#finally figured out the curly ends look!

[sleepingsims]

my finals coping mechanism is photoshopping ombres onto wips that i've been thinking abt all quarter :p

[burningcomputerpersona]

ahhhhhhhh guess who made the mistake of getting a haircut

[wcters]

𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 2k+

summary: your relationship with lando through the teenage years

warnings: pda, established relationship, mostly fluff, some angst | i know lando moved to glastonbury later in his life but 🤫 i also wrote this in 2 hours instead of doing because i got excited and had an idea

     You and Lando had first met when you were teenagers. Him being a lanky teenage boy with puffy cheeks and curly hair, and you being a young girl with frizzy hair and a youthful look in your eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you first started dating, it’s like you both were on the same wavelength.

You still remember the day you met him ━━ how could you not? You two went to the same school so you knew who each other was, and you had heard of him from people around the town talking about his karting career. Your parents were family friends with the Norris’s, and they never failed to talk about how proud they were of their children.

It was the start of school after the 2013 summer break. You had quite a small friend group in school so when you had classes with no one you were friends with, you tended to be quiet and focus on your school work. That resulted in you being forced to sit next to the rowdy kids. Why? You didn’t know. It’s not like it changed them, and it just bothered you. It was one of those times, and it was Lando who was put next to you. Him and his friend group tended to be the disruptive bunch. They weren’t bad people or bad at school, just got a little too loud at times and forgot to pay attention.

You were sat in the middle row of your math class. The seat next to you was empty at the start of class, but at the end it wasn’t. Lando and his friends got a little too loud and he was “punished” by being put next to you so he couldn’t talk with his friends. You looked at him when he made his way over, but that was it. He was cute ━━ you could admit it. And it didn’t hurt that someone cute was being put next to you, but you shook your feelings off and forced yourself to focus. At them end of class when you were grabbing your things, a hand poked your shoulder. You turned around and came face-to-face with the Norris boy. He looked a little nervous, fidgety and a small smile on his face. You tilted your head. “Hey ━━ I uh ━━ didn’t have enough time to finish some of the notes. Do you mind if I borrow some of yours?”

You were a little surprised, you didn’t think he cared that much about school. Most kids wouldn’t bother getting down a little bit you missed ━━ not even you ━━ but he did. You smiled and nodded. “Sure,” you told him as you grabbed the paper out of your binder and gave it to him, “just return it once you’re done?” He nodded. The next day in class, he walked over to you and gave the paper pack, and you figured he would go back to his friends because the seat want permanent, but he didn’t. He put his bag on the ground and sat in the seat next to you. He did that, every day, for the rest of the year.

You two got to know each other well. You learned more about his competitive karting career and his family, while you told him about your family and friends. Nothing ever happened between you two, you were just friends. You had a crush on him, but you convinced yourself it was your mind tricking you because it was your first friend that was a boy. He thought the same, but he didn’t not believe his, he just didn’t act on it.

It was summer break, a year after you met him, when you realized you did like him. You were chatting with your grandma at her house as you were helping her sting stuff around the house. She had asked about your school semesters and how it was. You rambled on and on, not realizing that you mostly takes about Lando. It wasn’t until you were putting one of the last boxes down for her that it finally hit. “You must really like that boy, no?” You looked at her weird. “All you did was talk about him. You must like him.” It was when she said that that you had a moment of realization. After you finished helping her you went home to your mom and talked to her, confused on how to deal with this newfound information. She just laughed and gave you a hug, telling you that almost every teenage girl goes through this with someone in their life. That made you feel a bit better.

Your friendship turned into something more a couple weeks after that. The Norris family had invited your family to come watch one of Lando’s races at Buckmore Park. Your parents agreed as they wanted to catch up . . . You agreed because you wanted to see Lando. He did well, coming 5th place. You could tell he wasn’t happy about, but you were. You and your family met up with him at the end of the race. He wasn’t looking too happy, but when he saw you his face lit up. When you congratulated him he blushed. Your families talked for a bit ━━ mostly about how summer break was going ━━ and you were about to leave when Lando called out your name.

Your family continued to leave, saying they would meet up with you at the car with your mom winking at you. You blushed. At first there was some awkward silence, and then he asked “would you like to go on a date?” You were a bit shocked, not expecting it, and you were nervous. What did people do on dates anyway? You know adults went out to eat and drink but you were fifteen! You completely forgot that you had to answer his question, and he started sputtering out words saying that you didn’t have to, and he was sorry before you interrupted him with a “yes.” It was his turn to look surprise.

You went on a date the next week, both of you unknowingly doing the same thing and panicking to your parents beforehand. It went fine, a bit awkward ━━ obviously ━━ but you thought it was cute. You went out for icecream and walked around Bristol. Halfway through the date he slipped his hand into yours, and you accepted it, but didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

After that, you two were inseparable. You two were always together, and practically lived at each others houses. Sometimes ━━ for weeks on end ━━ your parents never saw you a lot because you were always at Lando’s house. His parents always updated yours on how you were, and they trusted you. During an interview for Drive to Survive, your parents swore during those times they only saw you in the morning and night, the rest of the time you were with Lando. This would switch between you staying at his and him staying at yours.

Though Lando wouldn’t admit it when he was a teenager, he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldn’t even ask why, he’s just do it. There are so many pictures on your phone and Polaroids of him in “embarrassing” situations ━━ like one where he had a face mask on and his nails painted. You keep that one in the back of your phone case. He would let you braid his hair, practice makeup on him, help him with his skincare, and so many other things. This would always be in the secrecy of your room and when your families weren’t there because he dreaded the day his family saw him like that.

He had no idea that you had shown his sisters and parents almost every single one. They promised to keep it quiet, and they did. You also know they won’t tell him that they have some of those pictures on their phones. It’s a secret between you and them, a need to know thing.

Whenever you had sleepovers at his house, you would stay with his sisters because you weren’t allowed to be with him ━━ for good reason ━━ and because you loved his sisters. As you got older, you bonded more with them, helping them out with boy problems and girl problems, because everyone had those girls in high school who made your life a living hell. You broke down crying when you found out they were moving to Glastonbury. How would you survive without not being able to hug your boyfriend? How would you cope without the gossip sessions with his sisters? The talks about your life over helping Cisca with dinner and talking politics with Adam? Laughing at embarrassing moments of Lando with his brother?

Before that, you had put off getting your license. You walked or took buses to most places, and it saved you money. When you found out they were moving though, you made it your life’s mission it get your license and a car. You were on moving day, helping the family with setting things up and cleaning up the place. You still remember the dinner you had that night. It wasn’t fancy, just Chinese takeout on a table in the half put together living room, but it was one of the moments where you truly felt like family. It wasn’t that you hadn’t before, but it was the private ness of the situation that really hit your heart. You begged to stay over, not caring that it was a school night, but you couldn’t. You hugged everyone goodbye with teary eyes, kissing Lando, and promising to be back soon.

And you were. When you had that car, you spent an unbelievable amount of money on gas. You drove to his house almost every weekend. Sometimes he would come over to your house, but it was mostly you going over there out of convenience. If Lando wanted to go to yours, he’d probably have to pile all of his siblings in the car, while you didn’t have to do that. Besides driving to Glastonbury, your car was also used as a pick me up. Whenever something happened with his sisters, you’d be there in a heartbeat, telling them to get in ━━ telling Lando he can’t come with him grumbling something under his breath ━━ and you’d go and grab food. Whatever they needed, you were there ready to do it? Boy problems? Junk food and a sad playlist. School problems? Listening to them vent and giving them advice. Period problems? That depended on that they wanted. You even remember one time on March break Flo had an experience with a boy and you took her to a rage room . . . It was so fun, and you definitely did it again with Cisca.

While you were there for all the important events in Lando’s life, he was the same. He was there when your grandma died, and you swore he was one of the few things that kept you together. He was there when you graduated high school and got accepted into your dream school.

Your relationship stayed the same throughout his whole career, you to where you both were now, living in Monaco. You still acted like teenagers, jokingly fighting over little things and teasing each other. Your love baver wavered, it stayed the same for each other, maybe even became stronger. There were periods in your relationship like when he first started in Formula One and you moved to college that it was tricky, but you go through it. You always would.

As you sat on the sofa in your home and twirled the ring on your finger, you remembered the whole of your relationship and the future of it. You were broken out of your trance by a kiss on your head. You hummed, not turning to look at him. “She’s gone to bed. She’s been changed and given her bottle. You smiled and looked up at him, “thank you.” He kissed you on your lips, “of course. You ready to go to bed, Mrs. Norris?” You chuckled and got up, walking around to the couch to meet him in his arms.

“Always, Mr. Norris, always.”

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A digital comic of Celia Ripley and Samama Khalid from The Magnus Protocol. Celia is a taller, slim, Korean woman with pale skin, short black hair, rectangular glasses, gold piercings, and dimples. She is wearing a coat, vest, scarf, trousers, and nice shoes, all in green and dark purple with gold accents. Sam is a shorter, fat, South Asian man with brown skin, short curly black hair, a mustache and small goatee, and black earrings. He is wearing a coat, turtleneck, cardigan, trousers, and nice shoes, all in brown, dark red, and green.

They are standing in a hallway in front of a closed door. Celia is spinning a set of keys, and they are smiling at each other.

Celia: Well, this is me. I had a really good time, Sam. Sam: Yeah, me too! Celia: We should do this again. Sam: Y-Yeah! I'd like that a lot, Celia.

She goes to unlock her door, peeking back to smile at Sam, who is standing awkwardly, looking away. She opens her door with a creak and gives him a shrug.

Celia: Thanks again for walking me home, Sam. I really appreciate it.

She pauses, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. Sam smiles, gesturing about sheepishly. The text as he speaks takes up the next three panels, partly obscured by the two of them and fading towards the bottom.

Sam: OH! Well, you know it was no big deal I just figured you know. It's polite and it gives us more time to talk and it's not always safe out there at night. Not that you can't handle yourself I just you know and I figured company would be nice on the walk back and we were already having so much fun so-

As he talks, Celia calmly steps closer, smiling, lifting her hands up near his face. He notices her hands, looks up at her, and then looks slightly downward towards her lips as she leans closer, his eyes going sparkly. A shadow falls over him as she blocks out the light.

Sam: It's really no.... problem....

She smiles, looking at him with intent and then looks down at his lips. A pink haze appears behind them in the background. She finally tilts her head and kisses him, knocking her glasses askew. The background is all pink with hearts surrounding them. There are two closeups, one of their lips touching and one after they've pulled slightly back, lips glistening and pink sparkles surrounding their faces.

She stands back up, smiling down at him, pink haze fading behind her, before startling slightly. She is still holding his face, slightly squishing his cheeks. His eyes are still shut and he is blushing severely, hair slightly mussed. He opens his eyes, expression vague, with tiny hearts in his eyes and sparkles around him, pink haze remaining behind him, before he suddenly tips back, surrounded by hearts, and giggles "hee-hee". The tail of the speech bubble forms a heart. Celia panics, leaning forward to grab him.

He snaps back, haze gone, with a "POP!" as she pulls him up, and they are chest-to-chest for a moment before Sam pulls back, blushing, looking awkward. He clears his throat before abruptly turning around and walking off.

Sam: OKAY BYE CELIA. (smaller bubble, an aside) Sleep well.

She watches him leave, amused and confused, and chuckles "heh-heh", a couple hearts around her. She waves, heading into her flat as he leaves, embarrassed.

