#I told my parents since i was 13 that i lived some things that were not right

[gaminegay]

Btw if i ever have a total breakdown no one can say they didn't see it coming

[harryslittlefreakk]

the pact

summary: you and harry made a childhood pact to marry if you were both still single when he reached 30. now that his big birthday is approaching, you find out whether your friendship (and your pact) have stood the test of time

warnings: mostly fluff, some smut :)

wordcount: 6k

a/n: i actually really like this one. it’s not proofread yet as i was so eager to get it up lol. hope you enjoy!

my masterlist can be found here! happy reading 🫶🏼

From the second you’d received the invitation, you were buzzing with a giddy nervousness. It had been years since you’d seen Harry, though Anne and Gemma were always so quick to share what he was up to. You’d followed his career silently for 13 years, still bumping into him every few years when Anne hosted Boxing Day, or he happened to be in town for your family’s annual summer barbecues. In your mind, he was still the cheeky, dimpled little lad you’d hide under the dining room table with, imagining you were explorers of far away lands.

But Harry wasn’t the young boy you’d chased after in your childhood anymore, the teenager you looked out for when you stuck your head over the garden fence to call your sister home. He wasn’t the handsome young man you’d spent countless hours swooning over with your friends in the bakery after school. Harry was a global sensation, the world’s sweetheart. You weren’t sure he’d even recognise you, a forgotten reminder of much simpler days.

Growing up next door to Harry hadn’t come without its challenges. You’d lost your childhood best friend seemingly overnight once One Direction formed, his life suddenly busy with meetings, tours and interviews. Anne still welcomed you with open arms, but her house felt a little too cold for you with his presence haunting the walls, memories etched into every surface of the house. You’d still hang out in his bedroom sometimes, his band posters and drawings left collecting dust in a lifeless room. When girls from school learned of your connection to him, they’d befriend you and treat you like the hottest new thing until you refused to give over any information. He was your Harry, your long-gone games and silly memories something you held close to your heart. It soon seemed easier to let him go altogether, move on to a new chapter, stop waiting for your best friend to appear again.

Still, you were glad to be able to support Gemma on one of her biggest days. She’d become such a regular feature in your household, she felt like family herself. Your parents had been more overjoyed at the news of her impending nuptials than any of yours or your sister’s recent achievements. They loved Gemma like their own, their ‘extra daughter’, as your dad called her. You knew this was as big a moment for them as it was for Anne, having watched Gemma grow from the tiny dark-haired girl your sister had raved about on her first day of school, to a woman about to become a wife.

Standing outside of the venue now, a beautiful old church overlooking the peaceful tides below, yours and Harry’s childhood pact suddenly hit you. You were laying on a blanket in your garden, tops of your heads pressed together as you made out shapes in the clouds above. “I will never get married,” you told Harry. Your parents had had their wedding album out that day, sharing stories with Anne and Robin. You squirmed and grimaced every time they spoke about it, never understanding how any girl would willingly share their life with a boy. “Yuck,” he squeaked from next to you. “Me either. I don’t ever want to live with a stinky girl!” You giggled together, the cool evening breeze washing over you. “Maybe, maybe I might one day though. When I’m really old and lonely.”

“Old like my parents?” you asked him. “Even olderer than that. Like 30.” You gasped, quickly trying to count on your fingers. “That’s really really old. Maybe we can be married when we’re 30.” Harry ran inside when you said this, leaving you chasing after him once again. He grabbed a napkin from the kitchen counter and scribbled on it in felt tip,

‘I ____ will marry Harry when we’re really super old’

“You have to put your name on that line or it’s not real,” Harry told you, handing the blue felt tip to you. You both signed your initials underneath, and proudly went to show your parents. They’d fallen about in laughter when you told them, promising to hold you to your pact. You hadn’t seen the napkin since that day, and you were sure it was long forgotten by everybody, especially Harry. You felt a small twinge in your chest at this, suddenly wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Hey Boo, you okay? Anne wants to get some pictures of us all together before the ceremony,” your dad told you, leading you through the crowd of guests. Boo was the only nickname that had ever stuck for you, starting when you and Harry decided to go as Boo and Sully from Monsters Inc. one Halloween. You’d originally wanted to be Mike, but with your big brown eyes shielded by little bangs and your signature pigtails, everyone persuaded you to be Boo. You’d outgrown almost everything else from childhood, but Boo was stuck with you for life.

“Oh Y/N, you look lovely darling,” Anne cooed as you came into her sight. She pulled you in for a hug, kissing your cheek as she pulled away. You had to admit, you did scrub up well. It was a long time since you’d really made the effort to look properly nice, still caught in the comfort of your pandemic wardrobe of leggings and sweatshirts. The olive-green maxi dress you’d settled on hugged your body in all the right places, a thick band of material draping over your chest and the tops of your arms, showcasing your toned shoulders. You’d always weirdly liked your shoulders and neck, an odd area to be proud of but it was by far your favourite part of your body. Your hair was scraped back in a sleek bun, tiny wisps framing your fresh face. “Gem and Sophia are still inside, they’ll be out in a minute. Gem’s so excited to see you, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together,” Anne gushed, running a hand up the outside of your arm.

She had such a delicate, warm presence, it was no wonder she’d raised two children as incredible as Harry and Gemma. Anne had been an extension of your own mum as you grew up, small traces of her as much as part of you as they were her own kids. She’d talked you through boys and heartbreaks, been there to wave you off to your school prom, one of the proudest faces in the crowd when you graduated university. She’d been stationed on the garden patio alongside your mum at every birthday party, the two women nattering away as they guarded the wine.

Gemma stepped out of the door, pulling you out of your daydream down memory lane. Your jaw went slack when you saw her, she was positively radiant. Her dress was a dainty satin, huge bishop sleeves adorning her arms and a beautiful full skirt, flowing around her petite frame in the gentle seaside breeze. Your mum rushed over to her first, smoothing a loving hand down the front of her skirt. “You look beautiful Gem,” she told her, tears glistening on her bottom eyelashes. Hugs and pleasantries were exchanged throughout the group, shoulders bumping gaily as you moved around. One thing was still missing though - Harry. You knew he’d never miss his sisters wedding, though he was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Just as you were about to ask, you saw him. With a deep brown suit jacket draped across his body, matching slacks hanging loose on his muscular thighs. A white vest hung low on his chest, his inked swallows sitting pretty on tanned skin.

You knew how good he looked these days, of course. Your tiktok had been full of videos of him performing, Anne’s house littered with framed photos. But seeing him in real life lit a fire in your belly. He’d always been pretty, green eyes and curls enough to charm any woman, but now he was hot. A great, big hunk of sexy man. He approached your parents first, laughing as your dad chose to forgo Harry’s outstretched hand, pulling him into a hug instead. “Here’s our not-so-little superstar,” he smiled, ruffling Harry’s messy curls. Harry pressed a kiss into your mums cheek, exchanging a quick but heartfelt hello. His eyes caught on yours as he glanced across the courtyard, your brown eyes still crinkled as you smiled, in exactly the same way they had when you were younger. “Little Boo!” he chuckled, striding towards you. His strong arms wrapped you into a firm cuddle, his musky scent spilling into your pores. “You look incredible,” he whispered into your ear, voice raspy and low. It wasn’t long before Anne was ushering you all into place to take some pictures, cutting yours and Harry’s catch up short. “Come and find me later,” he told you as you beamed for the camera.

—

With the ceremony long-finished, the party had spilled out of the church hall and onto the grounds outside. You’d danced, mingled and laughed for as long as you could before needing a minute of quiet. Brushing your hand across your mum’s back, you told her you were going for a little walk and would be back soon. You slipped out of the open doors, yanking your heels off in search of some quick relief. You spotted a little wooden bench overlooking the sea, a little way away from the other guests. A great oak tree shielded it from the warm evening sun, providing you just the right amount of peace.

“Thought you were gonna find me,” a voice suddenly came from behind you. You turned around to see Harry approaching your private spot, a sparkling glass in each hand. “Hey,” you smiled. “Just needed a little bit of quiet. Come sit,” you patted the bench beside you. Harry handed you one of the glasses as he sat down, murmuring, “saw you heading over here. Thought I’d bring you a little tipple.” You cheersed, the clinking of glasses cutting through a heavy silence. “How have you been?” he asked you, shifting his body slightly to face you.

“Been good, H. Thank you for asking. Work’s going well, was a bit slow with the pandemic and all but life’s been kind to me recently. I don’t really need to ask you, do I?” you laughed, suddenly shy in his presence. “No, I guess not,” he answered, smiling kindly at you. You settled back into an uncomfortable silence, not really sure how to talk to one another anymore.

“Mum told me you moved to London,” Harry said, seemingly desperate to pierce the awkwardness hanging over you both. “Yeah, I did,” you told him, explaining how Holmes Chapel had started to feel just a little too small, a little too cut off from the rest of the world. “I can understand that,” he told you, chuckling. You ran through the usual questions, telling him about your work as an illustrator, your little flat off of Finchley high road, the couple of girls from school you’d kept in touch with. “I can’t believe you live so close to me,” he gasped. “Mum could never remember what area you lived in, if I’d known you were only down the road we could have reconnected long before now,” Harry told you. You let out an involuntary scoff at this, telling him, “you know where to find me, H. You know your mum has my number, you know where I’ll be every Christmas and birthday. If you really wanted to reconnect it would have happened long before now.” Your words tumbled out, years of one-sided hurt and rejection suddenly pushing to the surface. Harry took a big sip of his drink, placing his hand over yours. “I’ve been shit, I know. Got caught up in everything and barely looked back. Wanted to reach out a long time before now but I couldn’t bring myself,” he told you. “Felt so bad for how I just disappeared and didn’t want to face it.”

You looked at him with sad eyes, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. “I get it, H. I’m really happy for you, I am. You had all your dreams come true, it’s amazing,” you set your glass down beside you and held your other hand over his. “Just feel sad that I lost my best friend overnight.” Your eyes welled up as you spoke, a combination of the free-flowing prosecco, the beautiful ceremony, and facing your hurt with the man who caused it. “Never had a friend who got me like you did,” you chuckled bitterly. Harry pulled his hands from yours and snaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. “I’m sorry, little Boo, I swear.”

The pair of you stayed that way for a while, soaking in each other’s words and the idyllic setting. Just being close to each other for the first time in almost a decade, having said what you both needed to, was bliss. “I thought about you a lot, y’know,” Harry told you suddenly, the words bursting out as if he’d been biting them back for a while. “Yeah?” you asked him, sitting up straighter to look at him again. He nodded, cheeks twinged slightly pink. You weren’t sure if it was the booze or his confession. “All my big moments, always wished you were there.”

“You know I would’ve been if I knew you wanted me to, Harry.”

“I know,” he mumbled, watching his own trainer-clad feet kicking little rocks around. “My mum and dad went to a few of your shows with Anne, watched the Brits and the Grammys every year you were nominated.” You swallowed thickly, before continuing, “I’m really proud of you, we all are.”

Harry turned his head slightly to the sound of music blaring from inside, before asking you, “dance with me?” He extended a hand to help you up, placing his glass down before wrapping an arm around your waist. You stepped together slowly, bodies moving in unison with your head rested softly against his chest. The skies had gotten gradually darker as you’d spoken, closing in around you until only a faint glow seeped out from the open church doors. Harry pushed you out, spinning you around before tugging you back into him. You smacked against his chest with a little ‘umph’, the wind knocked out of you. Your eyes met his, a little dazed, and all you could do was stare.

It felt like a betrayal of your childhood self to find him so attractive now. He was your best friend, your first friend, the only one to ever understand you fully. He’d guided you through your awkward pre-teen stage, the extra years he had on you put to good use when he showed you cool bands and songs to make boys like you. But now, you wanted him to be the boy that liked you. You were so flustered under his gaze, heat tearing through your body. “Let’s head back in,” you told Harry, words shaky. He kept an arm tight around your shoulder, shaking you about as you approached the church. ‘I’ve got my little Boo back’ he laughed in a sing-song tune. You could feel the happiness radiating off his body, knowing without even looking that his toothy grin would be firmly nestled between two deep dimples.

Your parents were sat around a table with Anne, Michal and Gemma still doing the rounds. You could tell they were drunk from a mile away - your dads cheeks stained red with merriment and Anne’s hands gesturing wildly as your mum roared with laughter. You’d missed this. You still went home as often as you could, never missing an opportunity to enjoy time with your loved ones, but before seeing Harry today it always felt different. Gemma, your sister, and Harry had all moved on, never fully present. But being the youngest, you were the one left behind. Harry pulled around two chairs for you both, plopping down between you and his mum. She draped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. “My special boy, where have you been?” she slurred.

“Been catching up,” Harry told her, a blush creeping up his cheeks as she looked between the two of you before winking at him. She was far from subtle before getting wine drunk, so now her entire head moved with her wink. She highlighted it with a loud “wink, wink” in Harry’s direction. “Anne!” you spluttered, choking out a laugh. Your dad reached over to snatch the two empty glasses from in front of you and Harry, promising to fill them to the brim so you could ‘get on their bloody level’.

The evening continued like that, the 5 of you drinking and laughing, reminiscing on your younger days. Your parents and Anne managing to bring up enough embarrassing stories about you both to put you off ever speaking to them again. “I think it’s time we all go to bed,” Harry started, holding his hands up. “Because we’re all fucking PISSED!”, he continued, yelling at the table. You banged on the table in hysterics, eyes screwed up tight as you and Anne fell into each other in laughter. Most of the venue had cleared out by now, guests dropping by your table to congratulate Anne on their way out. You’d barely seen Gemma all night, so content in her little love bubble that she’d spent the majority of the evening alone with Michal, feeding each other cake and slow-dancing.

“Come on, you big lump,” you tugged at your dad’s wrists who in turn pulled at your mum to stand up. Your dad swung his arms around you both, Harry and Anne joining onto the end, and you stumbled towards the exit in a fit of laughter. Harry tried to start a can-can line, kicking one big foot up into the air, but the 5 of you put together had far less coordination than even one sober person, so the idea was quickly abandoned.

The church had a converted barn outside, with rooms purpose-built for immediate family and friends to stay in. You hugged and kissed your goodnights to your parents and Anne, making sure they all got into bed without mischief. Now it was only you and Harry left, buzzed but significantly less drunk than your elders. “Care for one last round?” Harry asked you, slipping a little hip flask out from his blazer pocket. You knew this was a bad idea, a drunken evening alone with the man you’d been lusting after all day. But you certainly wouldn’t make the first move, and you were almost sure he didn’t think of you as anything other than the little girl who used to run around with him.

You followed him into his room, laughing to drown out the alarm bells ringing in your head. Once you saw the empty bed in front of you, you couldn’t help but just flop down on it, suddenly needing to be as comfortable as you could. The room was aged and rustic, but the bed was far more comfortable than it looked. Harry sat against the pillows beside you, long legs stretched out before him as he took a swig from the flask.

For the first time that day, the silence around you was peaceful. Just two old friends enjoying each others presence. Harry watched you as you took the flask from him, grimacing as the liquor went down with a burn. His green eyes were studying every little line on your face, every freckle dotted across your bare shoulders. There was so much new about you, so many little details and marks you’d gained as you grew older, all the little telltale signs of the years he’d missed. What he’d said to you earlier was true, he’d missed you with his whole heart from the second he’d left you behind, spent so many lonely nights wishing he had you by his side. He thought he’d outgrown you, his new-found fame taking precedence over the little girl he’d shared his dreams and aspirations with. But sitting here now with you, he knew you’d grown with him, no matter how far removed your life had become from his. “‘M nearly 30, you know,” he drawled, voice hoarse from the singing and the sting of alcohol in his throat.

“Huh?” you turned to him confused. “I’m 30 next year,” he told you. “Yeah I know, H. What does that have to do with anything?” you laughed, poking at the side of his head. “Means we have to get married next year,” he grinned. You gasped, remembering the pact you’d thought about earlier in the day, “you didn’t forget!” you laughed, sitting up against the soft pillows.

“Can’t do it next year though, two weddings in a year would send our parents insane,” you told him. “‘M finished with my tour now. Got nothing on next year,” Harry shrugged, a familiar cheeky smirk sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks. You felt something shift in the air as he spoke, and he seemed to feel it too, edging closer to you until his face was only centimetres away from yours. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he cooed, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch shot electricity through your core, a tingling sensation starting where his fingers touched you before washing over your whole body. You shook your head lightly, eyes fixed on him. He leaned in at this, his parted lips meeting yours. The beginnings of a moustache tickled your upper lip, his hot breath flowing into your mouth with every lick of his tongue. You shifted your body towards him as the kiss deepened, four legs and the now-crumpled duvet tangling together as you rushed to close the distance between your bodies. Harry licked into your mouth with the passion of a million years of unspoken longing, his movements saying more than he ever could with words. It was the kind of kiss you’d expect from someone who’d loved you for a lifetime, who wanted to love you for a lifetime, your tongues working alongside each other like this was routine, like you’d done it a thousand times before.

“Harry,” you whispered, hands pushing his blazer from his shoulders. He let you pull it off him, then stroked a hand up your thigh as you admired his upper body. One arm was littered in patchwork tattoos, though all you could focus on was his muscles, illuminated beautifully in the evening light. “Let me get you out of this,” he rasped, twisting your shoulders around to access the zip running down the back of your dress. He smoothed his fingers down your waist and to your hips before unzipping you, your body dwarfed by his strong hands. Harry pressed a kiss into the top of your back, then kissed up and down your spine, hungry for a taste of you as he unveiled more of your skin. You stood up to help him pull your dress down, resting one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you stepped out of it, leaving it discarded on the floor. “Matches my eyes,” he smiled. His gaze trailed from your toes, up to your knees, to where your panties wrapped around your hips, and higher still. Up your tanned abdomen to your bare breasts where your rosebud nipples sat perky, to your neck, and finally his gaze rested on your eyes. “Y’so beautiful,” he groaned, running a soft touch along the curve of your neck.

Harry pulled his tank top over his head, stepping out of his slacks as they collapsed at his feet. His body was unbelievable. So tanned and toned, firm in all the right places yet soft in the best ones. You could see the outline of his hard shaft through the thin fabric of his boxers, an almost silent moan slipping out as you took in the sight before you.

He stepped closer to you, backing you up until the side of the bed hit the back of your knees, then held a hand to your back to guide you down onto it. His hot, drunken breath washed over you as he climbed on top of you, one hand balancing his body as the other explored you. His fingers groped your breast firmly, mouth finding the opposite nipple, sucking it into his lips in one quick movement. Your back arched off the bed, pleasure so built up that it only took one touch to send you into a frenzy. Harry licked a circle around your areola, chuckling against your skin as you writhed under his touch. “Barely even started yet, little Boo,” he drawled, moving upwards to kiss along your clenched jaw.

His fingers danced down your body, smoothing over your mound as you gasped and groaned. They slipped under the soft material of your panties, blissfully cold against the heat of your entrance. You were already soaked through, much to his surprise, so he swiped a finger through your folds to collect your juices before landing straight on your clit. Harry rubbed you in circles, the friction leaving you a panting mess under him, head jutting out to press open-mouthed kisses on his throat.

He pulled your panties down your thighs tenderly, kissing every inch of skin they passed over. In the dim light of the room, mouth moving up and down your body, he’d never looked so handsome. His cock brushed against you as he moved back up your body to focus again on your folds, your juices spread across your mound in a mess. Two long fingers dived straight in, his rings leaving a harsh chill against your sensitive skin. The stretch of his fingers alone had you panting, a familiar burning starting in your core. Harry found your sweet spot insanely fast, fingers moving in a perfect beckoning motion just as you liked. He navigated your body like you’d done this before, like the muscle memory just guided him to what he knew made you feel good. “I want more, want you inside of me,” you whined, hips bucking towards Harry’s groin as he silenced you with a deep kiss. “Got to get you ready for me first, Boo”, he told you. You winced as he used your nickname, knowing you’d never be able to hear your dad call you that without thinking of this night.

Harry’s mouth found your breast again, sucking deep purple bruises onto the gentle skin as you whimpered beneath him. He smacked at your pussy as your moans got louder, causing your eyes to shoot up to meet his. “Gotta keep the noise down, sweet girl.” You nodded in response, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to keep yourself as quiet as you could be. The second his tongue found your nipple, you felt your orgasm bubbling up in your core. Harry noticed the way your head lulled back, slipping a third finger inside of you and using his thumb to brush against your clit. It was like the holy trinity of foreplay, his skilled tongue and fingers hitting your three most pleasurable zones at once. Your climax hit quickly, walls tightening around his digits as you clamped your forearm across your mouth, desperately trying not to scream his name. He peppered kisses down your throat as his fingers rode you through your high, only pulling them away when you went limp under him. Harry held his fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick off every trace of your creamy come.

He backed off you to kick his boxers down his legs, stroking his erection as it oozed precum. He found his wallet, pulling out a condom and rolling it down the length of his cock. “How do you want me, sweet girl?” he asked you, cock twitching in his hand. “Wanna go on top,” you told him, suddenly eager to impress. If his cock was anywhere near as good to you as his hands and mouth had been, you couldn’t only have him once. You needed to show him how good your pretty pussy could take him, make him want to come back for more.

Harry rolled onto the centre of the bed, hands guiding your hips down over his groin. His hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you towards him for a sloppy kiss. His mouth tasted of you, the familiar tingle of juices on his tongue. You stroked his member up and down quickly, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing yourself down onto his tip. “Fuck, H. You’re so big,” you whined, thighs burning as you hovered above him. He used his hands to move you up, then down, down, down, helping you to take him fully. The burn was like nothing you’d experienced before, his girthy cock crammed into every corner of your pussy. You stilled for a moment, hands resting against his butterfly tattoo, chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to push past the ache. He held a thumb under your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “You ok, pet?” he asked, needing to be sure before you continued. You nodded, moving one arm to pull his finger into your mouth. You licked circles around his fingertip, sucking it in down to his knuckle before releasing with it a pop.

Harry’s hands guided your hips to grind against him, helping you until you found your rhythm. He pulled them away, one landing with a loud smack on your ass cheek as the other crept up the front of your body, resting at your throat. He squeezed lightly, the sensation only spurring you on to bounce up and down on him, the combination of your juices squelching as your cheeks slapped against his groin. It was the kind of hot, dirty sex you’d only ever dreamed of, and it had you falling apart on top of him. You cried out a strangled moan, expletives falling out of both of your mouths. “Feel so good around me,” Harry groaned, “so fucking wet. S’that all for me?”

“All for you, H. M’all yours,” you whimpered. His hips bucked against you as you told him you were his, fingers pulling away from your supple ass. He spat on them before dancing them back across your asscheek and smoothing the spit around your second hole, eyes fixed on your pussy bouncing on his cock. “Can I?” he asked you. “Please, H.”

He pushed a finger into your tightness, filling you up so well. You felt so full you could burst. His eyes were clouded over with lust, tiny hairs slick to his forehead with sweat. He looked feral, and you loved it. He repositioned his feet to where they were flat against the bed, hips knocking into you as you moved up and down his cock, his thrusts sending him deeper and deeper inside of you. You were both panting now, barely able to contain your highs for a second longer. “Come with me, come with me please,” you begged him, your second orgasm of the night starting to rise through your core. His thrusts got faster and sloppier, obscene sounds echoing around the room, a clear sign of what you were doing to anyone who could hear you right now. Your orgasm crept up on you quickly, thanks to Harry tightening his grip around your neck and pushing his finger further into your tight hole. Your head was thrown back as you came, back arched making his cock feel as though it could burst through your belly button. Harry moaned loudly, hips jutting one last time as he flooded the condom with his come. You collapsed in a sweaty heap, totally unable to hold yourself up any longer.

“Took me so well, angel girl,” Harry drawled as he pulled out of you, padding across the room to toss the condom and rinse his hands. You lay there in total bliss, comfortable in the knowledge that your friendship was long gone.

—

“Let me go first and you can come after,” you told Harry, holding a finger up to shush him when he started to laugh. “We’re grown adults, Y/N, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees us come out together.”

“I don’t write songs about sex and drugs. My body is still untouched in my parents eyes,” you told him, hand slipping from the doorknob as he pulled you in for another kiss. “Just don’t come until you hear me leaving.”

