#hot chocolate divider

[mikeykuns]

Like/reblog if you use | credit not necessary

[bernardsbendystraws]

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[firefly-graphics]

Autumn Fall Dividers

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Dividers List

[fawndollie]

any blackberry pixels/dividers? :3 or do you have some hot chocolate ones?

ill keep my eye out for some blackberry ones!!

[popmilky]

christmas dividers (more here)

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[brunchable]

Under The Mistletoe | B. B.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader Themes: Fake relationship, forced proximity, enemies-to-lovers(ish), rom-com Summary: When your meddling family won’t stop asking about you love life, you roped your arch-nemesis Bucky into pretending to be your boyfriend for Christmas dinner at your parents house. It was pay back for the massive favor he owes you, so he had no choice but to agree. A/N : This oneshot is part of my 4K Follower christmas themed celebration. I hope you enjoy this first one! Thank you so much for reading my stories! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The smell of pine and cinnamon wafts through the air as you adjust the cuffs of your sweater, glaring at the man currently making himself at home in your parents’ living room. James Buchanan Barnes—your nemesis, your tormentor, the human equivalent of a lump of coal—lounges on the couch like he’s been a part of your family for years. Your mom already adores him.

“James, more eggnog?” she chirps, holding out a festive mug.

“Of course,” Bucky replies with a smile so charming, you almost believe it’s real. Almost.

You, on the other hand, are clinging to your sanity by the thinnest strand of tinsel. He’s only here because he owes you. Big time. And because your family won’t stop asking when you’ll finally settle down and find someone “worth bringing home for Christmas.”

When you roped Bucky into this charade, you expected the bare minimum. A few fake smiles. Maybe holding your hand once or twice. What you did not expect was him waltzing in here, winning over your family, and actually knowing things about you.

“Y/N hates marshmallows in her hot chocolate,” Bucky says smoothly, stopping your dad mid-scoop. “She’s all about the whipped cream.”

You freeze in the doorway, clutching a tray of cookies like a lifeline. How does he know that? You never even told him that. Your dad raises an eyebrow at you, impressed, while you try to recover from the shock.

“Right,” you stammer, narrowing your eyes at Bucky. “Because you’re so attentive.”

He smirks, the twinkle in his eye more annoying than any Christmas light you’ve ever seen. “It’s a gift.”

× × × ×

The cozy living room, aglow with soft Christmas lights, feels oppressively warm. Not because of the crackling fire or the wool socks your mom forced everyone to wear, but because Bucky’s presence next to you is positively suffocating. His thigh, firm and annoyingly warm, is pressed against yours, and every time he shifts, your nerves jolt like a live wire.

“You’re twitching again,” Bucky murmurs under his breath, leaning closer so his lips almost brush your ear. “Relax. If you keep acting like this, your mom’s going to think I broke your heart or something.”

“Maybe I should tell her you’re insufferable, so she kicks you out,” you snap, voice low enough not to disturb the room. Your family is fully engrossed in Elf, but you swear Bucky’s gaze burns hotter than the fire.

“Go ahead,” he whispers back, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m her favorite now, you know.”

You resist the urge to stab him with the candy cane you’ve been holding for the last ten minutes. Instead, you muster your sweetest fake smile and clap your hands. “Well, Mom, it’s getting late, and I think Bucky has a long drive ahead of him—”

Your mom, standing with a tray of cookies like some sort of Christmas matriarch, freezes mid-step. 

“What?” she exclaims, her eyes wide and full of betrayal. “You’re not staying, Bucky? But I prepared Y/N’s room for the two of you!”

The room goes dead silent.

Bucky’s head swivels toward you so fast, you hear a faint crack. 

“She didn’t tell me about that,” he says, his voice strangled with barely concealed panic. He offers you a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t know we’d be, uh, bunking together.”

You grit your teeth, your face burning hotter than the fireplace. “That’s because I didn’t know,” you hiss, shooting a glare at your mom that could melt Frosty the Snowman.

“How could you make your boyfriend drive all the way out here just to send him back into the snow?” your mom demands, hands on her hips like a Christmas tyrant. “Absolutely not. He’s staying. Come on, Bucky, I’ll show you two to your room.”

“Our room?” you squeak, but your mom is already bustling out of the room, and Bucky, to your utter horror, is rising from the couch to follow her.

He pauses just long enough to lean down and mutter, “This just got a whole lot more interesting, sweetheart.” The grin he flashes is wolfish, and you resist the urge to throttle him with your flannel sleeve.

The room is straight out of a Hallmark Christmas special. The fireplace is lit, the bed is perfectly made with a festive quilt and decorative pillows, and the faint smell of pine fills the air. There’s even mistletoe hanging in the corner, mocking you.

Bucky steps in, glancing around, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and terror. 

“Wow,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Cozy.”

Your mom claps her hands together, beaming. “I knew you two would love it. Oh, and don’t worry, honey, I put the extra pillows in the closet in case you need them.” She winks at you, winks, before spinning on her heel and leaving you to your doom.

The moment the door clicks shut, you whirl on Bucky. “Don’t say a word.”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, doll,” he drawls, wandering over to the bed and plopping down on it like he owns the place. He stretches out, arms behind his head, and sighs dramatically. “Comfy. We’re gonna have a great night.”

You stare at him, horrified. “You’re sleeping on the floor.”

He raises an eyebrow, patting the quilt beside him. “I don’t think your mom would approve.”

You throw a decorative pillow at his face, which he catches with infuriating ease. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? You’re the one who dragged me here.”

“You owed me!”

“And I’m paying you back,” he says with a grin, tossing the pillow back at you. “With interest, apparently.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

Bucky leans forward, his grin softening just a touch. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just one night. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Somehow, that promise doesn’t reassure you in the slightest. You glare at him one last time before grabbing a blanket from the closet and stomping to the couch by the fireplace.

“Where are you going?” he calls after you.

“To sleep.”

“Suit yourself.” 

