#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

[goldsainz]

# CS55 — WELCOME HOME !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ the f1 season has ended, which means carlos can finally relax with his family.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ none!

003. NOTE !

✯ dad fics are my comfort zone (and angst too) they’re so cute and fun to write, which means if you want to request them i’m gonna write them sooner rather than later 🙌

word count : 618

Carlos let out a heavy sigh as he stepped through the front door of your home in Monaco, exhaustion weighing on his shoulders.

The F1 season had finally ended. Another year of relentless travel, intense competition, and grueling races. He loved it, but right now, all he wanted was to be home. To be with you and your little boy.

Before he could even call out, the sound of tiny, fast-moving footsteps echoed through the house.

“¡Papá!” A little voice squealed.

He barely had time to brace himself before a blur of curly brown hair and chubby little arms crashed into his legs. He laughed, dropping his bags and scooping up his three-year-old son, Santiago—his Santi.

“Mi niño,” Carlos murmured, hugging him tightly. “You got even bigger while I was away, huh?”

Santi pulled back slightly, his face lit up with pure excitement. “Mamá said we have surprise for you!” he announced proudly.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, amused. “A surprise?”

That’s when you appeared in the doorway, arms crossed with a playful smile on your lips. “Welcome home, baby,” you said softly.

Carlos’ eyes softened instantly. “Cariño,”

You walked over, placing a hand on his cheek before pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “Come on,” you whispered against them. “Your welcome home treatment is waiting.”

Carlos let Santi down, who immediately grabbed his hand and started tugging him toward the living room. The first thing he noticed was the fort—pillows, blankets, and fairy lights all set up in a cozy little corner. Next to it was a tray with his favorite snacks, a bottle of wine, and a tiny juice box for Santi.

“Fort night!” Santi announced proudly, clapping his hands.

Carlos turned to you, grinning. “You built a fort?”

“Santi insisted,” you said with a shrug. “And I figured it was the best way to get you to actually rest.”

Carlos chuckled as he let himself be dragged to the couch. He sat down, pulling Santi onto his lap while you settled beside them, leaning against his side. It was warm, soft, and peaceful—the complete opposite to the chaos of an F1 season.

As Santi curled up against his chest, Carlos ran a gentle hand through his son’s hair, glancing down at him. “Did you take good care of Mamá while I was gone?”

Santi nodded seriously. “I helped cook! And I washed my hands a lot. And I gave Mamá hugs.”

Carlos shot you an amused look. “All very important responsibilities.”

“Very,” you agreed, laughing softly.

Santi suddenly sat up, his eyes wide. “Oh! Almost forgot!” He scrambled out of Carlos’s lap and waddled over to the little side table, grabbing a piece of paper before running back. “Me and Mamá made this.”

Carlos took the drawing from his tiny hands, his heart swelling as he looked at it. It was a messy but adorable crayon drawing of the three of you; Carlos in his red racing suit, you holding Santi’s hand, and a big yellow sun smiling in the sky.

“For you,” Santi said shyly.

Carlos felt a lump in his throat as he hugged Santi close, pressing a kiss to his curly hair. “This is the best gift ever, Santi. Thank you.”

Your son beamed, snuggling deeper into his arms.

You reached for Carlos’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I know how much you give all year long, amor,” you murmured. “So this weekend? No stress. No alarms. Just us taking care of you.”

Carlos exhaled deeply, feeling every last bit of exhaustion finally fade. He kissed your forehead before leaning back, Santi nestled against his chest, the soft glow of the fairy lights around you.

“Best off-season ever,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

[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.

[achilles-rage]

Is She Mine?

summary: when buck left pennsylvania, he unknowingly left you there, pregnant with his child. four years later he runs into you and your daughter at the grocery store.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another buck with a kid fic, another baby name from my baby name list used<3 if you don't like the name argue with the wall. someone gave me this idea months ago, but i can't find the ask, and i know birthmarks like that aren't hereditary or anything, but just pretend lol. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: barely edited (sorry), reader has a daughter (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Delia, come back here right now!” you whisper-yell down the grocery aisle, looking up right as you see your daughter disappear around the corner.

You’ve always been against kids on leashes, but lately, your three-year-old daughter has been single-handedly changing your opinion on them. You can’t take your eyes off of her for more than a couple of seconds before she’s gone; chasing after nothing in particular and probably talking to a random stranger or two along the way, if you know her at all.

You see flickers of her father in her; not merely in her appearance, but in who she is on the inside as well, and she’s never even met him. She’s extremely outgoing and talkative, and stubborn, and has a heart of gold. As much as you hate to see the painful glimmer of her father within her, it also makes you happy to think of your time with him.

You haven’t seen him since shortly after you realized you were pregnant. You were both in college in your home state, and when you took the pregnancy test, you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. You had ended up waiting too long, and when he told you that he was leaving to travel the world, you couldn’t stop him, as much as you wanted to.

You knew how miserable he was with his parents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin his dreams. You knew all he wanted to do was get out of Pennsylvania, and you didn’t want to force him to stay with you just because you had done something stupid. 

You abandon your cart in the middle of the aisle and race after her, haphazardly pulling your purse up your arm as your eyes frantically look around you for a glimpse of her hair, or her light blue shirt. Or was it purple? God, you really need to start taking pictures of her before you go out with her, you think to yourself as your heart hammers in your chest.

Finally, you hear her loud giggle, and you let out a relieved sigh, following the noise and finally setting your sight on her curly hair and her blue shirt. Good to know you were right about that, at least.

“De, what are you doing? You can’t run away from m-” your words catch in your throat as you see that she’s talking to a man who’s bent down to her level and smiling fondly at her. 

When he turns and locks eyes with you, the smile drops from his face, and he stands up straight as his eyes travel down your body. His breath has been ripped from his lungs as he watches you pick up the little girl and set her on your hip, but before either of you can speak, your daughter squeals excitedly in your ear.

“Mommy, he’s got dots, too!” Her tiny hand shoots out toward his eyebrow, pointing at the birthmark above his eye, and you nod slowly, eyes still focused on Buck. Your sweet girl is completely oblivious to the tension between you and Buck; all she can focus on is that this random man at the grocery store has the exact same birthmark as her.

“Buck,” you breathe in disbelief, watching as the realization dawns on him. He knows exactly what he just heard. Mommy. And unless he’s suddenly extremely bad at math, he knows exactly what this means.

His eyes dart between you and your daughter, now seeing the mix of your features on her face. She has your eyes, and her hair is the exact same, but she also has his bright smile, and his nose, and of course, the same birthmark above her eye.

“Is she-” he begins, trailing off as he shakes his head. He’s trying hard to wrap his head around this situation, and the only thought running through his mind is why the hell didn’t she tell me?

“She’s three,” you reply softly, unable to bring yourself to say the real truth. He’s not stupid; you know you shouldn’t need to, and you don’t want to say a thing around Delia, anyway. 

“Why didn’t you-?” he begins again, but you cut him off, keeping a firm grip on your daughter as she wiggles around in your arms.

“You were miserable in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t make you stay,” you explain, your throat feeling tight as you feel all the emotions you’ve been shoving deep down for the past four years fighting their way to the surface again.