You crept out of the room as silently as you could, heels and dress bundled under one arm. You’d heard Anne, your parents and Gemma head out to the courtyard already, so there was no danger of being caught by prying eyes - or so you thought. As you were padding across the hallway to your room, Anne appeared round the corner. “I was just coming to see if you were awake,” she told you, eyes sparkling with glee. “No wonder your mum said your bed was untouched.” She knocked on Harry’s door with a tight-lipped smile lighting up her face. He opened the door wide-eyed as Anne pulled him into a firm hug, pressing a sticky lipgloss kiss to his cheek. “I always hoped you two would get together.” She disappeared back down the hall as quickly as she appeared, leaving you and Harry blushing.

You decided to make your way outside together, knowing it wouldn’t be long before your parents put two and two together anyway. Plus, you knew Anne wouldn’t be able to resist telling your mum and Gemma what she saw.

—

You decided to spend the day on the beach, you and Harry with your parents and Anne, since Gemma and Michal had already left for their honeymoon. It was a perfect summers day, the sun warm enough to enjoy but not hot enough to irritate you, the gentle sea breeze cooling you down as it washed over you. Your mum and Anne were sprawled across a linen blanket, two bottles of wine stood in the sand next to their feet. They called you over, instant dread washing over you as Anne excitedly shouted your name. “Do you have anything to tell us?” she asked you, and you were sure there would be mischief glinting in her eyes under her big sunglasses. They sat up and scooted over on their blanket, leaving space for you to slot in between. “Nothing that I’m sure you don’t already know,” you smirked, a deep blush creeping up your cheeks. Your mum looked between Anne and you, gasping as she swatted at your leg. “So it’s true! You dirty little minx.”

You held your head in your hands, mortified that your parents knew you’d slept with Harry. “Oh relax,” your mum told you. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” she smirked, throwing herself towards Anne as they howled in laughter. Anne stopped suddenly, her hand tapping at your mum’s thigh incessantly. “If they get married, we’ll be real family!” she gasped, face pink with joy. “Well, the pact is what got us there in the first place,” Harry told them, sitting down next to you and snaking a hand around your waist.

“I forgot all about that,” your mum’s jaw went slack. “Do you still have it?” she asked Anne. “Of course I do. Kept it safe to show them when they found their way back to each other, always knew this day would come.”

part two

taglist: @sleutherclaw @harrysolaf @slutforcoffein

[wooahaes]

dream a little dream with me

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 9/13

word count: 4.7k~

warnings: skinship. food mentions. some slight angst.

daisy’s notes: oh to have a soulmate i meet with in my dreams...

summary: Jeonghan knows you. He might not know your face, but you’re the person in his dreams every night. And frankly… he’s pretty sure he’s already falling for you. He just has to figure out how to find you when the world won’t let him trade names or locations or anything he can actually use. At least he knows your favorite things…

"Hello...?"

Jeonghan was maybe thirteen when he finally met you for the first time, and you'd already proven him wrong with your existence alone. When he had turned ten, he expected to feel... something. To lose all the colors within his vision, or maybe he would feel your pain or something physical. A name, your first thoughts, your first words... Except he felt nothing. It'd upset him, sure--most people were upset by that kind of thing just on the account of being considered an outsider to their peers. Yet now he'd found himself in a museum filled with paintings he couldn't fully make out, and surrounded by people with blurry faces... Except for you.

He'd blinked. "Hello?"

And you lit up, making your way over to him. "You're...?"

Jeonghan had furrowed his brow, watching you carefully. Why could he see you...? "I'm Jeonghan," he had said, thinking that was what you meant.

You'd given him your given name, too--last name melting into white noise for a second. For a moment, you stood there, brimming with excitement. "We're--We're soulmates."

Immediately, he'd felt lighter at the revelation. "Oh!" Then he paused, brows drawing together once more as a follow-up thought pushed into his head immediately. "Why haven't we met before?"

He'd seen the way you grew more upset, gaze no longer meet his own. "I'm... It's complicated." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I think... Our sleep schedules don't overlap?" You looked up. "I laid down to take a nap for a bit because I was feeling sick, so..."

So you weren't near him. He felt a sting of rejection, even though you hadn't said anything of the sort.. Emotions were weird at thirteen, after all, and something like his soulmate not being near him. Obviously, it wasn't your fault: you didn't pick where you lived. He looked around, and felt... awkward. It was different than meeting someone for the first time in reality. At least other people were around. Now, it just you and him in this dream together.

"Do you wanna talk?" He said after a moment. "Since... I don't know if I'll get to see you again."

"You aren't mad?"

He shook his head. "I just wish you were closer," he crossed his arms. "This isn't fair."

You frowned. "It's not... So let's talk."

The two of you strolled on your own, getting to know one another. He learned the country you were from, even though he wouldn't know what city or town you were in. He learned about this doughnut place in your hometown, though, that you loved to visit when you could. He told you school stories and about his own friends, about the pranks he'd pulled on his little sister... Little things to learn about one another. He learned your favorite color, you learned the foods he disliked...

And then all too soon, you had disappeared within seconds. He had called for you, only to realize that you must have woken up--or been woken up, since it was so sudden. When he woke up the next morning for school, he told his parents that he'd met his soulmate in his dreams (even though he couldn't fully remember your face once he was awake).

Thus began the cycle. He probably needed the naps he would start taking in an attempt to meet you again, but he'd grown used to pushing through his fatigue to work on schoolwork or to spend time with friends. Yet his parents always knew where he'd be when they came home from work, finding him asleep on his bed as he hoped to meet you again.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes he could sit with you for a little while, long enough to see you off before you woke up for your own schooling. Other times, he'd get home far too late to see you. But every time the two of you met over the rest of your teenage years, you made it work. The two of you would talk more about yourselves, getting to know each other better. He learned how to tell when you were upset, and would let you vent if you needed to. You'd given him a space to talk freely about his own feelings, too: the things that made him happy, or the things that were worrying him in real life...

Most people didn't know about his 'other' life in his dreams. The one where the two of you would go on walks in a city, sometimes holding hands. He'd slowly begun to fall for you over time, realizing that the care you showed him was sweet. The two of you had been strangers years ago, and now he understood maybe that was why the two of you were soulmates.

When he tried to kiss you around eighteen, you stopped him.

"I wanna kiss you for real," you said to him, holding his hands. "I know it's unfair to ask you to wait for me, but--"

"I will." He hadn't hesitated. Although he had kissed a girl once before (he was fifteen, and he realized after he did it that he'd much rather be kissing the person in his dreams) and told you so, he'd held off on dating. He wanted to experience things with you.

You'd squeezed his hands. "You don't have to."

Were you rejecting him...? What if he started dating someone and he loved them more than he already loved you? Part of him felt like he knew he would leave that person if he met you face-to-face, and yet... That meant he would hurt someone else. He'd heard stories about soulmates who left partners to be with one another, and while they were happy, the people left behind grew to resent them. Could he really do that to another person?

"You don't want me to?" He'd pulled his hands from yours, feeling the tiny sting in his chest.

You shook your head. "No, I--I just don't want you to wait around for me forever. What if we never meet?"

But what if we do? Jeonghan felt his heart sink in his chest. "We will," he said. Jeonghan never considered himself a hopeless romantic, but he had the naivete of a eighteen-year-old on his side. "I'll find you. I promise."

Before you could say something, you had begun to fade again. You were waking up. "Jeonghan--"

And then you were gone.

The first person Jeonghan had told about you was one of his college roommates, Joshua. He'd been listening to the way he'd been venting about how he felt he was annoying his soulmate whenever he sang, and waited until Seungcheol left for class to finally admit it out loud. He'd tell Seungcheol, too, soon: he just... needed to do it at his own pace. Both of his roommates seemed like good people who wouldn't judge him, but he'd already decided. Joshua first, and then Seungcheol. Deciding on that had made it easier, especially since Seungcheol was the busier of the two.

"My soulmate and I share dreams," he had said, pushing around the noodles in his ramyeon cup.

Joshua looked up. "Oh. Really?"

He nodded. "We talk whenever we can. It's hard. They're not from here. Depending on when I take a nap, I can either talk to them for a while or just ten minutes..."

"It sounds hard," Joshua nodded along. He'd sat backwards in his chair, leaning against the back of it with his chest, arms folded over the top. "So what are you doing to find them?"

Jeonghan said nothing.

"... Aren't you going to look for them?"

Jeonghan's gaze flickered up from his food. "I don't know. I don't know if they actually want to be found."

"That's--"

"We talked about it last time we met, a little over a year ago." He pushed around noodles more, never actually eating. "I'm in love with them. I don't know how they feel, although they said they'd rather kiss me for real when we meet. Then they said not to wait for them."

"It sounds like they're in love with you, too," he said.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. "Then why tell me not to wait?"

"Well... They're not from here." Joshua rested his chin on his arms. "Maybe they don't want you to feel like you can't date or anything."

"Don't you think I've tried it before?" Jeonghan looked up. "After they said that, I tried to move on, and I spent the entire time comparing her to my soulmate. She's not them."

Joshua frowned. "Dude... If you spend the entire time comparing, them, you're not going to be happy--"

"I know that." Jeonghan let out a sigh. "I just... I tried being with other people. She wasn't the only girl I tried to date--or see at all." They're just my soulmate, and I realized how much I love them every time I try to be with someone else. But would Joshua understand that...? Or would he just sound over-dramatic for someone he'd never met in person?

"I... see." Joshua looked off. "I guess it's different when you know your soulmate."

Jeonghan softened a little when he saw the guilt on Joshua's face. "It's fine," he said. "I just... I wish I could go to them. I don't know where they are, exactly, and it's not like I can go find them."

Can't you? He pushed away the thought. The world was big. .He couldn't just go out and find you--at least, not without looking like a creep. As much as he wished he could just let go of that desire deep within him to be with you, even temporarily, he just couldn't. Not when he'd gotten to know you so deeply. He felt as though a part of him would always be with you now, and that he carried you with him wherever he went.

Joshua understood, though. He listened, and he gave Jeonghan his thoughts whenever he asked for him. Seungcheol would eventually do the same, once Jeonghan told him about his soulmate. Seungcheol hadn't shown any offense to not being told (it was Jeonghan's business, after all). And in the moments in-between, Jeonghan was with you in some way--either thoughts preoccupied with you or in the fleeting moments of sharing a dream space.

"I kissed someone," you confessed at one point. Jeonghan had been sitting underneath a tree with you, fashioning a flower crown out of the little yellow blossoms that littered the ground around him. You craned your neck to look at him, "Are you mad...?"

He shook his head. "Do you like this?"

At first, you didn't move, and he felt his heart falter. "I dunno," you confessed a moment later. "I feel like... Every person I meet, I keep comparing them to you. Like... Hannie would laugh at this joke. Or Hannie would think this. It's like... I can't get you out of my head."

His heart skipped a beat this time as he stared at you, his face growing redder by the second. "... Really?"

"I... I dunno. It's just--I don't want you to think I'm some sort of loser when we meet."

When. Not if. "So you want to find me?"

He saw the way you grew more flustered, eyes landing anywhere but him as you pushed yourself up so that you were sitting. "Yes. Are you mad?" You finally met his gaze. "I mean... I think I hurt you before. When I told you not to wait for me? And we never talked about it, so..."

Jeonghan set the flower crown into his lap, reaching out to cup your cheek. "I'm not mad," he said softly. "Not anymore."

"So you were mad."

He nodded a little after a moment. "At first..." He drew his hand back, shifting over so that he could sit closer to you. "At first I was hurt," he said, "because I thought you didn't want to find me. And... And I really wanted to kiss you, so I thought you were rejecting me, and.. I talked to my friends about it and they told me that it was alright to feel hurt, but that I was making assumptions about how you felt. So..." He dropped his hand down, pressing his palms into the grass. "How do you feel?"

"I've always wanted to meet you," you said outright. "But... I was talking to a few friends, and they kept asking questions about where you lived, and whether we'd get the chance to meet. It felt kinda mean," you moved closer, pressing your back against the tree, so that you could sit next to Jeonghan. "Like... They don't get a guarantee that they'll meet their soulmates. What makes us different?"

"Well, we know each other," he said, hand slipping into your own. "It's easier to accept things if you don't know your soulmate."

"I guess," you nodded along. "But... I dunno, it just made me anxious that we'd never be able to find each other."

"We will," Jeonghan said softly. "We'll make it work. I want to try."

Your hand curled around his, squeezing it tighter. "I want to try, too," you said, firm in what you were committing to. "Hannie?" You paused for a moment, "Jeonghan...? I want to be with you. I know we've never met in person, but can we...?"

He nodded. "Yes," he breathed out, reaching his other hand up to turn your face toward him. "May I...?"

You closed the distance between the two of you. It left him wondering if your lips would be this soft in reality. The last thing he heard was the sound of you saying his name, about to say something else when he found himself back in his couch, heart racing in his chest. He had jolted forward, fully awake out of nowhere, enough that it alerted Joshua and Seungcheol. The two were sitting at their little dinner table when they turned to see Jeonghan.

"... Bad dream?" Joshua called out.

Jeonghan just bolted to his bedroom, shutting himself in as he processed what all just happened. You kissed him. You wanted to be more. You wanted to find him.

And, fuck, he was going to do anything to find you now.

Most people gave Jeonghan weird looks when he explained his relationship to them. Yes, he hadn't met you in real life yet. No, it didn't really do anything to the relationship--it limited your dates, sure, but you had fun manipulating the dreamscape together to go wherever you wanted to go. Amusement parks with no waits for the rides, or this little cafe in your hometown, or a lovely park at night that Jeonghan walked through alone and wished you were there with him in reality. There were plenty of downsides, sure--neither of you could taste the food that you were eating, or feel the wind on your face--but you made it work and resolved to live these out once you found your way to each other. Sometimes people tried to challenge him: how could he have a relationship entirely with someone in his dreams? Didn't he miss the physical contact?

Which... The answer was a resounded 'yes,' but also it was none of their business. The two of you made it work, end of story. He'd eventually had a friend circle that accepted his relationship with his soulmate, although he'd become insistent that (when Seungkwan met his soulmate) his experience didn't count. That the two of you had agreed that your 'day one' of your relationship would be the day that you met face to face, just to make it easier to pin down a date. Everyone else had a date they could use as an anniversary, and you... Well, you and Jeonghan were different.

Although things had changed years later. All he knew at first was that he went to sleep one night, and you were there.

"... Jeonghan?"

And he'd stared at you, your name slipping from his mouth as he rushed over to you. "Are you sick again?" He frowned. "Honey, I wish I could be there to--"

"No, I... I moved. Remember?"

Right. You... You told him that you were moving for a job opportunity. It'd saddened him a little in the moment because both of you knew it'd make meeting harder, and yet all of that seemed to fade away in an instant.

"So you're...?" He didn't want to speak it aloud. What if it weren't true? What if...?

You nodded slowly. "I think... I'm closer," you said. "I'm in--"

The next few words seemed to dissolve into nothing, like his brain refused to register them. Jeonghan took your face into his hands, tears wetting his cheeks as he shook his head. Why can't it just work? Why can't their connection just let them have this now? You were closer to him. That should mean that the two of you can freely talk, and yet all he could hear was muffled words that he couldn't make out at all.

"We can't," he said, "we'll just... We'll have to find a way without saying names."

It broke his heart every time he saw you cry, and this time was worse. You nodded, though, hands coming up to hold his. "We'll find a way," you said. "Saturdays. I'll... I'll wait for you somewhere." Another name became muffled when you spoke it aloud, and you loudly swore as you broke away from him. "Coffee," you said, turning to him. "I'll... I'll always go to the same place near--" Again, your voice cut out. "Fuck--Just start looking, and--and we'll figure it out if it doesn't work."

"You'll stay there?" He watched you carefully. "All day?"

An eager nod, motivated by how close the two of you were now. "All day. Every Saturday until I find you."

And so it began.

Jeonghan... truly underestimated how many coffee places existed in this fucking city. But he went out every Saturday morning and spent hours upon hours searching for you. For months, that search came up empty. Joshua had offered to help, but Jeonghan turned both he and Seungcheol (and everyone, for that matter) down. He needed to find you himself. Maybe it was hubris, or maybe it was because he wanted to be the first one to meet you... He wasn't exactly sure anymore. A mix of both, perhaps. You could meet his friends in time, but Jeonghan didn't want anyone else to see you in person before he did. He'd known you this long. He'd been with you this long. He needed to be the first one to see you.

Three months ago, Chan met his soulmate. How much longer would it take for Jeonghan to find you? He approached the last place on his list for today, night having already fallen upon him. Maybe he'd change places with you, and have you running around looking for him. He'd try to pick somewhere more niche, though, just to make it easier on you. Jeonghan tucked his hands into his jacket pocket, staring down at his phone as he followed the directions to this place. It was a little out of the way, but maybe if he made it in time, he'd be able to swing by the bigger place not far from there. It closed earlier, sure, but it usually had way more foot traffic from what he could tell.

The thought that had been haunting him hit him again: would you even like him when you saw him in person? It'd been something stupid that popped into his head one Saturday a month ago, but it still shook him a little more than he expected. He'd seen you in so, so many dreams; he'd been with you, dating you, and yet it felt like there was a degree of separation. Those were his dreams with you, this was the real world where other people would get in the way. Where he couldn't just go to that cafe in your hometown with you, giggling about a silly joke one of you cracked, without having to travel to get there. He'd confessed his fears to Joshua once day, and Joshua had just stared at him.

"But you're in love with them."

"I know, but what if they don't love me once they see me?" Jeonghan had been curled up on Joshua's couch that night, a blanket draped around him. He toyed with the edge of it, fingers curling around the plush material. "It's different, I think."

Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god. You're so stupid."

"Hey--"

"Jeonghan." Joshua turned, entirely serious as he leaned in, "They love you, dumbass. I know your dreams are magical or whatever, but they still like being with you. You told me they trust you enough to cry on you and tell you about how bad work was, or about friend troubles, or enough to just say they need to cry because of stress. If things change when they see you, they weren't really in love with you. Dreams are whatever--you're still you."

Jeonghan had said nothing at first, letting the words sink in. Then when he looked up, he saw Joshua looking off into the distance, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "They're singing, aren't they?"

Joshua cracked a smile. Jeonghan knew him well enough. "It's quiet," he said, "but... Yeah. They are."

Jeonghan knew that while Joshua was the one who sang more often in his relationship, he truly loved whenever his soulmate would sing. He knew that Joshua had told them that, and they chose to indulge him in it a little more often. Jeonghan should take a video or a picture of this and send it to them: you broke your soulmate, btw, come get him. Then again... Joshua definitely had ammunition of his own. Videos of times where Jeonghan had woken up in a pleasant mood because he'd gone on a date with you yet again, always ending with Joshua telling the camera that he was ready for the two of you to meet already.

At the end of the street on the left. Jeonghan had begun to hurry at this point, already feeling his heart sinking in his chest. No. No, no, no, fuck--The lights were out, and no one was inside despite the website saying that this place stayed open for another two hours. There had been a piece of paper taped up on a window that said something about one of the coffee machines breaking down and causing a big enough mess that they'd have to close for the night. Shit. What if this had been the one? What if you were inside when the coffee machine broke, spraying hot coffee everywhere? What if you had been burned? Jeonghan wanted to kick himself for not getting here sooner, but he looked at the other shop that closed in less than ten minutes. Fuck. Next Saturday for sure. Maybe that would be the one.

He did what he always did. He called Joshua, and told him that, yet again, he had failed to find you.

"Aw. I'm sorry, dude," Joshua had said. "Are you sure you don't want us to help out?"

Before Jeonghan could respond, Seungcheol had spoken up, "We will! Just tell us where to go, and we'll find them. There's too many places for you to do it on your own. Stop being stubborn about this."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, glad that he had friends who cared so deeply about him. "No, it's fine. We'll find each other soon. I can feel it. We'll talk about it tonight and see if they can give me any details."

Of course, you hadn't before. Whatever was keeping the two of you from finding each other made sure of that. But they didn't need to know how many failed attempts Jeonghan had made at this point.

"Are you sure?" Seungcheol sighed. "I just don't want you to feel like you need to do this alone. We're all here for you. If you say the word to Seungkwan--"

Another warm chuckle. "He'll storm every shop himself," Jeonghan said. "That's why I haven't told anyone else yet. You know Mingyu would go out searching without telling any of us."

"You sound exhausted," Joshua spoke up after a moment. "Want one of us to pick you up?"

"I'll just take the bus. I think I'll plan my next move during the ride." Jeonghan tucked his other hand back into his pocket. He needed the time to lick his wounds and pick himself back up, too. "Maybe... I'll figure out a new plan."

"Just call me if you change your mind," Seungcheol said. "Get home safely."

"I will," Jeonghan said, and ended the call. He shoved his phone into his pocket, and let out a sigh.

Okay. Another failed Saturday. Jeonghan wouldn't lose hope, though: he'd find you soon enough. It wouldn't be as soon as he planned, but he would find you, and he would kiss you, and he'd never let anything tear the two of you apart like this ever again. Even with work trips and vacations and whatnot, Jeonghan would be happy to see your face again outside of his dreams.

The bus had slowed to a stop, and Jeonghan climbed on before taking a seat near the back. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by once the bus had lurched forward again. If the two of you could pick something less common, maybe you'd find one another sooner. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by as his eyelids began to droop. Next Saturday. He hugged himself tighter. Next Saturday would be the day. He had to find you then. Or maybe it was time to let his friends help him find you. What was the point of being stubborn about it all when he was taking away days he could be falling in love with you all over again?

"Hello...?"

He must have dozed off on the bus again, the sound of your voice making him open his eyes.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but when's your stop?"

You must have been teasing him again. "Wherever you want it to be," he said, the words rolling off his tongue as easily as they always do. It was always easy to say such things to you. He looked up, and pauses, mind fuzzy for a moment. "Sorry, I thought you were my..."

And then it's clear. There you stood in front of him, one hand gripping the seat next to him and the other on the one in front of it. Your eyes widened as realization hit you, and Jeonghan was already rising out of his seat. The bus driver yelled something back at the two of you, but Jeonghan wasn't listening. And it seemed like you weren't, either.

"Good morning, Hannie," you teased lightly, already smiling at him.

Jeonghan only leaned in, thrilled that you closed the distance between the two of you. He cupped your face in his hands, nose brushing against yours as he tasted something sweet on your lips. Tea, he thought, or maybe some sort of dessert involving matcha or something. Your body was warm underneath his touch and so much more real than he'd ever dreamed of. But what about you? Did he live up to your dreams?

"I love you," he said softly when he drew back. Emotions surged in his chest: relief, joy, love. The freedom of no longer having to search for you crashed over him in waves, and he felt himself tear up. He roughly wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling as he tried to hold back now. This wasn't how he wanted either of you to remember your first meeting, with him about to sob.

Yet all it took was seeing you cry for him to break, pulling you into his arms as he held you tight. The bus driver yelled back again, and he just reached back frantically, pressing the button to signal for the two of you to get off as soon as you could. And he left with you, hand in hand, as the two of you stepped out underneath the stars, already falling in love with one another all over again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

[wndaswife]

centre of attention | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Ex-wife of a church preacher and a member of a popular parent-teacher group, Wanda Maximoff is one of the town’s most infamous figures, but you soon learn that she is much more than she seems.

Word count: 13 783

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap, jealousy, allusions to slut-shaming, mentions of a gangbang, brief cunnilingus, strap-ons, fingering, brief masturbation, hair-pulling, spanking, degradation, mommy kink, power bottom!wanda maximoff. MINORS DNI.

gif credit to vanessacarlylse

Pitchy hums of singing cicadas greeted you the moment you drove into the small northern Californian town you were to spend the next few months in. 

None of it was really ideal for you’d wanted to land a placement as a teacher’s assistant at least somewhere in southern California as you’d lived in Los Angeles your whole life. But the moment you drove further into the town and saw groups of families walking hand-in-hand down the surprisingly-lively streets and children retiring towards their bus stops after their days at school, you knew your stay wouldn’t be as dull as you imagined.

The only thing that gave you pause was passing by the town’s local and only church that was as bustling with people as the schoolyard was.

What you could already tell was that the townspeople were certainly close-knit, valued their communities, and were a rather religious group of people.

In worrying about your interactions with the town’s church, you hadn’t meant to be crass, but rather sincerely concerned for the possibility that you might truly have found yourself stuck in a strictly old-fashioned and highly religious town hours away from Los Angeles for the next several months.