You don’t have to look to know he’s smirking again. You grab another pillow and resist the urge to launch it at his stupidly handsome face.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

× × × ×

The fire had long since died, leaving the room shrouded in a cold that no amount of decorative holiday cheer could banish. You’d been curled up on the couch under a threadbare blanket that smelled faintly of cinnamon and humiliation for hours, but now you were shivering so hard you were worried your teeth might chatter loud enough to wake the whole house.

You shot a death glare at Bucky, sprawled out on the bed like a smug prince in his flannel pajamas, the quilt pulled up to his chin. The nerve of him actually letting you sleep on the couch while he hogged the bed like he didn’t owe you his very existence—or at least this ridiculous favor.

Finally, when your toes felt like icicles and you were seriously debating setting your pride on fire just to warm up, you caved. You untangled yourself from the blanket, muttering curses under your breath, and tiptoed toward the bed.

It would have been stealthy. It would have been smooth. Except your foot made direct, agonizing contact with the solid oak footboard.

Pain exploded through your toe, and you bit back a screech so feral you probably looked like a Christmas banshee. Instead, you crumpled to the floor, clutching your foot and mouthing a stream of silent profanities that would make Santa's naughty list blush.

“Mother F—!” you hissed at yourself, wincing as you hobbled the rest of the way to the bed. You crawled onto the empty side like some kind of injured burglar, trying to be as silent as possible. Your toe throbbed in time with your heartbeat, but you focused on one thing: the warm cocoon of blankets just inches away.

Finally, you slid under the covers, sighing as the heat from the quilt enveloped you. Bliss. Sweet, sweet bliss. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t even notice—

“Could’ve just asked, you know.”

You nearly launched yourself out of the bed in shock, your heart leaping into your throat. “What the—!” you whisper-screeched, clutching the quilt to your chest.

Bucky’s voice, low and laced with amusement, drifted through the darkness. “I was awake the whole time.”

“You—!” Words failed you as your face burned with embarrassment. “Then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I was curious how far you’d go before giving up.” You could hear the grin in his voice.

“You’re the worst.”

“Debatable. I didn’t laugh when you stubbed your toe.”

“You heard that?!”

“Sweetheart, I think the neighbours heard that.” His shoulders shook with silent laughter as you stared at him, outraged.

“I hate you,” you snapped, yanking the quilt tighter around you and turning your back on him.

But before you could stew in your annoyance, you felt a hand reach over and pull part of the blanket from you, wrapping it snugly around your side. You froze as his voice softened, amusement fading.

“Relax. I don’t bite. Unless you’re still mad about the couch.”

“I am.”

“Noted.” He shifted, and his voice dropped lower, warmer. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You turned over, your curiosity finally getting the better of you. Facing Bucky’s silhouette in the faint moonlight streaming through the window, you squinted at him. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

He exhaled softly, like he’d been waiting for you to ask. Without a word, he reached over and flicked on the small lamp on his side of the bed, filling the room with a soft golden glow. The shadows on his face softened, and he turned to face you fully, propping his head up on his hand.

“I’m not used to a soft, warm, comfortable bed,” he said simply, his voice low and quiet.

That wasn’t the answer you expected. “Why not?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

Bucky’s gaze flickered to the blanket between you before settling back on your face. “I usually sleep on the floor.”

Your jaw dropped. “The floor? Why?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal, like it didn’t hurt to admit. “I have a bed,” he said casually, “but… being uncomfortable has kind of become my normal.”

Your heart sank at his admission. The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, like he didn’t even consider it strange—made something in your chest tighten. You swallowed hard, trying to shove down the wave of sympathy threatening to show on your face.

“Oh,” you said, clearing your throat, but it came out too soft, too affected. You forced yourself to straighten up, busying your hands by tucking the quilt tighter around you. “Well, uh… this bed uncomfortably soft, so, lucky you?”

You wanted to kick yourself for how awkward that sounded. But he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he just chuckled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. 

“Yeah, lucky me.”

The room fell into silence, save for the soft crackle of the dying embers in the fireplace. You tried to avoid his gaze, but something in the room caught your eye, and you froze.

Dangling right above the headboard, in plain sight, was a sprig of mistletoe. The ribbon holding it swayed slightly, mocking you with its festive cheer.

Your brain scrambled. How had you missed that earlier? Why on earth was it there? Did mom hang it on purpose? Of course she did! That woman was a menace.

You could feel Bucky’s gaze lingering on you, and your heart thumped louder with each passing second. You knew it was only a matter of time before he noticed the stupid sprig of mistletoe dangling above the headboard, so you needed to distract him.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, his brow quirking up in suspicion as he started to turn his head.

“Nothing!” you yelped, throwing the quilt over your face in a panic. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Goodnight!”

For a second, there was silence. Then, the soft creak of the bed as Bucky shifted, his voice low and amused. “Wait a second…”

You could practically hear the smirk spreading across his face as realization dawned.

“Oh, would you look at that.”

Your stomach flipped as you slowly peeked out from under the quilt. Sure enough, Bucky was staring right at the mistletoe, his lips curving into the most maddeningly smug grin you’d ever seen.

“Mistletoe,” he said, his tone practically dripping with glee. “Right above our heads. What are the odds, huh?”

“Coincidence,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket back over your face.

He chuckled, his voice warm and teasing. “You know what they say about mistletoe, don’t you?”

“Don’t,” you groaned, your voice muffled by the quilt.

“Oh, but I think I have to,” he replied, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “It’s tradition, after all.”

You peeked out again, glaring at him. “It’s not tradition if we just pretend it doesn’t exist.”

He tilted his head, mock-pondering. “Hmm. Ignoring it feels a little… Grinch-like, don’t you think? And you wouldn’t want to ruin Christmas, would you?”

“I swear to God, Bucky—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in, his face closer than you expected, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “What? Afraid you might enjoy it?”

You scoffed, your heart racing. “As if.”

You could practically feel your heart trying to escape your chest as Bucky inched closer, the infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something else there too—something warmer, more intent.

