#and is talking about how she can’t push herself to draw long hours like she used to

[neversetyoufree]

Mochijun’s posting sneak peaks on twitter again!

Specifically, she’s been posting a zillion images of Olivier and talking about how he’s the one she can take pictures of without spoilers, which is 👀

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hannibal Lecter X Reader: Us lonely few

Warnings: talk of loneliness, smut, kissing, rough sex, unprotected sex, penetration (p in v), drinking, no use of y/n

Word count: 2,5K

The sound of Ave Maria floats out of Hannibal's office. It makes you hesitate, your hand freezing in mid air. You weren’t supposed to be here at such a late hour but you’d lost track of time. You started working as Hannibal's secretary a month ago. He’d never found himself in need of a secretary but you'd managed to impress him. He enjoyed the way your eyes lit up as he spoke about the mysteries of the mind so he decided to keep you around.

It was nice to have someone nearby. It didn’t matter that you usually remained outside of his office as you worked, just the thought of not being alone seemed to ease Hannibal. He liked your company. You were younger than him but you shared his taste for the finer things in life. Conversation came easy when he was with you. It was almost as if you’d been made for each other.

You knock on the door waiting for a response. When one doesn't come you lean your ear against the wood trying to listen for Hannibal's footsteps. The only sound that fills your ears is music. It’s likely he can’t hear you because of the song. You can barely hear yourself as you call out for him.

“Dr Lecter, I'm coming in.”

As always his door is unlocked. You push it open with ease, momentarily balancing the books you were holding on your hips. You close the door behind you before moving to scan the room, trying to find Hannibal. He has his back turned to you but somehow he still manages to sense your presence. 

“I thought you’d gone home.”

You walk over to his desk placing the books you were holding on it before going towards him. 

“I lost track of time. Your books are very fascinating.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them but I can't have you staying after hours.”

“You stay after hours.”

Hannibal looks up from his drawing to look at you. You meet his gaze, waiting to see how he’ll react to your comment. He stays serious for a second before smiling at you. 

“I suppose you're right.”

“I usually am.”

You grin at him before turning your attention back to his sketches. You lean over Hannibal's shoulder trying to get a better view. He watches you as you observe his work. He inhales deeply trying to commit your scent to memory. You're oblivious to his actions, far too focused on the drawing before you. It's a nude portrait of a woman. You can’t help but notice the way Hannibal has drawn her. There is a sensuality to the portrait but there is also a loneliness to the woman's expression.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes she is.”

“Why’s she sad?”

“What makes you think she’s sad?”

“The way you drew her.”

You point to the image carefully so that you won't smudge the pencil.

“She's looking behind herself as if she’s searching for something but the way her arms are wrapped around herself shows she didn’t find what she wanted.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well she’s holding herself isn't she? I mean, she didn’t find someone to hold her so she had to hold onto herself. She’s lonely.”

“ I guess I didn't think about it that way.”

“Art has a way of bringing our feelings to the surface. Even if we ourselves don’t know what we're feeling.”

“Are you insinuating that I'm lonely?”

“Aren’t you?”

Hannibal eyes bore into yours as he thinks. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe that is why, after all these years, he found himself with a secretary even though he didn't particularly need one. 

“It’s okay to feel lonely. It doesn't make you any less strong.”

“Do you feel lonely?”

“I’ve felt alone my whole life. So yeah you could say loneliness is something I'm familiar with.”

Hannibal placed his hand over yours causing you to look at his face. His eyes softened as he took in your features. You were a pretty thing. He’d been so impressed with your mind he often forgot you also had a beauty he hadn't had the pleasure of being graced with in a long time. 

“Do you enjoy filet mignon?”

You let out a laugh at his question, eyes furring in curiosity.

“I do. Why?”

“I’m inviting you to dinner.”

“At your house?”

“Yes.”

“As long as I'm not intruding.”

“Not at all. I enjoy your company.”

Hannibal's house was very him. There were artworks scattered around the rooms and knowledge seemed to seep out of the walls. You removed your shoes and placed them by the door. Hannibal looked at you questioningly. “I don’t want to get your floors dirty.”

“If you feel more comfortable that way, be my guest.”

“You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you. The kitchen is this way.”

You followed Hannibal, eyes moving over every inch of his home you could see. A small gasp left your lips as you walked into the kitchen. You always enjoyed the culinary arts but you’d never had the pleasure of owning a kitchen big enough to explore your talents properly. Hannibal watched you as you moved around the room, a small smile tugging at his lips at your unfiltered fascination.

“I take it you enjoy cooking.”

“I’ve always had a curiosity for it but I'm not very skilled. I won’t die of hunger but I've never made any adventurous recipes. Just the basics you know?”

“Would you like to sous chef?”

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful. You can start chopping the onions.”

You moved over to him grabbing the knife he handed you before moving to get the onions and a cutting board. Hannibal unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and pushed it up his arms allowing you to see his muscles. Your gaze lingered for a moment before focusing on your task once more. Hannibal moved around the kitchen with ease as he searched for the ingredients he needed. It was almost like a dance. You couldn’t help but watch him as he moved. He seemed so peaceful like this his mind completely focused on the meal he was preparing.

Your eyes started to sting as you continued to chop the onions. You sniffed quietly which caused Hannibal to look up at you. He watched as a single tear fell from your eyes before falling onto the counter. He moved over to you on instinct. You felt a hand on your cheek, turning to face Hannibal at his touch. His thumb moved over your skin, collecting your tears. It was an innocent caress but you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. He pulled his hand away from you, moving his thumb to his lips. He licked at his thumb, removing your tears from his skin. Your heartbeat fastened at the action. 

“Let’s switch tasks dear. Can’t have you crying in my kitchen. You can cut the meat.”

He paused for a moment glancing at the piece of raw meat on the counter before looking back at you.

“Unless it’s too much for you.”

“I’m not afraid of getting my hands a little bloody Hannibal. I’ll be fine.”

He knew you didn’t mean anything but it but his mind couldn’t help but wonder what you were capable of. You seemed like the type of person who knew how to hold their own. Still he wondered how far you’d be willing to go.

Hannibal took over chopping onions as you worked on the main piece of the meal. One he’d finished he moved over to watch you. Your hands moved over the pieces of meat with an unusual softness. Despite that you seemed to be having a hard time figuring out how big the pieces should be. Hannibal sensed your struggle. He moved behind you, his chest brushing against your back as he reached to place his hand over yours. You twisted your head to the side to look at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not at all dear. But you can cut the medallions a bit larger. Here let me help.”

You relaxed your arm so that Hannibal could maneuver your body in the way he wished. 

“There. That thickness is better.”

You turned to face him once more expecting him to be looking at the meat. Instead you found him staring at you. Your eyes dropped to his lips momentarily. You were so close to him that you could smell his aftershave. A breathy sigh left your mouth the air fanning over his lips. You wanted him to kiss you. His mouth opened but instead of kissing you he spoke.

“Could you set the table for us?”

“Oh. Yeah sure.”

“The silver ware is in the third drawer on the left.”

With that Hannibal unlatched himself from you allowing you to move over to where you needed. You walked over to the dining room. Your hands trembled as you placed the silver ware down. Hannibal's voice rang out from the kitchen.

“You can take a seat. It will be ready soon.” 

“Okay.”

A couple moments later Hannibal walked in with a platter in his hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

“Do you drink?”

“Occasionally. But I'm not picky.”

“This wine was aged in a maple barrel. It has a sweet taste to it which will go perfectly with the meat.”

“Everything looks delicious.”

“I agree.”

You couldn’t help but notice Hannibal wasn’t looking at the food as he spoke, he was looking at you.

You ate until you couldn’t anymore. Hannibal filled up your cup as soon as you downed the last sip. After you finished dinner the two of you made your way to his living room. You were a little tipsy due to the wine causing you to become unfiltered. You padded against Hannibal's floor, moving to music that only you could hear. He enjoyed watching you like this. You were usually so formal around him it was nice to see you in a more relaxed manner. Hannibal observed you stumble over to his piano, hands toying with the keys before glancing in his direction. 

“Do you play?”

“I do.”

“Will you play for me?”

Hannibal could never deny an audience. He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on, making his way over to where you stood. He sat down on the bench as you moved to rest your chin on the palm of your hand. Hannibal flexed his fingers, straightening his posture a bit before he began to play. The second his fingers began moving over the keys you became mesmerized. You walked over to the other side of the bench taking a seat beside him. You observed his fingers glide from one key to the other. He made it seem so easy. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds. As the song came to an end you slowly opened your eyes, a smile plastered against your face. You looked over at Hannibal only to find him already watching you. 

“That was beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Your eyes softened at Hannibal's words. Your hand moved to cup his cheek. Slowly, you inched your face closer to his until your lips were inches apart. You placed a gentle kiss to his mouth waiting to see how he’d react. When he didn't pull away you kissed him again with a little more strength this time. Hannibal opened his mouth to you. Your tongues moved together as you deepened the kiss. Hannibal's hand wrapped around your hips lifting you up with ease. He placed you on his lap. Your back dug into the keys of the piano as you continued to make out. Hannibal's hands dug into the flesh of your ass causing you to whine. You bit his lip, tugging at it with your teeth as you broke the kiss. Your hands moved over Hannibal's shirt, fingers working on unbuttoning it. He could sense the desperation in your actions. He moved his hand over to your chest tugging at the buttons of your dress shirt. The buttons seemed to be toying with him. He lost his patience. Before you knew it Hannibal had ripped your shirt open. You gasped as he leaned down to kiss the valley of your breasts. 

“Hannibal…”

“What is it?”

“Take me to your bed.”

The soft sheets of Hannibal's bed rubbed against your face as your body moved with his thrusts. Your fingers dug into his pillow as you screamed out his name. There was no mercy in his movements. He was fucking you so hard you were sure you wouldn’t bae able to walk tomorrow. You thought he’d stop after the first round but you’d been wrong. Once you’d gotten tired of riding him he’d flipped you around shoving your face down onto the bed before lifting your ass and continuing to pistol into your.

The bed creaked as he moved, muffling the sounds of your moans. His hands moved against your ass, fingers leaving crescent moon shapes on your skin as he continued to manhandle you. You were squeezing him so much that he was having a hard time moving in and out of you. He reached his hand to your waist lifting you off the bed. Your bare back pressed against his chest. Hannibal licked at your earlobe before biting into it. You let out a yelp causing him to shush you.

“You’re gonna cum for me again.”

“Hannibal i can’t-”

“Yes you can. I know you can.”

He placed kisses against your shoulder blade as one of his hands found their way to your pussy. His thumb found your clit. He grunted as he circled the small bundle of nerves. You panted against him, hands grabbing at his hair to anchor yourself. Your jaw fell slack as your orgasm washed over you. Hannibal stopped supporting your body causing you to fall forward into the bed. His grunts became more constant as he continued to fuck into you. It took a couple thrusts but soon enough he was spilling his seed into you. You heard his groan as he pulled out. You remain unmoving, still trying to recover from your orgasm. Hannibal returned to bed, laying down beside you. He tugged you closer to him. You laid your head on his chest, fingers moving to play with the hairs on his chest. He listened to you breath, his hand moving to caress your hair as he did. 

“You were right.”

“Usually am. But what was I right about exactly?”

“She was lonely.”

You let out an understanding hum, comprehending what he was confessing to you.

“Is she still lonely?”

“No. Not anymore. She found someone to keep her company.”

“I’m glad. I’m sure they were just as lonely as she was.”

“It's a good thing they found each other then.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The two of you had been crafted by different artists but in your own way you’d been made for each other. If you hadn't been sure of that before you were certain of it now.

[cokoweee]

OH wow! Two updates in 24 hours! Okay I really wanted to dig into this, because there were so many things on just the writing and dialogue and I LOVE it!

These two panels were fun, because there is something soft in Kendra’s face. Nostalgia, affection…also the wet beads of water coming off her hair, since she climbed out of the bath….but I’ll continue this rant later…

This is interesting….We have seen Donnie borderline catatonic so this could be Draxum’s latent parental instincts not wanting to push Donnie just yet. (Or worried that Kendra might be a trigger?)

Though funny that this was what pushed Casey to reach out….I included a snippet from Replica…but…lol both you and Kat having Casey very particular about her male family members helping her out, is understandable

Heh…that’s rich, considering you are gonna have your own lizard children Kendra…not that you know that, I guess… Still this feels like a “tempting fate” line/foreshadowing. Mostly, because Casey insisted that the father is human. (I think?) But likely a jab at how Kendra calls her “Beast” all the time.

Ohhh…what is this trinket?! <_<

This is the face of someone who is either gonna pretend to be a toy or a child if Kendra gets pulled over XD

Okay this brings me back to my thoughts after the first image…Kendra likely had been thinking about stuff since her initial talk while fixing Yuichi’s arm the first time. However the “event” and Raph’s chat with her possibly had her start really mulling over it. We know Kendra has been struggling with her identity in the way of not belonging. She accepted she was an outcast…and possibly still considers herself an outcast. However with everything she has been doing: the training, modifying the jetpack, upgrading Yuichi’s arm…it certainly is setting this precedence. If Kendra doesn’t fit in this group’s mold by default, she is gonna make some changes so she does.

The past Kendra would never adjust to accommodate others. She is unapologetically herself. So why is she going through the trouble to make little changes…why does she want to properly ask Donnie if she can stay with him? Because when you love someone, you accommodate them. And not in the way, that you should change yourself for someone. However if there are traits that are holding you back, and it benefits you both in the long run, sometimes little changes are necessary. Kendra is changing, because she wants this. She may not know how her dynamic will change, but she wants it to get better.

And…I forget how I planned to wrap this up, but…. It is an organic way to bring happily ever after that much closer, and in a way that doesn’t compromise Kendra’s identity. Again, your writing and dialogue are amazing, and the way you pair it with your drawings makes some great storytelling.

Oof writing is such a struggle but considering I do hours of acting out dialogue both irl and in my head certainly do help. NOW TO ANSWER SOME OF THESE LIL SNIPPETS U SEPERATED but under a cut cause this is a bit long lol

Draxum is a weird dude to write for me but for me he’s another that lost almost his whole fam. He doesn’t wanna risk losing the last one that’s there even if they aren’t how they once were.

CASEY NOT WANTING DRAXUM ALL UP IN HER 🍰 IS A REAL! ITS LIKE UR GRANDPA/DAD/UNCLE SAYING THEYLL DO IT FOR YOU

That lil TrInkEt will be helpful later :D (I think. Please I haven’t fully thought this plan through)

You point out that she never would accommodate for someone else and yuh you’re right. Bitch would make others accommodate to her. This tho

“Because when you love someone, you accommodate them”

Idk how to word this, it’s pretty difficult to conjure up in my head words for this. For her it’s. She can’t see those feelings. Define them. It’s a case of extra caring without knowing why and it’s irritating. Like a fly u can’t kill. Or a butterfly. Pretty and you don’t want it to leave but also don’t want that big bitch flying all up in your face

[autisticlancemcclain]

Pidge dreams of a swamp. She wakes up hot and sweaty and miserable. She’s sticky, all over, and especially below the waist. The air smells of iron.

“Oh, fuck,” she mutters, and bursts into tears.

She knew this was coming. She’s fifteen — beyond a late bloomer, really — but some part of her hoped she would hold off on it. Forever, maybe.

Or at least until she’s with her mama again.

She drags herself upright, gagging at the feeling of wet sheets smearing on her bare legs. The smell of blood is almost overwhelming (Lance not moving behind them blasted already barely woke up blood everywhere whole room smells nothing she can do Hunk knocked out covering her six information is vital they can’t pull back nothing she can do Keith scratched to hell lightyears away Red yelling nothing she can do Allura dragged away by the Galra they’re hurting her on the way own splitting the skin nothing she can do her team her friends her family broken and hurting nothing she can do never anything she can do). She shoves her face into her knees, trying to muffle her cries, but they burst out of her, rough and raw and scared and mourning. She chokes on her own sobs, wailing, everything hitting her at once.

Panic that is not her own pushes at the back of her mind, head butting her brain.

Cub, the Green Lion says, distressed. Breathe, cub. Please.

“I want my mom,” Pidge wails. “She’s supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be here!”

I know you do. The Green Lion’s tone is gentler, this time. Less prodding, more…resigned, almost. Pained. I know, Kathleen.

Pidge’s Lion tries to placate her, flooding her brain with comfort and love, but Pidge can feel herself getting hysterical, feel her breathing getting short.

“I wanna go home, I wanna go home, I wanna go home —”

“Pidge?”

The door creaks loudly, making Pidge flinch, and faint light shines into the room. The smell of juniberries pierces through the pungent smell of blood. A soft hand rests on the back of her tangled hair, brushing through the knots.

“Oh, Katie,” Allura sighs. She slides her hand down to Pidge’s shoulder and pulls her close, squeezing her gently. Pidge goes willingly — Allura isn’t her mother, and she’s nothing like her mother, but Allura is sweet and kind and knows everything, and Pidge needs that right now.

“Just take some time, asteraki. We’ll figure it out soon.”

Pidge leans into it. Her lower stomach aches, constantly, and her eyes sting. She still feels sticky and gross. She needs to comfort. She cries until she doesn’t think she can anymore.

“Okay,” Allura says gently, God knows how long later. “Come on up, okay? Let’s go to the washroom. I’ll draw a bath.”

Pidge drags herself out of the bed, stumbling after her. Allura tests the water three times, making sure it’s perfect, and dumps in way too many bubbles. She helps Pidge out of her ruined bottoms, guiding her into the bath. She carefully rubs shampoo into Pidge’s hair, rubbing out the pain in her roots, combing out the tangles.

She says nothing for hours, just quietly helping Pidge put herself back together. She drains the bath when it goes lukewarm, laying out fresh clothes. She strips the sheets, tossing them in a random hamper, and turns over clean ones, guiding Pidge into them.

“Move over,” she says, when Pidge settles into the middle. She glances at Allura in mild surprise, too tired to summon up something more verbal, but complies. To her further surprise Allura scoots in after her, half-reclining against the headboard. She gently tugs Pidge towards her until she gets the hint, leaning against Allura’s chest, gripping her shirt. Allura’s hands slide into her hair again, twisting the wet curls.

“My mom prepared me for my period,” Pidge says quietly.

Allura hums, gesturing for Pidge to continue.

“She told me what supplies to use, what to expect. Very scientific, my mom. But it was just — I don’t know. I wanted her to be there. I wanted to talk to her about it, when it happened.”

“My experience was similar,” Allura says quietly. “I had a — list of letters, from my mother. She knew she was ill, that she wasn’t going to be there for long, so she wrote a series of letters for me for various milestones. I had one for my first period, but it wasn’t…the same.”

Pidge squeezes her hand.

“This no mom shit sucks.”

Allura snorts. “It does.”

Allura keeps her hands clutched with Pidge’s. She holds her tightly, and Pidge doesn’t feel good, but she feels — better.

Big sisters make everythint better, Pidge is learning.

[basilone]

22 for Nora Graham from the trio prompts?

Thank you for sending this one! Prompt 22 is a red convertible, a priest’s collar and dogtags... which naturally made me think of Nora & Crank! 😊 I hope you will like this one.

It’s remarkably easy to hide this.

It helps, she supposes, that most days when she walks out the girls aren’t clamoring a where are you going, Nora at her. They used to back when they were in training, but she’s well-practiced enough to make everything she does sound like a great boring yawn. Just going to grab another cup of coffee, just going on a walk and watch the birds, just going to find a place to sit and draw my maps in peace, and nobody bothers to ask to come along to any of that.

She sometimes wonders how it is that they didn’t wash out. Tiny spends more time gossiping than anyone she knows, but yet managed to get her pilot license just fine. Val and Push are some of the most combative arguers she’s ever met, getting into trouble for it until they’re airborne and doing their jobs better than anybody. By all rights, Frosty should have been on the outs when the brass figured out just what that Lombardi surname was about – all Chicago mob in that girl, right down to her stash of cash and jewels – but then Frosty’d calculated a bomb drop with alarming accuracy and that had stopped them all cold.

Nora supposes beggars can’t be choosers in a time of war. Whatever she considers to be their personal flaws – Max calling girls pretty but never calling a man handsome, One-Eye’s refusal to sleep without her teddy, Dee’s hatred of men’s mustaches – are things that Colonel Huglin and Colonel Harding both wouldn’t give a damn about. As long as they can fly right, it hardly matters what they do when down on the ground.

“You’re doing it again,” says Charles, then, all soft admonishment beside her.

She allows her grin to stretch to the corners of her mouth. “Doing what?”

“Thinking too hard for the occasion.”

“One of us ought to,” she says, turning her head only to find him smiling at her already. “Just realizing that nobody cares what we do as long as we’re able to get into a bomber and give hell to everyone who deserves it. It’s a sole purpose sort of thing, you know?”

“Hmm.”

“That’s a hmm, Nora, you are clever but I disagree sort of hmm.”

“I wouldn’t say nobody cares.” His voice is as earnest as his eyes – soft yet unyielding – and a soft sigh accompanies his words. “They care enough to send us to a flak house, or give us weekend passes when we really need them. They care enough to keep us grounded when we fly too much. Buck would’ve passed out if they’d made him fly one more run, but they sent him to barracks and made Lottie fly with DeMarco day before last.”

“Which was a great decision, considering that she is finally realizing this fad of hers with Darlene won’t last and DeMarco’s solely responsible for that realization hitting her at all,” says Nora, rolling her eyes a little to let Charles know just what she thinks of all that. “It was like being in a plane with my parents, who’d also pretend everything is fine while making you feel miserable over dinner. Val kept talking over comms just to stave off how unbelievably awkward it was to have DeMarco in our plane. It took two hours before Lottie gave him more than one syllable answers. Two hours, Charles!”

“At least they’re talking again now, aren’t they? I would say it worked out all right.”

“Of course you would say that, you weren’t stuck in a bomber having to give directions to two pilots who both like the same girl,” snorts Nora as she gives him a nudge. “I still don’t think that’s a lot of care going into those sorts of decisions, you know.”

“If nobody cared,” he hums, taking a sip of his coffee, “I could marry you tomorrow without either one of us being sent home about that.”

Nora feels herself flushing crimson from the root of her hair all the way down to her toes. “I thought you said we had to wait until we got home? That you wanted that sweet red convertible to drive us off into the sunset with?” she teases, remembering some of his more fanciful daydreams she had laughed about before realizing he was really quite serious. “Maybe we should get married – find someone with a priest’s collar to do the job – and just not tell anybody.”