“You wouldn’t be making me stay, if I knew, I would’ve wanted to stay. You know that,” he tells you, brows furrowed. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you since he left. Leaving you in Pennsylvania was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he knew how important it was for you to graduate, and he couldn’t ask you to leave with him and throw away your own dreams for his. 

Now, looking at you, and the little girl in your arms, his heart feels heavy. He feels guilty for not being there for you for four years. He wishes that he never left.

“And I wasn’t miserable. I had you,” he continues, his fists clenching at his sides as he watches his daughter wrap her arms around your neck and rest her little head on your shoulder. He wants more than anything to hold her, but she has no idea who he is, and that causes a pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry. We were young, and I didn’t know what to do,” you explain, guilt filling your belly. In hindsight, you know you should’ve told Buck; he had a right to know, but you didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I can’t just forget about this now. I can’t just go back to not seeing you, not seeing her,” he says, his tone pleading as he looks down at your daughter again, his eyes soft as he takes in her drowsy eyes.

“Delia,” you tell him with a small smile, tilting your head to the side and resting your cheek against the top of her head.

He smiles too, and you think you see tears forming in his eyes as he nods, then clears his throat.

“Delia,” he whispers. “She looks just like you,” he continues, louder this time. 

You laugh softly, shrugging as you squeeze Delia tighter to you. You’re thankful that she’s been quiet while you talk, clearly tired after a long day at the park, and then running errands.

“I think she looks like you,” you reply, and he chuckles softly, feeling a sense of pride fill his chest. He can’t believe he hasn’t been there to see his little girl grow up, and that you’ve had to do this all alone.

“Please let me see you again. Please.” You smile at his words; you knew Buck would want to help out as much as he could if he ever found out. You feel guilt eating at you as you see the longing in his expression, but this feels like a second chance, and you don’t want to cut him off again.

“Okay. But, can I call you later? I should get her home and ready for daycare tomorrow. We shouldn’t really talk about this here, anyway,” you say quietly, gesturing down to Delia. She may only be three, but she understands a lot, even in her sleepy state, and you don’t want to confuse her before you know what this is.

He nods quickly, then gives you his phone to get your number, and when he has it, you say goodbye before you go your separate ways. 

Your daughter waves haphazardly at Buck as you walk away, and you can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. She’s asked about her father before, and you never quite knew what to say. Maybe now she’ll actually be able to have the father she’s always asked about. The one that you’ve longed for for the last four years.

Later that night, when Delia’s in bed, you call Buck and set up a day for him to come over to spend the day with you two. You both agree not to tell Delia who he really is, at least not right away. First, you’ll just get her used to him, and then you’ll cross the next bridge when you get to it.

You weren’t at all surprised when the first time Buck showed up on your doorstep, Delia welcomed him in with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and bringing him into the living room where all her toys were scattered around. You weren’t surprised when Buck sat right down with her and played with her all day, either, only stopping for snack breaks.

Anything she would ask for, he would do, whether it was playing hide and seek, or painting with her, or throwing her up in the air as many times as she wanted while playing what she calls “rocket ship.”

Eventually, his afternoon visits ended up ending later and later, and you’d sit on the couch and talk long after Delia went to bed. You missed hanging out with him, and seeing him being so good with Delia had you falling for him all over again. 

It wasn’t hard to see that he felt the same; you could see the way his eyes wandered down your body, or down to your lips when you were speaking, but you never did anything about it. Your number one priority is Delia, and you don’t want to do anything too early and confuse her. 

One day, a few months after you had run into Buck, he’s sitting on the carpet with your daughter, holding two of her Barbie’s in his hands with furrowed brows as she explains to him who they are. You’re sitting with them, watching with a fond smile, when Delia stops, looking up at Buck quizzically.

“Are you my daddy?” she asks softly, her brows knit together in confusion as she eyes him.

Both you and Buck’s eyes widen, and your lips part as you try to figure out what to say. You knew this was coming, but you couldn’t figure out how to go about it.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?” Buck finally says, tilting his head to the side as you watch them.

“Everyone at school has daddies. And, you love my mommy,” she explains, looking between the two of you. You tilt your head to the side and steal a glance at Buck, seeing the smile growing on his face. He meets your gaze for a second, raising a brow, and you nod once. You don’t know how this is going to go, but you want to try.

“Of course, I love your mommy. And I love you, too,” he assures her with a smile, bringing a hand up and tracing her chubby cheek with his fingers.

She smiles bashfully, tilting her head to the side, then stops for a moment, thinking. You can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she looks at the space between the two of you, spaced out, and then she looks back up at Buck.

“Will you be my daddy?” she asks, and your heart shatters when you see the nervousness in her eyes. Buck can feel tears forming in his eyes as he looks back into her eyes, and his heart somehow feels both full and empty at her words. He’s been hoping to eventually become Delia’s father for real, but hearing the uncertainty in her voice makes him want to hold her close and never leave her again.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll be your daddy,” he says after a moment, not wanting her to wait a second longer. He lets out a huff as Delia suddenly shoots up and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling into his lap with an elated giggle.

“I love you, daddy,” she says breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck and squeezing him hard. You watch with a smile, tears forming in your own eyes as you see a tear slip down Buck’s cheek.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice shaky as he hugs her close to his chest.

He’s always wanted a family, and now that he has this one, he never wants to let it go. He just can’t believe he missed out on the first three years. He’ll have to make it up to his girls, he thinks to himself.

“I’m gonna go talk to your mommy for a second. We’ll be right back, okay?” he tells your daughter when she finally gets off his lap and goes back to playing with her Barbie’s.

When you’re both in the kitchen, and sure Delia’s distracted, Buck closes the space between you two, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. You hold his wrists as you kiss him back, caught slightly off guard but quickly regaining your composure as you move your lips in time with his.

When you finally pull back, you’re both out of breath, and he looks down at you with sparkling eyes, studying your face for a moment before bringing your foreheads together. 

“I want to be a real family. I don’t just want her, I want you, too.” he whispers, letting his thumb trace along your skin as he holds your face in his hands. You laugh in slight disbelief, then nod, letting a tear finally fall down your cheek. The last four years without him have been exhausting, and all you wanted was this, but you never thought you could have it. Except now Buck is standing right in front of you, telling you that he wants exactly what you want.

“I want that, too.” you tell him softly, then bring your lips up to his again, kissing him with newfound fervour. 

Your hands go to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer as you part your lips and let his tongue slip into your mouth, searching. He keeps one hand on your face as the other goes down to your hip, holding you flush against him as he tilts your head further up into the kiss, and a low groan escapes his throat as he feels your plush middle pressed against him. 

You finally have to pull away when you hear your daughter’s squeal from the other room; yelling a high pitched “daddy!” 

You both race to the living room, letting out sighs of relief when you see her sitting in the same spot on the carpet that you’d left her, with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” You scoff, laughing softly as you shake your head. You’ve seen that sweet little expression before; she knows exactly how to ask for what she wants, but unlike Buck, you’re more used to having to say no.

“Yeah, we can have ice cream for dinner, baby,” Buck replies before you can, and your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowed. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, however, as he’s smiling fondly at Delia as she squeals excitedly and makes her way to him.

