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lenoraslament · 9 months ago

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Lenora’s Love: A Tom Riddle Fanfiction

Chapter 23: How it Always Should Have Been

(Warnings: soft Tom, smut, first time…kind of …I mean she did it before but she doesn’t remember because he obliviated their prior relationship right out of her head because he’s Tom Riddle,)

Tom and Lenora make love. That’s it. That’s the summary.

"Why is it necessary to have a ball every season" Tom teased in her ear as they danced.

"Oh you love it" she spoke softly against his neck,"Tom Riddle golden boy whom every young lady can only hope to dance with".

Tom raised his brow, "is that what you think of me?"

He held her out to twirl and she took her time returning to his arms.

"No"she touched his face softly, "I don't think you're perfect".

He made a face between a scowl and a pout, "Really?"

She loved getting a rise out of him, "I think you're devious, controlling...."her finger traced over his lip bravely, "caring,and valiant and romantic".

Her eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes, "you're better than perfect. You're real".

For once he didn't know what to say, he didn't expect her flattery to make him blush.

The only thing he could do was grab her waist and kiss her abruptly.

They were bumped. Lilith and Theo glided around them. "Get a room!" They both yelled and Tom shot Theo a glare.

Lenora only smiled up at Tom,"maybe we should..."

Everyone was busy drinking and dancing, she took his hand and led him to her room.

Hungrily they pushed through the door, their hands exploring each other.

In her bed, their hips pushed together eagerly.

"Please" she said when he pulled away,"I'm ready".

"Are you sure" Tom whispered propped himself on his elbow, laying on his side. His eyes searched hers as he stroked her hair, her lips parted at the intensity of his stare.

"I've never been, more sure" she reached down to the hem of her dress which had already rode up to her waist.

She pulled it over her head and dropped it off the side of the bed. Lenora leaned over and touched his chest, looking up to meet his burning gaze.

Moonlight poured in the window, passing his shoulder, it cascaded across her hair and lit up her eyes. Tom found himself breathless, as she leaned into him.

"I want you" she whispered now, as he traced her jaw, softly stroking her face, "to be my first".

She watched something flicker behind his eyes, as he stopped for a moment. Tom then pushed his hands into her hair, his thumbs holding the sides of her cheeks.

This is how it always should have been he reassured himself and kissed her deeply.

Her mouth met his eagerly, her arms found his shoulders and she pressed her body against his.

His lips trailed off to her cheek, her jaw, her ear and down her neck. Lightly his mouth peppered her with kisses breathing in her skin, stopping to suck a spot on her neck that made her moan softly.

She reached back to unlatch her bra, he teased her nipples with his fingertips, softly pinching the peaks until he lazily took each in his mouth.

Lenora's hands stroked his hair, his neck and shoulders. Her moans egged him on, he rolled down her lacy panties and rose to meet her lips again while he unbuttoned his shirt. She almost lunged to grab the buckle of his pants making him chuckle in her mouth.

"Patience, beautiful" he said as he finished undressing. He had never felt so exposed in his life seeing her eyes sweep across his body. Her cheeks flushed and breath hitched, a shy smile creeped onto her lips.

When his hands dropped to touch her, he gasped at how wet she was. Their kisses became more intense their tongues pushing against each other. Tom's fingers slowly moved up and down her center, teasing her clit.

Her little cries drawing out approving moans from his mouth. He slipped a finger in and curled it up, she clung to his shoulders. Then he drew his fingers out and teasing her clit again.

He alternated between these movements endlessly until he coaxed out her orgasm. Her body shook against him until her hips leapt away violently as she came.

Tom leaned over her as she caught her breath, slowly he placed his legs between hers letting her straddle his waist.

His forehead touched hers for a moment, his lips nuzzling her cheek. He touched her the side of her face and she melted.

"Tom" she said as he smiled down at her.

"Yes darling" he asked

"Will it hurt?" her voice was softer, her hands caressed his back.

"No" he whispered in her ear, he closed his eyes feeling his heart skip.

"I'll be gentle" he touched his lips onto her kissing her lightly, his tongue teasing hers.

He slid himself between her thighs and the entered her. A gasp escaped both of their lips.

Their bodies rocked softly against each other, he muttered into her ear soft words that sounded like prayers.

Her fingers touched the back of his hair, tugging lightly as she whined. The tempo increased and his fingers held onto her hips for leverage. Her soft noises turned into louder cries, her hips canted to meet his.

"Oh Tom I-" her breathing quickened.

"Are you close darling?" He asked brushing his lips over hers as she panted.

"I think so" she shut her eyes tightly.

"Look at me beautiful" he said and her eyes flicked up to his. Her mouth was open in pleasure, he could feel her finger nails drag across his back.

"That's it Nora, come for me darling" he watched her come undone, moaning loudly as her hips shook again in orgasm. He kissed her neck and helped her ride it out feeling himself coming close as well.

His hand found hers and their fingers laced together over her head. Tom thrusts quickened before they became sloppy, he pushed through as she bit her lip coming again and then he released as he kissed her passionately.

He panted onto her neck, trying to compose himself. She clung to him as he rolled onto his back. Tom's fingers traced down her shoulder as she kissed the top of her head.

This is how it should have always been.

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hanitje · 2 years ago

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I really want to talk about the scene where Panto, Bart, Priest, and Ken were in front of the portal house (Ken was on a Zoom call, technically). I thought it was such a brilliant and intense scene, I still remember the tension to this day.

Here we have Bart prattling at Ken while Priest is warily looking at her and his eyes dart at this pink-haired tall glass drink of water, Panto. He sees that the silent pink-haired man is holding a giant scissor sword in his holster, like a gun. He doesn't know this man, he doesn't know his power, he doesn't have his file, he doesn't know his ability.

He knows Bart. He knows that he doesn't have a chance to face off against Bart because she can't be killed. He knows her so well, that in order to subdue her is to be manipulative with her.

Mr. Priest is never afraid to face off against all of these people with powers. He gleefully peppered Suzie with bullets not knowing that she can turn him into a frog or other magical item. In fact, it makes him happy that she disappeared like Michael Myers after falling from a building. It was a challenge for him.

So WHY is he looking very nervous when he sees Panto?

Panto on the other hand is very relaxed but attentive. He stares at Priest, smirking a little. His hand is on his weapon, ready to draw when necessary. He observes the situation, knowing that the soldiers are ready to pounce at both him and Bart.

Panto KNOWS that Priest cannot be trusted. He sees the Blackwing soldiers are menacing, and this smiling, manipulative man named Mr. Priest is trying to get her back to Blackwing HQ. But he doesn't say anything, only waiting for Bart to end her conversation with Ken. He even waves and smiles at Ken when she introduces her friend to him. But his smile doesn't reach his eyes. He knows that these people are bad and he can't let his guard down. However, he doesn't look threatening at all. He is so chillaxed with his posture.

What makes it so memorable is the way Panto watches Priest and the rest of the soldiers. His body is relaxed, but he never takes his eyes off Priest. One wrong move, he would take some action.

When Priest offers Bart his friendship and ice cream, and she refuses, Panto looks at her and knows that is her final answer - she will not return to Blackwing. He understands that Priest's sweet talk is poisonous and lies.

Now, I feel like the audience at the time kinda underestimate Panto. Because he's a fantasy prince who speaks in prose and chivalry language and has pink hair. Sure, he can fight and probably slay a lot of dragons and villains. He's in love with his boyfriend and doesn't fit this macho masculinity of a knight or a prince unlike, say, Aragorn from LOTR. But I feel like Panto has so much in common with Aragorn. Even when looking at an alpha man (from society's POV), Panto is still considered not as macho. They are so wrong.

Panto may not be a rough-looking prince, but he's a goddamn Silent Killer. The moment Priest touches Bart, he immediately orders him to unhand her and he draws his sword. With a calm and meticulous precision fighting style, he butchered the soldiers when one of them tries to sneak up on him -- surprisingly he doesn't kill them.

I feel like the reason why he didn't kill them is that he realizes that this is not his world. He is only a guest in Montana, and he only obeys Bart. He protects Bart, even when he knows that she can take care of herself, and he doesn't add more problems or look for trouble more than necessary.

When Panto finally faces Priest, he doesn't even try to kill him. He waits for Bart's instruction. Bart grunts at him, and he just SLICES Priest's face with his scissor sword. When he walks away, he apologizes. The job is done, it's over. and he walks away with Bart. He doesn't do overkill. He doesn't seek killing.

I really want a season 3 so Panto and Priest can face off again. I reckon that Priest wants some revenge after Panto decorated his face. Especially the complicated connection with Ken and Bart, I feel that Panto definitely will also face them too.

But my question still remains: why Priest is so nervous facing off Panto?

#Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency #Panto Trost #Alan Tudyk #Osmund Priest #Christopher Russell #Mr. Priest

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mrsstruggle · 3 years ago

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The Lost Child - Chapter 12 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

Summary: Y/N Stark was taken from her family when she was three years old. It's fifteen years later and her family believes she is dead. Then how is she in Beacon Hills?

Warnings: Language, Depictions of Violence/Injury/Death/Murder, Mentions of Needles/Being Injected, Characters Held Captive, Mentions of Drugs, Accusations of an Inappropriate Relationship, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff, & More To Come!

Previous Pairings: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Scott McCall x Allison Argent

Words: 2.8k

Note: I am posting every 2-3 days! I'm going to try to get on a schedule of posting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story. This also loosely follows Teen Wolf Season 4.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so that more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment only.***

Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

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"What are you talking about? What's going on?" Tony questions.

"Tell me you're lying," Derek doesn't want what Lydia said to be true.

"Why would I lie?" Lydia looks up at Derek, tears slowly streaming down her face.

The Avengers in the room didn't understand what was going on. One second the red-haired girl was intensely listening to the fireplace, and now Y/N's friends say she's some key to a list. Her being the key seems to be something horrible due to their reactions.

"I, uh, I'm..." Stiles stands up from his spot on the ground, "I need some air." He rushes out of the lake house through the front door. Lydia gets up from her spot in front of the laptop and runs after him.

Steve looks at Scott and Derek, "Can one of you please tell us what's happening? We need to know everything so we can find Peter and Y/N."

Derek and Scott share a look as Derek walks over to the laptop. He bends down to look at the list to see if they had gotten in.

Seeing the list staring back at him, Derek turns to Scott with an angry look in his eyes, "Tell them. Everything."

Scott looks around at the Avengers in front of him, "Um, okay. What just happened is we unlocked the third Deadpool list."

"Deadpool list?" Bruce questions.

"Yes, it's a list of people with numbers by them." Scott tries to explain to the confused Avengers, "Each number represents an amount. An amount the person is worth."

"Are you killing people?!" Steve angrily exclaims.

"It's more like people are trying to kill us," Lydia states, walking back into the room with Stiles following behind her. His eyes are visibly bloodshot from crying.

"Why would people try to kill you? What does this have to do with Y/N?" Tony asks, tired of wasting time and skirting around what's going on.

"You handed me this file," Stiles holds up the file in his hand, "You know what she is. You know she's a werewolf."

"How do you know that?" Bucky questions.

"I'm her brother," Stiles scoffs.

"What does her being a werewolf have to do with her being the key to this Deadpool?" Tony just wants answers, and he wants to find his kids.

"The Deadpool is three different lists of every supernatural person who lives in Beacon Hills." Stiles explains, "One-hundred and seventeen million dollars was stolen from Peter Hale's vault. The numbers next to each name add up to that amount. It's also how much each person is worth dead."

"Peter Hale is Derek's uncle," Lydia informs the Avengers, pointing over to Derek.

"How do you know this?" Steve asks.

Scott flashes them his alpha red eyes, "Because we're on it too."

"What are you?" Bruce asks, fascinated by Scott's red eyes.

"I'm a werewolf, like Y/N. So is Derek." Derek flashes his red eyes for everyone to see.

"Is that why your eyes turn red?" Natasha questions.

"Yes, but it's also because I'm an alpha." Scott explains, "Alphas have red eyes and betas and omegas have yellow eyes. Unless the beta or omega has killed an innocent, then they have blue eyes."

"Fascinating," Bruce whispers in shock.

"In the pictures, Y/N has yellow eyes. She's a beta?" Tony looks to Scott for answers.

"She's a beta but..." Scott hesitates with his answer, "her eyes are blue."

"She's killed someone?" Bucky never wanted Y/N to live a life like he had.

"She's had blue eyes since the day she showed up at my house," Stiles informs them.

"Oh god." Tony mutters to himself, moving to sit on the couch, "What did Hydra make her do?"

Steve looks over to Lydia, "What are you?"

"Banshee." Lydia states, "I can sense when someone is about to die. Although most of the time I end up somewhere, they're already dead."

"Is Y/N dead? Is that what you heard when you were listening to the fire? If she's a supernatural like you say she is, wouldn't she be on a list and not the key?" Bucky quickly fires off each question.

"Y/N was on the first list. I don't know why she's the key to the third one," Lydia explains.

"What were the first two keys?" Steve asks.

"Allison and Aiden," Stiles states, trying not to start crying again thinking about what this could mean for his sister, "They were friends of ours."

"Were?"

"They, um, they're kinda dead now." Stiles watches as the Avenger's faces drop.

Tony nervously cracks his knuckles, "You're telling me that we just found out today that my daughter, who was taken from me fifteen years ago, is alive and now she's probably dead?!"

"She's not dead," Derek states.

"How do you know that?! You just told us that she more than likely is and now you're saying she isn't?!" Bucky yells in frustration.

"She's not dead," Derek states again, crossing his arms in anger.

"Derek..." Scott sighs, he almost looks at him in pity.

Derek huffs in irritation, "I would know if she's dead and she's not."

"What? Can you also predict when someone's dead?" Natasha questions.

"She's my girlfriend. I'd know if she was dead."

"Is it like a wolf thing or something?" Bruce asks curiously.

"Don't even ask," Stiles rolls his eyes, "He won't tell you anything. He just says he knows these things and expects you to believe him."

"You're her boyfriend," Bucky looks Derek up and down before scoffing in disbelief.

"He said that earlier when he asked why you took the picture of Y/N," Wanda informs him.

"Y/N definitely has a type," Nat smirks, staring at Derek.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bucky questions her.

"The girl was basically in love with you when she was little." Nat lightly hits Bucky on the arm, "I'm sure she loves him too. Tall, brown-haired, broody guys must be her type."

"How old are you? You look like you're 37." Bucky continues to stare Derek down.

"I'm 23." Derek states.

"She just turned 18." Bucky takes an angry step toward Derek.

"She turned 19 a month ago." Derek takes a step towards Bucky.

"She's 18." Bucky takes another step toward Derek, "When did you two get together? Were you just waiting patiently until the day she became legal, or could you not wait?"

Derek growls and takes an angry step towards Bucky at his false accusations before Scott quickly jumps in between them, "This is not the time!"

"I've already spent the last fifteen years thinking Y/N was gone. Until I see a body, she's alive." Steve states, watching the tension between Bucky and Derek.

"How much is she worth?" Thor speaks up, "You said she's on the first list. How much is she worth?"

"Fifty million," Stiles answers.

"We need to find them now." Tony stands up from his spot on the couch, "Hydra has both of my kids and who knows what the hell they are doing to them or if they are even still alive. We need to stop discussing things that don't matter right now and find them."

"Like I said earlier, Bruce and Nat go to the jet and start searching for anything. Use the computers and everything." Bruce and Natasha run out of the house and towards the jet at Steve's order, "We will start digging through the files to try to find something."

"I'll call the rest of the pack to get down here to help," Scott states, pulling out his phone from his back pocket.

"Not everyone is going to be much help. It's a full moon tonight." Stiles informs him, "It comes up in like an hour."

"My grandma's cabin is across the lake. Tell them to go there. We can chain down Malia and Liam, and the rest of us can start researching." Lydia explains to them.

"What's going on?" Everyone turns their heads to see Sam walking into the room with bloodshot eyes and Fury and Maria behind him.

"You might want to sit down for this," Bucky points to a spot on the couch.

---

"Peter? You still with me?" Peter hasn't spoken in about five minutes, and it has Y/N worried.

Whatever drug Hydra had given her had worn off a while ago. She has broken free from the restraints and has broken Peter free from his. Now they are sitting against the wall, waiting for what's to come.

"Yeah. I feel great." Peter mumbles, his head hanging down because he can no longer seem to hold it up.

"The moon will be up soon," Y/N informs him, looking up at the sky.

"I'm sure you can find a way to save me and the others."

"I don't want to think about that right now," Y/N mutters loud enough for Peter to hear, "I just want to make sure whatever they gave you doesn't kill you before I get the chance to get the cure. If it even is a cure."