Charles’s eyes crinkle into a broad smile. “Don’t have a ring,” he says, ducking his head slightly as he takes a bigger gulp of his drink. “Am saving up to get you one. That’s easy enough, just need to avoid playing craps with DeMarco for a while...”

“We could… exchange dogtags. Or ask Two what sort of thing she’s exchanging with Blakely the second they go on leave.”

“What?”

“Apparently they’re getting married,” shrugs Nora, having mostly learned this through Tiny’s inability to keep quiet about anything. “They’re being too obvious about it, once you know where to look”– Two’s post-flight smiles, Blakely’s refusal to dance with other girls –“but I suppose not everyone is as good as us at hiding that sort of thing. We could pull a sneak wedding off better than they could.”

“Or we could wait,” he says, hand finding hers, “and do all of it better than they could. None of this hurried business where you don’t even have a dress for the occasion. I want us to have a moment, Nora. Something just for us, without…”

“Without the war peeking around the corner asking us to get back into our bombers,” she sighs, dropping her head onto his shoulder. “I know. I want that, too. That moment with you, where it’s nothing but us, where it’s just love. I was just…” Being silly, she almost says, except she doesn’t think Charles would find it silly at all. “I was just getting ahead of myself.”

“I was there with you. Ahead and terribly in love with you about it.”

“Really? Tell me more about that,” she smiles, lifting her head off his shoulder just to kiss his cheek. “How in love are we talking, hm?” She can’t help but giggle as he takes his time to set his coffee cup down. “Oh, you need to take a moment, Charl–mmph!”

“More than a moment,” he laughs, once he pulls back from their kiss. “I am, after all, very in love.”

“Keep talking,” she says, before kissing him briefly.

“Can’t,” he breathes as her hands slip into his curls, “unless by talking you mean…”

Nora tilts her head. Nudges her nose against his a moment. “Kiss me more?”

It shouldn’t be easy to hide this. But for now, toppled over in the grass and laughing about it, Nora is glad this is the one thing she doesn’t have to share.

[misslavenderlady]

My name's Bree. How can I help you?💉📒

Shoutout to @hypocriticaltypwriter for the inspiration!

REF/INFO BELOW CUT 💜💜💜

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Bree 

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 25

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: Female She/They

𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 5'8

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: ISFJ 

Though very shy around others, Bree has a good head on her shoulders and a kind heart. She values the work she does, making sure to help others as best as she can. Not only does she care about her patients, but she also likes to help out her friends and coworkers. Being useful for a greater good is something truly valuable to her, though it can sometimes get the better of her.

Bree struggles quite a bit with stress. She tries to push herself to a point where burnout is inevitable. All she wants is to be helpful, but it can cause her to feel tired and depressed after the long days of work. She feels guilty about the idea of leaving her field of work, as so many patients count on her care. It makes her feel a bit stuck and frustrated. Her biggest dream in life is to become a writer, becoming the next Bram Stoker or Mary Shelley.

She’s fascinated with romance and monsters, inspired to bring such two complex things together. During her free time, she enjoys writing down short stories that she hopes to get published some day.

Bree is used to blending into the background, not really one to get attention from boys in her teenage years. However, she has blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and others are starting to notice her more. Since she’s not used to such affection and attention, it makes her quite bashful~

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞: Bree is often in her work uniform. As a nurse, she wears a light blue work dress with a white collar, cuffs and belt. Outside of work, she prefers to wear more soft and loose clothing. Usually she wears fun sweatshirts and stretchy jeans with converse sneakers. A special accessory she wears every day is her silver key necklace. It has an amethyst gemstone in the center. 

Her skin is quite pale, as she has to stay out of the sun, lest she want a nasty sunburn. She’s got a dusting of freckles on her face. Her makeup is plain, often just mascara and chapstick. She can’t do a full face of makeup every day, as it would just end up on her face mask whenever she puts it on. 

Bree is more chubby in her features, making her insecure compared to the thin, toned bodies she sees on the Santa Carla boardwalk. However, she’s got several beautiful features and a shapely body. Her hair is flowing and thick with brunette color. She’s got some natural highlights from the rays of the sunshine. She often hides behind her long hair, sometimes too shy to show her face.

𝐉𝐨𝐛: She’s a nurse at Santa Carla Medical Clinic. She works night shifts, as nobody else wants them. Bree is a natural night owl, so it ends up working in her favor. Most of her job is front desk admin work, but she also provides checkups and vaccinations/blood draws when need be. 

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬:

B (Michael, Sam, coworkers)

My dear, Darling, Beautiful, Sweetling (David)

Baby, Babygirl, Little lady (Dwayne)

Mama, Sugar, Pretty girl (Paul)

Bella, Bellisima, Angel (Marko)

Babe, Baby (Michael)

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞?: Bree is in your typical multi-roommate-in-small-apartment setup. She moved out to California with her friends so she could start fresh, and was able to get set up in the basement of the condo they found. Her roommates are usually asleep whenever she’s awake due to their different work hours, which she doesn’t mind. She finds peace in the night time, though she does tend to get lonely. 

Though their home doesn’t have a lot of space, Bree has worked hard to make it cozy. It’s not far from the boardwalk, meaning a lot of shops are within walking distance.

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲: 

Bree has always been a bit of odd girl. Growing up, she found herself in the school library quite a bit. She was too shy to talk to other kids, and was afraid of bullies that would pick on her for being extra sensitive (not to mention they were quite unkind to her and her chubby features). She would often switch back and forth between romance novels and scary stories, finding equal interest in love and darkness. The two began to blend together, and she became attracted to the monsters that were supposed to frighten her. She found sympathy in these creatures, as she knew what it was like to feel isolated and tormented for simply being different. 

A passion for writing her own stories was born, and every chance she got, she would eagerly write down stories of these monsters in her journal. Ones where they would get happy ending rather than tragic downfalls. It fueled her dream of becoming a writer someday, and even when she pursued a career in the medical field, she never forgot her true passion.

She became a bit more confident in herself when she got older, and ended up making close friends. They were very supportive of her work, and were there for her when her mother got sick. When she finished school and got her degree, Bree found out her friends had their sights set on California. The complete opposite side of the country. She was scared of such a massive change, but her family encouraged it, as she would have more opportunities for her writing to get noticed in such an environment. Touched by their support, Bree took the jump and moved cross-country with her friends.

Until she can fulfill her writing dream, she’s working hard as a nurse. Not only does she provide for herself, but for her beloved chocolate labrador as well.

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡: She’s torn at the moment. On the one hand, she is infatuated with Michael. He’s kind and gentle and very responsible. She admires the dedication he has to his family and appreciates his sweet nature keeping her spirits up. On the other hand, she can’t stop thinking about the mysterious pack of biker boys that she sees in her office now and then. There’s something about them that draws her in. Something dark and mysterious. It’s like a siren’s call, and she’s powerless around them. 

(She wouldn’t mind a poly relationship, but she does have somewhat of an extra fondness for Dwayne, given how good he is with Laddie)

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡: Bree was able to use her degree to get set up at local primary care doctor’s office. It was there that she so happened to meet Michael Emerson, a handsome guy who decided to pursue physical therapy as a study once he got his GED. He worked part time in between night school, and Bree was completely smitten whenever they had the same shift. He was so doting and kind. A perfect gentleman who never failed to put a smile on her face. Sometimes his mother and little brother would stop by for a checkup or to simply say hello, and Bree found herself adoring them too. 

Michael explained to her at one point that he had a devastating breakup with a runaway girl he met during a past summer. He didn’t like to talk about what led to their breakup, but Bree never forced him to tell more. She was simply happy to be there for him, and she had a feeling that he was starting to open his heart up to her in return. 

However, he wasn’t the only man in her life.

During quieter nights, Bree started to get visits from four mysterious, yet very sexy bikers. They would ask for a walk-in appointment. A cut here, a sprain there, usual stuff. Normally, the office didn’t take walk-ins, but she was happy to examine them on her own. She suspected something was off about them when she found that their bodies weren’t exactly….normal. The stethoscope she used never could pick up a heartbeat. The blood sample she collected looked sparkly in the light. The thermometer always said their temperature was far below what it should have been. 

She was frightened at first…..but soon became intrigued. 

They were all so mysterious and unusual. The four of them watched her with hunger in their eyes. They’d coo sweet nothings to her, offering to take her out for a date or a ride on their motorcycles. Ask her back to their place for a drink. The more she got to know them personally, the more tempted she felt to listen to their call. Bree had the same fascination in the boys as she did with the monsters she read about growing up.

Little does she know that her indecision between Michael and the Lost Boys is more akin to a fight between good and evil~

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober: Day Three - Alterative Prompt: "Betrayal."

I felt bad about how short day three's story was, so here's another one for the alterative prompt: "betrayal." I wrote this in under an hour, so it might be a little messy. I'll edit it either tonight or tomorrow.

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping and murder.

Enjoy Abby and Fredbear (*cough Garrett cough*) being cute dorks.

Implied Schmelly (Vanessa x Mike).

--

Trust, for Mike, is like a double-edged sword. 

Trusting people means letting them in. It means letting them see him vulnerable. It means letting them in on how hard he’s struggling, and how close he is to his breaking point. 

But it also means having someone to rely on.

He hasn’t had that in a long time. 

His mom had been distant following Garrett’s disappearance, and his dad’s death a few months before Abby was born didn’t help matters. But Mike had been determined to set things right. Their family was a mess for years, and he hadn’t wanted his little sister to grow up feeling their misery. Slowly but surely, his mom came out of her shell. 

Mike saw her smile for the first time in years, staring down at Abby. 

They became closer, too. The distance created between them slowly started to go away. It wasn’t a fast process, but Mike finally had his mom back. After years of anguish and suffering alone in his guilt, he had someone to place his utmost trust in. 

And then….

…..she was gone.

Abby is someone he trusts, but she’s a child. And, as a general rule, Mike refuses to share anything too “grown-up” like with her. She’s a child and should be treated as such. He won’t allow her to grow-up so fast. 

And that’s not to say he has no friends. He has several….from school (which he graduated from years ago). Mike just hasn’t reached out to them, but he has them (he pushed down the stinging feeling of rejection when, after writing to them about his father’s passing, they never reached out to talk. He had needed them, but apparently they never needed him). 

And that’s why, when Vanessa came into his life, he was hesitant on letting her in. But she was persistent above all other things, and someone that seemed to have his best interest at heart. 

Abby even seemed to like her - if the picture on their fridge is anything to go on. (Abby is a lot like him, he’s found, in that, she enjoys drawing - a lot. After their mom’s death, she had stopped entirely. So, seeing her draw a picture like that, soothed something deep inside.)

So, it isn’t a surprise when Mike, too, started to like her. 

Vanessa understood him in ways no one else ever has. She shared very little about herself, but a lingering sadness seemed to follow her. She reminded him of himself. 

Mike found himself telling her all his secrets. He told her about Garrett. About his worries with Abby being taken away. About not being enough. 

And she listened to them all, a sympathetic grimace on her face. Her hand would find his, and give it a gentle pat.

He felt like she understood. 

Vanessa was his friend. 

He had trusted her. 

“Why?” He breathes out, voice shaky. She isn’t looking at him, her head bowed. “I trusted you!”

Vanessa looks up at him, eyes watery. “My brother,” she started, “I did it for my brother.”

Mike wants so badly to scream at, to ask why she hadn’t told him about Steve Raglan (or should he say, William Afton). 

He feels sick. 

So, so sick. 

“What?” He asks, because Mike doesn’t think he can say anything else without breaking down. 

Vanessa just shakes her head, backing up from the machine he’s currently locked into. The head of one of the animatronics hovers above his face. 

His heart breaks for the millionth time in his life. 

Mike doesn’t bother to call out to her as she hurries from the parts and services room. It won’t change anything, and they both know that. 

 He can’t find it within himself to fight. 

Mike grits his teeth, grimacing as the machine suddenly starts. 

He hopes Abby forgives him. Aunt Jane isn’t the kindest person in the world, but maybe she had been right all along. Maybe Abby would be better off with her. 

The mask is inches from his face. 

Mike shuts his eyes. There’s no point in watching. He wonders if this is what those poor kids had to go through. 

His heart breaks again, for the millionth-and-one time. 

The whirring of the machine quiets down. 

“Mike!” Abby shouts. 

He opens his eyes to see another-more unfamiliar-animatronic standing above him. For one terrible second, Mike thinks his sister is talking to him from the suit. He screams out her name. He can take the heartbreak and betrayal, but if he let his sister down….

“Abby?” 

The animatronic-a yellow bear-seems to furrow its eyebrows, equally as confused as him. 

“Down here,” she says. He turns his head, sighing in relief when he sees his little sister in one piece. 

“Thank god, you’re okay.”

“Fredbear kept me safe,” she tells him, a small smile on her face. “He says he knows you.”

Mike doesn’t know whether to correct that assumption, or play into it. The bear decides for him, reaching forward to help him out of the suit. Its movements are gentle, but Mike can’t help the slight wince whenever it gets too close.

Soon enough, he’s out of the machine, the bottom-half of the Freddy costume lays on the floor behind them. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, crossing his arms. 

Its one undamaged ear wiggles at his words. “You’re welcome,” it says. 

Mike looks at his sister. “Have you seen Vanessa by chance?”

Abby shakes her head. “No, why?” 

“She…” Mike trails off. There’s no reason for him to tell Abby about her not being who they thought she was. This is new territory for both of them, but he’s pretty sure this falls under “grown-up stuff.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just worried about her.”

Abby’s face lights up. “Well, she isn’t here, so I’m sure she’s okay.”

When her back is turned, Fredbear sends him an almost sad look. Like it knows that he’s lying for Abby’s sake.

He ignores it. 

“Let’s…go home.” He’ll have to come back another night. The contract he signed lasts five nights (seven if needed by the owner). But both Abby and him need sleep. It had been a long night. 

He takes her hand, leading her out of the building. His car is still parked out front. It’s not until Fredbear opens the door to his passenger side that he realizes it has followed him out of the restaurant. 

“Not to be rude, but what are you doing?” He asks. 

Abby answers for it. “He’s coming home with us. He says he used to live with you.”

“I want to go home,” it says, but it’s voice wavers between the cartoonishly deep voice that he's come to associate with Freddy, and another, smaller one that reminds him of…

“Okay,” Mike murmurs, too exhausted to fight, “but buckle your seatbelt.”

Its ear wiggles, again, and he can see Abby smiling in the rearview mirror. 

He pulls the car into reverse.

Tomorrow is another day. 

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

Oh! I almost missed these!

Yeah that sounds like a you problem and Bobby?

Okay, so. I know normally prompts are for fun times but... I needed something platonic. And something with one of the girls after all I've been writing for the last week. So. That + my own family drama means we got Bobby & Carrie sibs. Hope that's okay!

He can hear the loud stomping from down the hall and smiles to himself. Does he need to be in here tonight? No. Does it fuel him knowing how mad she’s going to be about it? Yes, absolutely. He needs to get his kicks from somewhere, right?

He schools his face back into a neutral expression, focusing back on his game. He continues half listening down the hall while he plays.

“Bobby!” Carrie shouts as she appears in the doorway, “I told you that I needed the TV room tonight!”

He doesn’t look up from his game. “It’s a common area, Carrie. You don’t get to lay claim to it just because you want. I was here first.”

“We talked about this,” she seethes through clenched teeth. 

Bobby has to concentrate to prevent himself from grinning. She is so predictable.

“You talked,” he reminds her. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

Carrie throws her hands up as she shrieks, “I hate you.”

Bobby shrugs. “Okay, and?”

She huffs defiantly, somehow managing to restrain herself from stomping her foot. “You’re the absolute worst brother.”

“How could you know? I’m your only brother. Besides, if it wasn’t me, it could be someone like…” he trails off, dragging out the teasing for as long as possible. “Reggie.”

Carrie draws in a sharp breath and Bobby manages to refrain from laughing. He knows that Carrie has a complicated relationship with Reggie. Much like everyone, if he’s being completely honest. Sometimes, he annoys the absolute shit out of them with his goofiness and naivete but there’s always an undercurrent of adoration. You can’t help but love Reggie. 

Well, most people, anyway. 

“Or Luke,” he adds, relishing in the way that she goes silent. 

“I’d have murdered him in the womb,” she says finally, voice dripping with derision. 

Bobby coughs out a laugh at that. 

Carrie sighs, “So can I have the room, please? The girls will be here any minute.”

“No,” he says simply. 

This time, she does stomp her feet. She lets out an angry growl. “I wish you’d never been born!” she yells as she storms back down the hall.

“That makes two of us,” he mutters

He was apparently louder than he’d intended because she doubles back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks from the doorway. He can hear the conflict in her voice, her tone somewhere between anger, annoyance, and worry.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Bobby decides he’s done playing his game, both the one on the television and the one with his sister. He saves and shuts down the console. He gathers his handful of things and stands, turning to face a very confused Carrie. 

“What are you-?” she asks. 

“I changed my mind. Have fun,” he says, brushing past her and toward his bedroom. 

It’s not long after, maybe half an hour, when there’s a knock on his door. 

“I don’t want to talk,” he calls, “leave me alone.”

Carrie opens his door a crack, just wide enough to see into his room. “Well too bad,” she tells him.

Bobby rolls his eyes, “Don’t you have friends to entertain?”

“They’re fine without me for a few minutes. I’m worried about you.”

He studies her for a moment before redirecting his attention to the book in his hand. “Yeah, that sounds like a you problem.”

She pushes his door open further, stepping into his room fully. She crosses her arms over her chest, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I didn’t ask you to be and it’s not my problem. You deal with your feelings and I’ll deal with mine.”

“Are you though?”

“Am I what?”

“Dealing with your feelings.”

He stares at her. “Are you?” 

“We’re not talking about me.”

“Exactly. I’m not your problem. You’re not mine. Go away.”

“Don’t say I never cared about you,” Carrie huffs as she turns on her heel to leave.

“Close the door!” 

She turns back to glare at him before wheeling back around and slamming his door closed behind her. 

Bobby sighs. He fumbles around for his bookmark, inexplicably finding it behind his pillow. He slides it into place to mark his spot and closes his book. 

He climbs off his bed, crouching down beside it. He reaches in under his mattress to dig out his secret notebook. He might not want to talk about his problems but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deal with them. In the only real way he knows how, anyway.

Bobby crawls back into his bed and digs out a pen from his bedside table. It’s not much but if he maybe gets a line or two to contribute to Luke’s next masterpiece, then so be it. If it helps to clear up some of his thoughts at the same time? Even better.

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

Fun Facts About: Tamsin x Donnie!

Here are a few little things that I thought I’d share about the couple, also got inspo from @lordfreg and her post about her OC Runa and Donnie! WHICH I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE FIC ABOUT THEM! :D

Anyway, onto the facts~!

-Donnie and Tamsin are polar opposites, aside from the sarcasm and teasing remarks, Tam is over all a bubbly person and big on physical touch- we all know Donnie doesn’t exactly lean into those categories, but he does love his wifey none the less.

-You know that thing Donnie said in the Albearto episode? ‘You’re so cute but so mean! Why do I always go for you type?!’

Ahem: Tamsin

-One of the things Donnie loves involves physical touch is when he lays his entire upper half on Tamsin’s legs while she reads, and she traces and pets his shell. He could lay there for HOURS and guess what she’s drawing into his shell- it’s almost a little game they have now!

-Donnie is a softy… Behind closed doors. He doesn’t really like being super touchy or clingy around his brothers or when he’s busy, he likes focusing on other matters before he considers PDA, which Tamsin is fine with! She gets sometimes he just doesn’t want to cuddle or be covered in smooches; she knows he still needs his bubble of space.

-But when Donnie does what to be cuddly, RIP. If he’s feeling cuddly he needs snuggles, he needs it for a while, so Tamsin is going anywhere LOL. (This was probably passed down to David who is the exact same-)

-Donnie was actually the first to initiate considering children! He grew up with a family that seemed to only grow bigger as Cass, Casey, and many others joined, so he thought about it long and for a while before he went to have a long talk about it with Tamsin…

-That’s a lie. He panicked and forgot everything he was gonna say as soon as he walked into the kitchen, seeing her washing dishes. All he did was march up behind her and exclaim: “I’d like you to bear my children.”

And he walked out. Leaving Tamry just standing like:

-Donnie taught Tam about chirps, churrs, and clicks, while she herself struggles communicating with them, she knows what they mean.

-Tamsin sings ‘Into The West’ from Lord Of The Rings as a lullaby to all the kids, but Donnie would admit hearing her hum it while he lays with her is very comforting.

-Oh my gosh these two LOVE dancing, you should see how absolutely excited Donnie gets when he’s listening to music in his lab and one of their favorite songs come on.

He is immediately sprinting to their room or wherever she’d be and pulls her away from what she’s doing to come dance. If she’s busy with the kids, who says they can’t join in too? Their like their dad, the legendary BootyyyShaker9000, of course they love dancing with their parents!

Of course Karai gets embarrassed soon after when her parents start dancing together, giving a few flirty remarks to one another.

“Say, I don’t think I’ve seen you round this lab before. What’s the name, babe?”

“Oh, after tonight you won’t forget more than just my name~”

“MOOOOM DAAAAD! I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!!”

-Donnie is definitely the most protective parent- Tam is the more passive. She’s the one that tells her kids to walk off a crash on their bike or being pushed… Donnie at that point would’ve had an entire hospital wing made specifically for one of the kids.

-Tam and Don got married very young, they were around their twenties when they got married, and late twenties when they brought little Karai and the others into the world!

-Donnie, for the life of him, CANNOT stay away from home for more than three days or he (in the words of his dear brothers) becomes unbearable. He’s an anxious mess, as if once he leaves the Rebellion base would crumble to the ground.

“Did- did I forget to give Karai her staff? What if David climbs up the shelf again? Oh, Galileo- I didn’t put my uranium away! What if Maggie gets into it!?”

“You do know Tams is with em, right Donnie?”

“SO?!”

-Many, many days are spent with Donnie walking around his lab with two kids latched to each leg, two on his arms, and one on his shell… He’s not sure where they get their clinginess.

(Cue Tamry sitting on his lap watching him work and refusing to leave.)

Ah…

ANYWAY that’s all of the facts I could think of ATM, just wanted to share a lil bit of their relationship for funsies!

