#and who knows if your number is even the same

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Granny's Sugar Cookies

Summary: Working in Hero Force’s mail room is the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

Based off this prompt (X)

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Travis, your supervisor, makes you take Disposal Training every two weeks to keep your skills fresh for the inevitable day something does show up in the mail.

“You’re lucky,” Travis says with his wide arms folded over his chest. He still wears the mail uniform from the 90’s with the pale blue, short-sleeved button down and the darker blue pinstripes. The Hero Force mask covering half of his face is in the new “regulation black” that every Hero Force personnel has to put on at the start of every shift. You hear Travis complain that they won’t let him wear the old brown one a lot. “But luck won’t ever take you further than training, kid.”

You aren’t a kid. In fact, Travis could almost be your kid. Your pension isn’t supposed to start for another three years, so that’s how long you need this job to last. There are rumors that Travis is trying to get you to quit before then as a way to prevent you from collecting retirement benefits from Hero Force. Save the company some money. You don’t think that’s true. You think that the extra training every second week is actually Travis’ way of being kind – you get to sit in the air-conditioned office for two hours and watch the same videos with your feet propped up.

Still, it is unusual that you haven’t opened anything criminal yet. Lots of people cautioned you against taking the job. Your neighbors, friends, your husband…even your eldest -who also works for Hero Force and who suggested it to you in the first place. They said it was the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

“I don’t think it happens as often as people think,” you’d told your husband and child when the offer letter came. What you didn’t say was we don’t have a choice. You’d laughed and petted the coffee table. “Now maybe we can think about getting this old thing refinished, hm?”

Three years isn’t a long time anymore, not with a good 63 of them already under your belt. When the financial advisor ran the numbers and grimly told you how long you’d need to stay in the workforce, you’d been relieved. You’re fortunate that being a baker for most of your life has kept you reasonably fit and that you’re used to being on your feet.

Still, eight hours is a long time for anyone to be staring at bland white envelopes and brown boxes wrapped with yellow tape, so you’re thinking longingly of the bath you know your husband will have drawn for you at home when the blast doors slam down over the exit, trapping you and three of your coworkers in the sorting room.

You blink at the heavy metal plate that nearly took your (seemingly ever-growing) nose right off your face. The WARNING light hanging above the door is lit, casting the room in a striking red glow.

“You scanned that here?” Ring asks. He’s over at the sorting table, standing over the new hire’s shoulder. He gapes down at the screen held between her hands. It shows an x-ray of the box sitting innocuously on the sorting table. “Boxes with that dimension are supposed to be scanned in the disposal room!”

“It’s my last package,” the new hire says. You have to strain to hear her voice despite only being a dozen feet away. She’s already been given a nickname – Mouse. Fear makes her even quieter than before. “I-I thought—It’s to Strongwoman. Who would even think sending her a bomb would work? She got hit by a bus last week and the bus lost.”

“You know we don’t sort based on recipient,” Hawk says, pinching the bridge of her nose under her mask. She’s the veteran in the room, gaining her nickname from being the longest surviving member of the mail room after Travis and for having the highest number of successful disposals in history. Hawk eyed. “Your scan just told the defense system there’s a bomb in a vulnerable part of headquarters. We’ll be trapped here until they can get Demolition out to disarm it.”

“Or until it goes off,” Ring offers helpfully. Ring stands for ring the alarm, something he’s always doing. “Which it probably will before Demolition flies over from freakin’ California.”

Mouse hiccups. Her hands tremble on the scanner. “I-I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not…it could be something else?”

Ring and Hawk look at each other over her head. Ring tilts his head to the scanner. Hawk’s lips thin.

Translation: Unlikely.

“Maybe,” Hawk says. She puts a comforting hand on Mouse’s shoulder. “The only way to tell for sure is to open it.”

“Which protocol says we shouldn’t do,” Ring says.

You rub your nose. You don’t have to go to the bathroom this second, but you know your body. Protocol is not to carry a phone in the sorting room, so none of you have a way to you’re your husband and let him know you’ll be late. “How long do you think it will take for a disposal team to arrive? Supposing there’s one besides Demolition.”

Three heads whip towards you. There’s a range of emotions there, from surprise to dismay to dread.

“Oh no,” Mouse whispers, “I’ve killed Granny too.”

“If you survive, no one will ever forgive you,” Ring says.

Mouse’s eyes well with tears. “R-really?”

“Even Neon loves her muffins—"

Hawk hits him over the head hard enough his mask slips down over his eyes. While he curses and sets it to rights, she says, “Sorry, Granny. We’ll probably be waiting a while.”

You tug at your cardigan and shuffle over. The box is too big to be scanned in the sorting room – about the size of a case of flour you used to get delivered to the shop. The three of them make room for you on their side of the table. You squint at the screen. “What type of bomb is it?”

“Not like any I’ve seen before,” Hawk says. She takes the scanner from Mouse and angles it towards you. The box is shown in green and black lines. Inside is a cube of white and some curly bits. There are strange shadows across each shape, as if there are layers and layers of something over the top. “You?”

You raise your eyebrows. You thought it was common knowledge. “Well, I’ve never seen one before outside of training.”

Mouse starts. “Never seen—”

“Granny is lucky,” Ring says. He pats her on the shoulder like Hawk had. It’s nowhere near as comforting. “You’re just unlucky enough to have canceled that out.”

You pull out your glasses. You’re supposed to get the mask with your prescription over the eyes to prevent anyone from recognizing your personal eyewear. You think the prescription masks are itchy, however, so you regularly sneak them in your cardigan pocket. The scanner remains incomprehensible to you, even with them on. “It doesn’t look anything like it does in training.” You frown as the curls begin to look like ribbon the longer you stare at them. “Are you sure this is a bomb?”

“The defense system triggered on it,” Hawk says.

You wave your hand. These new AI systems are wrong all the time. You recently saw a news article about how the facial recognition software at the Hero Academy failed to pick out a top journalist, allowing him complete access to the campus. “They wouldn’t have us here sorting if the system were infallible.”

A strange look crosses Hawk’s face. “That’s one perspective.”

“It’s a state-of-the-art system,” Ring tells Mouse in a low tone. You imagine he thinks you can’t hear him or the faint laughter in his voice. “It’s not wrong.”

That grates. You may be new to the sorting room, but you aren’t wrong to question the systems. You point. “It could be cookies. See these disks here? Sugar cookies, I used to make a recipe just as thick. They’ve been very popular to send to Strongwoman lately; she must like them. And that’s the ribbon tying the box closed.”

“No,” Ring says. “No, it’s not cookies, Granny.”

Your spine stiffens. “I think it is.”

“Granny,” Hawk says tentatively. “Do you…often think things like these are cookies?”

“People do send the heroes a lot of baked goods,” you say. “It’s the best way to show gratitude!”

Mouse’s jaw drops. In a normal voice, she says, “You’ve been sending bombs onto heroes thinking they’re cookies?”

“Because they are,” you say.

“Oh my god,” Ring says. “Granny has seen a bomb, she just hasn’t recognized one before. Oh my god.”

You’re too old to stamp your feet. Instead, you narrow your eyes at Ring like you did when your eldest drew on the walls. “I have not. I open each package—”

“You open them?!”

“Protocol—"

“-and they’re always just cookies,” you say. You snag the package before any of them can move. “I’ll prove it to you!”

There’s a bit of a scuffle. Mouse doesn’t move out of the way of Ring’s lunge in time, and they both topple onto the table. Hawk tries to yank the package away from you, shouting something or other about better to be cautious or Granny stop! But you’re stronger than they think. They may call you Granny, but you’re only 63! Do they think you need a cane to walk?

You rip open the tape. Mouse screams. Ring whimpers. Hawk closes her eyes tight. You shake out the contents of the box.

A pink pastry plops out of the package and onto the scanning table. The three of them are frozen, eyes darting over the pretty ribbon curled into a bow holding it closed. With an indignant huff, you use a letter opener to cut the ribbon and flip back the lid.

Sugar cookies in six sloppy rows and stacked four deep sit inside.

“See?” you say triumphantly. “Sugar cookies!”

Hawk’s brow is furrowed. “That’s not—that can’t be—”

The bomb doors slide down and the WARNING light switches off. The system beeps three times and then falls silent. The quiet that fills the room sounds like victory.

“…so I can go home now?” Mouse asks.

“Yes,” you say smugly. You know it’s bad manners, but all the excitement has dropped your blood sugar. You snag a cookie and bite into it. “We all can.”

Ring and Hawk stay behind, staring from the box to each other and back again as you go home.

----.

You have two days off, and then Travis is off the day you come back so it takes three days for someone to tell you it was a bomb in that box.

That someone is Foresight, the leader of Hero Force.

He looks out of place in the sorting room, smiling and standing by the door as you shuffle from cart to cart to collect your jobs for the day. Travis is there with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed on Foresight.

“We call your class of power S-class,” Foresight explains. “The ability to change reality with a thought – it’s only been observed in a handful of super-powered individuals.”

“I don’t care what power she has,” Travis says. “You aren’t poaching Granny.”

“I would also like to stay in the mail room,” you say.

Foresight opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He looks bemused as he says, “Alright then. We do need to quantify your power. Does Thursday work for you?”

“Yes,” Travis answers for you. “We’ll be there.”

Your ears perk up. Maybe it will be a long meeting. Maybe you’ll have a chance to sit down. “Thursday it is then. I’ll bring some snacks for everyone.”

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[cuteandhughesy]

Met You At The Right Time, This Is What It Feels Like | Quinn Hughes (Headcanons)

summary: falling in love with quinn through your shared years at college (umich!quinn x reader)

[word count] 3.3k

warnings: NSFW! university relationship | kissing | mentions of drinking and partying | smut | loosing virginity | mentions of p in v intercourse | mature themes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this request! this was so fucking fun and cute to write and now I want quinn as my boyfriend ! so hope you all feel the same

🎵 feels like by gracie abrams

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ღ bf! quinn hughes who you first met at the rink. one of your good friends was dating another one of the wolverines and asked you to accompany her to his game.

quinn had spotted you during the warm-ups. your smile wide and amused as you watched all the athletes warm up in their own routines. you were joking with chloe—your friend—while her boyfriend tossed you both pucks over the glass. quinn almost passed out when you glanced his way—sending him a sweet, reserved grin. he forced himself to smile back, and when that made you blush and look away, quinn knew that he had to know you.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asked his teammate about you as soon as the game finished—a victory for the wolverines, thankfully. he attempted to sound nonchalant and uninterested, but his teammate knew quinn too well. he wrapped quinn up in a firm, annoying side huge and gave him a nugie, all while saying 'does huggy bear have a crush on y/n?'

quinn thought the name suited you perfectly. thankfully quinn doesn’t need to ask again before his teammate is getting your number from chloe.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who texted you the following night. at first you were confused—a random number sending you a message with no identification other than a simple 'hey, is this y/n?' curious and intrigued, you responded immediately; 'this is she. who's this?'

quinn's response was immediate, 'shit, sorry. it's quinn hughes.'

and of course that made you giggle into your palm, feet kicking like you're an oversized excited child. because quinn fucking hughes was texting you. quinn hughes, the cutie who sits two rows back from you in kinesiology class. quinn hughes who was stupid good at hockey and was looking at you during warmups the day before.

you don't even care how he got your number (he told you regardless though, obviously), all you cared about was him wanting to text you in the first place.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who after a week and a million shared text messages later, you run into at a local coffee shop—where you merely miss spilling your entire iced chai down the front of his light coloured hockey hoodie.

he freezes and stutters at the sight of your flushed face, and his nerves only build when he sees that you're not nervous to talk to him. quinn quickly realizes he has some sort of infatuation with you, and before he can sike himself out he asks you on a date.

quinn asks in the middle of your scentence, but you don't even care. he's cute—he's dorky. 'would you wanna get dinner together sometime? like maybe thursday, if you're free?'

you are so free.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who picks you up at your dorm room before your first date. he lives off campus with his friends, and he borrowed his roommates car to come and get you. he brings you flowers—which you put in an empty orange juice bottle that you filled with water—and hugs you at the door. it’s kinda awkward and so perfectly quinn.

he lets his hand hover your lower back as you walk to the car, and of course he opens the door for you. quinn lets you play your music in the car, and he lets you talk his ear off—he can’t help but admire how comfortable you are around him. he thinks you’re like sunshine.

quinn takes you to a local italian restaurant, where you order chicken alfredo and he orders spaghetti bolognese. the conversation flows between you easily, and by the time desert rolls around, you’re sharing a lava cake—your respective spoons swiping at each others while playfully fighting for the same bites.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who after bringing you back to your dorm, grabs your wrist before you can walk in. your roommate isn’t home yet, and you can smell the peonies quinn brought that you left in the jug by the door.

you blink at him curiously, because you’ve already shared your pleasant goodbyes and made plans to see each other again. ‘you okay?’

quinn’s palm is sweaty where it wraps around you. he’s nervous, and he swallows roughly—eyes darting around your blushing face like he can’t get enough. ‘can I kiss you?��

your answer is pushing up to your toes and wrapping you arms around his neck. that’s when quinn leans down, kissing you timidly but also firmly. he’s never felt lips softer than yours, and you’ve never had a kiss turn your stomach inside out the way quinn’s did.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asks you on a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth. each date is accompanied by a kiss, and another kiss—until all it feels like you’re doing is giggling and kissing like teenagers.

he’s a gentleman, and never makes advances that you aren’t comfortable with. quinn brings you to the beach for sunsets, kissing you under the glow of the setting sun. he takes you to the movies and to a local pottery class—sneaking kisses anytime your eyes meet.

he asks you to be his girlfriend on your fourth date while you’re both still in the car, hands twitching against his pants nervously. you’ve never smiled bigger, and you squeal in excitement, leaning over the centre console and kissing him.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has never had a serious girlfriend before, only stupid month or so situationships and meaningless hookups. so now that he’s got you, an actual girlfriend, he’s enamoured by all the little ‘girlfriend’ things you do.

quinn goes feral when you wear his clothes. the sight of you waking up in his cozy bed, blinking tiredly while his shirt rides up your body, revealing your underwear…quinn just about dies.

you cook dinner for him, and you always tickle his back when he’s falling asleep. you want to watch all his favourite movies, and you want to learn about hockey—which leads to him teaching you how to skate, where you inevitably fall and bring him down with you.

you’re the perfect girlfriend. and even though quinn stresses he doesn’t need you to fold his laundry or pick up his shampoo when you notice he’s out, he appreciates it more than he could ever express.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who always is getting you flowers. whether it’s a pre-made bouquet from the grocery store, an arrangement he picked out at the florist, or a bunch of wild flowers from the park beside his house, quinn is giving you flowers.

when he’s at the grocery store he always picks up your favourite ben & jerry’s ice cream, as well as your favourite drink. quinn always makes sure you have water before he gets in bed himself, because you’ll be upset if you don’t, and he lets you tuck your feet under his legs because they’re always cold.

quinn is the sweetest boy you’ve ever known and he is constantly making sure you’re content before anything else.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who takes your virginity. you’ve only had one boyfriend and that was back in highschool—the farthest you’d gone with him was kissing and a little groping. when you tell quinn that you’re a virgin, he’s a little nervous—especially because he’s already hovering over you, painfully hard while your bare tits are starring at him. the only reason he’s nervous is because he wants you to be comfortable and sure. he wants it to be perfect for you.

but when you assure him in a breathy whisper, your small nimble fingers reaching out and squeezing his dick, quinn can’t hold himself back any longer. he fucks you soft and sweet, bucking into you at a pace that has your breath hitching. quinn checks on you through the whole thing, scattering kisses along your face and neck while you’re moaning in pleasure.

it’s perfect for you, and that makes it perfect for quinn.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who plays a little extra hard when you’re in the crowd. there’s something so special about having you watching him in the stands during his games, cheering him on and jumping up and down with excitement. quinn swears he can hear you over the crowd, and that always pushes him a little bit more.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who always makes sure to comfort you when you’re stressed—and vice versa.

you often get overwhelmed with your school work. you’re very smart and have a jam packed schedule, and a lot of the time if you want to spend time with quinn, you’re bringing your textbooks and laptop so you can get some work done. quinn hates the way you sigh shakily when you reach a difficult question. you’re tired and done with school, and most of the time it makes you emotional.

when you begin to cry quinn darts to you, wrapping you in a hug while you sob into his shoulder. he rubs your back soothingly, squeezing your arms and sides comfortingly. he whispers words of reassurance in your ear until you’ve calmed down, and when you inevitably get back to work, quinn helps you. even though he has no fucking clue what you’re working on, the effort makes you melt.

quinn is always the most stressed when he’s dealing with an injury or illness—because that puts a pause on hockey. you know how much hockey means to your boyfriend, and seeing him so broken about not being able to play just wrecks you. in times like that, it’s the little things you do that help quinn feel better.