When you met with your assigned teacher and principal of the schoolhouse to go over some extra paperwork upon your arrival the next day, you met Agatha Harkness, a woman you immediately pinned as the town gossip. She was the vice-principal of the elementary school and she was quick and very kind to go over what you needed to know about the town you now resided in — which ended up being everything she knew from secret divorces to scandalous affairs.

Honestly, you were grateful for her warm welcome, even if the way you secretly mused at all of Agatha’s gossip would certainly be interpreted as rather unseemly for such a new resident of the town.

On Saturdays, the church held breakfasts after early-morning mass for there was also a specially-run youth program that was managed by the church every week on the same day. Eager to introduce you to some of the town’s families, some of whom were involved in the school’s particularly active parent-teacher group at school, Agatha took you to the breakfast.

As you expected, the spacious church basement where the breakfast was taking place was bustling. Families that crowded the buffet tables were dressed in their formal church attire, mothers with their hair done and husbands well-coiffed, and children in clothing that looked proper for the occasion though they were most definitely forced into them. 

“Oh, there’s Monica,” Agatha told you before calling the bright-faced woman over.

She greeted the vice-principal then turned to you and stuck out her hand with a large grin. “Hey there,” she beamed. 

“Hi,” you answered with a nervous smile, slightly intimidated by the crowd and in stunned admiration of the charming woman in front of you. You shook her hand. 

“Monica is likely the greatest science teacher one could ever have the pleasure of meeting in all of northern California,” Agatha said with confident sincerity.

The cheery brunette waved her hand at her dismissively. “Oh, please, Agatha,” she uttered bashfully. Then she turned to you with a smile. “Are you new to the church?”

“I just started my placement as a teacher’s assistant here for my teaching degree in LA,” you said.

With raised eyebrows and an intrigued nod, Monica replied and crossed her arms as if impressed, “Is that so? It’s been a good while since we’ve had visitors come up here, especially from the Valley.”

You’d been living in Los Angeles for so long that you hadn’t ever really considered how renowned it was in the more rural areas of California; even Agatha had been surprised when you’d told her where you were coming in from.

“I don’t mean to hold you up,” Monica told you. “Help yourself to any of the food.” She exchanged a few words with Agatha before you were led further into the large room, and for the next forty minutes you stood by Agatha’s side eating and being introduced to the local families.

To your dismay, Agatha excused herself for a moment to greet what looked like a family who’d just entered the dining hall. You were forced to stand alone by one of the tables, busying yourself by looking around and playing with the hem of your shirt in a desperate attempt not to look awkward or out of place.

When two young boys and their father approached the table you were leaning against, you quickly straightened and stepped back to allow them to pull out the chairs. 

You saw Agatha reapproaching when you turned around, but she was walking back with a woman you hadn’t yet met. She looked a few years younger than Agatha, but still older than you. Her hair was wrapped in a neat French twist, blonde strands that’d become loose from the hairstyle curling lightly around her face.

With her perfect done-up hair, the dark brown lip colour, a pair of black flats, and a dark green blouse tucked into black high-waisted straight-legged pants, she was a bit hard to take your eyes away from. 

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice what an obsessive idiot you must’ve looked like for she was busy balancing a few platefuls of food as she approached the table behind you with Agatha. She set the plates down for the young boys and the man you saw earlier, and you then realised that they were a family. 

“This is Y/N — who I was telling you about just a moment ago,” Agatha brought you into the conversation then stepped to your side, wrapping a supportive arm around your shoulders. 

The other woman she was with carefully placed the plates of food in front of who you supposed was her husband and children then straightened to look at you. She brushed the strands of her hair out of her face and smiled at you after taking a breath. 

“Wanda,” she introduced herself then extended her hand to you with a warm smile.

“Hi,” you replied then shook her hand. “Y/N.” You kicked yourself internally for bringing your name up again when you recalled that Agatha had just mentioned it. 

Wanda nodded then ran her palms down her hips. “So I’ve heard,” she said, a tinge of gaiety in her tone as her smile widened. “Are you starting your assistant position at the school on Monday?”

You nodded and attempted to return her smile though you were a little overwhelmed by the crowds of families you were currently standing in the middle of. Wanda caught onto the bashfulness of your tiny awkward smile and thought it was endearing.

“Well, don’t you worry. I think you’ll fit right in,” she reassured, the unbroken eye contact making you take a deep breath that you hoped wasn’t as obvious as it felt. 

Before you could answer, one of Wanda’s young sons tugged at his mother’s blouse and asked in an adorably mousy voice, “Momma, can I please get a ginger ale?”

“Of course, moya zvezda. But just a little,” she answered, reaching down to stroke her son’s chin with her fingers. Then she looked back up at you with a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N.”

You straightened and hoped you were only imagining the way you felt yourself blushing at her undivided attention. “L-Likewise, Mrs Maximoff,” you managed to say. 

It was just over a week until you saw Wanda Maximoff again, much to your disappointment. 

During the first week of your placement, you learned a whole lot of things. Firstly, dull heaps of information that you hadn’t said was anything but wholly interesting when the baker by your new place dumped years and years worth of the small town’s history on you when you were purchasing a loaf of rye bread, then more gossip shared with you from the teachers’ staff, suggestions for where the best hiking trails were around town which you happily utilised, and most importantly that there was a parent-teacher association that volunteered twice a week at the school.

At first that last bit seemed unimportant until you were given a sheet of the association’s members so you could familiarise yourself with them as you’d be seeing much of them throughout your time there, one of which was a familiar ‘Wanda Maximoff.’

Out of all the gossip Agatha had told you since you arrived, the resident she talked the least about was the one you were the most interested in. You supposed it was because they were close friends, and it would make sense that certain things about someone’s life — including their friends — were naturally private, even if not consciously.

But you didn’t think Agatha would mind if you asked about her, so you subtly brought her up while you were helping her clean up some of her things after school, a habit you picked up after the first time when you planned to go out for coffee together after work.

With the sheet of the members’ names in your hand, you asked Agatha as discreetly as you could, “Is, um, this the same Wanda I met on Saturday? At the breakfast?”

“Only one Wanda in this town, bumblebee,” Agatha replied and hung her purse from her shoulder. It was obvious she held her to a high regard, and that the two women were good friends. “Why do you ask?”

Continuing on with your goal to know more about Wanda, you answered, “I was just curious. I don’t know a lot about her compared to everyone else.”

“You’d like to know more?” she asked then led you out of her office, locking the door behind her. As the two of you walked out of school, she offered, “What would you like to know about her?”

The opportunity made you feel a little giddy as you recalled the image of Wanda when you met her earlier that week and thought of all the things you had been curious about since then. But you didn’t want to come off as obsessive or like you’d been thinking about her as much as you had, so instead you simply asked, “Were those her kids? The two young boys?”

Agatha nodded. “Tommy and Billy. They’re the sweetest four-year-old angels.”

The two of you approached her car and slid into your respective sides — Agatha in front of the wheel and you in the passenger’s seat.

“And that was her… husband with them?” you asked, buckling yourself in then tucking your hands under your knees.

“Her ex-husband,” Agatha corrected and started the car. “I don’t know if you’ve been to any of the masses, but Vision’s the church’s favourite preacher, so you’d see a lot of him if you attended regularly.”

So she wasn’t married. 

You recalled calling her ‘Mrs Maximoff’ the last time you saw her and you shrunk a little in your seat in embarrassment.

While you tried to imagine Wanda marrying and divorcing a church preacher, not that you knew much about her to begin with to have anything to imagine, Agatha added, “The divorce was, you know, as scandalous as you’d expect in a small town like this, especially given how important the church is here and that both Wanda and Vision are such well-known residents.”

That was the first time anyone had mentioned any sort of distaste for how traditional the town seemed to be and it felt like your first breath of relief, for you’d felt so different from the crowd here since you arrived.

The weight from your shoulders was lessened exponentially when she also said, “But this town is full of younger families of a different generation, and there were more who offered their support than not.

“Although age isn’t entirely indicative of beliefs, so there are still a few younger parents both in the congregation and the parent-teacher association who harbour some distaste towards Wanda and her personal life.”

Up until now, you hadn’t said very much besides uttering a few hums of affirmation and acknowledgement. 

“You alright over there, sweetie?” Agatha asked after not hearing your voice for a while. She looked over to you.

You nodded. “I’m okay. Just listening,” you told her with a reassuring smile.

She looked back to the road. “If you want to know more about her, I could give you her number and you could send her a message.”

A fervent blush formed on your face and you looked through the window to avert your face from Agatha. Something about being given Wanda’s number from someone else because they’d known you wanted to talk more with her made you feel awkward. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m sure I’ll… probably see her again.”

God, you felt like an idiot. 

No matter what you said, it felt like it was only becoming more glaringly obvious how much Wanda was on your mind. And with the two women being close friends, you could only imagine the things Agatha would tell her about how you were acting like a giddy little schoolgirl thinking about her. 

That was sort of what you felt like, anyways.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her we talked about her,” Agatha reassured and winked at you. “I know you’re a shy one.” 

You were grateful for that, but still pretty embarrassed.

Dottie was the first PTA member you had a real conversation with. It was on a Tuesday, and you were walking your class of twenty fourth-graders to the church alongside their teacher — you were assigned to assist Bruce Banner, an awkward but brilliant science teacher you came to enjoy the comfortable company of. A few times a month, students attended mass with enough time for the service before school ended, after which their parents would pick them up in front of the church.

You ended up sitting beside a blonde woman who immediately started a conversation with you when she recognised your face from the breakfast last week. After introducing yourself and mentioning a few of the people you’d met so far, Dottie seemed to perk up at the sound of Wanda’s name.

“Oh, that woman is trouble, Y/N,” she warned, her voice low as the two of you were still surrounded by churchgoers patiently waiting for the mass to start. 

Though you were well-aware of the things Agatha told you about Wanda and how she’d been interpreted by some people in town, you were curious to know pretty much anything about her. 

So you asked, “Why?”

Dottie turned her head to you so her chin was brushing her shoulder as she kept herself quiet when she said, “What kind of woman divorces a church preacher of her ex-husband’s regard?” She said it with a kind of humour and a small disbelieving scoff. “It just isn’t proper, especially not for a woman with children.”

Suddenly you felt pretty regretful for being so desperate to know things about Wanda, because now you were feeling rather offended and uncomfortable hearing the things Dottie was telling you, even if what she was saying wasn’t at all about you.

As if it couldn’t get worse, Dottie ducked her head and looked at you, uttering, “Have you caught word of her little… expeditions once she got her divorce finalised?”

You bit down along the side of your tongue with your molars and looked up at the altar, silently hoping that the mass would soon start, but the church chatter between students only continued as the congregation waited for the priest to step onto the podium.

“It was all rather hush-hush because of her…” Dottie trailed off with a disapproving shake of her head, seemingly feeling some contempt simply speaking of any form of esteem for Wanda. But she continued after readjusting herself on the pew, “Because of her standing in town.”

She quickly regained her confidence when she picked up her badmouthing of Wanda again. “Allegedly,” she said with a sly grin and a demeaning chuckle, “Wanda broke out into some sort of midlife crisis and had an affair with four younger men. Four men, one of her, one measly hotel room. I mean, we’re both adults here — you do the math.”

You stuttered out an awkward hum and turned your body subtly, making sure no one around was paying attention to your conversation. No one was. It seemed to you that Dottie’s words were a lot louder than they were due to their subject matter.

“Well… Wasn’t she divorced by then?” you asked.

Dottie laughed and waved her hand. “That’s as good as an affair, honey. Marriage is for life.” 

Then she placed a supportive hand on your knee that sent shivers up your arms before advising, “Besides, it’s good you know early which people to befriend and which to avoid, and Wanda Maximoff is nothing but trouble, junebug.”

Though the general consensus was that everyone liked her if not admired her, there were rumours of similar concerns about Wanda as she seemed to be much less of a conservative woman compared to the rest of the town. It wasn’t necessarily that every resident was a traditionalist, but that even those second to Wanda’s independence from the constricting life of an upper middle-class suburban housewife simply lacked the confidence only she seemed to have in choosing to live a life by her own freedoms and little else.

The rumour Dottie had told you was entirely true aside from the missing detail that her expedition — as she had put it — with the younger men could be accurately construed as a gangbang instead of an orgy or any form of tame sex. But Wanda was so cherished by her community that one would become instantly disliked if their suspicions of her scandalous life reflected in the way they came about interacting with her. 

Some were shocked and almost insulted that anyone could take such accusations about the most warm and charismatic woman in town so seriously, and others lacking in the confidence to outright say there was nothing wrong with a sexually-adventurous woman but nontraditionalists nonetheless would come to her defence albeit in slightly ambiguous ways.

Moreover, the men she’d fucked were so proud of their performances and achievements in sleeping with her that the most they did to indicate what had happened between them was walk with their chests out and chins tipped up in public, feeling proud of the accomplished little secrets they had with her. Sharing dirty secrets with a woman like Wanda, and keeping them secret, amounted to a lot more pride received than repeating what had happened in the shared hotel room that afternoon.

The mass was painfully dull and all you’d been able to think of the last few days was Wanda, and that afternoon was no exception. Your thoughts of her only intensified after your conversation with Dottie and to make matters worse, at one point when you looked around at the pews, you spotted that very woman on your mind sitting between her two sons at one of the seats lined up horizontally in front of one of the side staircases leading up to the altar.

With Dottie’s words still echoing in your mind, your thoughts then wandered to Wanda being fucked by a group of younger men, cum adorining whatever gorgeous body you knew she had under all her conservative clothing, fingers wrapped around erect cocks while she took another one down her throat and another fucking her ass, fingers pumping in and out of her wet pussy.

You felt terrible for having your mind travel there, so you looked away from her and readjusted yourself in your seat. But from the corner of your eye you noticed her tuck her hair behind her ear and fix the collar on one of her sons’ blouses. She caught your attention again.

By then it was hard to stop thinking about her, especially when you watched her whisper an inaudible forewarning to her other son that was getting particularly squirmy in his seat. You watched the parting and movement of her lips and you couldn’t help the way you imagined how she’d look with her lips wrapped around a strap fucking its way into her throat, your fingers buried in her soft hair.

Then you imagined unbuttoning her jeans and revealing her smooth legs, pulling her shirt off and uncovering perfect tits that made you shift uncomfortably when you envisioned burying your face in them and kissing up the soft swells, making Wanda moan and grip at your shoulders while your other hand groped one of her breasts.

When you began imagining the view of her sore red ass while you fucked her from behind — her head thrown back as she cried out in long groans and whimpers, her cunt constricting around your thick cock — you forced your thoughts to come to a full stop.

You felt like an awful person thinking such things anyways, for it somehow felt like you were taking advantage of her. Trying to pretend like Wanda wasn’t on your mind was practically impossible, so you just decided to focus on something else.

Wanda was wearing a cozy-looking brown knit pullover. From the angle of your spot on the pews, you could see she was wearing a pair of jeans and butterscotch ankle boots. She had her hair combed neatly and tucked behind her ears and with it let down this time, you could see that its length reached just above her shoulders.

For the most part, she paid attention to the sermons with a still expression unless she was tending to her sons’ squirming and playful whispers, a testament to the impatience of young children.

When another man stepped up to the microphone after the priest stepped down and took a seat, Dottie leaned to the side and whispered, “Wanda’s ex-husband.”

Your attention was suddenly piqued and you looked up at the man. He was slender and tall and had blonde brushed-back wavy hair that swooped around his clean-shaven face. He had a pair of aviator glasses perched on his straight and jutted nose, and he was dressed in a beige blazer, navy blue slacks, a knit vest that was a few shades darker, and underneath, a grey blouse with an orange tie.

By all accounts, he was a pretty decent-looking guy. 

His smooth and animated tone of voice that emanated through the church as he read a parable from a small leather-bound notebook made it clear that he was passionate about the church and his position there, and with his appearance that made him seem friendly and introspective, it was no wonder why Agatha had told you he was the church’s most popular preacher.

Wanda’s expression was ever-still and indifferent with no indication that she harboured any remaining emotional sentiments towards seeing her ex-husband in public nor any hint of being bitter towards him.

The service finally came to an end and it was then time to help the class line up by the church parking lot to have their parents pick them up. 

When you stood up, you looked for Wanda but lost sight of her in the crowds of people filing out of the church. So you said your goodbyes to Dottie and led the class out of the building and towards the parking lot with their teacher.

It was about thirty minutes later waiting by the church’s front doors when only three students remained to be picked up. One of the students’ mothers were engaged in conversation with Bruce, the remaining children were talking amongst themselves, and you were standing by the side, just waiting for the rest of them to get picked up so you could walk back to school with Banner.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger,” a voice spoke behind you. You turned to see Wanda smiling widely at you as she approached. She stopped in front of you and leaned her shoulder against the brick wall of the church. 

You smiled, feeling happy to see her. She really was charming, and so warm. “Hi,” you said. “Were you here for the service?”

Bruce glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he continued to talk with one of the students’ parents. He was glad you were getting along with people in town so well, and felt a little impressed that you seemed to be so friendly with Wanda so early into your stay. He was a shy and rather soft-spoken man, and the most he’d ever outwardly expressed his thoughts about Wanda was in the privacy of his wife's company. He had friendly feelings towards the renowned preacher’s ex-wife, and if the town had to be divided into groups, he’d certainly be categorised as a nontraditionalist.

Wanda replied, “Tommy and Billy’s father had a scripture reading today and he has them for the rest of the week, so I picked them up early after lunch to spend some time with them. I just said goodbye to them a few minutes ago.”

“About that…” you said and curled a lock of your hair between your fingers nervously. “I didn’t know you weren’t married last time we talked, and I shouldn’t have assumed…”

She ran her hand down your forearm, the one that was lifted so you could play with your hair. Her hand was so close to your face, and you caught a whiff of her perfume. “Oh, don’t worry about it, honey,” she reassured. “I completely understand, and you didn’t offend me.”

Wanda squeezed your forearm gently before her hand returned to her side. She straightened away from the wall and tucked her hair behind both ears. “Anyway, I saw you a bit ago and wanted to come up earlier, but I caught up chatting. I’m glad I could catch you.”

You fiddled with your fingers and perked up a little. “R… Really?”

Wanda hummed in what was either confirmation or amusement from your nervous response. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for coffee,” she offered. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot since we met on Saturday, and I’d love to get to know you more.”

“Today? Now?” you asked.

“If that works for you.”

“It does,” you told her cheerily. 

She nodded with a wide smile. “Alright then, great. I can wait until you’re done here.”

Bruce, as if partially-listening into the whole conversation, turned and told you, “You can leave early if you want, Y/N. Just waiting on two more students here, so it’s no big deal.”

You asked, “Are you sure?” 

He reassured you it would be fine, and you soon found yourself walking through the church parking lot to Wanda’s car. 

Since Agatha picked you up from home that morning, Wanda only had to stop at school so you could get your things from the classroom before the both of you were on your way back to her house.

Wanda’s house was just off the edge of town, surrounded by farmland. In spite of that, her house was rather modern and of contemporary architecture. A white-picket fence extended down the grove of trees that surrounded the long gravel driveway. From afar where her expansive backyard was visible, you could see a sizable in-ground pool and what looked like a tennis court beyond that. She parked her car in front of the dual parking garage and you looked through the car window at her house.

When the two of you stepped onto her porch, Wanda told you, “The property used to be mine and Vision’s, but after we divorced I kept it for myself and he moved into town.”

“It’s a really nice place,” you complimented as you followed her lead, placing your shoes by the door and setting your things down on the table in the foyer.

“Thank you,” she said, looking over her shoulder at you. “I’ll make us some coffee and I can give you a tour?”

You nodded and Wanda smiled at your leniency. She had you sit at the kitchen island counter while she made coffee with a pretty-looking French Press.

“So, darling, how are you liking it here so far?” she asked, setting up two mugs by the steeping coffee. She turned and leaned back against the counter, her hands resting against the edge. 

“I’ve really been enjoying myself,” you replied, sitting up in your chair.

Wanda appreciated your almost innocent enthusiasm as she regarded you with a smile. Then after a second, seemingly momentarily distracted by whatever was running through her mind as she stared at you, she inquired, “Have you made friends with anyone yet?”

“I talk to Agatha a lot, but this is my first time seeing anyone out of work or anything like that.”

There was a glint of pride in her smile when you said that as if she felt satisfied that she was the first person you were truly getting close with. It was almost territorial.

She turned back to the coffee once it finished steeping and you watched as she slowly pressed the top of it down, separating the grinds from the coffee. She poured it into both cups and discarded the grinds and rinsed out the press as the drinks took a moment to cool. 

“How do you take your coffee, sweetheart?” Wanda asked. It made you feel sorta giddy when she used those kinds of names on you. She then placed the mug in front of you when she made it how you liked it. 

As promised, she gave you a tour of the house which ended up feeling more like a casual stroll as you were outside with her more than not, walking the expanses of the tree groves out by the gardens and through her sizable backyard together.

You were largely an occasionally-stuttering and slightly-embarrassing mess with Wanda, but she didn’t seem to mind at all and led most of the conversation with you. In fact, she found your shy demeanour rather attractive, and she was delighted every time she caught you blushing or stumbling over your words.

Talking with her was so simple in spite of how awkward you felt, and if you didn’t have anything to say, it was just as easy to listen while she did the talking. She was different from other people you’d met thus far, because she was bold and not at all shy about being honest. She was adept in balancing the weight of being a single mother to two children while also being a leading figure in both the church community and in the school’s parent-teacher association. But she was also radiant and warm, and most especially, a huge tease.

When the topic of her divorce came up, Wanda made a joke about how her sex life with Vision was dull and how she’d been indulging in leaving her husband to get properly fucked months before the divorce papers were ever served, and though she did promptly say she was joking, you had an inkling that she was being at least partially honest. She made no further effort to convince you that she was simply jesting.

She then told you more seriously that her marriage with Vision had simply become less passionate over the years and that they confessed to each other that neither of them would feel particularly anguished if they ended up divorcing, which was reason enough without their other existing troubles. Essentially, their divorce was amicable and they still worked well enough together in order to raise their children.

Additionally, Wanda confirmed your impressions of her ex-husband from the service earlier, that he was the sensitive type who was reflective and intelligent. She told you she was impressed by how proficient you were in reading people.

The compliment flattered you, but you were secretly a bit insecure as you thought about her and Vision’s marriage. You knew fully well that they were divorced, but you couldn’t help comparing yourself to him and wondering if Wanda had a type — more precisely, if you were her type.

Another thing that you distinctly enjoyed about Wanda was that she was a very physical person. When she thought something was funny, she laughed in a rich way that crinkled the corners of her eyes and pulled her lips back into the prettiest of smiles. She touched you when she felt like it, without hesitation, running her hand down your arm or squeezing your shoulder. She was expressive with her body language and facial expressions and never made you feel for a moment that she was doing anything else but listening with undivided attention when you were speaking. She wasn’t very much withdrawn at all; she was a very sociable and confident woman.

“And you, Y/N?” she asked, placing both mugs, empty of coffee, into the sink once the two of you made it back into the kitchen. 

Wanda turned to you and leaned forward against the island counter you had sat back down at. Her hips were pressed against the edge of it and her forearms rested against the countertop, her hands folded in front of her. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows from earlier when the two of you had been walking out under the sun for a while.

You stuttered under her focused gaze, “M-Me? What about me?”

“Do you have a special someone?” she asked with a teasing little grin, resting her chin in her palm and looking straight at you. 

Discussing the topic of your love life with Wanda made you feel flustered and you looked away from her, fiddling with your fingers and looking down at your thumbs. “No, I don’t,” you answered.

“But you have someone in mind?” Wanda playfully pressed, raising her eyebrows at you curiously.

You looked back up and told her honestly, “Not really.” You attempted to be more honest with her given that she’d been so open and warm with you. “I haven’t had much of a chance to meet anyone.”

She straightened and ran her hands flat down against the counter. “Oh?” she questioned. “But you’re such a sweet girl.” Wanda rounded the island counter until she was standing behind you and laid her hands on your shoulders. “I figured that you would’ve had boys all over you, honey,” she whispered.

You knew she was teasing, or at least that was what you kept telling yourself when you found yourself slightly overwhelmed and rather overheated with Wanda’s hands on your shoulders, her thumbs slowly sliding up the sides of your neck.