When Buck picks your daughter up in his arms and finally turns to face you, you can feel the sliver of anger slip away, seeing how Delia is looking up at Buck with a dazed smile; clearly happy about finally having her daddy. 

“You’re already wrapped around her finger.” you tease, and all he does is shrug, a smile plastered to his face.

“Happily.” he replies, then leans down and gives you a gentle kiss. You both laugh when you hear Delia’s fake sounds of disgust, and when you pull back, Buck throws her up in the air, then catches her.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your daddy, you’re gonna have to let me kiss your mommy, that’s part of the deal.” he teases as he throws her up in the air, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from her lips. 

“Okay, okay, okay!” she gets out through breathless gasps, and when Buck hums in victory and lowers her back into his arms, he gives her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

You watch with a grin, and you can’t believe that you lived for four years without Buck. But now that he’s back, you never want to leave him again.

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[glossykissies]

clark and his gf who’s all sad because her friends keep ditching her and he’s trying to make her feel better.

love you so much on both blogs!

i like this as bsf!clark who’s in love with you so he hangs out with you and all your girl friends and is basically apart of your group — just so he can be near to you.

you’d planned a girls night, and clark was fine with that because… well, he had stuff to do around the barn anyway. you’d been excitedly rambling about it all week — buying facemasks, ordering pizza and pulling out the best girly romcom dvds to ensure a perfect night… until they all cancelled.

you were a sweet, sensitive soul who didn’t take well to disappointment, so clark’s heart sank when the phone rang, your best friend picking up only to be met with your snivels.

“look, hey, don’t cry — i’ll come over, okay?” he coo’s, his natural instinct being to coddle you and just hope it didn’t come off as patronising. you usually seemed to like it.

“what— what about the barn? ‘said you were busy with it tonight—”

“ah, the barn can wait.” he blows it off. you can’t see him but you know he waved his hand as he said it as if to convince you even more of its unimportance. “my old man’ll understand. he thinks you’re a total angel. infact i think he’d be more mad at me if i didn’t go to see you.”

you sniff, twiddling pathetically with the phones curly wire. “well… if you’re sure…”

“completely sure. i’ll be over there as fast as i can.”

clark was a little too excited, having to convince himself not to use his super speed.

he didn’t expect you to be so upset however, ending up beside you on the couch with a hand on your back as you cried. he knew it would be rude to ask if your emotions had anything to do with your menstruation cycle, he wanted to slap himself for even thinking of it — but he wondered if that had a part to play.

“i just feel like i always put in effort with people but there’s always something more important.” you rant, swiping beneath your eyes in frustration. clark shuffles closer, tentatively placing a hand on your back.

“mhm?” he urges you on in a gentle tone, hoping to ease you into a more relaxed mood.

“i was excited.” you pout, turning to face him — seeming to be at the end of your meltdown. he presses his lips together with a sympathetic smile.

“yeah, i figured. i mean, look at all this effort you went through setting this up.” clark validates you, lifting a hand to gesture to the way you’d decorated the living room with snacks and movie options, blankets strewn across the couch creating a comfortable atmosphere. “i suppose we’ll have to enjoy it just the two of us.” he grins, mindful of his tone — not wanting to seem like he wanted to take advantage of this situation, even if he secretly did.

“you’ll even do facemasks with me?” you let a smile slip, peering up at him through wet eyelashes. he grimaces like he’s pretending to think about it as you giggle, now being the one to shuffle closer to him.

“you gonna put cucumbers on my eyes?”

“oh yes, the full spa experience.” you tease, and clark can’t help but reach up and brush the final tear off your cheek with a fond smile. you lean happily into his hand, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“i’m lookin’ forward to it.”

clark effortlessly takes your mind off things, a natural at distracting you with dumb dad jokes, debating over pizza toppings and lastly making silly observations about the rom-com you’d landed on.

you’re sleepy — clark had noticed you always got sleepy after eating a big meal, and after tearing through copious amounts of pizza you’d allowed yourself to lay on his chest, tired eyes glued to the screen as he strokes your back, afraid to even breathe wrong incase you come to your senses and crawl off him.

you couldn’t help it, he was just so big and warm — it would be a waste for him to take up all that space and for you not to use it. you figured you were close enough to cuddle anyway, thigh cocked up in a half straddle on his lap, sleepily giggling at a point he made.

“i just don’t get why the main love interest is being played by a forty year old.” he shrugs and you chortle harder against him.

“y’so warm.” you muse out of nowhere, drunk on tiredness. it had to be nearing 2am at this point; and you’d totally let your guard down. you feel his heart skip a beat against your ear.

“uh— really? oh, well… thanks. i think?”

“s’a good thing clarkie.” you shift until you’re looking up at him, faces inches away, body to body. clark licks his lips, brows furrowed slightly as tries (and fails) not to glance at your mouth. “thank you for hanging out with me.”

“y—eah.” he rasps, voice breaking at the low volume. he clears his throat, and you take an extra second longer to look at him before dropping your head back down, body getting heavier over the minutes that pass as you slowly succumb to sleep. clark stays awake, unable to sleep a wink, too consumed by the feeling of you on top of him.

[sagesbard]

Actor au! My love 💟

Reader is a camera worker afab for the NSFW parts. Oh yeah NSFW MINORS DNI

Captain Curly 🎉

He met you on the first day of set. You were messing with a camera tripod that wasn't working properly. Muttering swears as you look at the metal contraption.

You were too busy trying to figure out the stupid camera to notice the man looking at you.

As shooting went on there was a day the director wasn't there. The producer stepped up, only issue was the producer was an asshole. It was a student film anyways.

As they shot a scene you realize one of the actors was going too far near the road during a flashback scene.

You automatically shot up behind the camera. Meanwhile the producer was too busy flirting with another person.

"Cut! Cut you dumbasses." You shout, setting down your headphones as you run from behind the camera. "Fucking stop Jim!" You yelled as Jimmy and Daisuke looked at you confused, stopping in their tracks.

"The fuck Y/N!?" The producer shouted once he realized what had happened.

"Are you fucking stupid!?" You yelled, finally snapping at the guy in front of you. "They were way too close to the fucking road you know cars just speed through here. You say as if on cue a car speeds past them.

"Yeah yeah, know your God damn place camera girl." The producer sneered. Curly then walked up.

"Calm down Daniel, she was just looking out for the crew, you obviously weren't." Curly said, defending his coworker.

"Watch it Grant, I can have your ass fired if I wanted to." Daniel said, crossing his arms as if he won.

"I'm sure Vivian would love to hear that you fired her only actor that knows what he's doing. No offense guys" Curly says. Turning towards his costars for a moment.

"none taken" Daisuke says. He took the job out of boredom. Jimmy took the job after you begged him for a week straight. And Swansea took it because Daisuke offered him up.

Curly volunteered for the job because he thought you were cute and wanted to spend more time with you.

Daniel scoffed and walked away. Muttering something about the two of you.

Curly laughed as the other man walked off.

Ever since then the two of you got closer.

After shooting wrapped up he asked you out.

Curly was nervous before your first date.

He took you out to a movie.

You ended up talking through a majority of it, ranting about the different shots and how they did the practical effects.

He loved listening to you the spark you had for film.

