time had passed since you died and now, but you knew you had to get to civilization. Out in the distance, you heard cattle and followed the sound. Your legs were shaky and uneasy on the ground for the first time since who knows when. Feeling came back to your feet, and you started towards what you thought was life.

After some time, walking through thick woods, you came out into a clearing with a gravel road running around the edge of the tree line. You walked down the road and past the cattle, listening for any sort of engine or signs of humanity. Once you had walked about twenty minutes or so, you came upon a small gas station on the outskirts of a little town, complete with a few run-down cars in the front lawn piled together as some sort of decoration.

A bell dinged when you opened the door and a kind looking man looked up from his newspaper at the counter. You looked at the date and nearly doubled over. It had been exactly a year since you died. For a year, you had been enduring the torture of hell. There was no telling where Sam and Dean were at this point.

“Everything alright dear?” He asked, a concerned look glazing over his face.

“Oh, I’m alright.” You answered with a small smile, “Where are we? My car was stolen from me while I was camping.”

The man gave you your location as some small town in South Dakota that you didn’t really catch and then started asking questions about the assailment and if you needed medical attention or the police.

“I’m fine, thank you. It was a beat-up thing, nothing special. How far are we from Sioux Falls?”

“I’d say we’re about an hour’s drive. A bus comes through here heading towards there in about fifteen minutes if you want to catch it. The next one comes in the morning.”

“That’s great. Thank you.” “Do you have a bathroom?”

The man happily pointed towards it, “Of course. Down that little hall and to the left.”

Once you were in the bathroom you locked the door and threw up. There was nothing being spit out but for the feeling of adrenaline you had knowing how long it’s been and not knowing where anyone was. A few moments passed and you pulled yourself together and collected your thoughts.

You scoffed at yourself silently, “I don’t need a bus to take me to Dean. I just need a simple spell.”

With the same confidence you held so many times before, you recited your incantation and watched on as you were pinpointed to his direct location. The small bathroom you were in became Bobby’s study room. Sitting at the wooden table, you saw Dean hunched over an old leather-bound book with stacks of others piled high around him. Heavy purple bags hung under his eyes as he read. You couldn’t tell what he was reading about, but you had your guesses. Suddenly, Dean looked up, and turned to face your general direction. He huffed and returned to his book. This hadn’t happened before.

You heard him mumble, “Nothing’s watching you stupid, you’re just tired.”

Silently, you headed outside of the bathroom and began for the door.

“I’ll just wait outside for the bus, thank you!” You waved.

“That’s alright. Have a good one.”

Bus or no bus, you weren’t waiting. You ran behind the building where you were sure no one could see you and began another spell, this one to take you to Bobby’s house. A strong gust of wind blew around you and dust kicked up causing you to close your eyes. Your feet lifted off the ground and the next thing you knew, you were being knocked back onto the ground with force. You groaned, rolling over on the ground and slowly picked yourself back up. You hadn’t been this tired in a long time and you didn’t think the sudden use of so much magic was helping either.

Wordlessly, you walked towards the front door. No one would believe that it was you, especially not Bobby. On the porch you questioned how you’d enter. “Surprise, I’m alive” didn’t seem like the best option, but there didn’t seem to be a better route. You put your hand on the knob of the door and beckoned it to unlock. The click under your fingers signified the effectiveness of your deed and you silently walked inside. Closing the door behind you, you listened for noise. You heard the familiar creaking of the kitchen floor and silently crept through.

You peered into the room, not seeing anyone, but sensing that someone must be there.

Almost whispering, you said aloud, “Dean?” “Bobby?” “Sammy?”

The moment you stepped inside, a strong arm wrapped around your body and the cool touch of a blade’s edge rested on your neck.

Dean’s voice, laced with fury and hate filled the room, “What the fuck are you?”

“Dean it’s me. It’s me! I don’t know why, but it’s me!” Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to get him off you.

“I don’t believe you.” “It was you watching earlier, wasn’t it?”

Before you could answer, you heard running coming from some other part of the house, into the kitchen where you were, “Dean what’s wrong?”

Bobby came in wielding his gun and aimed it at you, “Who the hell are you?” He roared.

“Don’t shoot!” You yelled, “I’m Y/N, I’m telling you! Do the tests! Do it!”

Dean’s grip loosened just enough at the offer so that you could disarm and throw him over you. You knew Bobby was trained on you now and you had to be quick. From in front of you, Dean came swinging with the knife he had just picked up, making you duck and jump out of the way.

“I’m telling you the truth!” You swore loudly, “I’m not some demon, Dean.” “Bobby, put that down!”

“Like hell you are.” Bobby spat at you.

From where he was, Bobby threw a pitcher of holy water at you, waiting for you to ignite somehow.

You spat the water out of your mouth and blinked hard, moving from Dean’s aim as you did. With a shriek, you slipped across the wet floor and into the counter with a thud. Your hip would be bruised after that.

“Dean, hold the fort, I’m getting the flames!” Bobby ran out of the room and left you and Dean alone.

Seeing you vulnerable, Dean jumped onto you, trying to slash at whatever he could before you threw him off you again, cringing a bit when he hit the ground and got right back up to swing once more.

“Dean-” You were exasperated, “That’s enough!”

You threw your arms out and light pulsated from your fingertips. Everything froze in the room where it was, unable to move. Bobby came running back in and before he could make it inside, you sealed off the entrances to the kitchen with a clear wall. His screams for Dean could be heard from the barrier you made. He could see everything happening but couldn’t do anything.

“Give me this!” You took the silver knife from Dean’s hand and stood in front of him, your eyes welling up after getting your first good look at him in months.

He looked worse in person. His eyes were red and heavy bags sagged his skin. His undereye was stained purple and a small stubble had grown out. It looked like he’d been wearing the same clothes for more than a day now, and sleep was nowhere to be seen from him.

You sighed and dragged the knife across your forearm, “If I were some monster, I couldn’t do this.”

Blood spilled from the spot you dragged the blade over and you softly gasped in pain, squeezing the area once you knew Dean had seen it.

With desperation, you looked at Dean, “Good enough?”

While he was still frozen in place, tears streamed down his cheeks and you released him from the hold, still maintaining the walls to keep Bobby out. You wanted to see him, but you needed Dean first.

Dean released from his frozen state, throwing himself forward at you and pulling you to your knees. He wept as his body shook, arms wrapping in a death grip around you. You cried too, not minding the blood that was now dripping onto the floor. Dean pulled back after a few moments and looked you over. His hands went from being tangled in your hair to wiping the tears off your face and dragging his fingers along your jawline.

“It’s really me Dean.” You cried, “I told you I’d always come back to you.”

“I tried to find you.” He sobbed, “I promise, I tried to find you.”

You raked your fingers through his hair, “You’re okay Dean. You did a good job.”

“Sammy. He left a little while ago to get food.” Dean started rattling things off out of pure shock, telling you about things you hadn’t asked him for, gauging your every reaction to see if you were real.

“Y/N!” You heard Bobby call from the other room, “Let me in damn it!”

The boarder dropped between the kitchen and hall, and he came barreling in, scooping you up into a bear hug and wiping away his tears.

“We haven’t stopped looking for a way to get you back since you died.” He said, “It’s not been the same.”

You talked for a second before turning back to Dean who grabbed you once again, not letting you go this time. The two of you stood there forever, basking in each other’s presence. There was little to say but for the occasional “I love you” and “I missed you”. Sam had come back and fondly dropped all the dinner he had just picked up in shock.

Hours came and passed, and the day turned into night. You were disgusting from being in a casket from a year and smelled like dirt and grime. Dean hadn’t left your side all day and wasn’t planning on it anytime soon.

You mumbled against his chest “I need a shower.” The two of you were laying on the sofa in silence.

Dean sighed and pulled the two of you off the couch, wordlessly walking you upstairs into the room he was staying in and shutting the door behind him. He kept constant watch over you to make sure you were still there. No matter what you were doing, he was there. It was impossible to do anything alone, even use the bathroom. Dean was convinced you’d slip away, and he’d never see you again. The sound of the shower’s running water pulled you out of your thoughts. Sincere green eyes looked in yours as he hooked his fingers around the hem of your shirt.

“You’re fine.” You said softly.

With permission to proceed, Dean pulled your remaining clothes off and did the same for himself, guiding the two of you under the hot stream of water. You flinched feeling the water for the first time in what felt like 100 years, startling Dean.

He searched for an obvious indicator of what was wrong, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You answered, “Just not used to this.”

Dean nodded, “tell me if you get uncomfortable.”

From the corner of the shower, Dean grabbed a bottle of your shampoo and lathered it in his hands after you had washed the dirt off your body.

“You kept that?” You asked astonished, tears welling up again.

“Smells like you. I couldn’t get rid of it.” “The day I got rid of it was the day I accepted that you were gone.”

Dean held you close to him and washed your hair as warm tears streamed down your face. You sniffled and Dean looked at you again, wrapping you in a warm embrace and letting his own tears flow.

“I didn’t know what to do without you.” He said honestly, “I can’t function without you.”

“I’m sorry Dean.” You said into his shoulder, “I never wanted to leave you.” “I had to.”

“I know. It’s our job.” He sniffled, “You did a good thing.” “Let’s just not do it again.”

“Agreed.” You chuckled, feeling the last of the conditioner he had run through your hair rinse out.

The two of you dried off and changed. He gave you a set of sweatpants and one of his t shirts you always liked to wear. Wordlessly, the two of you fell onto the bed and held each other closely. His breath fanned against your skin in a warm sweep.

“Hey. Look at me.” He said, his fingers resting under your chin and pulling you to look at him, “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t thought about this yet, only being concerned that you were breathing and with Dean. The flashes of what you currently remembered from hell blipped against your memory and the spaced look you gave Dean told him what he needed to know before you said it.

“No.” you answered calmly, “But I know I will be.”

Dean looked at you and spoke sternly but softly, “Don’t hide anything from me. If you have a nightmare, wake me up. If you start feeling all weird about it tell me. I love you Y/N. I don’t want you to hurt.”

“I promise.” You answered, “I love you two.” It was a little while before you felt yourself drifting to sleep, but after a while you managed to. You’d deal with the nightmares and daydreams about hell later. For now, all that mattered was that you were back where you belonged. You were back with Dean.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x y/n #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine

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lemon-ams111 · 17 days ago

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secret no more

offstage (part two)

We were in Venice, Italy, enjoying a beautiful day out with Billie’s bandmates and friends — grabbing ice cream, visiting landmarks, taking pictures, talking, laughing. Billie had her little digital camera with her, capturing everything. It felt so simple, so free. Just us, soaking in the moment.

When we got back to our hotel, we ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate our anniversary quietly — just the two of us, in the comfort of our room. The weather was too perfect to ignore, so we stepped out onto the balcony.

I leaned against the railing, glass in hand, as Billie pointed the camera at me.

“’Kay, now pose for me,” she said with a silly grin.

I smiled, holding the glass toward the camera as she snapped a picture.

“So pretty,” she whispered, peeking at me over the lens.

My smile softened. The world seemed to pause as she set the camera down on the railing and stepped closer.

“You really are adorable. And beautiful. You know that, right?” I whispered.

She didn’t answer — just closed the distance between us. Her hand found my cheek, thumb brushing my skin. Mine landed naturally on her waist.

“Happy three years, Y/N,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss me.

I met her lips with the same tenderness, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of her skirt.

“Happy three years, Bil baby,” I whispered against her mouth as we pulled apart.

She smiled and took a sip of her champagne. We stayed on the balcony a while longer, talking quietly and savoring the moment, just the two of us under the soft Venice light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Billie had a show in Bologna, so we spent most of it at the arena.

I sat on the pit floor with some of her team during rehearsals, singing along, watching every detail, offering thoughts when Billie asked how things looked from my perspective.

Later, we were backstage. Billie, Jane, and Ava were doing their makeup while I lounged on the couch, camera in hand, filming them just as they started teasing Abe — again. We laughed so hard, I almost dropped the camera.

Once everyone was ready, we headed out to a secluded section of the stands to watch Tom Odell’s set. Billie’s arm wrapped around my shoulders; mine snuck around her waist. The Horner sisters flanked us, arms linked as we swayed softly to the music.

About ten minutes before Billie’s set, we were backstage again. She was going over last-minute details with her band, while I stood off to the side texting one of my best friends.

Then I got a message:

“Y/N, check Twitter. Now.”

I frowned. The reception in the arena was awful — too many people — but I managed to open the app. The first thing I saw was a loading image. It wasn’t even visible yet, but the caption was enough:

“Billie Eilish and Y/N Y/L/N confirm romance with a steamy balcony kiss.”

All the blood drained from my face.

I looked up at Billie, who was still in conversation. My hands were shaking. I didn’t have time to think, because her manager suddenly appeared.

“Billie, Y/N — we need to talk,” he said, serious.

I walked over, placing my hand on the small of her back. He led us away from everyone and showed us his phone.

Billie furrowed her brow, then sighed, her eyes meeting mine.

“They caught us,” I whispered.

She nodded, squeezing my hand. I could tell she was holding it together — trying not to let the frustration show.