[cyberrat]

72nd Batch Of Fics: 12th Fill

Hana/Brigitte – cont B71F14 – Part 1/2 (or 3) – transwoman Brigitte; girls in love; dirty talk; (fantasizing about) anal – Brigitte and Hana make a fun bet!

---

Hana’s hand is wrapped around Brigitte’s ponytail, keeping her nice and close so she can keep sucking kisses into Brigitte’s mouth that take the breath out of her lungs.

She’s so much taller than Hana but when she’s with her she feels so soft and submissive and really really thankful that Hana doesn’t feel an ounce of shame crawling all over her.

It’s still difficult to believe that they are girlfriends now.

Hana is sitting sideways on Brigitte’s lap but for once there is a lull in their kissing and she just sighs all content and puts her head against Brigitte’s shoulder.

Brigitte draws idle little patterns on her thigh with a finger, thoughts just moving along. She’s half-hard but she doesn’t feel a particular urge to do something about it just now.

“What are your plans for the weekend? I thought we could do something…”

Hana hums thoughtfully, then sighs again; this time not all that content but a bit annoyed. “I can’t. I got to practice some stuff. There’s this charity tournament coming up and I can’t blow them off…”

“Well you shouldn’t, if it’s charity,” Brigitte says earnestly. “But uh… what kind of event? Like… video games?”

Hana nods, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “Sure! What other type of tournament would I be in, dummy?”

“Do you really have to practice for that? I mean… you already play so long each day, you’re a pro at everything.”

“It’s not one of my go-to games. I’m super rusty at it.”

Brigitte does not look convinced.

Hana rolls her eyes. “Listen. I know that you’re like a… video game virgin or something. Just believe me that it’s not that easy.”

“I am not! My dad played those really really old ones with me. Mario. But we… kind of got distracted I think, trying to pimp the system.”

She squints into the middle distance, trying to recall what exactly happened. Hana thumping her shoulder again jerks her out of her thoughts to look at her.

“Well first of all: that sounds fucking amazing and if there’s a pimped SNES in your garage, I absolutely want to see it. And second: why don’t we do a little bet?”

“What kind of bet?”

Brigitte tugs a loose strand of hair behind Hana’s ear. She tends to get distracted by how pretty she is; everything on her so dainty and pixie-like with a fierce personality that seems way too big for her body.

Hana curls her arms around Brigitte’s neck, pulling herself in until their tits are pressed together and her mouth is against her ear.

“I’ll let you play some Super Mario and if you can beat the first like… three stages or something without a game over, I’ll blow off practice and fuck you all. Weekend. Long.”

She suckles on Brigitte’s ear, biting into the soft flesh and pulling on it until the words have properly sunk into her brain and she curls her arms around Hana’s waist, holding her close to her body.

“And if I lose?”

Hana giggles, putting her head on Brigitte’s shoulder. “Well then I got to practice all weekend and you got to take care of your big fat cock all by your lonesome.”

She wiggles her ass back and forth, probably having been able to feel Brigitte’s half hard erection for the past hour or so.

Brigitte swallows thickly and nods. Honestly, it sounds like too much fun not to try and do it.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds fair.”

Hana squeals in delight, pressing a kiss against her girlfriend’s cheek and jumping up to get things ready.

Brigitte sits there, watching her hectically move about the room, trying to refrain from sliding a hand underneath her skirt and curling her fingers around her cock. She presses down on it until it is between her thighs which she clenches around her dick. It’s a bit painful but that’s kind of what she was going for anyway.

Anything to make her stop pushing toward that edge. Anything so she wouldn’t come just from watching Hana’s little ass bouncing around the room and fantasizing about holding her thighs together while she carefully squeezes her way into her perfect little peach.

And she could do that all weekend long. Just fuck Hana and fuck her and fuck her more until her pussy is so sore she begs her for some reprieve.

And then, maybe, she’ll offer Brigitte up her asshole. That secret little furl of muscle that Hana is surprisingly shy about getting wrecked on cock.

Fingers impatiently snapping in front of Brigitte’s face startle her out of her thoughts.

She looks up at Hana whose expression goes from exasperated to smug. Reaching out, she touches her cool fingertips to Brigitte’s flushed cheek.

“Have you been thinking something naughty just now?” she purrs. “Oh, what a dirty girl you are…”

Brigitte swallows thickly. Not knowing what to say, she just stares as Hana’s grin becomes wider.

“Have you been thinking about your reward?” she asks softly. She puts a hand on Brigitte’s shoulder and reaches down with the other to slowly – oh so slowly – ruck up her skirt.

She’s wearing panties underneath… but she might as well not. They’re so thin, Brigitte can see her gash through their fabric; her peach looking ripe and juicy and just perfect for Brigitte to fit her mouth around and suck until her labia are obscenely swollen along with her little clit-

“Oh wow… fuck… you really are horny, aren’t you?” Hana sounds surprised and delighted. Tucking the hem of her skirt into its waistband, she slowly lets a single finger dance along her slit. Once. Twice.

Tickling herself and mewling out the sweetest, breathiest moans. They’re played up, probably… but they sound so good-

Brigitte presses both hands against her lap, trying to keep her cock trapped. It’s throbbing painfully.

“Naughty little girlie… only thinking about sticking that big fat cock of your’s into my poor little cunny, are you?” Hana asks. It sounds a bit degrading; and Brigitte has trouble swallowing all the saliva flooding her mouth.

“I’m already starting to wet through my panties, you know…”

Brigitte has to wrench her gaze away from Hana gently brushing her finger along her gash. She stares at her cat-like eyes; the sharp, knowing grin on her face – and realizes that the game has already begun.

Hana isn’t playing fair, of course. She should have known.

Brigitte licks her lips, somehow finding her voice.

“You uh… you’re done, right?”

Hana’s eyes glitter. She looks dangerous in that moment; like a predator… only that Brigitte is some very willing prey.

“Oh I’m nowhere near done. But yeah. I set everything up. Sit on the floor, doggy, the cable isn’t long enough. We’re going full old school for this. You’re going to appreciate that, right?”

Brigitte starts to wonder if she should regret ever having poked that particular hornet’s nest, but honestly… she can only go out of this a winner at this point. Hana obviously is in a devious mood and while they haven’t been together for that long yet, Brigitte has found that Hana in a devious mood always ends up in some kind of orgasm.

So why the heck not?

“Do your worst.”

“Oh… I’ll make you eat those words.”

[faintblueivy]

So Imagine...

A world where Bruce Wayne died as a child in that alley that day, Martha and Thomas Wayne grieve as normal parents. They DO NOT BECOME BATMAN AND JOKER. 

Nothing ever remains the same after losing their little boy. So, Thomas buries himself in his work and Martha drowns herself in depression and pain. They do therapy and it works a little and life becomes bearable but...not happy.

One day, Alfred badgers the couple to go out and relax a little and buys them tickets for a circus - Haly’s circus. Everything was going nice and dandy and Martha was in awe of this little acrobat as much as the rest of the crowd when suddenly the rope snaps and the boy’s parents fall to their deaths - right in front of him and the gathering. Thomas is quick to jump in to see if he could help them in any way but Martha can see it in his eyes that they are as dead as they can be. 

They return to home with heavy hearts and Martha can’t get the image of the little boy out of her head. His skin was a light shade of bronze but his dark hair and bright cerulean blue eyes reminded her so much of Bruce that her heart wouldn’t rest. So a few days later she uses her connections to know if the child is safe and well cared for, when to her immense horror, she is replied that he was shipped to Gotham Juvie due to the lack of foster homes. She is enraged.

She calls Thomas and Alfred and lets them know about the little acrobat’s situation and declares that she was going to adopt him. They hesitate a little but she is not to be deterred as she goes ahead and brings the little boy home. 

Richard John Grayson - Wayne. Or Dick, as he likes to call himself. 

He is adamant that he wants no parents and Martha is fine because not only that she is old enough to be not his mother but also because no child can ever be her Bruce.

“You can just call me Grandma then.” She tells him.

His eyes are wide but he nods and then smiles and Martha, in a long while, has never felt this happy. 

Her new Grandson, despite losing his parents, is a ray of sunshine with unlimited supply of energy and the cold and empty manor is warm and happy again. 

Dick is a little charmer and even after Thomas and Alfred’s initial reluctance, they immediately fall in love with the boy and one day, when Martha comes down to the morning breakfast, she hears a happy, deep rumble - one she has not heard in many years. Thomas is laughing. 

There on the dining table, seated beside Dick, was Thomas laughing. Her eyes water at the scene and Alfred, who is standing beside her offers her a handkerchief. None of them mention how his own eyes are wet too.

 ...

Dick is sixteen, a brilliant boy in academics as much as they disinterest him but an invincible athlete. Martha has been told time and time again that her grandson is undoubtedly a international level gymnast. But he is a teenager.

And teenagers steal their grandparent’s ‘coolest’ car and rush off into the night. But they don’t come back with a little battered and bruised, homeless kid tucked under their arm.

“He had jacked three tires off your car. When I confronted him, he tried to hit me with a tire iron.” He says, amused, as Thomas tries to convince the child to show him his injuries.

“I didn’t do nothin’! He’s a fuckin’ big boob liar!” They boy screams, his blue green eyes glaring daggers at Dick.

“Language.” Both her and Alfred warn simultaneously.

After hours of struggle, interrogation and fuck you’s, Martha learns that the child’s name is Jason. He is twelve. Mother died form drug overdosing and Dad is a petty henchman of some crime lord. He ran away from multiple foster homes because they are so abusive that the child feels safer on streets. 

Martha goes on a rampage over Gotham’s foster care after that. She did not donate millions of dollars annually for children to feel safer on streets. After of lot of talks and reassurances and promises, Martha acquires her second grandchild.

Jason Peter Todd - Wayne. 

Jason is tiny. Malnourished like Leslie said. But he is sharp, observant and hungry for knowledge. Martha and Alfred joke that Jason is Thomas' soul child. Where Dick had loved activity and movement, Jason liked quiet and stability - Martha thinks that running and fighting for survival on streets every single day does that you. So evenings often found her and Dick in the garden but Thomas and Jason in the library pouring over as many books as they can.

And to nobody's surprise, despite their rocky start, the boys become inseparable. They are outwardly different, with clashing interests and behaviors but Martha can see that they both carry the same cores of light.  

When the morning of Dick’s Parent’s death anniversary comes around, both her and Thomas find Jason on Dick’s bed, arms curled protectively around his big brother. For the first time in so many years, Dick wakes up to warmth surrounding him, not nightmares. 

...

Both her grandsons attend Gotham Academy so when she receives a phone call from the Principal, she is half surprised and half not. When she enters the Principal’s office, both her boys are standing on one side, Jason with his head hung in shame and Dick glaring daggers at the other side. The boy who seems to be injured is being coddled by his mother who is shooting nasty glares at her grandchildren periodically. 

Then she notices another small boy standing beside her boys, trying to melt into the wall.

Tim Drake. The only son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.    

She arches a questioning eyebrow at Dick who shakes his head and then she turns to the Principal. 

“What happened here?”

“Glad to see you’re here Mrs. Wayne.” The Principal says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I regret to inform you that your ward Jason Peter Todd attacked this young man here.” He gestures to the other boy. 

“Madam, Gotham Academy is a prestigious school and we do not encourage physical violence here. Yes, it might have been acceptable from where he came from but it won’t be, here. I hope you give us the right to punish Mr. Todd here appropriately.” 

Martha inwardly bristles at the jab at her grandson and says crisply, “Mr. Wayne.”

“What?”

“He’s not just Todd. He is a Wayne. Please remember that.”

“Principal Sir.” Dick cuts in and Martha is confused because as hyperactive as Dick is, he is a mannerly child and knows better than to cut in a conversation like this but what draws her attention is the chilling tone which Dick almost never uses. Dick continues, “Why don’t you tell our grandmother more of your regrets? Or the prestigious Gotham Academy believes that bullying is acceptable.” 

Martha has been told what she needs to know. 

“Jason?” she calls out to her youngest grandson softly, “What happened?”

Jason is quiet when suddenly Tim Drake moves forward. She can see he is scared the way his hands shake but determination shines in his blue eyes. She likes him.

“I want to say something.”

He narrates the tale of how he was being bullied and how the boy on the other side with his mother threw his science project model away and broke it and physically tried to attack him when Jason stepped in to save him. Martha felt nothing but pride at Jason’s righteous indignation. 

Tim also explained that Jason exercised immense control even after these bullies called him ‘street rat’, but the verbal spar intensified after Dick was insulted for his Romani heritage, but it came to fist fight after Thomas and Martha were insulted, and Bruce’s death was made fun of.

Her gaze snaps to the other three occupants of the room and they are all in various shades of pale. Apparently, the Principal had not done his homework.

“Principal” She says icily, “Yes, I give you the authority to punish Jason appropriately but only when this young man here”, she gestures to the boy who was now cowering behind his mother, “Is dealt with in the same way.”

After threatening the Principal in soft words but harsh tone about not tolerating to having her grandsons bullied the next time, she grabs Jason’s hand to drag him away from these people who don’t deserve his company, when her eyes fall on the little trembling Tim. 

She offers him her hand.

He stares at it, shocked but after an encouraging smile from Dick and a small shove from Jason, he takes it shyly.

And since that day, Tim becomes a member of Martha’s family. The boys stay together so much that even Thomas forgets that Tim is not theirs. 

Tim’s upbringing sends Martha’s grandmother instincts on a haywire and she resents the Drakes for their criminal neglect towards Tim. 

It is rewarding that Tim flourishes in their attention. 

She learns that his hobby is Photography and he is excellent at it. And he is a genius when it comes to science, computers and gadgets. He likes crime thrillers movies and books and often picks them apart with his scarily good knowledge about forensics that leave the rest of the family in awe and slightly disturbed. 

The dam breaks when one day Jason and Dick return back from school telling her that Tim was absent today and they are worried about him. When they later sneak into the Drake mansion in the evening, Thomas receives a frantic call from their oldest grandchild that Tim was burning with fever. Because Thomas is a doctor, they save Tim before anything serious happens.

This time, it is Thomas who sues the Drakes for Tim’s custody after him and Jason had, had enough of ‘Timbo’s shitty parents’.

“Timothy?” Martha brushes his sweat soaked forehead gently. “Would you like to be a member of our family legally?"

Tim is hesitant about this but he admits that he likes Wayne manor much better than he ever liked Drake mansion. He confesses that he loves Jason and Dick as brothers and sees Martha, Thomas and Alfred as his grandparents as well.

The long custody battle ends with both Jack and Janet Drake dying at the hands of two different tragedies, leaving Tim an orphan, but also with a loving family consisting of three grandparents and two brothers by his side. 

Timothy Jackson Drake - Wayne is adopted into the Wayne family as her and Thomas’ third grandson.

...

A year after they adopt Tim, Thomas comes home with a small girl on his side. She is clearly an east Asian in heritage with dark hair and dark eyes and is speech deprived. Thomas is clearly distressed after Cassandra - her name is Cassandra - is safely secured in warm bed in a nice room across Jason’s. He calls her, the three boys and Alfred to his study to explain about the small girl. 

He talks about how Gordon brought the girl to him and after hours of wordless, signed and clumsily sketched on paper conversations with the little girl they were able to determine that Cassandra was hiding from her father who was an assassin and wanted to drag the little girl down the same path before she ran away. The more he talks about the damage and abuse the girl had experienced at the hands on her own father, the more furious Martha becomes. When Thomas’ explanations ends, Jason slams a punch into the wall making a dent but no one has the heart to reprimand him for that. 

The following morning, Martha can see that her three boys have unanimously decided that they are adopting Cassandra as their sister. She is treated like a Princess, and given the nick name ‘Cass’. 

Slowly but surely, Cass learns what it means to love through Dick’s bright kindness, Jason’s quiet protection and Tim’s infinite patience. After her father is finally apprehended, the family celebrates.

Cassandra Wayne, soon after, becomes the beloved Wayne Princess of Gotham. 

Martha and Thomas often accompany their only granddaughter to her speech therapy lessons, so after six months of her adoption, at dinner, she places a kiss on everyone’s forehead - her three brothers and three grandparents, stands at the head of the table and croaks out, slowly, “Thank...thank you.” All of them stare at her flabbergasted, but it appears that she was planning to shock them even more.

“You...Love. Love you...”

The silence that follows her broken but sure words is deafening. Surprisingly it is Tim who breaks it as he scrambles out of his chair and launches himself at Cass, wrapping his arms around her and both Jason and Dick follow him, grabbing both their youngest siblings fiercely.

A quiet sob breaks her out of the trance and she smiles when she watches Thomas furiously wiping his tears from the sleeve of his shirt. The last time he     had cried was at Bruce’s funeral. And Martha is infinitely grateful that this time these are happy tears. 

...

Sometimes Martha wonders what would have happened if Bruce had lived. If these children are her grandchildren then does that mean they are Bruce’s kids? Had Bruce lived, would he have accepted these gaggle of kids that her and Thomas have collected over the years as his own? Would he have kids of his own? 

Her questions are answered when one day she hears a slight commotion in the entrance is surprised to see a young woman with a sword threatening Alfred.

“I want to meet the Master of this house. Let them know immediately.” She demands in an authoritative but silky voice, and Martha suddenly sees the Toddler clutched in her arm. 

“What is it?” Martha speaks as soon as she can when the woman notices her. She looks surprised for a second but immediately schools her features as the baby fusses.

“You’re alive.” She whispers and before any of them could make an indignant comment about her wordings, she says, “It appears that I might have traveled in to the wrong universe.”

Now that is interesting. Martha lives in a world where they are protected by aliens...so, it is certainly worth hearing for. 

Martha offers the young lady an invitation for tea which she accepts. She notices how the woman carries herself with lethal grace and dignity as if she was a Princess but much more. As they sit and Alfred leaves to bring the promised team Martha notices how the woman’s eyes sweep over the place. 

“How may I help you?”

Her voice attracts the attention of the toddler and this time, he is not clutched tightly enough to his mother’s chest to turn his small head and look at her. Martha gasps. Because the child looks too much like Toddler Bruce. But instead of the blue eyes like her son, this child has glowing green ones, like his mother. But still, the resemblance is uncanny. 

“Yes, he is your son’s.” The woman answers the unasked question.

She is explained the existence of Multiverse, and it’s workings and how Bruce survived instead of them in that world, met Talia (the woman’s name is Talia Al Ghul) and had a child but had to leave. Talia mentions the reason she came here was because her son’s life was in danger and Talia’s father wanted to raise her son as an assassin Prince and a tool for him to use. Talia’s solution to protect her son was for her to give her son to the Bruce of this world to raise, since the Bruce of that world had gone missing.   

“I can raise him.” Martha suddenly declares and the woman looks at him shocked. “I will not raise him into a life of violence but I can certainly protect him and give him a happy civilian life.”

Talia looks unsure, hesitant, but says, “I...have been a warrior since the day I can remember. Never once have I ever thought of my son not being a warrior. He was...born to be one.” 

Martha smiles. “He doesn’t have to be one. Yes, his life will be infinitely different than the one you imagined but...he will be well loved and protected. I can assure you of that.”

“Damian.” Talia whispers as he deposits the baby in her arms after a lot of consideration. “His name is Damian.”

She looks at her son tenderly one last time and places a kiss on his forehead and Martha’s heart breaks a little for the young mother. 

“Will you return back for him?” Martha asks as she follows the Talia to the door.

“No.” Talia whispers, her voice strained. “I will not. Any action taken by me is monitored by my father closely. If I return back, then he might know that I have left Damian here and I cannot let that happen. He is yours, forever.”

Martha gives her a sad smile. “You’re a brave and good mother Talia. Thank you for doing what is best for your son.”

She nods, not turning to look at Damian one last time as she leaves the manor grounds, never to return. 

Martha looks at the baby secure in her arms and her lips quirk up into a grin at the sight of two curious green eyes watching her with interest. 

“Welcome to the family, little Damian.”

When she introduces the new addition to the family, Thomas is dumbfounded. Dick is ecstatic at the prospect of having a new baby brother, Jason is secretly pleased, Cass is happiest and Tim looks unsure.

That’s how Damian Wayne - Al Ghul joins the family.

Damian fits in their home spectacularly. After few days of hesitation, like he had with Dick, Thomas takes to Damian quickly. He has an epic competition going on with their eldest grandson to become the baby’s favorite. Damian refuses to sleep without Thomas but his tantrums are only controlled and won over by Dick. Damian loves Jason manhandling him and giggles happily when the older boy throws him in the air or swings him around. Damian loves Cassandra because she knows what he wants before any of them do. And Cass loves to carry her little brother around to watch birds and animals in the manor grounds.

The only person Damian seems to not get along with is Tim and the older boy seems not be fond of him either. Because Damian wants everything Tim does and the older brother has to compromise for Damian every time. But Martha has to bite laughs a lot now a days because almost everytime Damian falls asleep, it is with Tim in vicinity. And she has caught the older boy tenderly covering Damian in his favorite blanket more often than not. Martha thinks that this is kind of cute but keeps her opinion to herself. 

Her little grandson is quite protective of his siblings though. Anytime someone upsets any of his siblings, they are threatened with scowls, growls and even bites and stabbings in extreme cases.

Like last time when Mrs. Park made fun of Cassandra’s  speech impairment, Damian almost bit her finger off. Damian hates one of Dick’s racist colleague (they all do) so much that anytime the man enters his field of vision, the first thing Damian gets his hand on is thrown at the guy’s head. With deadly precision. And last time when Mr. Link had called Jason ‘street rat’ for personally volunteering charity work for poor and homeless, Damian had smeared his juice and drool covered hands on the Man’s thousand dollars suit. And when one time, a reporter had infiltrated a Gala and chased Tim around to ask uncomfortable questions about his parent’s death and the Wayne’s involvement in it, Damian, noticing Tim’s distress had stabbed the reporter with a fork with no hesitation. 

Martha is still not sure if she should encourage or reprimand Damian for that.

...

As she sits on the head of the table with Thomas on her side and Alfred on the other end, she wonders how miraculous it is for her to have all these children in her life. 

Dick is engaged in an animated conversation with Stephanie who was introduced to the family as Tim’s girlfriend. Barbara, the daughter of James Gordon and Dick’s girlfirend/or not was helping Cass pile up food on her plate. Damian and Tim were bickering over something as usual but Jason trying to hide his snickers in guise of drinking water which made Martha sure that the something was Jason’s doing.