making him food and making sure he’s stocked up on drinks and getting his electrolytes. massaging his shoulders and giving him head scratches. if he’s injured you make sure he’s got everything in reach so he doesn’t have to move, and if he’s sick you make sure you’re in reach, because all quinn ever wants is you.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who isn’t a huge party guy. he prefers staying in—watching movies and hockey highlights until he’s falling asleep, preferably with you tucked into his side.

you’ve always been more outgoing than quinn, and mingling is one of your favourite things to do. so every now and then when you go out, quinn joins you. he loves watching you in your element—dancing with your friends and talking to anyone who will listen. and when you’re wrapping yourself around quinn, blinking and pouting up at him all pretty asking him to dance with you, quinn never declines.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has a few lovey dovey nicknames for you—lovey being one of them. there’s a few more common terms of endearment like babe, baby and beautiful that often slip from his lips like second nature. they’re the safest ones, the nicknames he’ll call you around his friends and yours like it’s no big deal. but then there’s the nicknames he reserves for when it’s just you both—honey, his girly, and your personal favourite: lovey.

your nicknames for quinn are simple—usually just babe or baby. but on the odd occasion when everything feels really soft and intimate, you’ll can him bubba.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who’s love language is words of affirmation. he didn’t realize it until after he met you that it was his love language, but anytime you praise him or reassure him, quinn’s stomach swoops and his heart flutters excitedly. he’s obsessed with the way you speak to him, and he’ll never get tired of it.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who knows your love language is physical touch. you love being close to quinn. if you’re not sitting next to him, you’re sitting on him—trying to get as close as possible at any means necessary. you love wrapping your hands around his arm, and throwing your leg over his hips when you’re in bed together.

quinn can be a bit awkward when it comes to physical contact, especially in public, and you understand and respect that. so when you’re out together and he kisses your cheek or wraps you in a hug, it makes it just that much sweeter.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who may not always go out to parties with you, but will always drop you off and pick you up if you need a ride. it could be a local bar or a random sticky frat house, quinn will be there if you need him.

he’s the most patient human in the world. guiding you to the car while you babble about nonsense—completely hammered. quinn pulls over if you feel sick, even if you has to pull over 15 times in a 5 minute ride. he helps you shower if you’re sticky, and he puts you in pyjamas before you get in bed—no matter who’s place you’re at. quinn makes you chug water and take advil, and he makes sure you’re sleeping on your side incase you get sick.

and he doesn’t even mind doing it either. as long as you’re safe and okay, quinn will do whatever he needs to.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who says I love you first. you’ve been dating for 6 months, and spring is blooming in michigan. it’s the first really warm day of march, and he’s taken you to the pier for a afternoon date.

you walk the pier and have shitty boardwalk food—laughing, kissing and talking about anything and everything. dates like this are always your favourite. just you, quinn and the comforting atmosphere.

you had been mid talking about the book you were reading, a book that was making you angry because you claimed the plot was ‘stupid’. you were telling quinn about the main character, hands moving animatedly as you talked when quinn just said it.

‘I love you so much, y/n’ he said quitley. but you heard it, and your previous ramble comes to a halt. you blinked once, and then again, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. and then tears begin forming in your eyes, and quinn smiles. ‘don’t cry lovey’ he said, pulling you into his chest.

but of course you continue to cry, holding onto quinn like your life depended on it. and when you look up at him and say it back, lashes all wet and nose running, quinn thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has to be almost sneaky when it comes to having sex with you. you live in a dorm room with a roommate, and he lives in a house with four other teammates. quinn doesn’t have his own car, and neither do you. having sex is like trying to curate a spy mission.

you have to plan times you’ll be alone, which is usually in your dorm room between 5 p.m and 6:30 p.m while you’re roommate is in a clinical lab. that’s always the best sex with quinn because he doesn’t have to hold back. he holds you against the mattress with his body, and there’s a pillow shoved under your hips while he slips in from behind. quinn pounds you into the mattress until it’s creaks, and he has to cover your mouth to muffle your moans. after all, it’s still a dorm room and you have neighbours.

but there are times when you’re both too impatient and horny. his roommates are scattered through his house, half downstairs and the other only a room over. quinn’s simple and innocent kisses soon turn more heated, and before either of you can think logically, you’re exposing only the essentials so quinn can slip into your heat while he holds your legs open.

your moans are muffled with his lips, and he shoves a pillow between the wall and headboard to not give away what you’re doing.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who gets really stressed once scouts starts checking him out for the upcoming draft. you notice in the way his shoulders are tighter, and he starts to get a little distant.

of course it hurts your feelings, but you understand the pressure he’s feeling. so like the sweet girlfriend quinn knows you to be, you reassure him. you’re not too pushy, and you’re not overwhelming. you kiss him gently and whisper your confidence in him when it’s just the two of you, facing each other in bed—nothing but the moonlight illuminating you.

it helps him more than you’ll ever know.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who is a silent jealous type. he knows you’re social, and he also knows that guys love that. when you’re at parties and mingling your little heart out, lots of guys will try and make advances on you.

you ooze confidence, and your smile is so fucking pretty that quinn almost understands these guys. but you’re his girlfriend, and the sight of these boys trying to touch you and flirt with you makes his blood boil.

of course you don’t entertain them, but that doesn’t stop the jealousy that stirs within your boyfriend. you can always tell when quinn is feeling jealous because his body gets tense and he pouts like a little boy. it doesn’t matter where you are—could be the beach and strangers are checking out your body, or a grocery store and a man compliments your smile, quinn always has the same jealous reaction. and that’s no reaction at all expect that frown.

when you see it you’re instantly moving, wrapping yourself around quinn and giving his pulse point a little kiss. and when you murmur that you love him, quinn always cracks.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who even when you’re fighting, never raises his voice at you. it doesn’t matter how frustrated he is, or how pointless your argument is, quinn would never yell. most of the time is just makes you angrier, because why can’t he just put you in your place—especially when you know you’re being annoying and stupid. but quinn always just tries to problem solve in a calm, soothing voice.

but don’t worry, he puts you in your place in other ways ;)

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asks you to stay with him for a few weeks in the summer at the lake house before the draft.

if quinn wasn’t in love with you already, seeing you with his family would’ve had him falling. you always cook breakfast with ellen in the morning, the two of you giggling and chatting like you’ve known each other for ears. you go golfing with quinn and his dad, and even though you suck at it, jim has nothing but praise and encouragement for you.

jack and luke tease you like you’re their sister. they push you into the pool and steal your fries when you’re not looking, which always makes you laugh. you blend in with his family so well, quinn can’t do anything but smile and admire it all as it unfolds.

you sit with quinn during bonfires and movie nights on the couch, sharing quick kisses when you both think nobody is watching—news flash, somebody is always watching, which usually ends with his mom cooing or his brothers teasing. you and quinn both wake up a little extra early, stifling moans as quinn pushes into your heat in the uninterrupted hours of the morning. you swim like kids, go grocery shopping with his brothers, dance in the moonlight as taylor swift songs, make out on the boat when everyone else stays back. it’s perfect. its simply just you and quinn.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who you sit beside at the nhl draft. he’s nervous, your hand clutched in his clammy one while his thumb runs over your knuckles absentmindedly. just before the draft starts, you squeeze his hand three times, a silent I love you. and quinn squeezes back.

his name gets called and you feel like crying. he hugs his parents first, and then quinn turns to you, a smile on his face while your eyes begin to go misty. he kisses you, in front of the cameras and the crowd because he knows you’re going to be together for the rest of your lives, and the nhl might as well get used to you now, because you’re not going anywhere.

[thewidowsledger]

Closer

© thewidowsledger - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x SHIELD Detective!Female Reader

Word count: 8k

Tags | Warnings: +18 smut, angst, top!Wanda, bottom!reader, Wanda being a perv criminal, fingering (r), enchanted strap (r), dubcon, breeding kink, pregnancy, comic/tarot reading inaccuracies (I did try my best searching about them), jealousy if you squint, friendzoned!Nat

Author's note: This is set after the MoM, Wanda being stuck on Earth-818, where she is a multiversal criminal after killing the Illuminati—the planet's mightiest heroes. Title inspired from the song Closer by NIN. I have another a/n at the end of the fic.

Navigation | Masterlist

ᱬ

"Do you know this girl?"

Wanda lets out a small huff, then leans on the table, her sore cuffed hands resting on the cold surface.

"I'll tell you if you tell me what color those pretty little panties of yours are."

ᱬ

She had killed the Illuminati, the very protectors of your universe. You couldn't understand why she would go after them, they were the ones who were keeping your universe safe and sound. It seemed that the only reason she had for doing this was to gain more power somehow and that's the only thing you got as of now.

But you couldn't help but wonder if she's up to something…more or personal? If she isn't after more power, then what is she up to? She could be plotting something far more sinister than anyone could imagine.

Or something she just lost.

As you stand in front of the interrogation room door, your heart is pounding fast, your hands are cold and your breathing hitched.

"I'll get you to talk." You murmured to yourself.

You then took a deep breath before signaling the agents that you are ready, then you watched as the door slowly opened before you. Sitting behind a desk facing you was the most wanted criminal on your planet.

As you stepped inside you examined her, you noticed that her body was covered in a number of devices which were meant to restrain her from using her magical powers. There's something on her temple, something that looked like an electric device. She also had the same thing collared around her neck and in her cuffed hands, you also took note of her blackened fingers. But both her feet seem to be free and in full display. She seemed to be unfazed by all the devices though, despite the fact she looks restrained in almost all parts of her body.

You were one of the top detectives in your field, but you had never seen any of this stuff, let alone be in a high security room with the most wanted criminal in your universe.

"Worried about me? Detective?" She asked as if she could read your mind.

"Comfortable with those on your body?" You huffed lightly, you hoped that you were able to keep a straight face while asking that question. You were doing your best to keep your cool, but it wasn't easy with her looking at you like that. "Sadly, you can only have those removed if you cooperate with me."

Wanda's face started to form a smirk before letting out a small chuckle as if to torment you even more. It was as if she knew exactly what kind of effect she was having on you.

"What about you? I don't think those clothes are comfortable on you…" she spoke with a wolfish grin, "want me to remove them?"

You force yourself to look away from Wanda, your heart rate slightly elevated. You take a deep, subtle breath, trying to compose yourself completely, focusing instead on your mission. There is no room for any distractions right now.

But God, this woman is a breathing distraction.

"Wanda Maximoff, is that your name?" you started, putting down the files you were pretending to fix a while back.

"Yes."

"Where are you from, Wanda?"

Silence.

You pressed on with the same question rephased, "Could you tell me where exactly you came from?"

She still didn't respond. Her eyes were like ice, cold and emotionless. You sighed disappointingly that now made the woman curve her lips upward.

Now, you began to lay out the facts, "You're not from here," you stated. "We've figured that one out. You're not from our universe and you killed our heroes." You slid a photo in front of her, the sound of the paper touching the cold metal table. "Do you know who that is?" It was a cropped photo of her. She was wearing a sweater and wide pants. She had a soft and gentle expression on her face, unlike the cold and emotionless looks she had been giving you so far. You observed how she looked at the photo and there is something you can't put a finger on her expression as she stared at it—jealousy?

"That's me."

"Wrong," you said firmly. You saw her eyes shot through you faster than the lightning. You were pleased that you were finally getting some sort of reaction from her. You could tell that you had caught her off guard. It seems like she wasn't used to being contradicted like this, you'll take note of that.

As a detective, if you cannot get an answer from your culprit you will get a reaction out of them. It was a fun game for you.

You held up another photo, before sliding it down on the table. This one is a closeup shot of her looking eye to eye at one of the monitors of Illuminati headquarters that was recovered. She was covered in blood and her eyes were glowing red.

The photo that has been haunting you since this case was given to you.

She just stared at it like a mirror. Then slowly, she began to tilt her head to the side, imitating the pose in the photo—taunting you. You could feel her eyes piercing into your soul.

Before you could lose yourself at her stare, you slammed your fingers down the photos. "This is not you, this is the Wanda Maximoff of this universe." You pointed at the photo of her variant with the soft and gentle expression on her face. You slid it towards you before grabbing the photo that is left, which was a photo of her showering in blood, "This…this is you."

Silence.

"Happy," you flick the photo of the happy Wanda. "And miserable." You pout, putting down the bloody Wanda in front of her.

Well, your tactics seemed to be not working. Because silence is all you got.

You took a deep breath and spoke again, trying to keep your frustration in check. "I'm going to ask you again, why are you here in my universe?" You stared at her expectantly, hoping for some kind of response this time. But Wanda remained silent, her face impassive as she stared back at you.

You were just starting, you just got here for like twenty minutes. Usually, during this part of interrogation you aren't frustrated yet unless you didn't have your pack of gummies before you started. You still should be cool and calm, but right now? You don't think you are at all.

She seemed to relish in your frustration. Taking pleasure in watching you struggle to get a straight answer out of her. This only added to your growing annoyance, making you wonder how long you could keep up this interrogation without losing your temper completely.

"Don't breathe too hard, detka."

You swear to your dead grandparents, you are going to lose it.

Your face flushed red like a fool, stomach was in knots as you tried to ignore the growing feeling of something you will slap yourself about.

Now, you managed to compose yourself back again, it's your turn to be silent. Fun games for you to play—the silent game where you'll sit on your chair while the culprit moves themselves in every way they could think of, walk, sit on the floor until their ass gets sore while you sit comfortably on your chair and this will go on for long painful hours. You've got to have years of training before you can master it.

So you sat comfortably, not saying anything. You waited to see what she would say or do next. But it seems like she was playing a waiting game as well, trying to see who would break first.

The two of you only sat in silence but the tension was too obvious in the small suffocating metal room.

You looked up from your file folder over and over again, taking notes of everything you got so far and that is the unknown name she had given you—detka. Now, you blinked as you realized how much time had passed. Your eyes shifted to Wanda and you noticed that she was tapping her blackened fingers impatiently on the table. It was clear that she was growing restless.

Good, you told yourself before getting back to your papers. One thing you're sure about is you have been here over and over, you had sat in a small cramped room for ten to twenty four hours half of your life. You're used to it. You do it for a living.

You'll last longer than she will.

"Detective Y/L/N, we got something for you." You heard through the comms of the suffocating room.

You got up and went to the door, waiting as a folder was delivered through a small opening of the door. As you walked back to the table, you couldn't shake off the feeling that Wanda was watching you intently. You tried to ignore it, focusing on the folder in front of you. But the weight of her gaze made the hairs on your neck rise. You glanced up at her, and sure enough, she was staring at you, a smirk written all over her face.

"It's quite disappointing I am not unwrapping something," she commented suggestively as she watched you unwrap the manila envelope on your hands. Then, her gaze drifted up to your lips and to your chest, your cleavage showing slightly on your low cut blouse that seemed to be taunting her from the moment you had stepped into the room.

Your jaw tensed as you tried to ignore the effect her nonsense comments were having on you, you tried to remain focused and professional, but you couldn't deny the heat building between your thighs.

You shame yourself.

You crossed your legs awkwardly, trying to conceal your discomfort. Wanda's smirk only grew wider when she noticed your movement. You could feel her eyes on you, and you wondered if she could tell how this back-and-forth was affecting you. Your mind raced, trying to come up with a way to regain control of the situation without giving her any more satisfaction. So you just decided to shift the focus of the conversation back to the interrogation. You examined a photo of a young girl wearing a denim jacket, taking note of a slight glow on her knuckles before showing it to Wanda.

"Do you know this girl?"

Wanda lets out a small huff, then leans on the table, her sore cuffed hands resting on the cold surface.

"I'll tell you if you tell me what color those pretty little panties of yours are."

"Who is this man?" you pushed another photo towards her that you weren't even able to see first just so you could dismiss her painful teasing, hoping to shift the conversation back to your hands because clearly, it's in hers.

"You want answers? Come on, detective, it's a simple question. Red? Black? Maybe something a little more innocent, like pin—"

"If stupidity is the only thing that will come out of your dirty mouth, then don't talk to me or don't speak, at all." You finally snapped, "I had asked you simple questions as well but I think you're too dumb to answer them since you're all silent." You knew that this was a low blow, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratification as you threw her own words back at her.

But still, you didn't last long.

You gathered the papers, folders, and envelopes in front of you, you couldn't help but feel Wanda's venomous glare burning into you. When you glanced up at her, you gulped by the sight of her face. Her expression was a picture of barely contained fury, suddenly feeling like prey being stalked by a predator—like the photo of her showering in blood. You immediately avoided her fiery gaze, you swore you saw it flicker red. You shake your head and take a hold of your documents.

You couldn't believe she had gotten the best of you in this interrogation and you only got defeated and frustrated. All you can do is huff, straightening your collar and smoothing your hair as you try to regain a sense of composure and the little shame that this investigation left you. You glanced towards the two-way mirror, knowing that the other agents and your colleagues were watching this whole ordeal unfold. They watched as you got humiliated by this multiversal criminal.

