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xhoneygirlxx · 1 year ago

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Love To See Me From Your POV

rockstar! Eddie Munson x wife! reader

summary: Seeing Eddie on the road for the first time should be an exciting moment but when your insecurities rise, you wonder if this is the life you were cut out for.

warnings: angst. reader is insecure: mentions of self hatred and low self-esteem. Eddie and Reader are both in their twenties! Rockstar Eddie. Eddie does call groupies gross. mentions of rough marriage. Eddie and reader fight! slight cheating accusations. fluff. Eddie is the sweetest husband, reader and Eddie being in love and cute. Smut 18+ Only, Minors DNI!! : mentions of sex with groupies, p in v (unprotected), cream pie, slight breeding kink, slight dom/sub, body worship/praise, oral receiving (reader), fingering, squirting. shit writing and bad grammar. Not proofread!!!!

If I missed any please let me know! *

a/n: Hello my loves, I got a request from @kellyxo1 for this little thingy right here! I hope this is okay and I hope you enjoy! Thank you all again for being so wonderful and lovely to me :) And remember if you ever want to request something, you're more than welcome!

There isn't a booklet on what to do and what not to do when you get married, and there's definitely not a booklet on how to be a rockstar's wife. Married life in itself is a difficult task, but learning the ropes of being married while also dealing with the life of fame was something you or Eddie was prepared for.

Getting married right after Eddie's third senior year was always the plan, two young and dumb freshmen solidifying it with hooked pinkies. Obviously you loved one another more than life itself, but going through the motions of being married at the ripe age of 20 is harder than any fairytale make it out to seem.

It was hard that first year, constantly worried about bills, overtired from working long shifts to pay said bills, and just learning how to live with one another. But in between all the hardships, there were small moments where both of you remembered what it was all about. Eating thirty cent noodles, decorating for holidays, the quiet Sunday mornings where you'd get tangled under bed sheets. The love that both of you hold for one another drowning out every other shitty thing around you.

The second and third year, your whole world flipped upside down. After getting lucky and getting picked up by a big record label, Corroded Coffin was now the hottest new band on the market. You remember the day the boys got signed, how most of them shed a tear of happiness, and how happy your husband looked. A moment in time that was now frozen in a picture that hung on your fridge.

You were so proud of the boys, watching them go from a crowd of seven drunks to recording their own album. There was something so special about being there with your husband for every step, cheering him on from the sidelines every time. When the album finally dropped and the number of sales went up, Eddie surprised you with the keys to the little house on Deer Run Road, the same one that the two of you always fantasied about owning.

Although he worked mostly in LA, he told you he planned on staying in Hawkins where he could still get privacy while being close to the people he loved. You also loved it because you wouldn't have to leave your job at the daycare and your husband would always come home to you.

Now on year four, you were the loneliest you've ever been. Between touring, recording, and everything that comes with being in a band, Eddie has barely home. You can't be mad at him though, he's following his dream all while providing a wonderful life for you. Of course there are nights you'd rather have him in bed with you, reading that old torn copy of Lord of The Rings rather than a phone call, but you're just glad he even has the time and energy to do so.

It was hard for the both of you, many times the two of you cried together, confessing the horrible ache that nestled itself in your hearts. You felt terrible, never being able to visit him because your schedule didn't line up with his. That's when you decided you were going to take a week off, fly to whatever city he was in, and surprise him.

With the help of Steve, who pretty much taught you the in's and out's of flying, and the band's personal assistant, you were able to buy a ticket to New York where CC would be performing their final show. That night when Eddie called you, you were buzzing with excitement and it killed you not being able to tell him.

On the way to Eddie's hotel was nerve racking. What would he think of you? Will he like how you changed your hair? Will he be shocked with how much I changed? You wondered how different he looked since the last time he saw you, the only way you got to see him was through your tv or on a cover of a magazine, and you never know how accurate those things can be.

Standing in front of his hotel room was daunting, blood rushing to your ears as your anxiety reached a whole new level. It felt like you never met him before, like he hasn't seen every single part of you or known you since he was a young man. The shakiness of your hands were only getting worse the longer you sat there, you decide it was now or never.

Raising one hand to the peephole, blocking it with your finger so he wouldn't be able to see, you use the other hand to knock on the heavy door.

"Housekeeping!" You disguise your voice the best way you can, making it high pitched and nasally.

Knocking once more, you cringe when you do it harder than before, remembering that he's probably tired from all the travel he's been through.

"Housekeeping!!" Still using the fake voice, trying to soften the blow of your heavy hand you sing the last little bit of the word.

From behind the door you can hear shuffling, yet there was no footsteps heard.

Raising your fist once more, you knock again and this time you can hear him shout something back.

"GO AWAY!" It comes muffled through the door that separates the two of you.

"Good morning, it's housekeeping!!" you cover your mouth with you hand trying to stifle the giggle that fall from your lips, knowing your husband is probably cursing to himself in anger.

Eddie's heavy footsteps and huffing are the only things coming from the room, then the door is being swung open causing the land that was leaning on it to fall dramatically.

In front of you is the man you married, hair messy from sleep, plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips, and bare chest on display. He looked so pretty, rubbing his closed eyes with the palm of his hands, pink lips jutting out in a pout, and puffy cheeks.

"I already told you to go the f-" Cracking one of his eyes open to adjust to the harsh light of the hallway, he finally sees you.

"Baby?" His raspy voice in a whisper, like he's questioning if you're real or not. Tired eyes that were once too heavy to open are now bulging out of his head, cartoonish and wild.

"Hi, Teddy." You whisper back, a saccharine smile breaking out on your face.

The air that once lived in your lungs are quickly punched out the moment he lunges towards you, gripping you up and twirling you around. In the middle of a swanky New York hotel, the two of you hold on each other, squeezing tightly to make sure that neither of you will float away in the clouds of a realistic dream.

"My baby, my beautiful girl," You hear it before you see it, the thickness of his sleepy voice does nothing to hide the shakiness. The tears of mourning you, fall from his eyes hitting the exposed part of your neck where he finds solace.

"I'm here, Teddy. I'm here." The dam you've built to hold back your own tears, has finally busted open. The tears of long nights and a cold bed fall onto his warm skin, the one thing you wished to feel once more.

Moving apart slightly, big brown eyes finally meet your own, taking in the imagine of the people they love the most. Teary eyes and stuffy noses, wobbling lips and heavy breathing, two souls reuniting after too much time away from each other.

Planting his forehead to yours, you bask in the feeling of being close. Eddie's warm lips touch yours, a sweet and tear soaked kiss makes you melt.

"I missed you so much, angel." He confesses, the warmth of his breath mixing with your own.

"I know the feeling." You joke and the both of your share a laugh.

"You know," he whispers, forehead still touching your own, "I want to be mad that I'm up at the ass crack of dawn, but you're such a beautiful sight to be woken up to." A gooey smile spreads on his lips and like a yawn, you mimic his actions.

"So you're not interested in housecleaning services this early in the morning?" You question and he snorts at your bad attempt of a joke.

"Angel, you know me better than that." He says and you roll your eyes.

"Now," Eddie lets you down gently, your feet returning to the carpeted floor. "If you don't mind, I would love nothing more than to fall asleep with the sexiest woman in the world."

Leading you into his room, he proves his point by slapping your ass hard. When you turn around to chastise him, you're met with him biting his bottom lip and his gaze still on your ass.

"Oh yeah, I'm gonna have so much fun with you." The morning rasp in his voice is replaced with a husky, lust soaked hunger.

Tossing you, lovingly, on the bed, Eddie pounces on you like a tiger. Attacking you with kisses, you try to push him off as best as you can, weak from all your laughter.

"Teddy, I still have to shower!" You shout causing him to pause over you. Catching your breath, you run your hand up and down his arm softly. "I still have yucky airport on me."

Eddie leans down and licks your cheek and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. "Oh yeah, that's my favorite flavor."

"You're such a dork." You tell him and he only smiles bigger down at you.

"Yeah but I'm your dork, Mrs. Munson."

The morning was spent with discovering each other again, not just physically but emotionally. You update him on the kids at your daycare and new Hawkins drama, while he tells you about the antics the boys have gotten into and all the cool stories from this tour.

You missed it, the simplicity of marriage. Even through all the time spent apart is torture, you still find the beauty in the small moments. Like the thirty cent noodles, you enjoy the peace and comfort of whispers passed back and forth a room that isn't your own.

All the bliss you felt from this morning has now been flushed out, now replaced with the roaring waters of doubt. You watch your husband on stage, singing songs he wrote, like you did way back when. This time the crowd isn't just drunk bar patrons, it's beautiful woman screaming his name.

They're all perfect, tiny bodies and big breasts, full hair and flawless makeup. They're everything you're not, everything you never will be. This was the one part of the job you never read about in your how to guide. This was the one thing you forgot to teach yourself about, how to handle millions of woman fawning over your man.

You weren't naïve of course, you knew that the guys had groupies, but you liked to push that into the back of your mind. You trusted Eddie more than anything, you knew he would never do anything to ruin your marriage, but that wasn't the part that had you so upset.

It was the idea of not being good enough that was eating away at you. Like everyone else in the world, you had insecurities. You went through stages with your self consciousness, earning a few battle wounds to your confidence along the way, but over time you became comfortable in your own skin.

This wasn't Hawkins though, this was the big city, and your "small town pretty" is no good here. All of the woman here could chew you up and spit you out, beating you out by miles in a beauty contest.

Your self hatred starts to write over the happy memory of watching Eddie on the biggest stage you've ever seen. Embarrassment fills your body, numbing you from head to toe. You feel so stupid, the clothes you wear are nothing compared to what they wear, you probably look like a clown in the makeup on your face, and your hair is probably flat and dull now.

This wasn't what you signed up for, this isn't in the job description when you sign on to be a rockstar’s wife. You already have to worry about the safety of not only your husband but the rest of the boys too. You worry about Eddie and if he's eating enough, if he's getting enough sleep, and if he's taking care of himself. There is already so much on your plate and you don't think you can handle worrying about the fact that you're not good enough.

The wave of guilt hits you when you look back over to your husband. His beauty is powerful, sometimes it makes you want to cry how pretty he is, and you know deep down he deserves better. Rockstar Eddie Munson deserves a girl that looks like one of them, not someone like you. It makes bile rise in your throat when you think about how he has to watch his friends pick up women from different cities and he has to sit by himself because his old ball and chain is all the way back in nowhereville.

Having a front row seat of your own demise is too much, deciding it would be better to watch on the monitor in the green room. When you're finally alone, it doesn't get any better. The large mirror that hangs on the wall captures your attention, calling to you like a siren to a fisherman.

Taking a seat, you begin to pick apart every single detail of your face. You criticize the shape of your eyes and where they sit, the length of your nose and how the shape sits weird, and how the pores that sit on your skin are way bigger than you remember.

The loud voice in your head pleads with you, begging you to stop before it's too late. "DON'T RUIN THIS" it screams and the demons that have overtaken your mind push it away, not wanting reason to ruin their demolishing.

When the guys enter the room, you realize you've been staring in the mirror for longer than you intended, almost like you were hypnotized.

"What a great fucking show!" Gareth announces as he grabs a beer from the mini fridge in the corner of the room.

"I agree." Grant says as he plops down on one of the leather sofas, exhaling loudly as the adrenaline crashes through him.

"This crowd was definitely the loudest one we've had." Jeff's voice is louder than he thinks. Clapping his hands together, he signals at Gareth to throw him a beer.

"So, what do you two lovebirds plan on doing now that touring is over?" Grant asks, leaning up from his slumped position to look over at you.

Eddie wipes his neck and face off with a towel, stalking over to you with a blissed out look on his face. Leaning down to you, he places a sloppy kiss on your forehead, removing with a loud 'mwah' sound when he does.

"I planned on taking my girl around the city before we head back home." Eddie is still looking down at you, almost like he's questioning you if it's fine with you.

Returning a fake smile, hoping he doesn't notice it doesn't reach your eyes, you nod your head to let him know you approve. A guttural moan pulls your attention to the brown haired boy over who's now sitting on the opposite couch of Grant and Jeff.

"You two are grossly in love, it actually makes me sick." Gareth rolls his eyes and the roar of chuckles ring out in the room.

"You act like we don't have a line of hot ass babes waiting for us." Jeff laughs and Gareth hums as he swallows the sip of alcohol.

"Very true, Jeff. Very fucking true." The boy laughs in agreement.

You know that their comments hold no malice to you but it stings all the same. All you heard was, "Too bad for Eddie, we get to fuck hot girls while he's left with that." It loops through your head, digging a deeper hole, bringing up every bad thought you've ever thought about yourself in the twenty something years you've been alive.

Everyone continues to talk, laughing and joking like they always do and the only thing you can do is get lost inside the storm that tears through your body. The feeling of Eddie's fingers dragging along the skin on the back of your neck has long been forgotten. The voices have all gone muffled, your own demons speaking loudly over them to even try to understand what they're talking about.

"Angel?" Eddie calls and it brings you out of the darkness of your brain.

You hum, craning your neck up to look at him. He's breathtaking, you think, even in the horrible lighting of this dressing room he looks perfect and it crushes you even more.

"You 'kay? Haven't really said much." He says, only loud enough for you to hear, not wanting to bring unwanted attention.

"M'fine, just kind of tired." You shrug. Flashing those pretty teeth at you, he smiles and it makes you sick with love.

"I'm sorry, Angel. I know I didn't give you much time to recover from the flight... and other things." He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows, earning him a light shove from you.

Leaning down once more, he captures your lips in a loving kiss and a small portion of the tension in your body fades.

"See, I told you! Sickening!" Gareth shouts, his arm stretched out and hand face up, directing everyone's eyes to the two of you.

Bashfully, you shove your face into Eddie's stomach to hide. Draping his one arm on your back, he twists his body slightly to look at the others.

"Gareth, you're clearly jealous I get to kiss my smokin' hot wife." Eddie shouts, and a collection of groans fill the room.

If only you could believe the nice words your husband said.

That night in the hotel room, you tell Eddie you're simply too tired to partake in any sexual acts, which he doesn't protest. Laying in the comfort of his strong arms arms, the thoughts are too loud to melt away to sleep. You wonder what Eddie dreams of as you lay awake, if he ever regrets marrying you, and if he wishes he could partake in the same things as the guys. You cry softly, tears pooling on the fabric of your pillow, praying to whoever to is listening to make it better.

The next morning, Eddie is like the energizer bunny when he wakes you up from your four hour sleep. Going to the local diner down the street, Eddie talks about how fun the show was, moving his hands dramatically as he retells you every detail. You try to look interested, smiling and laughing when needed but truthfully you aren't paying attention, you don't even chastise him when he speaks with a mouth full of food.

Afterwards, he shows you around the city and all the sights it offers. It pains you that you can't even enjoy it, too focused on everyone else around you, comparing yourself to every woman that walks past.

Eddie notices, he's noticed since last night but he didn't say anything. At first he genuinely thought you were tired since you never really traveled before, but when you sat across from him at the diner and poked at the food on your plate, he knew. Despite what a lot of people thought, Eddie wasn't stupid. There are many things he had knowledge on and his best subject was you.

He didn't know what was particularly bothering you but he knew all too well. You were in your head about something, beating yourself up about something that wasn't worth the fight, but he knew you could make it out. You always did.

The problem was you didn't fight out of this one. You stayed locked away in the torture chamber that was your mind and let the problem eat you alive. Eddie did everything you always talked about doing, showing you the places you dreamed about and you still didn't crack.

When you returned back to the hotel room, it was oddly quiet. Even Eddie who never stopped talking, was scarily silent. Sitting down on the bed, you started to talk off your shoes, working at the laces slowly.

Eddie stands in the doorway, leaning his body weight on the wall for support. His gaze burns into you, uncomfortably so and you're terrified to even look back at him.

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong?" His tone is serious and it terrifies you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you meet his gaze. His arms are crossed over his chest and his features are harsh, waiting for an answer.

"I told you, I'm tired." You lie right through your teeth and like a metal detector he catches it, scoffing loudly and shaking his head.

"I need you to cut the shit, Angel. What is wrong?" He questions again and it ignites a fire within you.

"I told you, I'm fucking tired Eddie. Sorry I'm not you, I don't travel the world for a living." You snap at him.

"Are you- What the fuck did I do?" He argues back and you sigh heavily. This isn't how you wanted it to go but all the emotion from the past four years are coming out in knife like jabs.

"What the fuck did I do," You mock him. "What did you do? I'll tell you what the fuck you did. You left me, you fucking left me. Don't worry Eds, I'm happy for you, trust me. I love knowing that I'm the old ball and chain back home that keeps you from fucking groupies. But it's fine if you look, just not touch, right?"

When you're done you feel worse than before. Eddie stares at you, frown pulling on his lips and big glossy eyes that stare back at you. God, you want to kick yourself for making him feel like shit. This all could've been prevented if you just talked to him, let him in on what was happening but no, the demons won and they shot Eddie down while doing it. The worst part is, you pulled the trigger.

"Is that what you think?" His voice is small, something you've never heard from him and it breaks your heart.

"Fuck- I didn't mean that. I just-" Closing your eyes, you try to compose yourself but it doesn't work. "I just miss you so fucking much. Last night I couldn't even enjoy the show because all the tits that were on display in the front row distracted me. All I could think was 'how could he want me when all of these beautiful woman are better than me?'"

"So instead of watching the end of the show, I sat in front of the mirror and made a list of every ugly thing about me. My body, my face, my voice, every fucking thing about me is horrendous. Then when the guys mentioned fucking groupies, I felt so guilty 'cause while they're out havin fun, you have to sit there all alone because I'm all the way in Hawkins."

It all comes out like word vomit, laying on the floor of the hotel room, filling the room with the stench. Your ugly truths are now out there, you're so fucking vulnerable and all you want to do is hide.

"Are you dumb?" Eddie's voice brings you out of your pity party. Staring at him in shock, you can see his own tears staining his face.

"Do you realize that it kills me not being with you? Every city we go to, all I can think about is you and how much I want to take you there. Those girls you're talking about, the ones the guys screw around with? Yeah, I've seen them and let me tell you, they're gross." Stalking the short distance, he takes a seat right next to you on the bed.