These people were her family. The ones she had gained after losing Bruce. She wonders, if there was a universe where Bruce got to meet her grandchildren. 

Would he accept them? As family? 

Would he love them? As family? 

She brightly smiles when the multiple sets of eyes turn to her waiting for her to blow the candle.

“Happy Birthday Martha.”

Thomas says warmly, his voice thick with emotion and she meets his gaze and sees the love, affection and thankfulness in his eyes for this family that they had created after their earth shattering loss. She knows what she wants as she blows the candle on the cake flickering in front of her.

I wish for us to be family in every universe.

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Shut Me Up

A/N: Here’s another smutty one-shot. I felt like something a little cliche so here it is. This was so fun to write! I’m still finding my footing in this fandom as a writer but I think I wanna start taking requests, the next fic I have coming out will be a request and I’m having fun with it so shoot me a message if there’s something you wanna see. I’ve just put together my Masterlist so you can check out my other fics there :)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N don’t exactly get on well. Will they be able to work out some of their frustration when they’re forced to share a room for the night?

Category: Pure smut baby

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sex, dirty talk, oral (female receiving), penetrative sex, name calling, light choking, hair pulling, scratching, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3850 words

The hotel is somehow worse than usual. It’s got so few rooms that they just narrowly grab enough for the whole team. But few enough that they have to bunk. Y/N didn't love sharing a room but it was better than having nowhere to sleep at all.

Prentiss tosses her a key, “That’s you and Reid” she says it so nonchalant that Y/N almost doesn’t notice it. Once in clicks in her head though she races down the hall.

“Hey, hey wait!” She calls out, a little too desperate, “Emily you can’t put me with Reid. We’ll kill each other.”

She laughs at that, it was on open secret amongst the team that Y/N and Spencer had something of a rivalry going. Bitter sworn enemies apparently. No one really bought it though. People who really truly hated each other would be a lot better at avoiding one another. But Y/N and Spencer could never seem to keep apart for very long.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to put your differences aside for a night.” she waves Y/N off as she heads into her own room, leaving her stranded in the hallway. Contemplating if the reception area might let her crash on the couch, she could even spend the night in one of the SUVs, the seats reclined far enough.

But that was stupid, why should she be the one who had to be uncomfortable, why not Spencer.

When she arrived at the door of her own room Spencer was slumped up against it, he stood up straight once he saw her coming.

“Took you long enough” he spat, reaching to take the key from her but she pulled it back before he had the chance.

“I was on the hunt for alternative sleeping arrangements” she huffs, unlocking the door.

“To no avail I presume?” he jokes but he’s just met with an eye roll.

“I’m taking the bed by the window” she stakes her claim before they even get through the door. Once they’re inside he lets out a chuckle.

“You’re welcome to the side of the bed by the window?” he jokes.

This was infinitely worse than she thought it was going to be. Where there were usually two generally uncomfortable twin beds in these standard small-town motels, instead there was a queen sized bed, staring at them as they stood at the foot of it.

“I get the bed” she says like she’s calling shotgun.

“Bullshit you get the bed, there’s nowhere else to sleep!” he complains.

She takes a second to scan the room, no sofa, no arm chair, the floor is a scratchy carpet. There’s no real option here. “You can sleep on the desk?” she suggests, and she’s not serious about it, but she wouldn’t say no if he agreed.

“Are you kidding me?” he almost shouts.

“Soft mattresses are bad for your back! Maybe it’ll sort out your posture?” she adds.

“There’s nothing wrong with my posture” he groans, massaging his temple.

“Okay sure, you tell yourself that”

They don’t say anything more about it as they unpack. Showering and changing for bed in silence. When Y/N comes out from he bathroom, Spencer is sitting up on one side of the bed, reading through case files by the light of the bedside lamp.

“Are you serious?” she whines.

“Look, we both need rest, just shut up and get over yourself” he says it without looking up from the file in his hand, his finger running over the lines at speed.

She doesn’t respond, she just climbs in on the other side, keeping herself as close to the edge of the mattress as possible to keep the distance in between them.

She lies like that for about 45 minutes but sleep’s just not coming.

“Are you ever gonna turn off that fucking light, I thought we ‘needed rest’” she mocks, turning over to look at him, still combing through the files, mumbling to himself every once in a while.

“We’ll both be useless tomorrow if we don’t get any sleep” she tries to convince him with a slightly more sincere tone.

This case wasn’t easy, the unsub had been abducting victims he’d met in online BDSM chatrooms. Bodies had been turning up murdered in ways that the victims had previously expressed were turn-ons. Suffocated, whipped, tied up in peculiar ways. There wasn’t much information to go on now, they just had to wait for the next body to turn up but that didn’t keep Spencer from pouring over everything a hundred times.

When he wasn’t being purposefully irritating Y/N honestly admired his work ethic. Just not when it was interfering with her much needed sleep.

“The bare minimum of sleep most humans need to live is just 4 hours in a 24 hour period” he blurts out, still not looking up.

“Well I’m not most humans, so knock it off”

He finally concedes, chucking his files onto the bedside table and shutting off the lamp. It’s now eerily quiet, and all she can hear is the steady breathing coming from the other side of the bed.

Enough time passes that she really should be asleep but it’s still not happening. So she’s already beyond irritated when she feels a slight shove against her shoulder.

“Hey, you still awake?” he sounds mischievous, she knows that tone of his voice and she doesn't like it.

“God! I am now! What do you want?” she mumbles into her pillow.

“I’ve just got a question” he says defensively.

She hums and rolls over to face him, he’s wide awake, “Well? Out with it” she encourages, the sooner this is over with the better.

His mouth twists into a smirk as he takes a minute to study her face, “What turns you on?” he asks it sincere, and she has no idea what to do with that.

Rolling her eyes on instinct she groans, “Ugh, are you serious? I was so close to getting to sleep, goodnight asshole.” she turns back around to end the conversation but he can’t leave it there.

“I’m serious actually, just all the talk about it earlier, I wanna know”

She doesn’t move as she speaks, remaining with her back to him in a bid not to engage, “You couldn’t handle that information.” She deadpans.

“Try me” he antagonizes, and that’s enough to set her off. He just didn’t know when to quit.

This could be a fun new way to tease him, is her first thought. Turn him on, leave him wanting, yet another game to add to their repertoire of spite.

“Fine I’ll give.” she turns back to him, staring intently this time, “Here’s one, I really get off on having my hair pulled” she scoots closer so she can lean in and whisper the next part, “like when I’m getting fucked from behind, or I’ve got someone’s cock down my throat. I love having my hair pulled, just the short sharp pain of it.” she sort of moans the last little bit right by his ear before settling back on her own pillow.

“That good enough?” she asks, and she can practically see his breath catch in his chest.

He takes a steady gulp, “Yeah, that was, informative” he breathes.

“And what about you?” she poses, he’s not getting out of this one so easy. He looks shocked, like he didn’t see this coming a mile off.

“Me? Uh—” he stutters, “My back, I get really— I get turned on when someone digs their nails into my back, like scratching and marking” something about seeing him flustered like this is almost endearing.

“I guess we’re both suckers for pain” she winks as she says it, making a move to turn around again in a bid to let the conversation die but he doesn’t give her the chance.

“Tell me another” he pleads, and she’s not sure what his expression means but she might just draw this out, see how far she can can tease this.

“Hmm, nosy aren't we?” she smirks, he doesn't respond, just waits for an answer. She thinks for a moment, “Have you ever choked anyone Dr. Reid?”

His breath hitches, and he shakes his head. She likes this new Spencer, the one that doesn’t seem to have some quip for her every two seconds.

“Well I think you might like it, you’ve got nice strong hands, long fingers too. I feel like they might make it the whole way round my neck if you tried?” her voice is soft like velvet as she speaks. He lets out a short pant, and she can see his eyes flicker down to her exposed throat before quickly coming back to her eyes.

“Does the idea of that turn you on Doc?” she teases.

“I— um—” he’s at a loss for words yet again.

“That’s not an answer now is it?” She taunts him, and moves to turn around once again. Feeling accomplished in her goal, finally about to get some sleep. But she’s barely closed her eyes when she can feel him move. He’s so close behind her that she can feel the heat radiating from him. His hand slowly reaches around and grasps her throat gently, she moves herself further into his grip on instinct and he runs with it. Using the leverage to pull himself right up behind her, and she can feel it. He’s hard, and she can feel him pushing himself right up against her ass.

“Is this a satisfactory answer?” he moves in close and whispers against her ear. She’s changed her mind, maybe this is her favorite Spencer.

“Mmhmm” she hums in response, and his fingers tighten around her neck. She pushes her ass further back, moving it up and down slightly to create some friction and she can feel him twitching through the thin layer of her nightdress. He starts to move with her, grinding against her, his other hand resting on her hip, fingertips digging in so that he can pull her closer.

She tries to moan when she feels his nails dig into her but it gets stifled in her throat.

“You sound pathetic” he whispers, “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re whining like a little slut” her hips buck involuntarily at that. “You like it when I call you names?” he teases.

The hand on her hip starts to pull at her nightdress, inching it up higher and higher until his fingers are on her bare skin. He digs his nails in just slightly and drags them around her thigh, letting them settle right at the hem of her panties.

“I bet if I put my fingers in here I’d find you soaking wet for me already?” When she doesn’t answer he tightens the hand around her throat so that it’s almost cutting off the air supply, then loosens immediately. “Answer me” he demands.

“Yes! Yes!” she moans, anything to get his hands to move where she wanted them.

“That’s what I thought” he laughs and lets go of her completely. Her dress hiked up, breathing ragged. She snaps back around to look at him and he’s already curled up on his side of the bed as though nothing’s happened. Left in shock she sits upright, crossing her arms across her chest.

“What the fuck was that?” she has to stop herself from outright shouting at him.

He turns back to look at her, taking in her sullen expression, “Disappointed are we?” he teases with a smirk. And that look makes her want to kill him.

“You’re such a dick” she huffs, and he sits upright next to her.

“You say that like I didn’t just beat you at your own game?” he tries to fight back.

“You didn’t beat me!” she protests

“Oh really, and how’s that?”

“I could feel you, you were rock hard before you even touched me” she spits it out, because if she turned him on first then somehow this didn’t feel as embarrassing.

“Yeah! Because you were teasing me!” he looks frustrated now,

“Exactly! Because I was teasing you, and you fucking liked it” he just rolls his eyes at that, pretending like it’s somehow not true.

“Shut the fuck up” he groans, running his hands through his hair and letting his head fall back against the headboard.

She quirks an eyebrow and looks straight into his sleepy eyes, “Make me.”

In less than a second his hands are on her again, grabbing and pulling her into his lap. One hand is firmly on her back, holding her tight against his chest, the other is tangled in her hair already. Grabbing fistfuls as their lips work against each other.

It’s heated, and ferocious, full of pent up aggression, or tension, or both.

As his tongue works against hers, she lets her own hands wander over him, finally coming to rest at the back of his head, tangling in his curls. When she grinds down into his lap she can feel his cock still hard beneath her, straining against the fabric of his boxers. She thought it was impossible but it felt harder than it had been earlier.

He breaks apart the kiss and they both take in wrecked breaths, chests heaving. He pulls at the hem of her nightdress, pushing it further up her thighs, grabbing a rough handful of her ass as his hands find the exposed skin there.

“We gotta get this off” he whispers, and she nods, pulling it off over her head so that she’s exposed now. Perched in his lap in nothing but her panties. “Fuck” he moans at the sight. His hands come straight up to grab her tits, rough and exited for a moment before easing up, kneading them, getting used to the weight of them in his hands. He brings his mouth down, leaning in so that he can place sloppy open mouthed kisses along her neck and collar bones, trailing down to the valley between her breasts. He takes one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it gently then teasing the bud with his teeth. When he releases it and looks up at her his eyes almost look glazed over, dreamy.

“I’ve always had a thing for your tits” he confesses, his lips coming down to repeat the action on the other nipple.

“Your turn to take your shirt off” she whines as he removes his lips, the cold air hardening her nipples now that he’d teased them. He drags his eyes away from her for a second so that he can peel his shirt off over his head.

On pure instinct she rakes her nails across his now bare chest, leaning in close to place kisses into the crook of his neck, moving up painfully slow, kissing along the column of his throat, landing on the soft skin beneath his ear. She can feel the moans rippling in his throat against her lips. While he’s stilled beneath her she takes the opportunity to tuck her hands in behind him, digging her nails into his back and dragging them across the skin with force. Certainly leaving harsh red lines in their wake. The noises that escape him might be the best thing she’s ever heard.

“You like it when I mark you up?” she moans into his ear, “When I make you mine?” she can feel wetness pooling between her own legs as she says the words. The very thought of it turning her on more than she ever thought it could.

Clearly he feels the same, something erupts in him and the hands that had been resting on her hips were now lifting her up and laying her down on the bed. He was on top of her now, his hair framing his face as he looked down at her, and she was biting her fucking lip in anticipation.

He almost can’t even look directly at her so he snakes down her body, littering her torso with kisses and licks. Once he lands at her hips he takes the elastic of her panties between his teeth, pulling it up and letting it go so that it snaps against her stomach. She lets out a low moan.

“Let’s see if I was right earlier, how wet are you for me?” his voice is low as he places small kisses over the cotton, making his way right in between her legs. He pulls back for a second to inspect the fabric, there’s a damp patch covering the majority of the area, as if he didn't know already. “You’re fucking soaked Y/N” he groans and presses his fingers right up against it, forcing the fabric between her folds so that it soaks up even more, “Such a needy little thing aren’t you?”

She can only let out a small whine in response, her teeth biting into her lip so hard she was afraid she might start bleeding.

“Better get rid of these, don’t you think?” he hooks his fingers into either side of her panties, sliding them down her legs. He takes them and places them on his pillow before returning to his position between her legs.

He’s slow and deliberate in his actions, teasing painfully as he places sloppy kisses on the delicate skin inside of her thighs. Stopping right at the top to nip and suck enough to leave a bruise. Taking the time to stop and leave a matching bruise on the other thigh.

She was starting to grow restless, she felt like she was literally aching for any stimulation at all.

“Spencer” she whines, “Please, I’m so fucking turned on already”. She can feel him chuckle, his exhale sends a burst of cold air right against her pussy.

“So impatient” he chastises, but gives in anyway. Laying his tongue flat against her, taking a moment to taste her before he starts to move. Licking deft strokes along her folds, alternating with sucking softly on her clit.

“Spencer, fuck, oh my god” is all she can muster as her back arches up off the bed, her hips squirming as he pins them down. “You feel so fucking good”

He takes the encouragement and brings a finger to her entrance, pushing it in at an agonizing pace, curling it upwards against her once it’s fully inside. “You’re so fucking tight Y/N, do you think you could even handle another finger?” he has to take his mouth off of her to speak but it’s worth it for the downright filthy sounds she makes in response. He takes that as a yes and slowly pushes two fingers in this time. Bringing his lips back down to wrap around her clit and suck.

Her hands fly down to his curls as he works his fingers in and out of her at a relentless pace. She grabs handfuls of his hair and pulls them harshly, not knowing where else to put the energy. “Fuck Spencer, feels so good, don’t stop” she mutters between gasps.

He continues his ministrations and he would be lying if he said the feeling of her hands pulling at his hair weren’t doing something for him.

A moment later and she’s barely able to control her movements, thrashing in the bed as he continues to work his fingers in and out of her, relishing the feeling of her walls tightening around him. Once she’s relaxed again he takes his fingers out, bringing them up to her lips, without telling her to she opens her mouth, taking the two fingers in, letting her tongue move around them to taste herself.

It’s one of the many memories from tonight he knows he wont forget anytime soon. Or ever.

“I can see why you like it” he says, leaning over her, talking into the crook of her neck, “having your hair pulled, feels fucking amazing” she lets out a weak laugh, regaining her strength.

“Told you you liked pain” she reaches down between them, grabbing his cock through his boxers, “You must’ve really liked it” she teases, squeezing as his eyes flutter shut and he nods.

He maneuvers a little so that he can take off his boxers, and finally she gets to see it. It’s perfect, bigger than she expected, it looks painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip. He moves back to hover over her, lingering for a minute to take her in. She thinks there might be something almost sweet behind his expression.

“Just fuck me already” she smirks up at him and he rolls his eyes without even meaning to.

“Will you ever stop antagonizing me?”

“If you fuck me maybe?”

With that he leans down to capture her lips in a heated kiss, she can taste herself on his tongue as it tangles with hers. She can feel him push up against her, the head of his cock just teasing at her entrance before sinking in so slowly she was almost angry.

“Fuck Y/N, you feel so good, so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me” he’s whispering right into her hear and she can barely string together a sentence.

“Spencer, you’re so big, fill me up so good with your fingers, with your cock, fuck” as he starts to move they both start to lose it, her hands digging into his back, her nails sinking into his shoulders leaving small half-moons in his skin. He finally starts to build a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of her, filling the room with the pornographic sounds of skin on skin, coupled with their moans.

Once she can feel the familiar feeling building within her again she starts to lose control completely, her nails scratching marks into the expanse of Spencer’s back, hearing the little breathy gasps he lets out each time she does might be enough to make her cum all on their own.

“I’m close” she mewls, letting her head fall back against the pillow, exposing her neck, eyes screwing shut.

“Fuck, me too” he takes the opportunity presented to him, and wraps one of his hands around her neck, squeezing ever so slightly.

“Ahh, fuck” she breathes out with the little air that she has, “gonna cum” and she does, he can feel her tighten around his cock, her body writhing beneath his and arching up off he bed as he continues to fuck into her.

He’s following behind just a second later, spilling into her as he collapses back down, releasing his grip on her throat completely and settling on her chest.

They both take a moment. Melting into one another, steading out their breathing.

It’s Y/N who breaks the silence, “So you’ve always had a thing for my tits then?”

He cranes his neck up to look at her, “Shut up” he breathes, laying his head back down on her chest. She cards her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back down.

“Now you know how to make me.”

Masterlist

[aquamarinescarlet]

Don’t give up just yet

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.6k

Warnings: two curse word (I think), brief mentions of sex and cheating, angst (bare in mind these warnings don’t apply the way you think they do, you’ll have to read to understand)

Summary: The classic soulmate AU, sentences written on each other’s wrists, but with a twist.

Author’s note: This was basically an excuse for me to reinvent the soulmate AU with the wrist tattoos thing. It’s sorta angsty, but I just thought the ending was too funny. Just experimenting here, tell me what you think.

PSA: Dividers are the count down till the day: black is reader focused, red is wanda focused, gold/yellow is also reader focused, but I thought it deserved a little spark.

“You should call her, y’know.”

“Why would I do that? She made her point very clear.”

“It’s her wedding day, Y/N,” Mia reasoned, “and this fight was months ago, you have to get over it.”

You rolled your eyes at her insistence. This discussion has been happening every day for the past two weeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I the one who should get over it?” You emphasized.

“He is her soulmate, and she is your sister, the least you could do is pretend.”

“Ugh,” you let out a guttural scream, “I can’t do this anymore Mia, I stand by what I said. That man is an asshole and this soulmate thing is stupid. I don’t trust him, no matter what the words on both their wrists say, and I’m not gonna watch her go down with this and not do anything about it.”

Mia didn’t respond, she knew she’d reached your last nerve. You watched as the woman left your office, sending a last sympathetic glance your way before walking into the hall. 

Mia was right in some points, and you knew that. She was right about it being your sister’s wedding day and that you should be there to support her. She was wrong about you needing to be the one to apologize though. The way people manipulated their lives to fit this whole twisted Soulmate Theory made your blood boil.

The Soulmate Theory was quite simple: everyone was born with a sentence written on their wrists, popular belief is that those are the first words your soulmate will say to you. It was cute, and it worked most of the time, not for your sister though. Or at least you thought so.

Oli's soulmate was Isaac. They had met three years ago and eventually started dating. Oli was a firm believer of the Soulmate Theory and had never dated anyone before, so it was all new and exciting.

You started noticing the patterns roughly one year after they started dating. He was controlling her, discreetly, barely noticeable, but it was there. 

First with clothes, Oli had made it a habit to always ask for his opinions on her clothing, and he would tell her he hated something, regardless of her telling him over and over again she had liked it. You made little comments here and there about his actions, mostly jokes but with some truth behind, she didn’t notice.

Second was friends, Isaac would always want to meet Oli’s friends, and if she went out with one he didn’t know he would make her feel guilty. You started giving more serious warnings, pointing out what he was doing more clearly, she didn’t care and called you crazy.

Third was her feelings, he had his mind set on what her role should be in his life. He praised Oli endlessly when she cooked or cleaned. Other than that, he didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to her stories, didn’t appreciate her paintings and drawings… 

It got to the point where she wouldn’t want to paint anymore, when she was telling a story it would be without her usual excitement. Her smile no longer reached her eyes, she was constantly tired. 

You confronted her about it, several times, but it was of no use. You’d point out the facts and she’d retort with ‘he is my soulmate, the universe bound us together, he wouldn’t do this to me!’

Three months ago was the last time you two talked. She told you he asked her hand. She knew you would be against it, she tried to ease you into the idea of her being with Isaac for the rest of her life. You weren’t having any of it. 

After hours of screaming, arguing and loads of tears, she told you not to come to the wedding, and you said you wouldn’t. 

It’s now four days from the date and you’re not going as long as he’s the one she’s marrying.

You stared at the words on your own wrist. ‘It’s you’. That sentence haunted you for years. What a stupid set of words for your soulmate to say.

As a kid you adored the Soulmate Theory, you paid meticulous attention to the first words you’d exchange with anyone, you made new friends nearly every day in hopes of hearing those words, but they never came.

Until they came. At first it was exhilarating, but the ones you said didn’t match the ones on the person’s wrist. You were extremely disappointed. And then you heard them again, and again, and again… It became almost routine. Every single person you met would say ‘it’s you’ or some variation of it. 

You being who you are certainly didn’t help. During college you had started a tech company and now it had grown to be one of the biggest and most important in the field. The new inventions did win you several prizes and a lot of money. You were also stupid famous, being the young brilliant CEO and all. 

Ever since, you gave up on looking for your soulmate. It seemed counter productive to get yourself all worked up just for it not to happen every single day. You made your peace with it, although a small part of you just wanted to meet said person.

The situation with Isaac and Oli helped. Seeing that it could end up hurting you made it easier to not fixate on finding your soulmate. Nonetheless, the desire was there; hidden, pushed to the back of your mind, but still there.