“Oh, so it wouldn’t bother you at all?” he teased, his smirk widening. “Not even a little kiss?”

“Not in a million years,” you shot back, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his grin softening, “you’re shaking. Maybe it would bother you.”

“Bucky—”

But you never got to finish. And just then, he leaned forward and kissed your lips. Warm, masculine lips were pressed to yours. It wasn’t rushed or teasing—it was warm, gentle, and infuriatingly confident. Like he’d been waiting for this. Like he wasn’t the least bit surprised by how perfectly your lips fit together.

Your initial plan was to push him away—firmly, dramatically, maybe even with a good shove to his ridiculously broad chest—but your brain short-circuited the moment his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. Instead, you melted into him, your traitorous body leaning closer without permission.

It was supposed to be a simple, obligatory mistletoe kiss. But the way he kissed you made the world tilt, his lips moving with a deliberate tenderness that made your stomach somersault. He felt you quiver beneath his touch, but he wanted to comfort you—his tongue delved your mouth slowly and you parted your lips willingly and welcomed him. This was enough encouragement for Bucky; he sucked your tongue sensually, and you nibbled his lower lip.

Every kiss he gave felt like a slow unravelling and intense, as if he was savouring the act as much as the reaction it drew from you. Bucky’s fingers traced along your jaw, tilting your face toward him with a tender authority that left no room for hesitation. His thumb brushed over your cheek in a soothing rhythm, contrasting with the heat and urgency of his lips. When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours—dark with desire, soft with something unspoken—before he leaned in again, claiming your mouth once more.

You let him in, your lips parting as his tongue slipped past, tangling with yours again in an unhurried, sensuous dance that sent shivers down your spine. He tilted his head, exploring every curve of your mouth, his kisses leaving a heated trail that set your skin ablaze. Your lips found their way to his jawline, pressing soft kisses along his stubble, the faint roughness amplifying the sensitivity of your own. When you returned to his lips, the hunger in his kiss mirrored your own as you teased his tongue with yours, your movements bold and enticing.

The shift in your energy didn’t go unnoticed. You felt him tense, his restraint hanging by a thread as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing into yours. His hands gripped your waist, anchoring you in place as his kisses became hungrier, pulling quiet moans and ragged breaths from you. The sound of your pleasure seemed to fuel him, his control slipping further as he pressed closer, his arousal hard and insistent against your thigh, a tangible reminder of the tension thrumming between you. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a declaration, his desire spilling over and igniting something equally fierce in you.

When he pulled back it almost felt like he had to force himself to but he stayed close, his forehead almost brushing yours. His eyes searched your face, his smirk gone, replaced by something quieter, something more serious.

“Well,” he said softly, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it, “guess the mistletoe’s not so bad after all.”

You blinked, your breath hitching. “Have I told you I hate you?”

“And yet, here we are,” he teased, though his smirk was softer now, his thumb still brushing your cheek like he hadn’t realized he was still holding you.

You pushed his hand away—gently, because you were not going to think about how good it felt—and flopped back against the pillows, groaning into the quilt. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not,” he said with a chuckle, settling back onto his side of the bed. “Just a harmless little kiss. Totally meaningless.”

You peeked out from under the quilt to glare at him, but the way he was looking at you—soft, amused, and maybe a little too smug—made your pulse spike all over again.

“Goodnight, Barnes,” you muttered, burrowing back into the covers, determined to ignore the way your lips still tingled.

“Goodnight, doll,” he replied, his voice warm with amusement—and something else you didn’t want to think about.

The room fell quiet again, save for the faint crackle of the dying fire. But as you lay there, trying and failing to stop replaying the kiss in your head, you realized one thing: mistletoe was officially the most dangerous Christmas decoration of all time.

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @veronicapaula

[wndaswife]

a new tradition | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

Christmas is the busiest holiday for Westview’s planning committee, and it’s about to get far busier upon your meeting with a frustrating committee head.

Word count: 24 633

Tags | MDNI: smut, fluff!!! it is the season!, a little bit of angst, some humour, enemies to lovers, fingering, strap-on usage, nipple play, hair pulling, praise, mentions of reader’s genitals and breasts, afab!reader

Winter has always been beautiful in Westview. By the last week of November, there always came flecks of snow, signalling an upcoming white Christmas, and by mid-December, children were playing with their dogs and siblings in their backyards and town parks, sparking white blanketing the roofs, roads, and trees. 

The town’s planning committee certainly did their own part for the holidays too, for Christmas was the committee’s largest and busiest occasion of the year. The committee, composed of town volunteers and run by Westview’s municipality, began planning by the first of December, and continued on eagerly until the twentieth.

By the twentieth, there was an itinerary planned and prepared for a performance in the town square on Christmas Eve. Typically, there was a set of musical performers and, around the patio, snack vendors for things like hot chocolate and warm pastries, and small business pop-ups. 

Surrounded by outdoor heaters for the patio performers and the visitors, the town came together to listen to music, decorate cookies and ornaments, and support small businesses, with a fraction of all earnings going towards a local charity chosen in November by the planning committee.

Throughout December, the municipality itself decorated the town, with boughs of holly, lights, and other decorations and ornaments adorning the light poles, streets, and storefronts and their roofs. People of Westview began counting down until Christmas as the decorations gradually went up; by the time the town square’s patio was decorated, which was done last, they knew it was only a matter of days until the town celebration, and most importantly, until Christmas Eve. 

As anyone would guess, everyone involved in any town affair during the duration of December was rather busy, so you were rather grateful that you were able to join the planning committee late.

You’d always wanted to somehow be a part of Westview’s Christmas traditions since moving there for work a year ago. You moved in around the end of November after you graduated, and your very first impression of the town was the all-around magical month of December. But last year, you travelled to see your family, and couldn’t stay for the planning nor the celebration.

This year, you were hosting, and that meant you could finally take part in the committee as you’d wanted to do last season, though you did end up joining late because you had to bring unexpected extra work home. 