"I bet they're scared," Peter mumbles, worried about the three boys who were huddled together against the wall opposite of them.

Y/N stays silent at Peter's statement. He's just like Scott. He thinks he can save everybody, but he doesn't understand that it's not always possible to do so. She doesn't want to kill anyone. If it was just her, she'd let them rip her to shreds, but she has to protect Peter.

She looks back up at the sky to see the moon starting to shine through. She looks over to the three boys and sees them starting to transform. The full moon is starting to affect them.

"It looks like you'll be getting your cure soon," Y/N mutters to Peter. The glass wall separating them from the three werewolves moves down into the ground. Now there is nothing in between them.

"The safe will open once their hearts stop beating," The voice booms throughout the large room.

She looks towards the three boys to see they are already staring back at her. Their claws and fangs are out and ready to rip her to shreds.

She knows with her powers she could kill them easily and not have to put up a fight. She could use the darkness to create arrows or swords. She could stab their shadows so she'd never have to touch them. She could manipulate their shadows and throw them against the wall as hard as she could. She could do so many things but there was a voice in her head telling her not to. She can't hurt them unless she has to.

The three betas charge toward her and Peter. She decides to charge toward them in hopes of keeping them away from him. It's not her best idea but it's the only thing she can think of.

The bigger one of the three goes for her first. She dodges his claws as he swipes at her face. Her foot connects with the chest of the boy who reminds her of Stiles and sends him flying against the wall next to him.

She notices the smaller boy running towards Peter. She uses her powers to stop him by grabbing his shadow and throwing him backward. She throws him hard enough to get away from Peter, but not hard enough to kill him.

The larger boy's claws rip through her left arm as he swipes her when she's distracted. She hisses in pain before swiping her claws through the back of his neck. He falls to the ground, no longer having control of his limbs. She knows that with his werewolf healing he will heal soon, but it gives her some time for now.

The boy who reminds her of her brother tackles her to the ground. He gets on top of her and uses his strength to pin her down. The power of the full moon makes him a lot stronger than her.

She cries out in pain as his claws rip through her stomach. She uses all her strength to punch him in the face using her right arm. It doesn't do much to him, but it stuns him enough she's able to push him off her and kick him hard enough in the face to render him unconscious.

Looking around for the other boy, she sees him running back towards Peter. She stands up and runs towards him before tackling him to the ground. They both stand up quickly ready to fight each other.

"Peter?! You still good?!" Y/N yells out, checking to make sure he is still alive.

When she doesn't receive an answer, she glances over toward him to see he's no longer conscious. She hones her hearing in to hear that his heart is still beating but it's barely holding on.

That's when she makes her decision.

As the werewolf in front of her lunges at her, she sidesteps him and nearly gets clipped by his claws. She jumps onto his back and wraps her hand around his throat. Her claws rip through his throat before he falls to the ground dead.

She feels as if she could throw up, but she doesn't have time to do so. She quickly forms a bow and arrow with the darkness surrounding her. She'd rather shoot the other two from afar than feel the life leave their bodies as she rips out their throats.

She sees the larger boy slowly rise from his spot on the ground before he starts running toward her. She quickly fires off the arrow into his heart and watches him collapse dead onto the floor. She's now grateful she had Allison teach her how to use a bow.

She forms another arrow before shooting the last werewolf down. She covers her eyes as she runs past him towards the safe. He looks too much like Stiles and she knows if she looks at him, she'll break down and never make it to the cure.

As she approaches the safe, she notices that it's still closed, "They're dead! Open the safe!" She pulls at the handle, but it doesn't budge, "You told me you'd open it after I–"

She's cut off by the feeling of an arrow being stabbed through her back. She looks down to see it went all the way through and is now sticking out of her stomach.

Y/N turns to see the Stiles look alike staring down at her. She can see where she missed his heart and pulled the arrow out of his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers to him.

Her claws rip through his neck as he tries to swipe through hers. She hears the safe behind click open as his body hits the floor.

She needs to get the cure for Peter, but she can't do that with an arrow sticking out of her. She shakily breaks off the sharp end of the arrow that's sticking out of her stomach. Her screams of pain echo throughout the room as she pulls the rest of the arrow out from her back.

Once the arrow is fully out of her, she drops it to the floor and quickly grabs the cure for Peter. She hobbles over to Peter before jamming the needle into the same place they drugged him before. She's hoping that whatever she just gave him was a cure and not something to kill him more.

Y/N jumps a little as Peter starts to gasp for air. The cure worked its way through his body and killed off the previous drug Hydra had given him.

He slowly sits up and notices the blood on Y/N's hands. He looks behind her to see the dead bodies scattered on the floor.

"Did you have to kill them?" Peter questions her, his voice low and raspy.

"It was the only way to save you." She replies, hoping he won't be disgusted with her since she did it to save his life.

"Promise?"

She holds out her pinky finger towards him, "I promise."

As they shake pinky fingers, he notices her ripped shirt and the large claw marks on her stomach as well as what appears to be a puncture wound, "Are you okay? Do I need to do anything?"

"You're the one who almost died. I should be asking you that." Y/N giggles at him, "I'll be fine. I'll heal."

"Well done Shadow Wolf," the voice booms through the room again, "It wasn't your fastest time, but you are a bit out of practice."

"My name is Y/N, not Shadow Wolf! Why don't you come in here and we can see how fast I can kill you!" Y/N exclaims.

The voice chuckles through the speakers, "We will meet in due time. Now I think it's time we move onto phase two."

The same mist from the last room starts to fall from the ceiling before surrounding her and Peter. Their vision goes black as they fall to the ground unconscious, unknowing of what’s to come.

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@vicmc624 @mrspetxrs @freyathehuntress @fheresm @stefans-wife @taketimeandappreciate @youralphawolf72 @ornella0910 @shedsblood @ts1mp0ne @beautifulgrungekid @danielle-leah1997 @itmejado @ivettt @james-bucky-barnes-bitch @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @darkenwolfie @lokiandbuckywife @ladyjenjay @xx-narcissa @elite4cekalyma @thecrazytealady @misshale21 @cevans-winchester @fayhay14 @wtfcas @hinata7346 @randomhoex @mirakeul @spencerreidsbookclub @llamaproblem @emily-roberts @me-unintentionally @inyourmomsworld @depressedsleepysloth

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 4 years ago

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Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time.

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night.

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.”

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him.

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Language.”

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.”

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series.

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it.

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words.

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked.

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it.

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.”

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth.

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable.

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.”

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room.

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse.

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm.

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress.

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely.

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit.

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide.

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred.

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm.

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip.

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul.

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure.

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question.

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack.

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled.

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock.

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place.

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic.

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.”

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary.

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed.

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.”

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.”

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud.

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them.

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed.

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.”

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#negan #negan fanfiction #negan smut #negan fanfic #negan fanfics #irresistible danger #ash writes #twd #the walking dead #negan x reader #negan x you #slow burn #twd negan #the walking dead negan

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vicious-vixxxen · 4 years ago

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STOP because why am I crying over dadzawa??

I may not be caught up with season 4 quite yet, but I know plenty about Eri, and everyone’s Headcanons for her and Shinsou being like adopted kids for Aizawa/Aizawa&Hizashi and I just-

Bare with me

Y/N and Aizawa were high school sweethearts, and carried on a strong relationship after school and well into your hero years. But that all changes when you bring up wanting kids with Aizawa, and he’s vehemently against the idea of bringing children into your world. He thinks the risk is too great for heroes, even underground ones like he is. But you’ve always wanted children, so this causes a rift between the two of you that ends with you agreeing it’s best that you split up.

Flash forward, you’re both teaching, Aizawa at UA, you at a public elementary school. You’re brought in to private tutor Eri at UA, where you have to see Aizawa every day, and as the months pass you notice how /good/ he is with Eri. How soft, and gentle, and kind he is with her. How she makes him smile, a smile that reminds you of the secret ones he used to give you when it was just the two of you together.

Eri loves you, she spends hours each day with you, always questioning, always wondering- thriving despite the trauma she clearly carries. And every day she goes home with Aizawa, who goes quiet and watches so intensely as you say goodbye to her each day. Prepping her with her little coat and lunchbox, before kissing her forehead and shooing her off with Aizawa. It sends a pang of guilt through his chest each time he ushers her out, a different pain shooting through your heart as he holds her hand gently, and swings it as they walk out of the room.

Bonus points for pain if Aizawa goes home to Hizashi each night. You thinking of him, him thinking of you, even as Aizawa lays next to Hizashi, knowing he loves him, but also realizing suddenly his love for you was never gone. Simply dormant.

How troubling indeed.

It would all come to a head just after the year Mark, when Eri has had an especially good day of quirk training, and excitedly screams ‘daddy!’ when Aizawa comes to pick her up. The way he scoops her into his arms, and peppers her face with kisses- Hizashi right behind him, arms around Shota’s waist, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Eri’s, as she goes off about her day.

Your heart breaks then. Because you want that to be you. You’ve always wanted that, and you’d never wanted it with anyone but Shota.

You’re jealous. And angry. And sad. And even as you turn, hiding your tears from them as you bid them goodbye, you’re happy for Shota. Because you want him to be loved, and feel full, and happy. And he is. Just not with you.

Hizashi sees though. He sees the way shota’s eyes linger on you as they leave the room, sees the glimmer of tears at the corner of your eyes before you turned away. It hurts him as much as it hurts Shota, though Shota would never admit to it. He assumed it would hurt Hizashi, but Hizashi understands. He knows Shota loves him, would never betray him in any way, shape, or form.

But loving two people at once, wasn’t a betrayal. At least not to Hizashi. Especially when the exuberant hero had his own feelings for you.

He’d always been jealous of the two of you in school, you and Aizawa. How Shota got to hold you, how you pulled emotion from Shota so easily. How willingly he gave himself to you, and vice versa. Hizashi wasn’t sure who he’d rather be, until he’d realized just before graduation, he just wanted to be included. You’d all been great friends, but the two of you were going off on your own journey, and he...he desperately wanted to be a part of it.

You’d never let your feelings get in the way of you and Eri’s relationship, so months continued to pass. You had good days, and you had bad days, however, and today was one of the bad ones.

Just a culmination of usual frustrations, finally breaking you down. It was cold, and raining, the sky a dark grey, casting a low, dull light into the classroom where you taught Eri. She’d long gone, but you’d stuck around campus. Sitting against the edge of your desk, staring off through the window, sniffling as your tears fell freely. Arms wrapped around yourself, as you got lost in your thoughts. Of what used to be, what was now. What you wished for, and what you needed to do to be okay again. Because you’d be okay. It would just take time.

And then tentative, sure arms would wrap around yours, and you’d freeze. The warm scent of cotton, and musk overwhelming your senses, and despite yourself, you sunk immediately into Shota’s grasp, as he brought you in for a hug. Your bodies meddling together just as perfectly as they had all those years ago. Your head in the crook of his neck, eyes closed, as you turned, and he wrapped you fully in his arms. Not saying a word. And you didn’t either.

Not even when a second warm body was pressed to your back- long blonde hair falling over your shoulder as you lifted your head. Staring back at Hizashi, as the man crowded you in, locking his arms around you, and settling them on Shota’s waist. You were boxed in, heat flooding you from both sides, their mingled scents a comfort you hadn’t known since you were teens.

Glancing between the both of them felt like you were in a dream- but they never took their eyes off you. Shota lifted a brow in question, features soft, and the three of you stood still, before you nodded slowly, and settled your face back into Aizawa’s neck. Hugging him even tighter, and humming a soft assurance as Hizashi brushed his lips against your ear, before kissing just below it softly.

AH I DONT KNOW WHAT THIS IS BUT I LOVE IT OKAY BYE

#shota aizawa x male reader #hizashi yamada x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #mha x reader #mha x male reader #shota aizawa #hizashi yamada #shotaxhizashixmalereader #erasermic #erasermic x reader #erasermic x male reader #vix ramblings

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kiyoomeii · 4 years ago

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strawberry shortcake / f!reader x l lawliet / wc: 1.5k

lake scene, knee deep in the stars / this simple season is all ours, yeah / “simple season” by hippo campus

a/n: for the past four days i’ve only been thinking about soft!l lawliet and how much i want to lay in his lap someone pls pay my bail from simp jail also! ayy first one shot ig??

cw: the use of the word ‘shit’ three times, kissing, very self indulgent, no editing just grammarly lol

Today will be one of the few times you two have gone out together since L is meticulous about keeping his identity private, and you’re grateful for the change of scenery. Instead of being cooped up in his hotel of the week, you’re out wandering a botanical garden in Tokyo. Of course, Watari made all the arrangements for the park to be conveniently closed to the public that day, but still, it’s the thought that counts.

In your left hand is a wicker basket filled with food, and your right pinky looped around L’s left pinky. As you walk through the garden, the fresh smell of flowers fills your noses and the sunshine filters through the cumulus clouds, causing droplets of sweat to collect on your back.

With anyone else, such extended periods of silence would be uncomfortable, but with L, it feels like home.

You feel a tug of resistance on your pinky and turn back to see L engrossed in a flowering tree. “What’s that?” You join him in inspecting the tree, clutching his dangling arm tight to yours and resting your head on his hunched shoulders.

“It’s a Magnolia Stellata, or Star Magnolia. I’m surprised they’re still in bloom right now.” L makes no effort to explain himself, instead opting to put a finger to his lip.

“Because…?” With your head still on his shoulder, you look up at him expectantly. He often makes statements like that without explaining himself since he assumes that everyone else knows what he’s talking about. It used to bother you when you first met, but you’ve learned that it’s just because his mind is moving a hundred miles a minute. Now, you just ask him to elaborate, and it surprisingly doesn’t bother him. When other people ask him questions that he thinks are blatantly obvious, he grows annoyed but masks it in his voice by scrunching the toes of his left foot. But with you, he never does that. Instead, he’s patient and kind. You can see it in his eyes.

“Because they are particularly susceptible to frost damage and we had a handful of very cold days this March,” he answers coolly. Where he stores this knowledge about flowers native to Tokyo despite him being from England, you will never know, but you’re thankful for the information regardless.

“Oh, I see. Thank you," you sigh. Together, you stand marveling at the light pink flowers and feeling the breeze on your backs, which causes L’s hair to sweep over your face. He quickly brushes it away for you with his free hand.

“And don’t worry, y/n, it’s not wilting; the petals are just wavy like that.” He gently tugs his arm away from you to signal that he’d like to move on, and once you release him, he takes your hand in his and leads you through the garden.

It has taken L a while to become comfortable with you enough to initiate contact first, but you’re glad that he can now. When you first began dating, things were uncomfortably stiff. You have the habit of word vomiting any time there’s too long of a pause, and L has a habit of withdrawing into his thoughts, so the first few months of dating was just a lot of you oversharing and him just listening.

You didn’t actually think he was paying attention until one day you mentioned how as a child you carried around a stuffed animal, which you affectionately named Ollie the Otter, and lost it on holiday in the US with your family. Within just three days, he bought you the exact same version of your beloved childhood stuffie. You had long since grown out of your stuffed animal phase but were touched nonetheless that he put in the effort to find you the toy, proving that he cares about you in his own way.

Ollie Jr. now sits on L's bed, always tucked under his comforter as if it’s sleeping. Sometimes, though, when L is up late at night doing work, he will wedge the otter between his knees that are pulled up to his chest and rest his chin on it so that he can smell the traces of your perfume on it. He would never admit to it, but you’ve silently watched him work many times before to know that it wasn’t just a one-time occasion.

“Would you like to stop here, y/n?” L gestures to a patch of manicured grass under the shade of a cherry blossom tree.

“Sure. Will you help me lay out the blanket?” You untangle your fingers from him to open the picnic basket you have been carrying. Truthfully, you were relieved that he wanted to stop because the basket had become increasingly heavier throughout your walk. L nods and waits for you to give him an edge of the beige checkered linen blanket so that you can place it down on the grass. As soon as it’s laid out, L splays himself out on it and watches you unpack the food.

His mouth is nearly frothing at the sweets that you place at the edge of the blanket. “I know, I brought your favorite: strawberry shortcake,” you pause to look back at him with his mouth slightly agape. “But you gotta wait until everything’s ready.” Suddenly aware of himself, L obediently closes his mouth.

At last, you sit across from L with a plate for you to share. L’s eyes grow wide as he reaches for a piece of cake until you swat it away. “Hey,” you coo in a sing-songy voice, “not so fast….” You take the fork out of his hand and cut off a small piece of cake as you feel L’s jet black eyes intensely study your movements. Silently, you lift the fork up towards L’s mouth. “Open,” you say sweetly, waiting for him to comply, which he does quickly. With a smile, you gently feed the cake to L and watch as he closes his eyes in bliss.