Celia: See you at work Monday, Sam! Sam, in a thought bubble: FUUUUCK

end ID]

~~~~

I FINISHED THE THING YAY please enjoy ripsam being. silly geese <3 after a nice date <3

[peachsayshi]

i think it’d be so cute if sukuna is napping and his son comes to put flowers in his hair 🥹

 ·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: fluff; domestic - wc: 704

"Rai?"

You glance from room to room, your worry pinching between your brows. The two of you had just come back from the garden and while you were distracted speaking to your ladies in waiting, your son decided to scamper off with his little basket of treasures somewhere else within the palace. It takes you a few minutes until his possible whereabouts click in your head, so you turn on your heel and head towards the opposite direction.

The screen door is open, revealing the cursed king's quarters. Sukuna was fast asleep, taking his usual mid-afternoon nap. Rai is standing by his side, one hand holding his basket while the other slowly rummages through the delicate flowers inside.

Your son places a yellow flower between the blades of his father's pink hair, having already curated a small field while you've been searching for him this whole time.

Rai scrunches his nose thoughtfully, a unique little trait he does when thinking which Sukuna recently pointed out to you. He rummages through the petals and leaves, until finally pulling out a purple bloom that suited his eye. The stem is longer and thicker than the others, but you hold back a laugh watching your son directly stab the end atop the crown of his father's head.

Sukuna grimaces.

Rai huffs out a breath of disappointment, mirroring his father's disgruntled expression as he tries to plunge the flower into the roots of his scalp once again.

Sukuna groans lightly, bringing one arm to lightly wave over his head, assuming it might just be a pesky fly.

Rai pulls the flower close to his face, staring at it thoughtfully before raising his brow as an idea passes through.

He then, smartly, slides the stem through the crack behind Sukuna's ear, effectively waking up your beast from his slumber.

Sukuna's eyes flutter open, one hand reaching to swipe away his son's tiny palm but the second he feels the warmth of his skin his whole body relaxes.

"What are you doing, pest?" he murmurs, the scratch in his voice a sign of his exhaustion.

"We got flowers!" your son squeaks, the basket slipping from his hand as Sukuna scoops him up from the ground.

He stands upright - his height daunting, and your child almost a comical figure clutched against his muscular frame.

Rai brings two hands to his cheeks, "You look nice, papa!"

"I was sleeping," he pouts with frustration, noticing your presence when he tilts his head to face you.

His shoulders relax, his body angling your way as he approaches you. He shakes his hair out halfway through, a rain of flowers cascading into a trail behind his feet.

Rai whips his head furiously. "Papa, the flowers!" he exclaims, wriggling slightly to release himself.

Sukuna sighs as he crouches onto the floor, allowing Rai to gather up the flowers that fell.

"Wait, I'll put 'em back on..." his son insists.

Sukuna rolls his eyes before gazing up at you helplessly from underneath his lashes, remaining kneeled to stay on his son's level.

"Just toss it away-" he curly replies.

Rai pauses and looks down at the flowers in his hands. A few seconds register for him to comprehend his father's command, but he misunderstood the snide comment and instead through the flowers above his head like they were strings of confetti.

Sukuna facepalms, and you chuckle.

Rai giggles at both your reactions, and picks up the bruising petals and wilting stems from the ground.

Despite his withdrawn reactions, Sukuna's body responds with devotion. He makes room for his son to slot himself back into his frame, and naturally tilts his head lower so that he can stick the flowers back into his hair once again.

You inch closer to the pair, your lover instantly curling an arm around the back of your thighs to welcome you into his embrace.

"He's right," you blurt, "you do look pretty..."

"Don't start with me, brat," Sukuna teasingly responds through gritted teeth.

When Rai manages to stick the last flower back on, he seals the act by holding his father's chin and kissing him softly on the jaw.

The cursed king hums, and your heart flutters with love.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 1

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: When you try to surprise your brother with a visit in the hopes of mending your strained relationship, it does not go as planned. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you decide to get a little revenge. And who better to do it with than the head Tornado Wrangler himself... Word Count: 3509 TW: Family Conflict, Brief Mention of Reader's Clothes/Breasts, Unsucessful Flirting, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Grabbing your backpack off the seat beside you, you stood and joined the crowd of passengers making their way to the front of the bus. You stopped to let an elderly couple join the line in front of you and used the momentary pause to glance out the window at your destination. A small diner in need of a fresh coat of paint and a good window washing sat off to the left while several rows of gas pumps were lined up on the right. Trucks, vans, campers, and SUVs filled almost every parking spot and spilled into the grassy field around the lot. Some vehicles were ancient, rusted machines that barely looked driveable while others were so fresh and high-tech they could have just been driven off a lot. Those were the vehicles you were looking for.

Stepping off the bus, you headed towards the group of four shiny new vehicles on the other end of the parking lot. On the way, your head was on a constant swivel as you took in everything around you: a middle-aged couple arguing loudly about who forgot to tie down the lawn chairs the last time they stopped, a somewhat familiar-looking man in a cowboy hat unloading a piece of equipment from his huge red truck while another long-haired man filmed him, a woman with dreadlocks fiddling with a remote control only for a large drone to drop out of the sky a moment later and land at her feet, a few children racing towards the diner with their exasperated mother trailing behind yelling at them to watch where they were going. 

It was utter chaos and you loved it already. 

As you approached the vehicles, you saw the Storm PAR logos printed on the sides and breathed a sigh of relief that after this sixth bus stop, you had finally tracked them down. You still didn’t see who you were looking for, so you walked up to a man with dark curly hair wearing a white button-down Storm PAR shirt who was currently crouched down examining a weird solar panel-looking piece of equipment set up next to one of the vans. As you cleared your throat, he looked up from the machine and blinked, as if he was shocked to see someone standing there despite the crowds of people around him. Glancing around, he asked, “Um…can I help you?”

You guess you shouldn’t be too surprised by his reaction. In your cut-off shorts, boots, and halter top, you looked like you should be hanging out one of the trucks you passed when you first got off the bus, not the polished, company polo shirt-wearing tech heads milling around the Storm PAR vehicles. And you didn’t even want to know what your hair and makeup looked like after four hours on that poorly air-conditioned packed bus. 

So, instead of taking offense at this guy’s slightly dismissive tone, you smiled as you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Hi. I’m looking for Scott.”

The man glanced over his shoulder but made no move to stand up. “He’s here but he’s in the middle of some data calculations. Can I help you with something?”

“Not really. I had time off college and he mentioned you guys were having a really active season so I figured why not come out and see all this in action.” The man was still looking at you like he couldn’t understand why you were talking to him and you suddenly realized you hadn’t explained the most important detail. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I should have mentioned, Scotty’s my older brother.”

Instantly, the man’s demeanor shifted and a huge toothy smile spread across his face. “Oh! You should have led with that. Nice to meet you.”

Rising to his feet, he stuck out his hand and you shook it, officially introducing yourself. When he said his name was Javi Rivera and it was your turn for things to click into place. “Javi! You’re Scotty’s business partner, right? He’s told me about you.”

Javi let your hand drop and his eyes shifted towards his equipment once more. “Really? Well, um, you know, I’ve, uh, heard great things about you too.”

You grinned, grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “Scotty never even mentioned he had a sister, did he?” Javi gave a slight shrug, still not looking directly at you and you laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Never wants to get personal, everything’s about business with him. To be honest, I don’t see or hear from him that much which is just another reason I figured I’d come surprise him when I had the chance. Plus, I read some research Scotty left lying around last time he came home and it was really interesting. I’m excited to be able to see what you guys do firsthand.” 

“Well, I’m sure Scotty will be glad to see you. Let me go grab him.”

Javi turned and disappeared into one of the vans. A moment later, he returned with your brother following closely behind. “Javi, I was in the middle of some important calculations. Why did I have to–” Scott stumbled to a stop as he saw you standing there.

Since he was a teenager, Scott had mastered the art of keeping his emotions hidden. He could be fuming mad, joyously happy, or heartbrokenly sad, and in each case keep the same perfect mask on his face. However, you knew his one tell. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his eyes. And right now, you could practically see flames burning within them. 

For the first time, you wondered if coming to see him had been such a good idea. Shifting from one foot to the other, you tried to force a smile as you half-heartedly held out your arms. “Surprise.”

Scott remained rooted to the spot, his only movement the constant forceful chewing of his gum. Javi glanced back and forth between the two of you, the smile slowly draining from his face. Hesitantly, he explained, “She said she was your sister so I figured…”

A cultivated smile spread across Scott’s lips but it didn’t reach his eyes as they continued to burn into yours. “No, it’s all good. I’m just surprised to see her.” Without breaking eye contact, he held his tablet out to Javi who took it from him. “Give me a few minutes to talk to her and then I’ll get back to those numbers.”

Javi started to protest, assuring him there was no rush and he could take his time, but Scott had already closed the distance between you. Grabbing your arm tightly to the point of slight painfulness, he guided you past the rest of the Storm PAR vehicles and into the empty field. 

Once you were far enough away that you knew none of his co-workers could hear you, you wrenched your arm from his grasp, snapping, “Get off of me!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his mask finally slipping as his nostrils flared and lips curled into a snarl.

“Well, hello to you too!” You examined your arm where he had grabbed you, massaging it gently. “Can’t a girl come visit her big brother?”

“Not when she wasn’t invited or even asked if she could come beforehand! What were you thinking? This isn’t one of your wild party vacations. This is my job!”

“I know that. I wasn’t expecting you to drop everything and take me sightseeing. I just thought I could hang around and watch you guys in action. I’ve read some of the research you left at Christmas and I was hoping maybe I could learn a little more about it.”

Scott shook his head, his hands on his hips. “This is our busiest time of the season. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“What do you think I am? Eight? I don’t need you to babysit me. I told you, I’m interested in what you do and thought I could just hang around and see how it all works.” You shrugged, “Maybe you could even take me on a chase or two.”

“Hell no. I won’t have you getting scared and causing us to have to turn around in the middle of a storm run. Javi and I have worked too hard to get this company to where it is and I’m not going to let you ruin that because, on a whim, you thought it would be fun to see a storm.” Scott scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “It’s so typical of you to still think that just because you want something or because Mom and Dad will pay for it, everyone else will bend over backward to accommodate you. Well, I don’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore.”

You took several deep breaths and tried to keep your anger in check. This was not at all how you thought this would go, but lashing out right now would only make things worse. So, in a calm, steady voice, you tried to shift approaches. “Scotty, we haven’t spent any real time together since you left for MIT. And back then…I’m not proud of the person I was and I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. But I was a kid who didn’t know any better! I’ve grown up since you left. And this trip isn’t just something I thought would be fun to do ‘on a whim’. I worked hard to save up the money to come here because I wanted to see you and spend time with you—however little time you may be able to work into your schedule. And I promise I won’t get scared or make you stop your chase. If I don’t like it, I’ll suck it up until it’s over then not ask to go again.” Taking a step forward, you gently placed your hand on his arm and gave him a timid smile. “Let me show you who I am now…how much I’ve changed. Please, Scotty.”

But Scott yanked his arm away and took a step back. “I don’t care where you go, but you need to stay away from me and Storm PAR. Now, I have work to do.” He took one last look at you, and, for just a moment, you thought maybe he felt bad for what he said and was reconsidering things. But then, he blew a small bubble with his gum and popped it loudly in your face. You jumped slightly, the sound sharp and startling, before glaring at him. He had been doing that since you were kids and he knew how much you absolutely despised it. Shooting you one last smug smirk, Scott turned and walked off towards the cluster of Storm PAR vehicles. 

You turned to look out into the open field, lip quivering, as you fought against the tears that were burning your eyes. Things between you and Scott had been pretty bad when he left for college, but you hadn’t realized he still really thought so poorly of you. The last few holidays or family events he had been forced to come to, things seemed to be getting a little better. You thought that maybe you had reached a turning point in your relationship. But now it was clear you had been very wrong.

Looking back at the diner and overflow of vehicles, you wondered what you should do now. You had no idea when the next bus came by or how to get a ticket home or if there was a motel nearby you could stay in for the night or how you would even get there if there was or what you would do in the morning or—

UGH! The longer you stared at the Storm PAR logo on the side of the van Scott had disappeared into, the less hurt you felt. Instead, the pain began to shift into outrage. How dare Scott treat you like this? You had spent a lot of money and wasted two weeks of your summer vacation to take this trip to see him. You knew it would involve listening to him drone on about numbers and graphs you could barely comprehend for most of the time, but you were willing to smile, nod, and seem interested to show you cared about what he did. But no! He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself or prove that you weren’t here to interfere with his work. He had just torn you down before turning his back on you and walking away. That asshole!