Taking a deep breath, you spoke up, your voice firm and decisive. "I think I am done here," you said, signaling them to open the door for you. But before you could even step outside, Wanda suddenly spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension in the room like a knife.

"It's not stupidity if it's all true," her words dripping with a cold and thick accent you are not familiar with that sent shivers down your spine.

You knit your brows together but you didn't turn around because you knew you would only see the annoying smirk plastered on her face.

"Victoria's secret, it's lacy and has a floral pattern, scarlet. And it's wet."

You clenched your jaw tightly, your nostrils flaring in anger. Now, you felt violated and humiliated, she had really gotten under your skin in a way that no one else had ever managed before.

As the door shut behind you, you felt a sense of relief at finally getting some distance from her, and you took a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself down—a routine you usually do.

"You okay?" Natasha immediately asked, removing her leather jacket and placing it on your shoulders, "I swear, allow me to do this."

Wanda rose from her chair and tried her best to stretch, trying to pop and shift some bones in her restrained neck and her back. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if she was savoring the moment. Then, she walked towards the one-way glass mirror.

"No, Nat. If I allow that to happen one of you will come out in that room in a body bag." You walked to put your files down briefly staring at Wanda who was now hovering closely to the mirror.

Natasha then grabbed you by your right arm, her face dangerously close on yours. She clearly didn't like how this multiversal criminal talked to you. "And who do you think that will be?" Natasha asked intimidatingly.

You just huffed playfully, rolling your eyes on her making Natasha let out a few laugh.

"Are you sure those devices are really working on her?"

"Well, we don't know where she's from or what entity she really is. So we don't really know what else she can do," Natasha said and you already know that fact. "As of now it is the highest and most secure restraining device that they have. At least that's what they told me. Why?"

Well, you don't think it is working or restraining her powers at all.

Natasha didn't speak as if she already knew what's going on in your mind. "So it's true?"

"What is?" You asked as you crouched down to your bag, stuffing all the heavy documents you had dragged to and fro wherever you go.

"What she said."

"Natasha, she said nothing but taunt and—"

"Eye fuck you, yes."

Humiliate, humiliate is what you were going to say.

"The last thing she said, was it true?"

Natasha's question hung in the air, you found yourself frozen in place, your mind racing to come up with an appropriate response. You then slowly turned around and your eyes first landed on Wanda. You still have no idea if she can hear or see everything despite her being locked inside, but you can see her staring right at you as if she can see you through the one-way mirror. Now, you are both staring at each other even with the glass standing against the two of you.

Guess there is only one way to find out.

"Why don't you drop by later and find out, agent?"

You stepped back, almost like a flinch as you watched Wanda hit the mirror with her cuffed hands, her jaw shaking and her eyes flickering with a terrifying red glow, as if the rage within her had taken on a life of its own.

Now that you know how much effect you have on her, and how you figured out how she plays—you will play her game with your own hands.

Play the game or the game plays you.

ᱬ

Your fingers flew over the keyboard of your laptop as you delved into the files that had been recovered from the headquarters of the Illuminati. The video footage was particularly compelling, showing Wanda's abilities at their most devastating. You watched in horror as she unleashed a barrage of powerful magic, tearing through the ranks of the Illuminati with ease.

Black Bolt was killed having his mouth covered.

Captain Carter was cut in half with her shield.

Reed Richard was grated to death.

Photon was blasted with her own powers and was crushed by a statue.

And Professor X's neck was snapped by Wanda after what you think was a telepathic duel.

"Why did you do all this, Wanda Maximoff?" You whispered to yourself.

You knew that what had happened there was unprecedented and that the implications were far-reaching. Another set of evidence was given to you stating where this multiversal criminal was, Earth-616—from a different reality. With the Illuminati gone, multiversal travel was impossible, and the potential for catastrophic consequences seemed to loom around every turn with her being in your reality.

You watched another video footage of a young girl who was clearly in the throes of something far beyond her control. The way she was running and in a second she was being consumed by a star-figured portal she made herself, as if her own power was turning on her, devouring her from within.

A theory now begins to take shape in your mind. You theorized that perhaps Wanda was here in your universe because of the young girl. But again, it would always fall back onto why Wanda killed your world's mightiest heroes.

"Think, Y/N. C'mon."

As a seasoned detective, you couldn't help but consider all angles and possibilities. Then, another theory popped, what if Wanda used the girl to get to your universe? But the question that nagged at you this time was why she would do such a thing. What was her motive? Was she trying to escape from her own universe or did she have some greater purpose in mind? The uncertainty of it all made your mind tangle, as you desperately tried to piece together the puzzle that was Wanda Maximoff of Earth-616.

"What do you want?" You whispered, your gaze was locked repeating the footage of Wanda going on to Illuminati one by one.

ᱬ

"Thank you for meeting me."

Wanda nodded in acknowledgement, as she locked the door of the cafe behind you. You carefully watched her actions and movements as you followed her. And as a detective yourself it was your nature to observe and it was clear that she was a bit nervous, a far cry from the confident and aggressive that is her variant.

She led you to a small table for two, as you two finally settled in, you spoke.

"So, uhm. I'm detective Y/N and I think you kno—"

"I-I know who you are, I know what happened," Wanda interjected, cutting you off mid-sentence. Her tone was sharp and clipped, as if she had already anticipated your attempt to broach the topic of the devastating events that had transpired within the week. "You don't need to repeat it all over again," she said with finality.

It was all over the news for days now, hell it would be for the next few years. The death of the World's mightiest heroes and footage of the one who killed them, which was her—not technically her but her variant from another universe.

"I have received threats and so are my children. I had to close my shop since then," your gaze darted around the surroundings. Before you got in, you'd seen the words "murderer, witch, killer, anti-hero," painted on the shop's windows in bold, aggressive strokes.

"But…I have nothing to do with it," Wanda's voice trembled with emotion, you could hear the undeniable anguish in her words. "There would be times that I can't control my powers and it frightens me. My body was present but my mind was something else...someone else," she continued, her voice growing fainter, almost like a distant echo. "I had glimpses of a star…more like a portal, a shattered mirror and a book. But it's…I swear, it's not me I have nothing to do with it."

"Hey, it's—" you carefully edge in. But she quickly stopped you.

"No, I want to get this over with. I just want my children to be safe." She looked at you with glossy eyes. She looks so tired and defeated. "I used to dream every night," she continued, her words tumbling out rapidly, "I was…I was happy, I was with my children, I was in control of everything. But then it's gone. I put my kids to sleep then everything slowly started to disappear, I watched it. I watched everything I created, everything I loved disappear right in front of me."

"You lost your children…" you whispered unintentionally.

"Not me, I'm with my children," Wanda shook her head lightly before looking at you.

"It's not you who lost them…"

It struck you deeply, and suddenly, the pieces started to fall into place.

"What we see in our dreams are what is happening on our alternative selves. They may not be our exact selves, but they're our counterparts from different universes, and when we sleep, we inadvertently tap into their experiences."

"H-how sure are you about that?"

"I came to my old mentor, I told her everything about it. She might give you better answers than I do, I stopped learning more about my powers since I retired," She paused briefly, her gaze dropping to the ground. "Besides, I…I'm just a sitting duck variant here."

"Hey—" you blinked when she handed you a piece of paper. Stopping your attempt to comfort once again.

"I don't need it. Here is the address if you still need answers. That's all I can give you."

She stood and you panicked, you hurried after her. As she reached the door, she turned to face you for a brief moment, her expression unreadable. Before you could utter a polite goodbye, she had already shut the door behind you, leaving you standing in the cold street.

You took an exasperated sigh, then, you quickly pulled out your phone and dialed Natasha's number, asking her to send some SHIELD agents to keep an eye on Wanda and her kids for protection. After the call, you felt lost, it's like you're close to hitting a brick wall, but then you remembered the paper Wanda gave you.

"This sounds like a sham."

ᱬ

"What are you doing here in our universe?" Natasha asked for God knows how many times now. But Wanda remained silent.

She unbuttons her suit jacket, revealing her holstered gun. She watches Wanda's silent form, she is unfazed—unthreatened. She wishes you were here, with how easily you extracted information just using your eyes and laughter. How your disarming smiles could crack even the hardest facades, including hers.

"Was I right?" Natasha freezes, surprised by Wanda's sudden voice.

"What?" Natasha responds sharply, trying to hide her shock. "What did you say?" She watches Wanda closely. Her eyes are no longer empty. They're stormy and intense. "Right about what?"

"C'mon you know what I am talking about." Wanda's eyes crinkled to the side. And Natasha's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the smirk, remembering the last thing this criminal had said about you before you got out of the first interrogation. Natasha catches herself slowly smirking as well before she can stop it, leaning back confidently in her chair. She hoped this play of hers would look natural.

"Not going to lie, it was impressive 'cause you were right about it. Saw it upclose, it was black, lacy Victoria's Secret, and it's wet—for me."

"It's red." Wanda immediately corrected, the colors of Natasha's face started to drain in embarrassment. "Dark red," She emphasizes, "Almost burgundy, like wine...or blood." She grins mischievously, enjoying how the agent in front of her clenched her jaw.

Natasha intended for it to look like she indeed saw what you were wearing that day. You even told her to come to your place and find out even though she knew it was just a play to get something out of this criminal, only for the two of you to do nothing but investigate and investigate. She even bought wine! But since then you had made it clear to her, that you two cannot be a thing—that she's just a friend.

"Listen here, you twisted criminal," Natasha strided and grabbed Wanda by the collar of her prison suit, pulling her closer. "Try to disrespect her like that once again, you will never be back in your universe again."

Wanda laughed despite Natasha's threat. "In just one snap I can go through your mind and see the very not-so-respectful things your twisted brain has thought of doing to your boss," she spoke calmly, unfazed by Natasha's grip on her collar and how close their faces were to each other.

"Give me your boss or you'll get nothing from me."

ᱬ

You find yourself standing in front of a quaint, old-fashioned shop, nestled between two larger buildings. The sign above the door reads "Madam Calderu's Psychic Readings" in a flowery, Victorian script. As you push open the heavy wooden door, a bell chimes merrily, announcing your arrival. The shop is dimly lit, filled with an eclectic mix of incense burners, crystal balls on a small, round table.

Before you can take in your surroundings properly, you hear a sudden scream.

Your hand goes for your holster, gun drawn instinctively. The woman freezes, seeing the gun pointed at her. "Wait!" She throws up her hands, the shawl falling back to reveal a middle-aged woman with sharp features and piercing dark eyes. The woman's gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, it's as if she's peering right through you, seeing something that only she can comprehend. Her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a step closer, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper.

"You…"

Taking a deep breath, she forces a calming smile. "I apologize, dear. You just gave me quite the surprise. Please, have a seat. I am Madam Calderu."

Even though something about this feels off—hell, everything about this feels off, you holster your gun and take a seat at the nearest table. The smooth wood is cool to the touch, just like her hands when she places them palm-up on the table.

"What's your name, dear?"

Her eyes seem to pierce through you as she awaits your response. There's a strange intensity to her gaze, like she's trying to unravel the very fabric of your existence.

"Y/N…" you were about to get your badge to show her that you are a detective but she gently stopped you.

"Y/N, no need for that," She repeats softly as if she already knows what you really are.

The goosebumps you're feeling made you want to finish whatever this is. "I am here about Wanda Maximoff."

"Which one?" She asks, laying out a spread of cards you thought are tarot cards across the table.

"What? Wh-what do you mean which one? Hey I-I am not here for that." You rushed out, but she already flipped a card.

"The Fool. Bare…untouched, pure." You cringe slightly, what a nice way to say you are a virgin…which you truly are. "You are going to bring a new life."

"W-what?"

She turned to another card that was placed vertically. "The Hermit. You're in deep search for something. The Devil, upright. You are bound...constrained by circumstances beyond your control." Another card was flipped. "The Empress Meaning, upright. You are a vessel…meant to contain something immense, powerful. But you're unprepared. A fragile container for a force that could shatter you at any moment."

The last card made her eyes widened as she saw the image—a hanged man suspended upside down from a tree, with his right foot bound and his left foot free. "Someone is after you…" She mutters under her breath, then she looks at you who was in a deep frown, images of something red…a crown, something powerful flashed her mind that made her scream. You immediately took a hold of her hands with yours, as if you pulled her out of her nightmare, she stopped screaming but she was breathing hard.

"You wait here, young lady." She stood, shaking as she rushed from her seat disappearing through the string curtains.

The room grows silent again as you wait for Madame Calderu to return. Your phone suddenly rings, making you jump slightly. You pull it out, seeing Natasha's number.

"Romanoff."

"She wants you."

Realizing what she meant, you shifted on your seat in frustration. "Romanoff, I told you not to…" you didn't finish, sighing defeatedly knowing that scolding Natasha would get you nowhere. She had always been like this, stubborn and would sometimes go against you and your higher ups. "I'll be there." You say, ending the call and tucking the phone back into your pocket.

Madam Calderu came rushing back with a wooden rectangular sigil in her hand only to see a 20 dollar bill on top of the table.

You were gone.

ᱬ

"Y/N, I'm sorry." Natasha followed you behind as you strided toward the interrogation room. You have not been giving her any words or any blink of an eye as you arrived. And she has been apologizing, following you around like a lost puppy.

"I want you out of this case, Romanoff. This is not the only time you went against my orders." You say with finality before disappearing behind the door of the interrogation room, not wanting to hear any of her reactions.

You took deep breaths before you turned around and saw how the criminal had been staring at you. She was wearing a wolfish grin, elbows on top of the table while her cuffed hands together were in the air.

"How are you holding up?" You asked, much calmer like you were the first time.

"I'm good, detective." She said, simply. "I'm good now that you're here."

"I could say that." You quipped, making her let out a few chuckles that made your stomach flutter.

"I didn't like the attitude you have the last time we saw each other."

"Well, I didn't like how you didn't cooperate with me."

Wanda smirks teasingly, her black fingernails tapping against the metal table. "I missed you, detective," she purrs softly, her voice dropping an octave. She manspread her legs slightly under the table, unnoticed by you.

You respond in a neutral tone, your expression giving nothing away. "I could say that," you repeated, never breaking eye contact with the criminal.

She chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She leans forward slightly, the movement subtle yet intentional. "Didn't you miss me too?" She just threw you a bone, looking for a reaction—any reaction. She watches your face carefully, eyes picking up every tiny muscle twitch. She sees your jaw tighten slightly, your shoulders stiffen. She notes how you never left her gaze, how you keep your voice neutral and unreadable.

But then, you remained composed. Chuckling but you didn't give any response to her question, instead you answered with a question yourself.

"Wanda, have you had dreams?"

She frowned before huffing softly, but failed to hide the slight uptick in her lips. She leans back slightly, her gaze drifting away before slowly returning to meet yours.

"It's here, right in front of me."

As Wanda answered, a smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth draws Wanda's attention back to your face. She sees the genuine smile hiding behind the smirk, and it makes her pause. She's not used to seeing genuine smiles, especially not directed at her. Wanda's eyes linger on your smile, her gaze seeming to drink in the sight. She notices the way your indifference during the first interrogation melts away, replaced by something warmer. Something that makes Wanda's heart skip a beat.

"Have you lost someone?" You asked another question, much personal this time. But silence was the only answer you got back from Wanda. You expected for it to not work for now but you know that eventually, later on, you will get something out from her—you will make her say something.

"I used to have dreams, Wanda." When the words escape your lips, you see Wanda's eyes widen slightly, hanging onto each word. "I dream of my kids, and I dream about losing them every single time." You continued. Your dreams have become a nightly ritual, an obsession. Every night, you relive the same scene, sitting on the couch, surrounded by laughter, playful shouts and calls for you—their mommy. You're surrounded by your children, their faces blurry but their joy unmistakable. And then, next thing you know is you're awake in an empty bed, no signs of your children.

"Every time?" She asks, already knowing the answer.

You hesitate, then nod. "Like clockwork. I see them, hear them. They feel so real…" You trail off, smiling at the memories. "Then they're gone." You add softly, unconsciously wrapping your arms around yourself. Wanda swallows hard, her fingers twitching slightly. "It's funny because I don't even want kids, but after those dreams, when I wake up the first thing I expect to see is them beside me."

As she sits there, watching you wrestle with the ghosts of your dream children, she feels an unfamiliar pull. She's seen the same thing in her own dreams—blurry faces, laughter that turns to silence.

"Every night the same dream, every morning the same nightmare." She murmured under her breath.

For the first time since you've seen her, Wanda's mask completely slips.

"I can say the same, Y/N. I've lost people I loved…but I am here to get them back now."

Bingo.

Wanda blinks, momentarily taken aback as she watches you rise, a flicker of confusion passing over her face.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Wanda." You say before disappearing, leaving her alone in the cold room.

ᱬ

Later that night, as the prison settles into a quiet routine, you find yourself back at your apartment.