“I’m just poking fun at you, sweetness,” Wanda giggled and squeezed your shoulder before stepping away from you. She walked out of the kitchen momentarily and came back with her purse. She laid it down on the counter and pulled her phone out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I let the time get away from me,” she apologised. “I have to meet Vision and the kids for dinner in about an hour.”

To avoid thinking of Wanda getting all ready and dressed-up to see Vision, although it was for a dinner with Tommy and Billy, you stood up from your seat and answered, “It’s no problem at all. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you more. And the coffee was really great. Thank you.”

Wanda led you to the door, a gentle hand on your lower back. “I’d love to have you over again,” she told you. Her hand slid up your back, making you straighten immediately before she took her hand away from you to unlock the front door.

Though you looked away to hide the way your cheeks flushed at the contact, Wanda caught sight of your embarrassed expression and felt a flurry of adoration for you.

After saying goodbye to each other, Wanda called you back before you could step off her porch. “Would you be able to put your number in my phone?” she asked, holding her cellphone out to you.

Sounding a little too excited, you walked back over to her and answered, “Sure!”

For the next little while since you exchanged numbers that late afternoon, you’d had a few conversations with Wanda over text message. She was a busy woman though; she was always the most free to talk in the evening or rather early in the morning when you weren’t often awake. 

You talked a lot about Tommy and Billy, your assistant position and how you’d been finding things, what Wanda did on a day-to-day basis, and a few other leisurely things when you both had time to discuss things like recent movies and favourite books. 

It was incredible what Wanda took on in a day. Sometimes she was organising the youth church events or in meetings with the parent-teacher association — during which you sometimes passed the meeting rooms they were in, but never got the chance to see her because they were always so busy. 

She went out of town a few days a week for any sports or clubs either of her sons were in outside of school as there wasn’t much availability regarding extracurriculars in town, which was also something she’d been trying to bring up to the municipality.

If she didn’t have to tend to the PTA, the church, or her sons, she had errands. She was always doing something from dropping something off at someone’s place to picking something up, going out of town to get something fixed, or doing one thing or another for someone else.

She always apologised for it as she’d told you that she wished she had more time to talk with you or at least be able to make a plan to get lunch together.

Though you also desperately wished to see her again, you didn’t mind at all. In a way, you really admired her drive and how capable she was, and  how readily available she was to those who needed her while also being the most friendly and warm woman in town. 

Plans to see each other again either fell through or never had the chance to be made for the both of you were beginning to have busier schedules. 

Wanda was virtually always busy, but for you, since the season had begun to reach some of its warmest temperatures, there were more school events being organised from field trips to sports’ days which took up a majority of your time as you planned with Banner both during and out of class. 

The next time you saw Wanda in person was on a Thursday, nearly three weeks since you had coffee with her. But in spite of that, you felt a lot more excited than the last time, for you now had three more week’s worth of having been able to get to know her. In fact, you were almost certain Wanda considered you a friend.

She was friendly with a lot of people. Nearly everyone in town knew her and held her in high regard. She’d take on extra work just to cover for a committee member who couldn’t make a meeting or cut an off-day short to do errands for anyone who’d ask her to, but from what you knew, she was only really friends with Agatha.

And now, you hoped she felt she was friends with you too.

Today was one of the hottest days of the season so far and also the day of the biggest school event. In association with the church, the sports festival equally divided their earnings from the festival and put it towards the school, church, and municipal government. 

It was perhaps one of the biggest events in town for local businesses would also set up their stands and sell their products and services, and along with the carnival games and freshly-cooked food that stretched all the way down the expanse of Main Street under the sunny warmth of a budding summer, the festival was an attraction that had the small Californian town bustling with both locals and tourists alike.

Needless to say, the planning for the festival was extensive and it was one of the primary reasons both you and Wanda had become so busy over the last few weeks, planning completely different portions of the festival at the same time.

The festival was teeming with families and couples and it reminded you a lot of home; you felt a bit nostalgic. But mostly, you felt proud for having taken part in such a successful turnout. You looked around at the game and food concessions and small-business booths that extended down the long stretch of the lively street. 

On one side of the street, a grassy clearing with a large playground and plenty of picnic tables served as a seating area, mostly. People ate and chatted with one another, watched their children as they swung around on the playground, and were overall just enjoying spending such a cherished event under the sun in the charming town. 

Some that occupied the grassy plain were sprawled out under the sunny green expanse, some were sitting together with loved ones on picnic blankets they’d brought, and some, including a familiar woman sitting with a group of less-familiar women, were sitting at the picnic tables.

You approached the table of women after spotting Wanda and saw that her hair was tied back and that she was wearing jean shorts that revealed smooth legs, tennis shoes, and a white blouse that she had rolled up to her elbows.

By the time you’d gotten to the picnic table you felt a bit regretful, for you didn’t know any of the other women she was sitting with and you felt rather awkward walking up to the group of women, some of whom were sitting with their husbands.

But Wanda had already caught sight of you. She turned when you came into her peripheral and called out your name cheerfully, waving you over so you really couldn’t walk back now.

She stood from her seat and wrapped an arm around you. “Hi,” she then said after pulling away from the embrace to meet your eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah, it’s been pretty nice,” you answered. 

Her eyes ran over your face for a moment longer before she stepped back and allowed the rest of the picnic table to see you. With her hand resting on your shoulder, she introduced, “This is Y/N. She’s moved here from Los Angeles for the time being to work on her teaching degree.”

While you and the table exchanged hellos with each other, Wanda turned to you and said, “This is the school’s PTA. Most of it.”

Then she offered, “Why don’t you come and sit here with us, honey?” She sat back down and moved over to the side, one hand on the empty space beside her. 

You quickly looked over the picnic table of couples and single mothers as they’d resumed their conversations, then over at the empty spot. 

“Oh… Well, I wouldn’t want to bother any of you, and I think Vision is around here somewhere looking for a seat,” you answered and looked around for him. 

Wanda then stood from her seat again, enough to be able to reach over to you and take your hand. “Nonsense, darling. Come here,” she told you. She pulled you to the table and took the small plate of food from your hand before setting it down on the table. She sat you down beside her.

Discussion around the picnic table continued and Wanda poured you a glass of water from the pitcher at the middle of the table. You smiled gratefully at her and she was quickly reined back into the table’s conversation.

Unsurprisingly, she was pretty talkative with the table. You’d known how open and social Wanda was, you’d seen it yourself, but you hadn’t seen her interact with other people yet. 

She was as charismatic as ever. She told jokes that everyone laughed at, and when she spoke, everyone at the table listened with their full attention. She was actively part of every conversation that took place between the table of mothers and their husbands. 

It was comforting in a way, because with Wanda leading every conversation, you didn’t have to feel pressured to do anything but sit beside her and listen to everyone talk. You spoke when you were spoken to and felt completely content sitting beside Wanda, eating your food and occasionally participating in discussion. 

Wanda was rather happy to have you sitting beside her. She looked at you with an adoring smile every time you answered a question or voiced your opinions on something, and she rewarded you by running her hand down your back or squeezing your shoulder, and a few times, she even grazed the back of her fingers against your thigh. 

A voice called your name from behind and you turned to see Bruce waving you over. You stood from your seat and Wanda looked up at you.

“Come right back when you’re done, honey,” she told you.

You promised you would, then threw out your empty plate of food to head over to Banner.

From the picnic table, Wanda eyed you as you dashed around doing favour to favour, first starting with you being asked to bring back some papers from the classroom, which was only just down the road. She was eager to have you back the moment you handed Bruce his paperwork, but you were soon caught up being asked to run around only further by people who suddenly needed your help, from parents who wanted to talk with you to being asked to fetch things from inside the church.

“Wanda?” a woman at the table said, trying to get her attention. She waved her hand in front of her face and Wanda looked away from you, blinking out of her concentration.

With a superficial laugh, she replied, “Sorry. I must have zoned out there.”

Tommy and Billy came from playing carnival games with their father to settle down for a moment and sit on their mother’s lap. With her arms wrapped around her twins’ waists securely as they drank from her cup of water and ate from her plate, they told her how eventful their day had been and that soon their father would let them help one of his friends run his game booth.

After filling their bellies and hydrating themselves, they slid off of their mother’s lap and were nearly about to run back to Vision before Wanda took hold of their wrists and had them stand still while she reapplied their sunscreen in spite of their whines.

When she was finished, they ran back over to Vision and were practically hopping around anticipating the chance to help with the ring game.

Later, Monica came up to Wanda and tapped her on the shoulder. She was holding a clipboard in her arm and looking a tad flustered. “I’m so sorry to ask this of you, Wanda, but one of the booths are about to run right out of food, and normally we’d just have them close for the day but there’s a line for it right down the street, and—”

“I understand,” Wanda interrupted her frazzled rambling with a warm smile and stood from the picnic table. “What do you want me to do?” she asked with a supportive hand on the brunette’s upper arm.

“Oh, thank you.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “There’s a rice cooker and a few vegetables they need diced in the church basement’s kitchen. Would you be able to cut a few of them and get some rice going? That’s all, and I’ll be down in a little to bring it out for them.”

Wanda nodded and squeezed her arm gently. “Of course,” she said and reassured Monica again when she was a flurry of apologies again. She excused herself from the table and walked over to the church, which was just across the road. 

As she walked, she looked for you, hoping that perhaps she could get you for herself, even if that meant just dicing some vegetables in a church basement.

When she caught sight of you with a particular blonde standing by an inflatable bouncy house Dottie was put in charge of to watch the kids, Wanda felt a wave of scorn come over her. She watched from the church steps as you conversed with Dottie, the wide grin on her lips as she discussed God knows what with you.

What business could she possibly have with you?

Did she even have anything interesting or intelligent to say, anything that warranted the friendly smile that formed on your lips as you spoke with her?

Dottie never liked Wanda, which never concerned her too much until she began to question what kinds of things Dottie must’ve said about her to you. Wanda was self-assured in her reputation and confident in the relationship she’d developed with you, but the image she created in her head of the blonde’s snarky little smirk as she got in close to you made Wanda’s blood boil.

It’d been hard to make plans with you for the past few weeks and Wanda couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d seen Dottie, and for the first time, Wanda felt strongly remorseful for how much time she put into things other than her personal life.

Have you ever visited her house for coffee? 

Did you have her number too?

Tearing her eyes away from the two of you, Wanda continued up the stairs and into the church, where she felt her teeth clenching tight against each other in irritation. She headed downstairs and into the kitchen where she took out the refrigerated vegetables and set them out on a cutting board. 

Then she looked through the cabinets for the rice cooker and immediately became increasingly vexed when she couldn’t find it. She knelt down by the bottom of the shelves where a mess of boxes and tupperware made it impossible to find the rice cooker if it were hiding there on the shelves somewhere.

Unbeknownst to her, Agatha had come in following behind her when she saw Wanda heading into the church in hopes of finally taking some time to catch up with her friend. When she went into the basement, she saw Wanda crouching down beside one of the kitchen cabinets, arms deep in a clutter of plastic tupperware and storage boxes.

She was making quite a mess, chaotically sorting through the cabinets with less of an intention to find whatever she was looking for and instead with the intention of simply taking out some form of anger on the poor boxes of plastic spoons and serving napkins.

“I can’t find this goddamned rice cooker,” Wanda hissed when she saw Agatha standing by the kitchen door frame. 

“Cursing the name of the Lord in a church,” Agatha said in feigned disapproval then whistled.

Looking over her shoulder, Wanda shot her friend a poisonous glare then went back to searching for the rice cooker. After a moment, she stood up and slammed the cabinet door shut. “It’s not in here,” she snapped and brought a hand up to her forehead as she sighed out.

“I’ll look. Just cut the vegetables,” Agatha told her and looked through the kitchen while Wanda began rinsing the vegetables. She had no luck with finding the rice cooker either.

From behind her, Wanda was dicing a carrot slice especially aggressively and Agatha turned to see it practically diced to a sad little orange paste. “Honey…” Agatha muttered, leaning against the counter and staring at her. Wanda didn’t respond as she continued to dice the carrot slice into mush. “Wanda.”

She snapped her head up and bit, “What?”

Agatha pointed at the half-paste, half-solid pile of carrot. “I think you got it,” she said, her nose scrunched up. 

Wanda looked down at it as if really seeing it for the first time then flicked it off the cutting board and into the sink. She continued dicing the rest of the carrot.

“Something on your mind, sweetpea?” the brunette asked and pulled off a bit of washed broccoli from its head before sticking it in her mouth.

“No.”

Agatha hummed, unconvinced. She continued to watch Wanda dice up the carrots and move onto the bell peppers with startling focus as if she was revenge-chopping the poor things. Then, feeling the need to tease her, she said, “I saw Y/N and Dottie talking outside.”

Wanda visibly bristled and she cut down particularly hard on a slice of yellow pepper so the edge of the knife met loudly with the plastic cutting board. “Did you now?” she asked with a steady voice.

“Have you gotten a chance to speak with her today?” 

“I did.”

“And?”

“And what?” she asked and looked up from the cutting board.

Slightly amused by seeing her friend so occupied by the thought of someone, Agatha admitted, “I was just wondering, because a few days ago Y/N asked how you were doing.”

“She did?” she inquired, untensing for a moment. Then she looked back down to the bell peppers and continued slicing them. “And what did you say?”

Agatha replied, “I said that you’d been busy. She said that she’d been texting with you but she wanted to know how you were.”

After some silence, Wanda asked, “Has she ever asked you about Dottie?” 

It’d been such a long time since she’s seen Wanda behave like this. Repressing a little laugh but not being able to hide her grin, Agatha insisted, “You’re jealous.”

With a scoff and a mockingly amused smile, Wanda replied, “I am not jealous.” Then after a moment she added, “Who would I be jealous of? Dottie? Please.”

“I’d understand if you were. They seem to be quite close.”

At that, Wanda visibly tensed and set the knife down before saying, “How about you pick things up here, and I’ll head back home to fetch a rice cooker? I think I have one in my kitchen.”

It was more of an instruction than a suggestion, for she immediately rounded Agatha before waiting for her response and stormed out of the basement and out of the building.

When Wanda stepped outside, you were no longer standing around with Dottie but instead chatting with one of the teachers from the school’s staff. But Wanda was impatient and now set aflame by Agatha’s purposefully-baiting words, and she walked towards you until she could place a hand against your lower back.

“Hi, honey,” Wanda greeted with a soft smile when you turned your head to look at her. She looked over to Pepper, who you were in the middle of a conversation with. “I apologise, but I have to steal her away from you. I’m afraid I need Y/N’s assistance with something.”

Pepper was more than understanding and bid you a goodbye before Wanda circled her hand around to your hip, bringing you against her.

“Busy, are we?” she asked, looking at you as the two of you headed down the sidewalk to where Wanda’s car was parked.

Not picking up on what she was implying, you replied with a smile, “Not too busy, so I can help you. Where are we going?”

“Back to my place. There’s a rice cooker I need to pick up for the church and I need someone to help me look,” Wanda answered and let go of you to round the car and unlock the doors. She slid into the driver’s seat.

You buckled yourself into the passenger’s seat and immediately felt more comfortable having a break from the bustling crowds of people. And you were finally able to spend some time with Wanda again. 

“Let me get you a drink,” Wanda offered when arrived at her house and passed by her kitchen. “It’s hot out there.”

You didn’t decline, for when you ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth you realised how thirsty you were, especially after doing not much else but talking with people the whole time.

While Wanda poured what looked like homemade lemonade into a glass, she said, “I wasn’t aware that you were so popular, Y/N.”

You looked up, but her eyes were focused on the pitcher of lemonade. “I’m not popular,” you said, laughing a little at the mere suggestion. You stepped into the kitchen in front of the island counter where Wanda was pouring your drink.

“No?” She looked up from the glass and set the pitcher down. She chuckled a little and did away with your suspicions that she was upset with you. “It looked like everyone was lining up just to talk with you.” She slid your glass of lemonade over to you. “You didn’t notice?”

“I, um… Well, I guess not.”

Pleased with your simplicity, Wanda leaned against the counter and rested her cheek against the heel of her hand. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” she reassured and watched you take a drink of the lemonade, her eyes focused on the way your lips parted around the rim of the glass. She felt far more comfortable than she was before now that she was alone with you, having you to herself and not having to worry about the next time you might be stolen away from her.

After a few moments of watching how cute you looked sitting at the island complimenting how good her homemade lemonade was, Wanda said, “Shall we start looking for the rice cooker? I believe it’s in the storage closet.” 

You set the glass down and Wanda led you forward to the storage closet, which was just by the doorframe of the entrance to the kitchen. You searched through it then crouched down to start digging through the set of boxes on the floor.

Wanda’s phone buzzed with a text and she turned to take her phone out of her purse on top of the kitchen counter. The text was from Monica that read: ‘Agatha and I found the rice cooker!! I’m so sorry that you had to drive all the way back home.’

Keeping her expression still, she tucked her phone back into her purse then turned to you as you continued to dig through the lowest shelf of the storage closet. Her eyes were trained on your ass as you had your back turned to her unassumingly. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, watching you from behind.

“I found it!” you said and carefully manoeuvred a box out from the back of the closet. The rice cooker was still in its box, likely having been used about a handful of times since it was purchased. 

To Wanda’s dismay, you stood back up and closed the closet door. But when you turned around with the most eager little smile on your face from having found what she was looking for, she felt warmed.

“Thank you, honey,” Wanda cooed and took the box from you. She set it down onto the kitchen counter by her purse. She turned back around and her breath hitched when she felt herself fueled with a twinge of adrenaline at the sight of you. 

After weeks of being away from you and a chaotic day of watching you talk with nearly everyone else but her, Wanda reached out and wrapped her fingers around the corner of your shirt, gently tugging you towards her.

Your face flushed and you looked away from her, but the closer she brought you, the more difficult it became to do anything but look into her eyes that were trained on your face.

“Y/N, there is something I’ve been meaning to give you. It’s upstairs,” she whispered when you were close enough to hear the quiet hush of her voice. The tip of her tongue peeked out when she ran it across her bottom lip and she asked, “Would you mind coming up with me?”

You swallowed and felt yourself nodding, but you weren’t entirely sure if you really did nod or if you just imagined it; you sort of felt a bit lightheaded.

A ghost of a smirk formed on Wanda’s lips and she let go of your shirt before she led you towards the staircase and up to the second level of the house.

Your heart began beating faster in your chest as you continued to follow behind her nervously. You hesitated a moment when Wanda opened her bedroom door and stepped in, but eventually you forced yourself forward and followed her to the closed closet.

She turned around suddenly and asked, “Can I ask you a question, Y/N?”

“S-Sure,” you stuttered, feeling out of place.

Wanda stepped forward so her face was just inches in front of yours. “Have you ever been with a woman before, sweetheart?”

You felt no need to lie, and you felt no need to be embarrassed around Wanda although you felt that your face was warm and flushed.

When you nodded, Wanda added, “More than once?” She seemed increasingly interested at your second nod as she raised her eyebrows in piqued interest, a small intrigued smirk forming on her lips. 

“You enjoyed yourself?” she asked, now overtly teasing you as her fingers ran down the collar of your shirt. 

You nodded once more, and she was appreciative of your willingness to answer her questions with little hesitation. Then her eyes flickered up from your shirt to your face, curious juniper irises sinking into your focus. “And men?” she inquired with a slight tip of her head. 

This time you shook your head and Wanda’s breath seemed to hitch, her interest now at an all-time high. 

Her fingers tightened around the collar of your shirt and she pulled you towards her, crushing your lips against hers. She was quick to take control of the kiss and tip her head to the side. Her hand let go of your shirt and she wrapped her fingers around the back of your neck, releasing a soft moan in the form of a warm exhale into your open mouth.

She pulled you backwards with her as she reached for the knob of her closet door. She opened it and pulled you in then momentarily disconnected from your lips to search for something. 

You were distracted by the sight of her lips that were parted to allow her to pant softly. You leaned forward and pressed kisses up her neck, causing Wanda to stumble back slightly and hum out with pleasured appreciation. Her fingers ran up the back of your head and were interlaced with your hair, encouraging you to continue kissing her neck.

Her head pulled back enough to uncover your eyes and she lifted an all-black silicone cock already attached to its harness up to your face. Your eyes widened at the sight of the toy and Wanda leaned down to press her lips against your ear so she could whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

When she read in your expression that you were more nervous than shocked that Wanda had brought the topic up to you, she reassured, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, honey.”

“B-But I want…” You raised your head and looked at her with a determined look in your eyes. “I want to. I want to make you feel good.” 

Wanda grinned and she kissed you. “That’s sweet of you, but I want you to enjoy yourself too. We can go as slow or fast as you’d like. How about you start whatever speed you’re comfortable with, hm? And we can work from there.”

“I know you’ve had better…” you said quietly, bouts of your insecurity evident in your soft, unsure tone of voice. Though you didn’t explicitly mention it, the both of you knew exactly what you were referencing. 

Wanda wasn’t surprised and instead just grinned and asked in a teasing way, “Who told you about that?” 

You looked away, embarrassed. You hadn’t meant to bring it up. 

She leaned forward and kissed the corner of your mouth before grinning against it and saying, “Does that make you jealous?” She was looking up at you mischievously. Then you look away again, the other way so she disconnected from the corner of your lips.

Wanda walked forward so you were forced to walk back out of the closet and into her bedroom again. She closed the closet door behind her and nudged you backwards so you were forced to sit at the edge of her bed. She placed the strap down by your hip.

“Does that interest you?” she asked and began to unbutton her blouse as she looked down at you sitting on her bed with the most innocent little eyes. “Thinking about how I had a cock shoved down my throat while I jerked two more off with my hands, watching them stroke their dicks to how I was getting my ass fucked underneath them, cum in my hair and on my tits, being violated by all those braindead men just so I could get off until I was — almost — just as fucked stupid as they were.”

She giggled when you were in a deep stupor, eyes following her fingers and listening to her every word. She slipped her blouse off her shoulders and let it slip to the bedroom floor before working on her shorts, unbuttoning the top then unzipping it, revealing a maroon pair of panties that matched her bra.

“Well, you don’t have to think about that anymore,” she said when she was now only in her lingerie. She held your chin in her hands and tipped your head up to look at her. She stepped forward between your legs so your face was perhaps only an inch or two away from her tits. “Because what’ll be far more interesting is what I’m going to do with you.”

Wanda leaned down and kissed you, and with her other hand, began undressing you. You helped her and she couldn’t help but blush seeing how eager you were to have sex with her. She kissed down your body as she continued to undress your body. 

“Besides, honey, it’s different,” she muttered against your shoulder as she kissed up to your neck. “It matters to me who I’m having sex with. Sex isn’t just a thing you do. It’s more than that. It’s about connection and passion, though sometimes it can be purely shallow. Like it was that time.

“But it’s far sexier doing it with someone you connect with. Don’t you feel the same?” 

You met her eyes when she lifted her head, her hair coming loose from the hair tie that had been holding it back neatly through the day. “I agree,” you said to her.

Though you spoke little sometimes, overtaken by feelings of nerves and overwhelming libido, Wanda understood you completely. She liked how soft-spoken and sensitive you were. She couldn’t wait to have someone so delicate and gentle rough-fuck her from behind. How terribly she wanted to have you moan in her ear, telling her how much you loved her pussy.

She ran her hands up your sides, caressing your body with gentle admiration and affection. She kissed the swells of your breasts. “You’re such a sweet girl, Y/N,” she cooed and stood up once she fastened the harness around your hips. She brought your head against her chest and kissed your temple. She was so affectionate and was full of so much passion. Her touches were so soft as she led you further up onto the bed and climbed on top of you. Her hands rounded her body and she unclipped her bra so she could discard it onto the floor. 

“Wanda, you’re so gorgeous,” you uttered as you ran your eyes up her body.

She allowed herself only a moment or two to blush at your compliment before she ran her palms up your chest and rubbed her still-clothed centre against your cock. “Are you just going to lay there and talk about it the whole time?” she questioned.

You gripped her hips harshly and pulled her down onto you so you could reach her lips and kiss them. Your hands adjusted their positions and you flipped her around and got on top of her, eliciting a tiny giggle from the older woman.

Moving down her body, you gently flicked your tongue across one of her erect nipples before you suddenly bit down on it, causing her to yelp and reach up to cradle the back of your head. You kissed the plain of her stomach, nipping at the soft flesh and running a flattened tongue over the stretch marks over her hips. She made a noise of appreciation and continued petting your head, watching you cover her body in your delicate traces of adoration.