Naturally, you were rather excited to be able to both take a break from work and do something fun, and to get more involved with Westview’s community. 

But upon your first committee meeting, you realized you weren’t expecting the committee was so… hierarchical.

You understood and even expected the hustle and bustle of assigned responsibilities and time-crunching, and even a few of the disagreements during the meetings and over the text groupchat which sometimes seemed a little hostile to you, so perhaps, to word it more accurately, what you hadn’t been expecting was Wanda Maximoff.

The committee worked by dividing volunteers into different sections of responsibility, involving those who worked with the small business, who handled the budgeting, the charity partnership, the performing bands, and many others.

Wanda Maximoff was the head of planning. She led the committee meetings, and she was the first one every divided section went to to discuss any changes or new ideas. Wanda could independently veto or approve any adjustment or suggestion, and knew everything about everything which not even the many of the divided sections knew about each other since they were too occupied with their own responsibilities. 

Being registered as a committee volunteer took an application which went through Westview’s municipal website — not the committee itself. 

Wanda had seen in her email that a new member had joined the committee. She’d never heard of you, and though she wasn’t particularly close to anyone in Westview, so she wouldn’t exactly be the first to know about social matters, she’d asked a few of the other executive planning volunteers, and they hadn’t heard of you either.  

A large reason you wanted to join the committee was to become more involved in Westview’s community. The past year after moving last November was far busier than you’d expected, and along with a promotion at work, you’d had far too many new responsibilities to adjust to to have enough time to socialize or involve yourself very much. 

With that being said, the upcoming holiday spent with the committee was going to be your first real involvement with the town and your community. 

The first meeting was okay. It was around the end of the first week of December, which by the committee’s speed, was still late for you to suddenly jump in and join like they’d been playing jump rope. The meeting was somewhat of a debrief about how far everyone had gotten, while bringing up any new ideas in moving forward. 

It was actually rather incredible to watch them all plan and discuss; they were diligent and all worked well with each other, and additionally, they were partnering with performers and vendors who were all local, which made planning everything in December possible. 

You figured Wanda was the head of the committee for how every conversation either ended or started with her, and if they didn’t involve her, and was far more focused on what each group was saying than anyone else.

You didn’t speak very much, so perhaps that was why you might’ve appeared as some kind of outlier, but truly, you didn’t have anything to say, and wouldn’t have had anything to say even if you tried. 

Though you understood the logic of being the odd one out, not much attention was drawn to you, likely because everyone was far too busy to pay you much attention — that is, aside from the busiest in the room. 

Circles don’t have heads at their tables, and yet, Wanda was very evidently sitting at it. With the side of her chin in her hand, her head tilted slightly in your direction, your eyes kept flickering over at her, and more than half of the times you did, her green eyes darted away immediately and looked back over at whomever was presently speaking. 

After the meeting, you chatted a little with some of the volunteers you were sitting beside, waiting patiently for a window in which you could approach Wanda. Everyone who was part of the committee was sorted into groups to take on different responsibilities, but you hadn’t been sorted yet, and it wasn’t mentioned in the meeting, which you understood given how busy everything was, so you were hoping Wanda could sort you.

Wanda was slinging her purse over her shoulder when you approached her, and when she turned around, there was just a single beat in which she seemed to be surveying you, as if a resolve to the brief glances she had taken of you from afar. 

You introduced yourself to her. 

“Y/N,” she acknowledged, without introducing herself in turn. “Your name was emailed to me this afternoon after you submitted your application two days ago.”

You looked at her wordlessly for a moment then nodded, as if hesitant. You were waiting for her to continue. What did she expect you to say to that?

You felt slightly belittled for how unwelcoming initially came across, and how her greeting only called you to initiate more of the conversation on your own. And she wasn’t even really acknowledging you, she was just stating a fact, as if she would’ve said the exact words to anyone else in any professional setting. 

‘The sky is blue, it’s wintertime, there are light traces of freckles along the bridge of my nose, and your name was emailed to me this afternoon,’ she seemed to be saying. 

“Cool,” you answered. It was an answer in the form of an itch; you felt you couldn’t respond to her with the cordiality you’d initially intended.

It wasn’t just the way she had spoken, for you didn’t expect any obligation for any specific form of kindness. She was the head of the committee, and no doubt extremely busy and extremely stressed, and you were late to join, after all. 

So you put aside the way she was looking at you, in the bored and scrutinizing way she was, and how she kept looking over at you during the meeting only to say little to nothing welcoming or friendly upon your official introduction. 

If you knew Wanda well enough, not that many did, you would’ve noticed the narrowing of her eyes visible only by a slight twitch at the corner of them. 

Cool. 

“I was wondering how I’d be able to figure out what I should start helping with,” you told her. You hoped feigning curiosity would give yourself a good impression — you already knew it was Wanda who was assigned roles. 

“That depends,” she said, her focus not at all on you as she reached into her purse to take her car keys out. She looked back up at you. “Are you good at anything?”

For a moment, you genuinely questioned if you had done something wrong, and then you quickly realized it isn’t at all your responsibility to baby a grown woman. 

You repeated, genuinely confused and not willing to intentionally leave a bad impression this early into your volunteering, “Am I good at anything?”

“Are you good at anything discussed during the meeting?” she clarified, her expression remaining still and unimpressed.

“I wouldn’t know,” you answered, “this is my first time here. Wasn’t that mentioned in the email?”

Wanda looked to the side thoughtfully, as if thinking something over, but the slight rising of her shoulders as she took in a breath indicated irritation. Then she looked back at you. “It was. But I assumed you had some prior experience, perhaps from your own job or volunteering experience.”

Something uncomfortable and tense tightened in your stomach. It wasn’t as if she was saying anything particularly rude, but you knew it was meant to be somewhat offensive, if not purposefully condescending. 

“We’re always a bit rushed in booking the performances, so if that’s something that interests you, you can help with that,” she finally offered. “I’ll give you Kate’s number so you can contact her and make some plans to meet up on your own time during the week.”