You pour yourself a glass of wine, the cool liquid sliding down your throat as you relax on your couch. This case has been tough, but tonight, you finally made a huge progress. She had opened up, shown emotion. You smile smugly to yourself, confident that tomorrow, with your newfound insight, you'll finally break the case wide open.

You finish your glass of wine, feeling tired. You've had a long day of investigating and interrogating. You let out a breath, your body relaxing as you slide into bed in your silk nightgown. You close your eyes, ready for sleep. But you felt dizzy. As the room spins around you, suddenly, unmistakably, you hear it—laughter. The clear, joyous laughter of children echoes through your darkened bedroom. Your eyes fly open, but the sound doesn't stop. It surrounds you, bouncing off the walls, growing louder.

Figures begin to take shape right before your eyes. Two boys—the same children from your dreams. They're laughing, their faces fully visible this time, and they're reaching out their little hands towards you.

"Mommy!" You laugh, reaching to them.

But then, in an instant their laughter turns cold, their smiles disappearing as they hiss, "Mommy, go away! Run, Mommy, run!" They push you back, their small hands shoving you towards the bed. You saw a glowing figure just outside your door, a woman with horns in her head—glowing red.

Your kids continued to scream, "Run! Mommy!"

Your heart was pounding in your chest, you wrapped your arms around your children, pulling them close. You can feel their small bodies shaking, mirroring your own fear.

"Mommy, go." The first boy whispered.

"You have to go now, mommy." The other one said.

But you didn't let go of them. The footsteps grew louder and the figure was just right beside your bed. Blocking out the light on the hallway of your room.

You jolt upright in bed, your nightgown damp with sweat. You pant, looking around your room. No children, no figure. Just you and your phone ringing loud.

"Y/N," Maria's voice is tight, "Wanda escaped. We don't know how but we need you here. Now."

"2800 Sherwood Street, Eastview." You rattled out. Your heart pounds in your ears as you stand still. "Maria, 616 is after 818's kids, she might be on her way to get them now. Target is the variant Wanda of Earth-616. Presumed armed and dangerous. Objective: Contain and capture." You stood, walking to where your closet is, "Eliminate if you have to." You ended the call swiftly, pulling on your tactical gear—bulletproof vest, cargo pants, combat boots out of your cabinet.

When you were about to get undressed, there was a figure that loomed over your room's doorway. You can't be wrong but it was the same figure you saw in your dreams just a while back. A woman with little horns, glowing red.

As you sweep the hallway, you think you're alone. But then, a movement catches your eye—a shadow darting between rooms. You turned around, gun raised, heart pounding. "Who's there?" You call out, voice echoing through the empty house. Then, a shadow appeared right at the end of your hallway and it started crawling to your direction. Without thinking, you spin around and dash back to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. You lock it immediately, and aim your gun straight at the door as you step back.

You felt an energy behind you so you whirl around, gun still pointed at the air, only to find yourself face to face with the towering figure. It looms over you, the red light pulsing violently. Your hands tremble slightly as you raise the gun higher, aiming at the center of the shadowy mass. You gasp, eyes widening as you recognize the features hidden beneath the glowing shadow.

"W-Wanda?" Your voice is barely a whisper.

Her blackened fingers extend, reaching to the gun aiming at her and it disappears in a flash of dark energy. Before you could react, she snapped and in an instant you were up in the air. An unseen force lifts you off the ground, suspending you in mid-air with an invisible restraint tying your feet and hands. You struggle, legs kicking uselessly as you float higher but her eyes glow with an intensity you've never seen before, almost burning with the red energy that surrounds her. She watches you like a predator eyeing its prey—calculated, intense, and completely focused.

"Miss me?"

"What are you doing?" You manage to choke out, heart is now hammering to get out of your chest as you stare into her glowing eyes. Her appearance is disturbing; she wears a crown that looks like horns, and a suit that looks like it was drenched in blood. The red energy seems to be seeping from her very pores. Her features are still beautiful, but twisted into something dark and terrifying.

"To get what I lost."

Your frown deepens as you process her words.

Then, a chill laughter escaped her lips. "I thought you already figured it out, detective," she says mockingly, her voice dripping with condescension. "You're supposed to be the smart one. The one who sees through every lie and unravels every mystery." She leans in closer, her face inches from yours as you elevate in the air. "But you've got it all wrong."

Your mind races, trying desperately to connect the dots. Your detective mind isn't working at the moment and she tilts her head, studying your baffled expression with cruel amusement. Her blackened fingers gently caress your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw. "You really don't get it, do you?" She murmurs, her touch icy cold. Her fingers started to caress your stomach. "Let me give you a hint...what's the same thing we lost every time we close our eyes?"

Your kids. Her kids.

You shake your head, trying to clear the confusion. "But…I-I don't have your kids, Wanda."

"Oh, you will." Her voice drops to a threatening whisper as she snaps her fingers again. In an instant, you find yourself falling backward onto your bed, the familiar indentation of your pillow against your head. Wanda begins to crawl up your body, her blackened fingers digging into the blankets, pulling her closer. Her face hovers above yours, her twisted crown casting ominous shadows on the walls. "Now, let's make them, shall we?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, praying desperately that this is all just a nightmare. But as Wanda's cold hands begin to roam over your chest, pulling the knots of your nightgown, you realize with a sinking heart that this is no dream. This is terrifyingly, undeniably real.

"Open your eyes."

A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air hits your bare skin. You have nothing under your nightgown, just your lacy panties. You're exposed, vulnerable, lying naked beneath her. She takes a moment to admire the sight, her red eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "I knew you're more beautiful without clothes," she murmurs, tracing a finger down your chest. She then squeezes them roughly, pinching your nipples between her fingers until you gasp in pain. Her other hand reaches up to grab your throat, squeezing tightly as she attacks your chest with a frenzy of kisses and bites.

You arch your back in pain as Wanda's cold hands maul your breasts, her fingers digging into your flesh like claws. Her hand around your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply as she nuzzles her face between your breasts, inhaling your scent deeply. Your body goes limp beneath hers. You spread your legs wider, letting her settle deeper between your thighs. Your arms lift up, wrapping around her neck possessively. You whimper softly as she bites down hard on your collarbone.

Her fingers slip beneath the lacy fabric of your underwear and immediately find their way inside your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, her skin so cold it burns against your sensitive flesh. She begins to move her fingers in and out of you brutally, ignoring your cries. She silences you with a brutal kiss, her cold fingers continuing their relentless assault on your insides. Her thumb finds your clit, pressing down hard as she forces another finger inside you. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate her blackened fingers, your body trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure.

You should be fighting, clawing, biting, anything to make her stop. Instead, you find yourself wrapping your legs around her waist, pulling her closer as she invades your cunt with cold, blackened fingers.

Letting her darkness in.

"Hng Wanda..." You whimpered.

She smirks wickedly as she hears you cry out her name, your pleasured gasps mingling with anguished moans. Her eyes glitter with cruel triumph. "Say my name again," she commands.

"W-Wanda…" You stuttered.

Then, she curled her fingers inside you agonizingly slow, hitting that perfect spot. "Louder."

"Fuck! Wanda!"

Just as you're about to release the coil on your stomach, she pulls her fingers out of you suddenly, leaving you gaping and empty. You whimper in protest, but before you can even process what's happening, she shoves two of her blackened fingers into your mouth instead.

"Suck."

Magic crackles in the air as Wanda presses her blackened fingers against your lips, demanding obedience. Shimmering sparks dance before your eyes before you reluctantly close them, submitting as your mouth envelops her fingers. The metallic taste of chaos magic and your wetness coats your tongue, making you shudder.

She pulls her fingers free from your mouth, leaving behind trails of dark magic. Kneeling between your legs, she lets you see the crimson strap-on secured around her waist—it looked so real, enchanted.

As you finally register what's happening, adrenaline shoots through your veins. Your body goes instantly rigid, eyes wide with realization and fear.

"No..." you whimper, trying to close your legs, but she holds them firmly open with her knees. The alarm bells in your mind scream to fight back.

With a cruel smile, she rips your delicate underwear to shreds, discarding the remains aside. She grabs your thighs tightly, spreading your legs as far apart as they'll go. The enchanted strap-on hangs between her legs, the chaos runes pulsing with dark energy.

"It's time to make what we lost."

She rubs the tip against your wet entrance, coating it with your arousal. You watch in horror as she throws her head back, moaning softly. "You're so tight, around my cock," she hisses, gripping your hips. Without warning, she snaps her hips forward, burying the entire length inside you brutally. She shushes your cries, her free hand caressing your cheek, kissing your forehead soothingly as she continues to brutally thrust the strap-on into you with each heartbeat. With every painful push, you let out a little whimper, your body trembling beneath hers.

"It hurts, Wanda…" you sobbed.

"I know, detka." She placed her forehead against yours before kissing them again, her thumb gently stroking your cheek as she continued to ravage you with the cock. "It's supposed to hurt." She murmurs against your forehead, "This pain will remind you who you belong to now." As she continues to brutally thrust into you, she starts to feel pleasure from the enchanted device. The chaos runes absorb your pain and convert it into dark energy, feeding into Wanda. She moans softly, nuzzling your face, "You're hurting so nicely…" The pleasure builds inside her, her hips snapping forward with increased force, the strap-on plunging deeper into your torn and stretched flesh. She buries her face in your neck, kissing and biting your skin as she chases her orgasm. "I'm going to cum inside you, my love."

All you can feel is the relentless pain, your body bruised and your pussy battered by her cock. But despite the agony, you nod dumbly, willing to take whatever she gives you. "Yes, Wanda," you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. "Please, please."

She presses a palm firmly against your stomach, feeling the prominent bulge of the strap-on inside you. "Feel that, detka? Feel how deep I am?" She pants harshly, her hips grinding against yours. "You'll be filled with my cum, marked from the inside out."

"Then, we will never lose them again."

"Please…I don't wanna lose them again, Wanda. Please, give me my kids. G-give me your babies."

Your statement throws her over the edge. She groans loudly, her body tensing as she forces her cock deep inside you, releasing wave after wave of hot, enchanted seed. The chaos runes pulse dangerously, filling your womb with dark energy.

She collapses onto you, panting heavily as she caresses your stomach, feeling the warmth of her release inside you.

"Our kids…" she slipped out of you. Making you whimper from the empty feeling. Then, her hand slowly trailed down to your pussy, feeling the wetness of her cum mixing with yours as she pushed it back inside you.

"We'll never lose them again."

ᱬ

You blinked groggily as you stirred awake in your bedroom decorated in a vintage 1950s style. A silky nightgown slips off one shoulder as you sit up slowly. You stare at the two boys beside you, your heart swelling with love. And your dear wife, Wanda lies in between them, her hand protectively resting on the boys' backs, a soft smile on her sleeping face.

Feeling you're moving away, Wanda calls out softly, stirring in her sleep. "Hey, mommy." She carefully removes her arms from around the twins, ensuring they don't wake up.

"Hey." You greeted back, groaning as you finally managed to stand. Wanda immediately rounded the bed to get to you.

"Mmm, good morning, my love." Before you can say a word, she leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips. She took your hands as she sat back on the bed. Then, blackened fingers slide down to your swollen stomach, you laugh, guiding her head as she leans down to kiss your bump.

"Good morning, little one," she coos. "We can't wait to meet you soon."

—

Author's Note: This was supposed to have an angsty ending but I remember promising someone here to write a Wanda fic w happy ending.

I just want to inform everyone that this might be the last fic I will be posting. I will be on hiatus since I have been missing school a lot due to health issues and I need to keep up and get back on track. Every series/fics of mine will be put on hold for a while, but I promise that the first thing I'll post when I get back are updates on them. I'll see you all around :)))

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie is aware that Steve is watching him.

It’s 2008, and Eddie is holding a baby, and Steve is watching him.

The baby, for the record, isn’t theirs.

No, Dustin and Erica finally decided to have one of their own after years, and so the whole rest of the Party had journeyed back to Indiana to meet the baby.

Eddie does like babies, to be clear. He’s discovered recently that it sometimes comes as a surprise that he likes babies, loves fatherhood.

He got some shit for it a while back at his high school reunion – “You just had to be the one to knock up Steve Harrington, huh?” Jeff had jokingly said – all well-intentioned, obviously, and sure, Eddie counts his lucky stars for a number of reasons, one of them definitely being that he gets to watch Steve in his final Dad form, but all-in-all people generally seem to be under the impression that Eddie had been dragged by Steve into the world of parenting. They never seem to consider that he might have wanted it just as much as Steve did.

Eddie gets it though. For people who don’t know him – people who only know him from his books, people who only know him from high school, people who don’t know the totality of who he is – it’s probably hard to imagine him being, like, all-in with the baby thing: cleaning spit-up, lugging a diaper-bag around everywhere, coordinating his life around interweaving nap schedules, the works. Again, he gets it. Even Eddie himself can acknowledge that his eighteen, nineteen, twenty-year-old self would be completely fucking baffled to see how comfortable he is holding a brand new baby (and he’d better be, considering he’s had three).

Steve and Eddie’s babies aren’t babies anymore. Their youngest, Hazel, is nearly three, and the older two are both in elementary school, and Eddie is pretty sure that their baby days are a thing of the past, hence why he’s trying to get his fix while there’s one available.

Steve is doing the same, or so it seems by the way he’s ogling Eddie from across Claudia Henderson’s kitchen. Eddie gives Steve a small smile even as he rolls his eyes because he knows that baby fever type of look, and he adjusts the way he’s holding the baby so he can free a hand to flip Steve the bird.

(Steve’s eyes flick to the arm still holding the baby, and Eddie gets the sense that he didn’t actually help his case at all).

A bit later, when Lucas came to reclaim his nephew, Eddie found Steve and sidled up behind him to wrap an arm around his waist.

“Hey,” he said, kissing the side of Steve’s neck, “Stop trying to impregnate me with your eyes, Harrington. You’ll offend the delicate sensitivities of Claudia’s dinnerware.”

“Shut up,” Steve shook his head, and then he said, “We should have another.”

“Another?” Eddie repeated, “Remind me again which one of us had a freakout when Hazel was born?”

“Uh, it was a minor freakout and purely situational,” Steve argued, “I said thirty years ago I’d be down for six and I stand by that.”

“Alright, we’ll see, big guy.”

[undercvrfan444]

Summary - Roomie Satoru walks in on you during some uh, intimate time!

WC - 2.5k

AN- Okay wait because if this post gets flagged like my other one i’m going to be so mad. Hopefully yall like roomie Satoru because I love him.

Two weeks have passed since your little episode with Satoru. Naoya was now a thing of the past after reading his rather uh…colorful texts he had left for you! And you were kind of thriving truthfully. 

Everyday life had seemingly gone back to the way it had been before you were sprawled out on your roommates bed, his tongue plunged deeper inside you than anyone else had ever been. So aside from his teasing growing dirtier with each passing day and his occasional “accidental” walk in on you changing or getting in the shower, he was still your same old roommate. 

Earlier this morning Satoru was called into work which left you with much valued and needed alone time thankfully. Now listen, you absolutely loved the silver haired man, but being sexually on edge each time he came around was antagonizing. You were constantly on your toes whenever he was close. A part of you was still embarrassed with the drunken activities you had partaken in, especially knowing there was a video of the whole ordeal. 

With your roommate leaving for a few hours you decided to take this time to just relax. Take a nice shower without worrying about him walking in, make a warm cup of tea to relax the tense muscles, and delve into whatever show you wanted knowing Satoru wouldn’t be in your ear making sly remarks. However, as time passed you grew somewhat bored of the silence. 

One thing led to another and you were scrolling on twitter, a hand lazily between your legs. Clicking on a video that seemed to pique you interest, the girl on screen screeched dramatically and honestly it turned you off more than anything. Swiping out of the video and scrolling a little more you finally get sick of the cheap rehearsed porn on your phone. 

Then, as if a little devil appeared on your shoulder, a thought drifted into place.  

You still had the video Satoru recorded for Naoya. Slowly you opened your photos app, scrolling up a little while your eyes scanned for the little white number indicating where the video was. 

Found it. 

Was it weird that you were watching a video of your own pussy being eaten alive? No. Because you weren't necessarily watching the video to see yourself, but rather to see that messy mop of white hair. To see how his jaw flexed with each passing line of his pretty pink tongue. It was hard not to be pulled in by Satoru, anyone that knew him couldn’t argue with how sex seemed to be emanating from him in everything he did. 

Clicking on the video you were immediately flooded with red hot embarrassment. Your own moans matched the girl who previously annoyed you. Satoru’s chest came into frame for a second before he laid the phone flat on the bed, giving a perfect angle of your weeping pussy and the even wetter man behind you. 