“This was bound to happen,” she said quietly.

It wasn’t about people finding out. We’d planned to go public soon anyway. What stung was that the choice — our choice — had been taken from us.

I slipped my arm around her shoulders as we both looked to her manager.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do about this,” he said. “I’ll help if you want, but I trust you two to handle it the right way. I’m sorry it happened like this.”

He gave Billie’s shoulder a squeeze before someone called his name and he stepped away.

I turned to her, frowning, my hand running gently down her arm.

“Okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“At least we’re in this together,” she said softly, her smile small but real.

I smiled back, leaning in to kiss her.

“Come on,” I said, tugging her hand gently. “You’ve got a show to do.”

We returned to the group. They’d seen the tweets. They already knew.

“Those fucking paparazzi, I swear to God,” Ava muttered when we joined them, rolling her eyes.

Billie and I both smiled, nodding to let them know we were okay — or at least trying to be.

Soon someone came over to tell Billie it was time. She had to get into the box that would take her under the stage.

I cupped her cheeks gently, thumbs brushing along her skin.

“You’re gonna do amazing, love. I’ll be watching the whole time.”

“Thank you, baby girl,” she whispered, leaning in for one last kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bee.”

She climbed in. The team wheeled her away, and I made my way up into the stands — ready to watch her light up the world.

part 2???

#billie eilish #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie x reader #billie #eilish #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish imagine #billie fanfiction #wlw fic #wlw post #wlw #hmhas #hmhas tour #hmhas billie eilish #lesbian #gxg

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kjthenbee · 8 months ago

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The more I think about the Nandermo interview scene at the end of S6E3, the more I realize just how significant that entire scene is for Nandor as a character.

These first three episodes have told us multiple times that Nandor is not the person he used to be - he is no longer a purely violent, apathetic, selfish man (though he obviously retains some of those qualities). He's changed - he's softer. And Guillermo is the reason for this change.

We've seen how Nandor used to treat Guillermo early on in the series. I can imagine that when little 19yo Guillermo first came to him, Nandor was dismissive, thinking of him as nothing more than another familiar that he was going to string along for years - and, of course, bright-eyed young Guillermo, who was willing to do whatever it took to become a vampire, wouldn't have cared how he was treated.

But now, 15 some years later, everything is different. Guillermo isn't his familiar anymore. They aren't bound by the power imbalance of that relationship any longer. Guillermo has become someone important to Nandor, possibly more important than anyone has ever been before. No matter how much shit they've gone through, or how much Nandor has fucked things up, Guillermo has always stayed, and he has always cared. Even when he does leave, he never stays gone for long. Nandor has never experienced this type of a relationship with someone before - a relationship with someone who loves and cares for him unconditionally.

In the interview scene, Nandor totally could have messed with Guillermo, could have just... not taken him seriously. He could have done the interview in the main room with all the other vampires and had a laugh about the whole thing, but he didn't. He specifically took Guillermo to a private room to conduct the "interview". And the entire time, he treated it with the utmost sincerity- and you can see it in the way he looks at Guillermo with such attentiveness, such fondness. He lets him talk, and just listens. When Guillermo talks about not having many friends as a child, Nandor sympathizes and tells him that that must have been hard even if he himself does not know what this is like. He smiles with him, and laughs with him.

On top of all of this, Nandor very much could have left Guillermo hypnotized - he could have had his former meek, obedient familiar back by his side. The Nandor from just a couple of seasons ago might have done just that. But now, he's learned. He knows that he can't do that to Guillermo. He can't do that to someone he genuinely loves cares about deeply. The Guillermo that he knows now - confident, competent, and sure of himself - is the Guillermo he loves. Nandor does not want to take that away from him for his own selfish reasons. So, he just lets himself have one thing: Guillermo can sleep under the stairs one last time, then he'll unhypnotize him, and things will be back to the way they were - with them at a distance. But at least Guillermo will be himself.

Soooo yeah. I really hope that this is not just fanservice or whatever and that the writers are actually setting something up between them this time. I want so badly to believe that we might actually get some payoff to this 5 season long will-they-won't-they setup. I mean, seriously - what do the writers have to lose with this being the final season?

I'm trying not to keep my expectations too high just because of how many times we've been burned in the past, but this scene (along with the shed scene where Nandor was still talking like Nixon lmao) have gotten me hopeful again...

So here I am, back in Nandermo hell, one last time...

#nandermo #wwdits #wwdits meta #wwdits s6 #wwdits spoilers #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #what we do in the shadows

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unkn0wn-writing · 2 months ago

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Hiccup x G/N, Autistic Reader

Summary: You hide away from the rest of Berk and Hiccup finds you.

Warnings: Descriptions of behaviour the reader does. Tried to keep it as neutral as possible, but I don't think it completely worked.

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: None

If Hiccup had to pick a word for you he wouldn’t be able to find one. At least, not one that he thinks completely fits you.

There are words that may work, but not fully. They’re only half of who you are.

You’re… a strange one. But suppose that he is as well. He isn’t the typical Viking one might think of.

But you’re drifting off from conversations that don’t keep your interests, always on the outskirts of whatever it is the other Vikings are talking about.

It doesn’t help that they don’t try to include you in the conversations either.

Ruffnut grumbled about how you hadn’t gone along with her and her brother's midday idea that they’d sprung up on you. You’d drifted away from them, ever so slowly, as they spoke over each other and argued about it.

Fighleg murmured about your aversion to some of the items in the dragon fighting arena. It had been after the fighting rather than mid-fighting, luckily enough. He’d also mentioned to Hiccup how you seemed so intrigued by one of the textures you’d been given in the past.

Astrid had once spoken about how you’d do some odd movements or echo phrases other people had said or hum to yourself. But she’d also spoken of how quiet you are. Days where you’d say nothing, just remain silent. Either drifting away from people or staying too close.

Snotlout also spoke of how you’d distance yourself from other people. it seemed more of a complaint than making a note about who you are, however.

Stepping around Berk carefully - half to get used to the new leg, half to just take his time and see how much it’s all changed - he frowns (more to himself than anyone else).

Unable to see you, he treks onwards, Toothless bounding up beside him and following wherever he goes. The dragon’s hovering (can dragons hover?) around him as he moves.

“I’m fine,” he says as Toothless slightly moves into his path, as if trying to get him to go back and sit down.

Toothless makes a vaguely annoyed noise at him and he nods his head with a roll of his eyes.

“Sure, sure, sure. I can go back in a bit. I’m fine for the minute. What - what’s that look for? It’s the truth.”

Once more, Toothless grumbles back at him. He huffs, but continues onwards. Bending down and passing by low branches.

He doesn’t feel you’d be in here, but so far, everywhere else he’d tried he hadn’t found you.

It’s either this, you’ve disappeared off to somewhere or you’re really good at hiding. Or he forgot to check some other place.

He’s not sure which is the most likely.

Huffing as he whacks some twigs out of the way, he shakes his head. Trekking onwards, his eyes shift around. Meeting only green, green, more green and some brown from the trees.

No sign of you just yet.

Toothless hops ahead of him, seeming to no longer want to try to get him back to the main island of Berk to rest and just going along with Hiccup.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t too long for the dragon to give up. Or not surprisingly.

Nearly stumbling over an overgrown root, he grasps out for something. Hands reaching the sharp bark of a tree and smooth scales of Toothless.

“Thanks,” he says, wiping his hands on his vest then continuing onwards.

A little further, then he’ll turn back if he can’t find you. Just a little more.

Shaking his head, it dips, hair hanging over his eyes as he focuses on the forest floor and not falling again.

Eyes roving around the space once more, he lets out a short breath.

Not here, so far.

Just where could you be?

You can’t have run off to just anywhere. From what he’s heard, you stick to the same few places if something happens to upset you. All the one’s he’s checked so far you aren’t there.

Where could you be?

Glancing around once more reveals he’s lost Toothless.

How did he lose a dragon? One of life’s greatest mysteries.

Pushing through a few bushes, he huffs a breath. Now he’s looking for a person and a dragon. Who could he possibly find first?

Both, actually.

At the exact same time.

You’re sat beside a bubbling creek, limbs brought close together. Cuddling into yourself, almost. The water spits out at you, but it never reaches your skin.

Toothless is beside you. He’s fidgeting, sitting down then getting back up. The dragon finally decides to settle beside you, laying down on the rock you’d perched yourself on.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat after. You glance behind yourself for a moment, checking he’s there, then you move back to stare ahead.

Strange is a word to describe you. He’d consider this all quite strange, really.

But he doesn’t feel it fully encapsulates this movement. It’s not… too strange, he thinks.

In the past, even without meaning too, he’d heard whispers of you. Running away, hiding from the world, until you later come out as the same person as before.

This…

You don’t seem completely like the same person as before. Not here. Not beside the creek that kicks up water every so often then settles back down.

“Hey,” he says. You glance over at him as his voice rebounds across the unending space you’ve kept a secret. He’d tried to keep his tone soft, but it still echoes about the two of you, as if he’d still spoken far too loud.

“Everyone thought we’d lost you,” he says, aiming for a joke. He just gets a shake of your head and you look away from him in reply.

Days in the past, there had also been days in which you’d not speak to them. You’d just sit quietly, letting people try to talk to you and not receive a response or you’d try get them to leave you alone.

Today seems like it might be one of those days. One where you just want to be left alone with no one to bother you. Just you and the creek to keep you company.

However, you don’t try to get him to leave as he slowly draw closer to you.

He considers his options. Asking you what happened wouldn’t be the best; you likely wouldn’t give a response.

Maybe asking how he could help would work better? But, then again, it might not. You still might not answer.

So… seeing if he can stay with you seems like the best solution. If you’ll allow him.

“Is this space taken?” he asks, motioning to the space beside where you're sat. Eyes draw over to it, up to him, then away.

No response, but you’re not shooing him away. At least, not yet.

Toothless lets out a low warble from beside you. Not one that’s upset or angered, it’s more close to contentment.

Or the dragon’s telling Hiccup to stop being an idiot. He can never completely tell which it might be in those moments.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks. You look back at him. Slowly, almost hesitantly. But not hesitantly?

It takes a short while before you seem to respond. Even then, it isn’t verbal. You just nod.

Hiccup nods back. He settles on the floor, Toothless wrapping himself around you both.

Neither of you speak during the time. He gazes out, watching the sky or the trees whistle along.

At some point, he takes his small notepad out to make notes.

You don’t move much. He doesn’t force you to. He doesn’t try to make you speak or talk about… this, letting you remain there. A presence for him and him a presence for you.

It’s relaxing. It’s nice.

By the time the sun sets, he still doesn’t know what’s wrong, but he feels you’re… better? Somehow?

Less tense, he thinks is the right wording for it.

It’s nice.

Eyes moving to the sky, he hums then motions to you, “want to go back?”

Still, you don’t reply. But at his offered hand, you stand and quietly follow him back into Berk.

#gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #hiccup x reader #autistic reader #hiccup haddock #hiccup and toothless #httyd hiccup #how to train your dragon #reader insert #x reader

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msnmnt · 6 months ago

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The Very First Night

Notes: Happy New Year’s Eve Eve!

I think this is my longest fic yet so I really hope you enjoy. Feedback is very much welcomed as always 🥰

Summary: On New Year's Eve, Mason’s car breaks down, leaving you both stranded in the middle of nowhere. With no choice but to find shelter till you can be rescued in the morning, you stumble upon a little B&B where you end up sharing a bed for the night. Lots of fluff as you navigate the uncertainty and awkwardness of unexpectedly being so close early on in your relationship. 🩶

You tried your best to keep your smile at bay as you looked out of the passenger window of Mason’s car. The soft sound of the radio played in the background, enjoying an otherwise comfortable silence as Mason navigated the winding country roads that looped around the lakes, guiding the two of you home.

Your fingers absent mindingly traced at the edge of the map you’d been following throughout the day, spending hours in quaint cafes, visiting quirky shops as you enjoyed some time together away from the non stop festivities.

The day had been nothing short of perfect - just the two of you away from everything with no real direction as you let the day unfold as it pleased.

After meeting at a mutual friend’s Halloween party, Mason had taken you on a few dates with each one topping the last, but you knew this one would be even tougher to beat.

The sun had began to dip beneath the horizon when a jarring sound suddenly interrupted the quiet of the car. A loud thump was followed by a scraping noise and Mason’s eyes darted to the mirror as the car veered slightly to one side.

“Shit," he muttered, slowing the car as he led it to the side of the road. "I think we’ve got a flat tyre.”

Your heart skipped in your chest as you turned to him, your voice light with worry. “Seriously?”

Mason let out a soft laugh in disbelief this was actually happening, running a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately I think so, angel.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest once more, this time at the nickname Mason had recently given you.

Mason managed to get the car into a lay by, parking it up as close to the side as possible. The evening was growing darker by the minute and all that was on Mason’s mind was how he could keep you as safe as possible.