After you received a Kate Bishop’s number, you tucked your pride away and thanked Wanda for her help, only to look up from your phone and find her approached by a man around her age whose face you recognized from the meeting, who she immediately looked far more friendly with.

You weren't planning on sticking around to stand idly watching the coldest woman you’ve met in Westview so far since you moved last November act all buddy-buddy with someone else right in front of you, but the transition from speaking to you to speaking with the man was far too stark to not notice the differences, even for the split second you stood there for.

He placed his hand on the table behind her, to which Wanda turned, leaning against the table and looking up at him as they spoke. A gold wedding band adorned the finger of the man’s hand which you noticed was placed on the table, and you assumed he was her husband. 

For a moment as you turned to leave, you sympathized with Wanda, who you could now envision as a stressed and overworked woman who was glad to see her husband after a long day. 

Perhaps it was just thinking over the bizarre contrast between her interactions with you and the immediate friendly demeanour she took with the man that made you turn your head back as you walked away, just to reconstruct her first impression on you. But when you turned, you realized she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring at all.

You were slightly confused and perhaps a little intrigued, but not at all invested enough to think about that nor about Wanda Maximoff at all by the time you left the building. When you got into the driver’s seat of your car, you sent Kate Bishop a text message introducing yourself and explaining how you got her number and for what reason, then headed home, eager to finally lay down.

By the time you were on the road, driving down the decorated light poles and storefronts, and down the snowy, sparkling white sidewalks and roofs, you forgot all about Wanda and that dreadful first interaction.

Two days later, you met up with the group within the committee which handled the preparation of the performances. You didn’t know who you were expecting to see once you met up at one of Westview’s cafes to plan and discuss, but you certainly weren’t expecting a group that was composed of only college students.

You weren’t much older than them — you finished your postgrad last year — but you were younger than Wanda, and maybe it was just because you harboured some remnants of bitterness for her, but you almost thought the group she suggested to you was intentional.

After an hour of conversing with them, however, you realized you were being far too obsessive with your first interaction with Wanda to have even had that thought upon meeting them, because you actually ended up having likely one of the first thoroughly enjoyable times with a group of people from your town.

Along with Kate, you were grouped with her friends America, Peter, and Kamala. If you were honest with yourself, you felt a little insecure about your age while being around them, listening to them discuss school while you’d been working for a year since graduation. But you felt, and they assured you once you mentioned it to them half-jokingly, that you honestly blended in just fine.

In fact, Peter very seriously thought you were in his history class this past semester.

But in a way, that made you feel a little bashful — did you still look like a college student, and not at all like the professional you thought you’d been becoming throughout the past year?

Is that what you looked like to Wanda that day you first met?

You didn’t see Wanda again until the next committee meeting, which you found out took place twice a week. Only the first meeting was mandatory, and the other was optional for any pressing questions, and also provided a window for opportunity to speed up the planning if anyone had any extra time to do so.

After the last few days meeting with your group and talking a little over the groupchat between all of you, you found yourself in a particularly good mood, and it was hard to stay sour in Westview when it was winter, getting closer and closer to Christmas each day.

You wanted to make a good impression and wanted to make some room for having further conversation with other volunteers, so you stopped by a cafe and bought a box of twelve fresh muffins. There were about two times that amount of people in the committee, but you were certain not everyone would want one, and you also weren’t sure how permitted it was to bring food to the meetings. 

You were planning on arriving early and placing the muffins on the table with a little note to take one, with an easy in and out without being seen. You didn’t want to be seen bringing the muffins in because you figured you’d end up behaving far too awkward in the act, effectively outweighing any possibility of having the first impression you wanted. 

If someone brought the muffins up, or offered you one, you were planning on somehow subtly bringing up that you were the one who brought them.

After setting the box down on the edge of the meeting room table, you placed the sticky note you wrote on top of it. You turned to head out the door, planning on waiting in the car for others to arrive before reentering, only to come across Wanda on your way out. 

She had her chin tucked into her scarf, and a knitted hat on, looking rather cozy and warm in her jacket, the purse which you saw her carry last week hanging from her shoulder. At the sight of you, and at how you slowed down as you passed her, she untucked half her face from her scarf and took her hat off, causing her brown hair to frizz up as she pulled it off.

Combing her fingers through the top of her head to smooth her hair down, she said, “You’re early. Heading out?”

“O-Oh…” you stuttered, feeling awkward.

You weighed the risk of telling her you brought muffins, since you didn’t know if bringing food was allowed. And wouldn’t you look even far more awkward if food was allowed, and you were running away from a box of muffins as if you’d just wired in a bomb?

Wanda continued to look at you expectantly, slowly unwrapping her scarf from around her neck, which distracted you from making a decision about what to tell her, for whatever reason.

“I brought muffins,” you suddenly said.

She blinked, eyes darting down at your empty hands which laid limp at your sides, then to your back and shoulders, which was devoid of any bag to carry any muffins in.

“I already put it in the meeting room.”

“It’s already in there?” she asked.

You nodded once.

“Then where are you going? Aren’t you staying for the meeting?”

Did she question everyone this seriously? Couldn’t she at least smile a little or give you a little laugh to ease the tension?

“I am. I just… forgot something in my car.”

Wanda looked at you for a moment, and surprisingly, it didn’t look like she was scrutinizing you. It looked like she was thinking something over. She looked in the direction of the meeting room, and you took the time to look at her ring finger. She wasn’t married.

“Why did you bring muffins?” she then asked, looking back over to you and putting her hat into her purse and holding her scarf.

You opened your mouth and promptly shut it, realizing all you knew to do in the moment was stutter, so you stayed quiet for a moment to think of what to say so as to not look like an idiot. “I just wanted to do something nice, I guess,” you said.

“Really?” Wanda said, her eyebrows raising ever so slightly, seemingly surprised. “I see.” She made some kind of noise, like a hum, and looked away into the general direction of the meeting room. 