One part of L is telling him to be alarmed at the obvious loss of control he’s experiencing, but the other is telling him to relax and allow you to take control of the situation. As he quickly calculates the outcomes of each choice, he realizes that you’ll probably get your way anyway and that it’s no use to object. “’S it good, L?” He opens his eyes to see you watching him intently and nods. “Good, I’m glad. Now gimme a bite, will you?” A sly smile spreads across your face as you pass the other fork to him and wait for him to give you a piece.

The two of you pass some time taking bites of cake, feeding each other strawberries, and talking about random things—from the way L doesn’t like the way the grass pokes his skin to how you’re excited to finally be done with university in a few weeks. Finally, you lie down beside him and situate your head on his chest while his lean fingers languidly massage your scalp. Your breathing quickly syncs together and your chests rise and fall like waves lapping the shore.

“I’m glad we got to go out today. Thank you, y/n.” L picks up your hand resting on your belly and gives it a quick kiss. L had been working on a particularly difficult case for the past few months, which had just wrapped up, so the two of you hadn’t been able to see each other much lately.

��You’re welcome,” you rolled over onto your stomach to face L. “And thank you too. I know how hard it is for you to go into public, but I’m glad to know that you’d do it for me.” You watch as a quick smile paints L’s face, and at that moment, you feel your heart bursting with affection towards him.

“Of course I would, y/n, and I’d do it again, too.” His normally ivory-colored face flushed with color, causing him to turn away from you out of embarrassment.

“L?” He senses you staring at him and slowly meets your gaze again.

“Yes?” His onyx eyes catch yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he replies, not skipping a beat. You smile as you pepper a few kisses on his jawline towards his lips and when finally your lips meet, he presses into you more firmly than you expected. His technique is a little sloppy, but you know he’s trying. When he’s like this, trying to show you his affection instead of explaining it, he’s like a puppy who wants your attention, and who are you to refuse?

“L, I—" you say in between passionate kisses, “love you.” He immediately pulls away from you to study your facial expression. Oh shit oh shit oh shit maybe this wasn’t a good time I shouldn’t have—

“I love you, too.” He responds quickly, pulling you into another series of needy kisses.

With the whole park empty, you don’t have to hide your affection for each other, and oh, how you wish it could be like this all the time.

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quantumlocked310 · 4 years ago

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Order Up! Part 1 of 2

Extra Hot Hvitserk Macchiato for @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom on the bar!

Summary: You finally run into the cute barista from your favorite coffee shop when he’s not working. Will he be charming enough to lure you into bed? Or are you confident enough to invite him in yourself?

Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut will be in Chapter 2

Note: This is technically a sequel, but can be read without reading Pour Overs and Pastries. (but that one is really cute, so you absolutely should if you haven’t)

Crossposted on AO3

+++++

The new job was going swimmingly. Your coworkers loved you, and you were crushing problems left and right. You’d even saved the company several thousand Krone by finding a smoother, more efficient way to execute some accounting procedures. The company was so happy they’d taken the chance on you, even though they had to go through all the trouble of coordinating the visa and moving you from New York to Denmark.

You’d fallen in love with the city, and your new life. Each workday you begin with coffee from Lothbrothers. The office has a little kiosk in the foyer, but the coffee from the little shop with the cute barista is worth the extra expense.

For three months your morning routine is peppered with pleasant conversation from Sigurd, local gossip with Ivar, and a whole bunch of covert staring at the muscles in Hvitserk’s back as he putters around the bar.

Two weeks into your daily trips to the shop, Ivar had turned to you while waiting for your drink and demanded your name saying, “Du er kommet her i to uger…” before seeing the look of immense confusion on your face and switching to English while rolling his eyes. “You’ve been coming here for two weeks now. Guess you’re a regular. Why are you in Denmark?”

You’re a little taken aback at his abrupt tone, but seeing as he has spent the last two weeks staring holes into his computer it is possible he’s just a little intense. You turn to him and say “A new job. I moved from New York,” but almost can’t spit it out, because as soon as you turn to answer him his icy blue eyes capture you in their magnetic pull.

You blink and he’s no longer looking you in the eye. “New York is a long way. Why Denmark?”

Shrugging you rest a hip on the counter and check your watch quickly. “It was the first overseas company I found willing to hire an American in the position I wanted. I’m very lucky, and very good at my job. Not to mention the perk of viking men.” You wink at this handsome stranger, and he looks away, a little flustered. Perhaps if you can’t catch the barista’s eye, you’ll have fun with this Dane instead.

“Latte for Y/N.” A voice growls from your side, and you turn around to grab your drink.

“Thank you, Hvits…” He is gone before you can finish his name, without so much as a “Thank you for coming,” like usual.

You frown, but suppose it must be busier than usual and turn back to the stranger you’d been conversing with. “Excuse me, I have to run to work, but it was very nice to meet you.”

“And you as well.” The stranger waves you off, and you scurry away, mind a flurry with thoughts of what you could’ve possibly done to piss off the cute barista. Was he just busy? Did you say something to the stranger that made him angry? You realize you never got the stranger’s name, but the rest of the anxious thoughts flow away with the calming walk to your office building.

+++++

The next day you learn the stranger’s name is Ivar, and you strike up an interesting friendship. Each morning you greet each other and while you wait for coffee he tells you all about the other patrons. You learn the large man on the bench from your first day is Bjorn, Ivar’s half brother. “But that’s a story for over drinks, not coffee.” You laugh together, but you have to go before he can ask you out for those drinks.

Ivar says the man at the window is the leader of a local church. Not a priest, and not a cult leader, but almost. Ivar is unashamed about his belief in their higher power, but makes it clear he doesn’t have a large commitment to Loki’s teaching specifically. The way he speaks of the older man, it seems like something had happened between the two, but Ivar is stubborn and refuses to speak anymore on the subject.

After six weeks of talking, Ivar tells you he’s an editor for a major Danish publisher. His sharp and ruthless mind makes sure no mistake is unaddressed and you get to sample some of the works he reads as he complains about plot holes or token characters.

Ivar seems to know everyone in the cafe, or can at least point someone out as new and predict if they will come back or not. Hvitserk will sometimes chime in with a comment about a patron. That they like this or that drink. That they don’t like raisins. That he thinks yellow isn’t their color. Or he bets they work for this lawyer or that restaurant.

Over the weeks you find out more little things about the two men, and you stop flirting with Ivar. You’ve noticed it gets him flustered and he seems to actually get uncomfortable, but he refuses to talk about it and changes the subject whenever you try. So you move on, and continue the friendly banter and non-sexual subjects. You’ve learned Hvitserk will stand up for the other employees. When someone is rude to Sigurd he will take over with a menacing glare and put in their order without a smile. If he hears harassing comments from people in line he will kick them out without thought, and Ivar supports him every time.

Your affection for Lothbrothers grows with every week you spend going to the coffeeshop, and your friendship with Ivar, and your crush on Hvitserk soar with it too.

+++++

Bright and early Saturday morning finds you browsing the local market for fresh finds. On the weekends you indulge your Farmer’s Market Aesthetic side and cook anything you can find. You’ve even started to befriend one of the local boulangers after he realized you love to hear about his process for choosing bread flavors for the day.

While talking to Pierre about his sourdough starter, you notice out of the corner of your eye a tall man approach the market stall. Pierre pauses in your conversation and you turn to get a better look at who is buying.

“Hvitserk?” His name slips out of your mouth in shock. You’d never run into anyone you know, who wasn’t a vendor, at this market before.

His head whips around, eyes impossibly wide as he stares at you, clearly thinking something similar.

“It’s Y/N. From the coffeeshop. Good Morning!”

“Yes, Y/N. Ivar’s new friend. Good morning.” He seems to pause, perhaps thinking about if it’s socially acceptable to turn tail and run. But then he simply asks “How are you?”

“I am well thank you. All the better for Pierre’s delicacies.” You smile toward the seller then ask, “How are you?”

“Well also, thanks. Do you come to this market often?”

“Only every Saturday for the past, oh, five weeks? Do you come here often, as well?”

“I have not been back in a long time.” He seems to think inwardly for a moment before coming back to the present. You wonder what makes him look like that. Who ruined this peaceful market for this gorgeous man?

“Well then you won’t have met Sara yet!” You grab his free hand and start pulling him toward one of the newer market stalls. On the way over you seem to realize what you’ve done, and try to pull your hand away out of propriety, but Hvitserk tightens his hold just a little and you can feel your face heat as you continue to hold hands.

There are a few people in line when you arrive, so you continue to make small talk, asking “So what made you decide to come to the market today?”

“I like to see what’s new or in season to add to the menu for the shop. Unfortunately the schedule doesn’t always allow me to scope things out as often as I like. Yourself?”

“I try to cook locally on the weekends, since I don’t have time during the week. There is amazing produce here, wait ‘till you try…” You’re interrupted by Sara proclaiming “My favorite customer!”

You laugh and hug your friend awkwardly over the counter. “Good morning, Sara. I want you to meet Hvitserk. He’s the barista at that amazing cafe by my apartment.”

“Co-Owner and barista, actually. It’s nice to meet you.” He reaches out his hand to greet Sara.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't realize. How cool!” In all your talks, Ivar had never mentioned. You panic for a quick second before continuing. “Sara is the best beekeeper in all of the North. She also works part time with me in the office.”

“Welcome to ‘Sweet as Honey’! What can I get for you?” Sara chimes in with a big smile.

“He wants the small tasting jars. Lavender, Jalapeno, and Chai.” You turn to Hvisterk “Her flavors are ingenious and she comes up with new ones all the time. She brings in samples to work, so I'm both spoiled and biased.”

“I can’t wait.” He smiles softly. You go to pull out your wallet, but Hvitserk is already handing Sara some Krone. “You’ve bought enough coffee from me. I think I should return the favor.” He winks and inside you swoon a little. His flirty smile is a welcome change from the cool professionalism you get from him at Lothbrothers’.

“Thank you for stopping by! It was nice to meet you Hvitserk. I’ll see you on Monday, Y/N?”

“Bye, Sara! See you then.” As Hvisterk turns to walk away, Sara looks at you and points at him, then fans herself and pretends to faint. You give her a quelling look and shake your head no. She gives you an incredulous look in return, as if to say “Why not?” You shrug briefly thinking “I don’t know where this is going.”

You turn around to find Hvitserk has claimed a small bench by a tree a few feet away from Sweet as Honey. He pulls out the first of the jars, a small bag with six little cubes of bread inside, and a tiny wooden stirring stick. The heat of his body is scalding where you can feel it next to you, the bench only large enough to allow a sliver of air between you.

His large hands open the top on the Chai infused honey, and you watch his long fingers use the tiny stick to spread just enough honey on the first of the bread cubes. He offers you the cube. It would take nothing to grab it from him and pop it in your mouth, but you hesitate. He’s offered it at face level, so you take the chance. Your plump lips wrap around the soft bread, and your tongue sneaks out to lick any remaining honey off the tip of his thumb and forefinger.

In the time it takes you to chew and swallow he has acquired his own piece of honeyed bread. His is prepared lightning fast while barely taking his eyes off your face. The green of his iris is just a sliver, almost completely taken over by the black of his dilated pupils.

A quiet moan seems to force its way out of his chest as you make eye contact. “How does she get the delicate blend of cardamom and cinnamon?”

You clear your throat, but your voice is still a little husky. “I told you she was a genius. Try the Jalapeno.”

Together you try all the honeys, and Hvitserk comments on the balance of flavors, the texture, and how he would love to use some of them in either the pastries or the drinks at the shop. He also reveals that while they now have some bakers help in the morning, Hvitserk is still the one who recipe tests and makes all the menu decisions.

He puts his hand on your knee. “Stay here for a moment while I talk to Sara? I’ll be right back.” You watch him walk away and stare unabashedly at his ass perfectly hugged by his skinny jeans. He talks to the beekeeper, and you watch them exchange business cards

This day has turned out to be amazing, and you don’t want it to be over. Hvitserk has turned out to be an incredible conversation partner, and you can feel in your gut that the two of you click in a way you haven’t felt in a while.

When he returns, Hvitserk offers you both hands to help you from the bench. You take them, and as soon as you stand up you blurt out, “Come over for dinner tonight?” You wince at your tactlessness, but continue with “I bought so many good ingredients, and it would be an honor to share them with you.”

“I’m at Lothbrothers’ until 7. Can I come by after that?”

“7 is great. What’s your number? I can text you the address.”

You both exchange phones and add the new contact. When he gives yours back, you see he’s put Hvitserk Lothbrok in, but he’s also listed himself as “Hot Barista.” You roll your eyes at him when you look back up, and he throws you a flirty wink before saying goodbye and giving you a kiss on the cheek as well.

After watching him walk away you run back home and start prepping the menu, cleaning your apartment, and making sure you have some good wine to go with the meal.

Read Chapter 2 here.

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @appledressing

#hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x you #see what I did with the moodboard #hviterk is a drink #a tall glass of sweet sweet danish coffee #with caramel drizzle ontop #smut will be in the next chapter #promise #modern hvitserk

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mcwriting · 3 years ago

Text

His Mobius

Lol y'all gonna hate me for this one but what can I say, I'm obsessed with this ship and slightly disappointed in the season finale.

Not my normal jam so sorry to those who only follow me for T. Holland content

Picks up where ep 6 leaves off. Don't read if you don't wanna get spoiled lol.

Ship: Loki vs. Mobius M. Mobius (one-sided)

Word Count: 1212

Warnings: it's sad boi hours in here y'all prepare to have your heart ripped out for a second; also spoilers

⏰

The color had drained from Loki's face as he realized what was going on when he stared at the giant statue of He Who Remains.

With the intense branching of timelines, Sylvie had kicked him into a random, newly-born universe.

He turned back to the man he knew-

No. He didn't know this man.

This was Mobius. M. Mobius, but not his Mobius. M. Mobius.

"I... I- I- I need a tempad, please," Loki begged the not-his-Mobius.

"Don't you have one? Wait- I'm sorry, who are you again? You never answered my question," not-Mobius said with growing suspicion.

He didn't know this Loki, or seem to know any Lokis at all, but he still knew to question guys who came up asking frantic questions and requesting other agents' tempads.

Loki didn't know how to answer.

For once he wanted to tell the truth, but there was no way he'd be able to explain things to this not-Mobius. He didn't have time. He needed to find his Mobius.

With a swift glance, he located not-Mobuis's tempad and with even swifter precision snatched it from the man.

"Hey wait!" he cried, but it was too late.

Loki had already punched in random numbers and opened a portal, stepping through into the unknown.

⏰

The yellow rectangle behind Loki closed as soon as he stepped through, and he knew that with all the chaos, he probably wouldn't ever be found.

As he got his bearings, Loki started to register the sights and sounds around him, along with the humid heat that made his already sweaty skin feel even stickier.

He blinked a couple times before realizing what he was looking at.

Somewhat.

He was in a rainforest.

"Midgard. This- I'm on earth," he muttered to himself, brows furrowed.

Back before the TVA, he'd spent years plotting his takeover of the planet. The Asgardian libraries had contained books filled with knowledge about earth's nature and climate systems, something he'd used to his advantage when planning where he wanted to rule from.

While he didn't know a thing about earth customs or technology, Loki could easily tell the difference between a chimpanzee and a capuchin, or explain how hibiscus flowers were great in tea.

The real question was when is he?

Loki looked at his tempad.

Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica. 2015.

It made sense. Loki remembered that the country was known for its lush landscapes.

There was no telling what universe he was in. He wondered if he could find someone to fill in in the 3 years since the battle of New York, if that had even happened in this timeline.

He took a look around. The foliage was bright green, and he spotted a toucan on a nearby branch. There was the occasional scream of a howler monkey echoing through the trees.

A few feet away, just past a few trees, was a dirt path. Signs that people had walked this trail many times.

Of course, a worry popped into the back of Loki's head that claimed a hungry jaguar had paced there as it looked for a meal, trampling the grass in search of prey.

His fears were quelled, however, when he heard faint voices nearing.

He stepped behind a wide tree and watched carefully as a man in a neon shirt led a family down the trail.

Loki spotted 5 kids, who all looked between the ages of 8 and 18. Interspersed among them were 4 adults who looked to be in their 40s or 50s.

At the back of the pack walked two older men. A shorter guy with snow white hair who looked to be in his 70s, and a taller one whose hair was very much salt-and-peppered, likely in his 60s.

The brightly-clothed guide was explaining to them all of the wonderful things Costa Rica had to offer, from its diverse flora and fauna to the beaches, mountains, and rainforests.