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky and you realized standing here fuming about Scott wasn’t going to help your situation. You could do that once you found a bus schedule or a place to stay for the night. However, as you stormed back through the parking lot, something caught your eye. 

When you had come through the first time and passed the familiar-looking man and the long-haired guy with the camera, you had only seen their truck from behind. But now that you were looking at the front, you noticed the distinctive metal logo attached to the front of the truck’s grille: a tornado with horns jutting out the top of the vortex. And you realized why the man in the cowboy hat looked familiar. 

Scott might not talk to you very often, but during the instances that he had, you had heard plenty of complaints about Tyler Owens and his group of Tornado Wranglers. Everything they did was the complete opposite of how Storm PAR operated and it drove Scott crazy that while he was out there doing the “real work”, this group of amateur YouTube chasers were the ones getting all the attention and acclaim when all they were really doing was getting in Storm PAR’s way. 

And Scott seemed to have another level of hatred for Owens himself.    

Out of curiosity, you had looked up the Wranglers’ YouTube channel and found it pretty entertaining. While Scott viewed every aspect of his work with complete seriousness and professionalism, these guys tackled the same work like they were having the time of their lives. They were still informative, explaining to their viewers how tornadoes formed and the types of destruction they can cause, but they would then drive straight into the center of a funnel or take chat requests of crazy things to do in the storm. It honestly seemed like a great way to get people excited about learning about tornadoes while also keeping them entertained. And it seemed like their nearly 850,000 followers would agree. No wonder Scott hated them so much. 

Suddenly, you had an idea—the perfect little act of revenge.

Changing directions, you made your way over to Owens’s truck. You could see he was now alone, tinkering with the equipment attached to the bed of his truck. He had traded his white cowboy hat for a faded backward cap and had pushed his sleeves up above his elbows as he worked, his sun-bronzed skin on full display in the dying light.

Though you had only watched a handful of the Tornado Wranglers’ videos, you had a pretty good idea of the kind of man Tyler Owens was and how you could persuade him to help you. After all, these narcissistic, jacked-up truck-driving, overcompensating pretty boys were all the same. The kind who had been fawned and swooned over their entire adult lives just because they flashed a charming smile or a playful wink in the right direction. However, with just a little stroking of their ego or a bat of your eyes, they could become putty in your hands. All you had to do was introduce yourself.

Reaching the side of the truck, you tucked your hands into your back pockets so it thrust your chest forward and, biting your lip, called out coyly, “Hey there, cowboy.”

Owens glanced up, a curious smile curling across his lips as he saw you, his eyes traveling from your head to boot and back up. “Well, hello there.”

Giggling softly as you placed your hand on the side railing, you asked in a sing-songy voice, “You’re Tyler, right? The big...bad…tornado wrangler?” With each word, you walked your fingers across the railing, your eyes locked on his.

He leaned back, wiped his hands on his jeans, and said, “I might be. Depends on who’s asking.” He was still looking at you but his smile had slipped slightly and you realized you might not have grabbed his attention as well as you thought.

Placing both hands on the railing now, you pushed yourself up slightly, your chest pressed together, and you looked up at him from under your lashes. “What if I’m asking?”

Owens stared at you for a long moment, his eyes still examining you thoughtfully, though you were shocked to see they stayed locked on your face and didn’t dip down to your breast like you had expected. Then, finally, he said, “You seem like a nice girl, sweetheart, but I don't think I'm what you're looking for. Good luck though.” He gave you a kind, yet dismissive nod, and went back to whatever he had been working on.

Your jaw dropped, lips moving silently as you tried to figure out what just happened. This kind of thing always worked on guys like him in the past. Show a little skin, stroke their egos a little, and they would be wrapped around your finger in no time. But he hadn’t even given your act more than a passing glance. It was possible you weren’t his type or maybe he was in a committed relationship, but neither of those things had exactly deterred guys in the past. 

You turned around—properly dismissed—and were just about to walk away when another thought crossed your mind. What if…what if you had misjudged him? What if he wasn’t the kind of guy you assumed he was? From what you had seen in his videos, he was cocky and overconfident and a huge flirt, but what if that was all for the cameras? During your very brief interaction, he seemed polite and respectful even as you tried to throw yourself at him, something no other guy had ever done in that situation. 

Maybe you had gone about this all wrong. Maybe you needed a different approach. A more honest one…

You hurried around the other side of the truck so you were in front of him once more. Dropping all the over-the-top flirtatiousness from your voice, you said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought…it doesn’t matter what I thought, but the point is I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had a really shitty day and approached this situation all wrong.”

Owens didn’t raise his head, but his eyes drifted back in your direction. Feeling like he was offering you a chance, you explained, “Listen, the deal is I came here to surprise my brother with a visit, and as soon as he saw me, he told me he doesn’t want me here and I should fuck off out of his way.”

That got his attention. Looking up, his brow furrowed, Owens asked, “Your brother said that to you?”

You rolled your eyes and hit the heel of your palm against the side of the truck. “Well, not in those exact words but the sentiment was there. The point is, he told me he didn’t care where I went as long as I left him and his team alone. So, I plan on respecting his wishes…and wondered if I could hang out with your team instead.”

“Well–” He leaned back, clearly not interested in your request, but you cut him off before he could turn you down.

“Please! It’ll just be for a day or two. I promise not to get in the way or mess with any of your work. I just know he has a problem with you guys and seeing me with you will drive him insane.” 

Putting down the wrench he was holding, Owens shook his head. “Back up…who are we talking about now? Who’s your brother?”

You realized you needed to get better at introducing people into a conversation before jumping right in. “Scott? He works for Storm PAR?” He hesitated so you sighed and turned towards the other group of storm chasers at the other end of the lot. With one hand on your hip, you pointed lazily with the other, “The surly tall one who never takes off his stupid baseball cap?”

Instantly, Owens straightened up and you knew you had piqued his interest. Chuckling, he asked, “Wait, so you’re telling me Mr. Clipboard and Chewing Gum is your brother?” You nodded. “And you want my help messing with him?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, will you do it?”

The cowboy leaned over the side of the truck and gave you a wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve come to the right place.”

Part 2 coming 8/19!

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[midwestprincesss]

how did it end?

part 1 || patrick zweig x fem!reader

"you cannot love somebody into loving you"

summary: your relationship with patrick has been on and off for ages. you knew him and he knew you. you love him but he only loves you when he can get something out of it. but then, can that even be considered love?

a/n(READ THIS BITCH): random ass specific fact about the reader but she is skincare obsessed like me. acne prone girlies yk what im talking about. btw I KNOW PATRICK DOESN'T GO TO STANFORD BUT WE WILL PRETEND HE SPENDS A LOT OF TIME THERE OK. also this series will only continue if u guys give me feedback. and hype me up. cause i have no motivation. patrick girlies help me i know ur out there💪 also this first chapter is like. they're friends but pining. no angst yet oopsie

2004, stanford college.

being in love with patrick was difficult. really, really fucking difficult. it was almost like you had to put in an effort to be in love with him. nevertheless, you didn't. to you it just felt easy. you wish you could get rid of the feeling, but it doesn't seem to want to go away.

patrick zweig could be very easily described in one word: player. and by that i don't only mean tennis player.

but he was easy to love, too. if we ignore all the mixed signals he always gave you, he's actually a sweet guy.

he remembers your coffee order. he listens to your problems. he calls you to check up on you. and he takes care of you while you're out partying. and after that. and in the morning. he holds your hair and rubs your back as you puke out whatever the fuck you drank last night. he gives you his clothes. out of all the girls he knows, he gives you his clothes.

this was one of those times.

saturday morning.

you woke up with a horrible headache and with a certain curly-haired boy next to you. you try to remember what happened last night, but you give up after about three minutes of staring at the ceiling in silence. who cares, really? at least you woke up in your bed, and not on a random bench outside. not that patrick would ever let that happen.

he has the key to your dorm. he spent most of his days with you, so you figured it would be totally fine for him to have it.

you rub your eyes sleepily as you look to your left- patrick was not sleeping either.

"morning." he said, simply. you groaned in response.

"glad you asked, and you're welcome." he said sarcastically. "you got fucking wasted, like usual. i had to carry you from the party. not that you couldn't walk, but you just insisted on it. when we finally got here you threw up all over yourself. and then in the toilet, like three times, i think."

your eyes widened in disgust. you looked down at your clothes, expecting to find a now vomit-stained white dress on. to your surprise, you were wearing a dark green tee - you remember you've seen it on patrick once- and a pair of uncomfortably large boxers. you're surprised they didn't fall off while you were sleeping.

"patrick." you said, terrified. "please tell me i took my makeup off before sleeping. or at least washed my face." patrick sighed. 'blah blah blah i have sensitive skin blah blah blah i'll break out if i sleep with my makeup on' you always told him, whenever he was sleeping over.

"you didn't." he said. then went quiet for a few seconds, but just for his own amusement. he thought you looked cute when you were worried. but worried was not a big enough word for the look on your face- you were more like, mortified, maybe? so he decided to stop joking around. "i took your makeup off. i couldn't find those circular white thingies you do it with so i used a towel-"

you cut him off with a laugh. you could actually kiss him. maybe you shouldn't, though. your breath smelled like actual shit. looking to your right, at the nightstand next to your side of the bed, you noticed your earrings and necklace and rings arranged neatly next to eachother and you swore you felt your heart flutter.

you knew patrick cared about you, but you didn't think he would be so attentive. usually, you don't get so drunk, so you can actually do what you need to do by yourself. even then, he insists he should do it for you. but you always refused him, partly because you didn't want to bother him but you were also pretty convinced he would not do things properly. he proved you wrong.

"for how long have you been awake?" you ask him.

"i'm not sure whether i even slept. you kept talking on your sleep. and tossing. and turning. and stealing the blanket. i think you even slapped me once-" he started laughing as you started muttering apologies, but he immediately told you not to worry about it.

you sighed, then you both went silent. you examined his face- he really did seem tired- droopy eyes, dark eyebags, eyelids partially closed. but still smirking at you. no one and nothing could ever wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.

"you look cute." he broke the silence, letting his thumb linger on your cheek.

"i feel like shit." you snickered, hiding your face in your hands but he immediately pulled them away, kissing your knuckles.

that took you by surprise. sure, you and patrick were affectionate with eachother, but this felt way more intimate than usual. what was going on with him?

suddenly, you looked at the time. 10:30 am. you were late for breakfast. like, really late. you figured there wouldn't be anything left in the cafeteria by now.

"shit. we'll have to starve until lunch, patrick" you told him, a hint of irony in your voice.

"don't worry, i'll go get us something from the supermarket." he said as he got up, pulling a grey hoodie over his head. he took his keys and wallet then looked down lovingly at you as you still rested on the bed. "call me if you need anything else" he said , kissing your forehead then leaving. leaving your dorm, but also leaving you swooning over him.

you were in it for good.

[elixirina]

Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

[randomshyperson]

Sanctify - Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Kinktober #06

Summary: After your worst semester at NYU, your Aunt Agatha convinces you to join the Children of Chaos as an alternative, and very expensive form of therapy. Leaving the cult becomes a very difficult task when you develop an unexpected affection for their leader.

Warnings: (+18), dom!wanda and brat!reader, rough smut, face-fucking, power dynamics, brat taming (ish), praising, lots of tension and teasing, definitely blasphemous on some levels, a lot of plot, mentions of past toxic relationship, unspecified age gap.  | Words: 7.900k

A/N-> I’ve been dying to write something about Cult Leader Wanda since I watched the second season of Yellowjackets and became obsessed with Lottie Matthews, so while writing this, I was picturing Lottie’s cult to be fair. I also like how I ended this, as it makes it possible to turn it into a series. Good reading!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Although the movement of the car brought a gentle breeze through the window, the weather was hot enough to actually make thinking painful.  In an attempt to relieve the temperature a little, and perhaps escape Aunt Aggie's provocative reminiscences about the long journey and the events that made this trip necessary in the first place, you put your arm on the door, and propped your chin up, your face on the safety edge outside the window.

New York had been out of sight for hours and had given way to countless trees and a plantation further and further away. You figured it wouldn't take long for the radio signal to stop working, but to your pleasant surprise, the soft melody of cassette tapes hidden in the glove compartment by Nicholas were picked up once that happened.

Your cousin had grown up over the summer - His still youthful appearance now featured neatly cut curly hair and reading glasses that he often hung on the collar of his shirt. When younger, it was common to hear how much he resembled Sir. Scratch, his scumbag father in the words of Agatha and the other adults, not yours - but over time, he looked much more like his mother.