Her hand moved to the side of your face and lifted your head, allowing her to turn onto her stomach and lift herself onto her elbows. When you straightened onto your knees, she lifted her ass into the air and pressed back against your strap.

Wordlessly, Wanda looked back at you over her shoulder with eyes that dared you to go further and an ass that stroked the length of your cock in the most mesmerising way you’d ever seen. 

With shaky fingers, you pulled her panties to the side and found her wet cunt sticking to the fabric, pink folds glistening and sticking out from between gorgeous smooth thighs. Not being able to help yourself, you leaned down and ran your tongue through her pussy, making Wanda shudder. She tasted unbelievably good. 

Your own cunt throbbed and you knew you had to do more. You parted from her sticky mess and pressed a kiss to the hood of her clit before straightening again.

Wanda hastily dug through the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a clear bottle then reached back and handed it to you. Quickly, you squirted the lube into your hand then lathered your cock in it. Wanda took the bottle back and discarded it somewhere on the bed, uncaring of where it ended up for the time being. 

She whimpered when you ran the length of your cock along her cunt, especially when you took her folds between your thumb and forefinger and ran it right through. The lubed strap slid beautifully across the delicate pink and Wanda felt herself trickle down onto her throbbing clit.

Wanda encouraged, “Don’t rush if you don’t want to. That makes me feel really good.” 

Her panties threatened to slip back into place and you became impatient and pulled back a bit, tugging her panties down her thighs and from her ankles.

“Someone’s impa–” Wanda was cut off suddenly when you shoved your cock into her without warning, making her gasp and flinch forward, eyes squeezed shut as she was forced to adjust to your size. It didn’t help that you immediately began thrusting into her, making Wanda nearly lose her balance and fall forward. But she kept herself up with her ass in the air for you. 

She didn’t have time to think of how shocking it was that such a quiet and docile girl like you had such fire brewing within her, for she was immediately overtaken by her desire. 

“Pull my hair,” she instructed between groans and you obliged, reaching forward and taking a handful of her shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. “Tighter,” she said, and you tightened your fingers into a stern fist, pulling Wanda backwards and watching as her back curved into a beautiful arch.

“Oh, that’s right, Y/N!” she yelped as you quickened your hips against her. “Perfect.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as you watched her ass redden and bounce from the harshness of your thrusts. 

Wanda reached back to get your attention. “Spank me,” she told you.

Following her instruction, you brought your hand up and back down to deliver a harsh spank to her ass. You truly couldn’t believe the effect it had on her. She lost balance and laid flat against the bed, her arms being unable to hold herself up as she squealed out. 

You spanked her repeatedly like she wanted, each time eliciting a tiny whimper from her with half her face buried in her blankets. You pulled your cock out of her and rubbed her throbbing clit with the pads of your fingers. She groaned when you left her and she looked back at you, watching as your eyes ran over her pussy. 

Her cunt was swollen and so beautiful, the trimmed tuft of dark hair and the shade of soft pink glistening from the juices dripping from her hole that squeezed around nothing, desperate for more of your cock. 

Her pussy was so, so perfect.

“Y/N,” Wanda said, speaking with a gentle rasp to her voice. “I can only be patient for so long. I need your cock.” She said it with a soft smile on her lips, and although her shoulder partially-shrouded it, you could see her cheeks were tinted a soft pink as she’d watched you look her over with such overwhelming admiration. 

You pressed a kiss to her opening then straightened back up, repositioning yourself against her. You were distracted momentarily when you looked down and saw her looking up at you, green eyes still so full of appreciation for you. 

Then suddenly she repositioned herself and turned onto her back. She sat up for a second and wrapped her arms around your waist before pulling you down onto her. Her lips met yours in a gentle, passionate kiss.

Wanda was amused by how distracted you were by her and she kissed your cheek while she reached down and entered your cock into her opening herself. Her legs wrapped around your hips and she tightened them around you, moaning into your ear as you slowly entered her again.

“Say that I’m a desperate slut who loves to get fucked.”

“W-Wanda,” you panted. “You’re a desperate slut that wants nothing but to get her pussy fucked.”

“That’s right,” she purred, her thighs tightening around your hips. “Mommy’s just a dirty bitch who’s nothing without a cock filling up her filthy fuckholes. Ah… Don’t you like that, Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on fucking her how she liked, and a part of you almost felt bad for the way she degraded herself for no other lover you’d ever had has ever spoken like that. But fuck, Wanda was right — it was hot. 

“I-I like that, mommy,” you confessed.

“Oh, I know you do.” She pet the back of your head. “Make mommy come, angel. I’ve had such a hard last few weeks, baby. Doesn’t mommy deserve to feel good? She does, doesn’t she?”

You opened your eyes and nodded, the sincerity in your eyes as you agreed that Wanda needed to feel good after the last few weeks making her melt. “I wanna make mommy feel good…” you mumbled. “Make mommy come.”

Wanda groped her breast then twisted her nipple between her fingers. You leaned down and wrapped your lips around her other hardened bud, making her moan out and arch her back up against your body.

Feeling her lower stomach tighten with a familiar, beloved pressure, Wanda wrapped her legs around your firmly and crossed her ankles against your lower back. She manually fucked herself up against you, bringing her hips up and meeting yours repeatedly in desperation. It was a messy out-of-sync attempt at first as you continued to thrust into her, but the both of you soon found a rhythm with Wanda fucking herself and you pounding her back into her bed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she mewled into your ear. “I’m–”

She was cut off when her orgasm was wrenched out of her, and she arched her back up and clung onto you, her arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close. Her fingernails scratched down your back and she cried out loudly, throwing her head back and exposing her neck.

You released her nipple and kissed up her neck until your lips reached her cheek and you could watch her orgasm come over her, your other hand cradling the side of her head as her eyes clenched shut and her jaw was slack, a guttural cry being pulled out of her.

Then finally she slumped back down onto the bed tiredly, her body a sore and sweaty mess of weak limbs. She shook with the tremors of her orgasm’s aftermath and you fell to her side, hugging her around her waist and burying your face in her sweet-smelling hair. She reached up and intertwined her fingers with your hair, fingernails gently scratching at the back of your head.

“That was the best sex I’ve had in a very, very long time,” she huffed out. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have sex wanting to have every string attached. 

Wanda turned her head and looked at you. “Y/N,” she said seriously. She cupped your cheek with her hand and stroked her thumb against your soft skin. “I want to commit to you. And you only.”

You perked up and lifted yourself onto your elbow. “So we can… date?”

She laughed and pulled you down so she could kiss your cheek. She spoke against it, “You are the most unassuming, sincere person I have ever met.”

“I-Is that a yes?” 

“That’s a yes, honey.”

You practically beamed and Wanda could only laugh again, feeling such a warm burst of joy spreading through her at the sight of you and how happy you looked.

“I’ve never started dating someone right after having sex with them,” you said, looking down at her with your head above hers. Your hand was on her stomach, drawing gentle shapes against it.

“Does that bother you?” she asked quietly, lifting both her hands to either side of your face.

You shook your head immediately, the happy smile reminiscent of a small puppy. 

A large smile pulled at Wanda's lips. “You are a terribly, terribly lovely girl, Y/N,” she said then kissed you. When she laid her head back down and looked up at you, the both of you exchanged a silent stare in which every hope for your relationship was conveyed in the silent fondness you shared looking at each other.

Wanda turned her head and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “I think we can get away with making me come one more time before we have to go back.” She moved herself closer to you and had you lay down beside her. “Make me come with your fingers.”

She spread her legs and rubbed her fingers against her wet folds while she tucked her other hand between your legs and met your cunt with them. She slid two manicured fingers into her pussy at the same time she entered you. 

Eventually after a few moments when she’d become bored of herself, she pulled out and took your wrist, placing your fingers against her warm pussy. You started fingering her while Wanda continued with her own hand still tucked between your thighs, gentle and smooth and ensuring you could follow her lead, feeling with your tight walls the way she carefully fucked her fingers in and out of you.

“You feel amazing,” she uttered against your lips. “So wet.” She leaned forward and tugged at your earlobe with her teeth. “I wanna see you come for me.”

Wanda quickened her fingers and you did the same, following her obediently. Soon, the both of you were exclusively reliant on each other for your releases, mutual pleasure tying the two of you together in the sweaty meshing of your bodies amongst Wanda’s soft bed sheets and heavy exhales from your mouths.

Finally, with Wanda holding herself back until she felt you near your orgasm, the both of you came together, tightening around each other’s fingers and for a moment making it seem like you shared a body, crying out against each other and feeling the other come around their fingers as they felt themselves riding through their orgasms. 

A few minutes later, the both of you were a cluster of two warm bodies, limbs entangled with each other. Your head was on Wanda’s chest as she stroked your hair and held your hand, your other idly running its thumb across the stretch marks that went up the side of her stomach.

The strap had been removed and was laying by the bottle of lube Wanda eventually found so she could be reminded to clean it properly later. 

“Why all of this so suddenly?” you asked, looking up at her from her shoulder. “I mean, bringing me home and then confessing and everything.”

Wanda hummed and circled a lock of your hair around her forefinger. “I’d just had it on my mind for a while, and it’d been so long since I last had you to myself,” she explained. “So I suppose when we got time alone, I just couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Agatha said you were jealous earlier.”

Her face contorted and she looked down at you as if she thought she hadn’t heard it right the first time. At the sight of you and realising you were serious, she looked away and attempted to conceal her embarrassed expression with a laugh. 

“What? Why would she–” She tried to chuckle, but it came out sounding nervous. “Agatha doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” she insisted with a shake of her head.

Then after a moment, more seriously albeit still hesitant, she asked, “Why did she say that?”

“She said you looked jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Wanda asserted. “I wasn’t.”

You smiled, and for the first time, Wanda didn’t catch onto the subtleties of your expression because she was occupied trying to obscure her own. It didn’t take long for you to catch onto the fact that she truly had been feeling jealous earlier.

“Besides,” she said, “you’re mine now, so…” She looked over at you and pulled you close so her body was against yours. “No reason to feel jealous anymore, is there?”

With a grin, you climbed onto her lap and Wanda placed her hands on your hips. You leaned down so your foreheads were pressed against each other. “No reason at all,” you answered.

Wanda kissed you and you felt her grin widely against your lips. 

“Good,” she said.

Neither of you realised nor would you care if either of you remembered that you’d both been expected back at the festival nearly forty minutes ago.

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

Could you maybe do a child reader x Ozzie and fizzy? The details are up to you, I just want them to be my dads! Thanks❤️

AWE OMG ☹️☹️☹️☹️ MY FIRST OZZIE AND FIZZ ASK BLOWS UP (i love them a normal amount) YES!!! This will be more in a headcanon bc I have so many thoughts and if this was a fic i think i would spend a year on it LMFAOO- Reader will be around 11-13! Slightly older kid but still a kid at the end of the day!! Also because my tiktok feed is filled with lamb girl reader will also be a lambkin!! A good portion of the beginning is me explaining the lamb demon premise lol

To be love is to be changed | Fizzmodeus x Child! GN! Reader

Relationship: Familial Warnings: None!! Pretty fluffy!!

You weren’t the typical demon, looking more like the sheep in the overworld than any demon in hell. 

Soft fluffy wool covered your body, save for your face. Your rounded snout and big eyes with semi-long lashes differed from the other hellborn children. Black hooved for feet and hands, making it slightly inconvenient to do day-to-day tasks, however, your kin adapted. Visibly the image or purity in a place of debauchery. Seemingly the only speck of light in a place that was consumed with darkness.

Fizz was the one who found you in the greed ring, taking you in after seeing you steal from a Shark Demon. He liked the balls you had to do that (and was insanely worried that something would happen to you if you got caught.)

Since Fizz welcomed you with open arms, and you weren’t that much of a threat (you are literally a child lol), Asmodeus opened you with even wider arms.

Ozze is the mom while Fizz is the dad. Nothing you can say will change my mind on that.

While Fizz does fret over you, it is nothing compared to Ozzie. If Ozzie is at work and gets pulled aside to be told that you hurt yourself or are sick, he will cancel his show and head home immediately.

While Ozzie is a worryrat, he isn’t a helicopter parent. He actually believes that you need your independence, especially since you aren’t that young. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the hell version of Life 360. He tracks your ass so much that if he gets the low battery notif, he is calling you to tell you to charge your phone. 

Fizz on the other hand is more of the chaotic parent. As in you both are banned from the kitchen, both separately and alone. To make a long story short, it started with the fork on fire and escalated to the hallway mat being singed. If you look under the replacement mat, you can still see the scorched marks of soot that were just too hard to get out. But that doesn’t mean Fizz can’t be stern with you. If anything, you prefer it when Ozzie is stern, since it is a little eerie to you when his smile isn’t there. 

Do not be fooled, while they will give you some of the things you want. you will not be spoiled insanely. You still have to pick up around your room (they told the staff not to clean your room), and in turn, you get an allowance so you can buy the things you want. 

If you try to hustle them and tell them that the other hasn’t paid you to get double the amount, literally do not get caught. They won’t pay you for your next allowance LMFAO.

In the beginning, you only called them Fizz and Ozzie, which they respected. It made sense in their heads since they weren’t really your dads, and they kinda just picked you off the streets. However when you got comfortable enough to refer to them as your dads? They were over the moon and cried to each other. 

How you approached the topic with them was by having them sit down in the living room with you.

Ozzie and Fizz were sitting down on the couch as you paced the floor. You had invited them to the living room stating that you needed to talk and asked them to sit. Albeit they were very confused as to what you needed to talk about, and seeing the worry on your face, didn’t really help with the nerves. They were holding one another’s hand as a comfort. There was a brief moment where you stopped and looked at them, before turning and beginning to pace again. Fizz and Ozzie looked at one another, asking if the other knew what was going on and denying it.

“Uhh…Kid?” Fizz starts after a bit, looking back at Ozzie for a moment before he looks back at your pacing figure. “Is everything alright?”

Instead of answering, you stopped and looked at the two of them. You left the room, furthering their confusion. It didn’t take long for you to come back with a laptop, the same one they had gifted you after a month of your stay. You connected it to the TV and put on display a PowerPoint.

“REASONS AS TO WHY YOU SHOULD ADOPT ME AND LET ME CALL YOU MY DADS.”

You had made a PowerPoint to talk to them and ask them if it was okay if you could call them dad

In said PowerPoint, you gave all the reasons (most of which said that you were awesome) and benefits of adopting you (benefits were that they get a cool kid in turn). You also went over the possible dad name variations for them and the reasons behind them. You even gave the origins of the names which amused Fizz to no end.

To make a long teary heartfelt story short, they adopted you. 

However, they had to do so in a way that didn’t get the media’s attention. Just because they were celebrities and figureheads, doesn’t mean they want you in the spotlight. Rather they agreed to wait until you were either close to being or were an adult to even announce that you were their kid (if you wanted to).

This also means that if you wanted to go out, you couldn’t go out with either of them, since the media knows that they were together, it wasn’t too far out of the picture for them to have a kid. This also extends to you not going to hospitals, rather they get a physician to come to their place and check on your health. It is this whole thing where they have a security check the doctor for any decisions or any stuff that could record your existence. (Said physician is threatened that if anything about you was leaked, they would hunt him down personally.) So sadly not a lot of days out together, however, they make up for it with at-home movie nights, game nights, and even sleepovers.

Very keen on your privacy, both in the public and at home. They always knock and make sure to not do anything to cross any of your boundaries. 

Ozzie has to be careful not to talk about too much of his work around you. You may not be a little kid, but you are still a kid and he believes that no kid should be exposed to his field so early in their life. Fizz is also careful not to talk about Ozzie’s work and doesn’t go too in-depth about Mammon’s treatment around you. 

If you are prone to nightmares, they will both personally comfort you. Even if you feel silly about it, since in your tween mind, you are too old to have your dads wait for you to fall asleep because you were too scared, they don’t mind. They will drop whatever they are holding if it means making you comfortable. 

Overall very lovely parents, and they love you dearly. With you in their lives, they feel that they have changed for the better and they cannot imagine their lives without you. Seeing you as their shining light, as they continue to raise you, they hope that your bright light never diminishes.

omg dude i rewrote this so mant times because the first attempts were kinda depressing bawling NAYWAYS IM SO HAPPY WITH HOW THIS CAME OUT AND HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED HEHE

[brucewaynehater101]

I typically go with Romantic which is just. So *oof*. Also, I can just picture it now. Dick asks Tim why he thought this was a good idea at all, why he didn't call someone for a ride and Tim simply replies, "I've been getting back to Gothem on my own like this for years. No need to bother you guys." and before he can even continue theres a chorus of "you aren't a bother" and "what the fuck do you mean?!"

Tim just takes a deep breath and says, "I've been getting back to Gothem on my own since before I was Robin so it was never a Robin or Batman issue, it's always been a Tim Drake thing." of course Bruce demands to know what Tim means by "getting back to Gothem on his own" and he just sighs as he sits on some grain, biting the bullet to just get it over with as he says, "sometimes when I went on trips with my parents they would get into arguments and leave in separate cars. And both of them would think the other one took me with them. And I always showed up at home safe and sound a few days later so they never really questioned it. Ha, first time was actually at a Gala in New York. I remember they were fighting about what dig site to go to and that night Mom got on a flight to Siberia while Dad got on a flight to The Congo. I snuck my little nine year old self onto a gray hound bus and rode it all the way to Gothem and then walked back to the manor."

Tim goes on to tell them about other times, somewhere between venting about his trauma and reminiscing about times he looks back on fondly. The fight that left him in Panama Beach when he was 11, the one that left him in Denver when he was 13, just 3 weeks before he became Robin, the one when he was 15 and was abandoned in Atlanta, the time when they left him somewhere in *Canada* and the time he was left in *Mexico City* when he was 14. He even laughs about having to sneak onto a cargo ship when his parents left him in Paris, France when he was 16. He comments that that one was actually a few weeks after he healed from the Titans Tower fight. Bruce and Jason are both totally not having a near panic attack about that last one.

Tim is living his life and forgetting that what he went through is probably fucked up. If it happened to another kid, he'd label that as criminal neglect. For himself? Meh.

(I know this is possible because, as someone who's been praised for being smart, I can be so fucking dumb. After explaining to my therapist that I've had anxiety attacks several years before and get anxious in social situations, I was shocked when she told me I had anxiety. Fucking dumb of me, but I bet Tim makes similar mistakes).

Just Tim vibing over all the "good times" he had and forgetting that it's fucked up his parents did that. He probably also felt really proud of himself for figuring it out. He was able to solve his issues and navigate complicated problems (like crossing borders without a passport) all by himself! Isn't that so cool!

The poor batfam is having heart attack after heart attack hearing all of this. It's another aspect of Tim that gets added to the piles of "things he hid from us without meaning to" and "why digging up the Drakes to revive and kill them again is a good idea" (Damian and Steph mainly are the ones to propose the second option).

I love the examples you proposed! Tim really was vibing

[formosusiniquis]

my @steddiesummerexchange gift fic for @oh-stars! I was so excited to work on this prompt: penpals through childhood until they both graduate -- road trip to meet one another in person. Epistolary fics are always a favorite of mine. oh-stars is such a brilliant writer and bright spot in the fandom, I was excited to be able to write a little something for her, I hope you like it!

October 13, 1976 Dear Eddie,

Mrs. Simpson says I’m supposed to thank you for volunteering to be my partner even though you’re a fifth grader. I don’t know why I should though since now I actually have to do this stupid pen pal project. I know she only paired me with an older kid cause she thinks I’m dumb. But thanks for the extra work I guess.

She said she wasn’t gonna read these before she sent them off, just that she was gonna make sure they were a page front and back like they were supposed to be. But I don’t really believe her. So I guess I should actually write this right.

Hi Eddie. My name is Steve Harrington. I’m 10 years old because I got put in Kindergarten late cause my parents were too busy in wherever my dad does his business stuff and my au pair -- that’s fancy for babysitter who lives in your house -- couldn’t do it. My birthday is in September, almost at the end (the 27th), so I guess that’s why it was okay. When’s your birthday (Mrs. Simpson says a friendly letter is supposed to ask questions.)

My favorite things are yellow and sports. I’m the best at red rover and kickball, Tommy says it's cause I’m the oldest and biggest in our class but he’s a sore loser and couldn’t even break through the girl side of the red rover line. Do you play games? Mrs. Simpson talks about your Hawkins like it’s on a different planet but you’re just in Kentucky. It’s right across the river. I’ve been there a couple times when Dad likes me and we’ll go watch Louisville play basketball. Basketball is my favorite sport but the only outside court is at the park and the big teenagers are always on it.

When you write back you can tell me what sports and games you like. Does your Dad ever bring you to Indiana to watch stuff? The Pacers only played okay last season and they lost to Kentucky in the playoffs. Is that who you root for?

Oh and I’m supposed to ask you about school since this is like homework. I kinda already did that at the beginning, remember. Do you like English or something? Is that why you asked for extra work? Or was your pen pal last year just a super dud?

That’s front and back now.

Sincerely (cause we aren’t friends), Steve Harrington

October 25, 1976 Dear Steve,

First of all I didn’t ask to have to write a letter to some fourth grader. I was told because I’m the only kid who didn’t do it last year that I had to be your partner. I do like English but extra work isn’t fun for anybody. I’ve never had a pen pal before so you’re the best and the worst one I’ve ever had. Are teachers allowed to call people dumb at your school? Mine just look at me like a really weird bug on the road or something.

Your teacher sounds like a real pain in the side, that’s what my Uncle Wayne would say. I think it’s cause he’s pretending he doesn’t know the word bitch. She talks about this Hawkins like it’s on another planet because it’s in the Appalachian Mountains and people think everyone here is stupid and marries their cousins.

Some of them are stupid but they would be like that anywhere it’s not because they live out here.

I’m actually from Lexington though so it isn’t even my Hawkins, but my Uncle Wayne lives here and he has to watch me for a little while.

You didn’t really ask me anything good about myself. I’m Eddie Munson, I’m going to be 11 when it’s my birthday this year (Halloween the coolest birthday cause everyone gives you candy). Red and black are my favorite colors. I don’t like any sports at all, they’re all stupid but everyone knows about basketball here, it's more important than church. Everywhere has games but when you get to fifth grade you learn which ones are for babies.

I like imagination games the best cause then I don’t have to worry about anyone else playing with me. There’s lots of woods here so I can go in them and hunt monsters or dragons or be an elf like in my favorite books.

Wayne’s looking over my shoulder and says I’m supposed to ask you a question. So what’s your favorite book? Do you like fantasy, that’s my favorite but the science fiction stuff with aliens is cool too.

I know you asked about my dad but since I live with Wayne I’m gonna use him instead. He hasn’t ever taken me to Indiana cause “his truck weren’t meant to leave these hills” whatever that means. He said he roots for The Colonels but he wishes your Pacers luck this season. What’s a Pacer anyway?

Do I have to ask you about school too? I don’t think this is homework for me more like extra credit. If you don’t like English what do you like? Don’t say recess or lunch those are cheating answers.

Not your friend either, Eddie Munson

Continue on AO3

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Qué serà, serà. Prologue

Callum Turner X Reader

Sumarry: The history of Callum and Y/n's relationship.

Warning: None

Taglist: @emmaafinchh @adeena04 @alelo23

If you're not in it and want to be, let me know

A/n: I don't know each part of Callum's life, I knew he grew up without a dad. I won't write anything about it, except what I wrote. Love y'all

Y/n and Callum had always been Y/n and Callum. They’ve been best friends since they were in the wombs. Their parents were best friends, they’d met in high school, became a group of friends and are still best friends to this day. When the two girls became pregnant at the same time, they knew their children were going to be best friend. Callum was born a month before Y/n, he was born February 15th, Y/n was born on March 15th. They went to school together; they were always together. Since they were both an only child, they found in each other the sibling they didn’t have. When they were both 4 years old, they made a promise.

They were playing in the park; he was pushing her on the swing. ‘’Will you promise me a thing, Cal?’’ her little voice said. ‘’Of course, Y/n/n, what is it?’’ he said. ‘’Never leave me, you’re my best friend’’ she said. She’d came off the swing and went in front of him. She showed him her pinky fingers. ‘’Promise?’’ she asked. They hooked their pinkie together. ‘’Pinky promise’’ he said. They both hugged and went back playing in the park.