Loki was about to pop out from the wood and ask if this family could explain what the avengers were up to, or if they even existed at all here. He knew he would look ridiculous with his torn up TVA clothes but didn't care.

Finding Mobius was more important.

Before he could call out a greeting, he stopped dead in his tracks, blood running cold.

That voice.

He knew that voice anywhere.

The shorter old guy had cut in to make a joke to his family.

"I need to know where to get a jet ski around here."

Mobius.

That was him, but what was he doing here?

Loki felt weird seeing what it would have looked like for his Mobius to live on earth up to this point, assuming that the TVA variants of him had been plucked from the mid-1990s.

"Daaaad," one of the middle aged women groaned.

He has a daughter. Are those his grandchildren?

"You know we brought you on vacation to get you away from your jet ski, right dad?" another of the middle-agers said, a man who looked to be the youngest in his generation group.

A son as well?

"I'll have you know that the jet ski was the greatest invention of our time, of all history, even!" old-Mobius explained light-heartedly.

The taller man next to him placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I think we can manage a week without, my dear."

Loki gasped.

That was him speaking to old-Mobius. Well, not him, but an old version of him.

It didn't make sense.

Loki was well over 1000 years old. An Asgardian diety. A jotun.

He wouldn't just age like that. Not unless he sacrificed something to do so.

Loki couldn't help but notice, though, that while old-Loki's face was considerably wrinklier than his own, the man he looked at was void of worry lines around his eyes and forehead.

He looked genuinely happy.

Loki shifted as best he could to stay hidden behind the tree as he watched what played out ahead of him.

"Oh, alright, alright. I guess I can manage going without ole Lightning for the week if it means I've got y'all to entertain me. But just know that I'm taking everyone out on the lake as soon as we get back to Texas."

Old-Mobius, or whatever his midgardian name really was, smiled at his old-Loki, placing an hand over his lower back.

"I think that can be arranged," old-Loki agreed, quickly pressing a kiss to old-Mobius's temple as he wrapped an arm over the shorter man's shoulders.

Loki didn't even realize that there were tears sliding down his cheeks until the pang in his heart made him turn away from the happy family.

Because it wasn't just Mobius's family, it was his.

He didn't know how the two had found each other, how this Loki had somehow evaded godhood to live a domestic, midgardian life.

Loki couldn't stay here. He couldn't disturb and be caught by them.

He needed to find his Mobius, maybe figure out how to start a life like that.

It wouldn't be easy, jumping through the multiverse searching for that hard-headed, sarcastic, witty, crazy TVA analyst Loki had somehow fallen for, but he had to try.

So with the coast clear, he reset the tempad and stepped through another portal.

For his Mobius.

⏰

A/N: my heart is going to explode. Why did I feel the need to torture myself in this way? Anyways, I wrote it, so y'all gotta read it.

I don't make the rules.

Let me know what you thought! I love and hate this simultaneously so I'd love some feedback. Thanks for reading!!

Once again, sorry for those who follow me for Tom Holland stuff but I really wanted to write this!

If you would like to be added to any of my taglists, please message or send an ask so I can verify that you've been added!

Not tagging my permanent tag list since this isn't my normal content!

#his mobius #justice for mobius #loki #loki tv #loki laufeyson #loki x mobius #loki 2021 #loki spoilers #lokius #mobius #mobius m mobius #loki mobius #loki oneshot #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction

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bubblesuga · 4 years ago

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Oblivious To Adoration (m)

Summary: After an intense night of drunken sex, Jungkook realizes he wants more. When he suggests an idea to you, you were shocked. However, who were you to say no to Mr. Jeon Jungkook?

W/C: 3,106

Next Part

Warnings: smut, cussing, unintentional cuteness, a bit of fluff, friends to lovers AU

“All I’m asking is one summer.” Jungkook spoke, his arms gesturing wildly as he followed you through campus. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, rolling your eyes at your best friend who also happened to have the most impeccable talent of getting on your nerves lately.

“What exactly are you implying?” You raise a brow, watching him struggle to keep up with your pace. You were fast, especially when you didn’t want to be late.

"You know what I’m implying. Then after that we can go back to acting like nothing happened and move on with our lives as far as... that... goes.” Jungkook gave you a small grin, shy yet sure of himself.

“As far as what goes?” You knew what he was talking about. He knew you knew as well, but you still wanted to hear him say it.

It started off oddly casual.

Having both celebrated the end of exam season, you got drunk at Yoongi’s and Seokjin’s apartment. It wasn’t a party or anything, just 8 people sat in a circle getting wasted in an attempt to calm the anxiety that you could have failed all of your tests even though it was unlikely.

Unfortunately for you, you get extra touchy when you’re drunk. Not that Jungkook minded that you clung to his side at every second of the night, he thought you smelled nice and he enjoyed the feeling of you beside him. Then before you could realize what you were doing or the consequences that could follow, you were leading him to a separate room and having sex.

To say it wasn’t good would be a lie. It was, from what you could remember, the best sex you had ever had in your entire life. All the way down to the way his fingertips grazed across your tits softly, the already impeccably sensitive nubs responding to his every touch.

When you woke up the next day, you pretended not to remember any of it. Only gripping your temples and watching him pull himself out of bed to grab you some water and Tylenol. You remembered enough to know that if you continued this path, it could be both detrimental to your friendship and your mind. One time thing, you repeatedly told yourself.

“Sex, between you and I.” Jungkook said a touch bit too loudly for your liking, causing a few fellow students to turn their head in wonder. He looked around with a blush, “I mean- I’d still want to be friends afterward and all that but we could just think of it as practice.”

You finally stop your incessant speed-walking, turning to look at him, “You think I need practice?”

“What? N- no! That’s not what I- ah, sheesh,” He tilts his head in embarrassment and covers his face, rubbing it in frustration, “harmless fun! It’d be some harmless fun for the summer.”

The truth was, Jungkook couldn’t get you off of his mind after that night. Especially the next morning, watching you stretch in bed and the white sheets slipped off of your torso while you searched around for your bra. He couldn’t wipe the shock from his face at the memories from the previous night racing through his head. It’s not like he hadn’t ever thought about seeing you naked before, or pressing his tongue flat against your burning heat as you writhed beneath him. He just never thought he’d be in a position to actually do so.

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you slip your bag off your shoulder and roll your neck as you went over the pros and cons in your head.

Pros- Jungkook is really good with his mouth, he has a huge dick but doesn’t rely solely on his size to pleasure you, and if you were completely honest with yourself you wouldn’t necessarily mind having a friends with benefits situation with him even if it’s temporarily.

Cons- Jungkook is your friend, your best friend. He was there when you went through your first break up, and you were there when he had to change majors. There hadn’t been a day that passed where you didn’t talk to him, hug him, thought of him. You had a good thing going with him and you definitely hated the trope of best friends ruining their friendship because of personal needs or wants.

Jungkook looked down into your eyes, a sense of dread filling him at your silence. He wasn’t sure why he let Jimin talk him into asking you. He knew that there was consequences but Jimin just kept saying “you’re only in your early 20s once!” and “what’s the worst that could happen?”

Rejection. An ended friendship. Dying of embarrassment.

The list goes on.

“End of the summer, we go back to friends minus the benefits,” You spoke up finally, crossing your arms over your chest, “and we don’t tell anyone we’re doing this. This is only for pleasure, right? We don’t need to add the drama of other people’s opinions.”

Jungkook’s excitement bubbled to the surface, wiping away his previous fear of rejection. You rose an eyebrow at the way he jumped up and down, his back pack bouncing along with his movements. He resisted the urge to pull you in for a kiss, opting instead for a hug.

“I’ll text you later and we’ll go over logistics,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “I’m excited.”

“Yeah,” you smile tightly, “me too.”

~*~*~

The day went by too quickly for your liking.

It’s not like you weren’t excited for the idea, you were just... scared. Scared of what could happen, scared of how both of you would handle ending it, scared of falling for him.

Of course you had a crush on him, but it was so small that you swallowed your feelings and opted for being friends with him instead. Besides, it’s not like he’d want to settle down in college anyway. Especially after having seen the way he his door was pretty much revolving with gorgeous women.

To: (Y/N) From: Kookie Come to my apartment, Tae is out of town.

You didn’t respond, instead pulling you out of your bed and preparing an overnight bag quickly. You have spent the night with him before, just never with the implication of sex being the main reason.

Suddenly you were unsure of what to wear. Before you never had to deal with the stress of looking ‘sexy’. You’d show up in your sweats and a T-shirt, beer in one hand and snacks in another. It was completely platonic, even if your mind wandered when Jungkook opened the door in matching grey sweats and no shirt on his torso.

Deciding it best to dress in some lace lingerie underneath your clothes, you’d leave it hidden for a while until Jungkook was ready for you. Covering your lingerie in a black shirt and black leggings, you grabbed your keys and drove silently to Jungkook’s apartment.

On the other side of town, Jungkook was burning himself with matches.

“It’s for the ambiance,” Jungkook spoke, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, “just to make it sexy. Not romantic.”

Jimin snorted on the other end, “Whatever you say, man. I’m just saying, candles makes it seem like you’re trying to marry her.”

“What?” Panic freezes the blood in Jungkook’s veins, “n- no! I’m trying to seduce her, not marry her!”

Staring at his bed, six candles are lit in various places in the room. Peppered suede, a scent that Google says is number 4 on the list of most erotic and relaxing candles to use to get your girl into the mood. He began to think about how stupid it was until Jimin spoke again, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Alright, I respect the attempt.”

“Remember you can’t say anything to her about this-- she doesn’t know it was your idea and doesn’t want anyone knowing.” Jungkook explained hurriedly, wafting the scent of the candles into his nose.

Jimin chuckled, “Of course, Kookie. My lips are sealed.”

With that, Jungkook heard a knock at his door and hung up quickly with a quiet goodbye. He rushed towards the front door and quickly adjusts his clothes so he can look somewhat presentable. His hair was still wet from his earlier shower, but he wanted to make sure that he was perfect for you, in every sense of the way.

With the door swinging open, he took in your appearance carefully. Now that he had seen you- all of you -he wasn’t able to see anything else. He was growing hard just at the thought of seeing you like that again.

“Hi,” you said, suddenly fully aware of the circumstances. A shy blush spreads across both of your faces as Jungkook’s eyes scanned up and down your body.

Jokingly, you step inside and spin around, giggling softly as you did so. He grabbed your hand, pulling you close to him, “Did you dress up just for me?”

“Dress up, huh? Is that what you call this?” You tease, remembering that this was just Jungkook. He was your best friend, there was no need to be so shy about anything especially since you both established boundaries that you know you’ll be sure to follow.

He didn’t respond, instead locking his lips with yours.

Jungkook just couldn’t help himself, your lips were so inviting and unbelievably plump. Sucking softly on your bottom lip, he moved his hands down your back and brought them to rest at the base of your spine. Clutching the hem of your shirt in his hands, you allowed yourself to be fully immersed in all things Jungkook.

Feeling his body slowly guiding you back towards his bedroom, you allowed him to undress you along the way. In the hallway, he drops to his knees in front of you and pulls your leggings down quickly.

Looking up, he took in your lingerie, the navy blue color complimenting your flushed skin deliciously. He couldn’t help but grin, leaning forward and swiping his tongue on your exposed pelvic bone. You immediately jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair and tugging at the roots. He moved down further, inhaling your scent through your underwear, causing a rush of lust and desire to shoot through your body as he did so.

“P- please.” you stutter, watching Jungkook pull away with concern lacing his features.

“What do you want, babygirl?” His voice was much deeper than usually, the way he looked up at you had you dripping almost instantly.

“More.” It felt like your tongue was broken, resulting in any noise leaving your mouth being a moan. You wondered if you could cum untouched, because Jungkook’s hands on your hips had you reeling.

Jungkook’s heart hammered against his ribcage, and he preyed you couldn’t hear it as he stood once again, “I’ll give you more. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Grinning, you lean up and capture his lips hungrily, all anxiety diminished.

Finally, you reached Jungkook’s room, a trial of clothing and underwear on the way. The last item separating you two was his briefs, which he was straining against. Your mouth watered at the sight, your fingers dancing across his hardening cock. Pushing him back onto the bed, you couldn’t help but tug his boxers down quickly.

The cool air against Jungkook’s aching member caused him to gasp, his eyes not leaving your body as you moved up the bed and straddled his leg. He let out a hiss as you wrap your hand around his shaft, freezing in place.

Thinking he had suddenly changed his mind, you go to pull away but you are stopped by Jungkook’s hand gripping your wrist, “No, keep going.”

Smiling, you feel his hand guide yours up and down until he feels you have a good enough rhythm. Then, he throws his head back and scrunches his eyes closed at the feeling of heat washing over his body. Beads of precum drip from Jungkook’s cock, your mouth watering at the sight. Without thinking much about it, you lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around to collect all the precum.

Jungkook groans loudly, his hands flying to your hair and collecting it from around your face in a makeshift ponytail. His hips instinctively stuttered up, his jaw fully agape as he watched his cock disappear between your lips. He always knew you would look so pretty with a cock in your mouth, the amount of times he dreamed about this was beyond countable.

Eventually his hips twitched, driving him deeper into your mouth. “Sorry,” he flushed, feeling you gag as he reached the base of your throat.

“No need to be.” You respond, hearing him moan when you move, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. “Oh my god,” Jungkook attempts to bite his lip to silence his moans but he just couldn’t help himself.

Panic begins to flood his mind when he felt his balls tighten, “S- stop! Don’t wanna- ah-”

Sensing his panic, you pull off of him with a pop and sit back on your heels, looking up at him obediently.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaves while you wait patiently. You enjoyed having this sort of control over him. It was nice knowing that he could be writhing beneath you in seconds, because outside of the bedroom it wasn’t like that, it was the complete opposite in fact.

Thinking back to a time where you hid behind Jungkook as he helped you confront a professor on a bad grade you didn’t deserve, you couldn’t help but smirk at the role reversal.

“I want to feel you.” Jungkook finally whispered, and that was all the reassurance you needed to pounce.

The kiss was all teeth and need, an indescribable feeling taking over both of you. Quickly and without warning, you straddled Jungkook’s thighs and sunk down on him.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook didn’t swear often, but he just couldn’t help himself with you. It brought no complaints from you though, because the words sent jolts of electricity though you. “You’re so soaked, how are you this tight?”

A throaty giggle left your mouth, but was quickly replaced by a gasp as Jungkook lifted you up and slammed you back down onto his cock. His arms loop beneath your knees, his hands holding your waist while he continued to life you up and down. You knew he was strong but, fuck, you didn’t expect him to be using you like his own personal pocket pus-

“Right there! Fuck, more!” You fling yourself forward, pushing his face against your chest and feeling his lips latch around your nipple and bit down. Feeling Jungkook reach a place that had never been touched before, you felt your wetness dripping down your legs and landing on Jungkook’s thighs. Your arousal was unbelievable, and Jungkook was determined to make sure you came harder than you ever had before.

That power you felt earlier was now gone, and you were a puddle in on top of him. Vulnerability took over you, trusting Jungkook with your whole being. Trusting that he would take care of you, trusting that he meant no harm with this whole situation, trusting him.

“Kook, I think I’m gonna come.” You moan, feeling him nip at your collarbone. Another gasp falls from your lips as Jungkook throws you onto the bed, his cock not leaving inside you.

His stilled inside you, kissing you harshly before pulling back, “You’re gonna come on my cock like a good girl, aren’t you?”

You nod enthusiastically, inhaling your excitement as Jungkook held your hips into the bed and pulled nearly all the way out of you, before slamming back into you punishingly. You cry out, your hand moving down to your clit and rubbing quick circles while you rode out your high.

"Yes, baby girl, come for me. Squeeze my cock.” Jungkook groaned, biting his lip and letting you ride out your high. White hot pleasure coursed through your veins, your back arching off of his bed.

Unable to take the squeeze of you anymore, he pulls out much to your dismay and begins to stroke himself above you. Still reeling from your orgasm, you watch in awe while Jungkook strokes himself to completion, spurting white strings of his release across your stomach.

His cum begins to dribble down your stomach and onto his bed. Then he collapses beside you in a panting heap.

You two lay like that for a while, sighing in contempt while your mind fell blank of any and all negative thoughts. Eventually the stickiness on your stomach made you feel uneasy, so you went to move to the bathroom but was stopped quickly by Jungkook.