Nick met your gaze through the rearview mirror and gave you an assuring smile. You didn't reciprocate, but not because you were upset. Just because you were distracted by the huge sign coming around the next corner. 

"Oh, boy, I've missed this place." Agatha commented with a nostalgic sigh, as soon as she noticed the entrance plaque. She slowed down enough that the wind wasn't enough anymore, so you returned to your original position with a low snort.

"There's still time to turn around." You muttered, getting a warning look from the older woman.

She leaned over, without answering you, to grab something from the open glove compartment. You pushed your hair back as a pamphlet was dropped into your lap.

"I know you hated the idea, but you need to trust your elders for once in your life, darling." Agatha began, as you grimaced at the crumpled paper. The title Children of Chaos was painted in red, but it was faded in several places. "The 70s were the apex for this place, I had a lot of fun here. It's such a unique experience, connecting with nature and the chaos that is part of us all."

Nick chuckled through his nose. "Mom, don't start your witch thing again, you'll scare her." Mocked your cousin from the passenger seat, but Agatha waved him off.

"She'll thank me when she gets there, I'm sure." 

But you didn't do that. When the car finally came to a stop, and what looked more like a fancy farm merged with the forest took over your vision, all you did was crumple the Immersive Community pamphlet into your pocket and throw your old backpack over your shoulder.

Aunt Aggie and your cousin hugged you tightly, saying they were going to write, but they couldn't get past the reception desk since they weren’t part of the program. You saw Agatha take your mom’s borrowed credit card out of her purse to start your so-called treatment, and the last goodbyes left your tongue before one of the tutors started the tour of the place.

In between presenting a large number of different huts that served as dormitories and classrooms for the most diverse activities - painting, handicrafts or poetry were the ones you memorized - Mr. Emil Blonsky also took the time to welcome you, emphasizing how incredible the community was and how lucky anyone was to be there. You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that only those with money could.

Finally, Blonsky showed you the stables and greenhouses on the edge of the property, and on the way back to the rest of the huts, you noticed the path up the hill.

"And what's up there?" 

The man stopped walking with a small smile. He was wearing clothes very similar to those of the other people you'd seen on the tour, the difference being a golden necklace with a strange symbol that was hidden by the movement of his loosely buttoned shirt.

"We must not go up there without permission." He begins, although he's smiling, there's something in his gaze that says this rule cannot be disrespected. " The Prophetess' Retreat is a sacred place of peace and reflection." 

You look back at the hut at the bottom of the mountain, far enough away that you can't make out the decorations on the balcony, but still beautiful and quiet, high enough to make it look like the prophet had her own little piece of heaven.

"So, no bothering the boss without asking? Got it." You retort, getting a chuckle from the other at the summary. He starts walking again along the path towards the general area, but you can't help the curiosity burning in your chest. "About this prophet, will she be isolated up there or will I get a chance to meet her?"

Blonsky walks up beside you, and looks you in the eye to say; "You'll meet her when it's time to meet her, not early and not late."

You don't know what to say to that, everything here is so theatrical in a way. Mystical, you might say. It suits Aunt Aggie so well, that it's not hard to imagine her here, dancing to the midnight moon and talking to the trees. She already does that in New York, it should have been much simpler in the middle of the forest.

"Come, child. You must start the cleaning process soon." Announces the man as he picks up the pace on the trail. With a sigh, you decide not to contradict him by saying that you bathed before coming, thank you. 

It was soon revealed that the cleansing process really meant a bath - the colleagues around you who helped you laughed when you joked that it was a strange way of saying that someone stinks, before clarifying that it was nothing of the sort. The Cleansing Process was a bath of salts and herbs, in a tub of stones and some kind of botanical baptism, the latter of which only members who had completed thirteen full moons could take part in. You would be invited to the baptism with the prophet's blessing, but there was still a long way to go.

Blonsky handed your uniforms, and explained the last rules before leaving you alone, or almost, since your hut was shared with six other people, and despite this, it seemed very comfortable and organized. There were bunk beds and private bathroom spaces, and at least three spacious shelves for each. The latter wouldn't be of much use to you, since you'd brought almost nothing and the vast majority of your belongings had been left at NYU. Just thinking about that place gave you a terrible stomach ache: You would have skipped dinner, but the mere suggestion of not attending made one of your colleagues frown in concern and repeat the rules, so you ended up giving that up.

The routine that followed was calm: it didn't surprise you that the new members were responsible for the hardest tasks, and it didn't bother you either. You were never afraid of hard work, and keeping your hands busy also helped to calm your mind, so it was a win-win. Besides, even if you didn't get the jobs nobody wanted, all veterans had chores. There was some rule about the amount of service time and dedication being rewarded, so those senior members could choose what they wanted to do first. 

You didn't have to worry about this anyway: you would do what you had to do because, after all, the agreement was to stay here only for the summer. However, with each passing day away from exams, traffic, and New York's typical filth, it became harder to imagine leaving the Children of Chaos and their strange harmony and kindness.

After three weeks in the group, you learned to knit. You also earned the privilege of mail when you showed up for all your appointments without delay and decided to check the items in the privacy of your cabin during the last hour of prayer.

Since you hadn't yet found your faith or received your calling or whatever weird way Blonsky explained this, you barely joined in the prayer sessions. This evening, excited to receive news from home, was no different.

Aunt Aggie wrote about the store doing well and mentioned your mother, who didn't write to you with more than vague words about hoping you'd feel better soon. The best present was hidden in Nicholas' letter about the university being a sack without his favorite cousin. Wrapped in silk and next to a lighter.

You haven't earned the right to write outside yet - something about a month in isolation to accomplish. So you just clutched the items to your chest and wished your cousin knew how grateful you were.

Your initial intention was to save the weed for some more stressful day - which was rare in the leisurely pace of this place - but the last letter made you consider using it all that night.

The recipient's perfect handwriting, and the address you knew by heart. You didn't even open the item, you put it away in your drawer and stood up with the weed hidden in your pants pocket.

The common area was empty, as the vast majority of your colleagues were praying. You stepped up to one of the bonfires and threw the unopened letter into the flames, without hesitation and without caring to see it burn. You turned on your heels and continued along the trail, heading for one of the few more secluded spots you had discovered during the hours of exploring between tasks.

The rules were clear about the prophet's hut but said nothing about the road towards it. And since apparently everyone there was afraid of upsetting the boss, that spot was always empty and the perfect place to smoke in hiding.

You leaned against a tree, curled up and lit the weed, and tried to keep away all the painful memories about last semester that the damn letter had brought up.

You were halfway through a joint when you heard a voice at the end of the trail next to you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

"Jesus fucking Christ." You gasped, jumping with fright and almost dropping the blunt to the ground. You looked sideways abruptly, imagining that you were hallucinating because of the weed, and were almost sure that you were when the words escaped you due to the apparition in front of you. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Instead of a uniform, she wore a loose dark wine dress that hugged her curves perfectly; her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back and her emerald eyes shone curiously in your direction. The dim light from the fire lamps scattered along the trail and the moon really made the woman look like an angel. 

You coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, you scared me." You clarified, the cigarette hidden behind your back a stupid attempt to mask what you were doing. Sure enough, your pupils were dilated, and it was very easy to see the smoke. So, as soon as you tried to hide it, you gave up, offering the woman an awkward chuckle and gesturing the cigarette gently. "Don't tell on me."

There was a soft pause, which you couldn't tell from the intoxication in your system. The woman watched for a moment as the charming gesture of bringing the cigarette to the smile formed on your lips and blew the smoke into the starry sky with your neck slightly stretched. Your mind seemed to clear, and before the woman could speak, you grimaced. "Wait, didn't you just say my name? How..?"

She smiled, folding her hands in front of her body. "It was premeditated that we met today, of course. I'm Wanda."

You've heard her name before, in conversation circles and in advertisements about her heavenliness hanging around. 

"Shit." It was your natural reaction, which made her laugh softly, and it must have been the weed's fault that the sound echoed in your mind and made your body shudder.

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you." She assures you with an easy smile playing on her lips, and you swallow dry, completely at a loss.

"Thanks... but I thought you were the boss." You mumble, and Wanda makes a funny expression, like a false realization. 

"Oh, you're right." She murmurs amusedly. "I think I can let this one slide if you'll share it with me." 

"Fuck, of course, here." Your limbs feel strange, almost too heavy to move around her. You awkwardly hand her the cigarette, certain that your face is flushed. Hell, the last time you were this clumsy was last semester, with-

"You swear a lot." Wanda's comment pulls you out of your daze. She takes a long drag before adding: "Especially for a Christian."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up." 

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you." 

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart." 

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose."  You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice." 

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way. 

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment. 

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks. 

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious. 

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority. 

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear." 

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?" 

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces. 

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order: 

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face. 

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath. 

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down. 

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot. 

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck. 

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her. 

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

[brenwritesss]

Tru Fru part 4

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: Paige takes you on a date to make up for an interrupted interaction, causing you two to fall even deeper.

a/n: the Paige pics above is the outfit I pictured her in during this chapter.

You were stressing. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. First, you had submitted an assignment last night two minutes after the cutoff, guaranteeing you a zero percent. Next, you woke up and made a bowl of cereal for breakfast only to realize that the milk had gone bad. You had found out the hard way. And now here you were, getting ready for a date Paige had planned a few days ago, only you couldn’t find your shoes anywhere and Paige was going to show up to your place any minute.

After that day that you and Paige almost fucked, she didn’t fall back on her promise of making it up to you. She had asked you out on a date which meant that this was your first date ever with Paige. And to say you were nervous was an understatement. When she texted you this morning, she had said to dress “not casual” to which you assumed meant more formal than you’d usually dress and as a girl who was a biology major who never really went out, your choices on dressing fancy were limited. Luckily, your roommate was a bit of a party girl, resulting in a closet with almost an endless amount of dresses. So you settled on a short black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, and a black jean jacket. You didn’t own any fancy shoes and unfortunately your roommate didn’t share a shoe size with you so your everyday sneakers just had to do. 

Finally, you had found your shoes under your couch, wondering just how exactly they had ended up there. As you put on your shoes, there was a knock on your door which meant Paige was here. You took a deep breath and made your way to the door and opened it. You were met with Paige looking up from the ground, meeting your eyes with her cool blue ones. She broke into a faint smile as she had her hands behind her back and her hair was down and curly with two pieces pulled back. She was wearing a colorful cardigan with cream colored pants. She was the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

She looks you up and down with that same smile. “Hi,” she said back to you. “You look really pretty.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling. Her own smile grew wider as you responded. “Not so bad yourself.”

She lightly scoffed, “I took so long to look good for you and ‘not so bad yourself’ is all I get?”

“Good for me?”

“Always.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment just taking each other in before Paige spoke, “I have something for you.”

“You do?” You didn’t expect Paige to bring you something as she had already planned the entire date.

 Paige shrugged. “Think of it as another apology for the livestream and as a way for making it up to you for being disrupted the other day.”

Your cheeks flushed as you remember the events and almost-sex the two of you had in your bedroom. And Paige noticed the color in your cheeks deepen as she brought it up, making her chuckle just a bit. She brought her hands out from behind her back and revealed a bag of Tru Fru. The banana ones.

You laughed as you took the bag from her. “Paige, that's the sweetest gift I’ve ever received,” you said sarcastically.

Paige’s smile widened even more. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