“So pretty baby, can’t believe how good this cunt tastes.” Velvety rich words flow out of the speakers making your core ache. You could feel heat rising to your fingertips and down to your toes, arousal blooming. As time went on, slick seemed to pour out of you as if your pussy remembered the way Satoru took care of her. Moans fell from your lips in breathy huffs followed by the broken syllables of Satoru staining the air. Caught in your own world, you fail to hear the jingle of keys unlocking the front door you roommate insists on being locked. Something about “pretty girls like you are taken advantage of all the time.”

His soothing voice calling out to you informing of his arrival home falling on deaf ears. Heavy footsteps make their way to the start of the hallway before he freezes, ears perking up. 

“Fu~ck! ‘Toru..” Muffled high pitched whimpers bounce off the walls from your room. A tent growing impossibly fast from Satoru cultivating a mental image of what’s going on behind your door. How lucky was he to come home in time to get a glimpse of the perverted things you do behind doors, there was no way he’d pass this up. 

There were many ways for Satoru to go about this. He could either 

A. Interrupt your little party and embarrass you 

or 

B. Let you embarrass yourself. 

He decided to go with B. 

Of course. Who would he be if he didn’t indulge himself in a harmless tease?

So despite his cock aching underneath his uniform, he knew the look on your face would be worth a little discomfort. A small smile plays on Satoru’s lips as he makes his way into the bathroom, turning the shower on and stripping down. If he was going to embarrass you then he’d pull out every weakness he had against you. 

Back in your room, you’d finally reached an orgasm. Legs shaking while your eyes drew back towards your skull with how hard sparks tingled against your bones. Ragged breaths heated the cool air of your room while you regained your composure. Slipping off of your bed and reaching for a pair of shorts you had previously discarded, you finally heard the water running in the bathroom. 

Your eyes widened at the thought of Satoru coming home and possibly hearing you. It takes a few seconds before you conjure enough courage to step into the hall and make your way into the kitchen. 

Attempting to push away the horrifying thoughts of being heard, you open the fridge doors and rummage for something to drink. 

Satoru steps into the kitchen with a slightly damp towel hanging loosely on his shoulders and a pair of black shorts on. He smelt strongly of his soap, delicious herbal musk with hints of saccharine notes. Strands of wet hair curled nicely against his head while his undercut peaked through softly. 

“Oh hey!” 

You jump at his sudden chirp of voice, spinning to see a beautiful grin on his features. Swallowing thickly you move to lean against the island separating you two. “Hey. When did you get home?” 

Internally you wanted to cringe at how stupid you sounded, quite the opposite to Satoru who was beaming so bright you swore you could see light seeping through his pores. “A few minutes ago. Yaga let me leave early after dealing with a couple curses and bratty kids.” 

Nodding along, you take a swig of the cold water you fished from the fridge. The conversation dies as Satoru makes his way behind you, mimicking your earlier actions and finding something to drink. Your heart beat lurched against their confines beneath your ribs so hard it felt as though you might burst.

Before you get the opportunity to turn around, Satoru pressed his chest against your back. His legs finding their way between your own while he slots his chin on your shoulder, lips brushing against the sensitive skin below your ear. His hands press against the fatty part of your hips as they slowly squish into the countertop, hinging so that your face is flush with the cool marble below. 

“S-Satoru?” 

The man pecks gentle kisses down the column of your throat, leaning in with his hips to press his erection against your ass. “Is this what you imagined?”

Quiet whines float up into Satoru’s ears. Your elbows bend softly to keep yourself upright against the island. The air is dizzy between you, Satoru’s strong smell offering a familiar comfort you cling to in the tense moment. 

“What?”

Low rumbles of laughter erupt from behind you. “Don’t play dumb with me baby, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” His lips latch on to a few spots on your neck leaving blooming bruises in their wake. 

Humiliation was all you could feel. Unadulterated humiliation and…arousal. Satoru was so warm pressed against you it was impossible for you not to rut back against him. The thin fabric of your shorts did nothing to block his prying hands. All it took was a tug or two and you felt the clothing item slip down your legs. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” two thick fingers slip against your slit, teasing the already puffy hole. “You sounded so beautiful. The way you said my name would make any man go crazy.” 

Filthy squelch’s echo in the kitchen from where Satoru plays with your gooey folds. His abs flex against your clothed back, the older tshirt doing nothing to deter his advances. Any other time than now you would appreciate how strong your roommate was, all rippling muscles completely at your disposal. From your low lying position on the counter you can’t see any of Satoru’s actions, only feel them. 

Squeezing a clammy hand against your mouth, whatever schoolgirlish whine or moan that threatens to come out is muffled quickly. Sinking a long digit past the swabs of slick dripping down your thighs, Satoru can’t help but push the shirt he’d given you up your waist to expose more of your eager body below. “Why aren’t you speaking baby? You’ve got such a sharp tongue until I’m knuckle deep in your pussy.” 

Shaking your head, you can’t help but push back onto the wall of man behind you. Your pussy is still sensitive from the last orgasm so any touch is amplified. “It’s embarrassing! Just..stop talking.” 

A loud “tch” rings in your ears. “Embarrassing? Awe, how come?” 

Satoru slips another finger past your gummy ring of muscles, scissoring the two digits in a slow deep rhythm that has you leaning forward in an attempt to find a way for his fingers to plunge further within you. 

“Toru please! Don’t start with the teasing like last time. If you’re going to fuck me then do it already!” Your words come out in a shrill breathy whine. To be completely honest you’re not sure if you’d be able to take Satoru’s incessant teasing once more. Here you were, stretched over the kitchen counter while you gushed over your roommate's fingers and all he could do is act like a dickhead! 

Your pleas are music to his ears. 

You feel his touch slip away from your lower body, instead being used to push his own shorts down. Low groans vibrate in your shoulder from where Satoru latches onto the soft skin for an anchor. You might be needier, but Satour was right there with you. Craning your neck to look back, your met with a core achingly intimidating sight. 

He was huge. Both in length and sheer girth. Breaths get stuck in your throat when you feel his cockhead nudging at your clit in rough pumps, the bulbous tip hard against your red puffy lips. You wiggle your hips the best you can in this situation, toes barely skimming the cool wood floor of the kitchen. 

Inch by girthy inch, your pussy is fed with Satoru’s cock. “Oohh fuck baby, I haven’t even put it all in and your already clamping down on me.” Softly he slides his body against yours, leaning down to trail sloppy kisses mixed with nips over the curve of your shoulder. 

A deliciously burning sensation tingles as each thrust of Satoru’s hips pull gasps out of you. You’ve never been this full, ever. Finding a grip on the counter was a struggle. Each relentless slam of Satoru’s hips leave your body jerking forward, dragging your pebbled nipples against the sealed surface. “Feels like y’r gonna tear me apart ‘toru! Sl-ah! Slow down!” 

Satoru’s hips slap against your ass in unforgiving waves. The spongy spot buried deep in your cunt getting abused with each bite from his leaky tip. “Slow down?” Moving one of his hands down between your legs, his fingers latch onto your clit and roll the nub around between the pads of his finger tips. 

“No, I don’t think so baby. Remember that you -ngh-asked me for this.” A shit eating grin forms on Satoru’s perfectly straight teeth. A pack of wild horses could stampede through the kitchen and it still wouldn’t deter Satoru from fucking you silly on his cock. For months, uh uh fuck that, YEARS, this man has minded his manners and let you go about your sad relationships. Now that you were right where he wanted you there was a better chance of hell freezing over than him letting you tap out. 

The longer you struggle to find a grip on the counter, the harder Satoru’s thrust become. Like some pussydrunk teenager he becomes absolutely ruined by the sight of your ass jiggling against him. With each passing moment you can feel an orgasm building ferociously in your belly, that same spot you swear the male behind you fucks into. “Pl-please ‘toru. Not like this.” 

Luckily for you, he knew exactly what you meant. Pulling out of our your fucked out cunt, Satoru pulls you into him for support. Carefully he lifts you up until your back is stuck to the counter and he can wrap your ankles around his waist. “That what you want baby? Hmm?” Stars dance behind your eyes as the slippery feeling of Satoru’s dick realigns itself between your pussylips one more time. Leaning down to kiss you, the older man locks your lips with his in a strangely soft kiss while he spreads your walls apart. 

Lewd squelches erupt between your legs, louder now than before. Your previously shy orgasm is now raging through your muscles before you get a chance to say anything. Stark white blinds you as Satoru swallows whatever sounds arise from your throat, his hands hold your hips down on the marble to keep you in place as he chases a high of his own 

“S’toru! I-” 

“Shh I know baby, m’ right here. Give it to me pretty.” 

Wave after wave of euphoric pleasure crash over the two of you, bodies melded together with the sticky sap like slick from your pussy mixed with sweat. The world falls away around you for the entirety of your come down. Satoru being the only thing keeping you tethered to the world and him wanting nothing short of that role. 

Heavy pants mix together in hot breaths that fan over your chest like a warm blanket. Satoru pulls his achy cock away from the gluey entrapment between your legs causing a small pout to force its way onto your face. He giggles cutely, leaning down to peck a kiss on your damp forehead before searching for both of your clothes. Before he can put your shorts on he takes a rather long look between your legs, a mixture of both yours and his cum leaking down onto the counter; pooling. 

Without another thought Satoru reaches into his shorts pocket to pull his phone out, snapping a picture for safe keeping. “Think the neighbors heard?”

“Shut up and help me get clean. This is so gross I don’t think I can ever eat off the counter again.”

[healedlover]

7 MINUTES IN PARADISE

summary: the business trip that changed everything. pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader cw: fluff, p in v, make out sesh, virgin nanami, masturbation, fingering, creampie a/n: neednanamisofuckingbadly no one understands. sorry if this is sloppy help I dont mean to write this much,,, ngl I have mixed feels ab this helplppl ++ not proof read

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

working for money was something nanami strived for, he needed the money no matter what–no distractions on achieving his goal whatsoever.

that was until you came along.

-

as a new worker in the company, all you ever cared about was having fun. you were the one who would talk to everybody.

except nanami.

he was difficult to talk to, it wasn't just because of his looks or anything, but also the fact that, literally nobody–besides the boss, talks to him.

you thought he was intimidating at first, which is why you never intentionally tried to talk to him. but after observing how he reacts with the environment around him, you thought he wasn't that bad.

so you tried to speak to him for the first time.

and failed, miserably.

the conversation went off exactly how you expected:

"hey kento, how're you doing?"

"good."

"that's nice, want to go out sometime?"

"I'll think about it."

he never thought about it.

as expected, you befriended everyone except him. but you were going to try everything in your power to win him over.

after work you would notice he stays for a bit longer, so you decided to stay for a bit longer too, trying to build up the courage to speak to him when granted, but yet again, failed.

he would always stay hours after work and it was getting tiring so you gave up trying to talk during work hours, and instead on break.

during break, nanami would go to a bakery near by the company, and it was always the same one. he would even walk out with the exact same thing, bread.

with that little knowledge of knowing he likes bread from that specific bakery, you decided to buy him a piece of bread before he got the chance to.

with the bag of bread in your hand, you rushed back to the building and made your way to the elevator. you stood in front of it waiting for it to open and with a bing the elevator opened up.

you sigh and walk inside the crowded secluded space, your body meshing in with everyone else's as the bag in your hands crinkled between everyone. you patiently wait for the seconds to go by and finally...

bing

the elevator stops to a halt and you rush out, walking back to your office room. when you stepped inside you urgently looked for nanami and once you found him you made your way towards him.

"hey kento."

nanami looked up from his computer and mumbled a little hello. with an awkward giggle you fidget the bag in your hands and quickly give it to him.

nanami glanced at the bag of the now squished up bread and chuckled softly,

“thank you.”

you notice a glimpse of a smile appear on his face and you thought this was progress already, you nod and walk back to your seat, waiting for the little break time to end.

when your break ended, your boss interrupted everyone, he told everyone that there will be a business trip and you had to go with whoever he chose.

you opened the email and was met with a huge list of names, as you were scrolling a small part of you hoped you were with nanami and your gut instincts were right, or was it fate?

grinning at your screen you didn’t notice a presence behind you, until someone cleared their throat, you turn around to see nanami glaring down at you with no expression.

“I’d like your number if that’s okay, for the trip of course.”

“sure.”

you give nanami your number and he nods, heading back to his seat. you decide to research more about the place you two were going to, which was Malaysia.

-

once work was over, nanami started packing his things, he noticed the bread still on his table but also felt his heart skip a beat, that was odd? he never felt like this for anyone before.

he hesitantly picked up the bread and left the building.

on his way home he couldn't help but feel a burning sensation in his heart and all over his body. he tried to ignore the feelings but for some reason his mind was only thinking about you, at that moment.

after a long walk he finally made it to the front door of his place, he fumbled the keys out of his pocket and finally, unlocked the door. nanami walked inside his place and shut the door behind him.

he had barely made it to the kitchen and already felt like he was going to explode, he gripped onto the wall and fumbled the belt of his pants.

"damn it!"

nanami finally got the belt unbuckled and dropped his pants immediately. he brought his hands under his boxers and pulled out his soaking length and grazed his thumb over the tip.

"fuck...mgh..yo-you.." nanami whimpered as his movements grew quicker, and more intense, he let go of the wall and grabbed onto the bread, a little bit of your fragrance lingering on it, he clutched onto the wrapper and held it against his nose.

he felt like a horny teenage boy all over again.

his vision started to go blurry as he was reaching near release, he knew this was wrong, the fact he had only been avoiding you to strive for what he's doing work for, completely took a 180.

"fucking hell, what am I gonna do on the trip."

nanami sighed and rested against the kitchen counter before getting up and cleaning himself. when he got cleaned and ready, he brought out his laptop and started working on his remaining work.

he got seated on his bed and rested his laptop in front of him, and before he could start anything his phone started ringing.

a tried groan slipped out of his lips and he walked over to his phone, a number he didnt recognize was on the line and he hesitantly picked up the call.

"hell-"

"hi kento!" your loud voice blared through the phone, nanami held back a chuckle and greeted you back, he made his way back to the bed as your questions started to pile up more and more.

why was he already comfortable with you?

it had barely been a whole 24 hours and he already felt better when you started talking to him.

he should've talked to you from the start.

"–so...do you know?"

"ah, know what? sorry."

"when the trip is? I cant find it anywhere."

"it should be in two days, we don't have work tomorrow, so the day after that should be when the trip is. I'll start packing soon."

"I'll start packing now, see you later!"

"wait–never mind, have a goodnight."

"goodnight, kento."

nanami's room, which was once echoed with the sound of your voice, was now filled with complete silence, he was so close, so close, to asking to talk longer but his stupid voice decided to just say goodnight.

he rested his head against the headboard of his bed and stared at the empty contact on his phone, should he make you a contact? or is that too early for that? many thoughts started to fill his mind and he didnt know what was going on, what is this feeling?

he decided to ignore these thoughts and put his phone aside, finishing up his work for the night.

the next morning nanami woke up earlier than usual, he didnt have work today and the first thing he thought about was texting you a little good morning message, or is too early in the morning for that? all he was wondering was what you were doing right now.

nanami sat up on the bed and quickly stretched for a minute before finding his suitcase to start packing, since they were going to malaysia he wanted to grab something nice.

he opened his closet and was met with a bunch of suits and bland clothes. sighing, he dug deeper and eventually found a few reasonable outfits and started to pack his things.

minutes passed and he was almost finished packing, he just needed to pack a few more things, which he was planning to do later, and decided to sit back and wait for the time to pass.

a few hours passed and nanami did nothing but sit on the couch and daydreamed all day, he got no texts from you and it was way past the morning to send a good morning text. nanami kept glancing at his phone praying any seco–

brrrring

nanami sat up immediately and accepted the call, he breathed in silence as he waited for you to speak first.

"hey kento, I was wondering whos going to drop us off at the airport?"

"I'll check, send me your address though, we could meet there."

"okay!" you exclaimed, nanami smiled at your excitement and prayed the time would go by any quicker, he heard shuffling on the other side of the phone and assumed you were getting ready, and waited.

when the shuffling and loud noises calmed down nanami took a deep breath.

"so, what are we going to do there?"

"anything you want." you reply, a hint of teasing lingered in your voice and nanami swore he heard it like that. as nanami tried to hold himself back from getting off at you just replying to his question, he decided to keep the conversation going by asking a bunch of random questions he did not care about the answer for.

-

it had been almsot 3 hours since you and nanami have been talking on the phone, and your plan of befriending him worked out, somehow, it was weird how he was very distant and less responsive at the start but now, he was the one taking initiative on talking to you first.

you and nanami were wrapping up the final conversation before going to bed, you wanted to wake up early for this trip and be ready for when nanami comes over to go to the airport together.

with a final goodbye you ended the call and your house filled with dead silence, once again. you sigh, getting ready in bed and drift off to a slumber.

the next morning you were awoken by your blaring alarm, you sigh and start to get ready until you hear the doorbell ring. awaken now, you stumble towards the door and fling it open, just to be met with a gorgeous sight of nanami.