“Wait here, I’ll go check what the damage is.” You watched on from the comfort of your heated seat as he scrunched up his brows, his tongue darting out as he inspected the tyre. After a few more moments of him shining the torch light from his phone to inspect the damage, Mason signalled it wasn't good news as he shook his head, his disappointed eyes meeting yours.

You unbuckled your seatbelt before stepping out of the car and joining Mason, straight away noticing the sharp nail that had somehow ended up impaling your transportation home.

You glanced around, tugging your bottom lip between you teeth as you thought about what you were doing to do. It was New Year’s Eve, you were quite literally in the middle of nowhere and the nearest town, or even a shop, felt miles away.

“What do we do now?” you asked, uncertainty creeping into your voice.

Mason walked around the car, inspecting the flat tyre again, He shook his head, his expression half-amused and half-annoyed. “Well, it's New Year's Eve so everyone’s probably at least half cut by now.” He signed. “And the wait for recovery is bound to be hours.”

You swallowed, trying to push down the nervousness that bubbled in your chest. "So… what, we’re just stuck here?"

Mason looked back at you with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he tried to comfort you, sensing your apprehension at being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Mason took your hand in his and suddenly everything felt like it would be okay.

The quiet of the countryside was broken only by the distant rustle of wind through the trees and the occasional car driving by in the distance, too far to flag down to ask for any kind of help.

“We passed a bed and breakfast not long ago, it’s just back up the road.”

You nodded, thankful to have somewhere where the two of you could feel safer than the roadside till someone was sober enough to come to your rescue in the morning.

Mason tightly gripped your hand as he spun you around so he was walking closest to the road offer he led you back in the direction you had came from. Luckily after around just 10 minutes later, you arrived at the cozy, ivy-covered inn that Mason had spotted earlier. The B&B had an old-world charm, bright lights from the windows gleaming in the early evening gloom.

You let your body embrace the warm as soon as you walked in, leaving Mason to do all the explaining to the old woman behind the desk. Luckily she was sweet and accommodating, gushing at how cold and worried you must've been.

“You're in luck, we have one room left,” she explained, her voice raspy but kind. “It’s got a large bed, so you two should be fine."

Mason glanced across to you, his heart suddenly thudding harder than it had all day. Your eyes flicked up to his, equally unsure of what to say. You'd been on a few dates, but the pair of you had agreed to take things slow.

And sharing a bed?

That was new ground entirely.

“Is that okay?” Mason asked, trying to sound casual but failing a little as he snapped you from your thoughts.

You hesitated at first but quickly nodded when you realised, offering the lady a thankful smile. “I think we’ll manage."

The room was small but charming, a warm looking quilt covering the bed and lace curtains blowing gently in the cool breeze that came from the window which was slightly ajar.

The light from a single lamp cast a soft glow over the room, and you felt your nerves spike, unsure of how you were going to handle this unexpected first night together.

A self proclaimed control freak, a B&B in the middle of nowhere was not how you had invisioned your first night with Mason.

He put the few belongings he did have down onto the small wooden desk, consisting of a phone charger and a small toiletries bag that he was grateful he always kept in the boot of his car.

“I hope she didn’t think this was a one night stand.” Mason spoke, the idea of the sweet old lady thinking he had bought a one night stand to her small and clearly family run B&B making him feel a little guilty.

You mockingly gasped, your jaw dropping open and eyes widening. “Excuse me, do I look like a one night stand kind of girl?” You thought your voice was clear with sarcasm, but Mason’s jaw tensed slightly as he became overcome with worry that he had offended you. Mason knew your relationship was still in its early days, and he daren't put even a foot wrong to mess up what he was sure was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Mason internally cursed himself for his comment, looking like a deer in the headlights as he tried to explain himself. “No! No, not at all, I just meant because we have literally like almost no belongings between us, I didn’t mean it like th-“

Your lips turned upwards as a giggle fell from your lips, a sound Mason was sure was one of the sweetest to have ever graced his ears. A wave of relief washed over Mason as he realised you were only playing around.

“Did you, um, would you want my shirt? To sleep in, I mean.” His eyes dropped down to take in your attire, a long sleeved knitted dress with a bulky cardigan over the top. “Dresses aren’t the most comfortable to sleep in.”

You raised your eyebrows. “And do you have much experience sleeping in dresses, Mr Mount?”

Mason’s cheeks reddened as he struggled to come up with a response, and you begun to feel a little bad at your relentless teasing. As much as you loved seeing him getting flustered, you felt a little guilty and didn’t want to end up accidentally pissing him off, especially when you were stranded in the middle of nowhere with no means of getting home.

You bowed your head slightly, unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, sarcasm is my defence mechanism when I’m nervous.” You mumbled out, offering a shy, apologetic smile.

“Why’re you nervous, angel?” He stepped forwards, reaching out a hand to cradle your face. It was your turn to blush this time, his long fingers cupped perfectly around your burning cheek, which did wonders to settle his own nerves. “There’s nothing to worry about, it’s just me.”

Your heart jumped in your chest as his dark orbs stared so intensely down at you. “Sharing a bed with a pretty boy is a little nerve wracking.” You admitted sheepishly.

A grin plastered across his face at your words. “Just imagine how nervous I feel with how gorgeous you are then.” He booped your nose with his thumb and you couldn't fight a big smile from forming on your face, perfectly matching his.

“I’d like it. Your shirt, if that’s still okay.”

Straight away Mason nodded. “Of course.” he took a step back and pulled at the collar of his white tee, stripping it off his body and over his head.

He muddled with the shirt, attempting to fold it up before walking over to the queen size bed and placing it on top of the duvet. Your eyes raked over his body, your heart booming as you stared at his perfectly defined back, blood rushing straight to your head as he turned to face you and you took in his bare chest for the first time.

His heart soared as your eyes became fixated on his abs, scanning over the ridges of his muscles, the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. You were completely and utterly enamoured with him.

You knew you had been caught by the smirk that was spread across Mason’s face, but he was more than happy to let you indulge in his body all you liked, deciding not to risk potentially embarrassing you by drawing attention to it.

“I’ll go to the bathroom, give you some time to get changed, okay?”

You just nodded, words escaping you as your gaze moved to his slight smile, being unable to look him in the eyes.

As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut, you let out the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding in.

You wandered over to the small mirror that was above an old fashioned wooden desk, tousling your hair between your fingers before rubbing at the smudged eyeliner under your eyes, trying your best to rub away the mess.

You removed your cardigan, carefully placing it over the chair underneath the desk. It looked equally as ancient as the rest of the furniture in the room, and you definitely didn’t want to break anything.

You slipped off your dress, cursing yourself for not wearing matching underwear. You frowned at your boring baby pink bralette and white knickers. You couldn’t never preempted that this was the way the day was going to end.

Walking over to the end of the bed, you picked up Mason’s top and pulled it over your head, the familiar smell of his aftershave enveloping you. The shirt just about covered your bum, hitting the top of your thighs.

“Am I okay to come out?

You jumped at the sound of Mason’s voice from behind the en-suite door, taking one last look in the mirror before quickly making your way over to the bed.

“Yeah.”

If he was at home, Mason would never go to bed in anything more than a pair of boxers. But he didn’t want to risk giving you the wrong idea or making you feel uncomfortable, and so he decided to keep his jogging bottoms from the day on.

Right on queue, Mason walked in to you flopping onto the bed, stifling a laugh when the bed made an almighty creak as you settled atop it. You frowned, sitting yourself up and cringing as the bed squeaked further at your every move.

“So minimal movements throughout the night, got it.” Mason laughed, climbing onto the bed himself.

He finally turned to you, a sickly sweet feeling swarming in his tummy as he took in the sight of you in his shirt. You begun to feel nervous as you felt his eyes taking in your body, feeling a little self conscious, repositioning to enable you to tug the duvet up and wrap it over your lower body.

Mason joined you under the duvet, quickly extending his arm and beckoning for you to come snuggle up to him. You gladly obliged, tucking your head under his arm and wrapping your arm around his bare chest. The warmth of his skin against the side of your face made your mind feel hazy, the new position adding an element of intimacy to your relationship which you hadn’t been expecting to come so soon, but now it was here, you were glad to welcome it.

The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder than it had before. The quiet, steady rhythm of its hands echoed in the stillness of the room as the pair of you laid intertwined, barely moving as you just enjoyed the intimacy of the situation you had ended up in, your legs tangling together as you listened to Mason’s steady heartbeat.

The warmth from the bed had settled between you, but it was the quiet energy in the air that made it feel like time itself had slowed. You were close - closer than you had ever been before, and despite the nerves you couldn't deny how right it felt to be held in Mason's arms.

Outside, the faint sound of fireworks popped in the distance, echoing through the dark and signaling the approach of the new year. You looked back over at the ticking clock on the wall before glancing at Mason, your breath catching when you realised how close to midnight it was.

"Ten minutes to go," you murmured, voice quiet, barely above a whisper.

Mason nodded, flicking between you and the clock, then back to your face. You lifted your head slightly, still comfortably in his arms, his eyes dark and warm in the low light. They quickly locked on your lips for a brief moment before he pulled his stare back to your eyes, but the look hadn't gone unnoticed.

There it was again - the pull, the undeniable magnetic force. You felt it more now than ever.

“So, you got any resolutions?” Mason asked, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to shake the nerves. He shifted a little, the arm you weren't laying on coming down to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing gentle strokes on your bare skin.

You felt shivers go up your spine, your cheeks warming as he held you so tightly to his chest. Your lips twitched into a smile. “Maybe… to stop feeling so nervous around you." You paused, then added with a teasing glint in your eyes, “And to learn how to stop blushing whenever you look at me.”

Mason laughed, low and soft, but his eyes softened when they met yours. “I don’t think you can stop blushing. I mean… it’s cute."

Your heart skipped again, and you couldn’t help the way your face warmed, despite your attempts to play it cool.

You gave in, hiding your face into his chest which vibrated as he chuckled at seeing you flustered.

You gathered the courage to raise your hand up to his bare chest, gently tracing little shapes with your finger tip. A low laugh hit your ears and you swallowed at the feel of being so close to Mason for the first time. You loved his warm skin on yours, his heart now thudding loudly away under your touch.

“Tickles, baby.” Mason mumbled and you smiled, secretly rather pleased with yourself, switching to use your nails to drag random patterns over his abs. The sensation made Mason tighten his grip on your waist making goosebumps form on your body.

You let out a satisfied hum, rather pleased with yourself before stopping and twitching slightly to nuzzle further into Mason’s grip.

You cuddled back into his chest and Mason was quick to wrap his arm tightly around you once more. You laid there in complete content, not being able to stop your eyes from fluttering closed.

Mason smiled to himself, happy you felt comfortable around him.

“You sleepy, angel?” He murmed, and you barely managing to mumble back a yes.

“I wasn’t but you’re warm and cosy.”

He chuckled at that, his heart warming.

Mason lent down and gently placed a tender kiss to your head, his lips barely brushing your forehead before caressing the bare skin of your arm with the pads of his fingers.

The sound of fireworks echoed through the room, the familiar tone of the new year ringing out across the quiet, making the moment feel all the more real. Your pulse quickened, and for a moment, the world outside - the fireworks, the noise, the time - it all faded.

The pair of you were only aware of each other.

You turned your head up to Mason just as the last chime rang out. He glanced at you lovingly, taking in the moment. You swallowed, your heart beating louder in your chest. His gentle movements, the way he held you as the clock struck midnight. You knew you were right where you needed to be.

"Happy New Year, y/n." He whispered.

Before you could respond, his hand gently cupped your cheek. He leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for something, permission, maybe, but you didn’t want to wait anymore. You tilted your head slightly, feeling your breath catch in your throat as you closed the distance.

The kiss was tentative at first, a soft meeting of your lips that lingered longer than either of you expected. A simple touch, almost shy, yet full of everything you were yet to say. Mason's lips were warm, his hand brushing a lock of hair behind your ear as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your hand found its way back to his chest, feeling the drum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. When he pulled back, just a fraction, your foreheads met, and for a long, lingering moment, neither of you moved.

“I didn’t think we'd end up here tonight.” Mason whispered, his voice rougher than before. “I mean, in bed with each other.”

You smiled, lips tingling from the softness of the kiss. “Me neither.” Your fingers gently traced the edge of his jaw, your gaze locked with his. “But I’m glad we did.”

“Me too,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted closer, the warmth of his body against yours sending an electric thrill through your veins.

You both knew it was more than just a kiss. It wasn’t just about the timing or the situation shared between you. It was the feeling - the way everything about today now felt like it was leading to this exact moment. A kiss shared in the quiet of an unexpected new year, both of you uncertain and shy but so completely, undeniably there in the moment.

For a moment, you just stayed close, breathing each other in. The fireworks were lighter now and through the light curtains you could see bursts of bright colours against the dark sky. But inside the room, it was just the two of you. Silent, content, and intertwined in a way neither had imagined would happen yet.

Mason didn't want to push his luck, completely respectful of your boundaries and not wanting to risk making you feel uncomfortable. But when he saw your eyes fixated on his again, following them down as they flickered towards his lips, he gently brushed his lips against yours once again, this time allowing himself to deepen the kiss as he slipped his tongue past your slightly parted lips. The moment was still soft and tender, both of you basking in the intimacy.