One date because two, then three, then before you two knew it he was asking you to move in with him.

Of course you said yes, you two got an apartment your last year of college.

NSFW

The first time you hooked up it was after the cast and crew party after wrap up.

The two of you were wasted and one thing led to another.

Even drunk he was still so sweet with you. He tasted like whiskey and citrus.

The way his hips moved against yours in a dance of fiery passion.

The morning after you expected him to be gone. But actually you woke up to the smell of coffee.

Curly leaned against the doorway, a mug in his hand as he greeted you. "Morning doll." He said, kissing your forehead.

That was when you realized that he was someone you wanted, no *needed* in your life.

Afterwards sex with him was always sweet.

A service top 100%

One day he needed to blow off steam and of course being the amazing girlfriend you are, you offered to help.

You couldn't walk the next day.

Daisuke🌺

Like I said he picked it up because he was bored.

He saw you fighting with the camera and fell in love.

The way you excitedly ranted about the inner workings of your favorite films.

He asked you out not too long during shooting.

He took you to an arcade.

He did his best to win you one of the crappy stuffed animals from the claw machine.

He spent all his tokens but on the last go he won you a little dog plushie. You still keep it on your bed to this day.

NSFW

A switch leaning towards bottom.

He's not normally submissive but he's inexperienced. So he wants you to be in control so you can feel good.

When he is top though hes a little rough with it. Panting and whining like a dog while he thrusts into you non stop.

Probably has a power play kink (I forgot what it was called) but you're the one that has most of the power.

Let him call you ma'am and he goes all night.

Same with you praising him.

Anya

She was originally in tech with you. She worked on lights until the original actress quit the project due to the producer being an asshole.

The director knew she'd do amazing at the role and set her up with an audition. Of course she knocked it out of the park.

You supported her from behind the scenes.

You were the one to ask her out.

You two went to the park and had a picnic.

Soon you two graduated from college and life went on. You moved in together and got a cat, Anya getting a job as a nurse and you working your way up to a director.

I can't really think of any NSFW ideas for Anya rn if anyone has any idea pls share :)

Jimmy.(He's not a rapist in this AU I don't condone any of his actions as a victim of SA and rape)

You had to convince him to audition.

You were friends since highschool and believe it or not he did theatre.

You saw the way he looked with the spotlight on his face, like it was his only home.

So when you were starting a new project you BEGGED him to audition.

He was hesitant, he hadn't acted in a while so he was a bit rusty.

He walked out of the audition room nervously.

By the time the cast list was out he ran up to you, excitedly holding the paper of acceptance as he hugged you tightly.

You two both carpooled there, sometimes you drove sometimes he drove. You always got coffee before even if y'all were late.

When he asked you out it was at the cast and crew after party.

He took you to an off-Broadway play. He wasn't a fan of musicals. He still has some song in his playlist though.

Afterwards you went on more dates then you two moved in together.

NSFW

He tries to be gentle he truly does.

But when he's in the moment he can't help but slam his hips against yours and bite a little too harshly.

He immediately apologizes after though and give THE BEST aftercare in the whole world.

He 100% whimpers when he's close.

He also goes kinda braindead when he cums. Mumbling stuff like "fuck I love you" or yes over and over again. You live for the desperation in his voice every time he's close.

Anyways guys- lmk how you feel about the actor au? I love it sm because there's little room for angst because it feels like everyone gets a happy ending 😁 also for the producer and the director I used a random name generator y'all can change it if u want <3

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss It Better Pt: 5

Curly x Reader

SUM: You had been sleeping in the med bay when Daisuke came to find you. Nearly stabbed him, but despite the scare he shared with you some good news! Jimmy managed to open the shipment bay. Now you all can finally get more resources to survive. Right…..?

Warnings: Jimmy, and uh. Actually that’s it. Hmph! Chapter breather again! No real trigger I can tell. Just ya know “it’s a mouthwashing fic” awareness stuff!

Your sleep was miserable. You swore you didn’t even sleep at all. You had just laid there all night, listening to Curly’s painful breathing and flinching at whatever noise the ship caused. No real rest. Only restlessness.

You even heard someone coming down the hallway. Your heart raced, as you gripped your knife tighter under the pillow. There was someone coming, and you had to be prepared. Sure it could be Anya, since she is the nurse.

But what if it’s not?

You would hear the door open, and you tried to look relaxed. Look like you were still fast asleep, and not waiting. Waiting for any sign of proof that it wasn’t Jimmy. Just praying it’s Anya.

So far it didn’t seem so. The foot steps were heavy, like wearing boots. There was also the fact Anya would speak to herself often. Just saying the quietest of things. Just whatever she was thinking. Didn’t hear a an expected ‘oh my-‘ that was gentle and soothing. None of that.

Just heavy foot steps that stood infront of you. Could even feel the body heat coming closer. Made you sweat in fear. The hell was Jimmy going to do? Did he think you were too tired to notice a touch?

Like hell you’ll be next.

You swung the blade right out of the pillow, and was quick to sit up. Panting in a blend of anger and fear.

To your horror it was not Jimmy.

It was Daisuke.

He had managed to fall on his ass just in time. You had been so terrifyingly close to nailing him. You had ghosted his cheek so close you nicked some of his hair right off his head. The small strands now on the floor.

“Oh god, I am so sorry-! I thought you were Jimmy. Fuck, Suke I am so sorry-“ You left the knife on your pillow, as you looked at your hands in disgust. How you were so close to almost seriously hurting your friend.

Typical Daisuke fashion, he laughed it off.

“Don’t worry about it Nakama! I totally get it. You are Curly’s Koibito! Course you were get defensive. I don’t blame you a lick! Pretty impressive, gotta admit. I would even say cool if I wasn’t on the other end of it.” He would laugh away, as he understood the situation.

Strange….He didn’t question you on why you said Jimmy…..

“Oh-! I came in here to tell you something! I figured you were in here, since I knocked on your bedroom door and nothing was responded back. So here’s the deal, Jimmy managed to unlock the shipment door. He told me to round everyone up so we can meet there and enter together.” He explained to you, as he would help you stand up.

He managed to open the door? Finally. His ass was finally being useful. Maybe there was finally something to make these remaining days less terrifying, and maybe extra in case of delays. It was to ideal to expect them to arrive exactly 28 days from now. Never hurts to have extra. Maybe there were better medical supplies! Yeah, also over optimistic but what else did you have left?

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute. Need to check over Curly first and all-“ You explain, as Daisuke gave a nod of understanding. Was also going to be used to help collect your thoughts. Damn you needed some proper sleep, but you were too worried for Curly and Anya. Suppose as the spouse of the captain you felt some kind of responsibility.

You don’t even have a role and you still had more respect and nerve to take care of everyone over the new captain.

How peculier.

“I’ll wait outside the door. Give ya privacy and all that.” He said, before stepping out of the door. He even was whistling to make some noise to give you two somewhat of privacy. Damn that guy was such a sweetheart. Even after so much.

Such a ray of sunshine.

You would run through his routine, and used it to help ground yourself. Just things that were familiar and automatic. Just had to get your brain in the game. Wake up a little bit more.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise. I love you, and remember. Just a few more weeks. You can do this. We can return back to those snowy mountains together. You and me. Have your siblings join us even, and watch them face plant over and over from their shitty balance.” You tried to give him hope, and his broken laugh said it worked.