"oh, I just woke up, come in." you mumble, opening the door wider for nanami to enter in, nanami chuckled at your tired state and placed his bags near the entrance.

"sorry, I woke up early and couldn't wait."

"its okay, ill go get ready then we will get goi–"

"I'll wait." nanami interrupted.

"sure. I need to get changed though."

nanami nodded and you went back to your room and brought out a random outfit. you quickly get changed and head to the bathroom to do your daily things. when you finished getting ready you walked out of your room and nanami looked at you, a glint of light shining in his eyes as he stared down at your outfit.

"lets go?"

"mhm, c'mon." Nanami said, picking up his suitcase and walked out of the house and noticed the taxi was waiting at the driveway.

you dragged your suitcase against the floor and followed him out of the house, making your way to the back of the taxi to put your things in the trunk.

an hour and a half passed and in that hour and half, you and nanami got through security, bag checks and everything that was needed to be checked before waiting at the gate.

currently, you both were sitting at the gate, waiting for your plane to be called and all you were doing was just asking him a bunch of questions, and of course, he answered all of them.

one answer stuck out to you and its how he always wanted to go to Malaysia, so it must be a coincidence then?

your gate got called soon and you both boarded the plane.

hours passed and after a long dreadful plane ride you both finally made it to Malaysia. you both step out of the plane and head over to baggage pickup.

you both got to the hotel and nanami plopped on the bed, absolutely tired from the flight the two of you just had. you watched as nanami's breathing was steady and he seemed more, happy?

you sat on the bed next to him, and nanami's fingers rested on your thighs, he stroked small patterns and you winced as his fingers start going lower.

nanami sat up from the bed and stared at you, a hint of something different–an emotion you couldn't decipher–filled in his eyes, nanami leaned in closer, his lips inches away from yours.

"may I?" he whispered.

you give him a quick nod and he chuckled before capturing your lips into a passionate kiss, his fingers grabbed onto your face as he pulled you closer than before. he pushed his tongue inside your mouth and made contact with yours, intertwining them together.

he pulled away moments later, breathing heavily as he stared into your eyes with the emotion you didn't recognize at first;

desire.

nanami's tongue darted to your neck as he planted small kisses along it going lower, and lower, he nipped at your collarbone before he swiftly removed your top with his large fingers.

with your shirt falling to your sides, you watch nanami as you wait for his next moves, he stares down at your figure and continues to play and tease the rest of your clothes on your body, before finally removing them.

he scoffed, scoffed at how good you looked and why he hadn't talk to you earlier, it was dumb. but he needed you, at that moment, immediately.

nanami's cold fingers glided across your body, he slipped his fingers between your hard, perked nipple and lightly pinched at it, a whimper escaping your lips before he continued touching lower.

"this is...my first time." nanami mumbled.

"is it? you act like you've done this before?"

"If I mess up, just tell me, okay?"

you nod and his finger rubbed against your clit, he continued that motion for a few seconds before he slid a finger inside you. the feeling of his finger fitting perfectly in your already soaking cunt.

his fingers danced in the same movement before slipped another finger inside you.

"does it feel good? hm?"

"yes..ngh..good-sooo good..." the last words trembling out of your lips, this felt way too good for his first time, you wondered how it would feel if it was his cock next.

"mor–m' gonna cum" your back arched as he continued his movements, going quicker than before, he was watched your every move and never took his eyes off of you, nanami nodded and slipped his fingers out of you.

"don't cum yet, can you do that?"

"yes." you responded, already needing more. nanami stood up from the bed and placed himself between your legs, he grabbed onto his belt and unbuckled it in a quick movement.

his pants dropped to his feet and you could see his hard cock, seeping through his tight boxers. when he slid off his boxers you were met with an even more gorgeous sight.

your eyes widened at his size and nanami leaned in closer.

"wrap your legs around me."

you do.

"tell me if it hurts, its my first time too."

"oka–mmph"

nanami barely had his tip in and it already felt like too much, you close your eyes shut as the sensations start to rise. he pushed himself deeper into you, a moan escaping his lips inch after inch.

"it feels...sooo...need more." Nanami groaned and grabbed onto your hips and continued thrusting himself into you like there was no tomorrow.

"slo–d-down."

but he wasn't slowing down at all.

"kento-"

"m' so close, m' so close...please, please let me cum inside you."

you moan in response, too dazed by the best sex you probably ever had, you didnt care what nanami did. he continued to hold onto you as his thrusts quickened and his moans grew louder.

"I need more, please.." he begged in a low whisper, you grab onto his arm and he wrapped his other arm around your neck, holding you close before white beads spurted inside you. the feeling sending shivers down your spine.

nanami gasped in shock and he carefully pulled away, his face flushed by probably the best first-time sex he's ever had. his eyes averted from your face to your leaking hole, spilling with all of his cum.

nanami glided his finger across the mess and slid a finger inside you, taking out all of his cum, you whimper as he digs deeper, slipping out every last drop.

"come on, lets get cleaned up."

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

sorry

[jessica-meats]

This is a bit of a long thread but the bit that made me laugh was the description of querying agents as easy. "It's like an easier form of job-hunting because all you're submitting is a cover letter for your book." This tells me that the person writing this reblog has not submitted a book.

You don't have to submit just a cover letter. Most agencies want a cover letter. They also want the first few chapters/a specific number of words from the start of the book - this is fine because you've already written it. Then they want a synopsis. And this is where it gets complicated, because summarising your book in a way that gets the important information across is difficult, but also because it feels like no two agencies want exactly the same thing. Some will want a 1000 word synopsis, or a 1500 word synopsis, or a 500 word synopsis. Some measure by page counts and want a 2-3 page synopsis, or a 1 page synopsis. And so on.

And sometimes they ask for different levels of details. When I was looking up places to send one of my words, one website's submission information said that the synopsis needed to contain "every twist and turn" of the plot, and the very next website I looked at said, using the same phrase, that they didn't need to know "every twist and turn".

You have to write about ten different synopses to cover all the bases.

And then some of them ask for an author bio, or a bibliography of your other previous work, or something else like that as well. You have to tailor your submission to every single agency because they're all ever so slightly different and that is time-consuming and frustrating as hell.

Then you have to figure out which agents to send your book to, because most agencies are specific about the genres and age ranges they're interested in. Often, you have to submit to a specific agent within the agency, so you have to figure out which one is going to most likely be interested.

And sometimes, you think you've found someone who's list of what they're looking for lines up perfectly - and then you click to find out how to submit to them and it says they're closed for submissions.

And as for working with editors, quality varies. I've worked with a couple of great editors. The editor I had for Wolf Unleashed was fantastic. His feedback was helpful and clear and shaped the book into a polished version of the story I had in mind. Then there was the copy-editor who worked on one of the books of the Shadows of Tomorrow trilogy who was terrible and actually introduced grammatical errors into the text. Things like putting the apostrophe in the wrong place in plural possessive cases and muddling up "past" and "passed". I had to write to the publish and point out these mistakes and demand that they get a different copy editor to go over the book again.

And even when you think things are going well and you've got success, something can come along and blindside you. I had a novella A Monster's Kindness accepted by Less Than Three Press (a small LGBTQ+ focused publisher) and I was really excited. They worked with me on edits and created a cover for the book - and then the publisher sent out an announcement to all the authors that the publisher was going out of business. This was about a month before my book was due to be published.

The original message of this video can be summed up as "A book can be great and still be rejected" and "Even if you're rejected a bunch, it doesn't mean it's a bad story." That is encouraging. That's not rage bait. That's reassuring to people who are in the process of collecting a huge pile of rejection letters.

The whole "we don't know if this should be YA or adult" is something that happened to me with my first book. I had two agencies state that as the reason for rejecting me.

And they were the ones who gave me a reason. There are several agencies I've submitted to that basically say "we don't reply to everyone; if you don't hear from us within X weeks, assume you've been rejected." A lot of places just give a generic, copy/paste "your book did not meet our needs" response.

If you are a writer trying to get your work traditionally published, "don't tie your self-worth into whether you're getting offers," is a fantastic piece of advice. Because sending your work on submission sucks. And even when someone says yes, it's not guaranteed to lead to success, or even a published book.

When my first book was published, I was doing a lot of promotional legwork (because the first reblogger on this thread is not correct about the publisher doing all the promotion either) and I went to a school careers day to talk about being an author. The advice I gave to those kids was not dissimilar to the advice at the end of this video. I told them to have a backup plan with a more stable form of income, because making money from being a published author is uncertain and unpredictable.

Some truths about the publishing industry because I certainly got blindsided when going in. Now I'm so broken by this industry I struggle to encourage aspiring writers lmao

[captain-huggy-bear]

Um, was writing a fic, had a thot, this is my explanation why sometimes Clayton seems to only wear one chain and other times two... Thot: Clay giving you one of his chains, hence why he now only wears the cross. Possessive little thrill going through him because you never take it off and that's his. 18+ MDNI: Possessive Clayton because I would set Feminism back 100 years for him...but I know he wouldn't ask me to.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It starts as a little thought, a little thought that grows until he can't get it out of his head. Niggling at him, goading him, following him everywhere he goes until it's not so little anymore, until it's large and loud and far too proud for what it is.

Just a little thought he has when he's leaning over you, your legs tight around his hips while thrusts into you, hips pressing into your own, sweat beating on his forehead. Just a little thought as one of your hands reaches up and grasps as his chains like they were made to be tugged on, pulling until he slants his mouth over yours in an all consuming kiss that's harsh and hungry. Just a tiny little thought that one of his chains would look so fucking good on you, that it would be so good to see you wearing his chain, showing everyone who you belonged to. That it would look so good round your throat while he fucked you, even better if he tugged on it the same way you do now.

That little thought spirals out of control. Your neck looks so bare without it, cold and lonely, a blank canvas. His marks aren't enough, the hickeys littering your skin not enough of a claim staked. It has him taking off the plain chain he wears, leaving his cross around his neck, and slipping it around your neck one evening after he's cum inside you, when the two of you lay there coated in sweat, chests heaving. Has him caressing the length of white gold against your skin and while yellow gold is your preferred colour he knows, can already tell, you'll never take it off.

It looks so fucking good on your skin, his chain around your neck, almost as good a look as when his hand gets to rest there, but better in some ways. Better because it's always there. You don't take it off. It's on when you shower, it's on when you sleep, you wear it all day every day. Every man who looks at you sees his chain. Every time you reach for it he knows it reminds you of him. He's with you whether he's there or not and it strokes a possessive sort of need in him to see you covered in him from head to toe.

It's only made worse when you combine it with a jersey with his name across the back, number 9 big and bold on the back and both arms, Keller in bold font that's unmistakable. You come to one of his games like that, jersey on, chain visible around your neck, cutesy little skirt on and big boots and it's not his fault he can't wait till you get home to get his hands on you. Not his fault that he pulls you into a little cleaning closet to bend you over and pull that skirt up, not his fault his hand finds that chain, tugging just a touch and makes you keep the jersey on so he can stare at his name across your back.

He wants to think you don't realise, wants to believe you're so innocent in this whole thing, oblivious and ignorant of the effect you have on him, but that is so far from the truth. You've seen the way his eyes darken, heavy lidded and blown out at the sight of the chain around your neck, at his jersey on your back. You know what you're doing and you'll keep doing it because you love being his, being consumed by him as much as he's consumed by you.

The only way to make it any better is a ring around your left ring finger, one more pieces of jewellery that screams to Clayton 'mine'.

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: WHO ARE YOU GONNA DATE NEXT? ᯓ★

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

I. II. III.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

Get your own super detailed, in-depth personalized paid reading from me HERE! it would really help me out!😊🦋

My KO-FI link: HERE🫶🏻

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

⋆✴︎˚⋆ Pile I

OH- OHHHHHHHHH (I HAD to do this🤓) The moment I flipped these cards, I had to take a deep breath because WOW this spread is screaming romance, romance, ROMANCEThe energy here? Soft, dreamy, emotionally available, and actually willing to communicate their feelings like a functioning adult. (Shocking, I know.) This is the kind of person who has main character energy, but not in an obnoxious "look at me" way—more like a "low-key mysterious but actually an absolute sweetheart who accidentally makes people fall in love with them" type. They are also giving ‘hopeless romantic with a heart of gold’ vibes, but also kinda shy and dorky at times.

They’re deeply in touch with their emotions, thanks to all this Cups energy, which means they feel things deeply. We’re talking someone who sends you “thinking of you” texts just because, who remembers tiny details about you that even you forgot, and who probably makes killer playlists based on your mood. (OML😭) They might even be the type to write poetry or play an instrument. (If this person owns a guitar and has ever strummed it while looking out of a window dramatically, I will scream.) They’re also super romantic. They believe in love. Like, BELIEVE believe. They’re not out here for some casual nonsense; they’re here for the feels. If they’ve been hurt before, they’re still hopeful and open to love instead of being bitter. (We love emotional maturity.) Physically i am seeing doe-eyed, soft-smiling, artistic cutie vibes. BABE. BABE. This relationship is so soft, so wholesome, so emotionally fulfilling. You know how in movies there’s always that one couple who makes everyone else sick with how adorable they are? Yeah, that’s y’all (i’m really NOT jealous) . They’re also a partner in every sense of the word meaning they work with you, not against you. This is the type of relationship where you two build something real—where there’s growth, teamwork, and a deep friendship underneath all the romance. If you’re struggling, they’re there to support you. If they’re struggling, you’ll actually know about it because they communicate. (A rare species, truly.) They’re most prolly a Water sign/ has strong water placements or just very emotionally intuitive. If you have someone with these placements around you, then this is your sign.  3 out of 4 cards are cups so i believe Y’all might bond over something artistic—music, painting, poetry, photography, film, something that requires emotions to create.They fall fast and hard—so if you’re used to people who are distant or confusing, this is gonna feel like a whole new world. This is the kind of love that feels like a warm hug after a long day—safe, sweet, and real. 

this person is a walking green flag. Soft but passionate. Romantic but stable. Playful but serious about love. This is the kind of relationship that feels safe and exhilarating at the same time—like home, but with butterflies. If you’ve been manifesting someone emotionally available, thoughtful, and ready to go all in for you…well, here they come. Oh, and one last thing—the fact that three out of four cards are Cups? That’s no accident. This person is MEANT to stir up your emotions and bring you into a deeper love experience. It’s not just about dating; it’s about feeling something real again.

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

⋆✴︎˚⋆Pile II

First off, this person? Chaotic. But like, in the best way possible. The Fool and Page of Cups together are giving ✨ golden retriever energy ✨ with just a sprinkle of emotionally confused poet vibes. They’re the type to send you ten unhinged TikToks at 2 AM with no explanation and then disappear for three hours because they had an existential crisis. They’re playful, optimistic, and have this lowkey naive, wide-eyed way of looking at life, but don’t be fooled—Strength is here, meaning they know how to handle their emotions. They just choose to exist in this dreamy, slightly reckless way.  I’m getting someone with a youthful look, no matter their actual age. Soft features, expressive eyes that basically scream “I have deep thoughts but I get distracted by cute dogs”, 

Okay, so, Page of Cups and 7 of Swords? Babe… this is giving situationship that could turn into a masterpiece or a disaster, depending on how you play it. There’s gonna be a lot of dreamy, flirty, almost cinematic moments where you’re both caught up in the fantasy of each other. But here’s the thing— with 7 of Swords meaning there’s a hidden element to this person. Not necessarily in a bad way, but you might feel like they’re holding something back. Strength is telling me you might end up being the one keeping this relationship stable—because this person? Yeah, they’re fun, romantic, and spontaneous, but they need someone who grounds them. Otherwise, they’ll float off into whatever alternate reality they live in. You might find yourself teaching them how to actually deal with their feelings instead of turning everything into an inside joke or a quirky monologue.

This connection? It’s got potential. I am getting ‘JUST KISS ALREADY’ vibes from this spread so many times. But also, This person might have commitment issues at first, or they just don’t realize when they’ve caught feelings. This relationship will be fun, unexpected, and maybe a little messy at times. You’ll never be bored, but you might have to decide if you’re willing to wait for them to fully step up and be emotionally present. If you do? This could turn into one of those soulmate-tier love stories that start off as chaotic best friends and then evolve into something real. This person is gonna make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, and you’re gonna make them feel like home. Just make sure they don’t get lost in the clouds before they realize what they have with you. 

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

⋆✴︎˚⋆Pile III

Picture someone who walks into a room and the air literally shifts—not in a dramatic, "I’m better than you" way, but in that "damn, why does this person feel like a wish come true?" kind of way. The Star as the headliner of this spread? BABY, this person is ethereal. 