You just wished your sister could see it too, that the Soulmate Theory is not the solution to all her problems. 

“Relax Steve, it’s all taken care of.” 

“What about the flowers? Did you book the buffet? Did you check with the band? And the decorations? I saw some people didn’t RSVP yet, should I redo the seating charts?” Steve rambled on as Wanda just laughed.

“The flower problem is solved, the buffet confirmed, so did the band, the wedding planner is working on the decorations and redoing the whole seating chart seems… unnecessary, they still have three days to confirm their presence.” She reassured the man who was more stressed than her about the whole situation.

“Okay, sorry, I just want to make sure everything is perfect.” He huffed, taking a seat on the couch. 

“It’s going to be perfect, don’t worry.” She couldn’t help the weirdness that surged upon uttering those words.

“How are you so calm?” Wanda just shrugged, not really sure how to answer. 

Steve took a deep breath and gazed at the red head, offering her a smile. 

“I’m going to sleep, all this wedding stuff has been stressing me all day.” 

“Okay,” Steve made his way to his bedroom but she called him before he reached the hallway, “thanks for the help Rogers.” 

“No worries.” He shot a last smile before disappearing. 

Wanda found herself alone in the living room, the silence only making her thoughts scream louder.

She would be married in three days. It seemed unbelievable. After losing her parents, being experimented on at Hydra, fighting along Ultron, losing her brother and becoming an Avenger, she never thought she would have time to fall in love.

Yet, here she is. Although the feeling wasn’t quite what she thought it would be. It wasn’t exciting, or nerve racking. She felt no different than any other day of her life. Steve seemed like the one who was getting married, not her. 

Vision is sweet and caring, she feels so happy around him. Then what is causing all these doubts to haunt her?

She knows what it is, she just doesn’t want to admit it.

Those words. Those stupid words painted forever on her wrist. ‘Don’t do this’. Ever since joining the Avengers she started using several bracelets to hide them, but they still burned on her skin every single day.

She’d heard of the Soulmate Theory at a very young age. Her parents had explained how those were the first words she’d hear from the love of her life. She would spend hours daydreaming all sorts of scenarios in which someone would say those words to her and they’d fall in love.

After her parent’s death, that stopped being her priority. At the Hydra base she’d only see her brother and a couple dozen different Hydra soldiers, too old and mean for a soulmate. 

Gaining powers was a game changer. She was older then. Stronger. They finally allowed her and Pietro to leave the base and create chaos in Hydra’s name. “Do good” in Hydra’s name. She believed she was doing the right thing. She truly did. 

Hearing her first ‘Don’t do this’ made her question everything. It came from a little kid nonetheless. A scared little kid. It must’ve been a mistake, she thought at the time. But that mistake happened, again, and again, and again… 

When she joined the Avengers her eyes were opened to all the pain and terror she had caused. All the people she hurt. Then it dawned on her, what if one of those ‘Don’t do this’ came from her soulmate? What if she had hurt them, or worse, killed them?

The idea terrified her. So she hid those words on her wrist. A reminder of the evil she’s done and the love she’ll never have. She promised herself to never look for her soulmate, she already caused them enough pain, they didn’t deserve to get tangled in the mess that was her life.

And then Vision was created. Him and Wanda got along greatly. He made her happy. They fell in love, or at least that’s what Wanda told herself, that she fell in love with him. It was possible, there’s no rule on the Soulmate Theory that says you can only fall in love with your soulmate. Plus, Vision is not human, so he doesn’t have words written on his wrist, he doesn’t have a predestined soulmate, technically he doesn’t even have an actual soul for this sort of thing. They could be each other’s soulmate. A loophole on this stupid theory.

Why didn’t it feel like that though? Why was she questioning it so much? And why now? Three days before her wedding?

She took off the bracelets and stared at the ink, brushing her fingers lightly over it. She loved Vision, she affirmed to herself. She wants to marry him. This is what she wants. And she believes in these words, for a while. Long enough for her to fall asleep, turning off her brain from overthinking the situation too much.

Work has had you occupied all week. With back to back meetings and loads of paperwork to fill out, you’ve barely had time to think of anything else.

But now it seems like everything is done and you have more free time than you’d like. 

You left the office early, not having much to do there anymore, and, instead of spending all afternoon home alone, you decided to go out for some coffee.

You were sitting on your usual table in the small coffee shop close to your place. It was calm, quiet and homely, a nice contrast between the places you frequent. The warm cup on your hands did nothing to distract you though.

The book you’d brought was long forgotten on the table as you glanced at your phone every few seconds. It’s two days till the wedding and, even though you tried not to think about it, you hoped your sister would text you saying she broke it off. It was unlikely, but wishing she could get some sense knocked into her wouldn’t kill.

You were so focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice a woman glancing at you until you caught her trying to call your attention.

“It’s you!” She said, astonished, pointing to the cover of a magazine showing a picture of you.

Recognizing that issue as being a rather old one, you just nodded and offered the woman a friendly smile. She took that as an opportunity to approach you.

“Hi. Sorry,” she sounded excited and also nervous for bothering you, “I just wanted to say what an inspiration you are to women all around, to me especially. I’ve been opening my own business and seeing what you do has been such an encouragement to me. So, thank you!” 

You were surprised by how nice she was. You’d expected her to ask you to invest in her business or something, like everyone who approaches you does, but she didn’t and it was a nice change of pace for once.

“What kind of business are you opening?” You asked. Listen to her talk would be a good distraction, plus, you could use the company.

“Oh, no, that’s ok,” she said, “I don’t want to bother you any further.”

“Please,” you urged, “I have the rest of my day off and I could use someone to talk to. Unless you’re busy, then I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you.” You laughed to ease the woman’s nerves.

“Sure?” You nodded and gestured to the empty seat across from you. 

She accepted it and you spent at least an hour talking before she had to leave. It was a pleasant conversation, she praised your work but didn’t refrain from giving some interesting criticism on your business. The topic of an investment or a partnership never even came up. 

It got your sister out of your mind for a while, although it didn’t last long.

Laying on your bed, your eyes fought to stay open, your mind swirling with all possible scenarios regarding Oli. She would be miserable if she went through with this, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You love your sister, you care so much about her, but she refuses to listen to your warnings. You could swallow your pride and go to the wedding. You could try and support her. But that would just make an accomplice to her stupidity and you’re not going to just stand there and pretend that that’s ok.

You thought about texting her, way too many times. But your relationship is already rocky as it is, the least you could do is hope she gets some clarity on her own.

One day till the wedding. She’s 24 hours away from the happiest day of her life. Why is it, then, that Wanda doesn’t feel as happy as she should be. 

She didn’t have to fake a smile, she was happy, but that smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

None of the others seemed to notice it. They just thought it was the nervousness of having everything set so the day could run smoothly. Vision even brought up the possibility of her having cold feet about it, but she denied it thoroughly, assuring him she wanted this.

And she does. She wants to get married, have kids and build up a family of her own. She wants it all. 

It still seemed weird though. Like something was off. 

“Steve just called,” Nat interrupted her thoughts, walking back into the room, “everything is set, prepped and organized for tomorrow.”

“Let’s try on the dress then.” Carol urged the girl to put on the piece of clothing for the millionth time.

It did her justice. Slim at the top and flowy at the bottom, accentuating all her curves perfectly. It wasn’t big and puffy but light and delicate. She smiled at her own reflection as the other women crammed around her to take a look.

“You look beautiful.” Pepper said in awe. 

“She does, doesn’t she.” Laura agreed, even though she’s the one that helped her choose it.

Wanda didn’t say anything, just smiling and appreciating her own image, excitement growing on her chest from wearing it in front of everyone the next day.

The girls spent hours planning how they would do her hair and makeup. There were so many ideas, disagreements and arguments that Wanda was completely drained by the end of the day. She was happy though, to see her friends being there for her, eager to help and make sure everything was perfect.

It was nice to have people around since she lost so much throughout the years.

After the women were gone and she found herself alone, Wanda’s thoughts from the beginning of the day came back, hitting her like a train.

Was she really more excited about wearing a dress than about getting married? Was this a sign of her actually getting cold feet? 

She shrugged them away, affirming to herself these are just stupid uncertanties people always get before their wedding day. At least that’s what happens in movies, so nothing to worry about... right?

Thankfully your work slump had subsided as now a gigantic pile of papers sat on your table. Some contracts had to be restructured and a set of stores had to be chosen to distribute your newest technology. 

You thrived in that scenario, with countless reports and 2D drawings of the prototypes scattered about the room. Your mind was going a thousand miles a minute, seemingly unaware of the events that would take place later that day.

That peace, however, was short lived. Your brain short circuited for a second when you checked what had caused your phone to buzz.

Two voicemails. 

From none other than Isaac. 

It was right then that it dawned on you: Oli was marrying that asshole today. In only a couple of hours actually.

Before listening to the messages you started to record your phone screen, maybe he would try to threaten you or something and you could use that to convince Oli to break things off with him. It wouldn’t kill to be precautious.

The first one was sweet, although it almost made you gag, it was sent with good intentions. Isaac was asking you to go easy on Oli, regardless of your feelings towards him, you should be supportive of her and her decisions. Too pretentious for your liking, but sent with good intentions nonetheless.

The second one started awfully weird. Some muffled sounds, things you couldn’t quite make out. Until you heard a loud moan, your eyes going wide as you pushed your phone away from your face. Isn’t it technically ‘bad luck’ to see the bride on the wedding day? You didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts as the voice on the phone started to moan each other’s names. The woman didn’t sound anything like Oli, because it wasn’t Oli. Isaac was cheating on your sister? And on their wedding day!?

Oh you weren’t about to just let that go. You stopped the recording, thanking your intuition, and quickly ringed Oli.

It rang once… twice… three times… and then voicemail. You tried at least four more times until you figured she just didn’t want to talk to you.

“Marie can you come in here please?” You called your secretary.

A few seconds later she popped her head inside your office.

“How can I help?”

“Can I use your phone!?” You sounded more exasperated than you wished.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to call your sister today?” Damn, that woman knows you too well. You sighed loudly.

“Please… I just…” You trailed off, sounding desperate this time around.

Thankfully Marie gave in and lent you her phone. You typed Oli’s number and rang it, several times, she didn’t pick up once. You were starting to get truly desperate now.

“Do you have the address?” You handed Marie her phone back.

“Here.” She handed you a piece of paper from her pocket. 

It was on the other side of the city, at least a one hour drive. You quickly grabbed your coat, purse and phone, rushing out of the office, only being stopped by a hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” You gave her a reassuring smile and a quick nod before making your way to your car. Marie has been working with you since the beginning, she always knew when you were up to nothing good. She also knew that when you set your mind to something, there was no stopping you.

The drive was excruciating. You kept making stupid mistakes and taking wrong turns. Everything seemed to work against you, being it: accidents, red lights, slow drivers, pedestrians. Even the birds chirping around were pissing you off.

You finally reached the venue and stopped the car messily in the front entrance. You quickly ran up the stairs, and almost tripped and fell when you heard the officiant was already performing the ceremony.

You reached the doors and yanked them open, hopefully interrupting the wedding before it was too late.

“Don’t do this!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, nearly breathless. 

The guests all turned towards you, surprised. So did the couple on the podium.

Except those people weren’t Oli and Isaac. You recognized them, Vision and Scarlet Witch, or at least that’s the names they went for on television. You’ve seen them before, doing business with Stark had its perks, but had never been introduced.

You could’ve felt bad, but your stomach was a turmoil of faith and nausea. You were either really early or really late to stop Oli.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “wrong wedding, carry on.” You turned around to leave, but not before noticing the bride glancing at her own wrist.

You didn’t get the chance to take a single step out the door before her voice filled the silence that had settled.

“It’s you.” You stopped dead on your tracks. Your wrist burning slightly, not the kind of pain to cause discomfort, just enough to be noticeable.

Those words. 

Her looking at her wrist.

Your’s burning now.

You turned back around, earning all kinds of confused glances from the guests. Your eyes fell on the woman, a smirk plastered on your lips.

“Seems like this isn’t the wrong wedding after all.”

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Ten. Faces

warnings: swearing, hate comments word count: 4.1k (not including pics)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: sorry its late!!!! this feels rushed but i was just too excited to get to some parts!!! also i have had some parts written out for SO long that they dont even feel cute to me anymore so im literally praying to every deity rn that you guys think its cute lmao anyway enjoy!!!!

**********

It had been about a week since Karl's slip up but everything was already more normal than Y/n had expected it to be. Of course, George, Sapnap and Quackity were all very understanding and gave her space while simultaneously reassuring her that she was safe with them. She fully believed it too, she knew she was safe with them and they weren't going to tell anyone her name.

The one unusual thing was now she had a heavy guilt, like someone dropped another sandbag in her stomach, every time Dream texted her. If the others knew, it was only fair that she tell him her name too, right? I mean, it's Dream. Dream! The boy who had quickly slipped his way into her life and, though she wouldn't admit it to Karl or Naomi, her heart.

But how? Does she just come right out and say it or wait until it gets brought up? She hadn't practiced telling anyone her name because she wasn't planning on doing it any time soon. Though, maybe she should have been seeing as she was going to see them all in person in a little over a month.

Regardless of the guilt, Y/n had other things to worry about today; Quackity was coming to visit. Karl had picked him up from the airport and the two of them spent all day catching up and doing who knows what but Y/n still hadn't met him. She was scared. She wasn't scared of Quackity, but scared because it was the first time one of her online friends would be able to put a face to her name and voice.

Y/n shuffled across her living room rug and reached for her phone on the coffee table, looking for some sort of distraction while she waited for them to arrive.

-

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head as she threw her phone on the couch. Okay, he's right. It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be great. It's just Quackity. If he said anything rude or annoying or anything she could literally just step on him like a bug.

A sharp knock on the front door of her apartment snapped her back into reality. She shook her limbs of nervousness as she made her way to the door, two familiar voices begging to be acknowledged from the other side.

"Let us iiinnn!! Y/nnn!!!!" Karl whined.

After countless times asking the same question, she finally convinced Karl that she was okay with him using her real name in front of Quackity. He clearly still felt guilty about telling the boys her name, asking her multiple times in different ways whether he should call her Y/n or Bugsy in front of the guest. She finally got it through his head that she didn't mind either way.

"Hold on!" she yelled back. She unlocked the door and swung it open to see Karl and Quackity. "So impatient."

"Holy shit, you are tall! Goddammit, I thought that was a joke!"

Y/n laughed shyly at the greeting, looking at Quackity like he was crazy. "Hello to you too. Tried to warn you, dude."

"Yeah but, damn! You're tall and attractive, what the hell?"

"Dude," she said with a warning in her voice. She thought the flirting on Twitter was funny, but in real life she got embarrassed easier and wasn't a fan. "I'm about to kick you out of my house before I even let you in."

This was weird, meeting Quackity before meeting some of her other friends. She loved Quackity, but she had known George much longer and Sapnap even before that. There was no problem with meeting Quackity, she just had no idea how to act since she felt like she hardly knew him.

"Am I allowed to tell people that you're hot?" he asked as he fell on her couch, Karl following right after.

"Quackity!" Y/n yelled, her face heating up at a compliment. "Seriously?"

Karl cackled and shoved Quackity. "Shut up, Alex! No, you're not allowed!"

"Sorry, is that compliment reserved for Dream?" He cackled at his own joke and Y/n's face heated up even more.

"I seriously will kick you out of my house."

"You wanna be flirty on main but not in real life?" Quackity scoffed.

"I'm not flirty on main, you are!" she laughed. "Seriously, don't."

"Okay, sorry, I'll stop," Quackity promised with a laugh in his words.

The three of them fell into easy conversation, mostly because Karl and Quackity were already comfortable around each other at this point. They eventually decided to go to the mall, just to mess around and do something.

*reminder: covid doesn't exist in this fic bc we only want happy things so ignore their masks :P*

Y/n frowned as she unlocked her front door, staring at her phone. She had been so happy with all the fans freaking out about the meetup so she looked at the trending list, expecting to see a flood of keyboard smashes and happiness, but that's not all she ended up seeing. BUGKARLITY was trending, so she scrolled through the tweets and was upset to see not all of them were positive. In fact, when she typed her name in the search bar, lots of the tweets using her name were rather mean.

A few that stuck in her head called her an attention whore and said that her friends only flirted with her because she paid them too. Who on earth would even do that? Some hurt way more than others but she tried to push them aside. It wasn't like this was the first time she had seen comments like this, but they had only gotten worse since her Minecraft date with Dream. She was worried it was cause more hate for her friends and the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of their own hate.

She typed several different messages to Dream, deleting them all after she reread them. She felt like she had to request the same thing from him in a different way. Maybe because she felt like his words meant more, even if he really was just joking like the rest of them. She decided to call him instead of texting.

"Hi!" he chirped happily from the other end.

"Hi, Dream," she said as her chest filled with something warm at the sound of his voice. "How are you doing?"

"Good," he dragged out the word. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Just okay? What's up?"

"Um," she started, immediately forgetting the words she decided she'd use. "I just... would you mind, uh, not flirting with me so much on, like, Twitter and streams and stuff like that?"

There was a silence before Dream's frantically apologetic words came through. "Yes, of course, oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. If I had known I was making you uncomfortable, I wouldn't have—"

"Wait, no," she interrupted but he must not have heard.

"—said things like... oh gosh. Bug, I'm really sorry—"

"Dream!" she raised her voice, getting him to stop ranting. "You don't make me uncomfortable."

"Oh. Really?"

"Of course not. I actually think it's really..." Cute? Adorable? Endearing? "funny," she decided.

"Oh. Then why...?"

She sighed heavily and explained what she told the others. "So, yeah. I just don't want you guys getting hate because of me so I figure if you stop then... you know."

"Bug..." he said gently. "I'm really sorry. I promise you that I don't—none of us think those things about you."

"I know."

"No, seriously," he said, clearly not believing her. "You need to understand that I..." he paused. "I mean what I say. Always."

Always? she thought. There's a few things he's said that certainly he didn't really mean... like calling her cute?

"I don't joke around like that unless I want to. I wouldn't say things like I say to you unless I really, really, genuinely considered you a close friend and felt comfortable around you. And I do."

Her heart swelled. "Thanks, Dream. I just... maybe don't do it so much for right now? Online, at least," she clarified, not wanting to deprive herself completely of Dream's flirting.

"Yeah, if that's what you want, of course."

"Well, I don't want you to stop flirting with me but, yeah."

He chuckled. "Oh, you do like when I flirt with you?"

She hummed and changed the subject. "Did I interrupt you doing anything?"

"No," his teasing voice dropped and was back to his regular self. "I'm just editing the video we filmed the other day."

"Oh, the 'Minecraft, but you can't touch the floor'?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh," she said, not meaning to sound disappointed. "I'll let you get back to it—"

"No. I mean, you can stay on the phone. Unless you're busy."

She smiled and put her phone on speaker and set it next to her foot on the floor. "I was just gonna paint. So I can stay."

Before she knew it, almost two hours had passed of them sitting in comfortable silence, occasionally speaking to share something with the other before going back to their tasks. It was comforting knowing she didn’t need to speak constantly and could just hang out with Dream.

Y/n's phone rested on the floor next to her, Dream on speakerphone on the other end, only the sounds of his keyboard clicking letting her know he hadn't fallen asleep or hung up. She wasn't sure when they started doing this, staying on the phone even when they had nothing to talk about, but they had done it a few times before. They had talked on the phone and Discord many times but it was usually always with purpose, not usually this silently-enjoying-each-others-presence nonsense. Who was she kidding calling it nonsense, she enjoyed it an embarrassingly insane amount.

She repositioned so she was laying on her stomach as she finished sketching an image that was in her mind.

"Hey, you still there?" Dream asked softly.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I taking away from your sitting in silence time with George?" she joked.

Dream chuckled lightly. "Nah, you're more fun. I was just seeing if you ditched me for Karl yet."

"Nah, you're more fun," she mimed truthfully. "But I'm very focused on this drawing."

"Can I see it when you're done?"

"Don't expect too much. It looks bad."

"If you don't tell me what it is, I can't know how accurate or inaccurate it is."

"Very true..." she trailed off, holding the canvas further away to examine it all at once. She wanted the sketch to be perfect before she made permanent choices with paint. She enjoyed the serenity they maintained even when talking, voices low and delicate like they were keeping secrets but not quite whispering. "Are you almost done editing your video from the other day?"

"Sorta. I'm at the part where you and Sapnap almost died laughing because a ghast knocked George into lava and then Sapnap laughed so hard he fell into lava."

She chuckled, remembering the situation vividly. "That was so funny. The way George screams is so funny."

"Let Naomi know that," he mumbled, causing Y/n to gasp.

"Dream!" she laughed loudly and he joined.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's true though."

"Disgusting!"

A distant voice sounded on the other end and she assumed it was Sapnap. "What do you want for dinner?"

Dream responded with a soft, "Nothing, I'm good."

"Are you talking to Bugsy?"

He must have responded physically because the next sound was Sapnap's very clear, much more lively voice speaking directly into the phone. "Hi, Bugsy!"

"Hi, Sapnap!"

"Can you tell Dream to eat some damn food? This man literally hasn't eaten a single thing all goddamn day."

"Dream," Y/n scolded slowly. "Please eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I'm not showing you my painting until you eat."

A door closed on the other end and she took that as a sign that Sapnap had left.

"I don't wanna see it anyway. It's probably trash."

"Take that back!" she gasped lightly. She looked at the canvas as she grabbed the first paint color and laughed. It was only a sketch and it was already trash. "Fine, then I won't go on the trip if you don't eat in the next ten minutes."

"That's punishing yourself too though."

"Who says I want to see you?" she asked.

"I never said anything about not seeing me being the punishment."

She had been caught. "It was implied."

"Sure it was."

"It's true though. Who says I wanna see your stupid face?"

He didn't say anything, but an incoming FaceTime call lit up Y/n's phone. A FaceTime call from him.

Her smile dropped. "Clay?"

"Answer it," his voice was lower and her heart started beating faster. Was he really about to show her his face to prove a point? Reveal his biggest secret that only a few close friends knew? To her of all people? She made sure she couldn't be seen in the small window and pressed accept, the voice call ending and the FaceTime call starting.

To her surprise, what came into view wasn't his face, but the logo of the hoodie he was wearing, the simple smile of his merch taunting her. She laughed, the anxiety slowly fading away as it was replaced with a heavy feeling in her stomach. Was she disappointed? Maybe a little, but he teased her into believing she would see him.