You would kiss his forehead, before tucking away the knife into your robe pocket. Your card ID was in the other, so you didn’t risk damaging it or losing it when pulling the blade out. You also would lay Curly’s head on your pillow, in some kind of hope it could help him get some sleep.

For once he actually seemed to finally rest his eye. Suppose knowing it was your pillow, and having the faintest scent of you, was soothing something in his brain. That special little button to over run certain factors.

Some rest.

With one more Love You, you would now join Daisuke with heading over to the shipment bay. There with Anya and Swansea. Luckily Anya was standing next to Swansea, so that gave you some relief. Did feel a little guilty you didn’t hurry over sooner.

“About damn time you two. What took you so long? Actually, I don’t care. Let’s just get these doors open and finally see what the hell was so important for us to ship over a year’s time frame.” You glared at the nerve he had to talk to you, AND Daisuke, like that.

Even Swansea was shooting him an annoyed look.

“Just open the damn door, kid-“ The eldest of the group warned. “You got it unlocked, go on and open it already! No point in waiting any longer. Let’s see what the hell was so important they had to have it locked down so hard.” He added on.

Jimmy would give an eye roll, before listening to him. With the scanner triggering the override, the doors would finally click themselves to unlock. Sounded like they haven’t opened in years compared to months. Had you a bit worried.

The doors would slide themselves open, and you all were greater to a massive hall. Was just endless boxes. All about the same size, but it was looking into a sky full of stars. Felt like it went on forever. Was so high you swore you could catch a wisp of a cloud.

“Damn….” Swansea muttered, as you all would walk into the shortage volt. A strong stench of mint was quick to hit you all as well. Good to make the eyes water. Had you cough a bit by such an intense flavor overload.

“Smells like someone threw like a mint bomb in here. Phew-!” Daisuke would wave at his face, as Anya seemed to be the only one not really bothered. Suppose years of disinfect use makes you kinda nose blind.

“Wonder why it’s so minty in here.” You pondered, as Jimmy went to grab one of the boxes. Seemed to have some heft, given the weight lifter had to put in some effort to get it down.

Everyone was soon surrounding the box. Just wondering whatever could be inside. What could have been so important to ship, why there is so many, and why the hell the shipment was taking so long to get. Maybe it’s something important so no matter what people would have come for them? That would be nice.

Seems like thank god you found that transmitter.

“Is….is this-?”

“Mouthwash-?!”

Everyone was left kinda speechless. Just there infront of you was a box stuffed with mouthwashing bottles. Just simple, easy to make, mouthwash. Nothing special at all. Just dental hygiene.

Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of mouth wash bottles.

Left you all rather speechless. The hell does someone say? It’s just a bottle of liquid you are meant to spit out. It’s not even useful! And this ship was stuffed with it!

Anya would pick up a bottle, and read off the ingredients. Just trying to find some kinda of use for it. Meanwhile the rest of you were kinda having a crisis.

You on the fact Curly went through all this abuse for something that is not worth dying for. Made your ears ring, and nothing could really get through your head. You just had to process this insanity before you. That this was what would have been your final mission call, and what Curly lost his limbs for.

What pulled you away from the cocktail of mixed emotions was Anya panicking.

You quickly looked over, and say Swansea uncorking a bottle. Just out right drinking it.

“Hey hey-! Stop that-!” You ran over, and managed to get him to stop. Half the bottle was empty though. Was it dangerous to drink that stuff? You knew he had been sober for years, but was he really going to be that desperate for a fix?

People were falling apart fast. You needed to bring everyone back into control again. You wish it could be as easy as telling them the truth, but if Jimmy caught scent that help will come he might do something drastic. Maybe go on a killing spree and say he was the last survivor. Maybe something worse? What could be worse?

You didn’t want to know.

“Swansea, please. We still have plenty of rations, right? We aren’t empty on supplies just yet-“ You would take on the position of leader, since Jimmy sure was doing a shit job of it. Didnt say a damn thing when poor Swansea started chugging.

You would jump up on one of the crates, and used it as a stand to get everyone’s attention. Get everyone to focus on you and listen closely. You had to make a plan. Get gears turning in the right directions.

“We are going to be ok. Like I said, we still have supplies left. Curly can afford to stay in his bandages a little longer than normal with how we keep the med bay clean. He can afford to slow down his pain killer usage. We can stretch the food out longer if we make sure to not waste our energy on things that aren’t absolutely needed. We can afford to wait. We can wait. We will wait. At the very least try and give this another month before you guys all go crazy and say mutiny. Ok? We will be ok. Trust me. Curly and I had been victims of a crashed ship before. We will be ok.”

That was a lie.

Curly never crashed a ship in all his years. Never even crashed a damn bike, but sometimes you need to create fake hope to keep people from eating each other alive. That’s what a captain does. You try and take care of your crew by all means possible. You try, at least.

Something Jimmy hasn’t done at all.

“You are right-“ Anya said, before joining you on the box. She was anxious to speak up, because it made Jimmy focus on her, but she wanted to take care of everyone the best she could as well. She wanted to become a doctor for a reason. To help people. Now was her time to shine.

“We just need to remain calm. Panicking and doing things like chugging mouthwash isn’t going to do any of us good. We are still stable right now. Maybe there IS something useful here. We will look through here, while Swansea and Daisuke keep working on trying to repair what they can.”

You were proud of Anya. Having two calm voices was going to have a heavier impact than just one. Seemed to work on Swansea at least. To see you two up there, holding each other for support.

Just like his girls.

“Fine fine. But ONE month. That’s all you’ll get out of me-“ He warned, before whistling for Daisuke to follow him back to the lower decks. Suke didn’t really want to. Not with the fact Jimmy remained so silent during all this, and just glared at the two on the box.

“Jimmy? Your thoughts-?” Daisuke tried to get him to speak. Everyone now looked to the ‘Captain’ now. All he had to do was scoff.

“You heard them. Not like we have any better shit to do.” He narrowed his eyes at you, being suspicious on how you seemed so damn calm about this realization. You hope he thinks you are just good at playing it cool.

“I’m going to see if I can dig my way through some of the foam in the rooms to find any more supplies we can use.” Finally. Something actually useful from him.

That was when the team split up, and you would join Anya in trying to hunt down possible supplies through the thousands of boxes of mouthwash. Maybe something an employee left behind, or other materials stuffed away.

Once you were damn near the back of the storage vault, and any possible sounds of extra footsteps could be heard miles away, you finally pulled her aside.

You told her everything.

She sobbed into your shoulder in pure relief. Things were going to actually be ok indeed. She just had to let it all out. Probably some mixture of that crying was about Curly as well. You had to tell her that part. She’s a nurse. She needed to know for medical purposes. Such as infection risks and what wounds were reopened.

Didn’t know how long she cried, but it was long enough for Jimmy to get suspicious. Ended up hunting you two down in the vault. Fortunately his foot steps were easy to hear from so far away.

You couldn’t help but feel such a heavy dread come your way. That maybe it was better to hide. You didn’t know why. Something just sounded so off about his foot steps. They were heavier…and faster.