They’ve been through their fair share of life lessons—some of them painful as hell—but instead of becoming bitter, they’ve transmuted all that pain into wisdom and grace. (Honestly, teach me your ways, mysterious heartthrob.) They’re a dreamer, but not the delusional kind. I have a strong feeling that pile 3 already know their person at the very least, they’re connected to your past in a really poetic way. The 6 of Cups is screaming, "This ain't no random fling—this is destiny, baby!" There’s a familiarity about them, like the feeling of revisiting your childhood home after years of being away. There’s also a chance that this person is deeply sentimental—they might keep old love letters, hoard little trinkets from meaningful moments, or be the type to remember the exact date you first texted them "lol" and took it as a sign from the universe. They’re a romantic, but in a quiet, "let me show you, not just tell you" kinda way.

Physically? ELEGANT. LUXURIOUS. GOURGEOUS. 10/10. I also have the feeling that for some of you, this person might be quite rich as well. They could be successful or at least super stable and independent, but there’s something soft and sentimental about them, like they love deeply but don’t fall easily. One thing i would say that they don't fall easily. 4 of Pentacles is telling me that they guard their heart like a bank vault. Not in a "toxic, emotionally unavailable" way, but in a "I don’t just give my energy to anyone—I need to be sure" kinda way. They might be financially stable or working towards major success, so they protect what they’ve built. At first, they might be reserved, taking their sweet time to open up, but once they do? BABY, THEY’RE ALL IN. Slow-burning but SO rewarding. This is the kind of love that feels like déjà vu, like you were meant to find each other.  And the thing is, you’re worth the risk to them. Your connection makes them feel safe enough to let go of their tight grip on control. This isn’t a surface-level situationship—this is intentional, slow-burning, "I want to build something real with you" love.

(Also, be ready for someone who spoils you subtly—not in a flashy, Gucci gifts every day kinda way, but in "I remembered you liked that obscure indie artist, so I got us front-row tickets" kinda way. 🥹) BUT one more thing, also think They’re going to be verrryyy slow to say ‘I love you’—but when they do? Oh, it means something. This is the kind of person who will show you they love you 100 different ways before they ever say it out loud.

So to summarize, This person? They’re rare. And once they choose you, they’re choosing forever. So, uh, when’s the wedding?

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[narcjsistx]

— 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄?, 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒... | sae, kaiser, rin

SAE ITOSHI - for me, you never left

... wish you'd let me stay, i'm ready now 🎶

It was complicated for you to explain your relationship with the prodigy of Japan, the one who most commonly for you was Sae. Everyone looked at him for what he actually was, that is, the lethal midfielder of ReAl, the ace who refused to play for his country; but to you, he was simply the boy your father coached on your prefecture's soccer team. It had always been like this, even now that he had no longer lived in Japan for some years, even now that the crush you had kept secret from him for practically always was finally getting over you after years of suffering

You knew he had cut ties with everyone, from his Japanese teammates to his family, but nothing had ever changed with you. From the first day he arrived in Spain until today, your relationship had never had any problems: you spoke every day, called, everything. For you, Sae Itoshi had never left the another country to pursue his dream

He was jealous of you, even though he never admitted it. He was jealous if you told him that Rin had helped you repeat english that day, if you told him that a boy from your school had left a note in your locker on Valentine's Day. He didn't admit it, but you knew his habits, and you noticed

In fact, you could say that on the one hand your relationship had changed, but you couldn't say whether in a good way or not: your intimacy with each other. You didn't even know why Sae often called you at night, the black circles under his eyes that you immediately noticed, but he had never dared to tell you the reason for all this tiredness that was reflected on his body

"I'm damn tired of studying. In less than a few months I'll finally finish the session tho"

"You could come to Spain"

"I don't have the money to do it, you know. I would have to pay for the place and airfare"

“I simply asked you if you would like to come. I didn't mention money"

"As if you paid me everything"

"And that's what I'll do. I want to see you here in a month, understood?"

These were not gestures that friends made, especially considering the large sum of money involved, a sum that you would not have been able to pay him back even if you had worked all your life. Yet he wanted you there, to see you after a long time. Maybe your crush on him hadn't definitively passed, now that you were about to sleep in the same bed as him due to the arrangement he had made for you

MICHEAL KAISER - my first in everything

... face it, you want it, you crave it 🎶

It's not normal to be so physically attached to the one who was always the child who shoplifted from your mother's shop, all those years ago: it's not normal that he was your first kiss, your first serious fight, your first time. It is not normal that a person with whom you shared such things is not your boyfriend. And even less normal that he refuses human contact with everyone except you

You had decided together to share these important steps together, saying that you would never trust another to do something so important. And you never regretted it

But Micheal has always been like this, since he was a child: he started to hate physical contact right away, but with you he never had any problems taking your hand, hugging you, lifting your chin when you kept your gaze down. Him, who hates it when even Ness touches his shoulder, having no problem yelling at him

But with you Kaiser cried until dawn in your arms, so many times that you struggle to remember the exact number. With you he never had any problems treating you as if you were his wife, even though you weren't even his girlfriend. With you he never had any problems wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing you, making you decide which arm he should get his tattoo on. With you he has never been any problem in treating you as if you were his precious diamond, his impossible but possible blue rose. With you, it's always yes

"Every time I remember crying in your arms I feel like a piece of shit, absolutely pathetic. Yet I'm in your arms, and so I feel a little less sorry"

"I'm sorry when you can't vent, however. I would like to help you more often"

"You talk like you're not the only one I cry to. Maybe you're as pathetic as me, but I like it, you don't know how much. Continue to be, continue to be beautiful and a good girl for me, yeah?"

His team, Ness, his fans, everyone thought you were already a couple. You were, more or less, or at least the gestures represented this... but you had never talked about it, never

Yet, you wondered if you were really just friends, because friends don't end up in each other's bed at least once a month. Maybe you weren't friends, maybe he wasn't ready, maybe you weren't ready

Maybe he wasn't ready to tell you that you were always the one, from the first moment he laid his eyes on you. Maybe you weren't ready to tell him that you loved him. Maybe you were both simply afraid to tell the truth for fear that the other would take it badly. But you wanted and craved it

RIN ITOSHI - dating, but my heart is yours

... just tell me what you're doing with that other guy 🎶

After having dreamed all your life of becoming the girlfriend of Rin Itoshi, the genius of the school and the prefecture, you didn't know why you found yourself squeezing Nagi Seishiro's hand as you walked through the corridors. Even after confessing to Rin, you were now dating to none other than the lazy genius, your brother's best friend. And you were happy, more or less

You knew Rin from your shared classes, plus he had been playing in the field right below your class for a long time, giving you the chance to observe him a lot more. And so, you soon found yourself falling in love with him, perhaps a little too much for your brother's tastes, who however never said he was against it. You and Rin looked at each other often, both in the hallways and during class. Often his hand lingered a little too long on yours when he showed you how to write that particular word in english, perhaps feeling his hand on your thigh a few times during lessons was like dying and ending up in heaven

Maybe it wasn't normal for him to wait for you at the end of class to walk from your class to the gate together. Maybe it wasn't normal that he gave you his jersey with his name written on it

And at a certain point, you declared yourself. And you had kissed, but from that moment on neither of you had dared to do anything else. This way you understood that he wasn't really interested, otherwise he would have given you confirmation that he was your boyfriend... right?

And so a few months later, you had agreed to go on a date with Nagi, and you started to like him, you couldn't say otherwise: as lazy as he was, he was extremely sweet to you. And so you had decided to make it official, especially knowing that Reo would be happy about it

But making it official means saying it, proving it, even to the boy who nevertheless occupied a part of your heart that you knew Nagi couldn't occupy

But Rin had already noticed it for a while

"Are you happy? With him, I mean"

"I am. I certainly am"

"I'm happy about it. Enjoy this feeling"

"You say it like you don't know that I love you"

"And you act like you don't know how I feel"

Nagi was stable, maybe one day he could even become your husband if he continued to be so sweet; and honestly, you didn't mind the idea. But Rin had been making your heart unstable for years, even in moments when you thought you had everything under control, moments like this

And the feeling of adventure was something the lazy genius you knew couldn't give you, neither now nor when married, if it ever happened

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

this shit is so ass im gonna cry (i want to delete it)

[kneelbeforeclefairy]

Okay vocal range is complicated. True contraltos are kind of rare, sounds like you might be one, and often time people don't know what to do with that. I have no idea what ranges look like in pop music, but in musical theater there are plenty of songs that can be sung by altos, just not ones written in the last ten-twenty years. What's happened in contemporary musical theater is that the words "alto" and "soprano" kind of became words for vocal weight and where the belt range exists. So women who are technically "altos" are being made to belt ridiculously high (something that is harder if not impossible for sopranos) but certainly into what a soprano used to sing and that belt range is kind of defining the alto range even though she's singing ....the same notes as a soprano. Elephaba and Glinda are actually good examples of this. With the exception of Glindas really high notes in no one mourns the wicked and thank goodness, their ranges are ...similar. I'm not saying most singers could sing either part because they're different voice types and weights, but their ranges are very similar. Also a lot of what people call altos in musical theater are mezzos.

So yeah, kinda you're being gas lit, is what I'm trying to say.

But there are a lot of songs that are written quite low. Look at "turn back o man" from Godspell and "diamonds are a girl's best friend" from gentlemen prefer blondes (the ORIGINAL key, not Marilyn's key which is a little higher) "send in the clowns" from a little night music, maybe "science fiction double feature" from rocky horror picture show. I have a friend who's a True Contralo, there just ISNT a head voice there. She changes keys on everything and she does struggle with material but she's a semi professional singer so the material is out there. I'm trying to think what she does, some of those are her numbers. My other advice is look into 20s-40s jazz and American songbook songs. Those are usually written pretty low and they're not rangy, theyre what I call gentle on the voice.

I wish I had some notes to figure out exactly what range you have, because I do think that if you're singing baritone songs in the baritone octave you're dealing with a VERY low voice but there can also be some fear about accessing higher notes and maybe you just don't know the technique to get to your head voice. I'd also love to know which version of mr. Cellophane is sitting right for you.

I hope this helps! I'm not a voice teacher or anything I just know a lot of musical theater rep and like to help people find good songs.

Every time I start looking at vocal range videos to try to get back into practice singing I feel like I'm being gaslit.

[itsnesss]

Hi ! So i just want to say i absolutly adore all of your Jun-ho fics !

Can you do a Jun-ho x female reader fic where she is a player and he noticed her while infiltring because of her kindness. Like, she is supporting Han Mi-Neyo, is always trying to be kind ect ?

Sorry if it's strange, have a great day/night !

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | violence, death, psychological distress, trauma, tense or suspenseful scenes, emotional manipulation, romantic tension under high-stakes conditions

word count | 1.07 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The cold of the facility seeps through your green tracksuit, but you ignore it. It’s not the worst thing you’ve felt since arriving in this hell. Hunger, despair, and fear are constant companions. Still, you force yourself to keep your head high.

You refuse to become just another person who pushes, betrays, and tramples others for an extra second of life.

That’s why, when you see Han Mi-Nyeo sitting in a corner, trembling with rage and helplessness after being rejected by a group, you don’t hesitate.

"Here," you whisper, extending a piece of bread you saved from the last meal.

She looks up, distrustful. Her eyes analyze your every move, expecting a trap, expecting you to be like everyone else.

"Why are you helping me?" she asks warily, though her hand clutches the bread as if afraid you’ll change your mind.

"Because you might need it later," you reply simply.

Mi-Nyeo says nothing. She just lowers her gaze, biting into the bread cautiously, as if she doesn’t remember the last time someone did something for her without expecting anything in return.

This isn’t the first time you’ve acted this way. Since the first day, you tried to do the right thing in a place where there’s no room for kindness. You gave your sweater to a shivering woman on the first night. You helped an old man up when everyone ignored him. You shared food with a man on the brink of collapse.

You don’t expect anyone to do the same for you.

And yet, someone is watching you.

Hidden behind a black mask and a number that camouflages him among the others, Hwang Jun-ho has been watching you since he infiltrated this place. He was looking for his brother. He had no time for anything else.

But then, he saw you.

In a sea of despair, you are a point of light.

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t look at you longer than necessary. But every time you step forward to help someone, his gaze follows you, unwillingly.

Every time you risk yourself for someone else, a knot forms in his throat.

Because in this game, kindness is a death sentence.

The first time his instincts tell him to act is during the night of the massacre.

When the lights flicker and players attack each other, Jun-ho remains still. He knows he can’t interfere. If he does, he’ll be exposed.

But then, he sees you.

You’re hiding behind one of the beds, not out of fear but to protect one of the weakest women in the group. Your body shields hers as you whisper that everything will be okay, even though you both know it’s a lie.

A man approaches with a pipe in his hand, his intentions clear. And Jun-ho feels his heart stop.

Before you can react, the sound of a gunshot echoes through the room.

The other players shrink back, the chaos halts for a second.

"Enough!" a guard orders, his gun smoking.

It’s a coincidence. A stroke of luck. But you don’t see it that way.

You lift your gaze, and in the shadows, you see him.

One of the masked men, standing a few meters away, his posture rigid. You can’t see his face, but you know it’s him.

Because this isn’t the first time you’ve felt his eyes on you.

And though logic tells you all the guards are the same, something in your chest tells you this one isn’t like the others.

You don’t know his name. You don’t know who he is beneath the mask.

But somehow, you know he cares.

And in this hell, that’s enough.

Days pass, the deaths pile up.

Jun-ho tells himself he must focus on his mission. Find his brother, escape, expose everything.

But every time he sees you, he hesitates.

Especially when you stagger back after the glass bridge game.

Your leg is wounded, your pants soaked in blood. You can barely walk, but you force yourself to keep going.

No one will stop for you. No one will risk helping someone else when survival is all that matters.

A guard approaches, ready to drag you away like a broken object. And before Jun-ho can stop himself, his lips have already spoken the words:

"Leave her."

The guard pauses, surprised.

So do you.

You lift your gaze, and there he is, in the black mask, with that presence you recognize even without ever having seen his face.

"Wants her to continue," he adds, his voice firm.

It’s a calculated lie. One that could cost him his life if questioned.

But no one does.

They let you go.

And that night, as you try to tend to your wounds with trembling hands, you hear a faint sound behind you.

"Why are you helping me?" you whisper, without turning around.

A long silence.

Then, a response, so low you almost don’t hear it.

"Because you don’t belong here."

He closes the door before you can reply.

But your hands no longer tremble.

The night before the final game, you wake with a jolt.

You don’t know why, but you feel someone is there.

And when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see him.

He’s not wearing the mask.

Your heart races. It’s the first time you see his face.

And it’s the first time he allows himself to look at you without barriers.

Hwang Jun-ho.

His expression is serious, but his eyes say what his lips cannot.

"Tomorrow…" he starts, but stops.

There’s nothing he can tell you that you don’t already know.

If you win, maybe you live.

If you lose, it’s all over.

And he, who came here seeking answers, who never intended to get involved, now finds himself with a problem he can’t escape.

Because he wants to save you.

But he doesn’t know how.

You look at him, unflinching.

"You don’t have to do this," you whisper.

He lets out a dry, humorless laugh.

"I know."

But he’s here.

And when he steps forward, when his hand slides over yours, when his lips find yours in a desperate kiss, you know it’s the first and last time he will.

Because in this game, love has no place.

But, for tonight, you allow it.

Because even if dawn brings death, even if the end is inevitable…

Here, in the darkness, it’s just you and him.

No masks. No fear.

Only a whisper before everything disappears.

"Survive."

[starryeyed-firefly]

Darling, you're familiar (The Salesman x F!Reader)

Ki-yong has been loyal to the games for a long time. More time than he’d like to admit, not out of shame or guilt, but in the sense that he is getting older. He’s burnt bodies, killed players, managed guards, and climbed the ranks to recruiter. It gives him a certain sense of pride, a certain independence, and enough wealth to live opulently. He doesn’t need anyone else, really, he’s found contentment in his line of work.

Which is why it is so infuriating that the Front Man has him tailing not one, but two seemingly normal people. A, Hwang Jun-ho, a cop, the one who infiltrated the island. It seems simple enough. The odd aspect? The other is a foreigner, a young woman, he’d say still in her teens. Her hair is different, and in the winter all bundled up she looks more like a tokki than a person.

Jun-ho is a creature of habit. No longer a detective, but still a pristine cop nonetheless follows mostly the same routine. The little tokki however is more erratic. Classes changing every semester, so her work schedule changes, then she takes up internship hours at the local hospital, and when it all becomes too much for her she tends to fall ill for about a week, bouncing back as if she isn’t running herself into the ground.

Ki-yong is bored, one target is perpetually boring, the other painfully busy, it’s exhausting. He wants to go back to the subways, to the airports, to luring people into a painful death with that practiced smile on his face. The Front Man must have something important with these two to have one of his best keeping tabs on him. That’s what Ki-yong tells himself whenever that creeping sense of doubt lingers into his mind. He’s proven himself indispensable. He’s not being discarded, no, he’s been entrusted. So as boring as it is, he just takes it. Until he can’t.