As they both grew up, the always remembered this promise, they honored it. After all, pinky promise was the most serious promise of all. Y/n wasn’t popular at school, she didn’t have many friends, Callum, on the contrary, had tons of friends, but he only had one best friend. People thought Y/n was weird, even though she was perfectly normal. She loved history, Harry Potter and sucked at math, when she was 7, she got diagnosed with dyscalculia, it’s a learning disability with math. It would often lead her to mistake her left and right, she couldn’t read a normal clock and she had trouble solving math problems. It often made her feel stupid, but Callum always cheered her up. He understood math, so he helped her with her homework. Callum’s dad left when he was young, he was too young to understand what really went down, but Y/n’s dad was disappointed in his ex- best friend. He made it a personal mission to be a father figure to Callum. Y/n’s dad had been there for Callum the second Rosemary, Callum’s mom, told them that the dad had left.

Y/n always had a thing for Callum, he was good looking, and he was so nice to her. It started to be hard when Callum started dating. Especially when he had his first kiss in front of Y/n at 13. They went to a skatepark with Callum’s friend, he was talking to a much older girl that smoked. When he kissed her, he thought it was disgusting, her breath smelled like cigarette, and it was horrendous. Her heart broke a little that day, even when he told her that the kiss was disgusting, she felt sad. It got worse when Callum started acting, he started to date some of the actresses and the picture were everywhere. Y/n dates a little bit, but she knew she’d never love anyone more than she loved Callum. On his part, Callum tired his hardest to not fall in love with her. She was his best friend, he couldn’t think about her like that, even though he tried, he ended up falling in love with her. By dating the other actress, he tried to forget about her, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t love anyone more than Y/n.

When she went to university, Callum was afraid that she would forget about him and find new friends. But she didn’t. She decided to stay at home instead of living on campus. She studied history, and she wanted to become a historian. He helped her study, and she helped him with the lines he had to learn, when her finals came, Callum stayed up all night to help her study and when she passed her exams, he was the first to jump in her arms, yelling that his best friend is going to be an historian. Now that they both moved to L.A., it was hard to stick with their promise. He started acting more professionally, so he was never at home. Because they were roommates, they lived together, but Callum was always away. He felt bad for always being away, but he was pursuing his carer, so he must make this sacrifice. Their life together was fun, but it had its difficulties, especially when they were both in love with the other…

[maybege]

Friendship Breakups Are The Worst - FBI 13

Summary: You thought things would be better when you got back. You thought wrong.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.3k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: none, I think

Remember how we don’t like Josh?

Yeah, this chapter is going to make that even worse.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Returning to Washington after two weeks with your parents, you weren’t sure if “returning home” was the right term to use. To be honest, you weren’t really sure where home was anymore. Because as nice as it had been to be with your parents, one thing this trip had made crystal clear was that Idaho no longer was home either.

This was something you would have to unpack, it seemed, and you could not wait to fall into your bed after a long travel day to mull this over in your head. Maybe Josh was home, too, and you could ask him what he thought. After all, he was just as far from home as you were and it certainly could not hurt to have some outside input to make sense of the thoughts in your head.

At least that could keep you from obsessing about your first day back tomorrow.

You knew you were cutting it close when you booked your return flight for the evening before you were due back but you could not bear to be alone in the city that seemed to be the origin of all of your problems and the solution for said problems at the same time.

(The image of Hotch delivering your PTO application form back to you with his no-telling look of disapproval had burnt itself into your mind.)

The night was already getting darker outside as you were digging for your keys in your purse and the door to your apartment flew open, revealing a face you weren’t all too thrilled to see.

“Amber, hi,” there was no denying that the smile on your face was fake. But the one on hers was as well.

“Hi,” she greeted you in that overly sweet voice that made you grate your teeth, “Don’t mind me, I'm already on the go. I was just here to get the measurements for the room.”

You frowned. “The what?”

Before she could reply, Josh appeared out of nowhere, his hand on her shoulder as he guided her outside. “Amber, thank you so much for coming, I will call you, okay?”

The girl smiled, happily waving at you as she passed you by. Josh closed the door behind you and carried your bag through the open door of your room.

Why was the door to your room open?

“Why was Amber looking at my room?” you asked, already dreading the answer.

Josh had no reason to move out. He was the main renter after all. And you were the one who had just spent two weeks out of state. “Do you think I am moving out?” Josh did not say anything, “You ... are kicking me out?”

He didn’t meet your gaze and strangely enough, that was what triggered your anger. A lifetime of friendship and he was too cowardly to look you in the eyes and admit whatever bullshit he had committed.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” you bit out, “I don’t understand, Josh, what happened? Did I do something that you suddenly cannot stand to live with me?”

“You are – you are so sensitive!” he burst out and you took a step back, eyes widening at seeing your friend so hateful, “You can’t take any jokes and you’re all high and mighty ever since you got that job at the FBI. And you constantly complain about people staying over.”

“But you were happy for me,” you stuttered out, “You – you were the first to congratulate me when I got the call.”

“I did not think you would last!” he blurted out, his hands in the air as if he was finally surrendering.

You froze. Why did your heart beat so loudly all of a sudden?

“I did not think you would make it longer than a week there, okay?” he sounded exasperated, hurt even. As if you were the one who had just told him you did not believe in him. “But it’s been almost a year and –“

“And I still work there,” you interrupted him, rage and hurt bubbling up inside you, “I still work at the job I was so happy about getting and that is what is bothering you? My success? My happiness at finally finding something where I think I can make a difference? After working through – through self-doubt and –“

You stopped short, the penny dropping in your brain as you suddenly saw your alleged best friend in a whole new light. Your best friend who still couldn’t properly face you, even with his betrayal out in the open.

“Oh, but it isn’t,” you realized quietly, “You are jealous because I achieved what I wanted while you spend your days pretending that you are all on track to get your degree to everyone including yourself while you are spending your days getting drunk and talking about it as if

“Just go, okay?” he scoffed, “I thought you'd return to Idaho so I promised to rent out the room to Amber. She moves by the next month.”

“No worries,” you bit out, blindly reaching for the doorknob behind you, “I have no interest in moving back here now.”

*

In any cheesy movie, the weather reflected the character’s moods. A sad (or at least somewhat dramatic) scene was always accompanied by thunder, rain or otherwise appropriate weather backdrops (see: the first proposal scene in the 2005 Pride & Prejudice version).

Washington’s weather didn’t give a fuck about your emotional state.

It was dark and cold because it was eleven pm on a Sunday evening but otherwise, the city was lit with lovely lights and you met way too. Blinded by the whirlwind of emotions, you stumbled into the closest 24/7 diner you found. You had passed it several times on your way to and from work but had never stepped a foot inside. How ironic that the first time would probably be the last time as well. Who knew where you would end up living by the end of the month?

Oh God. Who knew where you would end up living by the end of the month?

One order of pancakes and coffee later, you sat in a red leather booth, staring into the liquid that was as dark as your future, it seemed. The pancakes were and probably would remain untouched, no matter the lovingly decorated deep frozen berries on top. You had had the slim hope that, if you were to smell food, you would feel like eating. But all you felt was sad and nauseous.

Had this really just happened? Had your longest friendship just crumbled into nothing at the snap of someone’s fingers? How could that have happened? What were you supposed to do now?

Your mind could not comprehend the two major life changes that you had gotten for the price of one. Dissolution of your oldest friendship from home? Check. Loss of apartment space leaving you for the moment homeless in one of the most expensive cities to live in? Check.

Double jackpot. Lucky you.

A tear dropped into the coffee cup, ripping you out of your thoughts and you looked around, paranoid that anyone had witnessed your low point. But like so often, the other patrons of the diner were focused much more on themselves than any other person in the diner.

Until the hotdog was flying to your chest.

Your grandfather always said that misery attracted misery and if that was true, it really should not come as a surprise that the waitress tripped right next to your table of all tables. You watched the dish fly through the air in slow motion and though you registered that you needed to move, your body moved much slower than you wanted it to.

And then you had a mess of hot dog, ketchup and mustard all smeared over your dress until it settled in your lap.

Great. Just what you needed.

A fresh wave of tears spilled over your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” the poor girl – Nancy, her nametag read – looked at you, tears and panic in her eyes as she looked at your now ruined dress.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you sniffled, taking the napkins from her and pressing them into your dress, trying to wipe the condiments off, “It was an accident. No worries. Could – do you happen to have another set of napkins?”

Happy to have something she could help you with, the young woman dashed off into the kitchen, returning with a bunch of napkins in her hands just as you had picked the food pieces off yourself. “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked, big eyes looking helplessly at where you tried to dab on the stain.

“No, uh,” you swallowed back the tears, “It’s all good, I promise. Thank you, though, for the napkins.”

She seemed reluctant to leave you pondered what you could say to get her to leave you alone in your misery when a new set of customers walked in. A whole group, judging from the noise they made, caused her to leave your table to take care of the new arrivals.

Thank you, universe.

Now you could wallow in self-pity. At least for five minutes because suddenly someone was standing right in front of you. And you would recognize that jeans and shirt-clad body everywhere.

“Derek?” you sniffled, looking up at your colleague who had pity written all over his face. And who had a beautiful woman standing right next to him.

“What in the world are you doing here, kid?”

“Um,” you could feel your bottom lip tremble, “Just hanging out?”

“Come on,” he nodded to the door, “You can crash at my place.”

“Derek,” you whispered, new tears filling your eyes, “Are you sure? Your date –“

“She’ll be fine,” he interrupted you gently, “Now come on, you look like you could use a shower and a friend.”

He had never been more right.

*

You took the pillow gratefully, fluffing it up and putting it on his couch.

Derek had been right: The shower had made you feel tremendously better and after briefly soaking your dress in the sink a good cry, you had felt ready to explain everything that was going on.

“I really cannot thank you enough, Derek,” you finished your tale, clutching the fuzzy blanket in your hands, “It’s … really been a day.”

“You can say that again,” he scoffed, shaking his head, “That is no way to treat a friend and I am begging you to let me go with you to get your stuff. I have a few words for that Josh fellow.”

You smiled at his protectiveness, finally feeling like this day was turning out for the better.

If only it weren’t the last day of your vacation.

*

Sleep was unrestful and way too short.

You did not know how much time you had spent tossing and turning on Derek’s couch, your mind restless while Josh’s words – accusations, your brain corrected – kept echoing in your head. He had been so angry, so emotional, that suddenly you found yourself questioning the one friendship, the one relationship, you had since kindergarten.

When had he changed how he thought about you?

Had it been in middle school, both of you going to school and you being so sure of yourself you’d be able to get into university? Had it been in high school? Him falling one year behind even though he already was a year older than you? Had it been then that he decided he did not want to attend your prom? That he would do his best to make ‘jokes’ about the studies you chose?

When, in the last eighteen years, had he decided he did not want to be your friend anymore? And, most importantly, why hadn’t you noticed it?

Why had it become so normal for you to just accept that he was lying to others about you? When had it become okay to simply take the jokes instead of confronting him about them? Why, with everything you had achieved in life, had you not been insistent and strong enough to tell him your mind before it was too late?

You sighed, turning on your side, facing the wide window that looked onto the brownstone next door. This next day would be a bitch, you already knew that.

It did not take long until you could hear Morgan pattering around in the kitchen, most likely trying to give you some more privacy, which you appreciated. The smell of coffee got you motivated enough to finally sit upright, bracing yourself for the day ahead.

And the day ahead arrived with a phone call. With an apologetic smile, your friend answered the phone, “Morgan here.”

You sat up, knowing that it was most likely his work phone. An assumption that was proven right as he threw you a pointed look.

“Yeah, listen, tell JJ not to call her. She is with me,” a pause as he grinned, “What do you think, Hotch?”, a pause, his grin grew wider, “Yeah, we’ll be there as soon as we can.” And with that, he hung up.

“Coffee?” he asked, already on his way to the kitchen and you groaned.

Your legs ached as you sat up and you tried to stretch your arms over your head, already feeling how exhaustion meddled with your body. “Yes, please. I’ll try to get dressed.”

You stood up, walking over to the kitchen chair where your dress was at least somewhat dry but the stain still very much visible. You did not have the time nor the emotional energy to go back to your place to change.

Morgan seemed to notice your struggle, throwing a look at you as he placed two to-go cups on the counter.

“I doubt my pants would fit you but I could lend you a shirt?” he offered, “Maybe just to cover up that stain?”

Resigned, you looked down on the enormous ketchup and mustard stain on your dress and nodded. “That would be nice, I have a to-go bag back in the office, then I can change into something more appropriate.”

“Sounds good, kid,” he nodded, nodding towards the bathroom, “You want to go get changed first?”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i went behind my dad’s back and contacted my disowned brother?

so i (23m) had an older brother we’ll call J. i have quite vague memories of him, going to visit him at his house, him giving me gifts. i still have two gifts i got from him as a very little kid - a little disco ball that lights up your room with coloured lights, and a similar little nightlight thing that changes colours and looks like a firework. he got them for me because i was terrified of the dark.

i don’t remember him being disowned. i didn’t find out why until years later. i knew he was gay, and that my dad was massively homophobic back then (he accepts me being gay, but he still makes stupid comments about it, and he does Not like me being trans) so it was kinda implied to me that he was disowned for being gay especially because i was told about massive fights they’d had about it

when i was a little older i found out he’d been addicted to drugs. unsure what kind but it was pretty serious and he was getting into trouble with dealers in our area so he had to keep skipping town. eventually he developed drug-induced psychosis. the way my dad tells it he became convinced that people were hunting him down to kill him, that he was an important figure in some underground crime ring and he owned half the town, that the government was silencing him because they were scared of him etc it was causing some severe problems

he did go through psychiatric facilities a few times but nothing seemed to help him, he wouldn’t take medication, he didn’t want help. my dad eventually cut him off because in his words he couldn’t take it anymore, and my brother essentially disappeared from my life.

he reappeared in a way twice since then. when i was about 9 i got a phone call and i just remember him saying “[name]? it’s J. your brother” and i was so shocked and happy, passed the phone to my parents and him and my dad briefly reconnected and went out to lunch together a few times. however it didn’t seem to last long and my dad froze him out again, never said why.

then when i was about 13 he contacted me on facebook. it was under a fake name because since he left he’s changed his identity like a jillion times (which is why it’s hard to find him) because presumably he’s still running into issues with the law. he asked me how my dad was treating me and i can’t really remember what i said but i was probably pretty honest, at the time my dad was enormously abusive both verbally and physically and was for most of my childhood (not anymore). he said some weird things like that he’d always protect me, our dad was scared of him because he could beat him up, if i ever needed help just tell him and he’d “deal with” dad for me, etc. next thing i know cops are at my house saying they got a report i was being abused and they needed to ask some questions, but my mum was hovering over my shoulder the entire time and i was scared to get my dad in trouble so i froze up and said it wasn’t true and they left. after that my dad called my brother and basically told him to never come back and to never contact me again.

and he hasn’t. it’s been a decade since the last time i heard from him. for the most part i haven’t thought much about it, but for the last few months i’ve had constant dreams about him. it tears me up not knowing if he’s okay, if he still cares about me, if he Wants to come back and he’s just waiting for my dad to be gone, if he’s in love or married, if he’s gotten clean and medicated, if hes worse, i don’t know Anything. i’ve tried to find him as best i can, but because hes changed his name and i know nothing about where he lives or even solidly how old he is anymore i can’t even begin properly. i know my sisters are up for finding him too and have made posts on websites about reconnecting with relatives etc but with no luck. all the numbers i had for him are disconnected. i don’t even know what he looks like.

i asked my dad if he has any pictures of him, because i Know hes showed me some before, and he blew up at me. he said that J is violent and dangerous and that he doesn’t ever want to hear about me contacting him because it’s not fair to bring him back into his life (which is fair but also he’s become somewhat Toxic Self-Care the last few years like he literally let me become briefly homeless even though he is a landlord with empty houses because “helping you would stress me out i’m looking after myself” like sir WHAT) so i’ve never mentioned it to him again.

but i just. want to know how my brother is so bad. i think all the time about how different it could’ve been to grow up with a gay brother as a gay kid! to grow up with someone dealing with mental health when i started to and didn’t know what to do! to have someone understand my dad abusing me! to have someone who wanted to protect me!

part of me is scared of him showing up because i’m getting told about how violent he is and how he hates people so intensely for nothing and how far he’ll go to hurt them. but part of me is like - i don’t know how much of that is true! you guys originally told me he was cut off for being gay!

i’ve been doing little things like making all of my facebook posts public instead of friends only so if he’s looking he can see how i’m doing and what i look like. my family thinks he does look because sometimes they’ll get anonymous messages like after my parents divorced my mum would get messages acknowledging it and asking how she was doing and why it happened and she very strongly felt it was J kind of angling for Dirt On Dad™️. my dad thinks he reacted to one of his posts with an emoji once? it was like a laughing emoji on one of my dad’s wedding pictures LMAO so dude definitely still hates my dad.

but idk like. i’m not hidden yknow. he could’ve reached out. but maybe he thinks he’s not wanted because of my dad being there. raaargh.

i’ve been thinking about taking a dna test and seeing if he shows up. if he’s in the legal system he should be right?? but i don’t know how much that will help me with figuring out where he is now. like do i just. wait for my dad to pass away before i try to avoid crossing his boundaries 😭 he’s 73

tl;dr wibta if i went behind my dad’s back to try to find my potentially dangerous brother who seems to really want to put my dad in a paper shredder

What are these acronyms?

[vulnonapixes-dc-corner]

I know that Genderbending isn't a real thing anymore, but I thought it would be fun!

Tim is my favorite batbro, so I started with him.

I chose the name Dorothy since it has the same ending as Timothy and a similar meaning. Other favorites were Tiffany and Theodora.

(Timothy: Gods Honor

Dorothy: God's Gift

Tiffany: Manifestation of God

Theodora: God's Gift)

As for her story/Timeline, I decided to throw a few things from Canon and Fanon together.

Her first memory was of her going to the circus when she was 4. Her parents had just come home from a business trip and wanted to spend some quality time with her. There she met Fanny (Female Dick) and saw the incident that killed Fanny's Parents.

She spent a few years in therapy after that.

Her hyper fixation with Batman and Robin when she was 6 after one of her live-in Nanny told her about them saving her from a robbery.

She just wanted to thank them.

At 9 years old she realized that Batman and Robin were her neighbors Bruce Wayne and Franziska Grayson.

This realization also started her career as a Baby stalker.

(The only reason why she was able to sneak out every night was because she played the role of the good and gentle rule-following Daughter to her Caretakers.)

She was 13 when she blackmailed Bruce into taking her as Robin after Jennifer (female Jason) died and Fanny wouldn't come back to Gotham.

Their relationship was rocky and cold in the beginning till Live decided to fuck her over.

At age 14 she had been captured and tortured by the Joker for a few weeks, resulting in her becoming Joker jr for months.

She only snapped out of it after her mother died and her dad went into a coma.

Despite popular belief and the fact that they spent most of their time aboard, she was close to them.

Daily phone calls and the writing of letters were their way of communication.

The Titans Tower incident happened when she was 15. (Her time as Titan started with her time as Robin)

At age 16 Lilith (female Damian) appeared and Bruce died. She became Red Robin and went on a wild goose chase to bring him back.

She laid down the mantle of the red robin and became crow after accepting Lilith as her family member/as robin.

Now to her relationship with the batfam:

Alfred: doting grandad vs granddaughter who has no sense of time and keeps on forgetting to visit.

Bruce: she still sees him as her boss, whilst he is the most parental girl dad to her.

Fanny: still looks up to her despite the feeling of hurt she still feels about her actions. Fanny just loves her little sister a lot but doesn't know how to apologize.

Barbara; she was her first celebrity crush and still adores her. Barbara enjoys spending time with her and they bonded over the whole "Joker ruined my life" thing.

Jennifer: they are surprisingly good. Dorothy used to look up at her and saw her as "her Robin". Jennifer apologized and all but begged for forgiveness after she broke out of the Pit madness.

Stephanie: Exes turned best friends. Their dating was just a try to name the close relationship that they had.

Cass: they are platonic soulmates. Twins from different parents.

Dara (female Duke): She sees her as the little sister that she always wanted. Dara wants to study her /jk. They often talk about comics and video games.

Lilith: She pittys her after having to deal with the league herself and tries to help her. Lilith hates that but has some respect for her after she brought her father home.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fake Love Part 7

Reader is a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more nothing less. But following an accident whistle vacation in Dubai she somehow makes her boyfriend believe that she does somthing else for a living, something that earns her way more money than she has. Her boyfriend, Ruben, is just happy to have found someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn't want him for his money since money isn't an issue for neither reader or himself. Or so thinks. Would finding out the truth ruin their newfound relationship? Readers thinks so, and does everything to keep up the lie, although it has some bad people from the middle east looking for her.

Enjoy!

"Okay, how much is that?"

"About 7 000 total."

"Ugh, we're still 13 000 pounds short." You groaned, falling back against your couch.

You and Alicia agreed to sell all the things that she had bought, in order to pay Mr Siddiq back. You managed to sell most of her designer items online, and some of the items that she hadn't even worn yet were returned to the store for a refund. You spent all week living like savages, glued to the computer, making phone calls to meet up with potential buyers.

"I don't understand why we can't eat, though? Or have heat?" Alicia asked, wrapping her body up in a blanket.

"Eating costs." You muttered. "So does heat. All of our money is going to paying back Mr Siddiq. I've told you this."

"Yes, but like you said, we're still 13 000 pounds short. I don't think we will be making that much money in 24 hours and I'm starting to get hungry."

You rolled your eyes. You really couldn't with Alicia. How could her financial judgment have been so poorly? I mean, her mother is an accountant for God's sake. However, it might have been her dad who used to spoil her as a child. The thrill of a man paying for everything she pointed to must be her aspiration in life. But today Alicia's aspirations had gotten you in a lot of debt.

"Would you please pick up your phone, my ass doesn't want to vibrate forever, and I'm pretty sure your boyfriend is calling me now."

It was true, you recognized Ruben's number on Alicia's screen. You stood up to take the call, disappearing into your bedroom.

"Ruben?"

He had been calling all week. But with everything going you weren't in the right head space to talk to him, let alone be honest with him.

"Hey, baby. Is everything alright?" He sounded concern, probably because you were talking to him through someone else's phone.

"Everything is fine. Life is just pretty hectic right now."

"Oh, sorry if I'm disturbing you..."

"It's fine Ruben. Hearing your voice is really what I needed."

"Good." He shriped and you imagined the dimples that came with his smile.

"I've actually got some news that might cheer you up?"

"Really? A man named Mr Siddiq and his entire family sadly passed away in a plane crash?

"Yeah, I'll be in London this weekend for our away game against Chelsea."

"Oh"

"Oh?"

You perked up. "I mean, that's...that's really nice Ruben. But I'm not in London this week?"

"No? Where are you then?"

Don't lie, don't lie, don't lie.

"Stevenage!" You blurred out, immediately regretting it.

"Stevenage? What is that?"

"Um, it's a city. Where I grew up actually. Where my parents live."

"Oh, you're visiting your parents?"

"Yes, so I'm pretty busy."

"I'd love to meet them someday."

"You do?" You paused, Ruben's answer suprised you.

"Of course. Wouldn't you like for me to meet them?"

You had just gotten comfortable calling Ruben your boyfriend, him meeting your parents would mean another milstone reached before you had told Ruben who you really are.

"Sure." You mumbled.

"Let's make it happen someday." He said, sounding happy about the fact.

"Um, I've got to get back to work..."

"Of course. It was nice to hear your voice too. Can I call you again later tonight?"

"Um, sure."

"Alright, talk to you later then. I love you."

"Bye Ruben."

The room fell silent as you ended the call, however the guilt and shame inside you was louder than ever. You dragged yourself back to the living room, handing Alicia back her phone.

"You good? What did he say?"

"He said he loved me." You plotted down on the couch, eyes staring blankly into space.

"Oh my god, really? What did you say."

"I said, bye Ruben."

Alicia frowned.

You turned to her with tears in your eyes. "He's never gonna talk to me again when he finds out."

"Finds out what?" She cought you as you slumped into her embrace. "That you're nothing but a gold digger?"

You sat back up. "That's not funny Alicia."

Her shoulders shrugged when she laughed.

"I am not a gold digger. You on the other hand...."

"Okay, okay. I get, I messed up. I'm the bad guy in all of this. But speaking of gold diggers...." She said, with that look that often haunted your dreams. "Wouldn't it be easiest to just ask Ruben for the remaining money? I mean surely he's good for it, and if he really loves you..."