When you finally pulled away, it was slowly, as if neither of you wanted to fully break the spell.

You looked at Mason, cheeks flushed, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Happy New Year, Mason."

He returned your smile, his eyes shining bright with excitement for what was to come in the year ahead for the pair of you. “Happy New Year, y/n.”

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount smut

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deakyjoe · 3 months ago

Text

Stay Sweet

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader (afab)

Category: smut

Summary: Copia is all too enthusiastic when you suggest something new.

Warnings: 18+, smut, f receiving oral, face sitting, dry humping, kissing, Copia’s nose, Copia being beautiful, Copia worshipping reader, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 2k

A/N: Happy Birthday @littlemissemeritus!! I cannot believe writing a face sitting fic for you motivated me to get back into writing after several months. Hope you have a good one today, this is for you :)

The Cardinal had such a beautiful face. It was the kind of face that artists yearned for as to inspire their pieces of work. You could imagine that anyone with an ounce of talent in their bodies would long for him to be their muse. He had the kind of face that people went to war for.

Which is why you had the burning urge to sit on it.

Especially his nose. His gorgeous nose.

A flurry of butterflies swarmed in your stomach any time he looked at you, which had been a lot in more recent times. Ever since he expressed an interest in you really. You had always admired him from a distance, keeping away from him as your desire for him overwhelmed you any time you were in close contact. So you watched him, just looked at him, from afar. It turned out that he felt the same way for you, as he awkwardly admitted one day. He was endearing as well as beautiful which really screwed you over - the lust that buzzed in your bloodstream only doubling with that new information.

Another fun fact about the charming Cardinal Copia was that he worshipped you. By simply throwing him the bone of sharing a mutual affection for each other, he was willing to do anything for you. Which is why it didn't take too long once the intimate side of your relationship had started for you to express your want, no need, to sit on his face. And he was all too happy to hear it.

The way his eyes lit up at the mere notion of it showed you how in tune the two of you were. His words only solidified this. "I think that is a wonderful idea."

You weren't entirely surprised by his enthusiasm, he had shown in the past how willing he was to try anything in the bedroom with you. And with how much he practically bowed down before you and grovelled at your feet, it wasn't exactly a shock that he liked the idea of you potentially suffocating him by sitting on his face and crushing his head between your thighs. Not that you'd let that happen, you liked him too much so would prefer it if he stayed alive. Copia wouldn't have hesitated in saying that dying as a consequence of giving you an orgasm would be a pretty good way to go.

You were, however, slightly surprised when he suggested going forward with the activity right then and there in the moment.

"Wait, right now?" You gasped at him.

"Why not?" Copia shrugged in response, a smile on his face. "I have time. You have time. My bed is right there."

Your eyes drifted towards the piece of furniture in his room. You should've seen this coming really with how you'd brought up the idea whilst in his bedroom. It seemed only natural to immediately give it a go.

He saw you hesitate. "My face is also willing and available."

Your gaze snapped back towards his face. His beautiful, beautiful face. His nose really was calling to you, begging to be ridden on.

"Okay, let's do it."

"Great!" Copia cheered and bounded over to the bed, leaping onto the mattress and landing on his pillows with a couple of small bounces. He starfished momentarily before waving you over. "Come, come! So I can make you come!"

You shook your head at his joke, stifling a smile, and started kicking off your shoes. Pausing, you stared at Copia sprawled on the bed. He was fully dressed, and would remain so. You, on the other hand, would be have to be naked from at least the waist down.

The Cardinal noticed your hesitation and pushed himself up on his elbows to look at you. "If it makes you feel better, I am very excited about this."

The sincere grin on his face, the face you were about to sit on, was very convincing of his enthusiasm. So you stripped. Well, stripped from the waist down at least. And then you crawled onto the bed, smiling at Copia as he flattened himself against the bed again, fully prepared for what was to come. However, he appeared confused once the length of your body covered his and you stopped with your face hanging over his.

"Amore, what are you doing? This is not prime position for what we discussed." Copia's eyes roamed your face, affection filling them as he gazed up at you. He was confused but he certainly was not complaining when he had your breathtaking face so close to his own. He always found himself feeling rather lucky that you felt the same way for him as he did for you. When he had first admitted his feelings, he had expected that he would have needed to grovel at your feet in order to convince you to go on one date with him. He was shocked when you had immediately announced that you found him beautiful and jumped at the chance to spend the evening with him. It had only gone uphill from there.

"That'll come soon enough." You nudged your nose against his. "But kissing first."

"Well, if you insist." Copia chuckled lowly and closed the inch of distance between the two of you, his lips covering yours.

It was always nice kissing the Cardinal. Extremely nice. He knew the perfect ratio of lips to tongue, the exact way to have your toes curling without even touching you intimately with his hands, and the precise moment to break away that always left you craving more. He always had you clinging onto him, trying to pull him impossibly closer, bucking your hips against him with the desire for some sort of friction. You believed it was part due to your carnal attraction to him based on his beautiful face, but you knew it was because he possessed the gift of knowing you, of understanding you. He could sense exactly what would get you ticking and used that to his full advantage.

Which is why it didn't take him long before he was sliding one his thighs in between yours and pressing it against you.

You whimpered against his mouth and reluctantly broke the kiss. "That is not what we agreed."

Copia smiled. "Oh but, amore, I know it's what you want."

Damn, he was right. How he read you so well would continue to be a mystery. But oh, it was a mystery that you loved.

So you kissed him again and rutted your hips against his thigh, letting out a soft moan against his mouth as you did so. This sound made Copia smile, as it usually did. The initial objective was forgotten momentarily as you suddenly favoured the idea of riding his thigh rather than his face. This particular activity wasn't new for the two of you, in fact it happened to be one of the first things that you had explored with him and tended to make an appearance during every sexual encounter with him.

You desperately grinded your pelvis against his thigh, chasing the high that you knew would come soon enough. The Cardinal could sense your impending orgasm so shifted his leg into a slightly different position that would get you there sooner. He knew all the tricks with you, after all. But just as you inched closer and closer to that inevitable drop, Copia dropped his thigh from beneath you and slide it out from between your legs.

You groaned in protest. "Why? Why did you do that?"

The quaking feeling of the approaching orgasm faded away into a buzz that had you clenching around nothing. You hated him sometimes. Despite worshipping the ground you walked on, he could also be a tease.

"I think it is time for you to sit on my face now, don't you think?" He grinned up at you like the Chesire Cat and made a circular motion with his hand at his face. "Use this to make you come instead?"

He knew exactly how to get you.

Seeing the desire in your eyes, he patted his chest. "First slide on up here and take a seat."

You did as you were told, very aware that your arousal was staining his clothes. "Now what?"

"Now you sit on my face."

With a low sigh, you scooted forward until you were hovering over his face. But then you paused.

Copia's hands rested on your thighs, gliding up and down the skin to calm you. "Sit down. I promise it'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I don't want to break anything."

He laughed. "You won't. Just sit."

"But... your nose." You whined, thinking about how one slight slip up could leave it a mess forever. A crooked nose would look good on him, granted, but you did also like the way it looked now very much.

Copia huffed. "I can wait here all day if you like, I have a very nice view, but it's you who will be left with cramping legs and sexual frustration if you do not sit down."

He was right. The bastard. So you sat.

The delighted squeak that left Copia and was muffled against you did not leave you regretting that decision.

There was only a fraction of a second of delay, that had you wondering whether you had suffocated him, before his tongue darted out and swiped against you.

"Oh." Your hips squirmed at the sensation, the angle somewhat different to usual oral.

Copia's hands gripped your thighs tightly, somehow forcing you to sit against him even harder. It was like the taste of you sent him into a frenzy, it had, that caused him to make his mouth go wild on you. He devoured you. Licking, biting, sucking, shaking his head from side to side. Anything that he could reach was touched by his mouth at least once.

One of your hands flew to the headboard of his bed, clinging on for stability, whilst the other slapped across your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds that were attempting to escape you. But as much as you could control the sounds your mouth was making, you could not control the movement of your hips. A primal urge overtook you that had you rutting your hips backwards and forwards. And once your clit hit his nose, you were done for.

A choked cry left your throat, the hand covering your mouth abandoning it's mission and flying down to grip onto Copia's greying hair instead. The grasp you had on him kept him in exactly the position you wanted as you rode his face, pelvis circling so the tip of his nose continuously hit exactly where you needed it to. The Cardinal beneath you had no issues with that and just carried on using his tongue to hungrily eat you like you were his last meal.

So lost in your own ecstasy, you didn't notice the squeaking of the bed springs behind you as Copia uselessly thrust his hips up into the air seeking out a friction that did not exist. However, he suspected he was probably going to come based on the taste of you alone. So sweet. So delicious. So addictive.

You weren't surprised at how little it took to have you approaching the edge of your orgasm with how good it felt. You expected maybe a few more knocks of your clit against his nose would have you there but you were caught off guard when the tips of the Cardinal's fingers dug so deeply into the flesh of your thighs that you predicted you would be seeing bruises sometime soon, and he pushed his face even harder against you. With the added pressure, your body tensed up and you crashed over the edge.

A strangled scream left your mouth as you collapsed against the headboard. Copia smoothed his hands up and down your thighs to calm you down as you slowed your breathing down, eventually lifting a shaking leg to move off of his face and sit down next to him.

The room was silent for only a moment before your beautiful Cardinal spoke.

"Well, that was fun." He chimed happily. "We should do that again."

You glanced over at him, taking in the sight of his skin glistening with the remains of you, looking drunk on the taste. He really was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

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22ayla21 · 3 months ago

Note

Reader breaking up with Mydei when she hears his people criticizing her and saying she doesn’t suit their prince, believing that she’ll drag him down and that she could cause a rift between him and his people who refuse to accept her,

Mydei however refuses to accept that as a reason for breaking up and tells her he refuses to let her go.

The Unbreakable Vow

She left to protect him and not sever the connection with his people, but he won't let her go so easily.

She left without a word.

She left only an icy emptiness in the rooms where her voice had rung out just yesterday, where her laughter, warm and vibrant, seemed to have seeped into the walls forever.

Mydei felt it immediately. Something inside him snapped, not just disappeared, but was torn out by the roots, leaving a ragged, bleeding wound.

He searched for her.

Anger, hot and blind, flared in his chest with every step. Not at her—he knew she wouldn't leave him just like that. It wasn't in her nature. She held onto him as tightly as he held onto her.

And when he found her, standing on the edge of the observation deck, where the wind whipped her hair, he understood—she was waiting for him.

"Why?"

His voice was quiet, but a storm raged within it. She didn't answer right away. She just looked into the distance, avoiding his gaze, as if trying to read an excuse for her actions in the gray haze.

"I heard them."

She spoke calmly, but he saw her shoulders tremble.

"They say I'm dragging you down. That I'm not your equal. That I'm a weak link, capable of ruining your life."

Her hands clenched into fists.

"And they're right, Mydei. I'm not like them. I'll never be able to become like them. They won't accept me, and one day you'll have to choose between me and them. I don't want you to be torn apart."

She waited for his silence. Waited for him to turn away and leave. To accept her decision, no matter how bitter it was.

But he stepped forward.

"Do you really think that of me?"

She turned sharply, and her gaze met his eyes, full of fury and... pain.

"Do you think I'll let some cowardly gossip decide who I love?"

His voice was low, almost bestial.

"Do you think I'll let them dictate who is worthy to be by my side?"

He stepped closer, and she felt his palms grip her shoulders—firmly, but not roughly, as if he feared she would melt into the air.

"If they don't accept you, then they'll leave, not you. If they don't see that you're my strength, not my weakness, then they were never my friends."

She froze, and he continued:

"You left because you thought you were protecting me. But you didn't even ask what I want."

His gaze held so much firmness, so much unwavering certainty, that her heart faltered.

"I want you."

These words sounded like a vow.

"You are mine. And I don't care what others say."

She felt a lump rise in her throat, tears clouding her eyes.

"I love you," he said, and there wasn't a shadow of doubt in his confession.

And then she understood: there was no force capable of breaking the thread that bound their hearts. Because Mydei would never allow it to happen.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #mydei x reader #hsr mydei #mydei #mydeimos

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justagalwhowrites · 3 months ago

Text

The Savage and the Sanctuary: Ch. 9 - Starlight

You officially become Starlight and Joel reckons with your life in the spotlight. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 8 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Canon-typical violence; panic attack/PTSD response; attempted kidnapping. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 12k

“You sure this is a good idea?” Joel asked, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight as he watched you from across the small room.

“Joel,” you looked at him, almost amused, from your spot on the couch. “What do you think they’re going to do? Delay the casting announcement that’s been planned for months for a movie with a $210 million price tag because I want a personal day?”

“You’re the fuckin’ star,” he said. “So… yeah.”

You pressed your lips together, stifling a laugh.

“It really doesn’t work that way,” you said. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel grumbled, turning to the craft services table that had been set up in your green room. “Maybe it should.”