He walks to the bathroom, collecting your bag on the way and wetting a washcloth with warm water. When he reentered the room, you were laying with your hands behind your head and your legs crossed tightly. He grinned at the sight, you still spent with his orgasm spread across your body. He liked the way you looked in general, but he could almost feel himself twitching yet again at the sight of you now.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay?” Jungkook, now shy again, tentatively wiped your torso clean. You watched him go eye level with your pelvis, pressing a soft kiss to your hip bone as he cleaned you up.

It was such a small move, but you felt your stomach flutter. Especially at the way he looked up at you through his eyelashes. When you were finally clean, he pulls himself up and laces his legs through yours, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

“Do you still think I need some practice?” You joke, hearing him snort from above you, “because I’m pretty sure you don’t need it.”

“Well if I say you don’t, then we won’t do this again. But if I say you do, then you’ll get mad and we won’t do this again,” Jungkook shrugged, “so I’m going to keep quiet on the subject.”

“Master of deceit,” you smack his chest, “I already agreed until the end of the summer.”

Jungkook felt a slight twinge in his chest at the way you smacked him, his heart fluttering at the gesture despite you having done it many times prior to you two sleeping together.

“Right,” he responded, pressing another kiss to your temple, “until the end of the summer.”

#ahahaha what am i doing with my life I'm writing a friends to lovers AU whO AM I #yknow what #i love what i have planned for this #i hope you enjoy it to babies #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook smut #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x reader smut

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janeykath318 · 3 years ago

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The Gardener Next Door

Darcy felt like she’d finally made it: finished her PhD and found a great job that allowed her to upgrade from her tiny apartment to her very own house in the suburbs. It needed a little work, but it had charm and personality and Darcy took several months making it her own. The neighborhood she lives in was mostly elderly people or young newlywed couples and the people were generally very friendly. Sweet Mrs. Messer brought her over baked goods regularly and shared the local gossip while Old Mrs. Richards brought her puppy over for regular visits. Before she’d lived there six months, she knew almost everyone on the block except for her next door neighbor on the left, who didn’t appear to be the sociable type.

Even Mrs. Messer hadn’t been able to find out much information, other than his name was something Grant and he liked to garden and preferred to be left alone.

“He must be one of those grumpy old hermit types,” Mrs. Messer sighed. “Never answered the door when I went to bring him a welcome to the neighborhood pie. I wonder what happened to the poor man to make him so wary of people.”

“I don’t know, but maybe you could try leaving some on his front porch with a friendly note. Once he’s discovered the glory of your chocolate chip cookies, he might just loosen up a little.” Darcy suggested.

This cheered up Mrs. Messer and she scurried off to start baking.

Mysterious Neighbor Dude clearly preferred a motorcycle as his form of transportation, but he always pulled right into the garage, so she was never able to get a glimpse of him without his helmet.

As spring went on, Darcy started spending more time outside in her cozy lounge chair, from which she started noticing her neighbor working outdoors. Even from the distance she could see by the way he moved, he was still in the prime of life and he appeared to be a workout fiend, judging by the size of his shoulders and arms.

He wore a big floppy straw hat that kept the sun off, which was probably a good thing because he was working in his garden almost nonstop on sunny days. It was kind of fascinating watching the progression from bare dirt to tiny plants. So far, their only interaction was a friendly wave when he caught her staring and Darcy was dying for more, but he’d never approached her and she didn’t want to invade his privacy.

But then she came home one day to find a big basket of lettuce and radishes on her front porch.

There was a note with them:

“Sharing some lettuce with you. It makes delicious salads. Have a nice day!”

The note was not signed and Darcy squinted at it for quite awhile like it would suddenly start talking and reveal its author, but alas, no such luck.

The lettuce did make excellent salads and she thought about her hunky neighbor with every bite.

Mrs. Messer came over very excitedly to report that the cookies had been taken and she too had been given a basket of lettuce.

“Looks like you were right, Darcy. The man just needed a little kindness. I wonder if he likes lemon bars…..”

As the weeks went by, the gifts of veggies continued, varying as different things came into season. Peppers, carrots, tomatoes, and green beans all arrived steadily and were either quickly eaten or given to Darcy’s vegetarian co-worker.

Darcy started replying to his notes on the fifth basket and soon they had a funny banter going back and forth, filled with vegetable puns.

“Lettuce be friends?” She wrote on the note left in the empty basket which had previously held plump red tomatoes and would be supplying her with BLTs for a long time.

“Yes, peas!” he’d replied on the next basket, which did contain the mentioned vegetable.

“Why are you so cute and unreachable?” Darcy murmured to herself, stashing the note away with a smile.

She laid out sunbathing in her favorite bathing suit the next day and since there was no fence between their backyards, the hot neighbor dude got a nice view. This time it was Darcy who caught him staring and waved happily, pretty sure he was blushing. Ugh. He was just too adorable. She wanted to March over there and plant one on him, pun slightly intended. He briefly took off his hat to wipe sweat off of his face and she caught a glimpse of dark hair and beard. Dang it, that was a GOOD look!!

The notes and vegetable puns continued, but now they were accompanied by cute sketches of cartoon vegetables representing the various neighbors. Darcy absolutely loved it and it proved her suspicions that the so-called hermit was much more observant than he seemed.

“So you’re an artist as well as a champion gardener? Is there anything you can’t do?” She wrote on the next note.

“Plenty,” he replied back. “I sure can’t bake and I can’t seem to be able to remember how to speak when my pretty neighbor is around.”

Darcy was floored, but thrilled, and wrote and rewrote seven replies before she finally figured out how to word her response.

“Here I was thinking you didn’t want to talk to me. Guess we’re both disasters at communicating.”

The response to this rang Darcy’s doorbell the very next evening and she opened it to see her neighbor, up close and personal, looking all kinds of shy and adorable and holding out a bouquet of gorgeous flowers that she knew came from his yard.

“Aww, how sweet!” She exclaimed, accepting the flowers eagerly. “They’re beautiful. Nice to finally meet you……….”

Her voice trailed off as she recognized the gorgeous and famous face in front of her.

“Steve,” he finished quietly, almost apologetically. “I’m sorry for the secrecy. I’ve been hiding out living the retired life and trying my hand at new hobbies.”

He looked even more nervous now, probably thinking she was going to either throw him out or go yelling to the neighbors.

“Please, come in,” she told him, heart pounding. “I’m Darcy Lewis, astrophysicist and former Avengers wrangler. I did NOT recognize you from across the yard with the dye job. It’s a good look, though. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks,” Steve sighed, relaxing a touch. “I think I remember seeing you yelling at Tony a few times. It was pretty neat, the way you made him cower.”

“I learned early on, Tony needed a firm hand or he would never eat or sleep and bad things happened,” Darcy recalled, with a pang of sadness. “You guys saved the world,” she added. “I think you’ve more than earned your privacy and a peaceful retirement.”

Steve cracked a crooked smile. “That’s very gracious of you. Some days, it’s a pretty big struggle for me to believe that, thinking about everyone we lost. Gardening’s been keeping me sane.”

“And you’re doing a fabulous job with it. I’ve never had such perfect tomatoes,” Darcy told him with a smile.

“I was pretty proud of them,” Steve admitted, then he grew serious again and looked at her very earnestly with those gorgeous blue eyes.

“Darcy, do you still want to…”

“Yes,” Darcy interrupted. “Heck yes. I like you, Steve. I didn’t really know you apart from Captain America before and I’m finding regular Steve to be more irresistible than Mrs. Messer’s lemon bars.”

Steve chuckled and started to turn pink, which was even cuter seen close up.

“Given how amazing those are, that’s high praise,” he remarked, with a twinkle in his eye. “Looks like I’ve got a lot of missed opportunities to make up for.”

They shared another long look and Steve moved into her personal space with intent-to-kiss written all over his face.

Darcy was very much down for that and nodded eagerly, wrapping her arms around him. The pent up feelings resulted in a pretty intense kiss, which left her weak in the knees and practically hanging onto Steve for dear life.

“Well that was worth it,” she whispered, when she’d caught her breath. “I’m so glad you didn’t actually go to the moon. There’s been rumors.”

Steve full on laughed at that, a joyous sight which she’d never witnessed before, but was very glad to finally see. His eyes crinkled, his face lit up and he looked so adorably cute, her heart turned into a puddle of goo.

“Don’t know where they came up with that one,” he remarked, shaking his head in amusement. “But I have no intentions of going to the moon. I’d rather stay here with you.”

“Good, because I need some more of those green beans, ASAP,” Darcy replied mischievously, barely refraining from making an eggplant joke. She didn’t want to be TOO forward.

“How about you come over and I can give you the grand tour?” Steve suggested.

“Yes, peas.” She responded, making him laugh again.

Before long, the neighbors were gossiping again, this time over the shocking sight of “Mr. Grant” making out with Dr. Lewis right in his backyard.

“I knew it!” Old Mrs. Richards chuckled, petting her dog gleefully.

“I’ll volunteer to make their wedding cake!” Exclaimed Mrs. Messer.

#shieldshock #Darcy Lewis #Steve Rogers #retired! Steve #fluff

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tcookies777 · 3 years ago

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Here is a sneak peek at a side story I've written for The Anatomy of Love (a KakaSaku modern college au - AO3 hyperlink included)! You don't need to have read the fic to read this side story since this is a flashback to Kakashi's past when he was a teen, but it does help to understand since it's in the context of the fic itself!

The Anatomy of Love: Side Story - The Angel from Hell

About 14 years ago….

Summer in Sound country was utter shit.

Fire country had its droughts for sure during this season, and more often than not the trees would catch fire just from the mere glare of the sun on a dried leaf. But at least the trees also offered plenty of protection from the heat so long as the Firewatch was making sure those trees weren’t burning first.

Sound country, on the other hand, had nothing but empty golden plains that seemed to stretch on for eternity. If it didn’t look like a sort of heaven, Kakashi would’ve thought he was in hell what with the sun burning through his clothes and the scorched patches of earth peppered throughout the fields—a telltale sign of the bombs that had rained down on the area not too long ago.

A summer thunderstorm last week had given them a brief reprieve from the intense heat wave, but it had still left them uncomfortably soaked in their own clothes. A week later, the sun was back with a fiery vengeance, and they were back to soaking through their tactical gear in their own stink and sweat again, but this time with the muck of the marshlands clinging to their boots.

It had taken almost the whole day to sludge through the marshes and find shelter at a farmhouse that seemed to have been completely abandoned days ago. They’d cleared the house and finished in disappointment upon finding that all of the livestock were either gone or already getting feasted on by the maggots. Most of the food in the pantry had also long been raided save for a single jar of strawberry jam and a cracked egg left to spoil on a shelf. It wasn’t that everyone was starving—although they were certainly hungry after a day out trudging through a war zone—but a jar of sweet strawberry jelly was practically bliss compared to their MRE rations. Even Kakashi himself was getting wearier and wearier over every pound of rice he had to eat with the bland curry packed in his ration meal.

So the moment Anzu had spotted the bright red jar, there had immediately been a scuffle over who got to eat it. Being the fifth in command (and with the first four already dead), Kakashi had asserted the order that each person would get their fair share of strawberry jelly: one scoop and only after they’d finished their MREs for tonight. Everyone except Obito had glanced warily at each other, reluctant to follow the command of a 17-year-old boy despite him outranking them all. But, not wanting to throw a tantrum over strawberry fucking jelly of all things, they’d each grunted in answer.

And now that last bit of the jelly was getting scraped out of its jar by Obito after Kakashi had passed his share over to him. Sweets weren’t his thing anyway even if he would kill for something homemade rather than a meal full of preservatives.

The leftover spicy powder clung to the base of Kakashi’s back teeth no matter how many times he swigged down some water from his canteen. It was like chewing on sediment, and judging by the faces of everyone else, he was willing to bet none of them were intent on eating curry anytime soon after the end of this tour. He didn’t blame them.

“Piece of shit!” Tsutomu suddenly snarled, unsheathing his kukri to swipe at the fly that had been assaulting his face for the last half hour. The fat insect buzzed around him before disappearing into the man’s beard that was still coated with the blood from when a Sound soldier had tried to bash his face in back at the marshes. With a growl, Tsutomu swatted at his beard, prompting two flies to crawl out and give him double the work.

Sitting closest to him, Yori ducked when his blade nearly chopped her ear off. “Watch it!” she barked at him, flicking her chocolate brown braid aside to pick up some of the cards she’d dropped. She was the only woman among the twelve of them here, and she was also the only one besides Kakashi who had the guts to speak up against Tsutomu whenever his bitching got too loud or too obnoxious. Usually both.

The rest of the unit was in the middle of a very intense game of Spoons, using a beat up pair of playing cards someone had the smarts to bring. Considering it was his first tour though, Kakashi initially could not fathom who would want to play a card game in the middle of a war zone, and especially deep in the trenches of enemy territory. But he’d soon discovered that a card game was the best way to pass the time when there wasn’t much else to do but scout, kill, and sit on their asses to do it all over again. As it was now, they were on their thirty-fourth round of Spoons, and he just needed an Ace of Hearts to complete the set in his hand.

Passing another card to Obito, Kakashi wiped away a bead of sweat from his brow. Tucked beneath his shirt, the hot metal of his dog tags rubbed uncomfortably against his slick chest. Summer nights in Sound country were almost as bad as during the day. The good thing about it was that the humidity dropped, leaving the air so dry that his tongue felt like paper every time he opened his mouth. The bad thing was that, with the place so arid, they couldn’t risk lighting a fire lest they burn down their only shelter for the night (or attract the wrong kind of attention). So they’d turned on their flashlights, thankful that the equipment had somehow survived the trip through the marshes but not so happy that they couldn’t even light a cigarette.

Even without a fire, the summer heat had become far more unbearable than the mosquitoes that assaulted them every hour of the day. By midnight, everyone had resorted to stripping their tops off and leaving only their tactical vests on, filling the small space with their stinky sweat. It went against protocol, but nobody—not even Obito—listened to him when he offhandedly commented that they were sooner to die from a mosquito bite than a bullet wound if they dawdled around half-naked like that. Even Yori had given up, leaving Kakashi as the only one fully clothed in his combat fatigues.

“Bet you we could cook an egg on the ground with this heat,” Obito rasped out, pressing the cool, flat edge of his kukri against his cheek. Not the smartest move unless he wanted to risk stabbing his eye out, but he was far too desperate to care at this point. “Fuck, man, what I wouldn’t give for a sunnyside egg.”

“There’s one on the pantry shelf downstairs if the flies haven’t got to it yet,” Kakashi replied dismissively, passing a Queen of Hearts card to him and then picking up—ah-ha!

Holding his fourth and final Ace, Kakashi surreptitiously slid a hand out to grab one of the eight bullets that sat on the stool they were all sitting around. It took twenty seconds for anyone to notice that there were now only seven bullets remaining, and then chaos ensued as the rest of the unit members wrestled for the last bullets.

Once the dust had cleared and the knocked-over flashlights were propped back up, they each opened their hands to show who had a bullet and who didn’t. Tsutomu didn’t, and he did not look pleased about it.

“All right, who won it this time?” Midori sighed even as everyone looked expectantly to Kakashi who’d already flipped his deck around to show them his complete set of Aces.

“Fuck this!” Tsutomu threw his cards down and jabbed his kukri in Kakashi’s direction. “He’s always winning!”

“And you’re always too slow,” Yori said with a roll of her eyes. “You don’t hear me bitchin’ about it.”

“Maybe because I would’ve made you shut the fuck up!”

Before the two could begin snapping at each other's throats again, Midori was already nudging his glasses up as he said aloud, “He’s a Hatake. They don’t call him the prodigal White Fang for nothing, so of course he'd win. He's one of those freakin' geniuses who excel at everything.”

One of the Aces in Kakashi’s hand folded slightly under his grip, but he said nothing as Obito glanced his way.

“Sounds like a freak to me,” someone mumbled.

With Anzu collecting all the playing cards to reshuffle, everyone had time to listen in on the conversation now.

“Ah, yeah, your old man was one of the hotshots in the military, right?” Genki sneered at him. His face looked like a weasel’s what with his long, sharp nose, narrow jaw, and beady eyes that twinkled as if he was constantly thinking of an insulting joke for anyone who caught his attention. But he was also the kind of weasel that shrunk back when a predator stared him down, and he did just that when Kakashi calmly turned his sights onto him. “B-Bet he has plenty of medals to show for it.”

Kakashi quickly looked away in disinterest. Fuck if he cared about his father’s medals. They were probably collecting dust and cobwebs somewhere in the back of a closet.

“Heard his Pops always carried a lil’ sword around in battle,” Tsutomu nodded to the hilt jutting out from behind Kakashi’s lower back. “Just like that one.”

“Who the fuck brings a sword to a gunfight?” Genki sniggered but just as soon stopped when he saw nobody else was laughing.