"Do I get jealous because they get to have sex? Absolutely. It's not 'cause of the girls they bring home, it's cause I wish it were you. So many nights I laid awake, jerking off to the thought of you and it was way better than any fucking groupie could do for me." You snort at his admission, rolling your eyes still not believing. Grabbing your chin, he pulls your attention up to him.

"I'm so fucking serious, Angel. I'm so in love with you, it's maddening. Sometimes when I call you, I can't help but blush like I'm back in the ninth grade again. It blows my mind every single day that I got to marry the gorgeous girl from Click's class." His words are like warm butter, melting over you and seeping into your skin.

"Do you really mean that?" It's meek and unsure, like you're scared of what the answer could be.

"Cross my heart." He simply says, marking an 'X' over his heart with the tip of his finger.

Sniffling loudly, you wipe away the tears that roll down your cheeks. "I'm sorry, Teddy." You say and he hums, resting his forehead on your just like he did twenty four hours before.

"It's okay, baby. Trust me, I feel the same way sometimes." Furrowing your eyebrows at him, he laughs at the scowl on your face.

"Not like that, baby. I just mean, I get scared one of those hot dads are gonna try to pull a move on you when they drop their kid off." Between the serious look on his face and the honesty in his voice, you can't help but cackle.

"Eddie, who exactly would pull a move? Mr. Gardner? He's like forty and wears a very bad toupee." Eddie tries to cover the snort that comes out with a fake a cough.

"Hey, maybe you're into that kind of thing." He simply shrugs and you roll your eyes.

Settling into a comfortable silence, Eddie kisses you lightly and you pout when he pulls away.

"Can I show you how much I love you?" Your eyes scan his face for a moment before nodding.

"Please." That's all he needs to hear before he's placing you on your back, your head being cradled by the soft cotton pillows.

Eddie starts by kissing you, sweet and slow, reminiscent to the time you and him lost your virginities. The only difference about this time is he knows what he’s doing, confident in the way he glides his tongue against yours.

Moving his attention along your jawline, he places small lingering pecks down your neck. His hand moves down the sides of your body, finding purchase on the bottom of your shirt where he tugs softly on the material. Getting the hint, you sit up and help him pull the garment over your head, your bra is quick to follow.

Laying you back down on the soft cotton of the pillows, he continues his journey down your body. Soft lips leaving prints of love along your collarbones and down your sternum, invisible prints of love collect on your skin where they burn bright and settle into your bones.

“My sweet girl.” He trails more kisses around the doughy flesh of your breast.

Finding the hardened nipple, he swirls his tongue around it before pulling it into his mouth, lightly sucking on it before pulling off with a pop.

“My beautiful girl.” Moving his attention to the other breast, he repeats the same motions from before.

Moving down your tummy, he continues to map out his journey, leaving lingering tattoos onto your skin. Finally making it to his destination, he toys with the waistband of your jeans, popping the button open and pulling the zipper down.

Lifting your hips, you assist him in taking of the restrictive clothing. In one swift action, he rips off the jeans and panties that once covered you. Feeling exposed and shy, you whimper up at him to get his attention.

“What’s wrong, princess?” His tone is concerned and it makes you pout even more.

Wordlessly, you reach your hand down to grab the hem of his shirt where you yank gently. Catching your drift, Eddie pulls it over his head and let’s it fall to the ground where the rest of your close reside.

“You were feelin’ shy, huh?” You nod at his question and he leans up to press his lips to the tip of your nose. “Gotta make sure my girl is comfy.”

Shuffling himself onto his tummy, he places your legs over his shoulders so he can be face to face with your glistening sex.

Kissing the inside of both of your thighs, you squirm trying to move him to the one place you need him most. Tsking loudly, he looks up at you with a correcting gaze.

“Be patient,” he scolds and you listen, biting back your fussing and fidgeting.

A deft finger runs up your slit, moving your slick around as it does. “This pretty cunt is so miserable, huh? She’s sad without me there to make her feel better.”

Taking two of his fingers, Eddie spreads you open to exposing your core causing you to hiss when the cold air hits you.

A swift lick of his tongue hits you like a bullet train, all at once it’s too much but not enough. A sob leaves your throat when he stops, glassy eyes meeting the dark one of your husbands, pleading with him for more.

“You know,” While the pad of his thumb over your aching clit, he continues to keep eye contact with you, “I don’t like when you talk badly about my wife.”

“The strong, smart, loving, and breathtaking woman I married,” He continues his ministrations, not using his other hand to trace around your hole, “Doesn’t deserve to be talked badly about.”

He continues teasing you, not inserting his fingers into your clenching hole and not giving your bundle of nerves enough pressure. He’s making you sweat it out and you think you might die.

He coos sweetly at you, faux pity on his features as he does. “I know, honey. S’it hurt? Want me to make you feel better?”

“Please, Teddy. Please please please.” Your begging falls on deaf ears though, Eddie just continues his evil plan of torture.

“I’ll make it better,” Putting his mouth close to your cunt, you can feel his warm breath and you shy in relief. Moving away quickly, he looks back up at you and you fight the urge to yell at him. “But first, I want you to say you’re beautiful.”

“Wha- Eddie, no! Just fucking- God, just eat me out already!” You yell and he mocks you by laughing.

“Baby, I can leave you high and dry and be perfectly fine. So unless you want to get yourself off, I suggest you do what I say.” Although you know Eddie would never make you take care of yourself, his threat hits you like a lightning strike. His cool demeanor and stoic tone makes you believe every word he said.

“I’m beautiful.” It comes out in a whisper, so low he barely catches it.

“Nuh-uh, say it louder.” Eddie corrects you and the buzzing feeling over embarrassment burns your cheeks.

“I’m beautiful.” This time it’s louder but you don’t sound convincing.

“I want you to believe it. Want you to be nice to my wife.”

Something about the words being said to you makes your heart beam. All of Eddie’s statements to you have been chipping away at the guarded walls of your mind, casting light on the darkness that overshadows it. You start to believe him, you start to let the positive and loving words bring you out of the insecurities that plague your thoughts.

“I’m beautiful.”

You say it at the same volume but this time something in your eyes let’s Eddie know you believe the words you say. The glimmer of light that disappeared 24 hours ago, has finally returned to its rightful spot.

“There’s my girl.” Dimples flash at you before he dives right into you.

Eddie’s tongue replaces his thumb, adding more pressure to the pulsating spot. The finger that once teased you, is not fully seated in you, curled just right while it pumps in and out of you.

He’s not doing much, basically just warming you up for what’s to come, but something about it lights you on fire. The adoration Eddie has for you is being poured into your heart, lighting your body in a glow that he only manages to bring out of you.

Your moans grow louder when Eddie starts sucking on your clit, another finger shoved inside of you moving in and out in a faster speed than before.

You arch off of the bed like you’ve been possessed, whimpering and withering around making Eddie use his unoccupied hand to push you back down.

“Shit, you’re s’tight.” Eddie’s voice comes out slurred, drunk off of the taste of you.

“You gettin’ close? You gonna cum for me, Angel?” You don’t have the energy to answer, too lost in the feeling of your stomach tightening.

Slowing down the speed of his fingers, you huff in aggravation. Eddie’s voice pulls you back down to reality, your bliss slowly starting to fade away.

“I’ll let you cum if you say you’re perfect.” Lifting up on your elbows, you look down to see him already staring at you.

“Eddie I’m not-“ You’re immediately cut off by him, his tone more commanding than before.

“Say it, or you won’t cum at all. I just want to hear you say it.” He begs, his pace starting to quicken and his thumb now going in figure 8’s on your clit.

You’re quickly hurdled back to the euphoria you were just pulled out of. Eyes rolling around in your head, whining as the string in your stomach pulls tighter.

“I’m, shit- M’perfect. Your perfect wife.” You’re a blabbering mess, head thrashing back and forth in ecstasy.

“I’m gonna cum. Teddy, please!” You beg and he gives you exactly what you want.

“Go ‘head, Angel, let go f’me.” With one last stroke on that sweet spot, you’re catapulted into the paradise of your release.

It feels like you’re floating above the clouds, weightless and free. You don’t feel the gush that splashes your thighs or the sheets, and the voice of your husband is nothing but an angelic voice ringing out.

You return back down to the soft mattress, boneless and melting into the bed. When your breathing calms and you finally have the strength to open your eyes, you’re met with a Cheshire Cat like smile and the soaking face of your husband.

“You did such a good job for me baby,” Kissing you sweetly, you can taste yourself on his lips. Pulling away slowly, you bring your arm to his pants, rubbing your palm along the outline of his hard cock.

Shaking his head, he gently grabs your wrist and puts it above your head. “This is about you, Angel. Wanna make you feel good.”

A quiet okay leaves your lips and he continues to work himself out of his pants, letting his dick bounce out of its confides. Saliva pools in your mouth, the desire to taste him takes over and you whimper.

Chuckling at your pouty face, he moves back between your legs that you parted for him. When he runs the tip of his aching cock through your folds, you both hiss on contact.

Lining himself up, Eddie brings his hand to your hip where he rubs his thumb in soothing circles. Both of you moan in unison when he finally breaches your entrance, a feeling neither of you have gotten used to.

Pushing himself further into you, he takes his time to let you adjust to his size, something you still haven’t gotten used to. He stretches you out so nicely, filling you up like nothing else you’ve ever felt. Nothing can compare to him, every bump and ridge of his cock making it even better.

Lacing his fingers into yours, he hovers over you as he starts thrusting slowly into you. A choir of moans are made between the two of you, singing a song better than anything Eddie’s ever written.

With the way your legs are wrapped around his waist, you try to push him in deeper, wanting to stay this close with him forever. This isn’t just about fucking or getting off, this is about the man you fell in love with all those years ago and how he’s appreciating you. He’s trying to show you just how much his heart yearns for you.

“So good, so fuckin’ good for me.” Eddie pants heavily as he thrusts the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix just right.

“Always so good f’me, Angel. You take such good care of me, such a good wife for me.” He’s babbling at this point, reaching the tipping point faster than he thought.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, all you can think about is how much love you love each other, how good he’s making you feel, and how he was able to pull you out of the darkness of your horrible thought.

Removing his hand from yours, he snakes it down your body to find you abandoned clit. With the added pleasure, you clench harder around him and the air in your lungs seeps out in a high pitched gasp.

“I can’t wait to fuck my load into you, baby. Gonna get you nice n’ round, show everyone you’re mine. You want that? Want me to fuck a baby in you?” His voice echoes in your ears and travels down into the pit of your belly, getting you closer to the edge.

“I wan’ it, s-so bad, Teddy. Wanna feel it.” You’re babbling, toes curling at you tippy toe over the line of your orgasm.

“F-fuck you sound so pretty when you beg. Come on, Angel, cum for me.”

And just like that, both of you unravel together. Him painting your walls in his release, while you guys around him. Eddie works both of you through your highs, thrusting sloppy and lazily into you until he can’t anymore.

Eddie doesn’t pull out of you right away, not wanting to let go of the feeling so soon. He lays on your chest, trying to settle his breathing as best as he can. Bringing a hand to the top of his head, you rake your nails softly into his hair.

Humming in delight, Eddie kisses your chest as a thank you. A small blip of time in a long year, the kind that makes the bad days all worth it. The secrets whispered in hotels and lingering trail that still burns on your skin, invisible kiss marks left for reminders.

It’s worth it, all the hardships and long months, when you know he’ll always find his way back to you. The sweet boy from 9th grade that promised his heart to you, now sings his undying love to you for thousands of crowds to hear.

More tears leave your eyes, not in sadness but in pure happiness. You’re so fucking in love with him and sickeningly so, just like Gareth said.

Swiveling his head up to you, Eddie rests his chin lightly on your chest.

“Hi.” He says meekly.

Eddie doesn’t question your tears because he has tears of his own and he knows they’re for the same reason.

“Hi.” You parrot back to him, a wet smile adorning your lips.

“Do you believe me now?” Sweet brown eyes pulls you in, sucking you in as they stare at you.

“Yeah, I do.” You reassure and he smiles.

Using his free hand, Eddie takes his finger to trace shapes over your heart. You melt when you feel him draw a heart with your initials and his on the inside.

“I wanted to tell you,” He flits his eyes down to his finger where it doodles on your skin, “the guys and I have a break now that tours over. So I was thinking..”

A pregnant pause settles between his statement and he makes no moves to finish it. It reminds you of the first time he asked you on a date, nervous and fidgety.

“What is it, Teddy?” Lifting his chin with your fingers, you raise an eyebrow to coax him into answering.

“I was thinkin’ maybe we could try, ya know, for a family or somethin’. “ Eddie’s cheeks and the tips of his ears are coated in a pink blush.

Your heart picks up and you know that Eddie can feel it under his finger. Smiling with all your teeth, you cheeks ache from the stretch.

“You wanna have kids with me?” Your voice is only a whisper and he giggles at you.

“Well I don’t know if you noticed but, I just blew my whole load inside of you.” The bluntness of his statement makes your cheeks burn. Slapping your hands over your face, you cover yourself from the embarrassment

“Hey, don’t need to get all shy on me now,” Pulling your hands away from your face, he smiles smugly at you. “If I recall correctly you were the one all like “yes Teddy ugh please!!”.” Eddie mocks you and you roll your eyes.

“Bye the way, I’ve been counting every eye roll since you got here and I promise your in trouble when we get home.” He points and accusatory finger at you causing you to clench around him.

“I love you, Teddy. Thank you.” You place a kiss to his lips and he smiles brightly at you.

“Don’t need to thank me, baby. I’m glad I’m here to remind you.” Pecking your lips once more, he pulls a way with an even bigger smile.

“Also, I love you too, Mrs. Munson.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader

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praisetheaxolotl · 4 months ago

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The Arsonist Theory, Part 2: We Get It, The Billboard Was A Metaphor

Part 1: Mandibles!

First off, I want to say thank you all for giving the first part of my theory such love! I appreciate each and every one of you and I'm so happy that you all like my theories so much!

For those who are new here, the Arsonist Theory proposes that Bill wasn't alone in destroying his dimension- rather, he was used by a third party. This is part two of four, with the remaining two parts coming out very, very soon.

Also, same as before:

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK OF BILL, INCLUDING SOLUTIONS TO CIPHERS

Let's get into it, shall we?

In The Great Gatsby, certain motifs have more than one symbolic meani-- no, really, stay with me here!!

...Okay, fine. Let's back up.

In the Book Of Bill, you'll find a webpage called thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com. Go there, and you'll be prompted to enter a password. Go back to the Book of Bill, and hidden in a stretched-text section, you'll see the phrase NEED A PASSWORD? FINE, I'LL TALK / IT'S THE NAME OF THE EYEBALL DOC.

"The eyeball doc" is from the excerpts of The Great Gatsby further back in the book-- T.J. Eckleburg.

(Honestly, this explanation is moreso that context doesn't get lost to time.)

So... Gatsby. T.J. Eckleburg.

Hirsch could have chosen any number of public domain novels for that gag in the book... so why this one? Why tie it in by making it the password?

I believe it has some significance to the greater plot. Furthermore, eye doctors in general are a large point of Bill's early life in Euclidia. Take the silly straws- the red one has a numeric cipher, while the other three use a Caesar cipher.

In the order of RGBY, they read as follows:

TWISTED OUT OF SHAPE AFTER THE KILL / THE GHOSTS OF HIS FAMILY ARE HAUNTING HIM STILL Eye doctor of a different kind / Who wants to make his patients blind The doctor says / Three sips a day / Will make the visions / Go away Fussy eater / Baby Billy / Wouldn't drink / Unless it's silly

These ciphers refer to a certain couple of tidbits Bill tells us about his home.

One- He could see the third dimension. A rare mutation.

Two- Talking about it at all was illegal.

So, what were his parents to do when their son started talking about nonsense that was illegal to even mention? Well, if your child started acting strange and seeing things that weren't there... you would take them to the doctor.

It's clear to me that Bill's parents were concerned about the "visions" their son was experiencing, and took him to the doctor to cure them- an eye doctor that wants to make his patients blind. The blue straw explains how the medicine is supposed to work. The yellow straw explains why Bill has such a fondness for silly straws- he was a picky little kid, and hated his medicine, so his parents got him silly straws to drink it out of.

I wonder if that's why he collects them- because they remind him of home, of his mother urging him to take his medicine, of his life before all of this happened.

But never mind all that.

The thing is, an eye doctor is crucial to Bill's past, which of course brings me back to T.J. Eckleburg.

In The Great Gatsby, certain motifs have more than one symbolic meaning, and the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg are no exception.

(Okay full disclosure, I have not actually read Gatsby and I'm Sparknotes-ing this shit. But, so did all of you when you were assigned this in high school, so we're even.)

They appear on a billboard in a place called the Valley Of Ashes, and at first, they seem to symbolize God. But as the scenes continue, they take on a different meaning.

See, our POV character, Nick, is going on this journey to meet the mistress of his friend. Nick is aware that this is an immoral action, yet does it anyway. Now, the eyes of Eckleburg cast judgement... along with issue a warning.

They now take on a new meaning-- a foreboding omen about the tragedy that lies in wait, inching ever closer. The tragedy in Gatsby being the death of Myrtle, the mistress, and subsequent string of deaths that follow it-- and, curiously, Nick states that the eyes of Eckleburg almost supernaturally draw him someplace... which ends up being where Myrtle is.

Both a higher being, and a warning of a horrible tragedy that ends in death upon death upon death... curious!

What's more curious is when Bill is admonishing the story and Un-Gatsby-ing us, he says this:

The billboard is a metaphor? Why mention that? Out of all the symbolism in this book, why the billboard? Is it because it was mentioned in the preceding pages? Then why mention the theme of the American Dream being a myth? That wasn't on those pages! If you had to mention symbolism, the green light would have been the most iconic example of it from the book.

So why the billboard?

Is, perhaps, the image of some sort of higher power watching you, admonishing you of the tragedy you will have a hand in causing, supernaturally pulling you to someone that will be the catalyst for it all.... relevant somehow, to Bill?