Then she undid her jacket, looking at you only briefly and saying a few words before heading into the building: “Well, I won’t keep you from going back to your car. I’ll see you.”

When you thought back to how Wanda had kept looking over to you during the first meeting you attended, you imagined that she was interested in you because it was her first time seeing you, and figured she was likely that way with everyone who initially joined. 

Naturally, that meant that after conversing with her and proving yourself as able to reliably contribute to your group, you imagined she would treat you like any other member, and after that, you’d come to realize that you’d been thinking about her in a rather overdramatic fashion.

But instead, Wanda seemed to pay you even more attention. You caught her staring far more often, though this time, it was hard to justify this as stealing glances when you were actually part of a group this time. She made unwavering eye contact with you when you spoke, which she didn’t do with anyone else. She picked at your suggestions and progress reports more than anyone else in your group.

This time around, you genuinely started to feel rather frustrated. You’d been enjoying your last few days in Westview with your group, and were looking forward to the rest of the month, and had initially believed that your irritating interactions with Wanda were more or less made up by your imagination.

But this all seemed far too targeted to be coincidental.

You were even too irritated during the meeting to pay attention to anyone who was enjoying the muffins you brought — which was, unbeknownst to you, quite popular amongst the members. You told Kamala about the muffins when you’d bought them, since you asked her about where to go for the best ones, so she was able to drop your name to other members a few times.

After the meeting, Wanda was talking with the same man who approached her after the meeting last week — the same married man.

“Can I talk to you, Wanda?” you interrupted their conversation the moment you heard the briefest gap in their conversation. She looked over to you, along with the man, who for some reason irritated you far more than she did in the moment.

They exchanged a few last words before parting, and Wanda turned to you, adjusting her scarf. “What did you need to talk about?” she asked.

You had hoped she was planning on talking in a more private place, but she didn’t move anywhere else, and stayed more or less in the vicinity of traffic of people who were leaving. If she didn’t want to put any effort in nor give any indication that she cared about interacting with you, then you’d have the conversation right there.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you asked. 

For the first time, Wanda wore an expression around you that was other than bored and unimpressed, looking somewhere between entertained and surprised. “I’m sorry?”

“You asked me more questions about my group than anyone else I’m paired with, and more than anyone else in the committee,” you told her. 

“It bothers you to be favoured?”

You flinched back a little, as if the word ‘favoured’ had physically nudged you backwards. “F… Favoured?”

“Y/N…” Wanda let out a little exhale that you knew was a repressed sigh. “This is your first year volunteering. It is not unreasonable nor should it be threatening to you that I want to ensure you’re playing your part within your group. And I want to make sure you’re getting along well with everything.”

“You’re overdoing it,” you quickly replied. “I joined only a week late, and if you think I need more monitoring than any other volunteer, you’re not focusing your attention on the right things. You don’t think I notice that you look at me even when I’m not the one talking?”

In the split second of silence between your second last sentence and your final one, Wanda opened her mouth to respond, but quickly shut it when you mentioned how she kept looking at you. Her jaw seemed to tense and she adjusted her purse on her shoulder, her eyes darting over to the side for a brief moment.

“To each their own, Y/N,” she replied simply. “Either way, if you’re getting along with everything well, what I do shouldn’t bother you as much as it does. Everything is getting done on time, isn’t it? What more could you ask for?”

She likely had wanted the conversation to stop with a rhetorical question, but if she was really asking, then you were really going to answer. “I want to ask for you to stop treating the committee like it’s some kind of tyranny. You know, people come here in their spare time, away from their families and their homes to do something nice.”

Wanda visibly tensed, and she seemed to be fidgeting when her other hand moved to the front of her jacket to tug at the edge of her scarf. Perhaps she simply didn’t like confrontation. You wondered when the last time anyone confronted her was, and then you wondered when she’d given anyone but you a reason to confront her. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she apologized disingenuously, clearly just wanting to end the conversation. You wondered if she had plans to get to, and at the thought that she was just in a rush to go meet that married man at some dingy motel, you exhaled through your nose with visible irritation.

You attended the following optional meeting because America wanted to discuss the possibility of including one of the bands at the college she went to into the performance setlist, so it was just you and her out of your group that attended. Typically, they partnered with more local bands, but America really liked them, and she was certain she could have them perform for cheaper than the usual bands they invited if they paid for their trip here.

Upon arriving, you noticed that there were a few pastries set out on the table, and thermos of hot chocolate and some paper cups and lids, which some members were helping themselves to as they settled in. Everyone was warming up with the hot chocolate, and looking delightfully surprised at the selection of pastries since a storm was beginning to come down outside as they all drove in.

“Y/N, dear, you had the right idea bringing muffins the other day,” Mrs Davis gushed as she approached you from behind, a hand on your upper arm. “Everyone is always so hungry at the evening meetings, since some of us have to squeeze them in before dinner.”

America looked amused at your confusion as your eyes darted between the pasties and hot chocolate and Mrs Davis. She knew you felt a little confused and preoccupied by being drilled by Wanda — though you chose not to share how much she irritated you — so she knew that you hadn’t paid attention to how popular the muffins were last meeting, or how Kamala mentioned to others that you brought them.

“Oh,” you replied with a friendly albeit confused smile. “Did you bring these?”

“I bought the hot chocolate, but Rio and Agatha brought the pastries,” she answered with a beaming smile. 

An excited and warm feeling grew in your chest at the thought that you’d started a little tradition, which made you forget all about how confused you initially were.

In spite of the cheery beginning and how the committee started out, chatting about each other’s holidays and preparations at home with their families, the meeting progressed with gradual confusion since Wanda still hadn’t shown up twenty minutes into the hour-long meeting. 

It wasn’t a good look on her, since a member of Westview’s municipal financial association had come to sit in to see how things were coming along since the committee was largely funded by them along with some other invested donors. 