He got a plate and piled it with a small sandwich, slices of cucumber, baby carrots and celery before spooning hummus onto it and grabbing a can of Diet Coke, which made you frown. You’d never once seen him drink Diet Coke.

But he didn’t go to drink it himself. Instead, he closed the short distance between you, handing you the plate before opening the soda and setting the can down almost forcefully on the table beside you.

You frowned, looking up at him, brows raised.

“You’re not puttin’ on that damn suit,” he said, nodding to the plate. “And I was awake before you, I know you ain’t eaten anything today.”

You resisted the urge to smile but felt your lips tugging up at the edges all the same.

“You like me,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “Look at you, getting invested.”

“Just been around you too much,” he muttered but he smiled ever so slightly, too. “Bound to stick eventually.”

You let yourself smile fully then, taking a bite of the sandwich as Joel shook his head, clearly trying to not look happy about anything at all.

Something had changed in your relationship with Joel the day before. You could almost feel it happen, the shock of connection and understanding when you’d asked him to break into Henry’s office and he’d just done it. He didn’t question it, he didn’t even hesitate, he just busted the man’s door down and protected you in the aftermath. The way he’d touched you in the elevator, the way he still looked at you like you were a person after you told him about the shit you were most ashamed of, it felt like he cared about you. Not the strange version of yourself you made for the world but the real you and it was the first time it seemed like someone who wasn’t Justice or Elise or Ellie or Anna had done that in so, so long. What’s more, he made you feel like you were worth caring about. Like there was something inside you, something about you, that was worth the effort. That feeling made your heart beat faster and your head get light and you knew that was stupid, that you should avoid feeling like that about your bodyguard as much as you could but you couldn’t resist it. It felt too good, caring about him and knowing that he cared about you, too.

He had gotten up before you that morning. You found him in the kitchen when you forced yourself to get up, skipping your usual morning workout because - although you’d slept well and hadn’t shot anything the day before and it had been a short day - you were exhausted. It was a sort of tired that had settled heavily into your body, weighing down your limbs and fogging your mind. You more trudged through the house than walked, not able to fully pick your feet up. But you were surprised to find coffee ready made and waiting for you when you got to the kitchen, Joel sitting at the breakfast bar with a mug in front of him.

“Morning,” he said, watching you.

You froze, blinking at him for a second.

“Morning,” you said back, your tongue thick in your mouth.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, looking you up and down but not in the way so many men did, not like he wanted to break you down and consume you.

You shrugged.

“Fine,” you said before pulling your gaze from him and going to pour yourself a cup of coffee. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just…” he paused. “Seemed like you might not be. After… you know.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what to say to that. You took a sip of coffee. “Well… I still have a convention to get to.”

“That a good idea?” He asked, frowning, watching you.

You watched him back for a moment, something so unsettlingly honest about how he was looking at you.

“Maybe not,” you said after a moment. “But you gotta do what you gotta do, right?”

He kept watching you, like he thought you might take it back and maybe that was because you wanted to, his jaw clenched, before he sighed.

“Shit goes sideways, we leave,” he said. “And I don’t just mean some jackass tries to break your arm again, I mean if you have a panic attack or that… that fuckin’ asshole shows up, we go. We clear?”

“You can’t just try to whisk me away from all my problems,” you said, smiling a little sadly.

“I know,” he said, open and almost vulnerable. “I know you can handle yourself and lord knows you know this world a hell of a lot better than I do. But I’m trying to keep you safe. You said you’d let me keep you safe. You gonna let me?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Yeah, I’ll let you.”

He’d stuck close to you all day. You heard him pacing the hall outside your room as you put on the outfit that Frank had selected for you. He took a break to let your hair and makeup artist, Caroline, in but he took back up pacing not long after.

“He’s an anxious one, isn't he?” She said as she blended your eyeshadow. “That’s a change from the last guy, right?”

“He’s the same one I had last time,” you said.

“Really?” She said, stepping back enough that you opened your eyes to look at her and you looked at her, incredulous. “Well shit, never would have guessed.”

He was waiting there outside your door in a pair of dark jeans and a button down and you gasped in mock surprise.

“Look at you!” You swatted him playfully on the arm. “You got dressed up!”

He rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Before you find some new way to drive me insane.”

“It’d be a short trip,” you smirked before leading the way to the car, Joel close enough that he kept his hand on the small of your back the whole way.

He was tense as they slipped you into the convention hall, bringing you in a side door under a tent that enveloped everything, protecting the secret of your identity for another few hours.

“You know you can’t come on stage with me, right?” you said, smiling a little but trying to hide it as you ate one of the carrots Joel had put on your plate.

“Oh I’m well aware,” he muttered. “You know, I keep waitin’ for these producers and managers and… other assholes to figure out that you’re not just some profit center but you’d think they’d have realized by now that they can’t make money off you if you’re hurt or dead. Can make fuckin’ movies but can’t manage to understand basic shit…”

There was a knock at your door and Joel clenched his jaw before going to answer it. Quinn didn’t wait for him to fully step aside, pushing past him and looking a little frazzled.

“We ready?” She asked, looking you up and down before narrowing her eyes at you. “Are you eating? And drinking from a can without a straw? You’re wearing lipstick! Jesus Christ…”

She started looking around, as though she might find some stray tube of lip color lying around but you just laughed a little, dabbing your mouth with your napkin and going into the small bag you’d brought with you to touch up your lipstick.

“There,” you said, putting the tube away again. “See? No harm, no foul.”

“And now she won’t pass out on stage,” Joel muttered. “Let’s go, sooner they trot you out like some show pony the sooner we can get you back home.”

You just shook your head and smiled a little, following behind Quinn, a small army of assistants waiting outside your door and Joel staying so close to you that you could could feel the heat of his body alongside yours all the way to the stage.

Cole met you there, waiting in the wings, and you greeted him with a hug.

“You ready for this?” You asked quietly. “Because our lives are about to change.”

“Think mine more than yours,” he smiled, a little sheepishly. “Everyone already knows your name. This is the first time I’m doing something this big. Feels a little like I’m about to… I don’t fucking know, go BASE jumping or something.”

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath. “As long as you’ve got a good parachute.”

You looked toward Joel in spite of yourself, his jaw clenched as his eyes raked again and again over the surrounding area. You leaned closer to him.

“And of course where would we be without a man worthy of our hero?” The emcee said. You looked at Cole and he looked back before taking a deep breath. “Introducing your Devin Hancock - Cole Cox!”

Cole ran out on stage, his arms above his head and you watched him soak up the applause, waving out at the audience that you couldn’t see beyond the stage lights.

“Finally,” the emcee said as the crowd quieted down. “The moment we’ve all been waiting for, the one I’ve been most excited for. Are you ready to meet our intergalactic heroine? The one, the only, Starlight?”

The screams were deafening and the lights cut out, replaced by the glow of the massive screen behind the stage. You had to crane your neck to see it from where you stood but it was what you’d shot a few days earlier, the slow pans down your body, keeping your face hidden, the frantic fight sequences that kept your identity just out of sight and then a bright, blue-tinged glow before a close up of you, smirking confidently in your suit and hair and makeup, took over the screen, Starlight in an arch over your head, your name written below as the emcee announced you, the roar of screaming and cheering drowning him out almost entirely.

You ran out to join him on stage, hands up over your head and waving to the convention hall packed with people.

It took what felt like a small eternity for things to quiet down enough for you to even talk, the emcee giving you a mic and you just standing there with it as you waved for long enough that you started to get tired of holding your unoccupied hand so far over your head.

“Thank you all for that very warm welcome!” You laughed when things got quiet eventually. “I really could not be happier to join the Galactic Comics Cinematic Universe.”

You took your seat next to Cole, demurely crossing one ankle over the other (even though you were in jeans) and nodding as you listened to the director talk about the movie and the lengths they went through to keep your identity under wraps. The emcee threw a few softball questions your way and you gave the other people on stage a chance to shine before the audience questions began because you knew most of their questions would be directed at you.

You were right, the first question out of the gate was directed at you.

“Huge fan,” the guy asking it said, smiling sheepishly at you. “But I don’t think I’d ever see you in something like this. Why’d you decide to play this role?”

“Well,” you smiled back at him and you saw the blush rise in his cheeks. “I’ve always been drawn to stories about powerful women, I’ve always liked telling those stories and exploring the lives of those women and what better way to do it than tell the story of a superhero, right? Especially one who starts out as a doctor. And…”

You took a deep breath. You’d debated about including this or not but, fuck it, if the world knew about Ellie anyway, why not?

“And as some of you might know, I’m in the process of adopting my niece and Savage Starlight is her favorite comic. When I found out about the opportunity to be her favorite hero, I jumped at that. She didn’t know about this in advance, by the way, so she’s finding out about this role at the same time you all are by watching the live stream at home - hi Ellie!” You waved to the camera that was broadcasting live online. “I hope you’re behaving for your grandma, I really don’t want one of the first things I do as Dr. Daniela Star to be ground you.”

The audience laughed and you smiled at that, this strange warmth settling inside you as the next person came up to the mic and you found yourself looking over at Joel, a little smile on his face as he watched you in return. You’d never shared something like that about yourself to press or at an event. You weren’t sure why, but for some reason, you felt comfortable being more yourself, offering that small vulnerability and piece of humanity up to these strangers.

Time passed quickly there on stage and, before too long, you were making your way off stage, happy that you weren’t miked anymore and you felt like you could breathe a little.

“That was surreal,” Cole said, nearly yelling in your ear to be heard over the crowd, staying close to you as the two of you headed off stage, Joel watching from the wings, his eyes sweeping the stage as you did.

“But cool!” You said back, smiling at him before turning a little to wave one last time at the crowd.

You were so distracted by the crowd and the noise and blinded by the stage lights, you almost didn’t see Joel running for you.

***

It happened so fast, he almost fucking missed it.

You were almost off stage - almost next to him again - and he had almost relaxed. You were close and you were so beautiful and looked so happy and it was easy to just look at you, the temptation to just watch you instead of looking anywhere else so easy to fall into.

But then he saw it, someone shoving off event security and scrambling onto the stage. He barely noticed it, the person almost entirely blocked from his view by you and your costar.

He moved quickly then, event security chasing after the man as he went for you. You noticed him half a second before he reached you, your smile dropping and your eyes going wide.

“Move!” Joel grabbed you, tucking your head down and putting his body between you and the person who was inches away from being tackled by security. He rushed you off stage all the same, not about to trust security to suddenly do their jobs properly.

He got you off stage quickly, casting a glance back over his shoulder to see two security guards take the man down. Joel kept moving with you, rushing you through the maze of back stage and back to your green room. He slammed the door shut and released you, taking your face in his hands and looking you up and down.

“You OK?” He asked, breathless.

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, your hands covering his, your fingers soft and soothing against his own. “I’m OK, it’s OK.”

“Fuck,” he said, pulling you against him before he thought better of it, clutching onto you and focusing on the feeling of your chest rising and falling as he held you close. Your arms slowly, cautiously went around him, too, your hold gentler than his own except for your fingers which knotted in his shirt and pressed into his back. His heartbeat finally slowed, your body a comfort against his own, and his grip on you eased. You pulled back from him but didn’t go far, still in his arms, still close enough that he could feel when you breathed. You looked at him, your eyes wide, lips parted and, for half a moment, he thought you might kiss him and he wanted you to. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t kiss you, he wanted to. The fact that you were his charge, that you were so far above him you weren’t even in the same galaxy let alone the same league, that he was in no position to let anyone close to him at all didn’t matter. All that mattered was your lips and skin and the way you felt against him.

Your eyes traced over his face then stilled at his temple and you frowned, reaching your hand up, delicately tracing the scar there with one finger, your touch so gentle it was more like a ghost than anything corporeal.

“Joel,” you whispered, your palm finding his cheek but your finger lingering on the scar. His heart stuttered.

The sharp knock on the green room door made you jump and he pulled you closer for a moment before maneuvering you behind him.

“It’s me!” Quinn called through the door. “Let me in!”

“Stay put,” Joel said sharply, going for the door and only opening it a crack, confirming it was just Quinn there before opening it just enough to let her in and then locking it again.

Your manager rushed over to you, looking you up and down before taking you by the shoulders.

“You’re OK?” She asked quickly.

“I’m fine,” you said, smiling a little at her. “It wasn’t a big deal, really.”

Joel stalked over, trying to put himself between you and Quinn as best he could without physically moving her. He’d never put hands on a woman, he didn’t want to start now.

“When are you people gonna learn that this shit is a risk?” He growled, letting himself tower over Quinn. “That it’s not fuckin’ worth it? That you’re gonna get her hurt or worse because someone else needs something more from her?”

“Joel,” you quietly, your hand curling around his bicep, but he shrugged you off.

“She is not some goddamn toy!” Joel snapped. “So stop parading her around like some fuckin’ Barbie before someone does more than break her fucking arm!”

“She’s my client!” Quinn snapped back. “And my friend and I’ve been looking out for her a hell of a lot longer than you have so if you think for one second that she matters more to you than she does to me…”

“She is right here, in case either of you were wondering,” you said, voice sharp.