"Oh, wow! Dream face reveal! He looks just like his icon, no way!!!"

His chest moved up and down as he laughed, not moving the camera away. "You heard it here first, guys! You've known my face all along, the logo is actually my face!"

She laughed and returned to painting, not paying any more attention to her phone since he was now also showing his ceiling, a small corner of his monitor in frame but nothing else. "I mean it though, if you don't eat, I'm going to be so mad I won't even want to be friends anymore. Or you'll die from malnourishment before we get the chance to meet."

"I doubt it. I'm just not hungry."

"Whatever."

"Oh, hey, so you met Quackity today. How was it?"

"Very scary."

"Yeah?" he asked sympathetically, urging her to explain if she wanted.

"Yeah. But it turned out okay! He didn't act any different so it was fine. It was mostly just awkward. He's also so freaking loud. You would not believe how much louder he and Karl get when they're together."

"I can imagine. Aren't they doing a stream right now or something?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't wanna watch though, I've had enough of them for the month."

Dream laughed. "How will you deal with them together for New Years'? It'll be for like two weeks."

"Who knows if I'll actually go?"

"Wait, what?" he asked abruptly, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. His keyboard stopped clicking and she could picture him staring at his phone as if looking at her. "Of course you're going."

"Not if you don't eat food! You have, like, 3 minutes to eat something until I officially am busy doing other things whenever the trip is."

Dream groaned and clicked a few things on his computer before the image on the screen became blurry as he walked through the house, still pointing it at the ceiling. She looked away again and kept painting.

"Quackity's really funny though," she continued. "It was super awkward at first but it was fun to have someone else to help me make fun of Karl."

"Wait, Bug," Dream called out over the sound of wrappers crinkling.

"Hm?" She hummed, continuing to paint.

"Bug," his voice was much softer and he sounded nervous.

She looked at her screen and dropped the paintbrush as she focused on what she saw, grabbing her phone and holding it closer to her face so she could see, still making sure she wasn't in view. All the anxiety from the beginning of the FaceTime suddenly came back and hit her like a truck. Sitting on her screen, waiting to be seen, was Dream. His hood was up, tufts of blonde hair sticking out, and he was standing with his back towards a dark room, the dim light from his pantry making his face just visible.

He held up a cookie in front of his actual, real face. "Are you watching?"

"Y-yea... I... Yeah. I'm watching. Is that really you?"

He nodded once before shoving the cookie in his mouth. "There, I consumed food," he announced, his voice muffled by the cookie. "Now you're legally obligated to come."

"I—What? CLAY! WHAT?"

"What?" he asked innocently as he chewed, walking back to his room and still holding the phone up to show his face. His room light was on, making his face much more visible. If Y/n thought he was attractive in the harsh pantry light, he must have looked like a god in his room lighting, even as pixelated as he was due to the quality of FaceTime. He fell on his bed and Y/n could only gape at his features. He slumped against his headboard, surrounded by roughly a thousand pillows, sporting a small, shy smile as he stared at the screen. "Bug, what?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Needless to say, he was unbelievably handsome. Part of the speechlessness was from the shock that he showed his face out of the blue, but obviously, the majority of it was that he was pretty much the most attractive person she'd ever seen. It should be illegal for someone to look that good in a hoodie, especially when pixelated.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Wanna take back what you said earlier?" He bit into another cookie.

"W-what did I say earlier?" Why was she stuttering???

"You said you don't wanna see me and that I'm ugly," he teased.

She paused for too many seconds too long before finally muttering, "you arrogant son of a bitch." He laughed loudly at that.

His eyes crinkled and he threw his head back. So that's what he looks like when he wheezes, she thought to herself, pretty.

Dream shuffled his position on his bed and rested his head on one of his hands. He looked so comfy. "Why are you so quiet, weirdo?" he mumbled.

She set her phone back down and touched her cheeks with her hands and looked away for a moment, grounding herself to the real world for a second. She couldn't process her thoughts when she was staring at a man as gorgeous as Clay. "I don't know, maybe because you gave me no warning before showing me your face? Or because you failed to mention that you're incredibly hot?"

She was so glad she had looked back at her phone or else she would have missed the glorious sight of his cheeks turning bright red before he turned the camera back to his ceiling. "Oh my gosh."

"Aw cute, I made you blush."

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You threatened to not come if I didn't eat something!"

"You didn't have to—you showed me your freaking face just to prove you ate a cookie!! DREAM! I would have believed you if you just said you ate something!" she laughed breathlessly, staring at the phone now for a chance to see him again. "I was joking anyway!"

"Sure you were."

"I was."

"Well, oh well. You deserved to see me anyway."

"Oh, I deserve to see you?" She laughed. "How big is your ego?"

"You know what I meant," he groaned. "You got doxxed by Karl and you met Quackity in person. And you've clearly had a bad day because of all the hate and stuff. You've done a lot of stressful things recently and you deserved to be let in on a secret too."

He was so sweet. Like, tooth-rotting, Halloween candy stash hidden under a kid's bed, upset tummy sweet. She also couldn't get over the fact that he was a million times cuter when he was shy like he was being now, his voice soft and unsure. It contrasted vastly with the confident, loud-mouthed Dream everyone usually saw, though she liked that Dream too. She wished he could show his face for just one more second to see what he looked like shy. Probably sickeningly adorable.

This was it, wasn't it? The chance she had been waiting for to tell him her name? He just let her in on his biggest secret, now he was the one deserving to be let in.

"Y/n," she said with a confident, but soft voice.

There was a long pause. "W-what?"

"Y/n."

He understood the second time immediately. "Y/n..." he tested, the smile in his voice clear as day. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, I guess you deserved to know the secret too."

"I would have been content never knowing."

"Really?" She didn't believe him. He seemed like the type to never be satisfied, always looking for something better. Not in a greedy way, but in a motivational, goal-oriented big achiever way.

"Really," he hummed. "I already feel like you're too good to be true so I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't a real person."

It was silent as she tried to collect her thoughts.

"Bug? You okay?"

"Yeah, I... it's just a lot."

"Sorry."

"No, it's not you. Well... I don't know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to say when you say things like that," she admitted.

He paused. "I think you always have the perfect responses when I say things like that."

"What do I usually say?" She smiled shyly, pulling her hoodie up to her lips.

"You usually call me a nerd or say you can't stand me. 'Oh my gosh I cannot stand you'," he mimicked before laughing.

"What? How is that the perfect response to you saying you can't believe I'm real?"

He hummed and she could practically hear him shrugging. "Because it's a classic Bug response. It's a hundred perfect you. So yeah, it's perfect."

She was silent, trying to compose herself before she exploded.

"By the way, check Twitter."

"Why, are you bragging about me calling you hot?" she teased, hoping to make him blush like she had earlier. It worked.

"Oh my gosh, no. Just look."

She clicked her home button and navigated to the app, her feed instantly flooding with the same similar messages.

"Oh, my gosh," she muttered, her fingers flying away as she typed out her own tweet in response to the love.

Dream chuckled from the other end and when she asked him why, he vaguely said that George texted him but didn't explain further.

"Um, I have to go," she said mournfully. "Karl and Quackity are coming over again."

"Booooo," he pouted.

"Sorry, you aren't the only man in my life," she teased before instantly regretting her choice of words. Too flirty, Y/n, she thought to herself.

"Hm, shame. Am I at least at the top of the list?"

She bit her lips, wanting desperately to repeat what she had told him on their Minecraft date. In the end, she gave in. "I always mean what I say too," she started. "You're my main bitch, baby."

Dream made some sort of sound, a mix of a scoff and a whine but Y/n didn't comment on it, just glowing with heat in her cheeks.

"Leave before I don't let you," he said softly and the heat only grew.

"Goodnight, Dream," she pressed, the tone in her voice letting him know he was being a tease. "Thanks for... thanks for your tweet. And for everything you said earlier."

"Of course. Sorry that you have to see those kinds of things a lot."

"It's okay when I have people like you."

"People like me? What does that mean?"

"Just.... people like you." Cute, sweet, kind, genuine people who make her heart flutter.

She could hear his smile in his words and she figured he knew the unspoken words in her thoughts, the ones she was saying without saying. "Okay. Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight."

**********

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[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 5

Pt 1,  Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, House Map

Summary: Movie theater, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and the county fair

“We can come back to get the rest. I don’t understand why you’re doing that.”

Wanda watches you struggle trying to carry everything you brought from the store but two bags that Wanda herself is carrying. 

“Because, my young Padawanda, it is one of the most important rules of the Jedi Code. One must never make a second trip to the car lest he be a nerd.”

“Oh my gosh! Have you seen Star Wars?” You and Wanda turn your heads towards the porch where Sam and Peter reside. Peter runs down to you in excitement. “Which ones have you seen?”

“Only like all of them!” you answer, just as excited as Peter to have someone else here who likes the movies. Laura finds them boring, Clint thinks they’re too long, and Nat says she’s not a child. You tried watching them with Cooper and Lila but they fell asleep halfway through. So no one can blame you for getting excited. Unfortunately, the little bounce that accompanied your answer causes a few things to slip from your arms, but Peter, given his incredible reflexes, catches them all before they touch the ground. “The force is strong with this one,” you tell him.

“And a second trip is what makes you a nerd.” Sam mumbles under his breath on his way over to help by taking the bags from Wanda. “What’s on your neck?” He asks her. Her hand flies up to her neck only to find it sticky.

“It’s what happens when you mess with a Jedi,” you answer for her in a silly voice making Peter laugh. You also make Wanda blush as she recalls how it happened, but you don’t see this since you and Peter are already making your way to the house. Sam, however, does notice Wanda’s face and recognizes that look, leaving him stumped. Wanda only snaps out of her trance when the door closes behind you and Peter. 

“I don’t get it,” he says to Wanda. “What is it about her? Is it the confidently flirty but still kind of geeky thing that does it for you ladies?”

Wanda, embarrassed at being caught, heads to the house ignoring Sam’s questions. She can still hear him as he yells after, “Don’t walk away! I need to know if nerds are the thing now!”

Sam catches her in the kitchen along with you and Peter putting things you bought where they’re meant. Instead of asking Wanda anything, he turns his questions to you and Peter, who you all find out has a girlfriend now. Sam guesses his “nerds are in” theory correct based on that and soon he is agreeing to watch Star Wars with you, Peter, and Wanda. He threw Wanda a subtle wink when neither you nor Peter were looking as if to say ‘you’re welcome’ for including her in those plans. Clint, coming in from the side door, catches the ending of that conversation and groans. 

“No! Laura! Peter and Y/N found an interest they can both be annoying about,” he goes to complain to his wife. Later though, he as well as everyone else joins you to watch the movie. You and Peter thoroughly answer all of Sam and Pietro’s questions and hush everyone at your favorite parts, mouthing the lines along with the scene. Wanda ends up not watching the movie anymore but watching you and she begins to wonder if maybe Sam was right.

***

“How much longer?” you find yourself asking the next morning trying not to sound as out of breath as you are. You’ve been jogging for you don’t know how long now but it feels way longer than what Nat had promised it would be when she woke you up at six in the morning.

“Another mile,” she answers, no sign of struggle in her voice as if this is a cakewalk. You suppose it is for her since she’s had to slow down numerous times for you to catch up.

“Another mile?!”

“Hey, you said you would keep up today,” Nat reminds you.

“You know you can’t trust anything I say during my haven’t-had-caffeine-yet hours. Don’t I get points for trying?”

“Like your little green friend says, ‘Do or do not, there is no try’,” Nat retorts.

“I knew you were paying attention last night!” You increase your pace to jog beside her. “You can act too tough to like Star Wars all you want around everyone else, but I’ll always know the truth.” You can see her shake her head from the corner of your eye. You don’t say anything for a moment, but being one who cannot let the quiet linger too long, as Tanya would attest to, you speak up. “So, how’s your little green friend doing?”

You turn your head for a second to show Nat you were genuinely looking for an answer and in the next she’s practically running away from you. She went fast but not quick enough for you to miss the little redness creeping up on her cheeks. You have never in your years of knowing her seen her blush before. You have seen her sweat after a sparring match with Clint, get a bit of a sunburn, and get so angry she looked like she would pop a vein, but not one of those times were her cheeks turning a rosy color. Aww, Romanov’s in love. Once you’ve come to that conclusion, you go to tease her. Wait, where did she go?

“You asshole!” You yell at Nat who you finally find casually leaning on the car door watching you storm up to her. It took you an hour to find the car after losing the trail you were on trying to find Natasha. She doesn’t even flinch as she reaches over and pulls a twig out of your hair. “What happened to you?”

“You left me!” You huffed, walking around to the passenger side while Nat got in the driver seat unfazed. Truth be told, after 30 minutes without any sign of Nat, you thought she was putting you through some kind of test. You were getting paranoid, so it’s not surprising you took a tumble when you swiftly tried to avoid an attack from what turned out to be a squirrel running up a tree. But you’ll just keep that to yourself forever.

You head straight to the shower when you get to the house ignoring the morning greetings from those you pass on the way. “What’s up with her?” Sam asks Nat in the living room. “She hasn’t had her caffeine yet.”

You let the shower wash away your moodiness which, you can admit to yourself alone, stemmed for the most part from embarrassing yourself. Afterwards, you head to the kitchen ready to eat whatever everyone had for breakfast, but come up empty. You guess they’d finished all of it if the plates and pan left out to dry say anything. You open the fridge looking for something to eat. Maybe there is something in there you can heat up. Unlike Laura, Wanda, and self proclaimed chef Pietro, you cannot cook to save your life. 

“What’s cooking, good looking?” Speak of the devil. Maybe he can make you something? You know all it would take is some batting of the eyelashes and a compliment. No, Wanda said no. But there is nothing in the fridge to heat up and you were hungry. Wanda would surely understand it was for the greater good, right? Already breaking the first rule, I see.

Caught red handed, you look over Pietro’s shoulder to see Wanda walking into the kitchen to join you two. She’s raising her eyebrows at you waiting for an answer. 

“Okay, new rule,” you say. Pietro is confused at what he assumes is your response until he sees that you aren’t talking to him. “No more reading my mind,” you say sternly, pointing at Wanda. 

Pietro smirks. “Yeah, I don’t need you to hear what goes on Y/N’s mind when she is thinking about me,” he says to Wanda. Both you and Wanda roll your eyes. “Sam is asking for you outside,” is all she says to him and off he goes with a groan.You groan as well, the chance of getting someone to make you food leaving with him.

“You could have just asked me, you know?” Wanda says, leaning against the sink. 

“I thought I said no mind reading,” you remind her. She chuckles when you close the refrigerator door and hit your head against it in defeat.

“I wasn’t,” she defends. “I was serious when I said he can’t cook. I may have saved you from food poisoning.”

“Maybe, but I would have been full and happy for a moment. Since you chased away my shot at food, I think you should make it up to me by making me some breakfast,” you try, leaning against the fridge.

“Oh? I should, should I?” You nod confidently thinking it might just work, but she tears that thought away when she continues, “Cause I remember you still needing to make it up to me when you didn’t buy the ice creams.”

You frown, “I thought you’d forgotten about that.” She smiles, with nose scrunch and all, shaking her head. “Fine, you want to go to the fair? I’ll take you to the fair tomorrow!”

“A fair? I want to go!” you hear Cooper shout. He is coming in through the back door with Lila who looks just as excited and with Nat who does not. You ignore Nat’s face when you tell Cooper that you can all go to the fair. He and Lila run off in excitement to tell the others. Nat glares at you as she takes a seat at the kitchen table. 

“See,” you turn to Wanda. “Now I have to take you for sure. Make me some food now, please,” you beg her, drawing out the word please. She squints her eyes like she’s thinking about it and then, “Only because you asked so nicely.” 

“Thank you,” you throw her a huge smile at which Wanda rolls her eyes.

“But if you are going to be here,” she says pushing you away from the fridge, “you are going to help. You’ve got to learn how to cook for yourself.” And you do just that. You nod along intently listening to all her instructions, not wanting to miss a thing. Sometimes you’d interrupt to make a joke and when one is about her brother, she playfully punches you. You are so immersed in your little bubble, you forget Nat is not too far away watching your interaction with curiosity. She has you try the food first and you could almost moan. You notice a blush creeping up on Wanda’s face and suddenly she’s avoiding your eyes.The food is so good and you were so hungry that maybe you did let out a little noise of satisfaction. Before you could say anything, another voice interrupts, “What’s this I hear about a fair?”

You turn slowly recognizing the tone your cousin uses. It’s the who-made-these-plans-without-asking-me-first tone. You smile at Laura, mouth full of food. You see Nat point at you but Laura was already looking at you. “Yeah, I think she knows it was me, Natasha.”

***

A few uneventful hours go by and you are bored out of your mind. You have a sudden urge to go out seeing as the sun was still shining. You pull out your phone having an idea of what to do to kill some time. You scroll through your phone to see what movies are playing at the only movie theater in town. You see that the next showing is for a horror movie. 

“Do you like scary movies?” you turn to the group playing Uno in the living room. Pietro gets up in excitement when you mention going to the movie theater. Sam agrees to come as well and drags Peter out the door when Peter wants to stay claiming it’s to keep the kids company. You are about to head out with everyone but you notice Wanda still sitting on the couch. You wait for her to get up when Pietro says, “Yeah, good luck with that. She’s too chicken to watch scary movies.”

Wanda, offended, gets up quickly from the couch, “Am not. I just think they’re boring.”

“Sure,” Pietro chuckles as he heads out the door.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” you tell her. You think she is going to stay, but she starts heading out the door to the car. 

“You sure that’s not enough butter, Y/N?” Peter asks you when he sees how much butter he’s already put in the bucket at your insistence. He can feel some of it through the bucket already. 

“Fine, that’s good. You grab some napkins. I’ll hold the bucket,” you tell him after you see his eyebrows scrunch. You all go to the designated room and pick a row to sit in having pretty much any seat you want since it was practically empty. You sit down next to Peter and notice Pietro’s eyes falling to the empty seat on your other side. He aims to sit next to you but his sister who was sitting next to Peter before beats him to it. He throws her a confused look as he shuffles his way down to sit in her abandoned seat. “Real subtle there, Wanda,” you say, amused more than anything.

“I can see the screen better from here.” You let her bad excuse slide and turn to the screen as the movie begins to play. Between you, Peter, and Pietro, the popcorn is gone in record time. The jumpscares begin halfway through the movie. Peter holds the empty bucket as a safety blanket which you find adorable. You don’t even know if Wanda is watching the movie. She’s got her eyes somewhat hidden behind her fingers. You want to tease her, so you reach to take her fingers away from her face, but another jumpscare happens and she takes your hand in her free one. You feel her squeeze the life out of your hand in anticipation of another jumpscare. 

Your palm begins to sweat and you start to feel uncomfortable with all the butter on your fingers, so you slip your hand out from hers. She turns to you in question. “Sorry, my hand’s full of butter,” you whisper. She reaches over you to ask Peter something. Without a word, she leans back in her seat with napkins in her hand and cleans all the butter off your hand before taking it in hers once more, this time interlacing your fingers. She turns her focus back to the movie. You feel you should just do the same, so you follow her actions. You let her hold your hand for the rest of the movie until the lights come back up.

Wanda shouldn’t have watched that movie. It is much too dark in the bedroom. It is much too quiet. She can hear Nat’s soft breathing from beside her. The silhouettes of various items around the room are creeping her out. She doesn’t think she is going to be sleeping any time soon. Maybe some tea will help. She gets up quietly trying not to wake Nat, but when she’s at the door, Nat asks, “Where are you going?”

“The bathroom,” Wanda lies easily. She’d rather not let Nat know that she couldn’t sleep because of some scary movie. What kind of superhero would that make her? As she heads downstairs, she wonders if you were still awake. She turns down the hallway to peek into the living room and sure enough you were still awake watching television. She walks over to you behind the couch. “What are you watching?” she asks. You feel your soul leave your body not having heard her approach. She giggles as she walks around to sit next to you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just warn a girl next time.” She turns her attention to the show. “It’s Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. It’s really good. I used to watch it with Laura when she would babysit while my mom was at work. Some of the jokes I wouldn’t even understand but I’d laugh ‘cause she was laughing,” you reminisce. 

“You and her are very close.”

“Yeah, well, she’s practically the only family I have. My mom passed not so long ago and seeing as there was never a dad in my family picture, my aunt and uncle took me in. I don’t have any siblings and neither does Laura so, she’s kind of it.” You add, “Well, apart from Clint, Nat, and the kids of course.”

Another two scenes go by on the show before you ask, “Did you have a nightmare or could you not fall asleep?”

Wanda looks down embarrassed so you add, “I promise I’m not teasing. I’m just asking.”

“I couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet and dark and Natasha was already asleep, so I thought I would come down here,” she replies.

“Oh, so you thought I would definitely put you to sleep. Wow, I don’t see how this friendship is going to work if you think I bore you to sleep,” you tease. Upon seeing her tired smile, you take pity and pat your thighs and gesture for her to lie down. “Come here.”

When she lays her head on your lap, you begin running your fingers through her hair. You hear her yawn and a few minutes later you find her sound asleep. Careful not to wake her, you reach over to the blanket you were meant to use on you and throw it over her body instead. Another two episodes play before you fall asleep.

***

You wake up once again with a sore neck and you feel that your body might be as well, but when you remember the reason, you don’t find it in yourself to complain. You look around prepared to see Nat in gym clothes holding a coffee cup but you find the living room empty apart from you and Wanda. You look out the window and see the sun is barely about to rise. Surprised to have woken up before anyone else, you decide to make the most of it but you are quickly sidetracked getting distracted by Wanda’s sleeping form. “I can feel you staring,” she says, her voice husky which you try hard not to find attractive. She turns her head to look up at you with sleepy eyes. “Friends don’t do that.”

“I was not staring. I was admiring,” you respond. “And friends can admire their friends.”

“Well mine don’t the way you do.” 

“Ain’t that a shame.” You boop her nose with your finger making her scrunch her nose.

“They do, however, let me sleep,” she jokes. She turns her head back as if she was to go back to sleep and you decide this might be the best time to get up. You gently lift her head from your lap and swivel your body off the couch. “Where are you going?” she whines, when you place a pillow under her head.

“I am going to wake Nat up for once in my life,” you reply with determination. You stretch and shake your legs trying to get the feeling back in them.