By the twenty minute mark, everyone decided to begin speaking altogether and writing the biggest takeaways into a notebook, which would be provided to Wanda over text and in the committee groupchat. Things discussed in optional meetings weren’t always necessarily shared with the rest of the committee, since they were typically attended for more specific questions and planning, but it was Wanda who decided what should be made common knowledge, which she covered in the following meeting, or if it was pressing, she’d send it to the groupchat. But since she wasn’t there, it was decided that they’d record everything important that was covered, whether it was a resolved question or not.

Close to forty minutes into the meeting, Wanda arrived, looking a little frazzled, with her scarf and hat still on. She had tried to come in subtly but, perhaps intentionally, Rio called out, greeting her loudly. 

“I’m sorry for being so late,” she apologized, and you could detect a little breathlessness in her voice. She sat down and took her hat off, her hair frizzing up at the top like it did the other time she took her hat off. But she didn’t smooth it down before she undid her scarf, making her look even more frazzled.

As she looked around at the table and then at the notebook, and then at the municipal member sitting at the table, Wanda slid her jacket off and smoothed her hair out. “How… has everything been going?” she asked. She was then given a rundown from the notebook, Wanda nodding and listening carefully as it was all explained to her.

Throughout the rest of the meeting, you didn’t catch Wanda looking over at you even once.

The municipal member who had come to sit in pulled Wanda to the side after the meeting finished, engaging in a conversation which looked slightly serious from the other side of the room as you chatted with Mrs Davis and Rio and Agatha as they packed up their things while you and America helped. 

They all left as soon as possible, since Mrs Davis carpooled with Rio and Agatha on their way here, and the storm had suddenly come down rather heavy outside, so they were eager to get home quick before the visibility got any worse. America’s mothers were waiting outside for her, so you said goodbye to her too as you zipped up your jacket. 

By the time you headed out, Wanda was standing inside the building by the door, looking out through the windows at the side of the front door. She was back in her scarf and hat and bundled up jacket, so you weren’t sure why she was still hanging out at the front.

Upon getting a closer look at her as you continued to walk towards the exit, you noticed that Wanda looked genuinely stressed, unlike the other times you only assumed she was. She seemed anxious looking out the window, and seemingly tense in general. 

You looked outside the windows, and the snow was very quickly building, footsteps at least a few inches into the snow until they reached the ground, and a few people still getting into their cars, the sight of them blurring in the white veil of the blowing snow, shielded themselves from the wind, careful not to hit the other cars around them while opening their car doors.

“If you wait any longer to drive home, it’ll only be harder to get through the snow,” you said, stopping a few feet away from her. She jumped a little, turning her head to look at you and staring for just a moment before looking back through the window.

Her scarf was wrapped up to just below her nose, muffling her words slightly as she replied, “I’m waiting for an Uber.” 

“Huh? An Uber?” you asked. “No driver is driving around in a small town through a storm that just started. The salters haven’t even come out yet. Didn’t you drive here on your own?”

Wanda didn’t respond, and looked down between her phone — which you assumed she was tracking her driver through — and the window.

Though you were frustrated at her standoffishness and how she just completely ignored you, you inhaled sharply before pressing, “You should just call a friend or some family to pick you up. You’ll be waiting here at least forty minutes before your driver comes.”

“Incidentally, don’t you someplace to be?” Wanda suddenly asked sharply, turning her head around to look at you.

Your eyes narrowed and you adjusted your jacket, preparing for the winter storm. “Fine. Then I guess I’ll be seeing you at the next meeting — still waiting here for your Uber.”

She gave you a look as you walked past her and left the building.

You stormed off into the blizzard with enough anger that you were melting all the snow sprinkling down in your vicinity with how frustrated you felt, suddenly feeling like you were overheating in your jacket. 

There was something about Wanda that just really pissed you off, and even worse, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. After the meetings and when you were home, you hardly thought about her, and more often than not, you were ready to be friendly with her every time another meeting came around. But each time you interacted with her, she drilled herself further and further into your brain and buried herself there. 

There was just something irrational about how frustrated she made you that just sort of ate at you. You thought she looked so stupid in her scarf, and she looked like an idiot when she took her hat off and her hair was in a frizzy mess. 

And what was the deal with her and that married guy? She certainly wasn’t her brother or her friend with how close he got, and you could swear once you saw him brush his hand up against her hip — with the hand he had his ring on!

So, along with being just a dick, she was a stupid idiot who owned stupid scarves and stupid hats, and she was a homewrecker and a total anti-feminist for flirting with a married man.

Then, feeling frustrated and overwhelmed and not paying attention to your surroundings, you set your foot down on some ice and nearly slipped. You were flailing around and practically running in place desperately until your foot landed on the thick snow to give you enough friction to steady yourself.

And you knew it was irrational, but fuck, this was somehow all Wanda’s fault. 

You ripped your hat off, finally becoming overstimulated with it on, before sticking it in your jacket pocket. You looked back over at the building, and then at the parking lot which was very empty of an Uber driver, and you stormed back over to the front door. 

When you reentered the building, Wanda was still standing in the same spot, and when you turned to look at her, holding the door open from the inside, she looked up from her phone at you, confused.

“I’ll drive you home,” you told her bluntly. “Let’s go.”

She straightened, putting her phone in her pocket. “No, I’m waiting for my ride.”

“You’re not getting an Uber in this storm!”

“Well, I am. I already ordered one.”

You really weren’t planning on raising your voice, but you had nearly slipped on ice, and you needed to get out of your jacket, and Wanda looked so stupid with her scarf wrapped up around the lower half of her face.

“Wanda, let’s go!” you bit as if she were a child throwing a tantrum in a grocery store and you were her parent, who’d been patient for long enough.

She stared at you for a few moments, the whistling wind of the blizzard outside the only noise between the two of you. 

“Fine,” she finally mumbled, burying her face in her scarf and heading out the door. She waited a moment for you to exit the building behind her, before she followed behind you towards your car.

Wanda told you where she lived after she buckled herself in and you pulled out of the parking lot. She remained bundled in her hat and scarf. Maybe it was because Wanda hadn’t ever been in your car before, but she looked so tiny sitting in the passenger’s seat, half her head wrapped up in her plush scarf. 