“Shhhh-“ You hushed, and she would wipe her eyes clean. Now she heard it to, and it was making her anxious as well. The two of you looked at each other, before to the shelves.

Time to put that ice mountain training with curly to use.

You climbed up the shelves, and tried to get as high as you could. Anya did her best to follow after you. She would directly follow the path you took, but her foot ended up slipping. She managed to grab your robe, and now you were holding on to dear life to the top shelf, while she tried to get her grip again.

“I swear I heard her crying back here. I know I did. I know her crying better than anyone-“ Jimmy muttered, as he was just under you both. Oh how you were trying so hard to keep your grip. You needed to move so bad, but if you did you risked making noise. You just had to hang on. Hang on long enough for him to leave.

Felt like an eternity, but you could hear him walking. That was until Anya’s sandal slipped off from her trying to get her footing.

The echo it made froze your blood.

You could feel him turning around, and you swore it was all over.

“JIMMY! SWANSEA AND I FOUND SOMETHING!” You could hear Daisuke call.

Thank you Ray of sunshine.

You would hear his footsteps fade away, and now you were finally able to help her up to the top shelf. The two of you just hiding there for a while. Catching your breaths, and shaking.

“Will Curly be ok stationed out in our bedroom?” You asked her, when you two were able to breathe.

“Yes….Yes he should. Just need to make sure he remains on clean fabric, a place to hang his IV, and things like that.” She swallowed, as you would stroke her hair.

“And a standby nurse?” You asked, as her eyes stared up at you with such a relief. A real place to hide. To finally get real sleep.

“Never hurts to have extra help.” She consented, as you two kept holding each other. Deep breaths of that painful mint, and the sounds of the ever creaking ship.

You couldn’t help but swear you could hear your husbands groans from the medbay. Maybe it was your imagination or maybe……

Jimmy was taking his anger out on someone.

You closed your eyes, and prayed it wasn’t the latter.

Just twenty eight more days.

Just…….

28 more days until rescue…..

Tag list: @meheheasasa @letmebedelutional @trashcansally @balanahala562 @dinkyzoop @danart501 @spudfromspace @niyamamiya @silas-222 @lil-writer-523 @ratkidcalledallie @vainillacookie @gumycandyyy @kawliflo @mikeyswifie @sc4rrc @infl1cted @sakui1 @justsomereaderwholikesanime @strawbrysapphic @bittersw33t-lotus @emmathecouchpotato4583 @crysta4rtist @luvsymai @mythraendir @dietcokeandlana @teenie-beanie @chewbrry @letmebedelutional

Like I say, it depends on when you ask and the fact tumblr doesn’t like me tagging certain usernames. Like they don’t even register. So do a solid and reblog to help people I’m unable to tag to see this post! Thank you!

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[hearts4golbach]

Can I request carrington x reader where his Lon term partner (reader) didn’t like flowers, so he makes her paper ones himself? Like those paper bouquets you see in like, booktok

Thank God for Tiktok.

pairing:

Carrington Bornstein x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

pre established relationship 👅

not proofread

warnings:

none.

word count:

1.0k

To say Carrington had been crafting for hours was an understatement. the sun had gone down a while back. He was sitting in his moonlit room surrounded by miscellaneous crafting tools and books. tomorrow was your birthday. no, he hadn't been procrastinating. he had ordered you a gift but stumbled upon the idea to make you paper flowers. you preferred not to get real flowers. You were always so upset when they inevitably died.

so, he was glued to his bed (pun intended), making you an immortal bouquet of paper flowers.

previously, he had rushed out of the house to go find some books he could cut up. clearly, he didn't own any, and he wasn't about to steal one of Johnnies' comics. he settled on going out, possibly to goodwill or target, to get a book or two for his project. he wandered to the arts and crafts section, getting a hot glue gun and sticks. he also found a pack of pipe cleaners and some ribbon. everything he had chosen was a perfect match for his vision. and with that, he was all set.

it had been about three and a half hours since then. he was about to finish the very last flower, then he'd have a set of exactly twenty. he mentally praised himself for how well they actually turned out. he even curled out the edges of the paper to imitate real flowers.

setting the last one in the pile, he admired his work. he couldn't help but smile to himself, dreaming of your reaction at dinner tomorrow night.

Carrington grabbed a handful of the dark green pipe cleaners and began attaching them to the paper flowers. thoughts of your bright smile plagued his mind.

he knew you'd be somewhat shocked at the present, considering he wasn't an arts and crafts type of person. when it came to you, he was up for anything.

he envisioned how the bouquet would look in your bedroom, grinning to himself whenever he realized it'd fit your aesthetic perfectly.

he sang to himself softly. the song that was playing reminded him of you. he was slightly relieved when gluing the stems on didn't take as long as the flowers themselves. he held the fairly large bouquet in one hand, a stupid smile plastered on his face. he tied a bow around the stems as perfectly as he could before setting it on his desk carefully.

as soon as he crashed into bed, he fell asleep almost immediately. ignoring the ache in his knuckles and the slight pounding in his head, he drifted off to sleep.

the next morning went by fast. he had a couple of 'business' things to figure out with Jake and Johnnie, which went by a lot quicker than he had figured. by lunchtime, he was anxiously waiting by his phone for you to respond. of course, he knew it'd take forever. you were at lunch with friends, and you were coming over straight after. it was a sort of nervous excitement. he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his gift.

Carrington decided against sitting there for another hour. he went to the bathroom and adjusted his hair. his curly dark brown locks hung in his face, complimenting his bright blue eyes. he tried to do something different with his hair, but there wasn't much. he knew you wouldn't care. You loved playing with his messy hair.

finally, his phone rang. your name and photo popped up on the screen. he scrambled to his phone and answered on the first ring. "Hi, baby." he greeted.

"Hey," he could hear the sudden smile in your voice, which made him grin. "im leaving now. Am I still good to come over?"

"Yeah. yeah, of course." he furrowed his eyebrows together, very expressive as he spoke even though you couldn't see his face.

you hummed and said goodbye before ending the call. you sped over there, so excited you drove over the speed limit without even realizing it.

meanwhile, Carrington prepped your present. he wrapped it in sparkly black, silver, and light blue wrapping paper. he taped the small card on top and grabbed the faux bouquet. he waited downstairs on the couch, holding the items in his lap.

whenever you arrived, you walked quickly up to the door. you knocked a couple of times before entering, which had become your usual routine.

Carrington jumped up and pulled you in for a hug. you felt contentment wash over you as his hands rested on the small of your back and his head in the crook of your neck.

he placed a kiss on your neck. "Happy birthday." he pulled away, beckoning you over to the couch. "c'mere."

you silently followed him over. he handed you the small box, which was neatly wrapped. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" he laughed, "it's a present."

"I told you I don't need anything," you scolded, a sincere tone in your voice.

"I wanted to get you something. open it!" he urged.

you rolled your eyes, a contradicting smile on your face. in the box, there was a beautiful necklace. it had 3 charms on it, your initial, Carringtons' initials, and a small heart. you pouted your lower lip and looked up at him. "I love it."