“Good luck with that,” is the last thing Wanda says before closing her eyes and going back to sleep. You head to the kitchen to start the coffee pot and then make your way upstairs. Luckily, the door was left open so you don’t make any noise on your way in. You tiptoed your way to Natasha and bent down so your face was eye level to hers. You honestly can’t believe you’ve made it this far since she is the lightest sleeper. This is the spy they chose for the Avengers? You giggle to yourself imagining the face Nat is going to make when you scare her. Oh, if they could see her now…they would be satisfied with their choice, you think as you try to choke out, “Uncle. Uncle.” Nat somehow has you in a choke hold and you are tapping furiously on her arm. Once she realizes it’s you she lets go.

“Y/N, what the hell! I could have hurt you!” she yells at you as you’re coughing. You stare at her unbelievably, rubbing at your neck, and once you can speak again you say, “Then what was this to you? Some light foreplay?”

Once you both settle down, she realizes you were up before her. You take some exercise attire out for yourself from your luggage. You might not like to exercise but gym clothes are sure comfy to lie around in. “You gotta keep up, Natasha. You don’t want the boss man to catch you slacking. Oh, I’m also making coffee so don’t worry about that.”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing. You smile in turn. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ll catch you downstairs.”

You leave her to change and head downstairs with your clothes. You go to the kitchen first and make two cups of coffee. Then you go to the restroom to change. After she finishes changing, Nat goes to the kitchen and sees you were not kidding. Natasha takes her cup of coffee to the living room as she always does and finds Wanda asleep on the couch. She sighs as things start adding up. She guesses this is the reason for the lack of a grumpy attitude from you so early in the morning. She wants to say something but Nat would rather take a motivated Y/N over Y/N complaining every five minutes on their hike. So, she doesn’t say anything for now.

You actually keep up with Nat this time and to top it off you don’t talk too much like you always do. Nat thinks it’s because you're in a good mood giving you motivation, but the reason for keeping her pace and keeping quiet is your fear she’ll leave you again if you say something to set her off and lose her like yesterday. Nat even goes as far as giving you a compliment at the end. Well, semi-compliment, but her “Not too bad, Y/N”s are few and far between so you return to the house feeling proud of yourself.

This time you’re the one saying good morning to everyone when you enter. You see a few of them still eating breakfast in the kitchen. You hope there will still be leftovers by the time you come back down after showering. Knowing how some of the guys eat, it is going to have to be a quick shower. Laura sees you eyeing the food and says, “Don’t worry, we saved you a plate.” And here you thought Wanda was the mind reader. “Wanda told us you were grumpy yesterday from not catching breakfast so we made sure to make more.” That explains it. You smile, happy someone kept you in mind. Now you can shower in peace. You thank her and head upstairs.

“You saw that, right?” Laura turns to Clint and Nat who walked in not too long before you left.

“She’s been like that all morning. Not one ‘Are we done yet?’ or ‘Why do you hate me, Natasha?’ on our hike,” Nat replies in a hushed tone as if it’s so unlike you to be agreeable in the morning. 

“Do you think it has anything to do with a certain somebody?” Laura felt the need to ask.

“Well she didn’t just find a love for exercise,” Nat sarcastically says.

Clint sighs, “Do you think we have to talk to her again?” 

Nat goes to respond, but Laura cuts off whatever Nat was going to say, “No, if anyone is going to talk to her, it’s me. And it’s not going to be some crappy ‘no dating’ rule type of conversation. You two are great when it comes to getting someone to talk with your intimidation, but save that for your job, which speaking of, Wanda is your coworker, so you may want to talk to her as well if you had to talk to Y/N because last I remember it takes two to tango.”

Nat and Clint stare at Laura in shock, embarrassment and guilt rightfully taking over their bodies. “Are we clear?” Laura asks them though it’s more of a statement leaving no room for argument. 

“Yes.” “Yeah.”

Upstairs, you make your way to the guest room to grab some clothes. Wanda is sitting on the bed reading her book. She is still dressed in her pyjamas, which makes you smile. The sound of her turning the page shakes you from your thoughts and saves you from staring a bit too long. Wanda smirks without bothering to look away from her book and you know she caught you.

“Morning, I’m just gonna get some clothes,” you explain as you move to where your bag is. Wanda speaks up while you zip your duffle closed, “I’m sorry for bothering you last night.”

“Come on, Wanda. You could never be a bother,” you say sincerely, giving her a smile that she shyly returns. “Alright, the shower is calling my name.”

“Yeah, I can hear it screaming,” she jokes and laughs when you take mock offense, “Hey!” She goes back to reading when she sees you heading out the door but you call her attention once more, “Oh! Thanks for telling them to save me a plate.”

“Of course,” she replies like it wasn’t even worth mentioning. You nod at her and then go to shower, closing the guest room door behind you.

A few seconds later, the door opens up again and Wanda amusedly says, her eyes never straying from the page she’s reading, “Did the shower call the wrong name?”

“No, it was definitely calling Y/N’s and mine too, I’m sure, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Wanda’s head diverts to the door at Nat’s voice. 

“And you needed back up for it?” Wanda looks over to Clint who awkwardly stands behind Nat.

Clint clears his throat, “Well it was only fair if Y/N got both of us, you did too.”

Wanda straightens her posture as she places her book beside her. “Ah, so this is about Y/N. I had a feeling.”

Nat and Clint come into the room, Clint closing the door behind him. Nat goes to sit on the end of the bed and Clint stands behind her. “Look, we were wrong to tell Y/N what to do or rather not do. She is an adult and has the right to do whatever she wants, but you have to understand she’s someone who tends to get ahead of herself and we didn’t- we don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Nat starts.

“So you’re saying she is getting ahead of herself with me? That what? Come two weeks, she’ll realize she doesn’t want me?” Wanda starts to get visibly upset.

“No, that’s not what-” Clint tries to speak but Wanda is not done talking. “Even if that was the case, it would be her choice. It would be my choice.”

“Wanda, you are not going to be here in two weeks. You are not going to be here in a few days,” Natasha calmly says trying to reason. “Look, we love Y/N, okay? But she often finds herself making mistakes-”

“So I would just be another mistake? 

“No, you would be a dangerous one,” Nat says trying to get something through to Wanda.

“I would never hurt her.”

“No, maybe not intentionally,” Nat continues, and when Wanda looks like she is going to argue, Clint interrupts, “Wanda, just let her finish.” Wanda takes a breath to calm herself down and then nods for Natasha to carry on.

“Being in our lives more than she has to could get her hurt. Even this morning, I hurt her when she was probably just trying to play some stupid prank. Being around us is dangerous. Why do you think Clint kept all this a secret,” Nat motions around the room. “Why do you think I was so upset about her and Yelena? Why do you think we haven’t said anything to Y/N before? Those other girls aren’t you. Those other girls aren’t Yelena. I don’t even know where she is right now. We live different lives. Say things do work out with Y/N. Much like I don’t know where my sister is, there will be times she won’t have a clue where you are or if you’re okay. When Clint and I say we don’t want anyone to get hurt, it goes both ways.”

“Wan, have you seen my blue shirt with the buttons?” Pietro storms into the room like a man on a mission, not even bothering to acknowledge Nat and Clint are in the room as well. “I know I packed it.” Not until he reads the hurt in Wanda’s eyes does he read the room and like the protective sibling he is, he is quick to get defensive. “What’s happening here?”

Her brother’s interruption could not have come at a better time. Wanda didn’t know how to respond to Nat’s explanation. She was feeling herself choke up, Vision’s voice springing in her head again. She’s happy to have Pietro here so willing to jump in to defend her but she doesn’t want to drag him into it, so she clears her throat and says, “Nothing. We were just talking.” He still looks unsure, so she gets up from the bed and offers, “I’ll help you look for it.” Her eyes plead for him to let it go. Luckily, he does and heads out the door.  Clint and Nat watch Pietro leave and Wanda stop by the door. “You don’t have to worry. Y/N made it clear to me that we’re just friends,” she says in defeat, then turns to follow her brother.

“Well, that went well,” Clint says sarcastically. 

Wanda spends the next two hours helping Sam, Peter, and Pietro get ready. She helps Sam pick an outfit first seeing as he was the first to shower. She has to pry one of Peter’s t-shirts from his hands saying he’s twice Peter’s size and he cannot pull the nerdy look. She helps Peter next. It’s mostly just styling his hair he needs help with. At last she helps her brother after having knocked on the bathroom door four different times telling him to hurry up. 

“How does the one with superspeed take an hour in the shower?” Sam asks rhetorically. Sam, Wanda, and Peter are on the bed in Cooper’s room watching Pietro straighten out his shirt.

“Hey, it takes time to look this good,” Pietro says as he fixes his collar. All three of them nearly roll their eyes. “Do you think Y/N will like this shirt?”

“Yeah, if it was on Wanda, maybe,” Sam snorts. Peter holds back a chuckle while Wanda tries not to react. 

“You look nice,” Wanda says, not wanting to tear down her brother’s confidence. Everyone’s attention is drawn to the closed door when someone knocks. They hear you ask if you can come in. Pietro responds, “One second.” He goes to lean against Cooper’s desk casually and all three on the bed try really hard not to laugh. Peter has to shove his face in a pillow. “Okay, come in.”

You let yourself into the room, your eyes falling on Wanda immediately. “Not that you don’t look nice in them, but do you really plan on wearing your pjs to the fair?” you tease her. “I mean, you’ll for sure be turning heads, if that’s the plan.” 

She replies, “I was waiting on the shower. Someone was taking their time.” She points her head in Pietro’s direction who gives you a nod in acknowledgement and a “‘sup?” Sam’s mouth forms a line trying so hard not to laugh out loud. Peter’s face stays hidden behind the pillow but you can see from the side of his neck his face was getting red. You feel like you walked in at the wrong time given everyone’s behavior. You tell Wanda, “You might want to hurry. Clint says we’re leaving soon.” With that you turn to leave wondering what you had walked in on. 

When you shut the door, everyone in Cooper’s room excluding Pietro bursts out laughing.

“What the hell was that, man?” Sam asks between fits of laughter.

Peter gets up and leans against the desk to mimic Pietro, “‘Sup?” Everyone laughs again, Pietro leaning over to slap Peter in the back of the head.

***

They take the family car and Nat’s car to the fair. Sam and Peter ride with Nat while the rest of you ride with Clint driving. As you wait in line to buy tickets, you lean over Wanda’s shoulder, who is standing right in front of you with her back to you, and say “I meant to say this earlier but you look nice.”

She smiles and then turns around to face you as you take a step back. She jokes, “I thought I looked good in my pyjamas but someone implied it wasn’t appropriate for the fair.”

“Oh definitely not appropriate. It was way too sexy. We couldn’t have that around the children,” you reply making her giggle.

“You don’t look too bad either,” she returns the earlier compliment, taking in your outfit as you shuffle forward with the rest of the line. “Your outfit is very nice.”

“Oh, this. I just threw it together.” No, you didn’t. You took your time with it. “But thanks,” you wave her off. When you reach the ticket stand, you rush in front of Clint to pay for yours, Wanda’s, Laura’s, Nat’s, and the kids’ tickets. You explain to him when you are all walking together that you kind of owed Wanda for something and you were the one who promised to take the kids here much to Nat and Laura’s displeasure so you kind of owed them too. 

You make it inside the fairgrounds. A giant banner that reads “WESTVIEW COUNTY FAIR!” greets you overhead. Everyone gets excited upon seeing the banner and all the lights in the background. Well, everyone but Nat and Laura, Nat not ever a big fan of fairs and Laura not a fan of taking care of kids at a fair. Out of all the lights shining on the fairgrounds, your favorite is the one shining through Wanda’s eyes as she takes everything in with wonder. 

“So what do you want to do first?” you ask her.

She turns to you and almost looks embarrassed. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to a fair.”

“What?” you ask in shock. She shrugs not knowing what else she could say. “Well, it’s settled then. We are not leaving until you get the whole experience. Let’s go buy some wristbands for the rides. We are going on every single one.” Her eyes widen and the wonder in them from earlier shifts into nervousness. “It’ll be fun, come on,” you reassure as you drag her to another line, leaving everyone else behind. 

You and Wanda get on every ride but the ferris wheel telling her you have to leave that one for last. You even ride some twice, but you get hungry and ask Wanda if she wants to eat yet. She agrees that she could take a break for food. You try various things the fair offers wanting Wanda to try everything. “You Americans like to fry anything you can,” she comments as she takes another bite of her fried oreo. She hums as she finishes it off. “I understand why,” she says, making you laugh. 

You spot Laura and Nat sitting at a table near the stage where some band is playing music. You and Wanda head on over. Soon everyone regroups there, finishing off the food they bought and watching people dance. Clint pulls Laura to dance with him. You all sit at the table watching them with a smile when someone obstructs your view of them. You look up to see a tall guy in a black cowboy hat smiling down at Wanda beside you offering his hand out asking her to dance. She looks at you, unsure of what to say. You give her a smile that admittedly took you a second to form and nod encouragingly for her to accept. She smiles politely at him and takes his hand. You watch them dance, your eyes only ever straying when you see Wanda going to look at you. You watch when he leans down to tell her something in her ear and she laughs. You wonder what he told her that was so funny. Your eyes roam over him. He’s handsome, you’ll give him that. He has a nice face, good posture. You note he is also respectful with his hand placement when dancing, so you can appreciate that. It seems like Westview County has their own Steve Rodgers. The thought bugs you.

Someone blocks your view once again, only this time you are kind of thankful for it. You look up to see Pietro asking you to dance. “Why not?” you say, wanting to do anything rather than stare at Wanda dancing with some guy. He pulls you to the dance floor. You enjoy your time dancing with Pietro though you get dizzy from how quickly he spins you. You’re a little disappointed your dance is cut short when Lila taps your arm asking if she can dance with Pietro. You smile at her saying of course she can. With your distraction gone to dance with Lila, your eyes search for Wanda once more but you cannot seem to find her. You feel someone grab your hand and you are spun into that someone’s arms. Your eyes fall to familiar green ones and you smile, “Smooth moves, Maximoff.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile as she starts to sway with you to the music. “You let me dance with a stranger.”

“You’re dancing with me now and we were strangers not so long ago,” you rebuttal. 

“But at least we know each other’s names.”

“Did you not get his name?” you ask.

“I never asked for it,” Wanda returns simply, shrugging. You find it hard to believe that his name never came up so you say, “That was a lot of talking for him to not have given you a name.”

“You saw us talking? I would not have guessed you were paying attention. Every time I looked at you, you turned to look away,” she teases you.

You swallow, choking on the embarrassment of getting caught. “Doesn’t matter. His name’s probably Brad or something. He looks like a Brad.”

She laughs then catching on to your tone she asks, “Y/N, are you jealous?” 

“What? Me, jealous?” you ask, astonished. She nods, smiling like she has her answer. “Wanda, I could never be jealous of some Brad. Dance with a Marcus and then maybe, but a Brad? Pfft. No.”

She just laughs and pulls you closer. You let yourself go and dance with her until whatever song the band is playing ends. “Let’s go play some games. I feel like shooting something,” you say, making her laugh loudly. 

Everyone decides to play with you as well so you all head over to the different stands. Nat wins the shooting game, Clint coming in close. He wins the popping the balloons with darts game. They give their prizes to Cooper and Lila. Peter and Sam spend some time with the hammer and bell game; Peter hitting the bell every time garners some attention especially from some girls which frustrates Sam. Pietro wins a fish when he plays ring toss. It seems like everyone but you has been winning something. Even Wanda won a stuffed panda she gave to Lila after playing a water shooting game. You were getting frustrated trying to knock some blocks off a stool. You’ve spent a good $20 on this game already. Wanda catching your frustration decides to help you out. When you are down to your last ball, you try your best to focus and throw the ball. Two of the three blocks fall down. The last one is teetering on the edge. You think you’ve lost but a second later it falls over. You shout with glee. You ask the attendant for the keychain that has the letter W on it.

Wanda watches you with a smile as you approach her. “Thank you for that,” you say, and when she tries to play naive, you continue, “I know you knocked the last block.”

She gives you a sheepish smile. You hold out the keychain to her. “I figure this only rightfully belongs to you. May it proudly hold your keys until you lose it.” She tries to say no but you take her wrist and place the keychain in the palm of her hand. “It has your initial. You have to keep it.”

“I’m pretty sure the W is for Westview County,” she counters.

“A happy coincidence.” You don’t take no for an answer and she finally smiles and thanks you, putting her new keychain away so she doesn’t lose it. You look around to see the others still distracted with the games but you also catch your cousin yawn. You know this means you’re leaving soon so you grab Wanda’s hand and head over to the line for the ferris wheel.

You thank the attendant when he checks you have your belt on and pulls the bar to your lap. The wheel starts turning and when you are midway to the top, it shakes a little as two people get on the final empty cart. The shaking makes Wanda nervous. She grabs your hand almost protectively as her posture turns into one that looks ready for a fight. You turn your palm over to interlace your fingers and rub your thumb on her hand to try to soothe her nerves. “Hey, it’s okay,” you say. She turns to you and you see her irises are red. “They always do this. We’re okay. Just don’t rock the cart and we’ll be good.”

She takes a breath willing herself to relax. The red in her irises fade back to her green. She sits back and the ferris wheel moves again, this time not stopping for people to get on. You keep holding her hand squeezing it from time to time in reassurance. You can see Clint and everyone from the ferris wheel and point them out to Wanda. The only ones to see you are the kids who wave to you. You wave back. 

“Do you come to the fair every year?” Wanda asks.

“Pretty much. There’s not much else to do,” you shrug. She ponders this for a moment and then, “So you’ve brought dates to the fair before, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah?” You say more like a question wondering where she was going with this.

“In the movies, people on dates always kiss on the ferris wheel. Did you kiss them?”

“Wanda,” you say her name but it comes out more like a warning.

“Sorry, I was just wondering,” she mutters, then turns to look back at the fairgrounds. 

“No, I didn’t.” You answer sincerely. She looks back at you. You explain, “The two other people I’ve taken to the fair on a date were too afraid to get on the ferris wheel.”

“You said ‘other’,” she says smiling at you.

You look at her confused. “What?”

“You said ‘the two other people’ meaning other than me. So is this date?” she raises an eyebrow, an amused expression on her face.

“A friendly date,” you say, making her frown. She huffs in defeat letting go of your hand and hold the lap bar instead. The night had been going so well, you didn’t want this one thing to ruin it, so without letting yourself think it over, you wait until you get to the top of the ferris wheel. You lean into her space and look her in the eye to show her you are serious when you say, “Don’t tell Nat or Clint.” She looks confused but the confusion quickly turns into a pleasant surprise when you gently grab her face and lean in to kiss her. It doesn’t last long enough to give her a chance to kiss you back. You pull back with a cheeky smile and say, “I did promise the whole experience.” 

The kiss may have ended too quickly for Wanda but it was long enough for a few people to catch it. One of them being your cousin whose kids were pointing to you and Wanda on the ferris wheel in excitement. She just shook her head in amusement when she saw you kiss Wanda. The other person to catch you was Wanda’s brother who, when seeing you kiss his sister, just whines, “No, Y/N.”

______________________________________________________________________

I'm sorry this took so long. I got sidetracked and then when I started I got stuck and in my true fashion, once I started writing, I couldn't stop and I couldn’t leave you without taking you to the fair. So, I hope the length of the chapter makes up for the wait. Oh, Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's out there doing their best to be good moms! I created a house map of how I picture the inside to look, you know without the fine details.

Next chapter bring your bug spray, you’re going camping.

Taglist: @madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovepoem @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission 

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Photoshoot Fantasies - Fred Weasley

Title: Photoshoot Fantasies Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!!! Dom!Fred, daddy kink, spanking, masturbation (male and female) oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, choking, begging, dirty talk Summary: Fred doesn’t like it when his girlfriend gets naughty without his permission A/N: this is….pure filth. For the anon who wanted some smut with dom!fred. this is literally like 3% plot and 97% smut lmao so I hope you enjoy!! Requests are open and feedback is always welcomed!!

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“Oi, lover boy! You’ve got a letter from your girlfriend,” George calls teasingly from the kitchen.

Fred groans as he rolls over in bed, his hands coming up to rub the last bits of sleep from his eyes. He squints as he opens his eyes, due to the bright streaks of sunlight coming in from the break in his curtains. Fred takes a moment to mentally prepare himself for the day before he heaves himself out of bed, and shuffles into the kitchen.

“Good morning dear brother of mine,” George greets far too cheerily for the early hour.

Fred grunts in response and takes a seat across from George, waving his wand so a cup of coffee lands in front of him. He usually isn’t one to need caffeine in the morning, his own natural energy is usually enough to clear the sleep induced fog from his head, but he’s been having trouble sleeping lately since Y/N hasn’t been by his side.

After graduation, Y/N landed her dream job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. Fred had been so proud of her, and he loved how excited she was each night as she told him about her day over dinner. Unfortunately, her job had one huge drawback: traveling. Every so often Y/N would travel to different parts of the UK and Europe to get updates on the population of certain magical creatures or to help develop and implement conservation plans. A week ago, she left for her longest trip yet, an entire month, and Fred hasn’t been able to sleep well since.

“Where’s this letter then?” Fred asks after he has a few sips of coffee. He can feel the caffeine working its’ magic, and his brain is finally clear enough to string a sentence together.

George rolls his eyes and tosses a thick envelope at Fred. “You two are sickening, you know that? I think she wrote you a bloody novel about how much she loves you and misses you,” George says, pretending to throw up.

Fred flips George off, trying to contain the blush forming on his face. “Don’t act like you didn’t stand in the doorway for 15 minutes last night kissing Angelina goodbye, git.” Fred can feel George’s eyes on him as he fiddles with the envelope. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he bites.

“Someone is feeling feisty,” George retorts with a laugh. “Come on then, open the damn letter. Let’s see how long it takes her to start waxing poetically about your eyes.”

Fred glares at George as his fingers quickly rip open the envelope. Normally he would wait for George to go and busy himself with something else or he’d retreat to his room so he could bask in Y/N’s words by himself, but it’s been far too long since he’s seen her and Fred thinks he might explode if he waits any longer to read her letter. “Oh,” he says softly in surprise, when he only pulls out one piece of parchment. The envelope hadn’t been bulky from the lovely letter she wrote him, but the half a dozen photographs she had included. His eyes scan over the short note, a small smile appearing on his face.