(And, as a sidenote- the theme of the American Dream being hollow could also apply here, as Bill got what he wanted- freedom into the third dimension, Weirdmageddon, all of it. But he's still not happy and still wracked with guilt over Euclidia, ultimately an interloper in a place he doesn't belong in, just as Nick says at the end of the novel that he is a Midwesterner unsuited to life in the East Coast city.)

Let's talk about Flatland.

It's interesting to note that in the original novel, A. Square does have help witnessing the third dimension-- a Sphere contacts him, and tells him about the third dimension, intending to use the Square as a conduit to educating the rest of Flatland.

This, of course, leads to mass imprisonments and executions, one of said imprisonments being of the Square's own brother, with the Square being imprisoned himself at the end of the book.

Point being... in the original story of Flatland, the two-dimensional outsider was visited by a higher being, one that used him to alter Flatland and only ended up causing chaos and ruining lives.

All I'm saying is, the Book of Bill and Bill's story in general draws parallels to two existing books-- Flatland, and now The Great Gatsby. It would be foolish to write this off as a random occurrence when the game of Gravity Falls has always been analyzing the smallest of details. I believe the choice in book was on purpose, and moreso, that it was specifically used to hint that maybe Bill wasn't alone in all this. There was some kind of higher being that influenced him, just as the Square was influenced. That looked down upon him with impossibly wide eyes, pulling him closer and closer to ruin.

Oh, by the way-- Bill up there mentions being touchy about his weaknesses ever since... something. This is clearly his death, but... is that all he means? But that's gonna be in part four.

Next time, it's all about the many cycles and the distinct breaking of them present in Gravity Falls itself, and what that means for Bill as the villain and foil to them.

Part 3: Journey To The Vicious Spiral Nebula

Part 4: Blame The Arson, Not The Fire

#bill cipher #gravity falls #bob spoilers #gravity falls theory #tbob spoilers #the book of bill

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decayofroses · 2 months ago

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Succession war Kurapika

I've completed all the available HXH chapters (400), and there were a few scenes that really stood out to me with Kurapika.

I love and adore him as the main character of this arc, and we've seen his perspective and his downward spiral in yorknew.

Seeing him now, and how far he's strayed definitely makes his POV the most interesting to me.

I wanted to point out/ talk about some of the panels throughout the SW.

This panel especially stood out to me, and it's one of my favorites out of the entire manga. He mentions how every time he got a part of his brethren back- he lost something. While I think it could be a physical presence, I think he's talking about himself here more than anything.

Each time he's threatened, coaxed, paid people off, he's lost a part of himself.

Kurapika strays away from his relationships, while to protect them- and also what I believe is out of guilt (and the other which I'll go over in a moment). I think he knows what he's doing to himself, and I don't think he can handle facing it head on, or risking harming his friends physically or emotionally.

And again, when Kurapika agrees to join the zodiacs.

Straying even from Leorio, it's clear he'd rather face things alone, and without distractions. Which is exactly what they are, distractions.

His quest to collect his family is coming to an end. "Where would I go?" I think he means this in a literal, and metaphorical sense. Where will he end up by the end of this? Which path will he go down? He has no place to call home, and he truly believes he has nothing left, and nobody to welcome him back.

Despite having allies, and who quickly became close friends.

He didn't realize it at the time, but shortly after teaming up with Bill and others- he understood the importance of allies.

"Things didn't proceed so simply", things weren't as simple as gathering pawns, and walking the path of revenge alone.

He formed genuine bonds that mean more to him than simple pawns for his quest. He's now torn between his isolation, and his care for his friends. Despite this, he will continue to punish himself and walk this path alone- it's much harder than he'd originally intended. Pushing his friends away to complete his goal, because it serves as his only purpose in his eyes. Even if he knows it's wrong.

Oito asks if spying on the 4th prince is for his convenience. Kurapika takes a moment, and tells her this is simply a strategic choice. I don't think he's lying, but I do think he wants to protect her, and wobble- while still keeping contact with the Prince.

At the moment, he will prioritize protecting the two of them. I think it happens to align with his goal, but it isn't necessarily for his convenience.

The reason I bring this up is to highlight that despite the fact he wants to push his friends away, and work towards his goal- he won't risk the lives of others.

He says he will repeat it as many times as needed, that they are there to protect her and the prince. To trust him.

He tries to be someone who will risk everything for the sake of recovering the eyes, but deep down he can't. Much like how he cannot truly abandon his friends, only isolate himself.

Kurapika is loyal, and unwilling to sacrifice others for the sake of his goal. He forced a stalemate, and took advantage of his nen knowledge to level out the playing field. A stalemate buys them more time, making it so it won't be as easy for experienced nen users to take advantage of non nen users.

It was a brilliant idea that may be risky, but also offers protection for him, and the queen.

During this conversation with Mizaistom, it's clear that Kurapika has not abandoned all of his morals, he wants to avoid killing the Prince despite having the remaining eyes. He would rather try other methods, and is opposed to killing.

Mizaistom and Kurapikas dynamic is one of my favorites, but that's for another time.

That's all I have to talk about, for now. I wanted to go over my favorite panels, and his relationships in the succession war.

#kurapika #hunter x hunter #hxh 2011 #hxh #succession war #dark content #kurapika kurta #leorio paladiknight #mizaistom nana #oito #analysis #character analysis #kurapika analysis

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

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In Silent Screams (1/3)

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

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

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanda—”

“Good night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She dials Agatha's number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, nodding in concession. “Touche.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? How was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause ensues, both understanding the unsaid implications.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, babe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All he says is, “I know. I'm sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

To just be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanda, wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but—”

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

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

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

“But there are lines we’ve crossed—”

“Lines society drew for us.”

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

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

And is this one of her 'true' desires?

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

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #my writing #category: angst #iss #my fic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n

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raya-hunter01 · 4 months ago

Text

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 11

Not My Sister’s Keeper

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Pensacola, FL

Kara’s POV

After my requested Jey didn’t say anything. I could tell he was not expecting that, but I needed to tell my dad what was going on. He deserved to know and not by a phone call or seeing it on the news.

“Are you sure?”

“Not really, but I know it’s what I need to do.”

“Then I’ll take you.”

The next thing I knew, we were back on the highway heading to my parents.

I felt overwhelmed, as so many things I had long buried, flooded back to the surface.

“I remembered my mother having that man in my dads house,” I said so quietly that Jey almost didn’t catch it.

“What? While you were there?” Jey asked in disbelief as I nodded almost playing everything over in my mind.

“He was so devastated, and angry when he found out Tia was his. In remembering it now, all I can think about is how almost the same thing almost happened to us, Jey.”

“But it didn’t lau pele, you found out before it was too late.” Jey said kissing my hand.

I didn’t say anything else, my mind was too busy trying to play catch up, and wondering how I was going to react when I saw my mother.

I wanted to be calm, but I felt my anger rising as we pulled into my childhood home, remembering all the lies.

The realization that the hell I went through with Tia all my life, my mother allowed her to do it because she needed Tia to keep her secret. It all made sense as to why she defended her always.

Tia knew about Terry and could blow her world upside down, but hurricane Kara was coming.

----

Kara’s Parent’s House

Jey’s POV

It knew this was going to be bad….Fuck, I knew it was and I couldn’t stop it. I promised I wouldn’t say anything and to only get involved if things went too far. I followed closely behind Kara as she knocks on the front door getting no answer.

“Maybe we should just come back in the morning? It is late baby.”

“The hell we are,” Kara said using her key to open the door and walking inside. “Dad! Where are you?!”

Yea….This was gon’ be bad.

“What is wrong with you coming up in here screamin’?” Rebecca said coming downstairs as Kara stormed into the living room.

“Your what’s wrong, Dad!” Kara yelled as her mother tried to shush her. “Be quiet he’s upstairs trying to unwind, what’s got you all upset stormin’ through here like a tornado?”

“Terry Kendall, the bastard you had layin’ up in my daddy’s bed…. You know Tia’s daddy… Dad!!!” Kara screamed walking away from Rebecca who stumbled back a few steps in shock.

“Wait..Wait don’t do this Kara, don’t hurt him. Kara, please.” Rebecca cried as Kara waved her off unfazed by her tears.

“Like you’ve been hurting him?” Kara asked picking up and throwing their family portrait that had been hanging over the mantel. “What the hell are you doing?!” Rebecca screamed dodging the flying portrait before it landed at her feet.

“Lies…Just lies..All of this shit is lies!” Kara yelled turning back to the mantel knocking every framed picture off the mantel. Grunting in anger and frustration as one by one they crashed to the floor, glass shattering everywhere.

“Kara! Calm down and let me explain. Don’t tell him, please,” Rebecca begged as I saw Bill at the top of the stairs.

“What the hell ya’ll got going on down here?” Bill asked jogging down the stairs as Rebecca blocked Kara from walking towards him by grabbing her arm.

“Get yo’ hands off me,” Kara hissed as I jumped in between them. I knew what was about to come next if I didn’t get Kara. Rebecca was about to meet a different side of her daughter.

“Aye, she came to talk to her dad. Now let her talk and don’t touch her,” I warned as she took a step back.

“Talk to me about what?…….What’s wrong baby?” Bill asked as Rebecca grabbed his hand, pulling him into a hug as Kara looked at me not believing the gall of her mother.

“It’s nothing baby go back upstairs, and I’ll be up in a minute. Kara’s still upset about tonight and I was trying to calm her down.” Rebecca said, as Kara scoffed.

Oh, she really gon’ hold on to the lie until the very end. Yea, Tia gets it honestly.

“Tell him mama, and I mean all of it.” Kara demanded as Bill pulled away from Rebecca as she tried to hold on to him for dear life.

“Don’t do this Kara, just leave with Josh, go home.” Her mother pleaded.

“I ain’t doing nothing! I’m actually giving you a chance to tell him the truth because Tia decided to let her therapist in on your little secret and they reported it!” Kara yelled as Rebecca gasped shaking her head.

“Told what secret? Anybody gon’ tell me what the hell going on?”

“No, Tia didn’t…She wouldn’t.”

“Oh, yes, she did and I’m sure by the end of the week it will be all over the news. So, you betta get to talking.”

“Since she won’t tell me, you tell me,” Bill said gently pulling Kara towards him.

“Dad-”

“Bill don’t do listen, it’s nothing baby,” Rebecca said trying to pull Bill back towards the stairs.

“I tried to talk to you, but you obvious hidin’ something so now I’m talkin’ to my daughter,” Bill hissed snatching away from Rebecca as she tried to stop Kara from revealing her secret.

“The judge that was in charge of the trial is Tia’s biological father. Mama has been lying to you all these years, Tia isn’t your daughter,” Kara blurted out as Rebecca reached over to slap her, but I stepped in front of her catching her hand.

“Jey, let her do it! I been on pause, cause she my mama but she can get it, let her go! Let her do it!” Kara screamed as I grabbed her, trying to create some distance between them.

“Aye, you ain’t fightin’ and you betta keep yo’ hand to yourself before I let her go.” I warned Rebecca.

“She had no right, Josh!” Rebecca screamed as Bill seemed to be in shock. I couldn’t blame him, everything he has known to be true was a lie.

“I had no right?! You really trying to make me the bad guy in your bullshit!”

“You had no right Kara!”

“No! You had no right lyin’ to us all these years. You had no right sleepin’ wit that man in the bed you shared with your husband.”

“Ah, shit,” I mumbled knowing it was about to get worse.

“And you damn sure had no right going to him to get the charges against Tia reduced.” Kara said unfazed by her mother’s hysterics.”

“Wait? You had this motherfucker in this house, layin’ in my bed?!” Bill’s voice boomed as Rebecca continued to sob, not believing everything was crashing down around her.

“I-I-”

“Stop stuttering and tell me!” Bill shouted making Rebecca jump back in fear.

“Yea, mama, tell him…. Tell him how you wouldn’t let me and Tia in the house when he would come around so ya’ll could have sex.” Kara said casually as her mother paled at the revelation.

“Kara,” I warned seeing the look of anger on her dad’s face growing. He was about to lose his shit and I couldn’t blame him.

“Rebecca! Talk damn it!” Bill yelled as Rebecca collapsed to her knees grabbing his leg.

“Ok! Ok! I admit it! Everything she said is true!” She sobbed as Bill looked down at her in disgust.

Kara’s POV

I told her and I feel bad for causing my dad pain, but he needed to know. He needed to know, there were too many damn secrets around here. No wonder we were all so fucked up.

“I loved ya’ll so much, and didn’t want to lose you Bill,” my mother cried as I rubbed my temples.

“You really did me like this Becks…Me…. Tell me this a joke,” My dad whispered looking at me for answers.

“Dad, they have a DNA results and records of mama taking money from him. It’s real, Mr. Reiner called and told me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, she’s been lying to you and whatever you do with that information is on your choice, but I had to tell you.”

“Bill, I’m so sorry, Tia’s still your daughter. You raised her and she loves you, please understand,” my mother pleaded.

“I guess it’s finally your time to reap what you sowed, huh.” My dad said. His anger boiling at the surface.

“Bill-”

“Tia round here leaving chaos in her wake, leaving you with a child to help raise cause’ she has no mama. Donavan never comes to visit, Kara almost died!! Our daughter almost died at the hands of her sister, who is now in Jail!”

“I love you so much bill and our kids. I’m so sorry-”

“No, you don’t, you had plenty of time to tell me about Tia, but you didn’t. Then you went and ask his bitch ass to help Tia after she almost killed my child….My CHILD! Not yours, MINE!”

“She’s our child Bill, they both are. I swear I never meant to hurt ya’ll. I just couldn’t let her tell anyone!”

"Whatever was necessary to keep your secret, right? Get up off the floor beggin’ like a dog……. Your just as evil as Tia is, matter fact you worse,” my dad said calmy walking towards the stairs as my mother picked herself up off the floor running behind him.

“Don’t walk away from me!” she screamed, jumping in front of him, pulling on his shirt trying to stop him from walking away.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” My dad yelled pulling away from her. “Woman, you gon’ make me hurt you! Is that what you want me to do!” his hands suddenly wrapped around her throat.

“Dad, No!” I screamed as Jey rushed over to them, pulling my mother behind him as she caught her breath.

“Aye! Calm down, go get your stuff. Bill it ain’t worth it,” Jey said walking with my dad upstairs.

“Bill, where are you going?!”

“Away from you before I hurt you, and I end up in jail. Sitting up here defending Tia and she really pulled a you on Kara, Roman, and Jey. You make me sick!”

"Dad-"

“I’mma make sure he straight before we leave, don't worry,” Jey said as I headed towards the front door to wait for him in shock. I can’t believe he choked her, but at the same time couldn’t blame him.

Hell, I wouldn’t mind a round or too myself, but I know she’s my mom.

“So, your just gonna leave……I’m still your mother Kara, and I love you.” Her desperate voice almost broke me, but I refused to look at her or give in.

“I love you too, that’s why this hurts so bad mama.” Finally embracing the hurt I allowed my unshed tears to fall.

“We can fix it baby…Just let me, I can’t lose you too.”

“You know what’s so sad mama? You’ve already lost me, and I don’t think we can ever find our way back.” I whispered as Jey and my father came back downstairs.

“You’ll hear from my attorney,” my father said not giving my mother a second glance storming out the house.

“Will you be alright?” Jey asked my mother as she sighed.

“I ain’t got no choice but to be?” And with that she went upstairs as Jey put his arms around me.

In that moment, I knew I still loved her. She was my mother, but I couldn’t just forgive her, too much damage had been done.

“Let’s go home lau pele .”

“Ok.”

Maybe time would heal some wounds and we could try to move forward, but for right now I was going to focus on my own life.

------

Three Weeks Later

Hilton Garden Inn, Atlanta, Ga

Jey’s POV

I hated I had to leave Kara and come back to work but she insisted. I tried to call her earlier and we talked a little. She had gone to court today and told me they interviewed her as she left.

Pulling out my iPad I went to the Boston news station’s website.

The headlines were everywhere about the corrupt judge that wanted to save the daughter he never knew. Well, that was the narrative Terry was painting in order to protect Rebecca who had still been trying to contact Kara, but the line of communication was radio silent.

“Damn finally,” I muttered finding the video.

“This is WCVB Channel five news and we’re outside the courtroom where last week not only was corruption exposed but deep family secrets. Local judge Terry Kendall resigned last week after it was brought to light, he showed bias in a court case in which his love child committed a crime against her own sister and said sister’s ex-husband. Terry Kendal’s heart felt apology to Kara Morris was one that moved the courtroom to tears.”

“Should have had jail time too, corrupt ass,” I hissed.

“Judge Kendall, though resigning from his position of power last week was informed today he would be disbarred. Mr. Kendall stated in court today he worked alone and did it on his own accord. The case will now be appointed a new judge and Tia Morris with be resentenced. The new resentencing date can be anywhere up to a year from now, but the defendant will receive credit for time served. Let’s see if we can get a word with Ms. Morris.”

“A'ight, you had better kept they ass in line Reiner.” I mumbled looking at him and Kara coming down the courthouse steps.

“Ok, my client will answer a few questions and we ask after this that you respect her privacy.”

“Ms. Morris how are you feeling after today’s outcome?”

“I am grateful that Mr. Kendall stepped up and took responsibility for his actions. I hope he finds peace and his family is ok. I know first-hand what secrets can do to a family.”

I felt proud watching her stand on her own and answer their questions without hesitation.

“Speaking of that, how do you feel knowing your sister’s resentencing and the finding of a new judge could take up to a year?”

“Uh, knowing that a new judge will be appointed, and the resentencing will happen, I am thankful. I will be patient and respect the process. Thank you to the city of Boston for ensuring me justice will indeed be served.”

I knew that voice anywhere, it was her customer service annoyed voice. Chuckling, I continued to watch.

“Have you spoked to your mother since you found out that you and your sister don’t share the same father?” The forced smile on her face making me angry. They just had to fucking go there but before she could respond Riener stepped in.

“No comment, my client has been through enough and has answered your questions pertaining to this case. Her personal life is off limits and with that we bid you all good day,” Mr. Reiner said walking Kara through the crowd of paparazzi.