“It’s a tantō, you nitwit,” Obito said, slamming down the empty jar of jam with more force than necessary. Genki jolted in his seat from the harsh sound. “And it’s really no different from the standard-issued kukris we all carry.”

Tsutomu frowned at the knife in his hand that was almost double the length of Kakashi’s shortsword. He met Kakashi’s gaze over the curved blade, tawny eyes squinting at him for a second as if they were having a dick-measuring contest. Pleased with the extra inches he had over the younger man, Tsutomu lowered the knife to give Kakashi a smug grin. His shit-eating grin instantly flipped into a scowl, however, when the two flies from earlier suddenly appeared to attack his lips.

His breath must be that rancid, Kakashi thought with faint bemusement. While he could stand the pompous ass and his snide remarks, he couldn’t stand to watch Yori have to consistently dodge Tsutomu’s knife as he returned to stabbing at the flies with a vengeance.

Kakashi nodded towards the staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs. “Tsutomu, Genki, switch off with Haya and Jun. It’s your turn to be on lookout.”

They clicked their tongues in unison but obeyed without question, grabbing their flashlights to head upstairs and keep watch for the next hour. As soon as they left the cramped room, the stink seemed to follow after them (although that wasn’t much of a surprise). Haya and Jun came in, propping their sniper rifles against a cabinet that held nothing but smashed plates within. As they searched for a decent seat where they could put their feet up and relax as well as they could in a warzone, Kakashi pulled out a map from his pack and spread it out on the floor. With the beckon of his hand, he urged everyone to pay attention.

“Amegakure is fifty miles from here,” he explained, tapping a finger on the northeast quadrant of the map. “The package is reported to be held within an underground bunker disguised on the topside as a water tower. At 0600, we’ll be leaving to cut through the Dead Marshes to reach Ame by 1800.”

“Why is it called the Dead Marshes again?” Anzu asked before slapping a fly off his sweaty face.

“Because a hundred of our men died there just last month. Cut down in an ambush after the enemy got ahold of our intel. Everyone’s been calling it the Dead Marshes since then.”

“So why the fuck are we going there?” Yori demanded. “I'm betting those corpses are still floating around for all the fishies to nibble on.”

“Then that just means we have even more cover,” Kakashi said.

Jun snorted and leaned over to snatch the map off the ground. Like most of the other survivors here, Jun liked to question Kakashi’s leadership at every chance. In fact, he was the kind of guy whom teachers would rip their hair out over had he chosen to stay in high school rather than head straight into the military academy. Running a hand through his greasy blonde hair, he snorted at the map before tossing it back to Kakashi. “There’s a river that we can follow for a few miles. It’ll lead us straight to Amegakure much faster than the marshes.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Because it's too tiresome to explain to a numbskull like you. “Because I said so.”

“A fucking kid said so.”

“At least I have a high school diploma.”

“And a Bachelor's and a Master’s,” Midori coughed out. When Jun glared at him, he took off his glasses and pretended to get busy cleaning them.

With a sneer, Jun pointed his flashlight directly into Kakashi's face. “I don’t care if you're a Hatake. I don't care if you're some genius with a dozen degrees. And I definitely don’t give a flying fuck if our superiors kiss your ass and call you the White Flash—”

‘Fang’, Kakashi almost corrected him, but even he found the nickname distasteful.

“—I'm not going to put my life in the hands of some kid who cares more about the mission than his own comrades,” Jun spat out.

“Look,” Obito sat forward, prying the map from Kakashi’s grip and smoothing it back down on the floor. “The obvious choice is the river, right?”

Jun nodded and then stepped on the foot of Haya who’d been too busy staring at Yori’s cleavage. “Y-Yeah, duh!” Haya nodded vigorously until the heel digging onto his toes relented.

Obito spread open his palms in gesture. “Then you would think they’d have an ambush set up for us there too since it’s the ‘obvious choice’. The river will be guarded, but Sound won’t expect more Fire soldiers to try the marshes after the first group failed.”

“Ah, so reverse psychology?” Yori still didn’t look so convinced, but she was already eyeing the marshes on the map again with renewed interest. She frowned and then looked to Kakashi. “You said you want to use the dead bodies for cover?”

“The marshes are our best bet if we want to get to the package on time. And without getting butchered,” Kakashi added firmly. “We’re the only ones left of our unit, so we need to play it safe but right. But I also wouldn’t expect Sound to turn a blind eye, so we need to move with stealth.”

Yori rolled her eyes. “Tsutomu is the opposite of stealth, but I guess we could always use his bitch ass for cover if needed. I just fucking hate the marshes,” she said with a sigh, sagging in her rickety chair, still exhausted from slugging through the marshes all day. “But Hatake’s idea makes more sense.”

“The fuck it does not!” Jun snapped at her. “I say we take the river—”

“And I say we’re taking the marshes,” Kakashi said, his voice low but harsh enough to make the fresh graduate stiffen. When Jun fell silent, Kakashi swept his gaze around all the others sitting and staring at him. He took turns challenging each and every one of them silently for a moment, daring them to question his orders anymore. “I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care if you don’t like swimming with the fishes and corpses. I don’t care if any of you live or die. I care about completing the mission—and that is securing the package. That is our duty as a soldier and if you disagree then you are free to take off your vests and dog tags, put down your guns, and walk out that door and all the way back home.”

Everyone shut up at that, and for the first time in six months, Kakashi was finally afforded the peace of silence without someone bitching about the insects, the commercial taste of their rations, or a stone that had found its way inside their boot. Satisfied with the room’s consensus, Kakashi leaned back in his chair, unsheathing his tantō to wipe off today’s coat of blood and mud that stained the edges.

It was Yori who broke the begrudging silence first when she suddenly withdrew her pistol from its holster. “You keep staring at my tits, Haya, and I'll blow you a new eye. Right in the center of your fucking forehead.”

“Chill, darlin'!” Haya raised his hands placatingly. “I was just checking out your tags.” As if to prove his point, he leaned closer to her, training his eyes on the cleavage that could be seen just above the collar of her vest. Still under the pretense of reading her tags, he hummed and stroked his chin. “Impressive.”

Yori cocked her gun in warning.

“Hey, I got a place where you can blow me,” Jun snickered at her, prompting Haya to do the same.

“That’s it—”

“Enough,” Kakashi leaned across to grab Yori’s hand that was reaching for the kukri at her hip. Something then slipped out of his front pocket, fluttering down until it landed atop of the map to reveal little Rin shyly hugging onto a scrawny boy with silver hair and a dead gaze.

Jun swooped down in the blink of an eye, snatching up the photo with his blood-stained fingers. He whistled low, angling the photo for Haya to see. “Damn, Hatake! You like your girls really young, huh? But I didn't take you as a guy who likes four-year-old pussy! Or is she three?”

Over the men’s cackles, Kakashi resisted the urge to skewer the Private 1st Class with the tip of his tantō. Especially not when he had just finished wiping the blade clean of today’s muck. “The only pussy here is the one in front of me,” he replied coolly.

Midori choked on the water he’d been sipping from his canteen, letting it splash all over the glasses he’d just finished cleaning.

While Jun was still sputtering from the retort, Obito stole the photo away from him. He peeked at it for just a split second before handing the picture back to Kakashi who immediately tucked it back into the safety of his pocket. He wiped his sword down one last time and then sheathed it loudly enough for both Jun and Haya to flinch.

A grim silence fell over the group as everyone else seemed to recall all the beloved people they themselves carried in their pockets. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, and lovers. They were all waiting for their soldiers to return home—even if it meant in body bags or as dog tags.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Obito quietly asked as Anzu started to deal cards for the others to play a round of Thirteen with.

It was a sincere question, but it was still a personal one that had Kakashi scrubbing a hand over his jaw. His hand came away tinged with the thin film of blood that had yet to finish congealing on his mask. He could smell the sharp notes of copper with every intake of breath, so he made a mental note to retreat to the bathroom later and wash off the grime. It was pointless, he knew that. By tomorrow noon, his mask would be dyed in splotches of red again, but tonight he wanted to sleep without inhaling the stench of a dead man.

Sensing Obito still waiting for an answer, Kakashi wiped his hand on his trousers and then sighed.

“She's a girl. And she's my friend….” And he had kissed Rin before, but that was more out of curiosity than desire. Besides, he didn't count it as an actual kiss since he'd just been seven years old at the time. “She's… special to me,” was all Kakashi gave in answer. “What about you? You got anyone back home?”

This time, it was Obito’s turn to shift in discomfort. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Nah, I was... disowned by my family. I was always the black sheep, but one day, I fucked up and...” He paused to scratch his cheek for a moment. “And it cost my twin brother’s life. I mean, he’s not dead,” he added quickly. “But he got fucked up pretty badly from the accident to the point that... he’s like a shadow of himself. So I got kicked out of the family after that, got put in a group home, then joined the academy as soon as I could. I haven’t talked to my family or my twin brother ever since, so if I die... guess that’s it for me.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the end for you. I mean, you’re free to haunt me if you’d like.”

Obito's mouth quirked into a grin. “You don’t mind me pulling all that poltergeist shit on you?”

Kakashi snorted. “With your butterfingers, you’d be dropping shit rather than throwing it.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Obito shoved at his shoulder with a laugh.

His laughter was cut short, however, when the heavy tread of boots stampeding down the staircase followed by the most unholy screeching interrupted everyone. Genki and Tsutomu appeared at the threshold, faces flushed with angry scratched lines marking their cheeks as if a cat had gotten the jump on them. But it wasn’t a cat that was making that screeching noise; it was a girl. Slung between them with her wrists bound in ripped sheets, she thrashed around wildly in search of an opportunity to—not escape but to bite at the men holding her captive.

White teeth flashed between long tresses of ebony hair as she tried to snap her jaws at Tsutomu’s thick neck. The man responded with a harsh slap that sent her face whipping towards Genki who was forced to reel back to avoid her bites.

“Lookie what I caught!” Tsutomu announced, grinning proudly as he grabbed the girl by the base of her head and yanked it back. She winced but made no sound that she was in pain. Even though her whole face was streaked with filth, it was obvious that she couldn’t be any older than fifteen years old. Only two years younger than Kakashi himself, but already looking as if she’d lived through an entire war. “Caught this lil’ bitch skulking around in one of the bedrooms. Probably was finding a spot to hide in so that she could slit our throats while we slept.”

There was no way she could’ve taken on twelve armed soldiers even with the element of surprise, but Kakashi didn’t doubt that she would’ve tried it anyway.

“I would’ve shat on your corpses too afterward!” she sneered at Tsutomu, earning a second slap to the cheek and making Genki flinch when specks of blood from her mouth landed all over his face.

“How the hell did we miss her?” Jun asked, stopping Tsutomu from slapping the girl again. “I thought we cleared this house from top to bottom.”

Apparently, you guys were sloppy about it, Kakashi was half-tempted to say. Instead, he stood up and yanked the girl out of Genki and Tsutomu's clutches by her bound hands. She struggled against him but just as soon froze when she felt the sharp tip of his tantō dig into the small of her back. Don’t move, Kakashi told her with a mere prod of his sword.

“Hey! Finders keepers,” Tsutomu growled, displeased that his catch was being taken away from him. His grubby hands reached for the girl, but Kakashi pulled her away from him and towards the staircase.

“We’re guests of this house,” Kakashi said aloud despite knowing that there wasn’t much of this house or its occupants left anymore. “This girl will be locked up in the master bedroom where no one is to touch her. Is that understood?”

Tsutomu took a heavy step forward to protest but stopped when the young Hatake turned his steely gaze onto him.

“Is that understood?” Kakashi spoke low, the lethal edge in his voice cutting through the tension like the blade in his hand. When Tsutomu bowed his head in answer, Kakashi glanced over at Obito who was looking at him strangely. “Relay to Tsutomu and Genki the plan for tomorrow.”

With a sharp nudge of the sword against the girl’s back, Kakashi prompted her to continue up the stairs. She remained silent on the way to the bedroom, but she didn’t stop trying to squirm out of the sheets roped tightly around her wrists. Kakashi took the moment to observe her calloused hands, deducing that she was a surviving member of this household. Probably the daughter of the farmer who’d lived here.

He didn’t ask where her parents were or why she was still here. Even though there hadn’t been any bloodstains found while clearing the house, he guessed that the rest of the girl’s family was already dead in a ditch somewhere.

“If you’re going to kill me then just do it already,” she finally said the moment she stumbled into the bedroom.

Kakashi closed the door first, watching her flinch at the sound of the latch clicking in place. “Turn around.”

She hesitated for a moment before obeying with a slow, reluctant pivot. Under the sharp beam of his flashlight, Kakashi could see the tear tracks that left a clean streak through the cake of dirt and dried blood on her cheeks. He raised his sword and she bunched her shoulders up despite the defiant tilt of her chin. The tantō flashed under the moonlight for a split second as he swung it down upon the girl.

She squeezed her eyes shut but then opened them when she found herself still alive... and with her hands free now.

Kakashi jut his chin towards the bed. Its sheets were still made as if nobody had ever slept in them at all. “Lay down there.”

She stiffened at this order, her body locking up more notably than the last time she’d hesitated. She took one step forward, and Kakashi caught the way her whole frame seemed to tremble before she hurriedly crossed the room and laid down on the bed, stiff as a board. The springs of the mattress creaked harshly, and her eyes widened as if the sound was a threat itself.

Grabbing a chair by the vanity mirror, Kakashi dragged it to the side of the bed before plopping down. His sudden close proximity to her had her sitting up rigidly, slim hands squeezing into fists on her lap. He would've preferred for her to remain lying down, but it seemed she was more comfortable sitting up, so he let her.

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he took the moment to study the girl. She had a split lip, a small cut above her brow, the red mark of a building bruise on her cheek (no doubt courtesy of Tsutomu and Genki), and dark bags of exhaustion weighed heavy beneath her eyes—eyes so black that they seemed to pierce right into Kakashi’s soul the longer he held her sharp gaze.

He looked away to reach for something in his pocket, pausing only when he sensed the girl stiffen again. Slowly, he withdrew the white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the girl. “Wipe your face.”

She scowled at the implication but snatched the cloth from him. Glimpsing the little sunflower design Rin had sewn into the corner of the cloth, the girl stared at it first before remembering to wipe the dirt off her face.

“My name is Hatake Kakashi,” he said as she cleaned herself. “What’s yours?”

When she refused to answer, he reached into another pocket, slowly again like last time. He watched as her wary eyes flicked down from his to the orange thing in his hand.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, peeling the fruit for her. “It’s a mandarin orange.”

A rare delicacy among their rations, but he was never one for sweets anyway.

The girl watched him peel the skin of the orange off like a hawk would with its prey. As soon as he offered her a slice, she seized the small piece from his fingers and stuffed it into her mouth. Her lashes fluttered slightly as she took that first bite of tangy sweetness.

“Good?”

She froze at the question as if she was a thief who’d been caught stealing the mandarin he’d offered her. Without warning, she spat the mashed bits of orange to his face, her frown deepening when she saw Kakashi didn’t even flinch from the attack.

“You’re a bastard!” she said as he casually brushed off the pieces of orange clinging to his mask. In an effort to add insult to the non-existent injury, she flung the now dirty handkerchief back at him. Kakashi merely plucked it off his chest, folded it two times into a small square, and then tucked it into one of his pockets before placing the rest of the orange in front of her.

He stood up and she shrunk back from him after clutching the orange to her chest.

“We’ll be gone in the morning,” Kakashi said as he scanned the room for any dangerous objects she might try to use in retaliation. “You can rest easy tonight. I’ll make sure no one touches you.”

Although he was kind of late for that.

“But if you try anything, we will have to use force.”

The warning was vague, but it left her shivering and glaring at him with enough spite to make any man give pause. He gave her one final look of caution before leaving the room to make his way to the bathroom. The farmhouse was old, and every floorboard creaked under his boots, but he preferred it that way. It kept him on edge—kept him alert for any signs of danger that may be lurking around the corner.

Even upon entering the bathroom, he swept aside the shower curtain just to make sure no other stray kid was waiting in the tub to ambush him with a butterknife or whatever these civilians resorted to.

Seeing the coast was clear, he stripped off his tactical vest and then the black sleeveless shirt underneath. The water ran lukewarm as he turned the knob of the faucet, and he splashed a handful down his chest for a brief respite from the blistering heat. Taking his shirt, he detached his mask and held it beneath the stream. Black, brown, and red tainted the pool of water along with loose sediment of dried mud. He grabbed the soap bar from the corner and scrubbed his mask inside and out, letting the bubbles froth.

After rinsing his mask, he wrung out the excess water before hanging the cloth on the edge of the sink to let it finish dripping.