To my dearest Freddie Eddie Spaghetti,

Things are going well up in Scotland, Niffler birth rates are through the roof thanks to the plan we implemented last year. We’ve spent the last few days prepping a large cohort of them to send off to Egypt to assist the rune breakers Gringotts has out there. I’ll be off to France in a day or so to check up on some of the Thestrals we brought to a conservatory outside of Nice a few months ago, hopefully they’ve acclimated well.

I’ve been missing you like crazy, Freddie. You’re all I seem to think about these days, it’s been quite hard to focus on my work. I don’t know how I’m going to manage going three more weeks without seeing your face or being held in your arms. You better rest up, because you won’t be getting any sleep for days once I’m finally back home with you.

I’ve included a few photos that will hopefully keep you company while I’m still away.

Love you lots and lots and lots, Y/N

“That’s it? One stinky piece of parchment?” George asks, clearly annoyed. “There’s my day, ruined. Thought I’d get a nice laugh at least since you’ve been so miserable. What else is in the envelope then?”

Fred’s eyes are still scanning the letter, trying to commit the words to memory and he absentmindedly grabs the stack of photos to show George. “She sent photos,” he responds, finally putting the letter to the side. “Probably of all the baby Nifflers,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Let me see, then,” George says excitedly, reaching his hand out. “Remember when she sent those photos of the baby dragons dressed up in onesies? That was jokes. Bet she put hats on them this time.”

As Fred goes to hand George the stack of photos he gets a glimpse of the one on top. His eyes widen and he quickly pulls his arm back, cradling the photos against his chest. “Nope, sorry. You can’t see them.”

“What? Why not?” George watches as Fred starts to fidget in his seat and a red flush starts to take over his face. “Oh my god!” he says suddenly with a laugh, realization hitting him. “She sent you nudes! What a little minx. You two are far more disgusting than I ever could have imagined.”

Fred clears his throat, choosing to ignore George. “Well I’m going to go back to my room and uh, respond to this letter. See you later.” Fred tries to act as normal as possible as he heads back to his room, desperately trying to ignore George’s cackling. He breathes a sigh of relief as he shuts his door behind him, leaning on it for a moment.

Fred rids himself of his T-shirt and climbs back onto his bed in nothing but his boxers. This isn’t how he planned on spending his morning, but Fred is more than happy to change his plans. He sits up in bed, his back pressed up against his cold wall and his legs splayed out. While Fred would consider himself adventurous in the bedroom, this is the first time Y/N has ever done anything like this, and he can feel himself getting aroused already.

“Merlin,��� he groans as he allows himself to look at the first photo. Y/N is laying in the middle of a bed wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and the matching pair of panties, a set Fred is all too familiar with.  Her whole face isn’t visible, just her mouth, and as the photo moves her tongue comes out to lick her bottom lip and her hand lightly trails down her torso to her thigh.

He balances the stack of photos on his lap for a moment, his right hand pushing his boxers down to his thighs. Fred had planned on drawing out the experience, but he’s already rock hard from the first photo. He throws the first photo on the bed beside him as he wraps his hand around himself, and he picks the stack back up.

Fred starts to slowly stroke himself as his eyes rake over the next photograph, his mouth running dry. Y/N is laying in the same position as before, but the bra she was wearing in the first photo has been discarded, and as the photo moves her hands massage her breasts and she bites her lip.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, as he moves onto the next photo. Y/N is now completely naked, and as the photo moves one of her hands trails down her front from her breast to her core while her other hand pinches and toys with one of her nipples.

Fred starts to stroke himself faster and is unable to contain the grunts that fall from his mouth as he moves to the next photo. His thumb rubs the sensitive tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that has started to accumulate, helping his hand glide easier as he strokes. In the next photo, Y/N’s mouth is open, and Fred is sure a breathy moan is leaving her lips, as the movement of the photo shows Y/N starting to slowly rub her clit as her other hand fists in the sheets underneath her.

“Oh, fucking shit,” Fred groans as he looks at the second to last photo, his hand stilling on his cock to stop himself from finishing just yet. Y/N’s feet are now flat against the bed, her knees bent and open wide. As the photo moves Fred can clearly see Y/N sink two fingers into herself as her thumb rubs at her clit. Her other hand tugs at the sheets and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s on the brink of her release.

Fred starts to stroke himself again as he reveals the last photo, his orgasm quickly approaching. Y/N’s entire body is flushed red and as the photo moves her back arches, her toes curl, and her whole body trembles as she reaches her orgasm.

Fred’s thumb teases the sensitive head of his cock as his eyes wander over all of the photos. He focuses on the last one, and as Y/N once again reaches her climax Fred does as well. His head tips back and he lets out a low moan as he releases all over his stomach, his cock twitching in his hand. Fred continues to lightly stroke himself as he comes down from his high, his breath coming out in hard pants.

When he gets to be too sensitive he releases himself, letting his cock lay against his stomach. He reaches for his wand so he can clean himself off with a simple spell. But an even better idea pops into his head.

“Accio, camera,” he casts, watching as the top drawer of their dresser opens and his camera starts to fly over to him. He grips the camera and points it at himself, so his body from his torso to the tops of his thighs are in shot. Fred makes sure that his limp cock and the come on his stomach is the center of the photo, and once he’s pleased with the shot he clicks the shutter button.

Fred places the camera on his bed as the photo prints and develops, grabbing his wand and cleaning himself off with a spell. He pulls his boxers back up and gets out of bed, rummaging around for some parchment and a quill. Once he finds what he needs he writes out a quick letter to Y/N.

To my dearest Y/N,

I’m glad to hear everything is going well with work. I’m so proud of you and the things you do. Things at the shop are going well, the new range of whiz-bangs sold out in just a few days. I’m missing you like mad, I can’t wait for you to get home.

Those photos you sent me were very naughty. How dare you pleasure yourself like that without Daddy’s permission. I think Daddy’s going to have to punish you when he finally gets his hands on you. 10 spanks sounds fair, doesn’t it princess? I think you deserve it, after the mess you caused Daddy to make all over himself.

Love you lots and lots and lots and lots, Freddie Eddie Spaghetti

Fred grabs the now developed photo from his bed as he reads over the letter, a satisfied smile on his face. He folds up the letter and tucks it into an envelope along with the photo before he seals it and addresses it to Y/N. As he goes to leave his room he spots a piece of folded up parchment on his floor and he grabs it, opening it up as he heads towards the window in the kitchen.

I’m going to Angelina’s. Use a silencing charm next time you perv.

Fred laughs at George’s note as he sends their owl away with his letter, already thinking about taking advantage of his brother’s absence.

-

“Someone is in a good mood this morning,” George muses as Fred saunters down into the shop just before opening.

Fred adjusts his tie as he joins his brother at the till, a huge smile on his face. Just like last week, a letter had arrived from Y/N this morning with another filthy set of photos. This time she was in a lingerie set that Fred didn’t recognize, and she brought herself to her climax using one of the toys Fred had purchased for her as a Valentine’s Day present earlier in the year. Fred had just enough time to bring himself to his own orgasm and write her back before he had to get dressed and head down to work.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Fred asks as he unlocks the door and turns the open sign on with a wave of his wand. “The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. It’s a beautiful day, Georgie.”

George looks Fred over before he scrunches his face up in disgust. “Y/N sent you another letter today didn’t she?” When Fred sends George a wink he gags. “Bloody disgusting. I hope you washed your hands.”

“And why would Fred need to be washing his hands?” Verity asks as she comes back from the storeroom with some more love potions to be stocked.

Fred’s face flushes red as George start to laugh. “No reason in particular,” he stutters out. Fred turns to George and glares at him. “You’re such an arse.” Fred moves to hit George upside the head, but he ducks his brother’s advance and heads over to help the two customers that have just walked in the door.

“You lot don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” Verity says as she chuckles and shakes her head.

-

Fred sighs to himself as he sits up in bed, his eyes scanning over some of his notes. He and George are in the early days of developing some new products, and he’s working out some of the initial bugs before they start production next week. At least that’s what he’s supposed to be doing, but his mind is definitely elsewhere. Y/N’s third letter had arrived a few days ago, and he can’t help but let his mind wander to the new photoset sitting in his bedside drawer. It seems that his threats of punishment have fallen on deaf ears, because the photos Y/N has sent have been dirtier each time, and he can’t help but imagine what will be waiting for him in the envelope when her final letter arrives in a few days.

“What do you want?” Fred asks dully when there’s a knock at his door, not bothering to look up at George.

“That’s an awfully rude way to greet your girlfriend after you haven’t seen her for nearly a month,” Y/N says, the smile evident in her voice.

Fred’s head snaps up immediately, a smile taking over his face. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He immediately climbs off the bed and heads over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Y/N drops her bag on the ground and wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, pulling him down so she can kiss him sweetly. “We finished everything up a few days early. Figured I’d come home and surprise you.”

Fred presses their lips together again hotly, his hands moving down to Y/N’s thighs. He lifts her up, his hands gripping her tightly and moves her over to the bed. “God I missed you,” he murmurs into their kiss, before he tosses her onto the bed.

“Couldn’t have missed me too much, not with all the photos I sent you,” Y/N giggles as she lays back on the bed.

Fred’s eyes darken and he can’t help but let out a groan as he thinks about those pictures. He can feel himself start to get aroused, and he grabs his wand, waving it so that his door slams shut, and locks and a silencing charm falls around his room.

“Such a naughty girl you were, Y/N. Taking those photos without Daddy’s permission,” he scolds, his voice low and rough.

Y/N squirms on the bed, looking up at Fred as innocent as possible. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to make you feel good while I was gone,” she explains sweetly. “And clearly it worked, that photo you sent me made me so wet, Daddy.”

Fred bites his lip as he watches her squirm on the bed, taking pride in the fact that he can see a blush forming on her cheeks. “Oh, you made Daddy feel very good, princess. But you were still being a little brat. And you know what happens to brats? Don’t you?”

Y/N can feel herself getting wet as arousal starts to build in her stomach. She’s been waiting for this moment since Fred mentioned spanking her in his first letter. “They get punished,” she responds airily, fists clenching to keep from touching herself.

“That’s right princess, they get punished.” Fred pauses, letting his eyes roam up and down Y/N’s body. “Daddy think 30 swats is good, 15 on each cheek. Don’t you think, princess?” Fred smirks when Y/N lets out a whine as she nods wildly. “What should I use, hm? My hand? Or should I get the paddle?”

“Your hand, please,” Y/N begs. As much as she loves the paddle, she craves the feeling of Fred’s hand on her ass.

Fred smirks down at her. “Normally brats don’t get what they want. But you asked so nicely, princess.” Fred tears his gaze away from Y/N and takes seat on the end of their bed. “Get naked for Daddy and come stand in front of me.”

Y/N immediately gets off of the bed and rids herself of all of her clothing. Normally when they play this game she loves to drag it out and tease Fred endlessly. But she’s been on the edge for nearly 4 weeks and Fred has already been preparing to punish her, and she doesn’t want to find out what he’ll do if she’s even more naughty now that they’re finally back together. Y/N comes to stand in front of Fred, feeling shy under his intense gaze.

“God you are so gorgeous, princess,” Fred compliments, his hand reaching out to lightly grip her hip. He rubs circles into the bare skin, reassuring her. “Come on then. Get in Daddy’s lap.” Fred helps Y/N get situated across his lap, laying on her front. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, letting his hand run down her back, over her bum and to her thigh. “Do you have anything to say to Daddy? Before he gives you your punishment,” he drawls, his hand pushing in between her legs to rub at her wet folds.

Y/N gasps at his touch, her eyes falling closed. “I’m sorry for being a naughty girl, Daddy,” she moans out as Fred rubs her clit ever so slightly.

“Thank you princess,” he says softly, removing his hand from her core. He places it on her bum instead, lightly massaging one of her cheeks. “Daddy’s not mad at you, princess. But you still have to be punished, do you understand?” When Y/N nods he smiles. “Good girl. I want you to count for me, okay?”

“Yes Daddy,” Y/N responds, getting comfortable in Fred’s lap. A squeak leaves her mouth as Fred lands the first slap to her ass. “One,” she counts breathily. Before she has a chance to recover from the first hit, Fred is landing another hit to her cheek causing her to moan. “Two.”

Fred smirks down at the writhing mess Y/N has turned into after her first 15 spanks. Her right bum cheek is bright red, and Fred resists his urge to lean down to kiss it. “Are you doing alright, Princess? Can you take 15 more?” Fred asks quietly, reaching up to stroke Y/N’s hair. As much as he loves being rough with her, he never wants to hurt her or make her uncomfortable in any way. He’s rock hard in his trousers already, and he wants to make sure she’s getting as much pleasure from this as he is.

“Yes, Daddy. Need more. ‘M a naughty girl, I need to be punished,” she responds desperately. Y/N is soaking wet and her stomach is a pool of arousal. A few tears have snuck out of her eyes from how turned on she is, and she’s basking in the warmth left behind on her bum from Fred’s hand.

“Good girl,” Fred praises, leaning down to press a few kisses to Y/N’s shoulder. “You can use your safe word at any time, you know that right?” When Y/N nods he presses another kiss to her shoulder and starts to massage the bum cheek he hasn’t hit yet. “Count for me again, princess, okay?”

Y/N nods, letting out a moan a Fred lands the first hit to her cheek. “One,” she whines, lifting her hips up to encourage him to spank her again. Fred suddenly lands three hits in a row, causing a few more tears to leak out of her eyes as she moans. “Two, three, four,” she stutters out.

By the time Fred lands the last hit to her ass, Y/N is desperate for release. She’s slowly moving her hips forward, desperate for any kind of friction against her clit. “Daddy please,” she begs.

“Look at my desperate little baby,” he coos, moving Y/N’s hair out of her face so he can see the desperation on it. “Such a good girl you were, princess. Such a good girl for Daddy. C’mere let me kiss you.”

Fred helps Y/N straddle his waist and tucks a few stray hairs behind her ear. He kisses her deeply, his tongue immediately licking into her mouth. Y/N moans into the kiss, rolling her hips against the rough fabric of Fred’s trousers. Fred groans at the contact on his clothed cock, his hips rolling up to meet hers. “God, so fucking desperate for it aren’t you, princess?” he asks as his lips start to trail kisses down her neck.

Y/N nods, tipping her head back to give Fred more room to kiss. “Need you so bad, Daddy. Missed your cock. That’s what I was thinkin’ about in all those photos. Thinkin’ about how much I love your cock and how good it feels inside of me.”

Fred groans into Y/N’s neck and pulls away so he can look at her. “That’s so fucking hot, princess. Imagining you lying in bed, touching yourself and thinking of me.” Fred kisses Y/N again. “Go on and show Daddy how you touch yourself, princess. Get in bed and pleasure yourself for me.”

Y/N crawls off of Fred’s lap and onto the bed, settling down in the middle of it. One of her hands starts to pinch and twist her nipple, while the other runs down her body and settles at her core. She watches as Fred stands up and starts to undress himself, her index finger starting to rub small circles on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she moans, tilting her head back.

Once Fred is fully nude he kneels on the bed next to Y/N’s head and takes himself in his hand. He starts to slowly stroke his cock, his eyes crawling over every inch of Y/N’s body. There’s a flush that creeps up her chest, over her neck and to her cheeks and her hips are slowly rocking as she teases her clit.

“So pretty, princess. You look so pretty touching yourself for Daddy,” Fred praises.

Y/N turns her head to look at Fred as she feels her orgasm approaching. She opens her mouth, silently asking Fred to let her suck him off. When he doesn’t immediately give in, she whines. “Please let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please.”

Fred reaches down with his free hand to cup Y/N’s cheek. “Fucking hell you’re desperate for it princess.” He pushes his hips forward just enough so Y/N can wrap her lips around the head of his cock.

Y/N whines around Fred’s cock, her head starting to move up and down. She lets her tongue wrap around the head on each pull back, wanting Fred to release into her mouth. When he starts to slowly fuck his hips forward she hums around him in encouragement. As her climax builds she starts to rub harder circles on her clit, desperate for release.

“Fuck princess, gonna make Daddy come,” Fred moans, his eyes watching his cock disappear into her mouth.

Y/N’s eyes flutter shut as she reaches her orgasm, her whole body trembling. She moans around Fred’s cock as pleasure flows through her, causing him to suddenly release into her mouth. Her motions on her clit slow down as Fred’s cock twitches in her mouth and she swallows his release. As Fred slowly pulls his cock out of her mouth Y/N stops her movement on her clit, bringing her hand up to clean off her finger.

“Holy fuck,” Fred pants, watching Y/N’s lips wrap around her finger. “You are so fucking amazing,” he says in awe. Fred’s cock which hadn’t even gone fully soft starts to harden again as Y/N looks up at him. “Look at what you do to Daddy, princess. His cock is already hard for you again.”

Y/N smiles as she gets up to her knees. She wraps one hand around his cock and starts to slowly stroke it, while her other goes to his neck so she can pull their lips together. Fred’s mouth immediately overpowers hers, and he forces his tongue into her mouth. Fred is fully hard in Y/N’s hand now, and as they kiss he maneuvers them so he’s sitting with his back up against the wall, and Y/N is sitting in his lap.

“Need your cock Daddy,” Y/N whines, pulling her mouth away from Fred’s. “Fuck me Daddy, please.”

Fred chuckles, his hands falling onto Y/N’s hips. “Go on then, princess. Fuck yourself on my cock since you’re so desperate for it.” Fred suppresses a groan as Y/N grinds down against him. Fred and Y/N have tried nearly every sexual position either of them could think of, and they both know that being on top is low on Y/N’s list of favorites; she much prefers it when Fred holds her down and fucks her into the mattress.

“Daddy,” she pouts, grinding down against him again.

Fred narrows his eyes at her and resists his urge to kiss her. “Princess,” he warns. “If you wanna be a desperate cock slut, then be a desperate cock slut and fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Maybe if you’re a good girl and you come on Daddy’s cock he’ll give you what you want.”

Y/N perks up at that, and she leans forward to kiss Fred slowly as she rises to her knees. One of her hands’ rests on his shoulder, while the other reaches back to grasp the base of his cock.

Fred breaks their kiss so he can watch as Y/N lines him up with her entrance. Y/N whines as she sinks down, her eyes fluttering shut at how full she feels. She sinks down until their hips meet and Fred is fully inside of her.

“Fuck you’re tight, princess. Always so tight for Daddy,” he praises. He groans as Y/N starts to roll her hips, his grip on her tightening. “Go on, baby,” he encourages. “Get yourself off on my cock.”

“Oh,” Y/N moans, her hands gripping Fred’s shoulders tightly. She starts to slowly pick herself up, stopping when Fred is only halfway inside her, before she slams herself back down. “So good, Daddy,” she pants.

Y/N fucks herself on Fred’s cock like that for a few minutes, growing frustrated when she fails to hit the spot inside of her that will bring her to her orgasm. “Daddy please,” she whines.

“Come on, princess. You know how to fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Come around Daddy’s cock and he’ll give you what you want,” he encourages.

Y/N leans back, placing a hand on each of Fred’s thighs and uses the leverage to lift herself up. “Oh fuck,” she gasps as she sinks back down, the tip of Fred’s cock finally brushing her sweet spot.

“You look so pretty, princess. Getting yourself off on my cock,” Fred praises, helping Y/N to lift her hips off of him. “Such a good girl.”

Y/N moans as she fucks herself on Fred’s cock, already feeling her orgasm approaching. She starts to move her hips desperately, searching for her release. “So close, Daddy. Touch me Daddy please,” she pleads.

Fred smirks before he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Come on, Princess, come on Daddy’s cock,” he encourages, one of his hands leaving her hip so he can rub circles on her clit.

With one more downwards movement of her hips Y/N’s walls tighten around Fred as she comes, her body shaking as her orgasm rolls through her. “That’s it, princess. Such a good girl,” Fred coos quietly, his thumb slowing its motion and his hips rocking slightly to help her through her orgasm.

Fred kisses Y/N slowly as her breathing starts to return to normal. She shifts around on his cock as their lips move together and it takes everything in Fred to not come right there. “You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, princess. Doing so well,” he says, breaking their kiss. “Can you take more, baby? D’you want Daddy to fuck you into the mattress?” Fred pecks Y/N’s lips. “It’s okay if you don’t baby. Daddy just wants to take care of you.”

“Want you to come inside me Daddy,” Y/N tells him, looking into Fred’s eyes. “Want you to pin me down and fuck me into the mattress.”

Fred doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Y/N hard and flips them over so her back is on the bed and he’s hovering over her. He throws both of her legs over his shoulders, pinning her to the mattress with his hips. He braces himself with one hand as his other comes up to grip Y/N’s throat and he pulls all the way out before he slams back into her.

“Oh fuck, Daddy,” Y/N moans as Fred starts to fuck into her relentlessly. The tip of his cock is brushing the spot inside of her and she’s already so sensitive from her previous two orgasms, and with the way Fred is gripping the side of her neck she knows she won’t last long.

“God, princess,” Fred grunts as Y/N’s walls clench around him. “Such a good pussy. You always feel go good wrapped around Daddy.” Fred lands a particularly hard slam as Y/N moves to touch herself. “Hands off, princess. Want you to come just from my cock. Can you do that for Daddy?”

Y/N nods, too busy moaning and whining to answer Fred verbally. Her body feels like it’s on fire, her toes curling and her back arching as she reaches her climax. “Daddy,” she moans lowly, as she comes around Fred’s cock, a few stray tears falling from the corners of her eyes.

“Fuck princess,” Fred moans. Y/N’s walls tighten and twitch around him, bringing him to his own release. His hips still as he empties himself inside of her and he crashes their lips together. Fred slows their kiss down as they both recover, unable to stop the smirk that forms on his mouth when Y/N whines as he slowly pulls out of her. Fred collapses on the bed next to Y/N and she immediately cuddles into his side as he wraps his arm around her.

“I love you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.  

Fred turns his head so he can kiss her properly, not pulling away until they both need to breathe. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says softly. “Are you alright? Did I go too far?”

Y/N shakes her head, chuckling at Fred’s concern. “Not at all, love. It was incredible.” She pauses so she can press a kiss to his neck. “I’m glad I have the next few days off, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

Fred laughs and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Good thing I have you all to myself because I have quite a few plans for us.”

Y/N looks up at him, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yeah? What might those be?”

“Let’s just say our cameras are definitely going to need more film when I’m done with you.”