“Assholes, I can’t believe they ass,” I grumbled. I don’t ask for much, but the one thing I hoped was Kara wouldn’t have to wait a year for justice to be served. If we had to wait, we would but I hoped it would be sooner.

Pulling out my phone I tried to call her but got no answer seeing the time I knew she probably fell asleep, especially after today.

“Hey, just wanted to hear your voice, you did so good during your interview. I love you and I’ll call you in the mor-.”

A sudden knock at the door startled me as I ended my voicemail. Who the hell is it at one in the morning?

“Who is it?!”

“Room service, I have your champagne,” a high pitch voice said as I rolled my eyes walking to the door.

“Aye, I ain’t ordered no room service, plus it closes at ten. So, you can gon’ on shawty and take your champagne wit you.” I said as the person on the other side of the door chuckled.

“Ok, I can just go get a return flight back to Boston then, sir.”

“Kara? ” I asked opening the door as she laughed at me. “Yes, Kara,” she said holding up a bottle of champagne.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, scooping her up in my arms and closing the door.

“I wanted to tell you in person how proud of you I am, and how much I missed you,” she whispered against my lips.

“I missed you too,” I whispered feeling the stress of the last few days melting away.

“You seem so down, what’s wrong?” Kara asked. I hated to tell her I actually didn’t make the finals of the King of the ring tournament.

“I love you for supporting me baby, but they decided to go another way with the tournament,” I said as she caressed my face.

“Well, you won in my book and your fans think the same thing too. Just hang in there doody and trust the journey.” she said making me smile. She hadn’t called me that since we were kids.

“I’m tryin’ baby, I’m really trying,” I said trying to remain positive. “Just be your amazing self and everything will fall in place.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” I smiled against her neck holding her close, almost afraid she’d disappear.

“It’s no other place I’d rather be.”

The frustrations of work are long forgotten, Tia, Rebecca, and all the other drama, just a distant memory.

All that existed was us and that was all I needed. Kara was right, my time would come, and I should enjoy the journey.

Matter of fact we were going to enjoy this journey together.

----

One Year Later

Kara’s House

Kara’s POV

“Kara did you get any sleep? You tossed and turned all night.”

“I got a little, I’ll sleep when this over today.”

“Least we can rest after court, mama said she was going to cook for us tonight,” Jey said as I nodded erasing the line I just typed.

I was trying to finish my victim statement to read in court today, but I just felt like it wasn’t coming together.

“Bae, you heard me? Jey asked as I popped my fingers and yawned.

“Ugh, this is so dumb, who comes up with this shit. I can’t think and I’m just over it. I might not even give a statement.” I ranted as Jey leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips before taking my laptop.

“Let me see what’s got so far, you stressin’. I told you last night I would help.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with this, you had the show and got in late,” I said as he read what I had written so far.

“Bae, I already know the problem. You trying to sugar coat this shit instead of being you and telling the ugly truth. Tell them and Tia how you feel.”

“If I do that, I will be up there talking all damn day, Jey.”

“So, what, it’s your truth and you need to talk about it.”

“Joshua is right sweetheart,” Mama Fatu said coming into the kitchen and sitting beside me.

“Did you sleep good Ma?” I asked as she smiled holding my hand.

“Like a log, I needed that after the long flight but enough about me. How are you?” she asked as I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m fine,” I whispered as Jey kissed his teeth, somewhat annoyed at my dismissal of my feelings.

“She’s tired and stressed out over this victim statement.”

“Kara, you shouldn’t type it, just go in there today and just speak from the heart.”

“I didn’t want to miss anything, so I wanted to type it up and print it Ma.”

“Kara, trust yourself, you got it,” Jey assured me as I tried to shake my nerves.

“Well court is in two hours, so I kind of have no choice now,” I said starting to finally eat.

“Did you talk to your dad?” Jey asked as I smiled.

“Yea, I was on the phone with him while he was at the doctor’s yesterday. The splint is healing fine, but he can’t travel right now.”

“I’m glad he’s doing better, and I know he will be doing even better when he gets this good news today.” Mama Fatu said putting her arms around me in a comforting hug, speaking positivity into the atmosphere.

“Thanks, Ma.”

Ugh, I knew I needed to get started, but I dreaded today because I knew today was going to be a long ass day.

You got this Kara…. Today all of this ends, go in there and do what you gotta do.

----

A Few Hours Later

Boston Municipal Courthouse.

Rebecca’s POV

I had to be here today for Kara and Tia both. Maybe I could finally talk to Kara and try to get us back on the right track or at least start talking again.

“I could say I'm shocked you're showing your face here, but then again I know you so I’m not surprised, Rebecca.”

What the hell is Josh’s mom doing here? Still trying to swoop in on my baby, I see. She ain’t gon’ rest till my baby is a Fatu and callin’ her Mama.

“Tani don’t start, I saw you swarming around my daughter in there, probably got her calling you Ma n shit too. Just acting like I don’t exist, Josh, up in there acting like her bodygu-”

“Keep my son’s name out your mouth and news flash Rebecca, she has always called me Ma! Where did you think she was going when she would storm outta your house upset damn near four times a week? My house, that’s where.”

“What am I supposed to be impressed because I’m not Tani.”

“No, you’re supposed to care and realize that you were a piece of shit parent and try to make it right.”

“You bitch.” I hissed as Tani chuckled.

“Now let’s not call each other names you gutta snipe.”

“Ugh, look, I ain’t here to fight, I’m just here trying to make it right and be here for Kara. Show her that I am trying, I’m not even gonna bother her.”

“All I know is you better not make today hard for Kara or you’re going to have a problem with me.”

“You know what? Bye, Tani…It was good to remember why I don’t talk to you.” I said pissed off at the fact she even approached me.

“You hurt Kara and I’mma reintroduce myself to you like I did all those years ago.” Tani gloated.

“Ugh, whatever,” I hissed leaving her in the bathroom alone.

I needed to get back inside the courtroom, Kara was giving her statement.

Jey’s POV

Kara was doing great speaking to the court even at times looking at Tia who was having a hard time looking Kara in the eye. Feeling my mother’s hand on my shoulder, I moved to let get her by so she could sit down.

“My sister shot me in the back and tried to kill me. Tia, you hated me that much, you went from wanting to be me, to killing me.”

I cringed at her use of her words, but she was right. I can still see her lying there lifeless and being scared to death as the EMT worked on her.

I am forever indebted to him because he never gave up and he brought her back to me.

“I say killing me because I stopped breathing…..I stop breathing Tia….. I died as you laughed and taunted Josh to hurt him.” Her voice full of pain as the nodded, somewhat dazing out.

“My lord Joshua.”

“Mama, it’s ok,” I told her as looked at Tia in shock.

“Ms. Morris do you need a moment?” Judge Carlton asked, picking up on the change in her demeanor.

“No, I’m fine.” Clearing her throat, and glancing back at me. “You got this,” I mouthed pointing at her as she nodded before turning back to face the judge.

“Listening to the joy in your voice as I received medical attention is disgusting and it really drove home two important things for me. You have no concept of consequences or empathy. And your actions have left unforgivable scars, and a beautiful child without a mother.”

“Uh-huh, tell her bout herself,” I muttered filled with pride. She had found her voice and was finally telling Tia and everyone how she felt.

“Your father has owned up to his wrongdoings and took the consequences, which was him being disbarred. Now it’s your turn and I pray justice is swift and befitting of the crimes you committed against Me, Jey, Roman, Trin, and most importantly Logan because she didn’t ask to be here or to be a pawn in your games.”

“Real swift at that, needs life in prison if you ask me,” Trin whispered as I looked back at Rebecca who was in tears.

“Tia, I hope you find peace because I have, and I forgive you. I just can’t forget that because of you I almost lost my life, I lost my mother, and I lost you, my sister.”

Rebecca, sobbing in the back of the courtroom was irking me to no end.

“I know that it doesn’t matter either way to you, so I’m ending this by letting you know that I wish you well, but it’s my time to take back control of my life.”

She had done it.... She spoke from her heart and conquered her fear.

“That woman got the nerve to sit on this side of the courtroom after all she’s done. She’s just as guilty as her daughter, now back there fake crying,” my mother hissed lowly glancing back Rebecca.

“Order in the court please we don’t need any whispers, I know it's been a long day but we are almost done,” Judge Carlton said as my mother zipped her lip and held up her finger.

“Not you confessing it was you with the church finger, Ma. That judge didn’t even know who did it. I got to teach you betta,” Trin chuckled as I joined in.

I love my folks, we gon’ clown at the craziest time.

“Chill ya’ll,” Roman whispered as my mother scoffed. “Boy, I’m grown and since we talkin’ you shoulda’ kept your lil peta in ya’ pants. Still pisses me off that you did that to Kara and you lucky she’s being cordial to you.”

“You did so good baby,” I told Kara giving her a hug.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Morris, for sharing. This case, though not easy, should have never gotten this bad but I pray you all find peace as justice is served. Will that being said will the defendant please rise.”

Kara’s POV

It was like everything was moving in slow motion as the judge reviewed the charges and talked about the video evidence, he had reviewed. We had traveled this road before, but I knew a better outcome was on the horizon this time.

“Tia Morris I am hereby sentencing you to thirty-five years at the Boston’s Women’s prison with the possibility of parole in twenty-five years. Your no contact order with your sister Kara Morris will also still be in place.

“Thank god,” I sighed, happy it was finally over as my mother and Tia’s cries filled the courtroom.

“No….No, it can’t be!” Tia cried as Judge Carlton banged on his gavel.

“Order in this court room! Young lady, I already find your behavior sickening as is and I’m not going to deal with your clown behavior. Get yourself together and I mean now.”

“My client is just a little upset your honor,” her lawyer said as Judge Carlton rolled shook his head. “Well, it’s about time your client realizes actions have consequences.”

“I’m sorry for that your honor,” Tia said as her lawyer shook his head in embarrassment.

“He told her ass off,” Jimmy said with a smirk as Ma Fatu hit him on the knee. “Why you talkin’ so loud, and watch your mouth,” she scolded as Trin shook her head.

“Ma, you just did the same thing.”

“We as parents have to wake up and teach our children right from wrong. Correct them, and don’t put ourselves in situations that can alter not only their lives but those they come in contact with.”

“You said a word then,” I said agreeing with the judge from firsthand experience.

“Your secrets become their secrets. Their hurt from your secrets is projected upon others, ensuring chaos to follow. What is done in the dark will always come to light. So, take responsibility, be a parent and think before indulging in your desires. This court is adjourned.”

“That’s it?” I asked looking at Jey as he smiled. “That’s it baby.” His confirmation releasing a huge weight off of my shoulders as I saw my mother walk towards Tia but stopped herself and walked out the courtroom.

“Well, that was interesting,” Trin said as I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know what it was, but I ain’t got time for it Trin. I’m just tired.”

It was over….It was finally over, and I could finally breathe.

Whatever my mama had going on it didn’t concern me, it’s my time to live my life now.

Next step…. Graduation and deciding where I’m going to do my residency.

Rebecca’s POV

“Tia, I’m sorry sweetie.”

“It’s fine, we’ll just go with the plan, in trying to get me transferred to Pensacola so you won’t have to travel far, and maybe I can see Logan.” Tia said as I looked at her in shock.

Now she wanted to see Logan…What was bringing on this new attitude?

“It’s a good possibility your attorney can get it done under compassionate reasons. Hopefully, he can get it approved and get you back to Florida.

"That’s all I want mama, to be close to you and Logan. You and Logan are all I have left. I will sign over my rights to Roman if he agrees to let you bring Logan to see me. The prison in Pensacola has a family center inside and it looks very welcoming so Logan wouldn’t be scared to come visit.”

“Well, I am glad you are finally getting it together baby. I will get with your lawyer and see what we can get done.”

“Thanks, mama…I promise I won’t mess this one up.”

I wanted to believe her, but I had a nagging feeling this was going to end bad.

“I know you won’t baby…Just hold on and we’ll get you back to Pensacola.”

I hope this doesn't blow up in my damn face.

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kozumesphone · 8 days ago

Text

astronomy

𝓽sukishima kei x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : cassie!!!!! ilysm for requesting this <3 + i'm sorry I didn't write this sooner 😭 I had the best time nerding out about stars in this fic fr! alsoalso it's pretty short, so i'm sorry about that too 😩

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : stargazing , friend!tsukki x friend!reader , both of them like each other but are oblivious , no actual moves are made (maybe part 2) , very very short drabble , reader rambling about constellations (<3) , shooting stars ;

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 0.7k

“the sky is so pretty tonight,” I sighed. tsukishima and I sat cross-legged on our school’s roof.

since we were both a part of the student council, as co-sports captains, we had to stay back after hours to work on setting up everything for next week’s inter-school volleyball tournament that karasuno’s hosting.

we had just finished setting up all the stalls outside the court, and decided to call it a day since it was nearly nine in the night.

exhausted, I flopped onto my back. I pulled tsukishima down with me, and pulled out his arm to rest my head on.

“my favourite cushion,” I mumbled, smiling.

“my time as a cushion is very valuable, I must say.” he said, joking. “I bill by the hour.”

“yes, sir! you’ll get paid for being the best cushion ever.”

“I better.” he grumbled, and the both of us laughed.

after a while of just looking at the stars, tsukishima broke the silence.

“which constellation is that?” he asked me, pointing at the sky.

“oh! that’s hydra! it’s the longest constellation that’s ever been officially named.” I said, starting to ramble about it. “it’s made of, like, 17 different stars. oh my god, i’ve never been happier about how less pollution there is, in our prefecture. anyway, the brightest one there, if you see it,” I pointed at one star. “that’s alphard, or alpha hydrae. it’s like the defining star because it’s brighter than the rest, in the hydra constellation.”

“what about the one above that?” he asked, pointing to a quadrilateral-looking arrangement of stars.

“I think that’s… corvus? it’s symbolised by a crow or a raven. the four ends of the quadrilateral you can see, are gamma, delta, epsilon, and beta corvi. it’s associated with the greek god, apollo.”

I turned to check if he fell asleep, but he was staring at me quietly. he quickly whipped his head ahead, masking his smile.

I traced my fingers over the freckles on his cheek, under his eyes.

“this constellation’s my favourite one of all, though,” I whispered, observing his freckles. no matter how faint at night, everytime I saw them, I had this urge to trace every single one of them. join them like stars join to make constellations, and name them all.

his eyes fluttered close slowly.

I turned back to the sky, my cold fingers still resting against his warm cheek.

before I could continue telling him about the other constellations I could spot, a shooting star appeared at the edge of my vision. I sat up suddenly, and slapped tsukki’s arm.

“it’s a shooting star!” I exclaimed, in awe. “make a wish, tsukki! quick!”

I closed my eyes, and clasped my hands.

I wish I get amazing grades forever. and… I wish this moment with tsukki… lasted forever. I also wish for cute stuffed toys for my birthday this year!

I opened my eyes and turned to tsukishima, who was already looking at me.

“did you make a wish?” I asked, smiling.

tsukishima’s pov:

“make a wish, tsukki! quick!” y/n said.

my heart fluttered at the nickname, even though she called me that a lot. get a grip, kei! I chide myself.

her eyes closed, and her eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

I took in all of her features. the shape of her eyes. the slope of her nose. the curve of her lips. her beauty.

“did you make a wish?” she asked, opening her eyes and turning to me.

heat crept up my neck after getting caught staring at her. twice.

“yeah,” I lied.

every smile she sent my way, and every laugh i’d heard from her. every low moment in our volleyball careers we went through together. every win we celebrated with each others’ teams.

she was my dream come true.

what else could I wish for, if all i’d ever wanted was right in front of my eyes?

#skye's cafe ~ ⋆.˚#⭑𓂃 skye’s haikyuuverse !#tsukishima kei #tsukki #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #fem!reader #f!reader #tsukishima x you #tsukki x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu #anime oneshots #astronomy #stargazing

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selfloverrrrrr · 6 months ago

Note

Stalker gojo pls 🙏🏼

Stalker ~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, stalking, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

I work in a cafe. I live alone in my apartment. My apartment was in an empty area. That's because that's the only appartment I got in my range. I don't have too much money to afford a good apartment .

Gojo Satoru was famous person in Tokyo. Everyone knows him. But nobody knows what he does. Is a good person or a bad person? Nobody knows. But everyone knows that he's a dengerous person. I also know his name. But never seen him. So how can I know he's stalking me...?

All of this started from the cafe. I was working. Suddenly the bell rang. I looked at the door. A tall handsome man entered. His eyes were blue, white hair. He was wearing a sunglass. His outfit was black. He came in and took a sit.

I went to his table and bow down."what would you like to have sir..?" I asked. "Nothing much... just a latte please " he replied with a charming smile. "Ok sir " I said and took his order. "And what's your name?" I asked. "Hmm?" He raised his eyebrows. "Your name....to write on the cup" I said. "Ohh... yeah.... it's Gojo Satoru " he replied. A beat skipped my heart as head his name. "Ok" I said and quickly went out of there.

I went in the maid counter. My hands were shaking. Did I just met and talked with Tokyo's most famous man?! Fuck I've heard that guy is scary... I shouldn't get too close to him. I thought. Then I bring him his order. "Here's your order sir" I said. "Oh... thanks" he replied with a smile.

That was the first time I saw him. Since then he was almost a regular coustomer. He came in the cafe almost two or three times in a week. He knew my name now. But I don't even try to get too close. I just do my work. Cause I don't want to get in any kind of trouble.

After few days... It was a normal day. Gojo came in cafe again. And he never ordered anything else... just latte. That was he's regular. So I don't even have to ask him his order. I bring him his order then went back to the counter. After finishing his latte he he went to pay the bill. "Here's the money" he said and handed me. " Thank you sir... please do come again" I said. "Umm...y/n... can I talk to you please?" He asked. "Sure" I replied. "I think you're really cute... can I have your number?" He asked with a smile. My heart skipped a beat. " I-i.... actually sir... I'm not interested... I'm s-sorry " I replied with shaking voice. His smile faded away. "Do you have any boyfriend?" He asked in serious tone. "N-No... it's not about having boy-" I was saying "do you like someone?" He cut me off with again his serious tone. "N-No " I replied. Suddenly his smile came back on his face. "It's okey...see you soon.... bye " he said. 'fuck I almost thought that he's gonna kill me' I thought. "B-bye sir"I replied.