Joel and Quinn both turned to face you and, beyond your eyes being wider than he was used to seeing, you looked like yourself. Your jaw was set firm, your back straight, daring either of them to push you.

“Last time I checked, I’m a grown woman who is perfectly capable of making her own choices,” you said, looking between the two of them. “Joel, I’m fine. Nothing happened. Security took down… whoever that was and you protected me. The system worked. Quinn, cut Joel some slack. He’s still new to this industry, he doesn’t understand how shit works here and… he’s right. Events are a risk. They’re just also necessary.”

Joel clenched his jaw, tightened his fist. He wasn’t going to win this fight, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

“There is a piece of good news,” Quinn sighed, changing the subject. “The guy who rushed the stage was looking to talk to the director, some super fan. Had his last movie on BluRay in his bag, looks like he’s a film student at UCLA.”

“Jesus,” Joel pinched the bridge of his nose. “People can’t just be fuckin’ normal about this shit? Have to be rushing the goddamn stage, camping out at premieres…”

“People care,” Quinn said, a little edge in her tone. “It might be a little intense but…”

“Yeah,” Joel cut her off. “That’s the problem, ain’t it.”

Joel got you out of there without any further incident, bypassing the crowds of people clamoring for a piece of you outside and instead ushering you back out the way you came, straight into the back of the heavily tinted SUV. He sat in back with you, not willing to even be as far away as the front seat would force him to be.

It took until the two of you were well on the way back at your house for him to really calm down, the tension in his chest easing, finally able to relax his clenched fists.

“Can I ask you something?” You said quietly.

He looked over at you, your eyes soft and open and you were twisted in the seat so you were facing him as much as you could be while still being buckled in. He didn’t say anything but you pressed on.

“How…” you paused, like you were trying to figure out how to phrase your question. “How long have you protected someone?”

He flexed his hand.

“Few weeks,” he said. “Usually just a few days.”

You nodded slowly.

“Why.”

“Did you usually get along with the people you protected?” You asked, ignoring him.

He laughed once, derisively.

“No,” he said. “No, they’re just rich assholes. Usually CEOs in town for meetings or some shit. Protected this one model once who was a nice enough girl. You might know her… Rosie something think her name was. Don’t really remember. Otherwise, mostly just jackasses. Why.”

“You’ve never worked a job like this one, have you?” You asked, your head cocked ever so slightly to the side, your exacting gaze seeing past seemingly everything he had to protect that dying thing inside himself. “Where you might actually give a shit about whether or not the person you’re protecting lives for anything outside the professional, I mean.”

“No,” he said again after a moment. “No. I haven’t.”

You nodded again.

“I’m sorry it’s working out like this,” you said quietly. “I’m not trying to make life difficult. You probably think I’m full of shit but I’m really not…”

“I know,” he cut you off. “You’ve given me plenty of grief, Siren, but I know that’s not what this is.”

“I’ll…” you took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll do my best to make sure it’s professional. It’s weird for me, too, being around someone this much and not… I’ll try to do better.”

He wanted to tell you not to worry about it. Please don’t stay away from me, he wanted to say. Please just be where I can see you and touch you and know that you’re breathing, please stay close to me, please don’t leave me alone in this.

“S’OK,” he said instead. “It’s… it’ll be OK.”

You smiled at him ever so slightly, something sad in your eyes when you did and he resisted the urge to touch you the rest of the way home.

***

Being rushed off stage after your big announcement put a bit of a damper on the celebration outside your house but inside, you still got to bask in the excitement a little. Ellie had called you freaking out while you were still on stage and you FaceTimed her as soon as you were back home.

“Are you kidding me, Sissy?” She gaped at you. “You’re seriously fucking Starlight? THAT’S what you’ve been working on?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, trying to keep from laughing, too happy that she was happy to scold her for her language. “Think I can pull it off?”

“Hell yeah!” She said, beaming. “This is the coolest fucking thing! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Not everything was that easy, though. You did your best to avoid Joel over the next few days as much as you could. You trained and did fight choreography, Joel sitting up front in the car while you sat in the back, and you kept to your office and bedroom as much as possible when you were at home. Not that Joel spent much time in the common areas of the house, anyway, but it seemed that when you did encounter each other there, there was a strange intimacy to it that didn’t exist in other spaces. It was safest to avoid it.

Even though it’s not that you wanted to avoid Joel. Far from it. The way he’d held you after the incident at the convention had touched you in a way no one else had. He’d clung to you like you were a lifeline, as though you mattered to him. And it wasn’t because you were rich, it wasn’t because you were beautiful and he wanted to own you, it wasn’t even because he fawned over your fame or power or skill. It felt like he did it just because you existed. Like that was all that as required of you when it came to him, like as long as you just continued to breathe you would matter to him. No one else had ever done that for you, not in the way he did, and now that you had a taste of it you craved it. You wanted to matter to him, you wanted him to see something in you that was worthy because there was something about him that was so real and so vital, something in him that made the way he saw the world so much more important than the way anyone else did.

Which is why you needed to give him space. You couldn’t let yourself do this. You couldn’t let yourself fall into the feelings you had for this man that were threatening to swallow you up, it would only get you hurt. Space was smart.

But, Tuesday, you didn’t have a choice. The premiere was Wednesday and you had to figure out what you and Joel were wearing, the entire day blocked off to spend at Frank’s studio to review the different looks he’d selected for you and Joel both. That meant a day together, whether either of you liked it or not.

And you might have liked it. More than you should.

“I can’t believe I get to dress that sexy, grumpy body guard of yours,” Frank said as you stood in your underwear looking at gown options, Joel waiting safely on the other side of the door. “I’d say it’s a dream except for the fact that he is one big man and no one knows who the hell he is so it’s not like I can name drop to get off-size samples. Selection’s going to be limited, I’m afraid.”

“I think he’ll live,” you said, reaching out and touching the skirt of one of the gowns, running your thumb over the sumptuous fabric. “I’m still surprised he went along with the date scheme, honestly.”

“I’m not,” Frank scoffed. “You two fucked yet?”

“Frank!” You gawked at him and swatted him.

“What!” He said, indignant. “I know chemistry when I see it, honey, and you two have chemistry.”

“He’s still not interested in fucking me,” you said, your stomach clenching at that thought even though you shouldn’t care.

“Yes he is,” Frank rolled his eyes. You raised your eyebrows at him and he waved you off. “For someone as stunning as you are, you sure are good at missing when someone wants to get you into bed. Maybe you’re just used to it because you’re you but that man would cut off a limb for a night in bed with you, mark my words.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious,” Frank said, his tone shifting. “And none of that’s unusual for you but I’ll tell you what is unusual for you: you want him back.”

“Don’t start,” you said, pointing at him sternly.

“I’m not starting anything,” he said, his hands up in surrender. “I’m just pointing some shit out. It’s been a long time since you were in a real relationship…”

“I’ve been kinda busy the last year or two,” you said, defensive.

“And you could use someone,” he continued like you hadn’t spoken at all. “And there are worse choices than the tall drink of water that’s sitting out there. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He works for me,” you said. “It’s not happening.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, turning his attention back to the gowns. “Want to know my favorite or do you want to go in blind?”

“That one’s your favorite,” you said, pointing to a fully beaded gown that looked like it would fit you like a glove. “Don’t think I don’t know you.”

He laughed and gave your arm a squeeze.

“To be loved is to be known,” he said. “Or something like that.”

You smiled a little.

“So they say,” you said. “Let’s try them on and figure out what we need to do to get me down that carpet.”

Frank had an eye. You tried on all the gowns but none of them held a candle to the one you’d eyeballed as his immediately.

“I know you get this all the time,” Frank said, standing back from you and looking you up and down after he’d pinned the places he’d need to make temporary alterations to make sure the gown fit you just right. “But I think you might be the most beautiful woman on Earth.”

“Only when you dress me,” you smiled but admired yourself in the mirror all the same.

“Alright,” he said, stepping onto the small platform to help you out of your gown. “Let’s get you out of this and figure out what we’re squeezing that giant man into.”

You laughed but let Frank undress you before getting back into the sweats you’d come to the studio in, your stylist going to grab Joel who looked none too happy about needing to get dressed up.

“Dunno why it fuckin’ matters what I wear,” Joel muttered as Frank took his measurements. “No one’s gonna be looking at me anyway.”

“We need to make sure you’re not drawing attention,” Frank said absently as he noted a measurement. “You show up in jeans to an event like this, people look at you funny. Unless you’re Adam Sandler but that’s another story…”

He straightened and looked at the numbers, draping the tape measure around his neck and comparing them to another sheet on his clip board and nodding to himself.

“Well, I’ve got good news,” he said idly. “I wasn’t too far off on your sizes and I pulled a few options for you, we don’t need to send you to Men’s Wearhouse. Or wherever it is we’d have to look to find something to fit those shoulder of yours…”

Joel glared at him but Frank didn’t seem to notice, just going to grab the suits as Joel stood awkwardly on the platform, trying to look anywhere but at the mirrors that surrounded him.

“You’ll never break Frank by being grumpy,” you said, smiling a little as you propped your head on your fist, one leg crossed over the other from your seat in the corner.

“Why’s that,” Joel said more than asked, barely glancing your way.

“His husband, Bill, would give you a run for your money on the grumpy asshole front,” you said. “He’s reigning world champ, you’d like him.”

“Jesus,” Joel muttered but you saw his lips tug up ever so slightly. You smiled.

“Don’t worry, Big Miller,” you teased. “You’re in good hands for your red carpet debut.”

Frank had undersold his options, Joel looking damn good in every outfit he put him in but, eventually, they settled on an all black suit that fit him almost perfectly - just needing to be let out a little at the cuffs of the coat and the hem of the pants - with a black shirt he was going to wear without a tie, open enough that you could see a bit of the golden tan expanse of his chest that made your mouth water when you looked at him too long.

“This is too much,” Joel grumbled. “Can’t I just wear… I dunno…”

“No, you can’t,” Frank cut him off. “Move your arms for me, up over your head.” Joel just looked at him, brows raised. “I’m assuming you want good range of motion to protect our newest superhero over there, right? So do what I say.” Joel rolled his eyes but obeyed. “Good boy,” Frank said and you coughed to cover your laugh.

He pinned Joel, too, and, eventually, the two of you were finished up, Frank and his team needing to get to work to finalize alterations and the rest of your outfits.

“See you both tomorrow morning at the hotel,” Frank said. “Expect you both to get a good night’s sleep, you’d better not let bags under your eyes ruin this for me, understand?”

“Yes sir,” you said, kissing both his cheeks. “And I’ll be sure to tell Bill about all the fun you had today…”

“Don’t start young lady,” Frank said, turning to Joel. “Keep her in line or I’ll put you in something hideous.”

He didn’t give your body guard a chance to respond. Instead, he just headed back into his studio and you tried not to laugh.

“You just like to torture everyone you work with don’t you,” Joel said, a teasing edge to his voice.

“I need to have fun somehow,” you said, letting Joel lead the way to the car that was waiting just outside the door. He put his hand on your back and you tried to ignore the way your heart raced when he did. “You looked really good, by the way.”

He frowned at you.

“In the suit, I mean,” you said. “You’re going to look good tomorrow.”

“Right,” he said, opening the door for you.You got in the back of the car and were surprised when he got in the back seat next to you. “Uh… thanks.”

You smiled a little as you buckled in. Frank might be wrong about Joel wanting to sleep with you but you could at least take some comfort in knowing that you could still throw him off a little. And as long as you could get through the premiere without caving to that growing, gnawing urge to touch him, kiss him, feel him, everything would be OK.

The two of you got up early the next day to head to a hotel near the premiere to get ready, Joel sitting next to you again with a sour look on his face the entire trip.

“So what’s got your boxer briefs in a twist today?” You teased after a while, not able to resist it.

“Don’t understand why we gotta be in an unknown space for this,” he grumbled. “Your house was fine for the last premiere, stupid to add another variable into this situation.”

“Because the last premiere was more low-key,” you shrugged. “This one starts later in the day and there’s a party after, we’re not going to want to deal with getting all the way back to my house that late. Trust me, having the closer space will be a blessing when push comes to shove. Think of it this way, you’ve got a safe place to whisk me off to when you get paranoid.”

He gave you a look and you stifled a giggle.

“Don’t think it’s paranoid if I’ve had to do more than just look after you the last few times you’ve been out in public here,” he muttered. “Should have said you couldn’t do this, not even your damn movie…”

“Well we extra need the media push now because I couldn’t do any press after the con,” you said. “And I know they got this premiere more locked down…”

He clenched his jaw and shook his head and, before you could stop yourself, you reached for the hand that rested on the seat between you, covering his thick fingers with your own. He looked there, still for a moment, before slowly, gently, turning his hand so he could hold yours. Your heart fluttered.

“It’ll be OK, Joel,” you smiled softly. “It will.”

They’d put you in a two bedroom suite with a living space in the middle, Quinn’s assistant getting the space set up with a variety of snacks and drinks and coming up with your favorite coffee as you settled into the larger bedroom to get ready.