You batted your eyes. Baffled by what was coming out of Alicia's big mouth. Surley anyone would agree that now would be the only right time to slap your best friend in the face. "Alicia." You said, with the lowest most calmest tone you could extract from yourself. You were convinced that this was the only way that she would understand you, if you were babying her.

"Yes, Y/N?" She said, with that naive twinkle in her eyes.

"Have...you...learned...nothing. You are NOT. I repeat NOT, borrowing money from anyone ever again, especially not Ruben."

"Then how are we gonna pay the last 13 000 back?"

"I'm...." You said, getting up and walking over to grab your coat. "I'm going to talk to someone I trust and know will lend me the money, with a promise that I'll pay him back with interest."

Alicia looked over to where you stood. "It's not Byron is it?"

"That's none of your business." You hissed, slamming the door on your way out.

Byron agreed to hear you out over a beer. You met in a small pub in town and to your suprise Byron agreed to lend you the money.

"And don't worry, you won't have to give me all of it until June."

"It's okay." He said.

"It is?" 13 000 punds was alot of money. However, there was something else on Byron's mind, a question.

"Is this you?" He asked, showing something off his IPhone.

Heat rose to your face seeing a photo of you in the club with Ruben and his friends, Ruben's arm waying over your shoulder as you sat next to him.

"Um..."

You had seen it before, the photo, going around the internet, with the caption talking about Ruben and his new boe. It was first posted on Lauren's Instagram. Lauren who was Ruben's teammates girlfriend.

"Yes, yes that's me." You sighed.

Byron nodded. Of course it was you in the photo, he wasn't blind. People in Stevenage watched Football and knew of the hype around it. You only belong to the few people who didn't.

"How do you know Jack Grealish and Ruben Dias ?" He followed up, in a way that sounded more like you were being accused of a crime rather than asked a simple question.

"I um....met them during a night out with friends." You lied. He wasn't  Ruben, you had no problem lying to Byron.

"And so the two of you...?" He was reffering to Ruben.

"Took a photo and then went our separate ways." You nodded. "Yeah, that's pretty much what happened."

Byron didn't look to believe you, but proceeded. "It's obvious that you're seeing someone Y/N, I mean you never come over for game nights anymore and I've seen you texting someone when you should be paying attention to your class."

You chuckled. "Byron I have no idea what you're point is, but if this is you criticizing the way I teach my kindergarten class then..."

He shook his head. "No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?" You really didn't have the  time. You should get back to the apartment, help Alicia sell her clothes. And Ruben would want to facetime soon.

"I like you Y/N."

"There it is." You sighed.

"And I'm not lending you the money so that you'll finally agree to be my girlfriend, but...."

"But?" You frowned. "There is no but in this Byron. Either you lend me the money out of the kindness of your heart, or you don't. This is not an exchange of services."

"Then, no." He said, fixing his posture as he sat across from you.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

He got up to leave, grabbing his jacket. He looked down on you with pitty on his face. "Life is about choices Y/N, and you seem to keep making the wrong ones."

With that he left.

You got back to your apartment, pretty sure that smoke was coming out of your ears.

"Y/N, there is something you should..."

"Not now Alicia."

You stomped across the living room.

"But you should really..."

"God, not now Alicia." You hissed, not meant to take your anger out on her. Nevertheless the damage was already done as Alicia crumbled where she sat on the couch. "I'm sorry I..." You ran a hand down your tired face. "I just got to facetime Ruben first. I have to tell him that I love..." The handle to your bedroom door pressed down just as you were about to do it. The door opened and he appeared in the frame.

"Ruben?"

He grinned. "You sounded down over the phone so I brought something that might cheer you up."

"W...what?"

He stretched out his arms. "Me!"

Warmth erupted inside you. You stumble forwards, melting into his giant embrace. Although this was a bad thing, a really bad thing that he was here, you really needed to be held right now.

[britcision]

Okay WIP Wednesday! I’ve had a real fucking busy weekend painting the house and building new furniture and making some fucking HELLACIOUS overalls (pics later maybe???)

But I basically haven’t been on except my occasional cursed thought, and hopefully I’ll be around more and actually get to some messages this week 👀 maybe

In the meantime! Here is the Danny segment I considered giving you last week!

————————

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence iii

Honestly, driving in Gotham wasn’t even all that exciting from Danny’s perspective. After being tossed around the GAV despite the seatbelts, a couple of cranky fellow drivers just didn’t register.

If they hadn’t been going through the city, maybe going highway speeds it might have been different, but he’d kind of worked out how loud he had to be to be heard.

By Jason snickering when he screamed at pedestrians.

If they didn’t want to be screamed at they shouldn’t be trying to loom menacingly.

Of course, that just meant now was the perfect time for him to use his new power for evil. Danny flipped his visor up, straining as high as he could to yell to Jason.

“SO, THAT CONSTANTINE GUY?”

There was a sudden click in his ear and he jumped as Jason’s voice came through, quiet and definitely amused.

“There’s a radio in your helmet, Danny.”

Oh.

News to fucking him, he was pretty sure that wasn’t standard in motorcycle helmets, but not from any lived experience. Johnny 13’s dead experiences were a little out of date.

Poking around the sides of his helmet, Danny soon found a button.

“Sweet. Looks like you finally forgot to mention something,” he teased, and heard Jason snort loud and clear.

Didn’t have to hold the button to talk then. Good times. He’d get Tucker to take a look on the way home after he ecto infused it. For now he flipped the visor back down.

“Looks like,” Jason agreed dryly, swerving them around a cluster of traffic.

He wasn’t exactly sticking to the letter of the law, they were definitely half again over the speed limit, but they hadn’t gone on a sidewalk so it was nothing to a Fenton. There was even an empty slot in the lane he merged into.

“So what about Constantine,” he prompted, and while it broke Danny out of his musings, it also reminded him of the exact thing he’d planned to do to make the trip more interesting.

“Oh, I own his soul. Like, a dozen times over,” Danny chirped perkily, grip tightening just before Jason had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting the car beside them.

They sped off again before the sudden swerve caused comment, and passed a block or two in silence. Then Jason sighed.

“Of fucking course you do that for everything and not just Mariokart.” He mostly sounded resigned, so Danny allowed himself a snicker.

“What, it’s not like we’re gonna die. You’re even still on the road,” he dismissed easily, waving a hand to show just how unconcerned he was.

Did not expect Jason to huff, reach back and grab his hand, and pull it back around himself.

“I’m reconsidering teaching you to drive,” he told Danny flatly, and Danny pouted but took the hint and held on.

“Oh come on, you can’t say that, you haven’t even seen me try!” Danny protested.

Jason made an unimpressed noise.

“Your town’s weather includes reports of if your parents will be on the road.”

Which, by the way, was totally unfair of him, since he’d never have known that if Danny hadn’t told him. Or Tucker hadn’t told Tim.

Same difference.

“My parents, not me,” Danny argued anyway, shrugging, “and it wasn’t their driving that killed me.”

This time he was close enough, snugged tight to Jason’s back, that he felt the guy’s whole body shiver with a loud and rumbling growl. The same growl he’d heard and soothed earlier.

Something had really riled up Jason’s pit ghost.

Danny hummed another quick soothing trill, stroking his aura gently across Jason and his extra passenger.

Sort of trying to do it unobtrusively; he would actually really prefer that they didn’t fully crash. It kinda worked, in that Jason managed to unlock suddenly solid muscles enough for them to make the next turn.

“Sorry,” Danny said quickly, kind of to both of them, “guess Pitty doesn’t like the death jokes today.”

They passed another few buildings in silence, anf Danny had definitely noticed by now that they weren’t heading for the manor. Didn’t matter so long as Jason knew where they were going.

Danny waited him out, long enough that he almost wanted to make another joke and lighten the mood. Again though, Jason broke it first.

“Pitty.” He did not sound impressed. But he didn’t feel mad. More what the fuck just came outta your mouth.

Danny gave him a quick squeeze, and almost felt the pit purr.

It was kinda getting stronger the longer they hung out. Technically that probably meant that both cores were making progress.

“Well, technically you probably get to name it, but until you come up with something I’m calling it Pitty,” Danny explained, and rather felt that Jason should be grateful.

Unlike the rest of his family, Jason had seen the full list of how Jack Fenton named things. Danny preferred to think he took after his aunt.

He coulda called it the Fenton Pit Friend or something. Really, it wasn’t hard to think of anything worse.

From his aura, Jason now seemed to be intentionally ignoring him.

Stewing in indignation-disbelief-confused-confused-confused. Well, that was his call.

Anyway.

“Back to Constantine though, I wasn’t kidding. I do actually own his soul,” Danny said casually, since they’d gotten distracted from his previous attempt to make the drive more interesting.

For a moment he wasn’t sure if Jason would rise to the bait this time either, and then another sigh came over the radio.

“Y’know, somehow, that’s the least surprising thing you’ve said. Man sells his soul so much everyone seems to have a chunk,” Jason grumbled, and Danny snickered.

“Oh, pretty much. He’s the Caterpie of human souls. He never made a deal with me directly though,” he added quickly, without being fully sure why.

He was pretty sure Jason wouldn’t jump straight to “Danny is a soul trader”, but honestly he’d gotten used to getting ahead of wilder trains of thought.

“Oh? How’d you get twelve then?” Jason shot back, clearly warming back up to things.

Mission accomplished. Danny grinned.

“Well, previous Ghost King was in nappy time for a couple thousand years, but he had this whole thing about collecting souls to add to his army of thralls, so basically anyone could sign their soul over for a chunk of power. Real charmer,” Danny snorted, rolling his eyes.

It was so far from the worst thing Pariah Dark had ever done, but so far it was definitely the longest lingering annoyance.

“I got the impression,” Jason agreed in pretty much the same tone, prompting Danny to continue.

Which. Yeah. Was more fun than thinking about the mountain of thrall contracts still awaiting their owner’s deaths, which the Observants were still fussing over.

Nobody wanted more thralls, souls wiped clean of everything that made them, well, souls. Just unliving batteries. Even ghosts found them creepy.

On the other hand, there was nothing the Observants loved more than rules. And the rules said a signed contract had to be honoured.

Really they shoulda expected Danny to ask who the fuck signed for Pariah, since he was (again) in nappy time prison. He hoped nobody else died while they sorted that out.

“Danny?”

Ah. Yup, he did it again. Danny shook his head and sighed, kinda missing the wind in his hair. It kept him more present than the enclosed space of the helmet.

“Sorry. So, John Constantine, clever bitch, wrote himself a contract that signed his soul over to the Ghost King, not Pariah Dark. Got through whatever screening was in place no problem, and now he’s my problem.”

A problem that Clockwork had presented Danny with on his fucking birthday no less.

That had been part one of the soul screening process; who was stuck with Pariah by name, and ho boy that was a depressingly long list… and still growing, though it had slowed recently.

News of Pariah losing his crown was slow to spread, and frankly Danny himself could be doing more to help that, except. Well.

Not taking the damn crown himself until he had to. Not wanting to give the creeps of the world anything to call him.

There were a lot of good reasons, okay? And Clockwork had specially singled out Constantine’s contract and delivered it to Danny himself as a birthday present.

“Well, that explains one,” Jason agreed with a snicker, pulling to a stop in front of the police station, “but what about the other eleven times?”

Danny snorted a laugh, sliding off the bike and stretching. As much fun as hugging Jason at high speeds was, he didn’t like being still for too long.

“Tax season,” he explained cheerfully, pulling off the helmet and looking around, “I guess we’re meeting Harley here?”

Snickering to himself, Jason pulled off his own helmet and tucked it into the storage on the back of his bike. Danny passed it over, noting that Jason had also had to get a second little pod for the other helmet.

He wasn’t gonna ask. Maybe they were in storage?

“Yeah, we’re meeting Harley here. Better not to swing by the manor for a while,” Jason added, his expression souring.

Which did make Danny feel a little bad actually. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jason with his family…

But before he could say anything Jason ruffled his hair roughly, shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault, Danny. This kinda shit happens every other week, Bruce gets on his bullshit and I steer clear. He’ll calm the fuck down eventually and remember to mind his own business,” he explained dryly, nodding towards the doors.

Danny hesitated before moving to follow. It felt true, he could feel Jason’s sincere-exhausted-familiar-still over it clear as day, it just.

“I’m still sorry I wound him up though,” Danny finally decided, heading after Jason up and in. Jason who rolled his eyes and held the door open.

“Danny. He winds himself up. You could be a literal angel and he would not fucking care. You couldn’t unwind him even if you miraculously found the key. We’ve all tried,” Jason said with a sigh, though at least the anger seemed to have burned off into just…

Tired.

Jason just felt tired.

Probably cuz he was off fucking around with Cass last night, but Danny wasn’t about to call him out on it.

Not when they’d just walked into the police station (ew) and the wild sight of Harley Quinn, hair in pigtails and dressed in her signature red and black, sat on the duty officer’s desk with a bat. Filing her nails.

Total silence filled the room, broken only by the swing of the doors opening as Danny and Jason stepped through.

The whole room was watching her in a kind of terrified awe, like she was a particularly dangerous bomb waiting to go off. Danny’d swear they weren’t even breathing.

She looked up as the door opened, grinning broadly at the sight of them and waving in a large, exuberant gesture.

“Oh, there’s my boys! Hey boys!” She called in obvious delight, and half the room flinched.

Didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t even been in Gotham for ages, let alone being her former roguish self. She had the kind of presence that left a lasting impression.

No wonder Danny liked her. She coulda fit right in with his ghost friends.

Maybe she’d come join them for fight club.

——————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai

[sarahsmi13s]

Don't Leave Your Wingman

whumptober day 13: grief

pairing: pete 'maverick' mitchell x kazansky!reader (father figure relationship)

characters: pete mitchell, kazansky!reader, sarah kazansky

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, mentions of cancer, canon death, death, fear of being alone, death of a parent, grief, 5 stages of grief, fear of losing family, loss of appetite, anger, mood swings, broken glass, throwing things, please let me know if I missed any

word count: ~1.8k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

i am so so sorry i got this up late, please forgive me

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: you wouldn't leave your wingman in the sky... why should you on the ground?

“It’s come back.”

One sentence. Three words.

That’s all it took for the world to crash down around you.

Your father, your best friend, your wingman, was already dying. 

But with three words he was dead and in the ground.

You started the grieving process the moment your mother told you about the results of your father’s tests. His cancer was back and this time he wasn’t fighting it. So, start grieving now so it doesn’t hurt when he passes.

It should cushion the pain right?

No.

It doesn’t.

Because when you watched Pete Mitchell slam his wings into your father’s coffin, it’s like he’s punching them right through your heart.

You thought you prepared yourself better. Thinking ahead to how everything would be different. Going through the motions of him missing so much of your life, everything he wouldn’t be a part of. You were only 21, you had so much left to accomplish and celebrate with him.

He would never walk you down the aisle at your wedding. He would never meet your kids and tell them cool stories about the famous Iceman and show them his collection of medals and patches. He would never tell them the story of how he met his best friend and wingman, the friendship’s birth captured in a photo on his desk.

He would never tell you he loved you again.

You wanted to hear it one last time… even if it was in that broken, raspy tone.

“How is she?” 

You could hear your uncle talking to your mom outside in the living room. 

It had been a few days since the funeral and you had barely left your father’s office in the living room. You barely ate, your appetite coming in and out as you went through the motions. You just sat in the office, wrapped up in his blanket with his dog tags around your neck or clenched in your hand. You were nearly numb at this point, sitting and staring at the photo of you and him at your graduation.

You had hit the “depression” part of your grieving process. Denial, anger, and bargaining had passed when you learned about the return of your father’s cancer. But you were sure they’d resurface at some point, grieving is never linear and it’s not a short lived thing. 

But when it was something that you prepared for, something that you could see coming from miles and miles away? It should be easier right?

“She doesn’t leave that chair often… I don’t blame her. But I’m worried. You and Ron have been a big help with brightening her days,” you mom said, a gentle smile on her face at Mav. 

It was true, they both had been a huge help. Just sitting with you so you weren’t alone, that you had someone in the room with you also grieving – even if it was different. Both had lost a best friend, your mom had lost a husband. She sat with you too, holding your hand and making sure you weren’t completely alone. She made sure that even though you were both grieving, that you could talk to her. 

Mav looked into the room, seeing you in that position – curled up with your dad’s dog tags in your hand, lips pressed against them as you stared out the window. 

He gave Sarah a hug before walking towards the office doors and knocking before opening it. 

“Hey kid, how can I help today?” 

You shrugged a little bit, not having the energy to do much else. You sniffled and dropped your hand to the desk, pointing to a book that was resting there, “I um… I found that while going through some of his things…”

Sniffling again, you adjusted your blanket, “I can’t bring myself to read it… it’s all in his hand writing…” Mav nodded and came over, “I can read it to you, if you want.” “Please…”

“Would you want to go out on the porch swing? Get some sun, fresh air?” You looked up at him and he could see just how tired you were. You probably got a lot more sleep than you should have, or very little sleep that wasn’t good.

You looked at the photo on your dad’s desk, seeing him smiling down at your 18 year old self in your cap and gown, diploma in your hand.

“Yeah… yeah, that sounds nice,” you said, your voice a little lighter and the ghost of a smile threatened your lips.

Mav smiled and helped you up, grabbing the book and leading you to the swing on the front porch. 

You sat down with him, resting your head on his shoulder as he put the book in his lap.

As he began to read, you both began to notice that these were your dad’s stories. Stories you had heard from him, stories you begged him to tell you no matter how many times you had heard them… All there in a book.

You cried at first, so did Mav. But as he continued, reading your dad’s words and the side commentary he never failed to add, you both started to laugh. 

It was nice to laugh, it helped you begin to feel like everything was going to be okay.

“Today will be better.” 

That’s what you told yourself when you woke up the past few days. 

You could never tell yourself that it would be great or amazing. Because you knew you couldn’t make that promise to yourself. But you could always try better, your best would always vary from day to day.

And you were doing okay. You were making it.

Until Maverick showed up in his whites.

Your heart had sunk like a brick in your stomach.

You knew what those meant.

He was going out with them on the carrier.

That’s not so bad right? He would be safe right? 

But the look on his face as he stood in front of the office's french doors told you something else.

“I was picked as team leader to fly the mission.” 

The brick in your stomach started dissolving, making your stomach acid fizz and bubble up your throat. 

You shook your head, the dusting rag and photo clenched in your fist. “No, no you’re not.. You’re not flying this mission, Uncle Mav… You-you were just supposed to teach it.. You’re a teacher!”

He mirrored your movements, “Admiral Simpson-”

“No!” 

Your shout had startled him, you hadn’t raised your voice in any capacity for a while so your outburst startled him.

“I’m sorry, kid… There’s a chance someone doesn’t make it back and I would rather it be me–”

“So you have a death wish? Is that it? Can’t go one damn day without risking your life like no one is gonna miss you if you burn in, can you?” 

Maverick was unsure how to respond to that, standing there awkwardly as you yelled at him.

“You’re selfish, you know that? The both of you, fucking selfish,” you said, your voice cracking at the end as you poked his chest with the picture frame. 

“B-both… Y/N what-”

“You’re never supposed to leave your wingman… ever. So tell me why I’ve been left behind! Why everyone is fucking leaving me?!” 

In your anger you threw the photo on the floor, glass shattering and the frame breaking apart.

“He left me and now you’re leaving me too!” 

Mav watched the tears streaming down your face as you shoved past him and ran out of the office and out of the house.

Sighing, he looked down and noticed the photo under the shards of glass was the photo of him and Ice shaking hands after saving one another on that mission after graduation. 

“You can be my wingman anytime…”

After your blow up at Maverick, you ran straight to the beach.

The second your feet hit the damp sand on the shoreline you were collapsing to your knees. 

Clutching your chest, you sobbed.

“Why?! Why couldn’t you have just fought? One more time… for me! I need you Dad! And you’re gone! You left me here! And-and now you want to take Mav with you? It’s not fair!”

You fell forward, clutching at the sand, “It’s not fair!” You sobbed, not caring if anyone around you could hear you. You were in pain, you were now not only grieving your father, but you were now going to be grieving his best friend, your friend.

A pair of gentle hands pulled you back up into a seated position on your knees.

“Sweetheart…”

“It’s not fair, Mom!” You shouted, your voice raw with tears as you looked out on the horizon before looking down at the frothing tide, “It’s not fair…” 

Sarah felt tears sting her own eyes at the utter brokenness of your voice, the rawness in it.

She pulled you into her lap, shushing you gently as you sobbed into her neck. She looked up at the sky, “You better bring him home Tommy. Don’t you leave her without a wingman.”

The next week and a half was filled with dread and worry. 

Worry that Maverick would make good on that promise of being the one to die on this mission. Worry that it would be Rooster, someone you weren’t as close to but you knew he meant a lot to Mav. Worry that you would be alone, grieving another father figure.

You barely left the office, sat there in that damn chair looking at that damn computer screen. The last words he typed on it were still displayed.

“It’s time to let go.”

The five words felt like mockery as you read them over and over and over.

How could you just “let go”? Did he really think you hadn’t tried that? Or that it was that simple?

Because it wasn’t. 

You wish you could have just accepted it, that grieving someone as they sat in front of you breathing would have made it easier. But it didn’t. 

You felt like you were on the monkey bars again, the ground miles away from you and you were scared to fall.

“How can I let go when I have no one to catch me?”

As you waited in the silence, for a response that you knew wouldn’t come, a knock sounded through the quiet house. 

Your mom had stepped out to go get stuff for dinner. So you were the only one at home.

Sniffling and turning the monitor off, you got up and went to the front door.

When you opened it, you nearly collapsed.

There on your front porch was Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. He was scraped up a little, but he was alive.

“Mav… Mav!”

He smiled as he caught you, keeping you from falling onto the ground and holding you close as you clung onto his bomber jacket, tears staining the vinyl. 

“You’re here… you came home.”

He kissed your temple, rubbing your back and cradling the back of your head.

“Of course I did, I couldn’t leave my wingman.”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - none

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 17

Late one evening, shortly before Christmas of 1966, Matt rapped lightly on my door and called, “Sattnin, I have to talk to you.” We had a password. Teasingly, I told him he’d have to utter it before I’d admit him. He laughed and said, “Fire Eyes”—the nickname I gave him when he was angry.

He had his old boyish grin on his face and his hands were behind his back. “Sit down, Baby, and close your eyes.”

I did. When I opened my eyes, I found Matt on his knees before me, holding a small black velvet box.

“Baby,” he said.

I opened the box to find the most beautiful diamond ring I’d ever seen. It was three and a half karats, encircled by a row of smaller diamonds, which were detachable—I could wear them separately.

“We’re going to be married,” Matt said. “You’re going to be mine. I told you I’d know when the time was right. Well, the time’s right.”

He slipped the ring on my finger. I was too overwhelmed to speak; it was the most beautiful and romantic moment of my life.

Our love would no longer be a secret. I’d be free to travel openly as Mrs. Matt Sturniolo without the fear of inspiring some scandalous headline. Best of all, the years of heartaches and fears of losing him to one of the many girls who were always auditioning for my role were over.

He was in a rush to show the ring to his father and Grandma and to tell them that we were officially engaged. I didn’t even have a chance to get dressed. Considering our irregular life-style, getting engaged in my dressing room and showing off my beautiful diamond while dressed in a terrycloth robe didn’t strike us as at all odd.

I wanted to share the great news with my parents, but he suggested we wait until we returned to L.A. a few weeks later. Then we could tell them in person; they deserved that consideration. That night, we called my parents and invited them to spend a weekend with us in Bel Air.

On the day they were due to arrive, Matt was as excited as I’d ever seen him. He kept looking out the window, watching for their car. He was dying to show them the ring and almost did the moment they walked in the door, but I managed to keep my hand behind my back until we were all settled on the sofa. The second we were seated, he pulled my hand from behind me and said to my parents, “Well, we just wanted to show you this.”

“What is it?” my father asked, peering at my hand.

“Well, sir, that’s an engagement ring.”

Tears trembled in my mother’s eyes. “My God,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful.”

They were both ecstatic. We loved letting them know that what they’d so long hoped and prayed for had now come to pass. We emphasized the importance of keeping our announcement a secret, asking them to maintain strict confidence even within the immediate family, since the kids might tell their friends at school and then word would be out. We wanted a private wedding, not a celebrity event. My parents agreed with all the plans. They couldn’t have been happier, and all weekend they beamed with pleasure.