Gojo's POV

I was walking on the road. I saw a cafe. I've never went to the cafe. I don't know what came in my mind I went in the cafe. I went to a empty table. A maid came to me. When I looked at her....GODDDDD!!!! IS SHE A FUCKING ANGEL?! She asked my name. She looked scared when she heard my name. I smirked at myself. Is she scared of me like those other peoples...? Well you don't have to be scared darling. I like you. I have fallen in love with you.... and when I tell myself something as mine... I make that mine...In. Any. Cost.

I have a great obsession with her. But never let anyone know that. Not anyone. I always stalk her everywhere.

I went to my room. I grabbed the door knob and opened it. I opened the door and went inside. I smirked at the view infront of me. That room's wall was full with y/n's pictures. Her pictures that I took every time I stalked her. I love her and I want her. I looked at the table in that room. I went to the laptop and opened it. I started playing all the footage of those cameras I set all over y/n's house. She's in her bathroom. I've seen her body so many times before. But God! I never get tired. "soon gonna feel that body, darling" I whispered.

A few days later. I went to the cafe again. Today I asked her for her number. But she rejected?! I asked her if she had a boyfriend or if likes someone. I know she doesn't but still I asked. She said no. I smiled. 'so she wants the hard way,huh?.... Fine!' I told myself and leave the cafe.

Y/n's POV

I just closed the cafe. It was dark at night and there was no one around to be seen. I was walking quietly when suddenly someone spoke. "I think its not good for a beautiful girl like you walk all alone at this hour. would you like me to take you home?" The voice said. When I looked beside me. It was Gojo.

He Smiled creepily at me as I notice a shadow of a knife on his hip. "Im a very gentleman person... you know and you don't need to be scared of me. Im just trying to help you get home." He said. My heart was pounding. I know he's a dengerous man... and I really don't want any trouble. "T-T-Thank you.....but I don't n-need your help" I said as I tried to walk first.

He starts to approach me. "So you rather choose walking alone than come with me? Dont you think you will be a easy target for someone to attack?" He said. I looked at the knife in his pocket. "Oh the knife..? Are you scared of that???" He said as he pulled out the knife from his pocket and threw it on the road. " I don't need any knife to have you " he said. And I looked at him confusedly. He suddenly put a cloth on my mouth and dragged me in his car.

When my eyes open again I was in my bedroom. But there wasn't any clothes on me. I started panicking. I looked beside me then I saw Gojo infront of me. He was taking off his clothes. I was about to get off the bed when Gojo grabbed my hand and pulled me harshly towards him. My back was on the bed and he climbed on top of me. " Where do you think you are going....huh??? " He said with a smirk. his hand slowly reaching up from my inner thigh. " Why don't you just relax darling..." he said and his hand reached my core. He pushed his middle and ring finger inside and started thursting in and out. "G-gojo stop" I moaned loudly. "Oh... You liked that?" He smirked at me.

He started thursting his finger in and out harshly. Looking at me and smiling like a psycho which make me froze in fear. "You like getting fucked by me right???? That's why you are squeezing my fingers like that!" He whispered in my ear. "S-stop....p-please.." I begged. He looked at me again. He paused his fingers. "Why did you rejected me huh? Do you know how much I love you? I stalked you everywhere you go.... I've cameras all over your house...I loveed you these much and you rejected me???...If I got you pragnent then you can't resist me right???!!!!" He said in a low voice.

"N-no.... n-no.... I don't want that... please" I begged him. He didn't even listen to me. I tried to push his chest but nothing. Gojo started licking on my nipple. He was being a tease. I moaned. He continued his teasing licking and sucking on my nipple. With his one hand he grabbed my other boob and squeezed it roughly. I scremed so loudly.

I tried to get off from the bed but he grabbed my leg and pulled me again in that place. He grabbed his dick stroked it two or three times then line it with my entrence. I began to panic. "Gojo Gojo .... please no .... G-gojo please no... Don't do this again please!!!" I begged him and tears started falling from my eyes but he didn't listen. "Call me Satoru.... You should call me by the first name, baby" he said kissing my cheeks.

Gojo pushed his whole length in one slide and I scremed with pain. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was screming loudly. His huge dick was giving me too much pain. He started giving me hickeys on my neck and chest. His thursting getting faster and harder. "This .... This is mine.... I wouldn't.... I wouldn't let anyone take it from me!!!!" He said between moans. My whole body was shaking. He was moaning too. The way his dick was touching my g-spot make my back arch. It didn't take much time and I came. As I came that smirk again played on his lips.

He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside... please" I begged him. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out and whispered in my ear with a smirk "I'm sure.... you'll be carrying my child". He whispered and fall beside me taking deep breaths.

" You are mine and just fucking mine. Don't ever dare to think of anyone else for a moment. Or else you know damn well what I'm gonna do." He whispered in my ear.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

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carav4l · 1 year ago

Text

dim light

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Summary: After the first Quidditch match of the year, Y/N founds herself in the wrong side of the bar at the club she works at. And she’s not specially happy about it. However, Theo Nott is even more pissed, and he has all the rights to be.

Warnings: violence (not developed, but a fight does take place), swearing.

Before you read: this piece is set in a CollegeAU! English is not my first language, so please take that into consideration and be nice. Also, the whole piece is written in third POV because it’s the one I’m more comfortable with. Reader’s house isn’t specified, but definitely isn’t Slytherin or Gryffindor for the plot’s sake.

Y/N had to cover for one of her colleagues that night, Aubrey, who was feeling unwell after accidentally tasting some unfinished potion they had been working on that morning’s class. So, much to her regret, Y/N had to experience the post-season party from behind the bar at the Witch’s Hour Nightclub. Y/N wasn't the biggest fan of Quidditch by any means, but she did love everything that came with it at the castle: the colorful stands, skipping classes to watch the other’s houses games, the tension during the match, and above all, the celebrations that followed.

"Can I have two strawberry daiquiris, please?"

Ginny Weasley's words were met with a nod from Y/N, who smiled hoping to conceal her frustration. As she prepared the drinks, she glimpsed her group of friends amidst the dance floor frenzy. Just about ten minutes ago, they had all been keeping her company, sympathizing with her bad luck until Y/N urged them to enjoy the night on her behalf, and they had moved towards the dance floor to never come back. With all honesty, Y/N didn’t blame them for doing so.

Once the daiquiris were ready, Y/N placed them in front of the redhead without a word, her forced smile still in place. After paying for her order, the Gryffindor left the bar to join Luna Lovegood on the other side of the room.

Y/N barely had time to stash the money in the cash register before another group of girls shouted their order at her, noticeably less politely than Ginny. Y/N found herself close, very close, to spitting on the three Sex on the Beach cocktails in front of her. She couldn't stand how people could seem to lose their manners with the slightest bit of alcohol in their system. It didn't take her long to realize that, when it came to those girls, the unjustified attitude was because it had been Y/N who had taken their order, not the curly-haired guy going back and forth behind her.

Theodore Nott seemed considerably more annoyed about working that night than Y/N. And rightfully so, given his position as chaser on the Slytherin team, which had also happened to lose the game that day. Well, if Y/N was in a bad mood, Theo seemed ready to hex anyone who entered his line of sight at any moment.

Y/N took the wad of bills the group left, or rather slammed on the counter, and turned to head back to the register. This time however, she ended up colliding with something herself, most specifically her coworker's chest. The boy’s hands shot to her waist to prevent her from falling, and Y/N felt the exposed skin between her black crop top and low-rise sequin miniskirt burn. She unconsciously grabbed onto Theo's forearm, her chest constricted by the sudden scare.

"Hey angel, seems like you really tripped over me there," he said with a grin once Y/N steadied herself, not even making an attempt to let her go. In fact, she felt like he was tracing circles on her hip with his thumb. Y/N became acutely aware of the places where Theo's skin touched hers. "You good?"

She lifted her gaze to his watercolor eyes and cursed herself for the effect they, and the boy himself, seemed to have on her. It was utterly stupid, as everyone knew that Theodore Nott wasn't available and didn't seem like he would ever be. The boy seemed way above any one-night stand or anything as trivial as college relationships. Y/N believed she could count on one hand all the girls she knew he had been involved with. In some way, she respected him for that.

"Yeah, sorry," she apologized with flushed cheeks, silently grateful for the dim lighting of the venue. "It's just that tonight's been a mess and I'm a bit distracted."

Her words got lost in the music resonating through the speakers. Theo put a finger to his ear to signal that he hadn't heard anything, then buried his hand in Y/N's hair and gently brought their faces closer. Y/N repeated her response, earning a nod and a guttural sound of agreement.

"Tell me about it," Theo sighed then, pulling his face back just enough for their eyes to lock. They were so close that their noses almost brushed.

"I still don't quite get why you're working tonight, to be honest. I thought there was an unwritten rule that said Quidditch players didn't have to work on match days."

"Well, let's just say dear boss couldn’t seem to care less about that rule," the guy said, giving a sidelong glance at Philippa Harvey, a rather ill-tempered Ravenclaw who happened to be the club's manager. She was on the good side of the bar, dancing suggestively with a guy Y/N couldn't quite place. "Let's say she made me an indecent proposal, and I turned her down. And voilà, here I am."

A pang of something close to jealousy reluctantly settled in Y/N's stomach. It's not like she had any right to feel that way, anyway. She opened her mouth to express how sorry she felt for him, both for Slytherin's defeat and the fact that Philippa had finished screwing the night for him, but the sound of someone banging on the counter forcefully stole her opportunity.

"Hey, you two! Less groping and more pouring drinks."

It was a Gryffindor from the Quidditch team, tall and big, with a rather ordinary face. Y/N assumed that's why she couldn't remember his name. In any case, he seemed pretty drunk to her.

After trailing her cheek with his thumb one last time, Theo let go of her and with the distasteful expression he had worn all night back in place, told Y/N that he would handle it. She sighed and resumed the task of putting away the money in the cash register. Once done, she walked over to where Theo was serving the Gryffindor big guy to attend another one who had just arrived at the bar.

As she was about to start making a gin and tonic for him, a shot glass was placed right in front of her. Y/N raised an eyebrow at Theo, and he just shrugged in response. "It's going to be a long night," he seemed to convey with the gesture. "We might as well make it as enjoyable as possible." She agreed, so she took the shot and brought it to her lips without hesitation. Theo did the same with his own shot, never taking his eyes off her, and Y/N wasn't sure if the rush of heat that swept through her body was due to the alcohol or his gaze.

"Have another one on me, Nott," the Gryffindor guy interrupted them again, placing another pair of bills on top of those already on the counter. "And another for your gorgeous coworker. It sucks that you have to be the one serving drinks after how we beat the shit out of you guys this afternoon, don't you think?"

Theo clenched his fist around the glass, his knuckles turning white. Lips pressed into a stern line, he continued preparing the jerk's drink without looking up from his task. Y/N continued hers, not taking her eyes off the scene unfolding by her side.

"I also think it sucks that such a pretty girl like you has to be on that side of the bar," the Gryffindor guy persisted, unabated. Y/N looked at him out of the corner of her eye, still working, grabbing a bottle of gin from under the bar and pouring it into the glass in front of her. "When you get a break, you could look me up. We Gryffindors know how to show a girl a good time."

Disgusted, Y/N opened her mouth to tell him that she'd rather get eaten by a basilisk than to let him lay a finger on her, but someone beat her to it.

"Don't you even think about talking to her," snapped Theo, slamming the drink down in front of the Gryffindor with such force that Y/N thought the glass might shatter. "In fact, don't ever look at her again."

Y/N was taken aback by such words. She glanced at Theo with a racing heart, but he didn't return the look because his gaze was fixed on the idiot. The latter laughed brazenly.

"And what are you gonna do about it?"

Y/N saw a glint of anger in Theo's watercolor eyes, so she hurried to slip under the boy's arm resting on the counter and interpose herself between him and the Gryffindor. For a moment, Theo ignored her and continued to glare at the rival idiot. With a slightly trembling hand, Y/N grabbed his face by the jaw and forced their gazes to meet. If he had taken her that intimately before, he shouldn't mind her doing the same, right?

"Theo," she called him. He however, not willing to give in attempted to turn his face again. "Theo, just leave it. It's not worth it."

Y/N felt Theo's grip on his jaw tighten even more, but he nodded imperceptibly anyway.

"Fine."

"Yeah, Nott, listen to your little whore."

In the blink of an eye, Theo had jumped over the counter and landed a solid left hook on the round-faced Gryffindor. Y/N gasped in surprise at the sight. The Slytherin boy wasn't particularly known for getting into fights, not even when they happened during a match and the rest of his team and some of his friends were involved. That was more typical of Mattheo Riddle, or Lorenzo Berkshire. By Merlin, even Malfoy could be more prone to fights than Theo.

But there he was, straddling a guy who was a head taller and twice his size, punching him repeatedly in the face. Y/N figured the only reason Theo barely had gotten a scratch on his cheek was that, as she had suspected earlier, the Gryffindor was quite drunk. For a moment, Y/N just stood there, doing nothing but watching the spectacle unfold before her eyes, as if in a trance that prevented her from looking away. It didn't last too long luckily, and once she managed to move, she went straight to the dance floor, heading for the area where she thought she had spotted Theo's group of friends over an hour ago.

If it hadn't been for Draco Malfoy's bleached blond hair, Y/N didn't think she would have found them in the mass of dancing bodies. Pushing any insecurities the group might make her feel deep down, Y/N grabbed the wrist of the person who was closest to her and shook them hard enough to get their attention. Mattheo Riddle's dark eyes met hers shortly after, giving her an unfriendly once-over from head to toe. The guy didn't even bother to speak, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Hmm... I'm Y/N Y/L/N," she introduced herself awkwardly, trying not to dwell on it for too long. "I work here with Theo. This is actually about him. He's fighting with a Gryffindor idiot, and I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it, but the guy is like twice his size, and I can't separate them."

Surprise transformed Mattheo's face, which only confirmed the belief that Theo and fighting didn't usually appear in the same sentence. He turned to his friends to convey the message, and they all hurriedly followed Y/N to the bar where Theo was still straddling the Gryffindor, as if Y/N had never left. In less than a second, Mattheo and Blaise had each of Theo's arms and were leading him out of the club, followed by Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy.

Once again, Y/N stood still, not quite sure how to proceed. One thing was clear though: she definitely didn't want to be near the idiot once he woke up, or when his friends showed up and looked for someone to blame. Y/N approached the bar again to inform her only other coworker, a girl from her house with whom she maintained a friendly relationship of greetings and pleasant smiles in the corridors, that she was going to make sure Theo was okay. The girl nodded, and without further ado, Y/N headed for the back exit of the Witch's Hour, reserved only for staff and, on this occasion, Theo's friends.

Outside in the dimly lit alley, she found the curly-haired boy sitting on an old wooden crate, with Pansy Parkinson crouched in front of him at a distance that, for some reason she couldn’t wrap around her finger, seemed too short to Y/N. Pansy seemed to be giving him a quiet scolding even though there was no one else there but the two of them and their other four friends, standing prudently apart. Theo had his gaze fixed on the ground, and although Y/N couldn't see his eyes because of his bangs, she noticed that his jaw was clenched once again.

Y/N approached cautiously the rest of the group. The smell of tobacco from Mattheo and Lorenzo's cigarettes wafted into her nose, causing her to wrinkle her nose in distaste. Blaise was the first to notice her presence.

"You didn't need to come out," he spoke in a calm tone, giving her a friendly smile. Y/N shrugged and returned the smile timidly.

"Blaise’s right," Lorenzo chimed in between drags of his cigarette. The contrast between his boyish face and the action itself shocked Y/N. "Pansy knows how to handle him."

Y/N made an affirmative sound before giving a proper response. Why had she come out, anyway? The answer briefly crossed her mind, but she couldn't even process it correctly, let alone speak it out loud. She decided to go for the most obvious excuse.

"I just wanted to make sure he's okay. After all, this happened because..."

"I don’t fucking care, Theodore!" Pansy's shout cut her off mid-sentence. The five turned their heads toward them. Pansy had stood up and was pointing an accusing finger at Theo. "You're supposed to be the smart one in the group. You shouldn't stoop to this crap."

"Ouch," Mattheo whimpered, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Don't play the victim, Riddle," Draco said, leaning against the alley wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "She hasn't said anything that isn't true."

"It's still pretty uncalled for on her part."

The conversation died there, unlike the ongoing one between Pansy and Theo. Y/N decided to wait until Theo's friends went back inside the club to talk to him alone about what had happened. She didn't feel up to doing it with all those strangers watching her from the other side of the alley, and there was no need to create such a scene.

The night was strangely cool for the time of year they were in, and considering how lightly she was dressed, Y/N began to shiver slightly. Thanks to Merlin, only a couple more minutes passed before Pansy concluded her scolding and headed back to the club. Y/N couldn't quite grasp the look she shot her as she walked by. It wasn't a look of complete disdain, at least not entirely, but it lacked the warm smile Blaise had given her earlier.

"Ignore her," Blaise reassured, that same smile still on his face. Shifting his attention back to Y/N, he noticed her shivering and promptly took off his green and black Quidditch team bomber jacket to offer it to her. "Here, take it. Give it back to Theo, and he'll return it to me."

Y/N barely had any time to refuse, but was grateful that Blaise didn't give her the chance to as she truly could use some warmth. She slid her arms into the sleeves of the jacket, which was considerably larger than her, and involuntarily breathed in its scent: expensive cologne with hints of mint and chocolate. Y/N couldn't help but find it somewhat addictive.

Once alone in the alley, Y/N walked over to where Theo was still seated, head down and hands tangled in his hair.

"Hey," she managed to say.

After a significantly long sigh, Theo raised his gaze to meet hers. With a tired smile, he greeted her in a hushed voice.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhhm," Theo barely made a sound in response, unsure of what else to say.