A shout could be heard from downstairs—either Tsutomu or Jun since those two loved to butt heads with everyone—but Kakashi didn’t care so long as heads weren’t rolling. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he shrugged on his shirt and vest but paused upon hearing a sharp creak just outside his door.

Creak...

There it was again, but further this time.

Kakashi heaved a sigh and then yanked his mask back on, unsurprised to find it already dry. Tugging the door open, he stepped out of the hallway and was met with the hulking figure of Tsutomu. His burly back was hunched over as if the guy was in the middle of sneaking... towards the girl’s room.

The rest of this side story chapter will be published soon on AO3 and Fanfiction.Net! Thank you for reading!

#the anatomy of love #kakasaku

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anne-chloe · 3 years ago

Text

Always

Through her many losses over the years, Wanda is learning to accept her grief.

Wanda/F!Reader (Platonic)

Mentions of violence, blood and death // fluff, angst, platonic love between wanda and the reader

“Where’s Steve?”

Tony glanced up from his project, loose scraps of metal and trinket devices scattered around him, presenting him in a light that reminded you briefly of a compulsive hoarder. He blinked slowly before shrugging his shoulders in a disinterested manner.

“No clue, kid, sorry,” Tony answered in short, waving you off before returning back to his intense thoughts. His skilful fingers worked away at the technical objects, a skill that you often admired. Where Tony found comfort in fixing and creating, you were quite the opposite; you tend to break everything you touch, accidentally, of course.

You stepped out of his lab and wandered back into the main room of the compound, scratching the back of your neck in an obvious frustration. The super soldier had seemingly vanished since breakfast that morning, and to say you were concerned was an understatement.

Eventually, you found yourself pausing in the kitchen, where you spotted Wanda speaking quietly with Vision. The two stopped and glanced over as you began to approach, their conversation fading out as you greeted them with a smile.

“Did you find him?” Vision inquired, now turning half his attention to the diced onion scattered on the chopping board. He wordlessly scraped the vegetable into a frying pan, filling the room with a satisfying sizzle.

You shook your head. “Nope, the old guy seems to have disappeared,” you half heartedly joked, taking a seat at the breakfast counter opposite the duo. “But it can wait, I guess, it’s not overly important.”

Wanda moved around the counter and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you close into a hug. “Your family history is definitely interesting,” Wanda mused, her fingers tangling themselves into your hair, twirling and playing. You leaned into her touch, enjoying the comfort she brought.

Vision started to add chopped mushrooms, bell peppers, crushed garlic and tomatoes to the pan, all filling the air with a delightful smell. “It is highly possible that your grandfather served in the war alongside Mr. Rogers. Have you discovered any possible information that could link them?”

You sighed, beginning to feel doubtful. “No, but I’m aware Steve served in the same regiment that my grandfather did…”

“Might I ask why you want to know? Is it curiosity or desire for knowledge?”

You watched as Vision added some spices to the mix of whatever he was cooking. “I never knew much about my family growing up, but I recently found out that my grandfather passed away. I guess it would be nice to have a connection to something, especially since I was named on his will to inherit his farmhouse.”

“I see,” Vision hummed. He gestured for Wanda to taste his concoction by holding out a spoon; Wanda beamed and gave a supportive thumbs up, pleased with how the dish was turning out.

Tilting your head to the side, you fell quiet as you witnessed the genuine peace settling across her face. For the first time in a long time she was comfortable, and that very realisation made a loving warmth spread throughout your chest.

Later that night, while curled up in bed, you lay silent, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. Everything was quiet, a comfortable quiet that allowed you to recollect yourself. And while you admired the patterns above your bed, you became aware of a person loitering outside your door.

Sitting up, you blinked slowly before flicking your wrist, opening the door with a small ‘click’. Light gushed in to your bedroom, spotlighting you as you squinted to see who it was.

A guilty smile crept up onto Wanda’s face before she entered your room, sheepishly shuffling across the floor in her fluffy slippers. You pulled the duvet back and welcomed her into your bed, wrapping your arms around her before snuggling underneath the covers.

“Your senses are getting better,” Wanda praised with a pleased gleam in her eyes. You chuckled softly, listening to the sound of the door closing again at your incredible willpower.

“Honestly, I had no idea it was you outside,” you admitted quietly.

Wanda’s finger tapped your nose. “And what if I had been a murderer?” She teased.

“A murderer in this building? Impossible,” you retaliated, setting off a shared bubble of giggles.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, and after a minute or so you closed your eyes, welcoming the safe feeling that Wanda offered while with you. The combined warmth of your bodies offered a peaceful opportunity to sleep, and with the past few busy months that had occurred, yourself and Wanda deserved it.

“We should run away together,” you murmured sleepily. Opening your eyes, you locked gazes with Wanda, waiting patiently for her response.

Through the darkness, you could see her smile. “Where would we go?”

“There’s this nice little farmhouse waiting for me in the countryside…”

You felt Wanda shift slightly. “We could have rocking chairs on the porch,” you added gently, your ears now burning red at the exciting idea. “And maybe a chicken coop.”

“We could have a dog and a cat,” Wanda interjected thoughtfully; you felt your heart skip a beat as she hopped onto your idea. “If there’s a stream near by, or a lake, imagine the picnics we could have during the summer season; or the comfort of sitting in front of the fireplace throughout the winter.”

“It’d be so cute having Bertie and Bobby curled up together in front of the fire,” you beamed.

“Bertie and Bobby?”

“Yeah, the dog and the cat.”

Piling cute ideas on top, one after the other, creating mundane scenarios with one another as the night began to creep onwards; you became aware of how much you loved being in Wanda’s presence. She truly was your best friend, your confidant. If anyone could understand you, it was her.

Like you, Wanda had suffered considerably growing up. Having lost her parents, to voluntarily being experimented on with the mind stone, to then losing her brother during the battle in Sokovia. Wanda was pretty much a mirror of yourself, battling through the worlds worst grievances.

To experience a normal life would mean the absolute world to the both of you, having no other choice but to grow up so fast in a world so cruel.

“_____?” Wanda whispered after your hushed giggled died down.

You hummed, feeling the drowsiness sink bank in. You blinked slowly, wishing for the fatigue to disappear, wanting to remain in this very moment for as long as possible.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” You asked softly.

“For loving me,” Wanda answered.

You couldn’t help but smile again. Awkwardly, you moved your hands around under the duvet before locating her hand; you squeezed her hand tightly, bringing your face close to hers before planting a kiss upon her forehead.

“Always.”

…

A chill raced up your spine as you stood defensively across from Tony, whom was clad in his Iron Man armour, an expression of disapproval obvious across his face.

You never thought you’d go against him, not like this, not when your team was supposed to be inseparable. But he’d betrayed the Avengers tenfold; in your eyes, he was turning his back against everything you were supposed to stand for. Without the Avengers better judgement, it would simply became another military asset.

That’s not what you signed up for.

“I’m disappointed in both of you, Wanda, _____.”

You scoffed, heart hammering inside your chest. You were hurt by his words, because Tony’s opinion mattered so much to you. He was there at the beginning of your unravel; he had supported you through the trials calling for your imprisonment, and he had stuck by your side every moment of every day. Countless times he had saved your life, and countless times had you returned such a favour.

“You don’t get to be disappointed, Stark,” you countered coldly, a tone so bitter and low that it felt horrible to use. “You turned your back on us - you tried to lock Wanda away!”

“I was protecting her! I was protecting you!” Tony shouted, exasperated. It was evident that he was frustrated, and underneath his eyes were deep, purple bags, an indication that this entire situation was losing him sleep.

“Protecting us? I think you need to look at a dictionary and improve your knowledge! That suits clearly gone to your head.”

It wasn’t long before a fight broke out. It was brutal; it felt wrong on every level imaginable. To be fighting your family was everything you stood against; you never thought this day would exist or happen, yet here you were, using your powers against the people you had grown to love and care for.

Firmly standing your ground, you aimed your hand at the nearest object - a car - and willed it to move into the air. Power surged through your body and into your fingertips, lighting your mind with excitement and thrill. It was heavy and took a lot of willpower, but you were able to send it crashing into the man clad in the Black Panther suit.

You turned on your heel and took off into the air, landing atop of the nearby aeroplane where you knew your advantage would be. Below, you could see all your friends engaged in some form of fight. Whether or not they were feeling regretful of their actions, you weren’t sure, you could only be positive of your own guilt and shame.

Sensing a trustful twitch in the back of your mind, you threw yourself to the ground as Spider-Man suddenly swept overhead. He landed a few feet away, catching himself before falling over the edge.

“And who are you supposed to be?” You hissed, feeing no attachment for this stranger. Standing to your own defence, you readied yourself for whatever could be thrown your way.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Your eyebrows shot upwards in genuine surprise at the childlike voice. Your stomach sank at the realisation that Tony had recruited a literal child; was he truly that desperate to capture yourself and the others, just to obey the Sokovia Accords?

“This isn’t your fight, kid,” you warned.

“Mr. Stark said—“

You shot out your hand and made a grabbing mimic, lifting Spider-Man into the air and interrupting him mid-sentence. A surprised shriek left his mouth as you dangled him over the edge, furthering him away from your advantage spot.

“Stark lies. Stay out of this fight, you have no reason to be here other than Tony’s desperation!”

Despite being his enemy, you were careful in lowering Spider-Man to the ground. You weren’t aware of his exact age, but you didn’t want to risk injuring a kid. It wasn’t fair bringing an innocent into a fight like this; he shouldn’t be troubling himself with a situation that could snatch away his future. This only made you all the more furious at Tony.

Steve and Bucky made a dash across the airport, followed closely by Sam and Clint. From your high position, you knew you’d be able to stop anything from stopping their getaway. You just had to be quick and not hesitate.

Your eyes locked on to Tony, Nat and Rhodey, who were all advancing towards Steve. You inhaled deeply and conjured as much power as possible to launch objects in their path, just to slow them down and buy your friends some time. It worked, for the most part; wiping out Tony and holding him back.

The Black Panther had his eyes set like sharp daggers on Bucky, a vengeful thirst driving his motivation to catch the Winter Soldier. You were skeptical about Bucky’s crimes and claim to fighting his way to a better life, but you trusted Steve and his judgement best.

As the Black Panther started to veer closer to Steve and Bucky, you intercepted by launching your body into him. You both tumbled off to the side and rolled across the concrete.

You smacked your head and heard a gruesome crack, and a moment of delirium washed over you. The sky swirled and the world danced in circles; your eyes remained unfocused and blurry as you stumbled and tripped to your feet, to your knees before you fell flat on your face again.

You shot out your hand and mimicked a swiping motion, knocking Rhodey off his feet and increasing Steve’s chance of escape. Even if you couldn’t escape with them, you knew what had to be done.

As Steve and Bucky vanished into the storehouse, where an aircraft waited for them, you realised Natasha was nowhere to be seen. A string of curses slipped through your gritted teeth as you attempted to stand again, not ready to lose against Tony.

Before you could make any advancements, within your peripheral vision, you spotted Wanda in a heap of trouble. Your heart hammered in anticipation as she fought with hesitated strength, and you knew that she felt the same as you did.

It wasn’t right fighting against your friends like this. Ideals and beliefs tearing the team apart so easily; yet, you understood why these things had to be done. Not only that but Bucky is a criminal whom needed to be trialed for his crimes, even if he wasn’t fully in control of his actions.

“Wanda! Behind you!” You shrieked, eyes snapping open in horror as she was tackled and pinned to the ground by Vision. He restrained her easily, and while she struggled against him for only a brief moment, you saw the fight leave her eyes as she caved.

Scrambling to your feet, you focused on Visions hands and forced them away from Wanda. A look of betrayal crossed his face, his eyes narrowing in distrust.

“Stop this, _____,” Vision demanded.

Your knees started to shake as the pressure set in. A dull throb spread throughout your head, and your eyes slowly started to blur. With the corners of your sight starting to darken, the world around you growing cold, you finally locked eyes with Wanda.

The faintest of smiles turned at her lips, her reassuring gaze urging you to relax. And you did; you released your hold on Vision and crumbled to your knees, panting and gasping for air. Wanda then mouthed, “it’s okay”.

It was over.

Just like that.

Tony and his team of traitors tore you from the airport and had you imprisoned in the intense safety of the RAFT. A place where powered individuals were locked away, the key thrown overboard; without mercy or empathy.

You curled yourself into a tight ball and stared aimlessly at the wall, lost in your thoughts, trapped with only the doubtful voice that mimicked your every insecurity.

Across from you was Wanda’s cell. She looked exhausted, like she had given up hope. Eventually, when her gaze turned to yours, at the same time, you both offered the tiniest smile, a reassurance that you were both in this situation together, no matter what.

Wanda placed her forehead against the glass and mouthed, “thank you for loving me.”

And you mouthed back, “always.”

…

As battle cries rang out across Wakanda, you found yourself lost in the heat of war. Crossing the field in the fastest sprint you could muster, you launched yourself into the air and knocked into one of Thanos’ children.

You both bounced and tumbled across the dirt floor, rolling far. There, you scurried to your feet and directed your attention onto their hands; weapons clutched tightly and pulled back to strike. You ducked and dodged, fighting back with as much force as you could manage.

With every punch you lay on them, they kicked back tenfold. You didn’t escape each small fight unscathed or unharmed. Blood trickled from fresh wounds, mixing with the sweat and dirt that gathered in lumps across your clothes and skin. But you knew you couldn’t stop, not even when your legs ached and screamed for you to stop.

You slid across the floor and tackled another beast, your hand motioning to grab and tear apart your target. It screamed and shrieked a shrill noise, one that made your ears ring, but you lacked the mercy to stop and consider your actions. It was either them or you.

Thanos was on a bloodthirsty mission for the Infinity Stones; whatever reason he desired them, you were uncertain, but you had been summoned to assist the broken-band of Avengers in their desperate attempts to stop him before irreversible damage could be caused.

The battle raged on, seemingly never ending. Both sides took heavy damage, but neither teams showed signs of surrender.

And then it slowed down.

The world grew darker and darker, and the floor drew closer at an alarmingly fast pace. Your head bounced against the floor, a shrill ringing drowning out the noise of battle around you. Your eyes, unfocused and teary, scanned the world for some kind of answer as a strange sensation expanded in your chest.

There was shouting; incoherent and loud, closer and farther away. You zoned in and out, an odd sense of calm flooding your senses while the sky turned brighter and warmer. Your body temperature dropped considerably, and suddenly the ache in your legs vanished.

Panicked, Natasha scooped you into her arms and dragged you as far as she could from the battle field. A string of reassurances fell from her mouth, hands soaked in blood, a mix of yours, hers and theirs. She fumbled uselessly and attempted to slow the bleeding from the gaping hole in your chest.

“Stay with me, _____! Stay with me!” Natasha aggressively demanded, her eyes often flickering towards the dangers around her, and back to the fading life underneath her. She couldn’t afford to lose you, not like this.

And as your eyes fluttered shut for the last time, your final thoughts drifted to Wanda.

Beautiful, brilliant, Wanda.

…

“Bertie! Bobby! Dinner!” You bellowed into the grassy field, hands clapping together as the twin golden retriever dogs bolted through the garden.

You could hardly see their heads in the blades of grass, but their pants and friendly grumbles assured you of their obedience and loyalty for their promised dinner. You loudly praised the dogs as they ushered past your form, straight into the farmhouse where their meals awaited.

You chuckled and turned, ready to close the door. However, you paused as something caught your attention at the end of your drive. A figure, distant and unmoving, watching you from afar. You blinked and faced them, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge.

“_____?”

Wanda.

A grin spread across your face as you darted down the porch with arms spread open wide. You captured Wanda in a tight hug, both of you collapsing to the ground in a heap of relieved laughs and happiness.

“It’s been too long!” You exclaimed after a minute of giggling. You both sat up, unbothered for the grass stains now marking your jeans. You cupped Wanda’s face lovingly and placed a kiss upon her forehead.

“I… I missed you,” Wanda confessed softly, her eyes filling with tears. “You look so healthy— amazing!”

You cast Wanda a strange look. “Missed me? We saw one another last week.”

Wanda began to stumble over her words, a deep red covering her ears. You laughed and poked her nose, and a nostalgic smile spread across her face in awe. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Before you could stand and lead her into your home, Wanda grasped your hand and held you still. You turned to face her, brows furrowing as confusion marked your expression, and it suddenly dawned on you of the sad, glossy tears in her eyes.

You reached out and cupped her cheeks, examining the saddening smile upon her face. “What’s the matter, Wanda?” You softly asked, your thumb gently stroking her cheek, wiping away an escaped tear.