“I do,” you say as you set the bag on your counter and walk back to her. “Thank you.”

“Ready to go?” she asked you.

You nod and without hesitation, she takes hold of your hand, interlocking her fingers with yours. Your blush deepens even more and your heart starts to race. Even though you’ve already made out with this girl, every time she touched you it only made you want more. It made you want to be held by her. As if she was the only girl in the world who was allowed to touch you.

She opens the passenger door to her car to let you get in. As you sit in her car, you are taken back by how decorated it was. All over the front of the glove box were pictures of her and her basketball team. As she got in, she noticed you admiring all the photos. “They’re my favorite people.”

“I can tell,” you responded in awe of the photos. The Paige in the photos showed the same smile that she gave you at your door and your heart melted at the sight. She looks so happy.

She lifts down her sun visor above her head to show another couple photos stuck to it. “So I keep my teammates on my glove box and I keep my siblings up here along with my parents.”

You leaned over towards her to see the photos. You smiled at the sight of her arms wrapped around her brothers and sister. “That’s really cute, Paige.”

She gives you a soft smile, closing her visor and pointing to the visor above your head. “That one doesn’t have any photos yet but that may change soon.”

You raised your eyebrows at her. “Soon?”

She chuckles, “yeah, soon. Maybe.”

She starts her car and begins to drive, her right hand finding its way to your thigh. You put your hand on top of hers and intertwine your fingers together. You’ve never been this affectionate during a first date so this was new to you. But you would be lying if you told yourself you didn’t like it. “So where are we going?” you ask her.

You turned your head towards her and admired her beautiful side profile. You had never seen something so perfect. She glances at you and then back to the road before her. “Do you really want me to tell you or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Tell me,” you say softly. Her grip on your fingers and thigh tighten just slightly while simultaneously gripping the wheel with her other hand more tight. You did happen to enjoy the way her hand flexed when she gripped the steering wheel.

“There’s this restaurant that’s really good downtown so I thought I’d take you there.” You could hear the hint of nervousness in her voice which caused you to squeeze her hand in comfort.

“That’s really nice, Paige.”

The two of you spent the remainder of the drive in silence, stealing awkward yet comforting glances at one another. Paige’s hand never left yours as she drove you to the restaurant. The feeling of having this type of contact with her sent waves of pleasure through you and you liked every second of it. You wanted to know everything about her. Every story, every fear, every flaw, every wish, every dream. What you didn’t know was that she wanted to know everything about you too. What you also didn’t know was that prior to picking you up, a few of her teammates had to give her a pep talk in taking you out. She had been so nervous since this was the first real and serious date she’s had in a while and she was afraid of messing it up.

Paige pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and as you looked out your window, you were met with romantically lit lighting, car lights speeding up and down the street, and the sight of a numerous amount of couples walking along the sidewalk.

Paige held your hand as you walked into the restaurant, being greeted by the host and taken to be seated at a table. Your table was illuminated by a candle and flowers in the center of the table which made Paige’s face glow perfectly across from you. “I’ve never been here before,” you said, breaking the silence between you two for the first time since the car.

“Yeah, it’s a really nice place,” she paused, “I think you’ll like it.”

“So how was that practice the other day?” you ask her.

Paige furrowed her eyebrows, not understanding what you were talking about until it clicked that you were talking about when she had to leave your dorm the other day. “Oh it was nothing new. Coach was getting on our asses so it was just a ton of drills.”

Your waiter cuts the conversation between you as he comes to greet you and take your drink orders. After he leaves, you continue, “That makes me glad I’m not an athlete.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, well in that moment I wish I wasn’t. I was sore after we finished.”

“I think I’ll take homework over being sore any day.”

“Yeah?” Paige jokingly questioned you. “I’m assuming biology isn’t the greatest thing in the world either.”

“Oh it’s not,” you respond. “It’s a lot of science and math, unfortunately.”

“Yeah no I’ll stick to being an athlete.” 

You laughed at her response as your drinks arrived at the table. You spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what you wanted to eat. There was a lot on the menu and you being indecisive was no help whatsoever. As you sat there, completely focused on the menu, you failed to notice that Paige had been admiring you the entire time with a soft smile on her face. “What are you thinking of getting?”

Her words snap you out of focus, finally looking up at her. “Oh, um deciding between pasta or something else but I’m not the most gracious pasta eater.”

That earns another laugh from her. “I find that hard to believe.”

You tilt your head to the side. “What are you implying?”

“That you’ll look good doing anything, including eating pasta.” She smirks at you, making you almost melt under her gaze.

“I’m not looking to make a fool out of myself so that is not happening tonight. That’s more of a third date thing.”

“So there’s going to be a third?” She raises her eyebrow playfully at you that makes you hide your face behind the menu.

“Are you two ready to order or still need a few minutes?” Your server walks to the table, a notepad in hand as he looks at the two of you.

Paige shakes her head. “No, we are ready.” She looks at you before looking back at the server. “I’ll have the filet mignon and she will have the fettuccine alfredo.”

You widen your eyes at her as your server took your orders and left. You shake your head. “There’s no way you just did that.”

A sly smile appears on her face. “I’m too impatient to wait for the third date.”

“To see me eat pasta like a monster?” you question her, taking a sip of your drink.

She gives you a look that says ‘what the fuck, no’ and says, “no, to prove to you that you look good doing anything.”

You two make eye contact again and this time it’s different. As if there was nobody else in this restaurant. And she can feel that too because she speaks again, “and I do mean that.”

“Thank you.” You smile at her and she returns it. 

You spend the next hour eating and talking to Paige and you couldn’t be happier. Somehow, you had managed to not make a complete fool of yourself eating pasta in front of her. The two of you talked about almost everything: school, family, friends, the future, the past. And even though you already had started gaining feelings for Paige, the things she told you made you see her in more of a different light. That she wasn’t just the playful, sarcastic basketball player that you fought over a bag of Tru Fru with one night. But that she was family-oriented, driven, strong, and didn’t have a problem with showing vulnerability towards you.

Once you and Paige finished dinner, you both fought over who would pay to which she had ultimately won that fight. She took you back to her car and began the journey back to your dorm room. Her hand once again found its way to your thigh and you looked her way. “Thank you for tonight.”

Paige smiled. “Of course, I just hoped you liked it.”

“I did,” you paused. “I like spending time with you and getting to know you.”

“Yeah?” she asked with that smugness that was always underlying every word she said.

“Yeah.”

On the way back to your dorm, the two of you just talked more. However, it was harder to hear her with the noise of your own heart beating in your chest echoing in your ears. When she pulled into the parking lot of your dorm, she put the car in park and turned her whole body towards you. “I hope I made it up to you.”

You nod. “You did.”

“Good,” she spoke quietly, looking intently into your eyes. “Listen, I had a great time with you tonight. Well, I always do.”

“I had a great time too.”

“Oh, I have something else for you.” She reached into the back seat of her car and pulled out a target bag full of stuff. She hands you the bag and you look through it. It had to have been more than ten bags of different Tru Fru snacks.

“Oh my god, Paige,” you said, shocked as you looked through the bag. “This has to be over fifty dollars worth of Tru Fru.”

Paige just shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. It was worth it.”

You sat in silence for a few seconds, contemplating if the next move was the right one or not. But judging the situation as Paige staring at you and you staring back, there was no denying the obvious tension that could almost fog up the windows of her car.

“I have something for you too,” you respond.

“Oh yeah?” Paige leaned forward just a bit. “I thought I was the one who was giving the gifts tonight.”

Your eyes flickered between her eyes and soft lips. “Change of plans.”

Before you can think twice, you crash your lips onto hers, earning a small groan from her in response. She instantly deepened the kiss and caressed your cheek with her hand as your hands flew to her neck. Your lips moved together with hers in the most perfect way possible, igniting that same fire you felt when you kissed her for the first time back at your dorm.

Moments later you see a flash beside you as you kiss her. She keeps your bottom lip between her teeth as she pulls away slowly. She has her phone out in her left hand and you nudge towards it. “Did you just take a picture of us?”

She laughs. “Yeah,” she says as she pulls down the visor above you that had no photos. “Gonna have to start filling up this space with some new pictures and I think pictures of me and my girlfriend would be perfect.” She flashed her signature smirk as you froze.

“Girlfriend?” you ask quietly.

“If you want that, yes I want to make you my girlfriend. Things are still new but I just want you to know that I do plan on making you mine.”

Everything inside you wanted to scream out of pure happiness but you kept it together. Even though you and Paige hadn’t been talking for long, the two of you couldn’t mistake the undeniable chemistry the two of you shared. “Yes, I want that.”

“Good,” Paige said before she kissed you again. “I’m glad I fought with you over that bag of Tru Fru.”

“Me too.”

[eddywoww]

I know literally all soulmate mark fics have been done (tw: scarification and abuse)

But I’m imagining one where Steve has a mark and it’s fucking huge on his forearm. It says “Are you okay?” And his mom absolutely hates it. She glares at it when it pops up when he’s only eight years old and she won’t stop talking about it, won’t let it go.

She wants it gone.

So she pays to have it lazered off. Steve hates the process, cries before and during and after because he’s only a little boy and it hurts so badly.

But it doesn’t work. The phrase only pops up somewhere new. On his ankle. It’s a little smaller but it’s the same phrase. He tries to hide it this time but it’s no use, his mom spots it at a clothes fitting. Being rich meant that he had little to no privacy growing up.

She takes him to a different place this time and the process is even worse and Steve wishes they’d get better at it. Soulmarks aren’t like tattoos. The process is much more painful even than that. And poor Steve doesn’t get why he can’t have it, why his mom doesn’t want him to have it.

He would figure out later that she only wanted to control everything aspect of his life. The next time it pops up, she gets more egregious. Wants it to be cut out of his skin. Steve sobs the night before, knows it’ll scar so much worse on the meat of his bicep. He hates it, hates that she won’t let him have this and he just doesn’t understand. He keeps hoping it’ll show up somewhere she won’t find it.

After many failed tries, it finally does.

Steve almost doesn’t believe it when he finds the phrase, as tiny as possible, on the sole of his foot. He hides it. He wears socks, he tries his best to make sure his mom never sees it. He spends his teenage years trying harder and harder to get away from her. Stealing and saving money, making sure she can’t keep him locked away anymore.

Steve runs away eventually. Ends up going to college and buying goodwill furniture and getting a part time job and-

But it’s rough because he’s always been sort of shut in. A pretty ornament for his mom to show off at parties and galas. He didn’t spend much time around other kids. So school makes him nervous. Anxious to a startling degree.

It happens on a normal Tuesday. He’s in the campus lunchroom, a tray in hand. It’s shaking, his drink nearly spilling as he tries to make his way through the moving mass of students. It’s too much, all his senses firing at one hundred or more.

And then it happens. He almost drops the tray as someone bumps into him, only to grab Steve by the elbows, turning big brown eyes and curly hair toward him. A boy. A very attractive, apologetic looking boy.

Steve was mesmerized before he even opened his mouth.

“Are you okay?” The boy asks in shock. “I didn’t mean to almost knock you down, man. That’s my bad.”

Steve stares at him like he’s just seen the sun for the first time.

“I like your hair,” He says, because he can’t think of anything else to say and he really does.

Eddie Munson nearly drops him a second time. Just behind his ear, he too wears a phrase. Unscarred and unmarked. He has no problem showing it to Steve right there in their busy campus lunchroom.

“I like your hair.”

Eddie might be without Steve’s scars but he has some of his own. A life well lived, not very far from Steve. They don’t lament over lost time. After all, it was meant to be.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 1

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: When you try to surprise your brother with a visit in the hopes of mending your strained relationship, it does not go as planned. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you decide to get a little revenge. And who better to do it with than the head Tornado Wrangler himself... Word Count: 3509 TW: Family Conflict, Brief Mention of Reader's Clothes/Breasts, Unsucessful Flirting, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Grabbing your backpack off the seat beside you, you stood and joined the crowd of passengers making their way to the front of the bus. You stopped to let an elderly couple join the line in front of you and used the momentary pause to glance out the window at your destination. A small diner in need of a fresh coat of paint and a good window washing sat off to the left while several rows of gas pumps were lined up on the right. Trucks, vans, campers, and SUVs filled almost every parking spot and spilled into the grassy field around the lot. Some vehicles were ancient, rusted machines that barely looked driveable while others were so fresh and high-tech they could have just been driven off a lot. Those were the vehicles you were looking for.

Stepping off the bus, you headed towards the group of four shiny new vehicles on the other end of the parking lot. On the way, your head was on a constant swivel as you took in everything around you: a middle-aged couple arguing loudly about who forgot to tie down the lawn chairs the last time they stopped, a somewhat familiar-looking man in a cowboy hat unloading a piece of equipment from his huge red truck while another long-haired man filmed him, a woman with dreadlocks fiddling with a remote control only for a large drone to drop out of the sky a moment later and land at her feet, a few children racing towards the diner with their exasperated mother trailing behind yelling at them to watch where they were going. 