The team of stylists showed up not long after you and you went through all the motions of getting ready for a big event - the nails and the hair and the putting on the gown that had to weigh at least 10 pounds and you were happy for the structure of the bodice so the weight of it wasn’t entirely landing on your shoulders.

“How’s Joel doing?” You asked Frank, sipping a Diet Coke through a straw as Caroline, your hair stylist, put the finishing touches on.

“Looking way better than he has any right to,” Frank replied, getting a necklace with a sizable blue gemstone - the same shade of blue the powers Starlight had glowed with in the comics - and put it around your neck. “It’s not fair, someone looking that good when they don’t give a shit about it.”

You laughed a little.

“Good thing you’re there to bring out the best in the guy,” you teased, giving a lock of his hair a little tug and he gave you a look, smiling a bit as he did.

“Well, I’ll take solace in the fact that he’s walking the carpet with you,” he said, offering you his hand to help you out of your chair. You took it and he adjusted your gown before walking around you in a slow, discerning circle. “He’ll pale in comparison.”

“Thanks to you,” you said as he held out his hand for you drink and you surrendered it.

“Alright,” he said, waving the makeup artist over. “Lip color, then we go.”

She painted it on and then Frank gave a nod.

“You’re ready,” he said. “Let’s get you there, be sure to watch the back of the dress when you’re getting in and out, it might snag on your heels…”

“I do know how to wear a gown,” you said, following him.

“If you saw how some of these things came back to me at the end of the night from other people, you’d know why I bother to say it,” he replied, opening the door to the living area and Joel stood up from the couch, moving for you for a moment before he stopped in his tracks, staring at you.

“What?” You asked after he’d stood stock still for what felt like too long.

“Nothin’,” he shook his head once. “You… you look nice.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, looking at him, trying to ignore the tug at the base of your chest you felt when you saw him there, the suit fitting him like it’d been made for him, the bare skin of his chest almost too intimate to look at even though you knew the entire planet would see him like this in just a few minutes. “Not too bad yourself.”

“I’m going to try to not be personally offended by the fact that you just said she looked ‘nice,’” Frank said, giving you a peck on the cheek. “You look beautiful, honey. Have fun, don’t work too hard. I’ll come by tomorrow to pick up the dress and jewelry.”

You watched Frank go before turning to Joel.

“Ready to run the gauntlet?” You asked.

“Guess so,” he sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Don’t sound so happy about it,” you teased as you made your way for the door. “You know there are men who would kill to be in your shoes right now.”

“I know,” Joel said. “That’s who I’m worried about.”

You gave him a brief run down of how to handle himself on the carpet on the short ride over. Let you do the talking, when people asked about your relationship just say that you’re friends, try to keep your face at least neutral if not smiling as much as possible.

“There are going to be a lot of people coming up to me,” you said. “If they’re in formalwear, don’t worry about it. Actors are physical folk, there’s going to be a lot of hugging and kissing, please don’t snap anybody’s arm because they decided to touch me.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, clearly tense.

“And you’ll probably need to touch me, too, now that I think about it,” you said as the car pulled up toward the carpet. He almost jumped at that and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You know, just in a friendly way. For pictures and as we’re moving down the carpet. If we don’t hold hands and that sort of thing at some point, it’ll look strange.”

“OK,” he said, sounding hesitant.

“I won’t read into it,” you smiled a little. “Promise.”

Joel adjusted, stiff in his seat, and the cuff of his jacket slid up his arm, just enough to reveal his watch. But it wasn’t the one you’d been expecting. Instead, it was the one you’d given him, the one you’d thought he’d certainly have pawned or destroyed or… something by now.

Your shock must have shown on your face because Joel frowned.

“What,” he said, looking at you.

“You’re wearing the watch,” you said quietly. “You kept it.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down at his wrist and clearing his throat awkwardly. “Yeah. I… It’s nice. Thought this was the place to wear it.”

The car came to a stop at the carpet and a man in a headset with a clipboard opened the door, smiling.

“Welcome!” He said, offering you his hand. “We’re just about ready for you on the carpet.”

You took his hand and stepped out of the car, a roar going up from the roped off area for fans as you did. You smiled broadly, raising your arm to wave at them as Joel came up behind you. You sensed him there more than saw him, something about the strength and security of his presence making you hyperaware of where he was in relation to you.

“This what it’s always like for you?” He asked, putting his hand in the middle of your back, at the skin that was bared just over the top of the gown. You resisted the urge to lean back into his touch. “Everyone looking at you all the time?”

“Just figured that one out, eh?” You smirked a little and lifted the hem of your dress enough that you could walk unimpeded. “C’mon, Big Miller. Time to get to work.”

You led the way down the red carpet, signing a few autographs with Joel’s hand firmly at your waist as he watched everything all around you. You’d just cleared the fan area and were starting toward the press when there was an excited shriek that made Joel stiffen but you smiled as Chloe, a friend from early in your film career who had been in this franchise for years, came running over.

“Oh my God, it’s so good to see you!” She squealed, hugging you and you kissed her cheek as she kissed yours. “Welcome to the family, baby!”

“Thank you!” You laughed, giving her arm a squeeze. “I’m in for a few movies so I’m sure we’ll be in one together.”

“Fuck, I hope so,” she said. “I should have held out until they started giving women the leads in this shit. I’m a glorified sidekick and the team is all guys. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but damn the set needs some estrogen.”

“Chloe!” Someone yelled for her from further up the carpet.

“One sec!” She yelled back before turning back to you. “Ugh, back to the office, I guess. See you at the afterparty? You can tell me about whoever this is?”

She looked Joel up and down, a suggestive look on her face.

“OK go take photos with your husband,” you shoved her playfully and she laughed, giving you a wink before obeying.

You took Joel’s hand, the movement feeling oddly familiar and natural as you laced your fingers with his and led him to the row of photographers waiting for you.

“Now act like you like me,” you smiled at Joel, guiding his hand around your waist as you posed beside him, angling your body for the different cameras. He was stiff against you, like he was trying to hold himself away from you as much as he could and you tried to not let that sting.

“Some of just you, beautiful!” A photographer yelled and you laughed and gave Joel a squeeze before stepping away, posing so they could capture you from the front, back, side. It was second nature to you now, how to best position your body to make it as appealing as possible, always holding yourself in a way that wasn’t necessarily comfortable but made people want you. That was your job, be the object of desire, and you tried not to think too hard about that fact when you caught a glimpse of Joel’s face as he watched you smile coyly over your shoulder for photographers.

You took his hand again as you made your way to interviews, stopping to talk to reporters and say over and over again just how excited you were to play Starlight.

“How many more of these you got?” Joel asked, his lips at your ear and his body so close to yours you couldn’t help but be aware of every inch of him. You shook yourself mentally and looked down the row of waiting reporters.

“I think three more outlets,” you said, pulling away from him just enough to look him in the eye. “Why, getting antsy there, Big Miller?”

“Don’t know how you do this all the time,” he muttered. “Shit is exhausting. And I’m not even the one doing the talkin’.”

You laughed a little and led him down the line, stopping at the next reporter, one you’d talked to a few times before and had always liked.

“Oh hi!” You hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks when she greeted you. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in a while! Did you have your baby?”

“I did!” She smiled. “About five months ago.”

“Congratulations! Tell me about her!” You said. “They’re a girl, right? Can I see pictures?”

She smiled and showed you pictures of her baby, a tiny thing with chubby cheeks and soft, dark curls and you fawned over her.

“It’s actually very convenient that you made me get my phone out,” she said after a minute. “Because I wanted to get some reactions to tweets that fans have posted about you. Just a fun little game to mix it up a little.”

“Oh alright,” you smiled conspiratorially. “Lay it on me, mama.”

“I’ll give you the phone so you can see the tweet,” she said, pulling it up. “You read it and tell us your thoughts!”

She passed you her phone, a screenshot of a tweet pulled up.

“Alright,” you said, laughing a little as you read it. “This one says ‘Now that we know who Starlight is, I’m going to need her step on me while blowing some bad guy away.’ Well… TitsMcGee23 - great handle, by the way - that sounds structurally unstable but if I ever need a riser on set, I will slide into your DMs.”

The reporter laughed and you handed her the phone back. She pulled up the next one and returned it.

“Oh, this is… something,” you laughed. “‘Dear Starlight: Choke me, Mommy.’ Well, I sure hope I’m not old enough to be your mother if you’re posting that and I don’t think choking is really my thing but you know what? I could be convinced, you sound fun.”

She had a few more tweets like that to read and you played along before moving on to the next reporter, who asked who you were wearing and then honed in on Joel.

“And who is this gentleman?” She said, looking Joel up and down. “Is he someone we should be watching out for in your next film?”

You looked over your shoulder to Joel whose eyes had gone wide in panic

“Um,” he said, looking quickly to you and you stifled a laugh.

“This is my friend,” you said, looping your arm around his back, hoping it came off as familiar and friendly. “He was kind enough to make sure I had someone to lean on while walking the carpet in these heels!”

You stuck your leg out through the thigh high slit in your gown, turning your ankle and showing off the stilettos Frank had put you in.

“Just a friend though?” The reporter asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “No new romance for Hollywood’s hottest bachelorette?”

“Afraid not,” you scrunched your nose. “For now I’m flying solo and spending as much time as I can with my niece. But if that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

You made your way inside and settled in with Joel at the back of the theater so the stars of this movie could comfortably take center stage, him shifting uncomfortably in his seat and adjusting his suit.

“Doing OK there Big Miller?” You teased.

“That was fuckin’ surreal,” he muttered. “That’s really what it’s like for you all the time? Strangers asking about your personal life and making you read what people post about you online and wanting you to tell them the same thing over and over?”

“Pretty much,” you laughed a little. “I keep telling people that being a movie star is not all it’s cracked up to be but no one believes me.”

“Jesus,” Joel muttered.

“It has its perks though,” you smiled, nodding to the screen as the director got up to introduce the film. “Get to see the biggest movies early. And, you know, there’s the whole getting to make art for a living and do what I really love.”

Joel looked at you for a moment, considering you as the lights dimmed.

“You really do love it don’t you,” he said. “The acting part.”

“Yeah,” you smiled a little. “I do.”

When the movie ended, you and Joel went to a lounge the studio had rented out for the afterparty, the whole place decked out with Scarlet Sentinel colors and logos, music thumping in the background and servers roaming with trays of hors d'oeuvres and themed cocktails.

“We gotta go over the rules?” He asked, keeping you at his side near the door.

“I can go wherever I want whenever I want and definitely be out of your line of sight at all times?” You asked brows raised. He glared and you laughed. “I’m not going to try and ditch you, don’t worry. I’ll stay nice and close.”

“Gotta figure out how to make you behave like this all the time,” he muttered and the two of you worked your way into the party.

It was surprisingly easy, hanging out with Joel and catching up with people. Chloe came back over to say hi and so you could fill her in on the situation with Joel - dragging her husband along behind her - and Bryant, a guy you did a movie with in your early 20s and hooked up with a few times in the fall out after Henry noticed you, smiling when he did.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” He said, coming up and kissing you hello. “How have you been, it’s been ages!”

“I’ve been a little busy,” you laughed, giving him a squeeze, Joel’s hand still firmly on your back. “So have you though, congratulations on the Tony!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, stepping back and looking you up and down. “Fuck, you look good.”

“Thank you,” you smirked. “I’m going to be every teenaged boy’s wet dream now, haven’t you heard?”

“Please, you’ve been that for teenaged boys for years,” he said and you laughed. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

You scrunched your nose and went to turn him down but he cut you off.

“Old time’s sake,” he said. “I’ll only try to get you back in bed for the first minute. Promise.”

You groaned and then looked over to Joel who looked none too happy about the proposition.

“I won’t go far,” you said. “Promise.”

He quirked his jaw.

“This side of the dance floor,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a squeeze as you let Bryant lead you onto the dance floor.

“So,” he said. “What are the chances of you going home with me tonight instead of the giant asshole who is staring at me like he’s about to knife me?”

“Slim,” you said. “But, if it makes you feel better, I will leave with him but only because he’s my bodyguard.”

“That does help,” he said. “But bodyguard? That’s new for you.”

“Just some extra concerns for a little while,” you said. “I have a fan that’s been getting a little aggressive and there was that thing at the premiere a few months ago…”

“I heard about that,” he flinched. “Doing better now?”

“Yeah,” you waved him off. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s as much of a thing as everyone else seems to think it is.”

“Well if Rambo over there is keeping you safe?” He said. “I like him a little more. Though I think he could keep you just as safe by standing outside my bedroom door while I put your ankles by your ears as he could standing outside your room.”

You laughed.

“Bold of you to assume my legs can still bend that way,” you said. “I’m not 23 anymore.”

“Oh I saw that convention footage,” he teased. “I’m pretty sure you could do whatever you wanted to with those legs. But I promised no trying to get you back in my bed after the first minute on the dance floor so I will stop that as of… you’re sure you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Stopping now,” he smiled.

Bryant was true to his word and, when the song ended, you were true to yours, making your way back to Joel as he practically glared a hole into the side of his head.

“See?” You said, standing next to Joel. “All in one piece.”