There was an air of something new between them, and neither was quite sure how to proceed. Y/N raised her hand with the intention of cupping his face to see for herself if what the boy had said was true, but her hand stopped midway. She attempted to disguise the motion by placing her hand on her chest.

"Thanks for standing up for me," Y/N finally said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"Anytime," Theo murmured, his voice slightly huskier than usual. In a sudden surge of courage he took Y/N's hand in his and tugged it gently, bringing her closer to him. He played with her fingers as he spoke again. "I wish you hadn't had to see that, though."

"Let's just say you could have settled for threatening him or something," she excused him, downplaying it with a giggle that made the boy smile. "But I'm still grateful you did it."

Silence once again settled between them, but this time it felt more comforting in a way. For a few moments, they simply locked eyes, trying to find in each other's eyes all that they were feeling themselves. Y/N was genuinely surprised to find herself in this situation with none other than Theodore Nott. There had always been a sort of mutual understanding between them, a silent complicity they didn't share with any of their clubmates. But Y/N had always assumed it was a simple friendship, that Theo considered her a part of the short list of people he tolerated, and that was it.

However, under the dim light of the moon that night, it felt like much more to her.

"I think we should go back inside," Y/N said in a hushed voice, fearing that if she raised her tone too much, the magical moment would come to an end.

"We should, yeah," Theo agreed, but despite his words, made no attempt to go back inside. If anything, he pulled Y/N's hand a bit more until she was practically between his legs.

With his free hand, Theo cautiously cradled her face, as if unsure if she would pull away. On the contrary, Y/N tilted her head letting it rest in his hand, unable to believe that all these displays of affection were coming from him.

"Can I ask you something?" Theo's voice caught her slightly off guard, but she nodded all the same.

"Sure."

"Never wear Zabini's jacket again," his words caught her with a bit of surprise, and her cheeks turned an even rosier shade.

"Why? Are you going to lend me yours or something?" she joked, pushing a couple of strands of hair from Theo's face, using the excuse to touch him again.

Theo's gaze darkened a bit, and for a moment, Y/N cursed herself for choosing those words. Maybe they weren't at that point yet, right? Perhaps they hadn't reached the teasing phase, and her comment might had made Theo close up. It wouldn't surprise her coming from him.

Y/N didn't dare breathe again until Theo spoke, eyes filled with certainty.

"Consider it done."

Her heart raced, and seeing the smile that transformed her face into one of unexpected joy, his did too.

#theo nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys #theo nott imagine #theodore nott #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #harry potter #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #harry potter imagine

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ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 4 days ago

Note

With the not as he seems au how would the gideon plotline work in regards to Bill's involvement? Also I'm loving your au it's so interesting!

I considered a few options for this, but settled on one in particular. I haven’t worked out everything yet, so this will just be the stuff I have worked out. Being as Gideon’s takeover of the shack and all is how Stan got Journal 2 in canon, and was a major catalyst for the portal, I wanted the Gideon plot to retain that major catalyst factor.

I don’t have too many details yet, but the general gist is that Bill, by proxy, also has a rivalry with Gideon. Although, the main rivalry is still with Stan, and Gideon views ‘Stanford’ as more of the Pines family’s annoying, attack dog — the threat he has to eliminate before he can commit to any scheme.

The reason for this is Bill is a far more active tormentor of Gideon. Gideon bit first and so he bites back. That type of dynamic.

Most stuff at the beginning is the same besides that, although I do have some extra plot lines and also interactions I probably wanna consider.

But Dreamscaperers is where stuff becomes strange. Again, I don’t have all the details right now, but I do have the main catalyst for the plot, which is that Gideon’s summon of Bill actually works. For the first time in thirty years, Bill is in his own body (in a sense), but from Stan and Dipper’s POV, they just watched Ford’s body pass out suddenly without cause.

The other important beats here:

- Bill does not take the deal with Gideon. He claims he already has a deal with Stan that he can’t break, and while that technically isn’t a lie, there’s an array of reasons as to why he doesn’t take it.

- Bill does not stay freed, and once his summoning is over, he wakes up back in Ford’s body.

- Gideon Rises does still happen, Gideon just resorts to TNT earlier.

- Mabel and Dipper start investigating into their Grunkle Ford’s relationship with Bill after Mabel and Soos, like in canon, witnessed the summoning. Between the worrying entries in the journal and ‘Ford’s tendency to don triangular jewellery and the colour yellow, they suspect something is amiss. He suspiciously keeps dodging the questions too. But the Mystery Twins are on the case! Cue Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained: Grunkle Ford’s Tattoos.

- Stan ends up summoning Bill during Scaryoke, which is why he’s down in the basement initially before coming up to protect the kids. And, like with Gideon, it actually works. It’s only temporary, and Ford’s body always passes out instead of Ford returning to consciousness, but it’s absolutely a step. It’s also the first time Stan sees Bill and hears his actual voice, and he’s laughing for ten minutes straight.

That’s all the rough stuff I have right now! I’m probably gonna work on the finer details some more over time, especially Gideon’s plot as a whole and if Gideon Rises would change much.

And thank you!! I’m glad the AU is enjoyed!

I also do have these very quick doodles I did while brainstorming.

#asks #gravity falls #gravity falls au #not who he seems au #bill cipher #gideon gleeful

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maximumkillshot · 10 months ago

Text

I Can't Lose You-Part 12

Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, mentions of doctors appointments, that's it!

Pairing: BangChan x Reader

Characters: All the boys except Chan, although Chan is mentioned, Reader

A/N: The reader needs a break!!! So here we are. This one is fluffy, it feels good to me. I hope you guys like it! Also, I am pretty sure I had two seizures in the last two days (At least). Thank you to everyone for being so patient. I will try to resume my Friday schedule. Thank you so much for your understanding and well wishes!!

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

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Bin POV:

“Everyone ready to go?” I asked. Early in the morning the psychiatrist came in to talk to Y/N. They asked me to come in for a few seconds with Han. They let us know that they really didn’t want her anywhere near the house and to stay with at least Han and I, but it was preferable for most if not all of us to be there for at least the first week. The trauma tied to the 3 Racha house is just too much at this point, the doctors were also worried about Chan making the recovery even worse than it already is. Y/N agreed wholeheartedly and with that she was given follow up appointments. Finally the latest blood tests came just before lunch and she was given a clean bill of health and an outpatient appointment for her OBGYN. Felix, Minho, I.N., and Hyunjin all went to the DanceRacha house to start prepping for us to head there. Felix texted me that he had a few surprises for her which made me smile, she needs a good surprise right about now.

I’m still worried about Y/N. The DanceRacha dorms are a good option, but I know that for me, I still have memories tied to Chris there. I’m wondering if that is exactly what she is thinking. I can’t help but worry about it. “Remember the deal with the doctors is for you to be away from that house and with your support system. Are you sure you don’t want a place of your own? I want you to be comfortable as you heal.”

“I don’t have the money for that,” Y/N smiled at me. It was a reassuring one, as if she could read my mind. She and I always had this connection. Whenever I was feeling down she would pop in to see how I was doing.

I remember one time, it was maybe 3am and I was working on lyrics. They were risky, going double the speed of the song's beat, the technique is called ‘double time’ in rapping. Fast spitting rappers do it all the time, think Eminem and Busta Rhymes. It was my first time attempting it and I contemplated each and every syllable like a landmine. Writing it wasn't the issue, it was being able to deliver it while dancing. Those syllables take up a lot of air, not to mention the brutality that comes with dancing and singing at the same time. Our steps aren't insanely difficult, but they definitely take up oxygen like no one's business. So I'd get up, do push ups, jumping jacks, burpees, anything to get my heart rate up to about what it would be when performing, then I'd try to deliver the lines. Doing this is always painful, your body is screaming at you to stop talking, hunch over, and gasp for air. Obviously, we can't do that, so we try our hardest to build endurance. Some are like Chan, who sing while doing cardio (which is insane, by the way, I felt like I was dying when I tried it), some are like LeeKnow, packing on layer after layer of heavy clothing before and during dance practice, forcing the body to exert itself so much that when all of those layers are off, each movement and breath is a breeze (also insanity to do. It feels like working out in a sauna with a weighted, heated blanket on you). Me? I brute forced it.

Anyway, Y/N noticed that I was really getting obsessed with these lyrics and doing them so that I was as close to the line of unhuman speed crossed with physical activity as possible. I'm the fastest rapper in the 4th generation and I wanted to show why I was. Y/N came into my room and said,“Binnie, you need to trust yourself. You know what's best, you have the best instincts I've ever seen. Remember, if you're about to dive in a pool, don't think about the height of the diving board, clear your mind, and jump in. Don't think, just do.”

Even now, through all of this, you would think that a bond like that would be weakened, seeing her like that would make some pull away. It just brought me closer. I am in awe of her. The sheer will to live. The tenacity. The beauty in her broken parts know no bounds. It reminds me of ruins from ancient civilizations. Seeing the beauty in what was, and marveling at what is left. Only the strongest parts are left, the essence of that civilization. She is beyond anyone I've ever seen. Her capacity to love is beyond comprehension.

That's why I am so happy to know her. To really know her. To be the person she reaches for, to ground herself. She trusts me to be there. And I will be. Simply because it’s an honor to love her. Money isn't an object for her.

“Money isn’t a problem, would you like to be in a place of your own?” I asked again. I would spend my whole paycheck on her if I had the chance. She deserves to be spoiled.

“I still want to be at the other dorm, it’s familiar. For some reason I feel safe there. Is that okay?” She asked, looking at Seungmin. Little did she know that we had been talking about this for a bit before she woke up. We knew that pushing this topic on her would be too much, but at the same time, from what Seungmin told me, the doctors were never going to release her to the same house that Chris is in.

Seungmin chuckled, “Birdie, it’s not a problem, you have never not been welcome at my dorm, you know this,” he deadpanned. It is true…all of the boys over that house would get so excited as soon as they heard Y/N was coming over. They’d want to spend the entirety of the visit with her, a lot of the time they would start to pout if they felt she wasn't spending enough time with them. So when the idea came up their eyes lit up. Anywhere she goes, I'm not going anywhere.

“Okay then it’s settled.” I smiled at her, combing a stray strand out of her face. I’m happy that she’s finally getting out of here. She has been through so much in such a short amount of time. She needs to be left alone. I am scared for her. I want her to be safe, and worries keep on popping in my head. How do I protect her? What if saesangs get a whiff that something is wrong? What if the company tried to force her to stay with Chris? What if she takes him back? That part hurt. Seeing how badly she was hurt simply because he was being an asshole. Simply because he treated a diamond like sand on a decrepit shore. The thought made me shake with rage as I looked at the woman in front of me, she looked at me with furrowed brows, that brought me back to her.

Y/N looked into my eyes at that moment, like she was tapped into my brain. She gave my hand a squeeze as she said, “Binnie? What's wrong, talk to me…” she shyly played with my fingers. Her touch was feather light given the bruises that formed on my knuckles. I wanted to tell her the truth about them. My impulse to be honest, making the words bubble in my throat. Right behind the truth of what I'm feeling.

I wanted to tell her I love you, I wanted to tell you for so long. The minute I met you I fell for you, your soft voice, your booming laugh, your corny jokes. All of it. Not just the you before but the you now. I know life is going to be hard for you, I want to be there. I want to stand next to you and catch you whenever you need to collapse. I will give you everything I have. You deserve to know what real love is. I know Chris isn't good for you. You don't need this pain, this heartache, you don't deserve to be treated like an option. You are the one and only person I ever loved and will continue to love for the rest of my life. I want you to be happy, and if it's not with me that's okay. I just want you to know that he isn't the only option. I am just one person, I am sure thousands of men would line up and down city blocks just to see you, let alone have a chance with you. Instead I said “ just thinking.”

There is a time and a place for everything. Telling her right now could confuse her more, make her feel like I just want something from her. That couldn't be farther from the truth. The only thing I want is for her to be happy. The fact that she has been used like this and thrown to the side, expected to all of a sudden tolerate the people that did that to her.

I saw the opportunity to draw attention away and I took it as I said “Seungmin, you have everything?” “Yeah, we should be ready to go soon,” he said as he kept packing all of the random hoodies that were used as pillows when we stood overnight with her. It's been years since most of us slept in the same room as the others. Every few hours a nurse would come in to check on Y/N, sometimes startling her. Everytime that happened Seungmin and I would wake up. We aren't light sleepers in particular, but it was more reflexive than anything. The nurse would quietly remind her that she's safe and all of her boys are with her. No one is going to hurt or sneak up on her. It'd still take a little time for her to go back to bed. Seungmin and I would refuse to even close our eyes until her heart rate went back to resting and her body would be completely relaxed and limp.

Now that things are starting to simmer down I am wondering why Seungmin had this reaction. He's been very strong through it all and he is even going against his nature of just observing. I am wondering what it is that I don't know. I just want to be filled in. Seungmin isn't known for physical affection, instead opting for annoying people he loves until they inevitably get closer to the edge of insanity. It's an odd way to show love, but Seungmin has never been known for traditional methods.

So why is it that he’s calling her pet names and smiling at her that way? Did he always smile at her like that? It’s so comforting, almost endearing. More than anything she is sharing the look. Something definitely happened but I have no clue what.

“Angel, you have all the appointments and all of that?” I looked back to her and she smiled at me saying, “Yup, I just want out of here. It’s been crazy. I just want to cuddle with my boys and watch a movie.” I could feel the sincerity in her words.

It wasn’t too long after that when Han came with the wheelchair saying, “You’re chariot awaits.” I am still really worried about her. She still says the cramps are no joke. Her cravings are still everywhere too. When she asked the attending about it they explained that her body is still going to have those pregnancy cravings for at least a few more weeks. I could see the hint of sadness in her features when hearing that. The only thing I could imagine herself feeling is that it’s another reminder. A reminder of what could’ve been.

On our way to the house I could feel her excitement ramp up. I could hear her giggles as she listened to the radio. She waited and bounced at the redlights. I looked behind me and I saw everyone else in the car smiling lopsidedly as she giggled. Y/N wasn’t known for very big displays of excitement unless it was for something that she really really wanted or missed having.

I could see the color in her face, knowing that if Hannie and I didn’t do what we needed to do, this would not have been the case. Instead, I get to see her smile, feel her laugh a little more, and be thankful for every moment, I always was but now? It’s like I have a deeper love for her. She was already a part of me, but now she is like a vital organ, as odd as it sounds.

As I was in my own thoughts I heard a song play, it was one that I knew she loved. Immediately I felt her hand grab mine, which was on the shared arm rest. Usually if she wanted the armrest she would just nudge me until I relented and shared, but this was different. She laid her arm on top of mine, her hand interlocking with mine as she sang along to the song. I couldn’t help but think it belonged there. Touches are a part of her expression of comfortability. It’s how she communicates, which I happen to know all too well. This had more weight to it somehow. She felt like she knew that no matter what she’d be safe. Which was and still is true.

When we pulled around the corner we were met with balloons in her favorite color on the doorstep. Her eyes lit up as she said, “What’s this?” I just shrugged as I said, “I don’t know, Lix told me that he was up to something but I didn’t really know what.” As soon as we parked Y/N bounced as she waited for one of us to come around and help her.

I think that she was surprised at the fact that we had done anything, period. I know that she has a complex. She tends to feel like she isn’t worth the time. That was something that she told me in confidence one night. Every night she would cry herself to sleep for the better part of 2 and a half years. Hannie and I did not catch it until we started spending weekends with her.

One night I heard whimpering from their room, when I knocked I heard sniffles. I gently pushed the door open, I found her curled in a ball, crying looking at her phone. When I asked her what was wrong she just handed me the phone. On it was a text thread.

Y/N: hey are you coming home? It’s Friday and I wanted to watch a movie with you. Channie❤️: Not this again, Y/N. I’m working, I don’t have time for this. Y/N: You promised you’d take some days off every week, so you don’t burn out. You even said that those days are our days. Channie❤️: Y/N the more you talk to me the longer I have to be in the studio. So you are causing me to be away longer because you can’t be patient. Y/N: I haven’t seen you in weeks, Channie. You are always gone, I miss you and I feel alone… like you don’t care. Channie❤️: bingo! You are right. I don’t care. My phone is getting turned off. Maybe then you’ll get the message that I don’t have time for you. Get some sleep, trust me, don’t wait up.

I held her all night that night, I dried her tears as she clung onto me for dear life. Like I said before, her love language is touch, so to literally be starved of that for weeks from her husband made me feel enraged. More than anything, I wanted to make her comfortable.

I wrapped her in a fluffy blanket of which I called ‘the Y/N burrito’. Then I picked her up while she giggled and placed her on the couch. We watched whatever she wanted. Early into the morning she started craving her favorite snack so we went out in pajamas, got the snacks, and had a movie marathon. It’s one of my favorite memories with her. She started off that night crying and ended it safe in my arms, snacks surrounding her as credits rolled on the T.V.

I brushed her hair back as I stared at her sleeping so peacefully on the couch. The credits created a dim and timid light as I wiped the chocolate from the corners of her mouth. It was about 6am when Chris walked in. He looked annoyed and just walked past us as if we were ghosts.

I recounted this as I saw the balloons, thinking that whatever is inside, she is going to love it.

Han was first to grab her. When Seungmin unlocked the door with the overnight bags slung over his shoulder we could hear a little gasp and some talking. Han held her hand as we walked.

“This is so sweet you guys didn’t have to,” she stopped at the balloons, looking at them as if they were the most precious diamonds she has ever seen. Then when we walked in she started sniffling.

Sitting on the couches were 6 pillow sized plushies, and one giant plushie. Y/N loves plushies, their textures calm her. What got her to cry though, was what each of them represented. The one giant plushie was an angel. The other 6 were a lioness, a crown, a bird, a sunflower , Anya, and the National flower of Korea, the mugunghwa, the symbol of eternal beauty, that one has to be Minho’s.

I have no clue where he even found some of these. Especially the lioness, that one represented I.N.’s nickname for her. Whenever anyone tried to mess with us he always said, “if you think the wolf is bad wait until the lioness hears about this.”

She started crying, “they…. They’re all my nicknames. The ones you gave me.” She immediately went to the angel and grabbed it, hugging it tightly as she cried.