"im really glad," he grinned, handing you two more things. "Read the card later." he was embarrassed to see your reaction to what he wrote in person.

you sighed, "Fine." he finally handed you the bouquet.

your jaw fell to the floor as you looked at the beautiful, handmade flowers. "You made this?!"

he nodded, a prideful smile on his face. "I thought you'd really like them since you're a bookworm."

you paid no mind to his joke. you were absolutely starstruck by the flowers. "they're so beautiful, Carrington." You couldn't contain the soft smile that threatened to appear. you placed a soft, slow kiss on his lips. "I love you."

he placed a kiss on your forehead. "i love you." All he could think was, 'thank god for tiktok.''

[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.

[n0vazsq]

Found the way | PA17 x Reader

pairing . . . soulmate!paul aron x soulmate!mixed!race!reader

summary . . . Meeting your soulmate after talking telepathically for years certainly was something.... especially when he's a race driver and you're an intern working in the same place

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none! just a note that i'm going to refer to paul by his name, but reader doesn't know what his name is until they met!! conversations in their mind are in italic!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . wow. this was something to write.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . For as long as you could remember, you and Paul had been connected. It wasn’t something you had asked for, but it felt like it was always meant to be. Every day, you heard his voice in your head, clear as day.

The first time it happened, you had been terrified. You were alone, walking home from school, and suddenly, you heard a voice in your mind.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You had frozen in place, looking around, trying to figure out who had spoken to you, but no one was there. It took weeks before you realized that the voice in your head wasn’t a hallucination or some kind of weird glitch in the world.

It was Paul.

He explained to you that he had the same ability, and he was just as confused as you were. The two of you quickly learned that you could only communicate telepathically, no spoken words, no physical contact, just thoughts exchanged in the quiet spaces of your minds.

And so, over time, you both built a connection. You got to know each other in the most intimate, invisible way. You shared everything. The good, the bad, the joys, and the fears, without the hidden stuff that often came with speaking out loud.

You’d both learned to help each other when things felt overwhelming, offering support when life was too hard to navigate alone. But there was always this unspoken rule; you couldn’t tell each other your names.

At first, it didn’t matter. You both laughed about it, making jokes and creating silly aliases. You had ended up calling him Blondie because of the way he described his hair; golden in every way, from the light shine to the warmth it seemed to radiate.

He’d called you Curls, a teasing nickname for your wild, curly hair. It became your thing.

He was Blondie, and you were Curls, and for some reason, it was perfect.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t both curious. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to meet him, see what he looked like, hold him close when he had a hard day. But there was always that one, simple rule; no names.

And yet, after years of talking like this, you both had grown closer than anyone else in your life. You had supported each other through heart ache, listened to each other’s frustrations, and celebrated each other’s victories. You couldn’t wait to finally meet in person.

"I’m counting down the days, Curls. I just know you’ll be even more beautiful than I imagined." Paul’s voice echoed in your mind one night, his thoughts filled with affection.

"I can’t wait either, Blondie. I swear, I’ve been dreaming about it." You closed your eyes, smiling, already imagining the moment when you could finally hold him, feel his warmth. "It’s all I think about."

The world outside of your telepathic connection seemed so small. Conversations with friends and family felt distant, almost irrelevant. All that mattered was you and Blondie. But you couldn’t help the anxiety that gnawed at you, what if he didn’t like you in person? What if it was awkward?

"Do you think it’ll be weird when we finally meet?" You asked, the uncertainty creeping into your thoughts.

"No." Paul’s response was immediate, confident. "I’ve been talking to you for years, Curls. It’s going to be perfect."

You had talked to him about your job internship, how you were working behind the scenes in the paddock for a Formula 1 team, assisting with everything from logistics to preparation, and experience to complement your course in motorsport management.

You’d mentioned how exciting, yet nerve wracking, it was to finally get the opportunity to be in such a fast paced environment, learning from professionals in the industry. You’d also shared how there was a possibility, just a small one, that you and he could meet face to face for the first time during the race weekend, though you hadn’t expected it to happen so soon or so unexpectedly.

And now, here you were, standing in the bustling paddock of a Formula 1 race, running around trying to do your job done amidst all the excitement. You were barely keeping your focus, distracted by the knowledge that you were just a few meters away from meeting him, your soulmate, the person who had been in your head for years. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt as nervous as you did.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

You were walking with a team member down the crowded pit lane, carrying a stack of equipment for a quick setup. As you navigated the sea of people, your foot caught on the edge of a toolbox, sending you tumbling forward.

You braced for impact, but before you could hit the ground, a pair of arms shot out, catching you in mid fall.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was go-"

Your heart skipped a beat as you collided with his chest, the impact leaving you breathless. You instinctively looked up into his eyes and froze.

There was something… something so strangely familiar about this person. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, and everything else seemed to fade away. It was as if you had always known this person, and the realization hit you like a wave.

This was him.

"Curls?" His voice was low, hesitant, but somehow it sounded exactly the same as it did in your mind. You felt a jolt of recognition.

"Blondie?" you replied, nearly breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d said it out loud or thought it, but the words came so naturally.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "You-how-how are you here?" He looked around, clearly trying to piece together the situation.

You smiled, heart pounding in your chest. "The internship."

For a moment, neither of you knew what to say. The shock and joy of the moment hung between you like a heavy blanket, but the connection you felt in your chest was undeniable.

You had been waiting for this day for years, and now that it had finally arrived, you were left speechless.

He held you at arm's length, still unsure, his fingers lightly brushing your arms as though confirming you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. "I-I didn’t expect… This wasn’t how I thought it would happen. I thought we’d… I don’t know… meet some other way."

You laughed, a sound that felt more freeing than anything you had ever experienced. "I didn’t expect it either. But here we are."

"Yeah," he said, grinning now. "Here we are."

And just like that, you both stood there, in the midst of the busy paddock, overwhelmed by the realization that everything you had shared in your minds for years was now physical, real, and right in front of you.

"What's your name, then? Mine is Paul."

You told him your name, smiling when he repeated it, as if testing the way it felt on his tongue.

Paul’s gaze softened as he stared at you, the same intensity and adoration you had always felt from him radiating in his eyes. "I’ve waited for this moment for so long. It feels… unreal."

You reached for his hand, your heart fluttering as your fingers brushed his. The sensation was electric, like every piece of you had clicked into place. "Me too," you whispered. "I’ve always known it was you, but now I can see you, and it’s more than I ever imagined."

He smiled, a tender, almost shy expression that made your heart swell. "So, you’re actually here… and I’m not dreaming?"

"I’m here, Blondie, or Paul," you reassured him softly. "And I’m never going anywhere else."

And then, without thinking, you both moved closer. You didn’t need words to tell him how much this moment meant.

You simply leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like the peak of everything you had been waiting for. Soft at first, but as if everything else in the world had faded, you deepened it, feeling a connection so deep it was almost overwhelming.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Paul rested his forehead against yours, his grip on your hands tight. "I can’t believe it. You’re here. We’re here."

You smiled, the weight of the years of waiting slowly lifting off your shoulders. "We’re here," you agreed, "and I’ll never leave."

He kissed you again, this time more passionately, as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, you knew, more than ever, that no matter the distance, no matter the years, the connection you had was real.

You had finally found your way to each other.

[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.