“Don’t wanna keep you from your boyfriend,” he muttered, crossing his arms and you laughed.

“Not a boyfriend, don’t worry,” you said. “And I’m not going to argue with an excuse to not go home with him, he’s actually not that great in bed.”

Joel snorted at that and you got another cocktail from a passing server.

“Hey,” Chloe came up behind you, looping her arm around your waist. “I have to pee and this dress is a nightmare, can you help me?”

“I dunno,” you looked at Joel, brows raised. “Am I allowed to go to the bathroom?”

“If I stay outside the bathroom door and you don’t try to sneak past me?” Joel said. “Yes.”

“So demanding,” you sighed dramatically, making Joel roll his eyes as you headed off, feeling his gaze heavy on your back as you went.

But when you made inside the bathroom, you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound almost maniacal, and Chloe frowned.

“What?” She asked.

“There are two entrances,” you nodded to the other one. “All that bluster and he wouldn’t even notice if we went out the other door. Should we fuck with Joel and go out the other side, meet him out there?”

“I think you’d give him a heart attack,” she giggled. “Come on, I have to piss like a race horse.”

You went into the stall with her, helping her hold her gown up and then traded, her doing the same for you before you went to wash your hands.

“Come on,” you said, your head swimming from the alcohol and a lightness filling you. “Let’s go out the other door, it would be hilarious.”

“He seems scary,” Chloe scrunched her nose. “Do you really want to poke the bear?”

“Poking the bear is the only fun to be had when you’ve got six and a half feet of muscle following you around all the time,” you replied, drying your hands before straightening your gown. “Come on, you know you want to.”

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “Let’s do it.”

You giggled, wondering if this was how kids in school felt when they played a prank, looping your arm through hers and heading for the other door when you bumped into someone on their way into the bathroom, one of the servers in a black white button down and bow tie.

“Sorry!” You laughed quickly, stepping back, and then realizing that the man was familiar. Not because you’d taken a cocktail from him or grabbed an hors d'oeuvres from his tray. No, you knew his face from another time, from a moment of pain and fear that had stayed planted firmly in your mind in the weeks since it had happened. The wrist that had been in a cast throbbed. You wanted to run but you couldn’t seem to make yourself move, your feet frozen to the earth.

Chloe went to duck around him, trying to pull you with her, but he cut both of you off and your hold on her tightened.

“Excuse us,” she said, no sense of wrongness in her voice. She didn’t know and you couldn’t seem to make your mouth move to tell her. “We’re just headed out.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, lifting his arm, a butcher knife in his grip, and he pressed the blade to your chest.

***

Joel didn’t like any of this.

He didn’t like the way everyone on the damn red carpet - from the people directing you from place to place to the fans to the reporters - seemed to want a piece of you. He didn’t like how you had to laugh at strangers saying crazy shit about how they wanted to fuck you because you were on camera. He didn’t like how packed it was in here and he didn’t like that the volume of the music made it hard to hear jack shit and that the low lights made it hard to see. He didn’t like the way that fucking guy had just come up and kissed you and cracked jokes about getting you into his bed, jealousy twisting hot and sharp in his stomach when he watched that man’s hands on you.

He really didn’t like that you were out of sight right now, in the bathroom with your friend. Yeah, he could make sure no one else went in there and he doubted even you could find much trouble in a bathroom but still. There were so many people here, so many variables, and he couldn’t see you or feel you or hear you. You were outside the realm of his control and he didn’t like it, not at all.

His chest got tighter and he looked at his watch, the one you’d given him, his usual timepiece on the nightstand in his room at the hotel. He’d told himself that he did it to blend in - this fancy fucking suit needed a fancy fucking watch - but he knew that was bullshit as he put it on, his thumb tracing the engraving on the back as he slipped it on his wrist. He put it on because he wanted to look like he belonged with you, even if it was just for a night. He put it on because he wanted to have something that came from you touching him. And then he saw how your face lit up when you noticed it, your genuine happiness at him using something you’d given him, and he had a hard time remembering why he’d avoided it for so long. Why would he ever do anything to keep you from smiling like that? He wasn’t sure.

He’d checked the time when you went into the bathroom, too, and you’d been in the bathroom for what seemed like a while. Yeah, you’d be navigating that fancy dress - the one that damn near sent him into shock when he saw it, the perfect way it framed your shape and accentuated your breasts and exposed your thigh - but still. Something felt off.

He was just about to slip into the bathroom to check on you, propriety be damned, when Chloe stumbled out, tears streaming down her face, slamming into him.

He caught her, quickly looking her up and down, his heart pounding as he desperately searched for some sign of her panic, something besides you being hurt and just out of reach. It had to be something else, it couldn’t be you, it couldn’t.

“You have to help her!” She sobbed before he had the chance to ask where you were, her fingers twisting in the sleeves of his jacket as she clung to him. “He has a knife, he’s got her, you have to help her, please!”

Joel’s heart stuttered and he shoved past your friend and ran headlong into the bathroom, drawing the gun that was strapped to his side as he went.

You were nowhere to be found but he figured out why quickly: there was another fucking way out. He ran for it, keeping his gun low. The other entrance went to a long hall, one end emptying back out into the lounge, the other toward the kitchen. He was trying to take a guess on where to go when a cook came running out from the kitchen, a panicked look on his face, another cook close behind.

“Fuck!” Joel swore, running for the kitchens as more people started pouring out, forcing him to go against the flow of servers and chefs as they made a run for it. He could hear the chaos in the main part of the building, the music cutting out and someone - not you - screaming.

He kept going.

He pushed himself to keep moving even though it felt as though something was choking him, his heart racing, his chest tight because he had to reach you, he had to, until he was behind the building and you were there, straining to not get in the back of a car, a knife held to your throat by a man who - even in the dim glow of the street light - Joel recognized. It was the man from the premiere, the one who had broken your wrist weeks ago. Your body was held tight to his, your hands wrapped almost gently around his arm, trying to keep the knife away from your skin.

Time froze, the whole of the world honing in on this one, fine point. The blade on your skin, the panic on your face, his arm around you. Your life was in this man’s hands and he could take it. Joel was inches away from seeing your blood spill all over that sparkling dress because - for all your ethereal beauty and inhuman perfection - you were just a mortal thing, the same animal he was on the inside. This man could destroy you as easily as anyone else and Joel could feel the pull of that possibility there, this terrifying and haunting potential future on the horizon. It was like he was seeing the car in the road again, smelling the gasoline, feeling the blood on his skin. There would be nothing he could do for you if this man decided to end you, nothing he could do for himself.

He wasn’t going to let that happen. He was not going to hold your body, too.

The world righted itself, time moving again. He ignored the tightness in his chest, raising his gun.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” The man pleaded with you, breathless. You were between Joel and him, he couldn’t get a clean shot. “Just listen to me! Just come with me, it’ll be OK, I won’t hurt you I promise I won’t hurt you, I…”

“Stop!” Joel said, gun up and trained on the man. He looked away from you to Joel, adjusting you ever so slightly so you were even more of a human shield. “Let her go! Now!”

“Joel,” you said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. Your face was streaked with makeup and tears and you looked afraid, so afraid. He was close enough now that he could see you shaking in the man’s arms. “Please.”

“Let her go!” Joel yelled again, moving closer. The man pressed the knife to your throat and Joel froze, your eyes closing, lower lip trembling. “Right the fuck now!”

“You took her from me before,” the man snarled, voice shaky. “I’m not letting you take her again! I just want to love her, that’s it! But you won’t let me!”

“We can work something out,” you said, your voice thick. “Please, just…”

“You don’t understand!” He yelled, spittle flying from his mouth. But he was more focused on you for a moment and Joel took advantage of his distraction to press closer. “I’m what you need! You wouldn’t be fighting me if you just understood! I’ve seen it, you need me, I’m just trying to take care of you, you don’t understand!”

The man looked to Joel again and he stopped, gun still up.

“Stop trying to take her from me!” He shrieked and you flinched. The knife had moved from your throat but was against your chest now, the metal pressing into the skin below your throat and the exposed swell of your breast but not drawing blood. “She needs me! If you cared about her, you’d let her go with me!”

Joel was close and he was a damn good shot but the only part of this man he could reliably hit was his head and that was right by yours. Even if he hit him dead on, at this range, there was a chance the bullet would go through his head and into yours.

“Alright!” Joel said, thinking quickly. “Alright. I’m gonna lower my gun, need you to keep the knife where I can see it.”

“Joel!” You cried, eyes wide and pleading.

“S’OK baby,” he said, putting the gun down slowly. “It’s gonna be OK. He’s not gonna hurt you, it’s gonna be OK.” He turned his attention back to the man. “Keep your eyes on me. I’m lowering the gun.”

He nodded quickly, watching Joel, and he lowered his weapon slowly, aiming it just off to the side as he did. But instead of putting the gun on the ground, Joel shot, aiming for the tire of the car and hitting it.

Things moved quickly then. Joel dropped the gun and ran for you. The man jumped in shock at the gun shot and then tried to get a better grip on you but Joel reached him before he did, ripping you away from him, you collapsing to the pavement as Joel threw the man to the ground.

He tackled him then, the man swinging the knife uselessly at Joel but he was easily able to knock it away, pinning the man below him and then punching him across the face.

Joel had only intended to hit him to knock him out, just enough to protect you, but once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop, the man screaming and writhing below him. Joel hit him again and again, the man’s hands scrambling against his chest, trying to shove him away but Joel was bigger, stronger and lost in the satisfaction of destroying him.

Because it was satisfying. This man had tried to take you, hurt you, kill you. He’d tried to make Joel have to hold your broken body as you bled out in his arms, just like he had five years earlier, he’d tried to take one of the only things left in this world that mattered and destroy it simply because he could and Joel could make him pay. He’d never been able to get justice from his daughter’s killer but he could get justice from this man. He could make sure this man never, ever hurt you again.

He hit him again and again and again until his fist and jacket sleeves and the face of the watch you’d given him were bloodied and the man below him stopped shoving at Joel, his body going limp. His chest wasn’t moving.

Joel finally stopped punching him then, his knuckles ruined, and he panted for breath, looking down at what remained of the man. Because he wasn’t a man anymore, he was a body. He was dead. The man was dead and Joel had killed him and he knew that something in him should feel bad about that but he couldn’t. All he could feel was this righteous satisfaction that he’d kept you safe. This was what he was supposed to do, what he was built to do. He was supposed to protect you - even if it killed him he was supposed to protect you - and he had.

He went to make sure the knife was out of the man’s reach - just in case he was wrong about the fact that he was dead - and it was. But it was also bloody and it was too far away for that blood to be from Joel’s assault.

“No,” he breathed, looking, frantic, for you.

He found you quickly, lying flat on your back, your eyes wide and afraid. You were shaking and there was blood at your chest, enough that it had smeared on your skin and turned some of the silver beads of your gown red.

“No, no, no,” he scrambled for you and those wide, terrified eyes found his. “No, you’re OK baby, you’re OK.”

He looked you over quickly, his hands ranging over your body, taking stock, and he realized that he wasn’t going to have to hold your body, too. The man had cut you but it wasn’t deep and gaping. It wasn’t like her. You were hurt but you would be OK and he took a deep, centering breath. You were going to live. He wasn’t going to need to find a way to survive a world without you in it, you were going to live.

His hands were cautious on you then, gentle, as he tried to pull you into his arms but you threw your arms around his neck, practically clawing up his body until you were pressed tightly to him. Your whole body shook and you sobbed, heavy and racking as you gulped frantic breaths against him.

“Joel,” your voice was muffled by his shirt and he could feel the wet of your blood and tears on him. “He… he was going…”

“I know,” he said softly, clutching you against him and rocking you gently. He could barely breathe. There were sirens in the distance. You were alive. You weren’t dying in his arms, he wasn’t going to have to put you in the ground, you were alive. You were alive. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Please don’t leave me,” you clung to him. “Please don’t go, please don’t leave me, please.”

He held you closer, tighter.

“Not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I’ve got you baby. You’re OK. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you. You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

Next Chapter

A/N: OH THEY'RE IN IT NOWWWWWWW

I'm so excited for the next chapter you guys. So excited. So so so so so so SO excited.

I've only been picturing it since I first came up with this fic, nothing crazy at all, nope, not squealing and kicking my lil feelies one bit.

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you've enjoyed the journey these characters have been on together and I hope you enjoy where they're going next, too!

Love you!!

Taglist: @christinamadsen@eff4freddie@brittmb115@copperhalfcent@r3dheadedwitch@pedropascalsbbg@lovelyjess69@yopossum@moel-jiller@picketniffler@lilyevanstan1325@reluctanthalfwayoptimism@wintersquirrel@missladym1981@mellymbee @canthinkof1user @inept-the-magnificent@secretlyangelic@pedrobae@scarletsloveletter@phry-k@sunnytuliptime

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #bodyguard!joel #bodyguard au #tsats #the savage and the sanctuary #joel miller x female oc

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lusmeitli · 9 months ago

Text

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break.

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him.

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together.

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left.

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?”

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand.

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped.

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

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