The usual study spot is empty. Which is unnerving, the little tokki is a creature of habit, and it irks Ki-yong that she is not where he expects her to be. She is a creature of habit. Creatures of habit follow their habits. He’s white knuckling the ceramic mug of coffee and gritting his teeth into oblivion as his grip on his well manicured persona slips just a bit. So much so that he doesn’t even notice when the aforementioned rabbit slips into their usual spot sniffling and scrubbing at their eyes. Resting their head on their arms as they sob quietly in their usual study spot.

Shoulders shaking in a way that could be confused for laughter until she looks up with puffy eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It’s confusing. How his cheeks flush, and goosebumps rise on his perfectly sculpted arms, and his lips crook in a frown. He didn’t mean to do that, he didn’t mean to pout like a school boy- He also didn’t mean to get up, to brush a gentle hand on her shoulder (that makes her startle regardless).

“Are you alright, Miss?” He knows her name, hell he knows your birthday, social security number, her favorite fucking color-“I-I’m fine, sorry for bothering you-” She stammers, already scrambling to leave.

“It’s not a problem, Miss.” He says, voice so gentle it surprises even himself. “Why are you crying?”

She freezes, like she’s been shot. Like the players during Red Light Green Light. It shouldn’t bother him so much, not the tears, not her reaction, not her surprise.

But it does.

Turns out, she got screwed over on a project that matters quite a bit for her grade. It shouldn’t bother him so much. The classmates faced severe consequences, after the Dean received an anonymous tip and more than enough evidence. It shouldn’t bother him, he offers her a napkin as she gets whipped cream on her cheek from the hot chocolate he bought her.

It shouldn’t matter when she giggles at a light-hearted remark. It shouldn’t matter when her eyes crinkle up as he passes her a napkin. It shouldn’t matter when she smiles again, and just keeps smiling. It shouldn’t. It does.

He receives a call from the Front-Man at the usual time, in the usual place, with… a mostly usual report. In-ho doesn’t pry, Ki-yong is grateful, he’s absolutely losing it, isn’t he?“Ki-yong,” The Front-Man says.

“If you’re tired of this task, I can have one of the managers-”

“No-, no. This is… it’s an appreciated change of pace.” Ki-yong slips the mask back on with ease. But his slip up doesn’t go unnoticed.

“...very well. I’d like for the updates to become more frequent as we get closer to our start date.”

“Of course, sir.”

“...is there something else, Ki-yong?” Curiosity laces In-ho’s words.

“...the girl, who is she?” He asks, once again surprising himself. It seems like this keeps happening…

“Keep focused, recruiter, I asked for updates, that’s all I expect of you.” It’s unspoken, but an order nonetheless.

“...of course, sir.” The call ends, Ki-yong fiddles with the polaroid of her tucked away safely in his suit coat.

It matters. All of it. He’ll figure out why. He’ll figure out why…

A/N: I decided to call the Salesman "Moon Ki-yong", I've seen some other authors do it and I really enjoyed it! I also wanted to try and get into the headspace of everyone's favorite psychopath so this was really fun to write! Please send in requests and asks :3

[libraford]

See the thing is that the application of the ban requires self-reporting. Its impractical and useless to go up to every therapist and ask them if they practice conversion (reparative) therapy. If a child, for some reason (not saying it doesn't happen) is gay and does not want to be gay, and they choose to go through conversion therapy through a clinical professional- they can simply NOT REPORT. They can say 'I understand that there is a ban in place, but I find this is beneficial to me, so I will not report it.'

I am using the KINDEST LANGUAGE AVAILABLE TO ME to describe this extremely rare situation. Believe me.

She was not the worst person to speak against it. At the previous meeting there was another woman with similar sentiments that this person was just recycling.

I transcribed and fact-checked:

"You mean you want parents to have ZERO say in whether their kids take puberty blockers before they're even in puberty???" No, we want to ban certain practices in therapy that seek to change a person's sexuality or gender. "You mean you want to take our rights away as parents!?" No, unless your 'right as a parent' involves abusing your child into conforming into strict gender roles. Technically, we can't enforce what goes on inside the home, so you're off the hook. We're focusing on counseling centers and clinics. "You're saying that a doctor or a therapist cannot speak to children about the dangers of puberty blockers!?" Puberty blockers are typically not prescribed to children under the age of 14 for gender affirming care and only so with at least one year's consistent therapy- wherein all the risks must be assessed. "Puberty Blockers cause medical castration" They don't. "It causes cancer" They can increase risk of cancer, which is not the same as causing cancer. "It causes diseases." Please name the diseases. "Can I come into your home and tell YOU how to raise your children?" Once again- this would ban conversion therapy as it operates through medical and mental health professionals. "You want to talk about bringing illegal immigrants into our city? Fine! Bring them in! But lets get a sheet of paper with every single one of your addresses and phone numbers so that when people are looking for a place to stay, they can stay in your backyard!" ??? I thought we were talking about gender affirming care. "Quit telling us how to do our jobs as parents. I have a friend that is transgender. I tried to get him to come tonight, but he was shy. The havoc that the hormones have wreaked on his body. He's had a full mastectomy. He's had a hysterectomy." Hormones do not cause mastectomies or hysterectomies, and these are things that cisgender persons can also have or want. "But you know what, he didn't get these things until after a year of counseling. A year of counseling. One year. And he was 22 years old." Yes, that is the typical amount of time required before they allow you to go through surgery for gender affirming care. "But the key word once again is children. Leave our children alone. I don't care if you wanna be a cat and pee in a litterbox and take a dump in a litterbox every day." But you do, I suppose, care if someone wants gender affirming care. Which again, is not anything that's changing. All of these things are staying the same. What is being debated is whether or not a medical professional can try to change a child's sexuality or gender without consequences. "But we are the parents. You have no rights here. We have the rights. I spend (Large number) on property taxes each year and you wanna take my rights away, is that how its going to be? As a parent and as a grandparent- NO." Ma'am, are you a medical care professional that's seeking to change the gender or sexuality of children under the age of 18?

Its been my experience that the people who are against it aren't really all that well-read on the issues and don't really want to be. They're hoping that an impassioned speech is enough, and sometimes that works. But in a lot of cases, the issue isn't even the specific issue being discussed so much as it is broad topics such as 'gender affirming care' and 'children' and 'parental rights' and 'religious freedom.'

The lady in the video did raise questions about anonymity in regards to the self-report model because if a minor reports a therapist it would go on their public record. But her issue wasn't about forcibly outing a child so much as parental rights. Anonymity is an issue because in order to move forward we do have to have thorough note-taking of incidents. But I'm not a legal professional so I'm not sure what a solution might be.

Columbus Dispatch: Westerville becomes 13th Ohio city to ban Conversion Therapy.

[erysser]

SIBLING - TEACHER CONFERENCE

-> summary : in which Yuji gets into trouble and Sukuna is forced to deal with it. Fortunately, Yuji's pretty teacher makes it worth it.

-> pairings : ryomen sukuna x reader

-> a/n : big brother Sukuna + modern AU !! No curse AU 💔Both reader and sukuna are in their 20s.

Ring!

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at the irritating sound, pausing the gory movie in front of him. His fingertips touch the screen, a scoff escaping as the phone continued to buzz, flashing an unknown number.

"Hello?" His bored voice says as he picks up, eyes moving back to the TV.

"Hi, Are you Ryomen Sukuna?"

"Yea?"

"Ah okay! You were listed as an emergency contact for Itadori Yuji. Um... It seems that Yuji has gotten into a bit of trouble today at school. Can you come in and handle this?"

Sukuna scoffs at the statement, rolling his eyes. He sucks his teeth as the words soaked into his mind. Yuji got into trouble? Was he trying to ruin his day off?

"Do I need to?" A stupid question Sukuna knows, but he really hoped that the person on the other side would say no.

"Um... yes?"

great.

"okay. I'll be there soon."

The call ends with a click and Sukuna grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans back against fhe plump couch. What a way to spend his day off.

☆

Your eyes move from the phone to Itadori who had been sitting in front of you for the last half an hour. It had been 20 minutes since you called his brother. His eyes don't meet yours, gaze firmly on the floor as he grips his pants leg tightly.

He didn't say anything. Shame obviously filling his head as he avoided eye contact. The normal chatter that filled any room he was in was gone. His face battered and bruised from the fight and his knuckles red and purple.

"Your brother is on the way," You repeat ; and he nods, not even looking up. You frown. The boy was almost your age and you felt terrible for him. It wasn't his fault. Yuji was always in trouble yes, but never for things like this... He was defending a classmate, yet he's the one to be punished over winning the fight another person created? It was stupid.

"I'm not mad at you," Your voice barely above a whisper, softness radiating off your tone. His eyes finally tore off his feet. A pang of guilt hitting you as he stared back with reddened eyes that shook rapidly.

He was crying.

"What the hell happened?" A harsh voice interrupts before you could even move to comfort the boy.

Your eyes widen, immediately moving to the door to see a tatted man leaning at the doorway. His gaze moves from his brother to you, eyes softening as he took in your appearance.

It was obvious that Itadori and the man in the doorway were siblings. The light pink hair was a dead giveaway. Yet, the man and Itadori were like the sun and moon.

The soft and caring features of Yuji were nowhere to be found on him, being replaced by a harsh and intimidating gaze that pierced the soul. His defined arms were littered with tattoos, no doubt continuing under his baggy t-shirt.

You feel your face heat up as your eyes lingered on him. Clearing your throat as you turn away, "Um, Yuji here, got into a fight."

Sukuna enters the room, his dark and clunky boots slamming against the wooden floor.

"Did he now?" He asks, pulling up a seat next to you. His tone calm though a hint of annoyance lingered in the air as he spoke. You nod, quickly rambling and explaining what happened to the tatted man.

Sukuna stares at your features as you rambled, eyebrows raised as he listened to your voice. A small smirks plays on his face as he watches your downturn eyebrows. Your concern, worry and care obvious from the way you described Yuji.

You couldn't have been any older than him, perhaps the same age. What was a beautiful person like you doing taking care of teenagers? You should've been going out with friends, chilling, clubbing and yet you reserved yourself to teaching? Sukuna could barely believe it.

"I'm sorry, did you catch what I said?" Your voice interrupts his train of thoughts as your eyes meet. He stares at you with a plain expression, a glint of mischief shining through under the calm guise he wore.

"Yea," He says, leaning back on his chair, looking at Yuji whose ears pinkened under the embarrassment. "This one always cause you trouble, huh?"

"What? No! no he-" You stumble on your words, jumping to defend the boy. Sukuna's eyes crinkle, humoured by your eagerness to defend the boy like he was your own brother.

"It's alright," Sukuna waves off, "Yuji, leave the room. I want to talk to your teacher, privately."

Itadori gives a confused look, staring dumbfounded at his brother who jerked his head towards the door. Hesitantly, he stood up and stepped out, casting a concerned look to you as he shut the door.

The silence echoes around the room and you shiver into yourself under Sukuna's heavy gaze. His eyes linger on you, moving his chair closer.

"I'm so sorry about my brother," He states slowly, not an ounce of remorse in his voice. "I think.. perhaps we should keep in contact just in case he starts any trouble again."

Your eyebrows shoot up at the words. Was he..?

"Excuse me?"

A smug smile creeps onto his face. "I mean, my grandfather is... senile at this point, and I'm the oldest in the family besides him, so.."

You raise your eyebrows at him, unimpressed by his words. You had met Itadori's grandfather before and to call him senile was an insult and a falsehood at its core.

"uhuh..." You hum, crossing your arms

You look him up and down, taking in his whole appearance. He wore a pair of baggy black jeans and a an oversized wrinkly grey t-shirt. His shirts wasn't low cut but you could practically make out the long tattoos that detailed his chiseled neckline.

"I don't know if that's quite professional," You say softly, feigning ignorance. He scoffs.

"Professional? What do you mean? I'm purely doing this for my brother's best interest," His lies coming off as sweet concern as he spoke.

What a liar.

You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes, a smile ghosting your lips. You eyed him for a while, thinking on the best course of action.

The man in front of you was awfully good-looking, it was practically sickening. Yet, he was your student's older brother... was it really the best idea to give him your number?

You frown at thought as he pushes his phone towards you, the empty contact staring at you expectantly.

You sigh, taking the phone into your hand.

☆

Itadori looks up as he hears the door click open. Sukuna's heavy boots click on the ground, a proud smile decorating his face as he stared at his phone. His eyes move to Itadori, gesturing for him to follow him as he walked off towards his car. He shoves his phone into his pockets, head held high as he walked. Itadori scrambles behind him, stumbling as he moves to catch up with his older brother.

"What's up with you? Why are you so happy?" Suspicion laces Itadori's voice, eyes narrowing at the abnormally happy man.

"Can't a man be happy?" Sukuna retorts harshly, rolling his eyes at Itadori. His hand reaches to the younger boys hair, pushing his head down as he ruffles it. Itadori didn't say anything, still eyeing him suspiciously.

Sukuna didn't say anything, his grip tightening on his phone that stored his now prize possession.

Your number.

[dexastres]

anchor

jude bellingham x black reader

summary : jude calls his ex in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep

warning : angst

wc : 860

2:00 a.m.

Jude lay in his bed, restless, unable to escape his thoughts. Outside, the rain pounded on his window, matching the storm in his mind. Each thought was lost in shadow, silence, and fear. Sleepless nights had become commonplace for him. He couldn’t close his eyes, even for a second, knowing he’d have the same nightmare again. But it wasn’t just a dream. It was more than that, it slowly became his reality. Whether Jude was sleeping or awake, there was no escape from his nightmares. They were chasing him day and night, without leaving him a second to breathe. They were consuming all his energy.

Jude sat on his bed while a tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it and faced the empty side of his bed. Four months had passed since his ex broke up with him. Her scent had faded from the pillow, a painful reminder of her absence. She didn’t need him in her life and had found happiness somewhere else, far from the cameras, the rumours, the lies and the empty promises. She was happier than ever, but with another man.

“I’m sorry.” Jude whispered, but his words caught in his throat. “I’m so sorry, Enya. Why did I do that? I’m such an idiot.”

His eyes lingered on his bedside table, where he reached for his phone with his trembling hand. He scrolled through his messages. The most recent ones were from his brother, his teammates, and his friends, all asking if he was doing well. He didn't even know how he was feeling, so he kept scrolling because he didn’t know what to answer.

Despite the joyful persona he showed the world, the young man died a little each day. The facade he created to protect himself was slowly crumbling as the guilt gnawed at him inside. The fatigue was only catching up to him, and his injured shoulder didn’t do his performances any favours.

Jude opened his messages with Enya. His heart clenched as he read their last conversation before everything fell apart. He typed the words he wished he had said to her back then, although he doubted she would read them. She had moved on and left him behind, lost in the memories of what they once shared.

“I’m sorry for everything I did. You deserve someone who will treat you right, and I failed to do it. I regret everything.”

“I still love you and I miss you, Enya.” Jude whispered and brought the phone to his ear, feeling a lump in his stomach and a dry throat. He knew better, but didn’t care. Was he being selfish? Yes, but the temptation was too strong. He needed to hear her voice, even if it was from her voicemail.

“What if she changed her number? I’ll look stupid if that’s the case. Maybe I should…” Right before he could change his mind, he heard Enya’s tired voice.

“Hello?” Jude froze. He couldn’t believe she answered.

“Hello?” Enya asked again, but this time, the irritation in her voice became apparent. Jude opened his mouth, but no words came out. A storm of emotions rose within him.

“Hi.” He finally said in a barely audible voice.

“Jude? Why are you calling me this late?” Her irritation was growing with each passing second, but Jude couldn’t blame her. Enya had every reason to resent him. “We haven’t talked in four months, and you’re suddenly calling me in the middle of the night. What’s wrong with you?”

The Englishman remained silent. He couldn’t let her know the truth. He didn’t want Enya to know how lost and miserable he was without her. He didn’t want her to know that he spent his days thinking about her, wishing he could go back and undo everything.

“Cat got your tongue?” Enya sighed. She wanted to hang up, sensing that she was wasting time, but a part of her couldn’t bring herself to do it. She still wanted to hear his voice, to know what he had to say, even though it wouldn’t lead to anything.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up. I was reading our old conversation and felt like I should reach out to you. I saw your pictures with your boyfriend. You look good together. Congratulations.” Jude tried to keep his voice steady, but it didn’t seem to work. Enya could hear his pain. The young man felt the tears well up and let them flow silently.

“Jude? Are you crying?” Enya asked softly.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have called you, goodnight, Enya.” He wiped his tears before ending the call.

2:45 a.m.

Jude stared at the ceiling, feeling emptier than ever. “It was a bad idea.” He mumbled as he reached for his phone again. His eyes widened when he saw the message Enya sent him, and his face broke into a smile, despite his efforts to suppress it.

“In case you’re wondering, I’m not with him anymore.” He wanted to answer, but exhaustion had taken over his body. Jude closed his eyes, and for the first time in four months, he didn’t have nightmares.