It was utter chaos and you loved it already. 

As you approached the vehicles, you saw the Storm PAR logos printed on the sides and breathed a sigh of relief that after this sixth bus stop, you had finally tracked them down. You still didn’t see who you were looking for, so you walked up to a man with dark curly hair wearing a white button-down Storm PAR shirt who was currently crouched down examining a weird solar panel-looking piece of equipment set up next to one of the vans. As you cleared your throat, he looked up from the machine and blinked, as if he was shocked to see someone standing there despite the crowds of people around him. Glancing around, he asked, “Um…can I help you?”

You guess you shouldn’t be too surprised by his reaction. In your cut-off shorts, boots, and halter top, you looked like you should be hanging out one of the trucks you passed when you first got off the bus, not the polished, company polo shirt-wearing tech heads milling around the Storm PAR vehicles. And you didn’t even want to know what your hair and makeup looked like after four hours on that poorly air-conditioned packed bus. 

So, instead of taking offense at this guy’s slightly dismissive tone, you smiled as you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Hi. I’m looking for Scott.”

The man glanced over his shoulder but made no move to stand up. “He’s here but he’s in the middle of some data calculations. Can I help you with something?”

“Not really. I had time off college and he mentioned you guys were having a really active season so I figured why not come out and see all this in action.” The man was still looking at you like he couldn’t understand why you were talking to him and you suddenly realized you hadn’t explained the most important detail. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I should have mentioned, Scotty’s my older brother.”

Instantly, the man’s demeanor shifted and a huge toothy smile spread across his face. “Oh! You should have led with that. Nice to meet you.”

Rising to his feet, he stuck out his hand and you shook it, officially introducing yourself. When he said his name was Javi Rivera and it was your turn for things to click into place. “Javi! You’re Scotty’s business partner, right? He’s told me about you.”

Javi let your hand drop and his eyes shifted towards his equipment once more. “Really? Well, um, you know, I’ve, uh, heard great things about you too.”

You grinned, grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “Scotty never even mentioned he had a sister, did he?” Javi gave a slight shrug, still not looking directly at you and you laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Never wants to get personal, everything’s about business with him. To be honest, I don’t see or hear from him that much which is just another reason I figured I’d come surprise him when I had the chance. Plus, I read some research Scotty left lying around last time he came home and it was really interesting. I’m excited to be able to see what you guys do firsthand.” 

“Well, I’m sure Scotty will be glad to see you. Let me go grab him.”

Javi turned and disappeared into one of the vans. A moment later, he returned with your brother following closely behind. “Javi, I was in the middle of some important calculations. Why did I have to–” Scott stumbled to a stop as he saw you standing there.

Since he was a teenager, Scott had mastered the art of keeping his emotions hidden. He could be fuming mad, joyously happy, or heartbrokenly sad, and in each case keep the same perfect mask on his face. However, you knew his one tell. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his eyes. And right now, you could practically see flames burning within them. 

For the first time, you wondered if coming to see him had been such a good idea. Shifting from one foot to the other, you tried to force a smile as you half-heartedly held out your arms. “Surprise.”

Scott remained rooted to the spot, his only movement the constant forceful chewing of his gum. Javi glanced back and forth between the two of you, the smile slowly draining from his face. Hesitantly, he explained, “She said she was your sister so I figured…”

A cultivated smile spread across Scott’s lips but it didn’t reach his eyes as they continued to burn into yours. “No, it’s all good. I’m just surprised to see her.” Without breaking eye contact, he held his tablet out to Javi who took it from him. “Give me a few minutes to talk to her and then I’ll get back to those numbers.”

Javi started to protest, assuring him there was no rush and he could take his time, but Scott had already closed the distance between you. Grabbing your arm tightly to the point of slight painfulness, he guided you past the rest of the Storm PAR vehicles and into the empty field. 

Once you were far enough away that you knew none of his co-workers could hear you, you wrenched your arm from his grasp, snapping, “Get off of me!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his mask finally slipping as his nostrils flared and lips curled into a snarl.

“Well, hello to you too!” You examined your arm where he had grabbed you, massaging it gently. “Can’t a girl come visit her big brother?”

“Not when she wasn’t invited or even asked if she could come beforehand! What were you thinking? This isn’t one of your wild party vacations. This is my job!”

“I know that. I wasn’t expecting you to drop everything and take me sightseeing. I just thought I could hang around and watch you guys in action. I’ve read some of the research you left at Christmas and I was hoping maybe I could learn a little more about it.”

Scott shook his head, his hands on his hips. “This is our busiest time of the season. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“What do you think I am? Eight? I don’t need you to babysit me. I told you, I’m interested in what you do and thought I could just hang around and see how it all works.” You shrugged, “Maybe you could even take me on a chase or two.”

“Hell no. I won’t have you getting scared and causing us to have to turn around in the middle of a storm run. Javi and I have worked too hard to get this company to where it is and I’m not going to let you ruin that because, on a whim, you thought it would be fun to see a storm.” Scott scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “It’s so typical of you to still think that just because you want something or because Mom and Dad will pay for it, everyone else will bend over backward to accommodate you. Well, I don’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore.”

You took several deep breaths and tried to keep your anger in check. This was not at all how you thought this would go, but lashing out right now would only make things worse. So, in a calm, steady voice, you tried to shift approaches. “Scotty, we haven’t spent any real time together since you left for MIT. And back then…I’m not proud of the person I was and I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. But I was a kid who didn’t know any better! I’ve grown up since you left. And this trip isn’t just something I thought would be fun to do ‘on a whim’. I worked hard to save up the money to come here because I wanted to see you and spend time with you—however little time you may be able to work into your schedule. And I promise I won’t get scared or make you stop your chase. If I don’t like it, I’ll suck it up until it’s over then not ask to go again.” Taking a step forward, you gently placed your hand on his arm and gave him a timid smile. “Let me show you who I am now…how much I’ve changed. Please, Scotty.”

But Scott yanked his arm away and took a step back. “I don’t care where you go, but you need to stay away from me and Storm PAR. Now, I have work to do.” He took one last look at you, and, for just a moment, you thought maybe he felt bad for what he said and was reconsidering things. But then, he blew a small bubble with his gum and popped it loudly in your face. You jumped slightly, the sound sharp and startling, before glaring at him. He had been doing that since you were kids and he knew how much you absolutely despised it. Shooting you one last smug smirk, Scott turned and walked off towards the cluster of Storm PAR vehicles. 

You turned to look out into the open field, lip quivering, as you fought against the tears that were burning your eyes. Things between you and Scott had been pretty bad when he left for college, but you hadn’t realized he still really thought so poorly of you. The last few holidays or family events he had been forced to come to, things seemed to be getting a little better. You thought that maybe you had reached a turning point in your relationship. But now it was clear you had been very wrong.

Looking back at the diner and overflow of vehicles, you wondered what you should do now. You had no idea when the next bus came by or how to get a ticket home or if there was a motel nearby you could stay in for the night or how you would even get there if there was or what you would do in the morning or—

UGH! The longer you stared at the Storm PAR logo on the side of the van Scott had disappeared into, the less hurt you felt. Instead, the pain began to shift into outrage. How dare Scott treat you like this? You had spent a lot of money and wasted two weeks of your summer vacation to take this trip to see him. You knew it would involve listening to him drone on about numbers and graphs you could barely comprehend for most of the time, but you were willing to smile, nod, and seem interested to show you cared about what he did. But no! He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself or prove that you weren’t here to interfere with his work. He had just torn you down before turning his back on you and walking away. That asshole!

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky and you realized standing here fuming about Scott wasn’t going to help your situation. You could do that once you found a bus schedule or a place to stay for the night. However, as you stormed back through the parking lot, something caught your eye. 

When you had come through the first time and passed the familiar-looking man and the long-haired guy with the camera, you had only seen their truck from behind. But now that you were looking at the front, you noticed the distinctive metal logo attached to the front of the truck’s grille: a tornado with horns jutting out the top of the vortex. And you realized why the man in the cowboy hat looked familiar. 

Scott might not talk to you very often, but during the instances that he had, you had heard plenty of complaints about Tyler Owens and his group of Tornado Wranglers. Everything they did was the complete opposite of how Storm PAR operated and it drove Scott crazy that while he was out there doing the “real work”, this group of amateur YouTube chasers were the ones getting all the attention and acclaim when all they were really doing was getting in Storm PAR’s way. 

And Scott seemed to have another level of hatred for Owens himself.    

Out of curiosity, you had looked up the Wranglers’ YouTube channel and found it pretty entertaining. While Scott viewed every aspect of his work with complete seriousness and professionalism, these guys tackled the same work like they were having the time of their lives. They were still informative, explaining to their viewers how tornadoes formed and the types of destruction they can cause, but they would then drive straight into the center of a funnel or take chat requests of crazy things to do in the storm. It honestly seemed like a great way to get people excited about learning about tornadoes while also keeping them entertained. And it seemed like their nearly 850,000 followers would agree. No wonder Scott hated them so much. 

Suddenly, you had an idea—the perfect little act of revenge.

Changing directions, you made your way over to Owens’s truck. You could see he was now alone, tinkering with the equipment attached to the bed of his truck. He had traded his white cowboy hat for a faded backward cap and had pushed his sleeves up above his elbows as he worked, his sun-bronzed skin on full display in the dying light.

Though you had only watched a handful of the Tornado Wranglers’ videos, you had a pretty good idea of the kind of man Tyler Owens was and how you could persuade him to help you. After all, these narcissistic, jacked-up truck-driving, overcompensating pretty boys were all the same. The kind who had been fawned and swooned over their entire adult lives just because they flashed a charming smile or a playful wink in the right direction. However, with just a little stroking of their ego or a bat of your eyes, they could become putty in your hands. All you had to do was introduce yourself.

Reaching the side of the truck, you tucked your hands into your back pockets so it thrust your chest forward and, biting your lip, called out coyly, “Hey there, cowboy.”

Owens glanced up, a curious smile curling across his lips as he saw you, his eyes traveling from your head to boot and back up. “Well, hello there.”

Giggling softly as you placed your hand on the side railing, you asked in a sing-songy voice, “You’re Tyler, right? The big...bad…tornado wrangler?” With each word, you walked your fingers across the railing, your eyes locked on his.

He leaned back, wiped his hands on his jeans, and said, “I might be. Depends on who’s asking.” He was still looking at you but his smile had slipped slightly and you realized you might not have grabbed his attention as well as you thought.

Placing both hands on the railing now, you pushed yourself up slightly, your chest pressed together, and you looked up at him from under your lashes. “What if I’m asking?”

Owens stared at you for a long moment, his eyes still examining you thoughtfully, though you were shocked to see they stayed locked on your face and didn’t dip down to your breast like you had expected. Then, finally, he said, “You seem like a nice girl, sweetheart, but I don't think I'm what you're looking for. Good luck though.” He gave you a kind, yet dismissive nod, and went back to whatever he had been working on.

Your jaw dropped, lips moving silently as you tried to figure out what just happened. This kind of thing always worked on guys like him in the past. Show a little skin, stroke their egos a little, and they would be wrapped around your finger in no time. But he hadn’t even given your act more than a passing glance. It was possible you weren’t his type or maybe he was in a committed relationship, but neither of those things had exactly deterred guys in the past. 

You turned around—properly dismissed—and were just about to walk away when another thought crossed your mind. What if…what if you had misjudged him? What if he wasn’t the kind of guy you assumed he was? From what you had seen in his videos, he was cocky and overconfident and a huge flirt, but what if that was all for the cameras? During your very brief interaction, he seemed polite and respectful even as you tried to throw yourself at him, something no other guy had ever done in that situation. 

Maybe you had gone about this all wrong. Maybe you needed a different approach. A more honest one…

You hurried around the other side of the truck so you were in front of him once more. Dropping all the over-the-top flirtatiousness from your voice, you said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought…it doesn’t matter what I thought, but the point is I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had a really shitty day and approached this situation all wrong.”