My heart broke and swelled at the same time. She should never have to feel like anyone is going to abandon her. It makes me so sad to know that she was so scared of losing us. All because of one foolish and egotistical man. He deserves nothing, especially not her love. Yet she loved him anyway. That is the type of person that she is.

Felix came up to her and said, “I figured if one of us had to go out and you missed us, now you’ll have a piece of us with you. You won’t be alone, and we’ll always come back to you. So when we leave, you can hold on to them really tight and know that soon we’ll be there.” I could see the tears about to leave his eyes.

If anyone was able to do something this sweet for Y/N, it would be Felix. The way that he cares for her, comforts her, it’s like they share one mind. He knows that she loves plushies. Ones that are so soft she can just sink into them. Chris never really liked too many things in his room. So he always discouraged her from decorating with plushies. He also felt that, although they were cute, they had no place in an adult’s bedroom. Especially not a leader’s bedroom. Most of her plushies found residence in my room.

I had no problem holding onto them for her and sometimes she would even decorate my room with them. Every movie night, before Hannie and I came home, she would grab the plushies and throw them on Han’s bed. She’d decorate with them, with Hannie’s favorite holding a bag of Hannie’s snacks. She’d also have her favorite, she named it Ollie, and Gyu on the bed, with popcorn in the middle.

That always made me smile. That wherever Ollie went, so did Gyu. Whenever I would sleep in the same bed with her, I would grab Ollie and Gyu. One night she asked if she could hold Gyu for a bit. Usually I don’t let anyone touch him, but she isn’t anyone. Without hesitation I handed her Gyu and she handed me Ollie. I remember hearing her sigh with comfort as she talked to Gyu about me. How lucky Gyu must be to fall asleep next to me every night. She thanked him for comforting me and for allowing me to sleep soundly. Even on every tour, she would pack Ollie and Gyu for me to sleep with. The first time she did it, she wrote a note with it. ‘I’m going to miss you, but so is Ollie. I may not be able to go with you but Ollie can! Sleep well, have a great tour, I’ll see you soon Binnie!-Angel.’

She looked up at Felix, released the angel, and hugged him as she whimpered a bunch of tiny little “thank you’s” into his chest. I think she realized that all of us know that she is scared. We may not say it but we do. We know and we all love her so much. We are here for her. Even if we may not be there in person, there is no place we would rather be than being with her.

Felix held her and pulled back after a few minutes. He wiped her tears and he said, “come on sit, take a load off. The brownie batter is almost done… unless you want to help?” He smirked at her.

She practically dragged Felix to the kitchen and Minho yelled, “Yah, I’m not done in here!” She giggled and asked what he was doing. I came into the kitchen to see Minho tying tenderloin together. She was watching curiously as he worked. He said, “it is your first day home and we should celebrate that. I’m making beef wellington, and don’t worry I left out the mushrooms, replaced it with onions and carrots for you.”

“Really? Thank you Minho! This is going to be the best dinner, thank you!!” She bounced and kissed him on the cheek. His ears turned red as he said, “okokok go over there with Lix’ you guys can have the oven first since this needs to chill,” he kissed her forehead right before she bolted to help Lix. I couldn’t help but giggle at her as she breathed life into the room.

I could see that she was really touched that he said, ‘your first day home’. Those words meant that now she is home. This is her space as well as theirs, that will never change. I could see her trying to hold back tears as she baked. Once things were baking Lix’ plugged in the switch and we had a blast playing games while we waited for dinner to come around. After everything was baked and made, we all sat down for a nice dinner, like we used to in the shared dorms.

Right before we all sat down Y/N smiled and said, “thank you. To all of you. This experience was hard. It was the hardest thing that I have ever been through to date. It’s because of all of you that I made it. All of you mean so much to me. The thing that really scared me after all of this was what would happen if I lost you guys? My boys. I cherish every single memory with each of you. I love you boys so damn much, you are all my family. Seeing what you did,” she looked at me and Hannie, “Being so strong. Crying with me, holding me through it all.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. Resisting the urge to nudge into it like I always do.

She looked at everyone else, “The fear that each of you must have felt. I know I wasn’t the only one mourning and coming to terms with things.” I saw her look directly at Seungmin for a split second and went back to scanning the table, “I want to thank all of you so much. This experience was horrific. Because of all of you, I made it out. I love you boys so much. Thank you for welcoming me home.” With that, she sat down and leaned into me, I could tell she was either too nervous or embarrassed.

As we were eating and laughing she looked around the table. I sat down right to her left and Hannie was on her other side. I could tell she was doing her best not to cry. I think it was the same for the boys. Two days ago that wasn’t the case. She was fighting for her life around this time. To think that we would all be here, together, a family. It made me want to cry. This is the family that she deserves. Everyone she loves, at home, on time, together. She was so happy and before dessert came out Hyunjin said, “Yongbok-ah phase 2.” Then Felix went running to his room. He came out with a giant comforter and plopped on the living room floor. He then ran to Minho’s room, grabbed his comforter and plopped it down as well. At that point I.N. said, “Movie time! Everyone on the floor!”

Immediately everyone moved to the living room and got a spot except for me. I was helping wash dishes with Minho. When I walked in I could see Minho tearing up as we heard her giggle. I patted his back as I said, “what can I do to help, hyung?” He just shook his head a bit and asked me to help him with the drying. By the time we were almost done with that I heard Y/N calling my name and asking me to sit. I told her that I had to change into my pajamas first and I could hear her ask Lix if she could change in his room quickly. He of course obliged.

Slowly but surely everyone started changing and pretty soon everyone was sitting on the comfy comforters. I didn’t really know where to sit and Y/N looked at me saying, “I know you aren’t thinking about sitting away from me.” I didn’t want to make it seem like she needed to be next to me all of the time, thinking that I would come off as clingy but it’s nice to know that she craves my touch as well.

I sat down right next to her and everyone’s faces had giant smiles. I looked at her and she smirked as she held onto my bicep curling into me. This is one of my favorite places to be. Just next to her as she clings onto me like a Koala.

She was giggling as Felix handed out the brownie sundaes and everyone got comfy. Y/N decided on a comedy for the first movie and out of nowhere she asked me, “You guys were never going to leave me, were you?”

I just smiled at her and said, “Not in a million years. We love you, we always will. Nothing and no one will get in the way of that.” She gave me an indication that she wanted to be closer so I lifted my arm up, that way she could scooch closer to me. I could feel the tears through my sleep shirt as I held her.

“Thank you for not leaving me.” She said as quietly as she could. The truth is, she is someone that I need, someone that we all need. She is a unique type of person. After about two movies most had abandoned the comforter pile. By the early morning it was just me and Y/N. We were laying down on her new plushies. She took her place on my chest. Much like that night from years ago, I wiped the chocolate from her face and watched her form as she slept, credits rolling on the T.V. I smiled as she slept. I kissed her forehead and she intertwined her leg with mine. A few minutes later we fell asleep, with the promise of better days ahead.

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greenandsorrow · 9 days ago

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IF THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED NEVER HURT YOU, MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO PROTECT YOU. 🎈

Pennywise bonding with a teen!reader/ platonic

-> I decided to write this more like a casual narration, for the storytelling vibes. Also, I might have tried to pull a "going back and forth in time like I'm S.King", so not everything will be crystal clear from the get-go. Hope you enjoy and feel free to interact!!!

-> I tried to keep the reader gender neutral, but the fem pov came more naturally to me, so I apologise if it takes away from the story for some of you.

-> Pennywise the Dancing Clown: A trans-dimensional entity that shapeshifts and feeds on the fear -and sometimes the flesh- of kids and animals. IT hibernates for 25 to 27 years, then wakes up for 12 to 16 months, manipulating reality and slipping past the notice of adults.

Listen to: Five Years by David Bowie

~ 1 ~

1979 Derry, Maine

A family of three moved to Derry, for the father's work. Maine has its fair share of factories and the average person here doesn't mind getting their hands dirty, if it means paying the bills.

You were twelve when your family settled in an amiable house in Witchham St.

You may be seventeen now and you may have embraced the Losers' Club almost like a parental figure... But that wasn't the case five years ago.

When you first moved to Derry, you were twelve.

It was that same year you attended the annual Derry Funfair -Pennywise's favorite time to wake up. How could it not be, with so many kids out after dark... The Derry Funfair. The perfect hunting ground for the entity. That fateful night, you saw him for the first time. You call IT a 'he' because in the form of a clown, IT feels like a 'he'.

The air at the funfair was thick with the smell of popcorn, sugar... and something faintly metallic. As you walked through the crowd, laughter rang out around you, along with the loud music coming from the speakers far above your head.

You spotted the Ferris Wheel turning slowly against the darkening sky, each of its blinking lights reflecting in the deepening puddles scattered along the path. The Carousel line was snaking on that very path. You always loved how the painted horses glistened under the soft glow of the carnival lights...

Fed up with a group of cocky twenty-somethings, you slipped away from the fair, eventually finding yourself by the bridge for a moment of peace. You liked the breeze and the faint smell of night-blooming flowers. You still do.

It was quiet, until you suddenly heard a distinct sort of giggling. You also spotted a single, shiny red balloon floating toward you, bobbing against the wind. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled. Chills ran down your arms. Instinct warned you that something was very wrong.

That night, in your rush to escape and flee back to the fair, you left your hairbow at the bridge.

Later, as you looked out the window of your father's car on the ride home, you looked back and saw him -an enormous figure in a dusty, faded clown suit, watching you, waving slowly at you. His face was ghostly pale, almost like porcelain, with eyes that gleamed a strange and unsettling shade of amber. Those eyes seemed knowing, as if they could peel back every thought and fear inside you. A painted smile stretched across his mouth, far too wide and framed by rows of teeth that looked far too many, like something out of a nightmare. Wisps of reddish-orange hair framed his face, stiff and wild. The ruffles around his neck were yellowed with age, their edges fraying.

The suit itself was old, streaked with grime. Large, oversized pom-poms lined the front in an even row. And yet, despite his faded, worn appearance, there was something disturbingly vibrant about him. It was as if he wasn't really standing but rather waiting -waiting for you to wave back at him.

Even from the safety of the car, a chill had crept through you, and somehow you knew that he was still watching long after the car had turned, his gaze following you all the way home.

That night, when you woke up thirsty from all the popcorn you'd had at the fair, you wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. There, neatly placed beside the sink, was your lost hairbow -the same one you'd bitterly cried over after realizing it was missing.

Two days later, you returned to the fair with your parents. You felt happy. You were carefree. You were stupid. You couldn't resist looking for the clown who had waved at you... You had a strange feeling that the balloon belonged to him... It was the shame shade as his painted lips. You also had another, even odder feeling that he had somehow been the one who returned your hair ribbon.

Eventually you found him. The clown waved again and this time, you waved back, even managing a smile. But when he extended an unnaturally long arm, gesturing you to come closer, you were smart enough to keep your distance. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his voice, soft and coaxing, whispered your name.

Strangely, your parents didn't seem to notice him, neither that day nor the first time you'd seen him...

It was July. You didn't see the clown again until early autumn, right around the time you started feeling nervous about your new school.

That summer, he haunted your dreams night after night. They'd start innocently enough, not like full blown nightmares -you'd find yourself back at the fair, wandering through empty stalls. The colors were brighter -somehow too bright- and the air too thick. Then, he would appear. A clown in the distance, his wide smile aimed straight at you. You'd try to move, to turn away, but somehow, your feet kept inching closer.

In those dreams, he told you his name -Pennywise-, his favorite color -red- and his favorite food -cotton candy-. You remember telling him that you knew he was lying, that he wasn't just any clown. After that, the dreams stopped.

1984 Derry, Maine

You think back to all that as you blankly stare at the pages of your math book, you think back to what belongs in the past, but your mind drifting off to five years ago is more than justified.

People in town are noticing things these days, though no one says it out loud. There are hushed conversations about kids going missing -George Denbrough included-, strange sightings near the sewers, and that eerie feeling you get walking through Derry alone.

The old-timers say things aren't right this time, that it feels different somehow. You overhear a few whispers that maybe this time, it's sticking around longer. And the worst part is that you know why. You know why even better than your younger friends do...

Since last autumn, you've gotten close to Bev Marsh. She sees you as the older sister she never had. Bill lives right across the street. You babysat him and his little brother, Georgie, over the summer. But since Georgie's death in the Fall, you and Bill have drifted apart. Stanley… well, he may or may not have a crush on you. You know him through Bill -he's a good kid. Eddie Kaspbrak, same way, also through Bill. Thank God he gets some fresh air with his friends -you've heard his mom isn't the easiest. Then there's Ben, your reading buddy from the library. Richie Tozier? You two got into a fight once, over which Led Zeppelin song is the best. And Hanlon, he nearly knocked you over with his bike the first time you met.

Another remarkable mention? Henry Bowers. He is a year younger than you. Sure, the guy's a bully, but oddly enough he and his friends never caused you any trouble. And I say 'oddly enough', in the same way Derry's misfortunes oddly enough never seem to touch you. The bad luck that hangs over this town, the accidents, the disappearances, even the craziness... it's as if you've been given an unspoken pass, a quiet immunity no one else seems to have. Even when trouble looms close, you remain untouched, like some silent pact with the shadows in this place.

However, it's not just the gossiping ladies at the grocery store, or the old wise granddads who enjoy sitting on their porches, that made your mind wander to the past with their words.

As of late, your dad started locking the doors at night without explanation and your mom seems anxious, checking the windows like she expects something -or someone- to be watching. They'd never talk about it, but you can tell they sense it too... The whole town feels off, like there's something lurking beneath the surface. Sometimes, you catch a flash of red in the distance or hear a faint giggle that seems to echo from nowhere. It happens often enough that it feels like more than coincidence.

You've started wondering if he's ever really gone at all.

Even your dreams are different now.

More vivid.

In them, you're back at that same funfair... but it feels hollow, like something out of a faded photo. Every creak of the Ferris Wheel, every rustle of the trees ...sounds wrong. Sometimes, you see him waiting by the bridge, his head tilted in that unnatural way. His smile is sharper and more dangerous, as if he's been waiting all this time, keeping a part of you trapped there. You always wake up shaking, heart pounding in your ears.

The worst part is that the closer you get to waking, the darker the dreams grow.

In last night's one, Pennywise had held his gloved hand out to you, as if inviting you closer. You had felt the weight of his gaze, pulling you in despite everything inside you screaming to run. You started to remember that he's taken kids before, that he leaves things behind as markers -ribbons, scraps, things no one else notices... And then had woken up gasping for air.

No matter how much you try to shake it off, the feeling lingers, leaving you wondering if he's still out there, watching you, just as he was five years ago.

For you, fear twisted into something almost exhilarating five years ago... thanks to all those fleeting moments of intimacy when he would whisper secrets, just for you. It was wrong and you know that, but there was a thrill in the danger he represented. You think about the stories the others tell, how they shudder at the thought of him -of IT- while your heart races at the memories of the laughter, of the games. It's a longing that gnaws at you, even as you wrestle with the dread of his return.

It was easier to just forget before, but now the thought of him returns like a shadow. As you flip the pages of your stupid math book, you wonder if he's standing outside your house right now, waiting for you to come back to him, just as you've secretly wished for him to do all these years. Because, it's true, there's a twisted part of you that misses him.

When the Losers share with you Bill's and Ben's theories about IT and how IT came to be, you can't help but recall how Penny would laugh, a sound that echoed like a melody in the chaos of your childhood, dancing on the edge of terror. His voice, with its playful cadence, would weave stories that made the mundane feel magical. You remember how you'd lean in, drawn by an irresistible urge, despite the way your heart raced and your instincts screamed to flee.

Even the memories of those long, shadowy nights away from the comfort of your bed, punctuated by the pulse of adrenaline, stir something within you -an inexplicable yearning for the connection you shared, however dark it was.

You close the book since there's no way you can concentrate on your homework now and instead, you settle on washing the dishes.

Despite everything, beneath that longing lies the heavy weight of guilt and sorrow. 'Penny' killed Georgie and that truth looms over every fond memory you have with him. This is the part you feel compelled to remind yourself: he's a killer, a predator.

To any onlooker, all they would see is a broken girl, haunted by a lost childhood and a shadowy figure that once made her feel alive and seen. You know better than anyone that the line between fear and fascination is a thin one, and that's a truth you'll have to grapple with...

...in the chapters to come.

masterpost☁️

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Tags; @satubby @sketchist-art

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echobx · 24 days ago

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Trick or treat! 👻

thanks for the ask 🥰🥰🥰

author's note: this is a fic I started but I will never finish, so it ends before anything happens that would actually be interesting. It's basically like foreplay that ends in a blank page. idk okay. I never finished it bc I didn't know how to continue, it's not like I can't tell you what was supposed to happen after, I very juch could, but I was never capable of writing it down and that's been like this for nearly a whole year cause I wrote this in late December last year. anyway, no more talking, here's the start of an unfinished fic.

summary/idea: y/n and JJ spend a day together on a boat in the open sea and use the time they have appropriately

word count: 1.8k

warnings: making out, suggestive language, JJ PoV, established relationship, fem!Kook!reader

This is 100% unedited and NOT finished!!!

ask game

“I know nothing about boats, I would need someone who knows what they are doing, the best one you got,” I heard her sweet voice trying to charm Guffy. “I'll pay extra if he's pretty,” she said and when I glanced up I could see him put a few bills into his pocket. “JJ!” he called out and I had to bite a grin away while she pretended to not know me at all. I walked over to them, cleaning off my hands and smiling politely to keep up the facade. “What do you need?” I asked. “One trip on the Ariadne, and be careful with our very charming client,” he said and eyed me intensely. “I won't disappoint, wouldn't dream of it,” I said and grinned before turning towards my girl. “M’lady,” I mused and held my hand out for her. She held onto me as I guided her towards the small yacht, before I went back to grab a cooler and Guffy pulled me away one last time. “I don't care what you do, but if she comes back happy, you'll get half of the winnings, do you hear me?” he whispered while staring into my eyes and I didn't really know how to feel about it. Maybe it would've been different if it had been anyone but y/n, but it still would've felt off that he even suggested it. “I'll see what I can do,” I said and grasped the cooler tighter before walking away to the boat.