[v4mp-re]

ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ

SUMMARY: Mattheo Riddle still wants to be your best friend, your shoulder to cry on, regardless of what happened during your relationship.

ᴛʀᴏᴘᴇ: ex! Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

T.W: Angst, implication of drinking, mentions of losing feelings for the other party, unknowing of how to move on, slight implication of cutting people out, lack of communication between two parties, mentions smoking.

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ: @cafekitsune

Things were bound to be different.

It was something Mattheo was aware of from the moment you two crossed the threshold between just friends and lovers, yet somehow, he never anticipated that the breakup would destroy so many aspects of your relationship.

Ever since first year, the two of you were inseparable, almost as if you were conjoined at the hip. You two did everything together, from cheating off each others' potions test to both staying at Hogwarts over the holidays in fear of not having the other. For a moment, it seemed like nothing could ever come between the two of you —except yourselves. And that was exactly what had happened.

What had started off as drunken night back in 5th year — the raging green lights emitting from the party — turned into a little more than just rushed confessions and into a year long relationship. Maybe you were better off as friends.

After a few months of dating, you found yourself losing feelings for the curly haired brunette. It was something you stumbled upon when you woke up one morning and found yourself looking at the sleeping boy's figure with a lingering doubt on your mind.

Mattheo didn't give you any problems, and when he did, they were all minor issues that a flick of the wand could fix. No, he didn't do anything wrong, so why was it that the once present butterflies now disappeared? You never understood why all of a sudden, his jokes weren't as funny as how they used to be, his touches not as you remembered. The spark for you in his eyes however, remained constant with every breath he took.

Mattheo found you to be extraordinary, like an angel sent by the heavens above whilst he was a sinner, a devil, undeserving of the fruit that was your love. So no, it didn't surprise him when you broke up with him a few days after your one year anniversary. "I just think we should stay friends." Your excuse lingered in the air, a statement Mattheo never could grasp.

And now it's been months since the break up.

Your tradition to remain at Hogwarts over breaks were broken, something he only ever discovered when he knocked on the door of your dorm room, only for your roommate to inform him of your departure the night before.

How selfish of him, he thought, for taking you away from your family every year.

Mattheo was never surprised though, he knew you would find things awkward and feel guilty for how you ended things with him. He could read you like a book, even when you weren't around anymore.

Final year was hard for him. You had been there with him at the beginning of each term, always sitting in the same compartment carriage beside him, as you would go on about what you were excited for — whether about the classes or simply eager to be able to go to Hogsmeade with him again.

This year, he was met with the bickering of his best mates instead of your familiar presence. Their plans seemingly dull and repetitive in comparison to yours.

He hadn't heard from you throughout the break, his freshly bought quills and parchments gone to waste waiting for your responses, ones that never arrived. Excusing himself, he got out of the compartment carriage. He never was one to wonder the hallways of The Hogwarts Express but that was because he had everything he could ever want in the carriage with him, you.

With your absence, he could only wonder if you got on the train in time. He roams the cramped hallway, ever so slightly glancing into the carriages as he walks, hoping to spot even a glimpse of you.

He does, though the sight wasn't necessarily a welcoming one. There you were, dressed in the cloak Mattheo would always find randomly tossed on your dorm room floor, everything about you was exactly how he remembered it. Yet there you sat, in the carriage surrounded by Gryffindors, your head resting on one of the Weasley twins — one Mattheo couldn't bother remembering.

And it was then that Mattheo fear he had lost you. Your eyes glance to the door, immediately catching his and for a moment there, you swore you saw the tears welling up in his eyes —the tears he refused to let fall. Your smile fades a little and Mattheo notices it almost instantly. He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, swallowing hard before he walks off.

Your eyes linger on the door a little longer in hopes of his return, he never did.

The two coexisted from then onwards, both acting as if the other wasn't their entire life line — as though you hadn’t seen a forever in his eyes, and as though he wouldn’t rather die than lose you from his life.

Their interactions were always kept to a minimum — a simple nod here, a smile there, but nothing more than that.

That was until the night of the Slytherin party. The quidditch match finals was earlier that day — ending with Slytherin absolutely crushing Gryffindor — which Draco took as an excuse to throw the biggest party Hogwarts has ever seen. It was your standard Slytherin rave, the pulsing of green lights, the smell of alcohol, the obnoxiously loud playing music, everything keeping up to standard in it's own way. Mattheo was situated on the couch of the common room, the cool leather green surface doing nothing to ease the urge of wanting a smoke break.

He excuses himself before exiting the common room and going to the only place he knew to go, the Astronomy Tower.

Mattheo pulls out a cigarette, bringing the familiar bud to his lips before pulling out a lighter to light said object. He's overlooking the edge of the tower, wallowing in the cold night air when the sound of sobs draw his attention.

Normally he would chase whoever it was out, but it was when he turned around to face the individual that he realised it was you, though not the you he remembered.

You sat tucked away in the corner of the tower, your body curled tightly as your sobs echoed softly around you. The sight itself enough for Mattheo to discard his cigarette, stepping on the bud before quickly moving towards you. He slowly moves to crouch in front of you, careful not to scare you as if the slightest movements would make you run.

"Can I just be left alone?" Your voice shaky with every word yet it's purpose was clear.

Mattheo's heart ached.

"What's wrong?" He spoke, his voice barely even a whisper as he stayed still, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you would open up to him like you once did.

His voice was like a homing signal for you, one you didn't know how much you missed until now. You slowly lifted your head, wanting to make sure that he was there and not just something you imagined. Your tear-streaked face met his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. His eyes, usually so guarded and sharp, were soft now, full of worry and something else—something that looked a lot like affection.

"You’re really here," you whispered, your voice trembling as if the weight of your emotions was too much to bear. The guilt of leaving him coupled with the comfort that came with his presence was something overwhelming yet welcoming.

"Of course I am," he replied, his tone steady but low, as though afraid any sudden movement might shatter whatever fragile thread held the two of you together. "I’m not going anywhere."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers clutching the fabric of your cloak as you glanced down, unable to meet his gaze again. "I didn’t mean to hurt you," you said, your voice cracking under the weight of the truth. "I just—everything got so complicated, and I—I didn’t know how to fix it."

He was quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between you like a fragile bridge.

"I don’t even know why I’m here" you finally whispered, your voice breaking like shattered glass. "I just… I didn’t know where else to go."

When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Maybe you came here because you knew I’d never turn you away," he said softly. Your eyes flickered to his, seeing the emotion hidden behind them. What was normally his calculative gaze, now shown a side of vulnerability to it — one you had almost forgotten in the time apart. "I pushed you away, Mattheo. I hurt you. I ruined everything."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Yeah, you did," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you sit here and drown in whatever’s tearing you apart. Not when I can see it’s killing you."

His words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, the dam broke. The sobs you’d been holding back spilled out, shaking your whole body. Mattheo moved closer, closing the gap between you, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently placed it on your shoulder.

"You don’t have to say anything," he whispered, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. "Just let me be here for you. That’s all I’m asking."

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him, your head resting against his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His arms wrapped around you, strong and reassuring, as though he were trying to hold together the pieces of you that had shattered.

And for the first time in a while, you let him.

[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.”