Owens didn’t raise his head, but his eyes drifted back in your direction. Feeling like he was offering you a chance, you explained, “Listen, the deal is I came here to surprise my brother with a visit, and as soon as he saw me, he told me he doesn’t want me here and I should fuck off out of his way.”

That got his attention. Looking up, his brow furrowed, Owens asked, “Your brother said that to you?”

You rolled your eyes and hit the heel of your palm against the side of the truck. “Well, not in those exact words but the sentiment was there. The point is, he told me he didn’t care where I went as long as I left him and his team alone. So, I plan on respecting his wishes…and wondered if I could hang out with your team instead.”

“Well–” He leaned back, clearly not interested in your request, but you cut him off before he could turn you down.

“Please! It’ll just be for a day or two. I promise not to get in the way or mess with any of your work. I just know he has a problem with you guys and seeing me with you will drive him insane.” 

Putting down the wrench he was holding, Owens shook his head. “Back up…who are we talking about now? Who’s your brother?”

You realized you needed to get better at introducing people into a conversation before jumping right in. “Scott? He works for Storm PAR?” He hesitated so you sighed and turned towards the other group of storm chasers at the other end of the lot. With one hand on your hip, you pointed lazily with the other, “The surly tall one who never takes off his stupid baseball cap?”

Instantly, Owens straightened up and you knew you had piqued his interest. Chuckling, he asked, “Wait, so you’re telling me Mr. Clipboard and Chewing Gum is your brother?” You nodded. “And you want my help messing with him?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, will you do it?”

The cowboy leaned over the side of the truck and gave you a wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve come to the right place.”

Part 2 coming 8/19!

[loucifersbitch]

JULES MY BELOVED CONGRATULATIONS ON THE MILESTONE!!!

Can I have Bucktommy + marriage proposal please and thank you!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

uhh so this got away from me a bit 😅 i hope it's okay!

Tommy had barely walked through the bay doors of the 118 when he was accosted by Eddie and Howie.

"Uhh, hey guys. What's up?"

"How's it going, Tommy?" Howie asked, steering him toward the far loft stairs in a maneuver about as subtle as a Halligan to the face.

"Yeah, man, how you been?" Eddie added, his tone of voice just slightly too high.

Feeling more suspicious by the second, Tommy answered, "Um, fine? What's going on? Where's Evan? He left me a message to meet him here at the end of my shift."

"He's upstairs," Bobby said from the side door as he walked in behind them, joining their seemingly-growing posse.

"Oh-kay?" he said, now even more confused.

He began to climb the stairs up to the loft and spotted Hen at the top, shaking her head fondly. Tommy looked over his shoulder to see the three men following him up the stairs like giddy ducklings.

When he reached the landing, he quietly asked Hen, "What the hell is going on?"

"You'll see," she smiled, her eyes sparkling with whatever secret they were all barely keeping contained.

"Great," he breathed. Making his way past the sitting area, he finally spotted Evan near the kitchen. "Evan, what's -?" he stopped short.

"Hey, Tommy," he said softly, his face lighting up as it always did when Tommy arrived. However, there were a few differences in Evan's appearance that Tommy hadn't expected. His hair was curly as ever, if slightly more tame, and instead of his work uniform, he was in a suit. It was clearly new, a light gray that fit every inch of him perfectly, the burnt orange tie and pocket square bringing out the blue of his eyes.

As he took in more of his surroundings, he noticed the matching burnt orange decor around the firehouse loft and the flowers placed here and there.

"Ev, what is all this?" he asked as Evan continued walking toward him with determination.

Evan bit his lip, then began, "For most of my life, I've been searching for something. It felt like some part of me was missing or locked away, and I couldn't figure out what it was. I traveled all across the country - even went down to Peru - before ending up here. I felt at home here, and I built a family," he paused to look at the group standing silently behind them, far enough away to give them a little privacy. "I thought I had everything I needed, and yet I still didn't feel settled. I wasn't at ease. But then," he grabbed Tommy's hand in his own, "some lunatic with a pilot's license flew into a hurricane to help save my family. And even when it was over, I couldn't stop thinking about him." Tommy felt his cheeks color remembering their early days. "It was a bit of a rocky start," Evan chuckled, "but he gave me a second chance. And then a third. And he just kept giving me chances. He never gave up on me, even when I thought for sure I'd finally chased him away. He stayed. He showed up." Evan took a breath, licked his lips, and continued, "You always show up for me, Tommy. Whenever I need, whatever I need, you're there. Every single day you show me what it means to be cared for and loved unconditionally. You opened my eyes to that thing I'd been searching for. I'm finally settled. So," he said, easily dropping down to one knee and pulling a velvet box from the inside pocket of his jacket, "Tommy -"

"Evan," Tommy's voice broke as he took a shaky breath.

"Tommy," Evan pressed on, smiling, "will you marry me?"

Tommy was nodding before Evan had even finished the question. He let out a wet laugh, then said, "Yeah. Yes, Evan. I'll marry you."

Evan stood up to pull him into a kiss, neither of them able to stop smiling long enough to kiss properly. A whoop followed by whistling and clapping started up behind them, and they broke apart to laugh at the absurdity. They turned to look at everyone - Evan's family, their family - and were immediately enveloped in a group hug. Hen stood back for a moment, typing something on her phone before pocketing it and joining the rest of them.

"Sent the video to everyone else," she explained. "Maddie said she'd kill me and Chim and probably Buck if she didn't get to see it right away."

"I'm pretty sure that was a promise," Howie added.

Bobby nodded and said, "Athena also threatened bodily harm to anyone who kept it from her."

"So where's the ring?" Eddie asked.

"The - oh, right!" Evan said, still clutching the box in his hand. He opened it, revealing a black band with a gold inlay. "It's tungsten," he explained, slipping it out of the box and onto Tommy's ring finger. "It's durable, but we'll need to get silicone rings for on the job."

"Evan, it's beautiful," Tommy said, holding his hand up to see how the gold glinted in the light.

Eddie cleared his throat, and Evan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I had some help," he admitted, and Eddie gave a ridiculous bow.

"Thank you," Tommy said, turning to Evan and kissing him properly, everyone else backing away.

"Alright, that's enough man love for one day," Hen said. "No offense boys, but I'm going to go home and kiss my wife."

Before she could get too far, Tommy pulled her into a crushing hug. "Thank you," he said sincerely. If it hadn't been for Hen's gut instinct that something was wrong during the hurricane, he probably never would've met Evan.

"Be good to him," she said, squeezing back, "or I'll revoke your movie night privileges."

"You wouldn't!" he said, aghast.

She only raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that said she was serious.

As soon as she left his embrace for Evan's, Howie grabbed him, forcing a quiet oof out of his lungs.

"Welcome to the family, brother-in-law," he said. "Jee wants to do your nails for the wedding, by the way."

Tommy laughed, "I think that's fair since her dad is the reason I'm alive. Plus she's the only one I trust to do it right."

"Deal." Howie patted him once more on the back before following Hen down to the locker room.

Bobby shook his hand and pulled him into a hug. "I'm not going to tell you to take care of him because I already know you will. But make sure he takes care of you, too, okay? Be good to each other."

"Of course."

~***~

Later that evening as they were getting ready for bed, Tommy couldn't help staring at his left hand.

"Do you want an engagement ring, too?" he asked as Evan crawled in next to him. "Doesn't seem right if I have one but you don't."

"Sure," Evan said with a yawn. "We can go look tomorrow, okay? Or whenever. No rush."

"Yeah, no rush," Tommy said, pulling Evan close and kissing the top of his head.

[lnfours]

🍊 -  “happy new year.” “should we kiss?” “what?” “what?” and they really kiss 😔🙏🏻

i’ve been WAITING FOR THIS ONE! TURN IT UP!

11.8k friends to lovers sleepover

the clock was slowly ticking down to midnight, everyone in the club anxiously waiting to ring in the new year. you were on the dance floor with your friends, laughing and having a good time. and totally unaware to your best friends longing gaze from the dj booth on stage.

the two of you have been in a ‘will we, won’t we’ we stage for a while. the pining for the other being so blatantly obvious, but neither of you spoke about it. you were too worried. scared of losing the one person you really cared about.

you hadn’t noticed that he had come down until there was an arm wrapped around your shoulder. you turned to face him, smiling softly when you met his eyes, “finally decided to join the party?”

“trust me, it’s a lot more fun up there.”

“yeah but we’re not up there!” pietra argued, “y/n, we still have to find you your new years kiss! we only have a couple minutes!”

you hummed, nodding her way. you hadn’t really thought about it if you were being honest, uninterested in kissing some random stranger who probably would end up asking you to his hotel room.

meanwhile, lando’s blood boiled at the thought of having to watch you kiss some random guy. before he could blink, you were pulled away from him by pietra. max smirked, watching his girlfriend drag you away as you sent a look that said ‘save me’ to lando.

“when’re you gonna tell her?”

the brit looked at his best friend, eyebrows furrowed, “tell her what?”

“that you’re madly in love with her.”

lando huffed, crossing his arms as his eyes still managed to find you in the crowd. his silence made his best friend speak again.

“you wanna live another year where you’re regretting not telling her?”

lando chewed on his bottom lip, knowing the man standing next to him was right, “what do i do?”

“go tell her,” he said, pushing his back towards where you had found yourself in a group with pietra, “before some random guy does.”

lando nodded, taking in a deep breath. his thoughts cut off as everyone in the club yelled, “happy new year!”

he knew it was his mission now, speed walking towards you before it was too late. after uttering ‘excuse me’s and ‘pardon me’s, he finally made his way to you. you stood there, smiling with pietra and laughing as confetti fell from the sky.

you saw him out of the corner of your eye, smiling at him as he approached you, “lan! happy new year!”

“happy new year,” he breathed, “didn’t find your kiss?”

you shook your head, “nah, figured i’d do what i always do, watch happy couples celebrate.”

“should we kiss?” the words tumbled out of his mouth as his eyes widened, yours following pursuit.

“what?”

“what?”

you blinked at the curly haired man in front of you, eyes dancing around his face. you had heard him, but the bluntness was what took you off guard.

you shook your head, reaching out to grab him by his shirt and pull him closer, “fuck this,”

your smashed your lips against his, his hands immediately finding your waist as he kissed you back. your hands wrapping around his neck as he deepened it, one hand coming to cup your cheek.

you pulled away after what felt like ages, foreheads resting against each other as you smiled. he smiled back, thumb rubbing against the soft skin under his finger.

“wanna get out of here?”

you nodded, “please.”

[lucijawriteswords]

locker room | luke hughes

summary: you find an angry luke in the locker room after a loss and figure out exactly how to help him.

warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT. oral (m receiving), swearing, slightly angry luke, whimpering, begging if you look hard enough. a little fluff. poor rutger gets caught in the crossfire. pretty tame (just wait for my next one. it’s on its way.) not edited, i’m impatient

word count: 2.5k

A/N: hello! welcome to my new venture. i’ve not written anything like this before so please, give me some grace- and feedback, if you’d like. tell me how you feel, who you want me to write about, what you want me to write about. with that, let’s get into it, shall we?

18+ below the cut

you heard laughs echoing from the press stand where the opposing team was giving post game interviews. you scoffed as you strode by, muttering to yourself. absolute ref show.

the path to the locker room was second nature to you, ingrained in your head, as familiar as your own bed. you’d been there enough times. familiar faces passed you as players quickly headed out, a few gracing you with a look, even fewer with a smile. you smiled back at those who did. one caught your arm, a freshman who’s name you hadn’t learned yet, right as you were about to turn the final corner, and gave you a warning glance. “he’s really upset, y/n. really upset. just thought i’d warn you. i’m not sure if he’s sad upset or mad upset but regardless i figured i’d let you know.”

you knew this. you knew it the second the buzzer screeched at the end of the third and luke stormed off the bench, shaking his head. you knew when you heard a loud snap and then the angry voice of an equipment manager, scolding luke about breaking a stick.

you knew luke.

“thanks, kid.” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. you reached up to gently pat his shoulder; friendly, comforting. “hey, don’t do that. you played amazing. the refs were horrid.”

he nodded, releasing your arm and bringing his hand up to wipe under his nose, followed by a loud sniffle. at the same time, you heard a scoff echo from around the corner and turned your head to find a brown, curly head and a bare shoulder disappearing back through the locker room door.

the freshman- who’s name you still couldn’t remember- looked at you, panicked. you just huffed out a sigh and drew your hand away from his shoulder. “oh, goodie.”

“i- y/n, he’s gonna think- shit,” he breathed out, letting his head drop backwards.

“hey, whatever he thinks doesn’t mean shit because it’s not true. he’s upset anyways and now he’s gonna spiral cause he thinks i’m messing with his freshman teammate. so, good game, honestly, but i’m gonna go figure out that situation before it’s too late.” you rushed out, pointing towards where luke’s head had disappeared to.

the freshman- you really had to learn his name- nodded and muttered a tiny ‘bye’ before making his way down the rest of the hall. you offered a quick wave as you stepped around the corner and pushed the door to the locker room open.

upon your immediate surveillance, there was no luke. but, you heard water streaming against tile, and the showers don’t shut off or turn on automatically, so that means that someone turned it on and was still in there. you did a quick second scan of the stalls, and upon seeing that everyone’s jerseys were hung up, bags folded, and there were no shoes resting underneath a stall- except luke’s- decided that it must be, could only be, luke in the shower.

“luke?” you called, making your way across the maize and blue carpeting.

“in here,” he answered, voice clipped. impatient. upset.

“can i come in?”

“yeah, i don’t care. ‘less you have rut with you, in which case, stay out there.”

“rut?” who the hell names their child rut?

“rutger, honey. my replacement, apparently.”

you surmised that rutger must be the freshman, and decided that yes, rutger was a name you’d have a hard time remembering.