In the five years I’d lived with Matt, I would rarely let them discuss marriage with Matt. The possibility of their daughter being hurt was foremost in my parents’ minds. Now they no longer had to worry whether they’d made the right decision in allowing me to leave home at such a young age.

I know that Colonel William asked him to take a long look at our relationship and decide where he wanted it to go. Matt’s attitude toward marriage was that it was final. Although he was monogamous by nature, he loved options. Still, he wasn’t about to let me go. Curiously enough, after his talk with Colonel, it didn’t take him long to decide the time was ripe.

It was his decision and his alone.

In our excitement we made the rest of our plans for the wedding ceremony. It was suggested I find a dress immediately, the reason being that if the news leaked out, we could get married at a moment’s notice. But my search for a wedding dress ended up taking months. Disguised in dark glasses and a hat, I shopped every exclusive boutique from Boston to L.A. where, despite my disguise, I was paranoid enough to think people recognized me. I even spoke with several seamstresses about designs but I didn’t trust them enough to tell them it was for a wedding dress.

Finally someone suggested a little out-of-the-way shop in L.A. Charlie escorted me, posing as my fiancé, and it was here that I found my wedding dress. It wasn’t extravagant, it wasn’t extreme—it was simple and to me beautiful.

I glided out of the dressing room to model it for Charlie, and when he saw me, his eyes filled with tears. “You look beautiful, y/nn,” he said, and whispered, “He’ll be so proud of you.”

It was the February after our engagement. We were driving near Horn Lake, Mississippi, when we spotted a beautiful ranch—one hundred sixty acres of rolling hills. A herd of Santa Gertrudis cattle was grazing. There was a bridge across a little lake, a barn with stalls for horses, and a charming house situated in a prime location. It was for sale.

This was my perfect dream house. I fell in love with it and began to picture Matt and me living there alone. It was small enough for me to handle myself. I could clean it and take care of Matt, bringing him his breakfast in bed in the mornings as he gazed out at the gentle view of Rising Sun grazing in the pastures.

I thought of this ranch as a wonderful way for us to get away from Graceland from time to time. I pictured us saddling our own horses and riding in the early morning or at dusk. My picture was of us alone, without an entourage.

We were determined to buy it, never foreseeing the burden it would become. He wanted the ranch as much as I did, even though James said that at $500,000 it was overpriced. He felt the owner could offer a much more desirable deal and tried to persuade us that financially it was not a good move. Matt’s movies were continuing to decline in popularity and record sales were down. He was averaging a million dollars a film and the money was going out as quickly as it was coming in. Yet Matt’s mind was made up. He wanted it.

James grudgingly went to the bank to borrow money, putting Graceland up as collateral. We bought the entire ranch as was, including cattle and equipment, and christened it the Circle G for Graceland.

We had eighteen horses by then, and all were transferred to the ranch as was the staff of nine. It was the heyday of the commune, but Matt had his own idea about how he wanted us all to live. Since the house on the property was small, he bought individualized mobile homes and designated one to each family. James worked diligently to get permission from the city to put gas and water on the ranch.

“Whatever it takes, do it,” Matt ordered.

Before long, tons of cement were being poured to make the huge concrete foundations for the trailers. It didn’t stop there. He bought El Caminos or Ranchero trucks for each family, even one for the plumber and another for the painter. He spent at least $100,000 on trucks alone.

He continued spending money as if it were going out of style. Alarmed, James literally begged him to stop, but Matt said, “I’m having fun, Dad, for the first time in ages. I’ve got a hobby, something I look forward to gettin’ up in the mornin’ for.”

It wasn’t unusual to see him walking around the property, knocking on doors, waking everyone up, or checking on the horses in the early-morning hours. He was having a ball, and there were days he didn’t even want to take time out to eat—he’d walk around with a loaf of bread under his arm in case hunger pangs struck. He loved shopping in Sears’s basement, buying power tools, knives, flashlights, and other equipment that he would come bearing proudly back to the ranch.

That spring of 1967, we spent a lot of time there, sometimes staying as long as two weeks without returning to Graceland. On Sundays we had picnics and all the girls chipped in on potluck, bringing chicken baskets, cookies, and salads. We rode horses, held skeetshooting contests, and combed the lake for turtles and snakes. There was fun, laughter, and a lot of camaraderie. Once again, our life was a group affair with everyone participating.

Even in my tiny house there’d be guests for dinner every night, usually single guys like Steven and Charlie. Cooking for Matt was easy: I’d just take whatever we were having and burn it. But there were so many others that his cousin Patsy would usually stop by to help me. The guys with wives would have dinner in their mobile homes and then come over for dessert and spend the rest of the evening with us.

There was always a lot of jamming. Matt, Steven Wright, and Charlie Hodge would get together in the middle of the room, harmonizing a favorite song. When they were really going good Matt would yell, “Whew! Hot damn! One more time!” He’d sometimes spend an hour just on an ending because it had “the feel—the ingredients of a masterpiece.”

Just as the entourage had followed us to the ranch, so did the curious. The same ones who gathered around Graceland started turning up at the Circle G and soon—day or night—scores of people were lined up along the fence. Since our little house stood in full view of the road, Matt built a ten-foot-high wall, but nothing deterred them; now they began climbing on tops of cars and roofs of nearby homes. We couldn’t get away from them, and I dreaded driving through the gates.

The dream was slowly turning into a nightmare. The wives wanted to get back to their homes, and the children wanted to get back to their friends and their schools.

Matt liked it when everyone was together on terms he alone specified—and he got upset when they wanted to leave. “Hell, I bought all this stuff,” he said, “and everyone wants to go home.” He resented defections; he’d given the employees everything and they didn’t seem to appreciate it. He discovered that some of the regulars were selling their trucks. They needed the cash more than the El Caminos. Matt couldn’t imagine the financial struggle most people face and he never understood that the married regulars had to consider responsibilities to their wives and children.

Still, he enjoyed giving and sharing even as his own bank account was radically diminishing. An expensive hobby, the ranch had already cost him close to a million dollars and created a serious cash-flow problem. In daily phone calls to the Colonel, James pleaded with him to come up with some work to divert Matt from his spending spree. The Colonel promptly made arrangements for another movie, Clambake. Matt read the script, yet another beach-and-bikini story, and hated it.

James convinced him he didn’t have much choice. “We need the money, Son.” And Matt was committed.

“I don’t wanna leave here, y/nn,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you, the ranch, Sun. Ain’t no son of a bitch gonna keep me away long. That goes for Dad, Colonel, the studios—no one. Their little plot to keep me from spending money ain’t gonna work. If I need money, I’ll go to Nashville and record a few songs. It’ll be better than those lousy goddamn pictures.”

Neither he nor James ever considered turning the Circle G into a profit-making operation. All the necessities for a successful farm were present—tractors, feed, and the finest Santa Gertrudis cattle, bred on the Rockefeller ranch—but he sold the cattle after James advised him that upkeep was too expensive. With professional financial counsel, Matt might have pursued legitimate business ventures beneficial to him and his hobby.

Unfortunately, James and Matt were leery of business matters requiring financial advice. James operated on pure instinct, refusing any suggestion of tax breaks, which he found too complicated to consider. He let the IRS figure Matt’s taxes and had done so ever since Matt had been audited while in the Army and assessed eighty thousand dollars in back taxes.

“Let’s just pay the taxes, Dad,” Matt said. “I make enough money. I’ll make a million dollars and I’ll give them half.”

It was during the filming of Clambake that our lease on the house on Perugia Way in Los Angeles expired and we had to go looking for a new home. After our experience at the Circle G, we were concerned with protecting our privacy, and when we spotted a secluded home nestled against a hill in Bel Air, we thought we’d found sanctuary at last. But privacy was to elude us here as well.

Soon, hundreds of people began collecting on the mountain road directly above us and observing the view below through binoculars and telephoto lenses. We could no longer use our pool, patio, or driveway without looking up at an audience, including reporters and photographers who were having a field day trying to get candid photos and scoops.

The situation occasionally got out of hand. One night when Matt went to Mount Washington to talk with Daya Mata and I was driving to Amber Doe’s (Nate’s wife) for a visit, I noticed a car with bright headlights tailgating me. It was one of Matt’s most ardent fans, a two hundred-pound female who was accompanied by another girl and a guy. Feeling unsafe, I decided to turn around and go home. She followed close all the way and by the time I drove through the gates, I was furious.

Seeing her drive up to the dead-end road above our house, I sped after her, parking my car broadside across the road, blocking her. She was standing beside her car when I strode up and demanded: “What are you doing here? Why are you following me?” She stood there mutely and again I demanded: “Why are you following me?”

“You whore,” she snapped.

Incensed, I clenched my fist and swung an uppercut, hitting her in the face. She landed on the ground, spread-eagled and stunned. I landed on her and the two of us yelled, screamed, and pulled hair until I realized I needed help. I ran back to our front gate and yelled into the intercom, “Someone—Sonny, Jerry—come help me!”

Within seconds Matt came flying out of the house with the guys close behind him. “What is it, Baby?”

When I explained, pointing to the ridge, Matt went charging up the hill. Seeing him coming, the girl and her friends locked themselves in her car. Matt was livid, lifting the car on its springs, bouncing it from side to side. He pounded the windshield, threatening to kill them if he ever got his hands on them or if they ever laid their hands on me.

“I’m underage! I’m underage!” she kept yelling. “I’ll sue you if you touch me.”

It took a lot of convincing from Sonny that she was more trouble than it was worth before Matt would let her drive away.

Matt was so despondent over Clambake that his weight ballooned from his usual 170 to 200 pounds by the time he reported for work. The studio ordered him to take the weight off—and fast. Enter the diet pills, the only way he could curb his appetite and reduce his weight in the short time allowed. Colonel managed to deal with the impatient studio brass.

The morning he was to begin shooting he awoke groggy and went into the bathroom while I was still in bed. I heard a loud thump, then cursing. “Goddamn motherfucking cord! Who the hell put this thing here?”

I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom, calling out, “What’s happened?” He was lying on the floor, rubbing his head.

“I tripped over the goddamn TV cord. It was so damned dark in here I didn’t see it. Help me out of here—I have to lie down.”

Although he was dizzy and off balance, we managed to make it to the bed. Feeling a big lump on his head, I called Nate Doe at once, who summoned Colonel William and a doctor. Within minutes, the room was full of people—the doctor, his nurse, Colonel William, and several nervous studio executives. Colonel suggested that everyone but himself wait outside while the doctor made his diagnosis.

A few hours later it was announced that Matt had a severe brain concussion and that the start of his film would be delayed indefinitely. The Colonel decided to use the accident to curtail some of Matt’s other activities. He wanted Matt to abandon his involvement with esoteric philosophies, which the Colonel felt were irrelevant to Matt’s acting career and detrimental to clear thinking.

Matt’s spiritual quest hadn’t gone unnoticed. Everyone from the entourage to film crews was aware of a change in his personality over the years he’d studied with Larry Geller. Matt’s vibrant personality was now passive and he was becoming more introverted. The mischievous games he’d once played on movie sets had been superseded by studious pursuits. Matt buried his head in books that he diligently lugged to and from the studio every day.

The person most concerned about this change was Colonel William. The Colonel felt that Larry’d hypnotized Matt, and his acting and recording careers were suffering as a result. Matt’s “concussion” provided an opportunity to put a halt to the soul-searching.

A few days after the accident, the Colonel gathered Matt and the boys together for a meeting and told them they were burdening Matt with too many problems. “Dealing with one person is one thing,” he said, “but eleven, plus his own problems, is enough for any man to buckle under.”

The Colonel told them that there were going to be some changes, from cutting back the payroll to taking problems to Nate instead of Matt. His basic message was: Leave Matt alone.

“Matt should concentrate on his career,” he said. “He’s an artist, not a shoulder to cry on. Leave him alone, and let him do his work.” The Colonel looked over at Larry; it was obvious that his message was primarily aimed at him. “I don’t want him reading any more books and getting involved in things that clutter up his mind.”

Matt sat and listened like an obedient child, looking down, saying nothing. He did not stand up for Larry; no one did.

Later the Colonel told Matt that he should get Larry out of his life, that Larry used some sort of technique to manipulate his thinking. Matt argued that this wasn’t the case. He was truly interested in his readings.

“You wouldn’t be in this condition if your head was on straight,” shouted the Colonel.

“I’m telling you, Larry’s jamming up your mind.”

I was surprised at how attentively Matt was listening. Matt had always argued with anyone, even me, who said anything against Larry. At one point; it seemed Matt would cut off his right arm for Larry. But now Matt promised the Colonel he wouldn’t spend any more time than he had to with him. He kept his promise. He only used Larry to style his hair and was never alone with him again.

After that meeting, the boys became openly hostile toward Larry, and even Matt began making a few pointed remarks about him. Larry was now the outsider, and he eventually left. Colonel William was elated. His boy was back.

Matt was ready for a major change and it was time to move on. The Colonel said his films were doing badly and he had to revitalize his career. He’d be getting married soon, and before that date he’d have to get his career and life back on track.

After Larry left, Matt locked away many of his books. I told him I was glad, that they were literally destroying us. We were engaged to be married. “Would it make you feel better if I just got rid of them all?” Matt asked. I nodded.

That night, at three in the morning Matt and I piled a huge stack of his books and magazines into a large box and dumped them into an abandoned water well behind Graceland. We poured gasoline over the pile, lit a match, and kissed the past goodbye.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - engaged!!🎀

[shion-yu]

Not Your Fault (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Shu comes down with Alex's cold from last week, but it seems like it’s hitting him way harder. Final part, thank you for reading! Fill for my @badthingshappenbingo space "Secret Caretaking." Original work, 2,360 words. No TWs, CW mild emeto, Alex is 13 here.

The thing about Shu was that if someone near him was sick, he always went down eventually. This had been true forever and Shu was bound to catch every cold and flu that made the rounds at the office he worked in. Usually he could push through it to the chagrin of his coworkers who had the joy of listening to him cough and sneeze for the next several days, but when he woke up this morning Shu knew right away that there was no way he was leaving the house today. Thank God it was a Saturday. 

It had been a few days since Alex had come down with a chest cold. He'd been truly sick for about two days, but as soon as he started feeling better he went back to his old self, attempting to sneak off to Ryo's as soon as he could. Shu liked Ryo a lot and was extremely glad that Alex had a friend, but he had tried to convince Alex to stay in bed for another day. "You still have a bit of a fever bud," Shu had sighed. "What if you get Ryo and his parents sick too?" Alex's face had soured, but apparently pointing out that he could hurt his friend Ryo worked because he had stayed home until the fever was gone. He waited for the twenty-four hour fever free mark and then escaped immediately. Shu was just glad he was feeling better. 

Knowing how his own body worked, Shu had been trying to get plenty of sleep and chugging Emergen-C for the past several days. He was actually hopeful that it had worked and he’d somehow been spared despite living in the same household as a germ-ridden teenager all week.

Now though, Shu knew whatever Alex had come down with had hit him, and it was hitting him hard. Shu groaned and turned over to look at the time on his phone. It was ten AM on a Saturday morning; he never slept in this late. Crap, where was Alex?

Shu forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed. It felt like his bones were creaking in pain and his headache was splitting. He stood up, was hit with a rush of dizziness, and sat right back down. He felt his legs quivering like he'd just attempted to do some monumental task. Had Alex felt this poorly? When he'd wrangled the teen to the doctor he'd just been diagnosed with a viral upper respiratory infection, nothing too serious, but Shu felt like death. If it wasn't for Alex he would have given up attempting to rise from bed at all, but he told himself this was part of being a parent. He'd signed up for this, and parents didn't get sick days off. 

Shu wobbled into the kitchen, leaning heavily on the walls as he went. To his relief he found Alex right away in the living room, sitting on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. He glanced briefly at Shu then did a double take, his eyes widening. "Holy shit, you look terrible," he said. 

Shu snorted with laughter which turned into a chesty cough. He had to sit down. He flopped heavily next to Alex, black spots dancing in his vision. "Thanks a lot, kid. Did you eat breakfast?" He asked, wincing at the pain in his throat.

"Yeah," Alex said. "I think you should probably not be worrying about me right now though." 

"It's only a cold, you know that," Shu said dismissively. "I'm just a wimp." He managed to give Alex what he hoped was an encouraging smile but was interrupted by a loud sneeze which he barely managed to direct away from his distant relative turned foster child. "Huh'AEESHUHh!" He groaned, the powerful sneeze ripping painfully through his aching sinuses. 

"Uh huh. Bless you," Alex said, scooting a few inches farther away from him in disgust.

"Thangks," Shu said, snorting up the snot that had begun to drip from his nose. God his head hurt like hell. "You good here if I go back to bed?" He genuinely couldn't fathom doing anything else right now. Was he just getting old that this was hitting him so much harder than it had Alex? Was this what having a cold at thirty-five felt like? 

"Yeah. Pretty sure I'm safer away from you and your biohazard zone," Alex said dryly. 

Shu didn't point out that Alex was almost certainly the one who'd given him this awful cold. He just nodded and shuffled back to bed, making a pit stop at the bathroom to urinate and grab the thermometer. It had barely gotten a break between uses, he thought as he placed it under his tongue. He looked at his haggard expression in the mirror and grimaced. Should he call his mom to watch Alex, he thought? He didn't think he could keep up with the rambunctious teen like this. He decided against it for now though, not wanting her to think he couldn't handle single parenting just like she had. Alex was thirteen, he didn’t need a babysitter, but he did need to be watched closely to make sure he didn’t do anything problematic.

The thermometer beeped and Shu looked at the flashing 101.8 on the tiny screen. Not good, he thought to himself. He downed two Tylenol and then brought the rest of the bottle with him to the bedroom. He collapsed back into bed and fell asleep before he had time to think about anything else. He spent the rest of the day coughing and sneezing and using an entire box of tissues. His sneezes were most certainly audible in every room in the house. Every cold Shu had seemed to go straight to his chest and this felt like no exception. He could practically feel the junk settling lower and lower in his lungs despite the absurd amount he was already coughing up.

Around lunch time, Shu wobbled to the kitchen to grab more water. Alex was at the table doing school work, which was a nice sight. “Hey bud, you doing okay in here?” Shu asked, wincing at how hoarse his voice had become in comparison to this morning in a mere few hours. 

“I’m definitely okay,” Alex said cautiously. “You look almost dead though.”

“I’m really okay,” Shu reassured him, which was absolutely not backed up by the way he suddenly grabbed the edge of the counter to avoid losing his balance. Alex stood up quickly, face alarmed. Shu waved his hand in his direction, trying to make it seem like he hadn’t nearly fainted. “It’s great you’re doing school work,” he said in an attempt to distract Alex. Predictably, this caused Alex to scowl and go back to what he was doing. However Shu could feel Alex’s concerned expression on his back as he slowly inched back to his bedroom.

He tried to rest, but the cough was really painful and Shu could feel his fever going up despite the Tylenol. He kept thinking about Alex. Could he really trust the kid to take care of himself all day? What if he skipped eating? Not that he usually did that, mealtime was the one thing Shu could actually rely on Alex to show up for but still. Alex was his sole responsibility and Shu wanted him to have more than just enough. He wanted him to feel comfortable and happy. He wanted to take care of Alex so all those bad memories he had became more distant. It seemed like such a monumental task at times though, and right now Shu was in completely new territory. How did he keep an eye on Alex when he could barely lift his head off the pillow?

He made it to dinnertime without incident. Shu hazily warmed up soup for himself. Alex was nowhere to be found. There was a note on the table: ‘At Ryo’s for dinner.’ At least Alex had bothered to let him know where he was and it was somewhere safe. Shu shivered and managed about three bites of the soup before his stomach rejected all of it and more. He dashed to the bathroom with energy he hadn’t known he had and spent the next half hour vomiting into the toilet. He was glad that Alex wasn’t home to hear it. Afterwards his temperature was 102.6. Ouch. Alex’s own fever had peeked at 102.3 that first night he was sick. Shu hoped his own illness was following that same trajectory and it wouldn’t get any higher. 

He forced down a single saltine cracker and two more Tylenol in the hope that it would stay in his stomach, then went back to bed. His stomach and head ached, his chest felt heavy, and Shu was beginning to grow concerned. He hadn’t been this sick in a while and he hadn’t had a kid to worry about that time. He needed to hurry up and get better. He needed to sleep.

He woke up an unknown amount of time later to the feeling of a cool hand on his cheek. It felt nice... Shu forced his eyes open and squinted at the form above him. Alex? Shu was confused. Why was Alex in here? 

"You were moaning in your sleep," Alex explained, noticing Shu's eyes were open now. He looked embarrassed to be caught. He also looked worried. "You feel really hot." 

"Just a fever. I took some Tylenol," Shu said hoarsely, although he had no idea how long ago that was now. “What time is it?”

“Two AM,” Alex said.

“Oh,” Shu said, confused. “Did I wake you up?”

"It’s alright," Alex said, and scurried out before Shu could ask any more questions. Shu didn't expect him to come back and he didn't for several minutes. By this time Shu had almost fallen back to sleep and was barely conscious when he saw Alex slink back into the room with a wet washcloth. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep to save Alex from getting more embarrassed. He felt the cool, damp cloth be placed on his forehead and then heard Alex leave again. Shu fell asleep with his lips turned in a smile.

The next time he became half conscious it was only because he was so goddamn cold. He was shaking uncontrollably with aches and chills. He curled into a ball and tried to wait out the pain, but he felt awfully alone right now. He missed his mom. She was always so good to him when was sick, brewing tea and rubbing his arms and legs and giving him the hot water bottle to ease his chills... Just like... Right now?

Shu opened his eyes. Somehow the hot water bottle had appeared in his arms, as well as an extra blanket on top of him. He listened carefully, but there was no quiet chatter of Chinese radio in the background that always accompanied his mom wherever she went. He did hear the sound of water running in the bathroom though, and then Alex's voice saying something like, "He'll be fine, Ry, right?" Shu wanted to reassure Alex he was definitely going to be fine, but he felt too weak and sleepy and soon lost consciousness again.

The quiet chatter of Chinese radio when he came back to his senses was a sure sign his mom was there now. "Ma?" Shu croaked, forcing his eyes open.

He could smell his mom's distinct perfume as she came to his bedside and rubbed his chest. "Háizi. Boy call me, say that you sick."

Shu slowly processed what that meant. Alex had called his mom, Fulu. "Where is he?" Shu asked.

"Friend house," his mom said. "He upset, think you dying."

"Ugh," Shu said, concerned at the thought of upsetting Alex. "Ma, didn't you tell him I'm fine? I always get high fevers..."

"He no listen. Just like his bàba," Fulu said. She handed Shu her phone, silently instructing him to do exactly what Shu already wanted to - to call Alex. He didn't think it was worth correcting his mom right at this second - that he wasn't Alex's dad. Alex was his kid, and so it almost fit. He wanted it to.

Shu's hands shook as he found Alex in Fulu's contacts and called him, pressing the phone to his ear. Alex picked up right away. "Is he okay?" Was how Alex answered.

Shu coughed in surprise. Alex sounded genuinely worried. It would have been touching if Shu didn't feel so guilty about it. "Alex? I'm fine bud. I just have a fever, that's all. Same as you did, just a little worse. I promise." 

There was silence on the line for several seconds. Shu was worried he'd hung up. But finally Alex said, "You weren't getting any better, even though I did the same stuff you did." 

Shu felt a rush of affection. Alex really had been trying to take care of him, even though it was supposed to be the other way around. "It'll be a few days, and then I'll be right as rain," Shu reassured him as confidently as possible. "Do you want to stay at Ryo's this weekend?"

"Can I?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"Of course, if it's okay with his parents. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. I just need you to understand that you don't need to worry about me. Thanks for calling my mom. I'm glad you got help when you were scared."

"I wasn't scared," Alex shot back, but Shu knew he was lying. "Can you call me again when you feel better?”

"I feel better hearing your voice," Shu said with a smile.

"Ew."

"Sorry," Shu laughed, which quickly became several wet coughs. "I'll text you every time I'm up, alright?"

"Alright," Alex agreed. "Um... I hope you feel better soon."

Maybe it was because he felt so rotten, or because he was relieved that Alex was okay, but Shu felt tears spring to his eyes. He swallowed and tried not to let his voice waver as he said, "Thanks buddy. I will. See you soon."