Her hand reached up and grazed your fingers. The touch was gentle, almost like she was admiring you. But what for? She’d not long been with you; a week ago you had both enjoyed some tea and cake inside your kitchen, living in the moment, carefree and young.

“You died, _____.”

Your nose scrunched upwards before a dry laugh escaped your throat. “Very funny, Wanda.”

But Wanda didn’t laugh. She didn’t confess to her joke, nor did she attempt to crack a jestering smile. You pulled your hands away, suddenly feeling a cold chill rush up your spine.

“What are you talking about? I’m right here,” you muttered. You folded your arms across your front, hugging your limbs close in an attempt to stay warm. What happened to the warm sun? It had vanished behind those red clouds in the distance.

“Five years ago,” Wanda explained, her voice unstable and brittle. She seemed to have trouble speaking, and with the added tears rolling down her face, you found it nearly impossible to detect a lie within her words. “Thanos’ children stabbed your heart. You died in Natasha’s arms.”

As if fazed by her words, a dull, phantom ache spread inside your chest. It wasn’t painful, but there was a brief explosion of pins and needles. You winced, stepping back, disbelief setting in.

“Why are you saying these things?”

Wanda’s bottom lip trembled. “Because they’re true.”

You defiantly shook your head. “No, no they’re not. I’m standing right here, Wanda. Look! I’m real! I’m not dead! Look at me!”

“I have memories from the past five years! How would I have those if I had died?” You challenged bitterly.

“Because I gave you those memories!” Wanda snapped, stepping forwards and grasping your shoulders tight. She shook you slightly, trying to force some sense into you.

“Wanda—“

“What do you remember of our fight against Thanos and his children? What do you remember from Wakanda?”

You glanced between Wanda’s eyes, desperately searching for something to make sense of the situation. But all you could find was sadness; there wasn’t any frustration or irritation present, it was just anguish and despair.

You thought back to the battle in Wakanda, and you quickly found yourself doubting the outcome of events. What had actually happened? Your mind became hazy, filled with thoughts that felt so unreal and false.

“I fought beside Natasha…” you slowly confessed. “We were protecting Vision from Thanos, because he wanted the Mind Stone.”

“And?”

“And…”

But you couldn’t speak anymore. You stopped completely. Drawing blanks and endings that didn’t match, your memory ended there, leaving you an empty vessel with nothing more to say. Wanda understood your silence for realisation, and she knew you had finally pushed away her false reality.

You blinked rapidly, your arms unfolding and your hand pressing gingerly against your chest, where a gaping hole should have been. You could remember the indescribable pain that you had suffered in your final moments; the way Natasha held you close and begged you to stay alive.

“… and I died,” you whispered.

Wanda nodded stiffly. She lowered her gaze, hiding her shame away from you.

“How am I here?” You asked quietly.

A tear rolled down Wanda’s cheek. “I created you.”

Your eyes wandered to the sky, where you finally noticed the abnormality of the red shade. It was like blood, a river racing far and wide across the universe. This wasn’t your reality; how could you have been so blind to this moment?

“Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

Your gaze trailed back to Wanda. She remained still and tense, unmoving as she accepted what she had done.

Inhaling deeply, you let out a small sigh. Holding out your hand, you grasped hers and laced your fingers together, bringing her close and resting your forehead against hers. She sniffled loudly while fighting back a sob, and it took all your willpower to not burst into tears.

A golden glow began shining around your body, a lightweight feeling taking over. It was euphoric and blissful; you felt at peace and somewhat free. For the first time in a long time, you were calm and prepared to die.

“Hey, Wanda?” You mumbled.

Wanda hiccuped, “yes?”

You smiled and pulled away, eyes naturally locking with hers.

“Thank you.”

Her face scrunched in confusion. “What for?” She asked.

“For loving me.”

And as the red started to fade in the sky, a blissful blue taking its place; your body started to fade away. Tiny golden swirls danced and glistened under the daytime sun, swishing and vanishing in the blades of grass.

The farmhouse began to fade, too, disappearing into thin air.

Before you could completely disappear, Wanda released an almighty wail of despair, her hands grasping the air in a futile attempt to make you stay.

And as her reality faded, so did you.

Wanda sobbed and crumbled to the ground, holding close her hands to her chest. Looking upwards to the sky, where the final specs of golden dust lingered high above, she mustered out a final farewell.

“Always.”

#avengers #Wanda #wandavision #female reader #telekinesis #scarlet witch #CACW #infinity war #avengers age of ultron #one shot #angst #fluff #Elizabeth olsen #mind stone #supernatural abilities

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thegirlwhohasnochill · 4 years ago

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The Disease of Addiction

Euphoria Special Episode Part 1: Rue (Recap & Review)

Before I begin my official review of this episode, I would like to preface my thoughts with a bit of a primer about spoilers and trigger warnings. The show covers a range of topics from addiction to mental health. Still, I specifically want to warn anyone reading that I explicitly talk about and mention the topic of suicide in my review. If this is triggering for you in any way, please, don’t read ahead and take care of yourself! Okay, that’s it; I hope you enjoy my thoughts, and please let me know if you have any feedback or comments for my review and things I can change or fix in the future.

Where to begin with such a loaded episode...we knew the format and style of the episode would be simplistic based on the current realities of filming amidst a pandemic and what we saw to be a scene from Season 2 that the creator Sam Levinson expanded upon. Zendaya herself let us know that the episode's storytelling method would be vastly different from what we’ve already seen on the show. The format and simplicity of the episode, in contrast to the loaded dialogue and content of the scenes, are perfect. The camera takes you right into the middle of these conversations with Rue and Ali. But before we can even dive into what they talk about, we have to address the elephant in the room that is Rules. The episode begins with what is probably one of the most gut-wrenching sequences I have seen on the show. Because we know the reality and truth of their current predicament, Rue’s peppered kisses across Jules’ body and her tight squeezes and hugs from behind Jules evoke a strong sense of loss and pain for the viewer. The sheer intensity of the physicality of Rue’s affection for Jules is so overpowering and overwhelmingly present, we can almost feel the imbalance in their relationship through the screen. There is something to be said for the harsh reality of Rue’s dependence on Jules being reflected even in such a non-objective dream-like sequence. And yet, even in Rue’s wildest dreams and happiest stupor, she does not imagine the sobriety of her future. To me, that is indeed the crux of her character and the essence of this episode. Ali himself says, “The point is your sobriety.” And while it may feel like a focal point of discussion, the conversation flows in a way that seems to bounce back and forth between the two like a simple tennis match. It is easy to follow between Ali’s most potent clearest convictions about how the world works and Rue’s drug-addled hazy perception. The inherent contrast between their mental states and the different points of life in which they are both standing hit the viewer at alternate moments.

But we know Rue is not sober even as she lies to Ali and stumbles out of the bathroom, the shaky camerawork conveying her recent use. She is wearing the same shirt from the dream but has her signature hoodie on, her messy curly locks running down her back and glassy eyes staring straight ahead. The scene moves from her imagination of life with Jules to her lies about use. Her eventual admittance to being a high-functioning user happens as quickly as the conversation moves from sobriety to faith.

So I might be biased and hence don’t think I am incorrect in admitting that Zendaya has never given us a bad performance in her life. Even as she lies to Ali’s face and he is quick to call out her apparent contradictions, the faint slurring of her voice and her glazed eyes tell all. As striking as the conversation is, it feels even stranger for me to admit I felt comforted by Rue’s confession to thoughts of ending her life. And even as she admits to the darkest moments in her mind, Ali’s face and reaction are an even better neutralizer for what would generally be such an alarming thing to say to someone you barely know. As they continue to discuss her eventual relapse and all the reasons behind it (including racing thoughts encompassing “all the things I remember and all the things I wish I didn’t”), the viewer can envision the sequence of events that was shown to us in the finale - her fights with her mother and sister, her first time using when her father was fast asleep, her father’s death, her sister finding her after her overdose.

As much as I would like to quote the entire episode, I have to say Ali’s monologue about the idea that none of us are born evil and that society views mental illness and addiction as a personal moral failure rather than an overarching system many of us are incapable of overcoming, to be one of, if not the most decisive moments of the entire show. The line about coming out of the womb with “a few wires crossed” but still a beautiful baby girl eventually messing her way up through life struck a chord in me. I didn’t ask to be born this way. I don’t feel in control of my mind or the way it ever seems to work. And I’m always going to be a bad person. The disease of addiction and mental illness lets you - no, it makes you - view everything you have ever done in your life as not a consequence of the way your mind works, but as an active choice, you have consistently made, as you screwed up everything you’ve ever loved, and let down everyone you have ever cared about. The disease is not you as a person or even the way you think, and yet it is powerful enough to feel that way. Almost like the rapid cycling between mania and depression, the disease flips between, making you feel like the most powerful, invincible person alive and the absolute scum of the earth. There is nothing in between.

Ali’s backstory and his monologues about his change in faith from Christianity (when he was previously known as Martin) to Islam and the world's revolutions were fascinating. Side note: I did think the line about women converting to Islam was unnecessary, but I digress.

Rue’s understanding of the Narcotics Anonymous program's steps was the perfect way to bring in the conversation of faith. As she mentions her difficulty in coming to terms with the idea that there is greater power in charge of her behaviour and the way she surrenders herself to drugs, Ali chimes in with, “You don’t believe there is a power on Earth greater than Rue.” She disagrees and continues quoting and citing different sources she believes to be omniscient and great. And I absolutely agree with her. To me, there is no greater power than the source of art, the music that keeps me going, that feels like it’s the only thing keeping me from stopping the blood pumping through my veins. I understand Rue. But I also understand Ali. And yet, when Rue goes on to talk about the inexplicable workings of the world, my heart stops. There is no reason. There is no reason for the absolute pain and loss and suffering I’ve experienced, for the trauma I’ve witnessed and endured. For the absolutely horrifying things, the people closest to me have lived through. It is merely chaos. There is no reason I wake up every single day, regretting the fact that I did indeed wake up and that I am alive and breathing. So I Understand Rue. But Ali’s monologue about the moral arc of the universe and the unfathomable ways in which life and history line themselves up, to open our very eyes to the realizations we come to daily, is overwhelming. And yet, while he is waxing poetic about the intricacies of the world, we can see Rue’s exhausted eyes glaze over further, still unimpressed. “Maybe I’ll start a revolution like Malcolm X or something”, she quips back. But Ali is quick to counter; revolutions are no longer revolutionary.

Life as we know it is hypocrisy and foolish symbolism, only emphasizing his point about the universe's ridiculousness. Does any of it have meaning? Or is the meaningless void just another puzzle piece in a picture we will never get to see? There is also something to be said about Rue’s facial expressions as Ali continues his train of thought about her “generation”. As we often do when we hear our elders dismissively brush off our many concerns, she almost rolls her eyes. But he is listening, and he knows. “You think you’re out here fighting a revolution, and Bank of America is on your side? Give me a fucking break.” He’s not wrong. His speech reminds me of the masses of teens on TikTok creating video content specifically catered to an audience with an aesthetic that glamorizes the image of a revolutionary teen hero. But instead of a blazing bow and arrow, it is the common cell phone and a punchy soundtrack filtered through digitized audio. What would typically come across as preachy in any show catered to teens is, in fact, poignant. It also reminds me of how self-aware Euphoria is, knowing it’s guilty of falling into the same trap it accuses the viewer of doing.

You have to commit to bettering yourself, Ali essentially tells Rue. And to me, that is the most inherently human struggle we will ever face in our lifetimes. As long as we exist, we have to face the idea that each day is, in fact, not going to be easier than the last. And when he tells her that he believes in her and that the hope of her success (that may one day come) should be greater than the failure of her current demise holding her back, I want to cry. I keep thinking about that edit of Rue to this is me trying by Taylor Swift.

The music of the song that Jules has texted to Rue swells, and it is easy to get caught up in the angst of the moment. It accompanies the words, “I miss you.” And if it wasn’t for Ali’s conversation with his daughter as background noise, one would simply soak in the gut-wrenching pain of their separation. The juxtaposition of Ali trying his absolute best to cling to his family as Rue continues to isolate herself from her loved ones and push herself further into the abyss makes my heart physically hurt.

Ms. Marsha’s spell-binding words of wisdom about sobriety and relationships compared to Rue’s tired exhaustion imminently displayed on her face make the viewer a little wary of what comes next. Her misunderstanding of a juvenile relationship with Jules is made clear when Ali confronts her about the fact that the two of them never had a real conversation about their feelings for one another. Rue’s distrust in the idea that things will eventually work themselves out stems from the fact that she feels disappointed by how her loved ones have left her so far. She eventually spirals into this negatively destructive way of thinking. She cognitively recognizes and justifies getting left behind because she thinks and believes she deserves terrible things in life. She lists examples of past deeds to further cement her argument. But Ali counters back with the simple statement that “Drugs change who you are as a person.” Regardless of her actions, he believes she is still a genuinely good individual while she argues that she is absolutely not. My favourite part of this whole conversation and the entire episode is the manner in which Ali questions Rue’s negative cognitive patterns. Her brain and mind essentially excuse bad behaviour by convincing her that she will never be a good person. Hence she can never forgive herself, and thus, she will continue to remain in this cyclical pattern. Our actions may be inexcusable, but they do not line up with our intentions. The inevitable human struggle is not whether we are fundamentally good or bad, evil, flawed or perfect, but if we are (and again, not to quote my other favourite show, The Good Place) trying to be a better person than we previously were. If we recognize that our actions are wrong and we are capable of experiencing remorse and regret for said actions, who's to say we are entirely incapable of change. This reductive polarizing, and dismissive way of thinking is characteristic of the brains of most people living with a mental illness. Our outside influences, such as drugs, can all be contributing external factors to how we conduct ourselves through life. Ali’s short bit about redemption and human beings deeming actions unforgivable forever can easily be paralleled to direct conversations we have online about “cancel culture”. The phenomenon of dismissing and reducing someone to their mistakes instead of allowing them to grow from them is a nice sentiment. Still, if we do not truly take accountability into action and witness no real changes or remorse, we can quickly get stuck in that cycle. Even if our beliefs do not line up with our actions, drugs can eventually change that. The belief system we hold so dearly, the convictions we strongly feel, can all be washed away by the simple use of drugs, Ali explains as he tells Rue about his family background. His experiences with abuse and his eventual hypocrisy as he plays the role he always feared in his family leave the viewer speechless. As we watch him tell his tale of regret, there is no woe or sorrow in admitting he is or isn’t a fundamentally good or bad person, just the thought of his attempt to change his ways that impacts the viewer.

As the viewer waits with bated breath to see what comes out of Rue’s mouth next, it is not a surprise (to me personally). Rue has no intention of staying sober because she has no intention of staying alive much longer. Ali asks her why she feels that way. She responds with her sentiments about the cruelty of the world. Ali understands. We truly are living in dark times, witnessing truly horrific events, and the fact that we even have the capacity to care any longer is indicative of our will to stay alive. It doesn’t make much sense when you think about it, but when you are so sad, so grief-stricken by the news, by the world’s turn of events, by the mere thought of witnessing more tragedy that you cannot bear to be alive any longer, it means that you are deeply invested. Invested in the way things will turn out even if you do not personally believe you want to participate or even be privy to being complicit in a system that does nothing but churn out pain, anger, and hatred. When I was at the lowest point in my life and attempted to end my own life, I was overwhelmed by the goings-on of the world. As emotionally drained as Rue is, a part of her still cares. She wants her sister and mother to know that she really tried. Just as I wanted and still want my parents and friends to be okay without me when I do eventually leave this earth. Of course, I care about what happens to them. The idea that suicide or suicidal ideation is inherently selfish is so contradictory to the reality of how suicidal individuals genuinely feel. It is the opposite. We care more than most, and we care to the point that it hurts to extend another moment of kindness to ourselves amid all the chaos and madness of the world. But still, we try. We do our best. Ali believes in Rue. He has faith in her.

The entire episode ends on a melancholy note as Rue and Ali depart the diner with Rue wistfully staring out the window as he drives her home. Ali loves his conversations with Rue and vice-versa. The fact that two people can be sitting at a diner alone on Christmas Eve talking about the beauty and cruelty of the world and everything ranging from politics to addiction to suicide to love to family and anything in between goes to show us that humans will always find a way. The fact that two people struggling and suffering from addiction can find their own way about and amidst the chaos of the world and still have these meaningful conversations about life and existence tells us that ultimately, Trouble Don’t Last Always.

#euphoria #zendaya #sam levinson #colman domingo #rue bennett #jules vaughn #rules #hbo #recap #review #nanwrites #rue #jules #zendaya coleman

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