“baby, he’s not your replacement. we were just talking.” the water shut off as you were talking and you heard bare feet slapping against the wet tile, followed by a low ‘fuck.’

“why are you swearing, lu?” you wondered, taking another stop towards the showers.

“forgot my towel. would you grab it for me? it’s hanging in my stall.”

you chuckled, walking back towards his stall and grabbing the towel. it was rough, pilled. threadbare on one end. “ew. gotta get you a new towel, babe.” you giggled, sticking your finger through a hole in the corner and turning, wiggling it at him.

“can you just bring it over here you weirdo?” he grumbled, but a small smile graced his lips as he poked his head around the wall.

“can i explain?”

“honey, i’m soaking wet. can it wait?” still upset, then.

“no.”

“go, then.” he bit out, exasperated, angrily gesturing at you to explain. you made a face at him before speaking.

“he was just warning me that you were upset, lu. i was thanking him and he looked sad so i told him he played well and that it was a ref show, ‘kay? just talking.” you finished, tossing the towel to him. his head disappeared behind the wall briefly before he made his way fully out, towel wrapped around his hips.

“alright. just don’t want him getting any ideas.”

“wait, lu, doesn’t he have a girlfriend? i swear, one of the freshmen this year has a girlfriend.” you thought out loud, following him towards his stall before plopping yourself onto the ground, electing to sit rather than stand as he got dry and dressed.

“oh. yeah.”

you laughed without humor, watching his back flex as he undid and redid the towel around his waist.

“glad i got you that shitty towel. didn’t feel like getting dripped all over, if i’m being honest.” you said, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

luke froze, turning his head with a devilish smile on his lips. your playful expression dropped as he turned all the way around, water slowly trailing down the planes of his chest. you gulped.

“lu, don’t even think about it- LUKE!” you started, trying to get up, but it was to no avail, because in a split second he was standing over you, shaking his head like a dog, sending water all over you- and the rest of the locker room, for that matter. “you little shit!” you screeched, holding your hands up to your face, the water splattering unceremoniously on you.

you heard his hoarse laugh as he finished tormenting you, turning back to his stall and pulling a sweatshirt over his body. you heard the rustling of fabric as he reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. your hands still covered your face, trying to be prepared if your child of a boyfriend got a second wind, but by the wet thump of the towel against the ground, you assumed he’d pulled the sweatpants on.

“i’m not gonna splash you again, baby. you can move your hands.” luke said, his voice calmer than it was a few minutes ago.

“why aren’t you putting your suit back on?” you asked, taking in his outfit.

“not going out the front, so nobody’s gonna see. just gonna go out the back, s’where i parked anyways.” he spoke towards the ground, pulling on socks and slipping his feet into a worn pair of birkenstocks.

“nobody’s even here anymore,” you added absentmindedly, looking down at your apple watch. 11:37. “it’s late.”

“yeah, honey, i know. you got a date with rutger at 11:45 or something?” he mumbled, the sass making its way back into his voice at in response to your apparently stupid statement.

“oh well, pardon me, mr. perfect. wasn’t sure if you were too busy being mad at me for talking to someone to look at your watch. oh, boy, am i excited to walk to the car, freezing and wet with your mopey ass.” you cut out, voice raising at the end, having had enough of him. “i get that you’re upset about losing but come on, luke. he’s got a girlfriend, he’s younger than me, and i would never do that to you.”

“oh, so you admit that i was right for thinking that? you’re defending yourself pretty heavily, y/n, i dunno. you sure he’s not waiting for you?” he whipped around. there was no more playfulness.

“you’re kidding, right?” you returned, voice emotionless.

he simply shrugged, nostrils flared slightly, anger written all over him. tense shoulders, arms crossed. wide stance.

“god, luke, you’re such a child sometimes.”

“oh, i’m a child for being protective over my girlfriend, but it’s fine for you to get all up on him and touch his arm? fucking double standard if you ask me.” he was harsh, accusatory.

your mouth dropped, incredulous at his words, but more so his tone. “don’t you fucking DARE talk to me like that. once you’re thinking straight and decide to not be an asshole, text me. i’m gonna go to my dorm tonight.”

you shook your head, pulling your phone out of your pocket and clicking into snapchat, swiping into your roommate’s chat, starting to type a message to her to ask her to pick you up, but you felt a hand close around your arm, spinning you back. you were ready to fire off more words but said words were nipped in the bud as you felt luke’s mouth on yours, hot and heavy. any anger you had took a backseat as you felt his tongue on yours, his hands finding their place on your hips, pulling you into him.

he kissed you desperately, hard enough to almost hurt. you moaned when he bit lightly on your lip, sticking the tip of your tongue out to flick his upper lip. a type of retribution. something between a moan and a growl clawed it’s way from his throat, angry and ready to be released.

you pulled away, shoving him firmly backwards by the chest. his eyes were apologetic and he looked like her was about to say something but you quieted him by pushing him down into the bench in front of his stall. “talk later,” you muttered, kneeling in front of him.

“baby, i was mean to you, you don’t have to-” he cut himself off as you undid his sweatpants and pulled him out, felt him heavy in your hand. you pulled slow, languid strokes over his cock, relished the way his head tipped back, the way his adams apple bobbed, the way he whimpered when your thumb ghosted over his angry tip. you grinned at the noise, deciding to tease him even more. his breath caught in his throat, a wet, choked, noise, as you dragged your tongue across his slit, letting your saliva mix with the precum that was gushing out of him. he looked down at you then, bringing a hand to the back of your head to gather your hair. “don’t tease me, baby. can’t take it.”

“gotta ask nice, pretty boy.”

“please, y/n. i need your mouth, i need to feel you on my cock, please.”

a wicked grin carved itself onto your face as you spat into your hand and gave him three long, hard strokes from the base. “all you had to do was ask, lu.” you purred, taking him into your mouth, moaning around him at the taste, the weight, the relief of feeling him in your mouth, on you tongue.

you heard his head thump against the wood of the stall, his breathing ragged as your moan vibrated around him. you felt him twitch in your mouth as you pressed your tongue flat against the underside of his dick and swallowed around him, curses falling from his lips.

“god, y/n, not gonna last. take me so good, baby,” he cut out, voice strained as he bucked into your mouth, hips and words stuttering in some sort of fucked up prayer to your mouth.

you smiled as much as you could with a mouth full of dick, moaning around him to try to get him there faster. his fist tightened in your hair and a whine escaped your lips, buzzing on his cock.

you looked up at him through your lashes, saw the flush on his neck making his way up to his cheeks, pride in the fact that you made him like that, that you could have him like this. that you could reduce him to a moaning, whimpering mess with only your mouth. you moaned at the mere thought, feeling him swell in your mouth.

you tapped his thigh twice, knowing he was getting close. his eyes met yours, hazy and hooded and drowning in lust, in you. you nodded, wanting, needing to see him when he finished.

his chest heaved, eyes trained on you as you worked him, bobbing up and down his cock, spit coating him at the base.

“fuck, y/n, look so pretty like this. so pretty, baby.” he whimpered, impossibly close. you moaned around him, long and loud, wanting to taste him. “so close, baby, so close.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself, before pushing your head down further, feeling his head hit the back of your throat, your nose pressing into the soft skin of his pelvis, feeling him tense under you. a long, drawn out call of your name left his lips as you swallowed around him, trying not to choke.

“fuck, gonna cum,” he whispered, lightly pushing his hips into your mouth, thighs shaking as he finally let go, warmth filling your mouth, his cock jumping wildly. you moaned, tasting him, feeling his hot cum coat your tongue and throat, swallowing it down as much as you could with his dick still in your mouth. he hissed, pulling your head off, overstimulated. you swallowed again, not wanting to miss a drop, settling back onto your knees, looking at him trying to collect himself.

“you still mad?” you quipped, cocking your head. he rolled his eyes at you, still trying to catch his breath as he tucked himself back into his pants. “gonna take that as a no,” you answered yourself, pushing yourself up, brushing your hands over your knees, feeling the imprint of the carpet and your jeans on the skin.

he stood up, gathering you into his arms and pulling your head into his chest. you nestled your head there, arms draping lazily around his waist, leaning all your weight onto him, the lateness of this rendezvous catching up with you. you smiled into the softness of his hoodie. “i’m sorry, babe. just get jealous, you know how i am.”

“i know, lukey. it’s okay. but you know i would never do that to you, to us, so i got defensive.”

he pressed a quick kiss into your hair, muttering an ‘i know,’ tapping your butt lightly so you would jump. you did so, weakly wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging to him lightly, knowing he had you. you rested your head on his shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the column of his throat. “can we go home? i’m tired.”

he smiled, readjusting you so he could grab his keys from the hook in his stall. “‘course we can, baby.” he kissed the side of your face, and you felt the smile still gracing his lips.

[pastrymechanic]

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘༘ florida wind + troubles

➯ y/n is at a race where she runs into a high school memory she’d like to forget. thankfully ollie comes to her rescue.

➯ very fearful to post my first little writing but i tried my darndest so enjoy or not. constructive criticism is welcome 🌷

➯ warnings: high school bullies but hey we got ollie standing up for y/n!!

the rosso corsa sundress billowed in the soft yet humid miami wind. the peace of being back in beachy paradise felt like she was almost floating on a cloud while she flowed through the familiar paddock, speaking to fans and collecting gifts for ollie.

her sunglasses were pushed up to her head as she slid friendship bracelets onto her wrist, taking photos with fans while simultaneously collecting letters and plushies for her boyfriend. after it seemed most of the fans had been noticed and all important gifts had been placed carefully in her beige tote bag she began the walk back to the ferrari motorhome, passing the jet black mercedes garage as she goes. 

she doesn’t think twice as she passes other paddock goers, walking by two girls waiting near the mercedes motorhome until a familiar italian face pops his head out waving to the girl skipping along her way through the floridan paddock. a simple wave and smile to kimi is given before she continues on until a hand grabs her freckled arm and her journey back is cut short.

a quick squeal and she jumps back, heart thumping through her chest as the sunglasses previously rested atop her head, fall to the sidewalk and she meets the eyes of who stopped her. it felt as if every single high school memory flooded back to her in a second. the insults, the rude looks, the violence for a girl she’d tried to forget.

“y/n? long time no see, finally got to a race, i see.” the girl’s arms crossed over the sky blue dress, one y/n adored with its contrast against the hateful girl’s tan skin. 

“oh, yeah. you know my boyfriend got me paddock passes.” she let out an awkward laugh, twisting the ends of her sunglasses in her hands, desperately trying get this conversation to end faster. why years later did she have to run into her old high school “friend”?

“oh? where is he?” the girl stood behind her blast from the past asked, a matching dress in moss green adorning her body as she smirked at the memory of a girl.

“oh he’s just waiting for me in uhm, ferrari.” she spoke vaguely, trying desperately not to let them in on her private life even more than she already had.

“you don’t have to lie to us, y/n. it’s okay if momma bought the tickets for you.” the girl faked a frown. while y/n let out a deep breath, currently hoping and praying anyone would come pull her away, unfortunately the small curly headed mercedes driver seemed to disappear after a quick greeting from his close friend’s girlfriend.

“listen, i just want to enjoy my day with my boyfriend.” y/n tried to brush off the conversation, gently as the people pleaser she always was and will be.

“oh shut up like you actually have a boyfriend. give it up, if i don’t have one right now then you certainly can’t.” her old friend groaned, her hands dropping down to her sides in exasperation. almost as if she genuinely didn’t believe the girl stood before he once again, but who was she kidding she most definitely didn’t believe y/n.

just as she felt as though it would never end a hand snaked around her waist and the familiar british accent spoke beside her.

“hello amore mio, i was waiting for you.” (my love) y/n could barely turn her head before ollie turned her head for her and gave her a sweet yet short peck she’d never get tired of. 

“oh uhm just got caught up.” she smiled at him, leaning on his shoulder as he looked towards the girls. after years he could read the girl before him like a book and obviously these people were a bother, he just couldn’t figure out how.

“oh? i’m oliver.” he nodded towards the two girls who seemed gobsmacked,  both rushing to speak to their old celebrity crush.

“oh my gosh ollie, i love you so much. i’m an old friend of y/n.” the previously harsh girl put her best smile on her face with a hand extended, promptly ignored by ollie.

“it’s oliver.” ollie corrected and y/n couldn’t help but let a small smile through at his sternness before he whisked her away back to ferrari, her dress twirling making her feel like a less woodsy, more motor oil version of giselle from enchanted.

“do you know i love you?” y/n looked up at the ferrari driver, a genuine smile shone up to him as he smiled back down, his happiness stemming from her sunshine smile.

“and i. love. you.” ollie fit a kiss between each word as they entered his driver’s room before she pulled away with a series of giggles.

“thanks for saving me from my high school bully.” her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes searched the briton’s face. her eyes filled with memories flashing through them, her mind only brought back to the present by ollie’s voice.

“you’re welcome love, it’s my offical duty as your lovely f1 driver boyfriend.” y/n gave a playful smack to his chest before rolling her eyes at his joking ego. with a small laugh she pulled him back into a hug so tight he thought he might loose his head to her  love before any crash into a barrier. after her hold loosened ollie pulled back with pure love in his eyes before sighing in contentment at the girl before him. her gorgeous eyes staring back at him with her hair slightly tangled from the florida wind. oh how he would protect her from everyone who troubled her. anytime, anywhere.