I drove us far enough out to not get annoyed by anyone passing by, far enough to be able to do whatever we wanted without anyone seeing. “I heard you pay extra when they're pretty,” I teased her after dropping the anchor. y/n was lying on the wooden planks, bathing herself in the sunlight as if I wasn't there at all. “I like my boys pretty,” she replied before batting her eyes at me. “Sunbathing with a bikini on will leave lines,” I whispered while leaning down over her and she had pulled me in quicker than I could've said my own name. Her lips pressed against mine in a needy kiss and I forgot everything for a moment until she let go again and giggled. “This was the best idea I ever had, right after the one where I decided to not give up on making you fall for me.” “Pretty sure I fell for you way before I even knew I was capable of it,” I chuckled while walking into the small cabin.

She got up and followed me, the opened wrap dress flowing in the wind. “Oh, but you wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't made sure you would.” “Took longer than you wanted it to,” I mumbled as she hugged me from behind. “Yeah, well, better that than never, right?” She said quietly. “How much did you pay him? He offered me half when I bring you back ‘happy’,” I drew quotation marks in the air as I said it and she giggled. “Oh, you'd throw me overboard if you knew, that's also why he didn't give you a timeslot, we have as much time as we want, we could stay a whole day, maybe even two, and he'd still have some left,” she pressed her face in between my shoulders while talking. “So, you are paying for me to fuck you? Maybe I should be turned off by that. Tell me again why that doesn't turn me off?” I asked while turning around to be able to look at her. “One, you love me so much. Two, you'd still do anything for money, and getting to have this much fun and making more than ever is probably very fucking good, I would think, especially because you love me. Three, I paid for you to spend the day with me, I can't help it if all you want to do is make me cum over and over and over and ov-” I cut her off with a kiss, sloppy and breathtaking, my hand fisting her hair behind her head, while hers rested on my hips, pressing her hips against my hardening cock. “You know what, I think you should go and look through my bag, maybe you'll find something interesting,” she hushed, her lips ghosting mine before she pulled away and spun me around as if I didn't weigh anything.

I picked up her bag and walked back over to where she had sat down. She looked like a model, the way her legs were angled on the white cushions, my sunglasses on her nose and the painted red lips drawn to a smile. Putting the bag down beside me as I sat down opposite of her, I started looking through it and putting the most interesting things on the small table in between us; teak wood, easy to clean, just like the rest of the fancy boat, apart from the cushions maybe, but I so rarely had to clean those before. “And?” she asked, anticipation swinging in her voice as she pulled the glasses down. “I didn't think this bag could fit this much,” I mumbled and put an Uno game and a small toiletry bag out, placing both on the table. Next followed a small box, which was locked, and when I gave her a questioning look she just smiled a bit wider before nodding to signal me to keep going. “If this is what I think it is-” I muttered while pulling a black hardshell travel kit out of the bag. “Please don't be something else,” I whispered to myself while slowly pulling the zipper open and revealing the camera inside. “Shit, I love being right,” I hissed as I thought about all of the things I would do to her later. “I see you like what I have in mind,” she giggled.

“How did you think of this?” I wondered while picking up the camera and turning it on, the settings were put to photographs and I couldn't stop myself from taking a few of her as she spoke. “Well, you know how Pamela Anderson had that tape of her and her ex husband leaked back in the 80s or 90s or whenever that was? I mean, that was horrible, but I know that they filmed mostly their honeymoon, which was on a boat, and I thought that would be a funny idea. And the camera isn't a rental, and I made sure that the SD card has a failsafe, it can only be accessed with a password that only I have, for now, and if it's typed in wrong more than three times, boom, no more anything. It's pretty smart, Pope did that for me, took a bit longer than I had expected, but better late than never, right?” “How good is that password?” I asked and put the camera back up, in between her explanation I had to take it down to just admire her as she was, smart and sexy and more than I could've ever wished for. “It's extremely long, and hard,” she said and flashed her eyebrows at me. “I don't think taking ‘JJ’s pretty dick’ as a password is as safe as I want it to be,” I joked and she threw a small pillow at me, that I barely caught before it could fall into the sea. “These pillows are expensive, just so you know,” I said but she just rolled her eyes at me before putting the sunglasses back on. “Now I won't tell you,” she said while crossing her arms in front of her chest and pouting in a joking manner. “How big is that card?” I asked while taking another shot, zooming in on her legs. “I don't think we'll be able to fill it in one day, not even in two,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“What if I wanna print one of these?” I asked and took another shot just as she pulled the glasses down a little. “Why would you wanna print them?” she asked. “To hang one up at home? I don't know, why wouldn't I?” I shrugged slightly and she got up and sat down next to me, taking the camera in her hand and looking through all the pictures I had already taken of her. “Maybe, but only if I get to take some of you too,” she said and got up again, just to take a picture and look at it for a while. “I'm not that good at this, my phone is easier,” she sounded defeated. “Show me,” I whispered after getting up and placing myself behind her. The picture wasn't bad, just a bit unsteady and unfocused. I pressed the little “auto” button and told her to try it again, while leaning against the railing. “I think this is better, but I hate that I have to use the fucking dummy mode to take good pictures of you,” she pouted and dragged herself over to me. “You are so effortlessly good at this, and I'm shit.” “Nothing bad about that, you are way better at so many things than me too, I can barely keep up.” My words managed to conjure a small smile on her lips. “Keep talking,” she hushed. “All right, you're way better at baking than me, or just cooking at all, which I will work on, I promise,” I wanted to keep going but she had to laugh. “You burnt spaghetti,” she was basically guffawing. “I'm gonna learn,” I tried to defend myself a little but had to laugh too, her laughter was just too addictive. “I love you so much,” she mused after managing to control her laughter. “Love you so much too, princess,” I whispered and kissed her gently.

“Do you wanna play a game of Uno?” she whispered against my lips and I opened my eyes to look at her, already staring back at me. “I have made up new rules, better rules.” “Tell me about those rules,” I said while pulling her back towards the table, which was still filled with the things from her bag. “Oh, you'll see in the game, I only changed a single thing really,” y/n was as vague as she could be and I didn't know if I was actually that fond of the game without knowing what would happen. I cleaned the table and we started playing, but when I placed the +4 card she didn't groan out of annoyance like she usually did, but instead grinned and took off the flimsy fabric of the dress, which was really only draped over her shoulders now, and then she kept playing without taking four. “That's a rule you'll never use when we play with anyone else,” I said she grinned a bit wider. After that it didn't take long for me to lose my shirt, and for her everything else she had on and suddenly the game was forgotten.

#jj maybank #~ask game #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #~fanfiction

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youremyheaven · 9 months ago

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The Absorbent Nature of Venus: An Astrological Exploration

I was inspired to make this post when I saw pictures of Bella Hadid with her new boyfriend, Adan Banuelos.

For context, Adan is a professional cowboy and Bella Hadid used to be an equestrian (she trained for the Olympics back in the day). Bella's new pictures (after a long absence from social media) feature her in all her horse girl glory. But I couldn't help but notice how Bella has a tendency to morph into her boyfriend(s).

This is not to say that she adopts a persona that is entirely alien to her, but more so that she channels one aspect of her personality and lets it take centre stage. With Adan, she is the laid-back horse girl, channelling the side of her that grew up on a farm in Santa Barbara riding horses.

Prior to this, she was dating Marc Kalman who is an art director. Idk how many of you are familiar with those "pov : you're talking to an art director at a party" reels/shorts/tiktoks but Marc fits that bill to a tee. He's the edgy, weird alternative androgynous guy and in the 2 years that Bella was with him, she morphed into a caricature of him almost.

her y2k style had a huge impact on fashion trends/pop culture but it soon kind of became a parody, as it seems a bit over the top to be wearing 25 things that do not belong together.

There was also a drastic shift in Bella's public image; she was more earnest & open; this period also saw her at her fashion nerdiest as she openly spoke about her love of finding and collecting "vintage" designer pieces from the 90s and 2000s. He was the weird edgy art director, she was the weird edgy art kid.

The only other man she dated publicly before Marc was The Weeknd and if you look at her style/persona from this period, you can see a tendency to opt for darker, grungier aesthetics. She herself has called this her "sexbot" era.

Its crazy but almost every picture of the two of them together feature both of them wearing black😂😂

This brings me to what I hope to discuss today, which is the absorbent nature of Venus.

Bella Hadid is Purvaphalguni Moon & Rising and is a Venusian. Venus is the planet of beauty, harmony, love, creativity etc. Venus exalts in Pisces ("exaltation"= it functions at its best). Pisces being a watery sign and the final sign of the zodiac is very telling in this context. Pisces is the culmination of the zodiac and contains the qualities of every preceding sign (this is why they're so chaotic lol, they have too much going on) and in water, which is where life originated, everything is at home. Pisces thus has the unique ability to find beauty in everything; water signs are known for their empathy, intuition and psychic abilities, this is because water holds the qualities of everything within it. Scientists have purported about "water memory" and water's ability to remember is linked to its natives high sensitivity, more than literal memory, its a kind of cosmic memory or inner knowing that I refer to in this context. Pisces natives tend to report psychic abilities more than any other sign in my observation and to be psychic/clairvoyant/clairsentient/claircognizant/ clairaudient is essentially to have a higher degree of empathy/sensitivity than most people. Although in some cases it may apply to tropical Pisces natives, what I'm speaking of here primarily applies to Sidereal Pisces natives.

Its easy to see how water absorbs information and retains memory but we must ponder upon why Venus, the planet of love, beauty etc exalts in a water sign and why so, in Pisces specifically. Pisces' all consuming all absorbent nature is the essential or true nature of love, beauty & harmony, to absorb, hold and possess all that there is and all that there will be, without trying to restrict it or limit it (water has no shape or form, it takes the form of whatever its poured into, pointing to the adaptability of these natives to get along with anyone or belong anywhere). Understanding love as devotion means allowing yourself to be consumed by it, it borders on religious fervour because you're losing all sense of yourself and giving your all. Its to give until you yourself are lost in it, with no sense of boundary between you & God or you and your lover (Sufi poetry extols this).

Only someone who has the ability to have this kind of all encompassing, profound divine kind of love for others, for creation, for source has the ability to connect to the ether and make art. there is a reason why the most spiritual art often tends to be abstract, there is much that cannot be expressed logically or in a straightforward way. much can be said without using language or words, some things are understood in a far more abstract way, its understood by the senses, by the subconscious, not the rational, thinking mind.

Beauty then, is the ability to perceive beyond the surface, there is nothing shallow or superficial about it, it is to understand the sum or whole of something, its essence, its core and understand its value and why its separate from the rest. True beauty then is rare but there is immense beauty all around us. Both these things are true. This is the true nature of Venus which is also the planet of refinement, it sees value in things that are unpolished, raw and original wholly but also in what is practiced, deliberate and refined. Venus is a planet of immense contradictions as the themes associated with the planet itself are contradictory in nature. To know or experience love, beauty, creativity etc one must also be well acquainted with its opposite. There's no middle ground and there's nothing lukewarm, you have to go all in. To understand and appreciate beauty truly, one must face brutal ugliness, to know the nature of creativity or to access it, you must first experience the lack of it. Its out of nothingness that things manifest but this means nothingness must first be experienced.

Sorry to have gone off on a tangent (me with everything I post lol) but its important to understand the nature of Venus in this specific context because its not the other attributes that makes Venus so absorbent of others influence. Its such a creative energy for the same reason, it absorbs and is influenced by absolutely everything. However, it can be hard for Venusian natives to feel as though they have a strong sense of self.

Granted that the "self" is an illusory concept and we are all an amalgam of numerous influences (people, places, culture, literature etc), Venusian natives are more susceptible to lacking true individuality since they absorb projections far too easily. This is also why Venusians are so highly desirable. You can always tell when someone's Venusian or has an exalted Venus, they are projected onto HEAVILY by others, but by having desire projected onto them, they become more desirable. We fall in love with the reflections we see in others and dislike those who project our shadows (this is literally a Jungian concept, v fascinating pls look it up). Venus inspires others to project unattainability, mystery, romance, beauty and desire and the more they see it, the more it manifests.

However this has its pitfalls. Without solid grounding, Venusians turn into chameleons who are constantly morphing into their environment; they are known for their hospitality and pleasing demeanour because of their innate ability to pick up on these cues and behave accordingly. Bella Hadid herself is self admittedly a "people pleaser" (Venusian natives struggle with this a lot).

What does it mean to not have a solid sense of self and constantly be serving as a mirror to others?

We see Bella's shifting style/demeanour/persona with every boyfriend. There is rather embarrassing clip of her speaking with a French accent (juxtaposed against an old clip of her using AAVE). Venusians are more prone to picking up accents/emulating the behaviour of those around them.

The Venusian tendency to absorb can extend to picking up accents, mannerisms, style, self-presentation, persona etc it can sometimes be very superficial but in some cases natives immerse themselves in it so deeply than they live their lives under the guise of a pseudo persona borrowed from someone else.

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This video of Bella is a good example. If you've watched her in other videos you'll know that she does not usually speak/present herself this way. If you watch this video of Carla Bruni also discussing her iconic looks (it came out in the same year 2021, several months before Bella did hers) you can see how Bella is emulating Carla in her video.

Now its quite well known that Bella Hadid "copied" Carla Bruni's face through plastic surgery. This is what I mean by some Venusian natives taking the absorption thing too far. We imitate the things we want to embody/what we're inspired by, Venus is a planet of constant refinement/self improvement, while its good to be inspired by people we look up to, it does not bode well for one to embody them completely, stripping yourself of your own identity. This is also why Venus in 12h (Pisces) is said to be illusory. Its hard for these natives to discern what love really is, since their natural inclination is to simply embrace things at face value. This is why they are susceptible to abusive and toxic relationships, simply because they are blinded by their own loving nature and cannot see the faults in their lovers even when its plainly obvious to others (think Bella & The Weeknd).

Let us look at Miss Ariana Grande. She has Mars in Bharani atmakaraka.

Ariana has gone from baby voiced teen star to blackfishing r&b singer to vaguely asian looking in the span of her career.

She's also changed her voice, speaking style & mannerisms MANY times.

I don't think enough people talk about how Miss Grande essentially stole Victoria Monet's mannerisms, voice tone, speaking style etc

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Ariana essentially emulated this woman and that was her at the peak of her career. She's to Ariana what Carla Bruni is to Bella.

Its really unfortunate that Ariana changes races every few years like they're a passing fad and this is a really unfortunate manifestation of her Venusian influence.

Her Venusian influence is also really obvious in her music, especially her Bharani Mars because her music is very sensual but also straight up crass and horny, there's also a tendency for her to use revenge-y themes (break up with your gf im bored?? yes, and??)

Claire Nakti had spoken about how this purple blue-y iridescent esque lighting is very Venusian and consistently used in films by Venus natives. I found this true of Ariana's stage sets/design when she's on tour.

god is a woman is a very Venusian coded song/music video, from the colour palette to the Yonic imagery at display.

Brad Pitt is a male Bella Hadid in the sense that he has a tendency to morph into his girlfriends. He went from Cali stoner surfer guy when married to Jennifer to humanitarian serious filmmaker when he was with Angelina. He likes to switch up his persona based on his partner at the moment. He has a Purvashada Stellium (Mercury, Mars & Ketu)

Johnny Depp is known for his broadly European/British accent despite the fact that he's from Kentucky/Florida. He's a Purvashada Moon

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Madonna is another celebrity who is notorious for her fake accent. She lived in England briefly after marrying the British director Guy Ritchie and spoke with a British accent.

Many have accused Madonna of being a wannabe Angelina Jolie when she started to focus on humanitarian work & adopted several children in the mid 2000s. She is a Purvaphalguni Moon and Rising.

Camille Rowe (Purvashada stellium; sun, mercury and saturn) is often accused of having a fake French accent as she mostly grew up in America.

Hilaria Baldwin (Purvashada sun) is infamous for pretending to be Spanish, speaking with a fake Spanish accent and giving her numerous children Spanish names despite the fact that she's a plain old white woman.

Austin Butler is by now infamous for speaking like Elvis (he's now working with a coach to lose his Elvis accent lmao), he has Mars in Purvaphalguni as his amatyakaraka.

Lindsay Lohan (Bharani Moon, Mars in Purvashada amatyakaraka) has also switched accents and often spoke with an Arabic accent and has had an on & off relationship with Islam. Its unclear whether she's still practicing the faith but at one point she did convert. I do not mean to ridicule someone's faith or use it as an example of Venusian persona switching but a lot of Hollywood celebrities have a tendency to experiment with Eastern religions/traditions/culture like its some trend or fad and drop it when they lose interest. I do not have enough information to make a clear judgement but LiLo has had an unstable public image to say the least. I sincerely hope she is peaceful and safe.

John Malkovich is another celebrity who passes off as a European even though he's from mid-western America. He has a hard to place accent. He is Purvaphalguni Rising

Aishwarya Rai is known in India for being fake or "plastic" (I'm Indian) she has an unnatural non-Indian accent despite the fact that she's lived in India her whole life. She is a Purvashada Moon.

Numerous celebrities whose public image/persona is incongruent or at odds with their real personality also tend to have major Venus influence in their chart.

Charlie Chaplin is the father of slapstick comedy and is very well known by the persona he created for himself but irl he has been described as "sadistic" (by Marlon Brando and others) and he's known to have been a terrible person all over (multiple teen wives, abusive to his children among other things). He has Bharani Venus conjunct Mars and Jupiter in Purvashada conjunct Ketu

Elisabeth Moss is known for having played several iconic feminist characters but irl she's a scientologist. She has Ketu in Purvashada

This absorptive quality of Venus can also manifest positively. Meryl Streep, Bharani Moon is known for her uncanny ability to do just about any accent and completely blend into her character.

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I will add more examples as I find them but for now this is it!! If you think of any others do let me know!!<33

#vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #sidereal astrology #astrology notes #astrology observations #astroblr #nakshatras #astro observations #astro notes #astrology #Youtube

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