But maybe she was making herself smaller, sinking into her jacket and the seat,

Taking in a small breath and trying to melt your frustration away in the warmth of your car, you asked softly, “Why were you late?”

Wanda shifted in her seat, folding her gloved hands in her lap. “My car broke down on the way here,” she explained. “I tried to stay around to get it towed, but I ended up having to leave it there because of how busy the towing company was. They suggested I get it done tomorrow morning instead.”

“How did you get to the meeting?”

“One woman came, but by the time she did, the car was already covered and far too stuck in the snow, and she couldn’t call anyone else. So she drove me.”

Maybe you got a little too excited at the thought that you were finally having a normal conversation with the woman who’d been irritating you so much, so you casually asked, “So, is that guy your husband?”

“What?” she asked, taken by surprise. She looked at you, the lower half of her face a little more uncovered. At the stoplight, you looked at her, seeing the bridge of her nose and her cheeks flushed a gentle pink from the warmth of her scarf.

Then you looked away and back at the road, feeling that you’d perhaps got ahead of yourself, and after thinking it over for a moment, you weren’t sure why that was the question that came out of you. You’d already come to the fine conclusion that Wanda was seeing a married man, but perhaps it was interacting with her normally that made you think for the first time that such a thing might be uncharacteristic of her.

“No, he’s not,” she finally answered. “I’m not married.”

You decided not to mention it again. You had already known that Wanda wasn’t married to him, and you weren’t really interested in knowing more about her love life. Actually, the idea that Wanda even had a love life made you a little uncomfortable. The idea that she could act in any way other than how you’d already witnessed her, and instead, as romantic and affectionate, was somehow startling.

“You should probably cancel that Uber,” you told her.

There were a few moments of silence, and you figured Wanda was cancelling the drive since you weren’t paying attention to what she was doing. Then, she said quietly, “I never got a driver. No one picked it up.”

You looked over at her for a second and she was still sunken down into her jacket, looking straight ahead at the road, whose visibility was becoming steadily worse as the storm progressed. “So… were you waiting for someone?”

“I was…” She sounded like she was thinking something through. “I was just waiting for the storm to die down before I tried to go home.”

“I’m sure one of your friends or some of your family would’ve come to pick you up,” you told her, thinking that she was the kind that was against asking people for help.

You were beginning to realize that Wanda always seemed a little tense each time you brought up any mention of family, so you didn’t press any further when she was silent in response to what you said. 

When you arrived at her place, you offered to help her out of the car, but she said she was fine to get out on her own. She closed the door behind her and walked around to your window. Though you felt a little put on the spot, you rolled the window down. 

You couldn’t really see her expression beyond her plush scarf still covering everything below the tip of her nose, but she looked just a little awkward as she looked at you, her gaze seeming uncertain and hesitant. 

“Thank you for driving me,” she said, and you couldn’t tell if she was purposefully mumbling or if her scarf was muffling her words. 

Suddenly you felt a little awkward, and your chest felt fluttery. “You’re welcome,” you answered.

“And I don’t know if you really care about these things, but everything I’ve heard about you from the committee has been very positive.”

“Oh.”

“They all say you’re very kind and responsible and friendly. And everyone thought it was really sweet that you brought the muffins earlier this week.”

You didn't want to say oh again, but you honestly didn’t know what else to say. You felt like you were put on the spot, and more than that, your face felt warm. “Oh. Okay. I see.”

Wanda blinked then looked away for a moment as if thinking of something else to say, though her expression was still and unmoving. But then she looked back at you and said, “Thank you for driving. I’ll see you next week.” Then you waited until she got into her house before you pulled out of her driveway and headed back home as soon as you could, getting out of the storm.

The next time you met up with your group, there was just under two weeks left until Christmas, and you were all making perfect time, and from what you’d been hearing, so were the other groups. 

“Did you see all the changes Wanda made to our document?” Kate asked as you all settled down in a booth from picking your drinks up at the counter.

You looked up from your mug.

“Changes?” Peter asked, sounding slightly whiny. “I thought our setlist and budgeting was perfect.”

Kate huffed as she scrolled down the Google Doc. “Yeah, but at least she only changed little things,” she said, leaning forward and reading the screen. 

“Like what?” Kamala asked, scooping some whipped cream from her hot chocolate with a spoon and sticking it into her mouth.

A small confused frown formed on Kate’s face. “Just, like… the songs and the order of the bands. And the accessories they were going to wear.”

“She didn’t change any of the actual bands?” America asked.

Kamala added, probably as some sort of inside joke, “Or relocate our spendings?”

“Umm…” Kate scrolled through the document again, double-checking. “Nope. None of that. She just fixed around random things.”

You didn’t really like talking about Wanda with them, because you were still partly convinced that you were just making it all up, and you were just being overly irritated around her. But you still couldn’t really pinpoint why she got under your skin so much.

Taking a sip of your drink and trying not to sound so invested in the topic of her, you asked as nonchalantly as you could, “Does she normally do all the other stuff?”

“Yeah, last year she relocated a bunch of our funding to a different group, then changed around the setlist we scheduled,” Kamala answered, setting her mug down, revealing a white rim of whipped cream along her upper lip.

Kate jutted her hand into the middle of the table, holding all five fingers up. “Five days before Christmas, by the way,” she added, eyebrows raised. “And we had to call the bands to tell them that their performance times had changed, which luckily didn’t conflict with anything, and we also had to cut way down on a whole lot of other things we were planning, and it was just…  a mess.”

“Oh,” you said, somewhat shocked at hearing the things she did last year. You already thought she could be rather tyrannical, but you wouldn’t have expected her to go into a group’s plans and change so much without notice.

“I thought she’s been sorta nicer this year,” Peter said, snapping his Biscoff cookie in half and taking a bite of one the halves.

Kamala suddenly gasped and leaned forward, her hands making contact with the table, effectively gaining the group’s attention. “Wait, is it true that she got in trouble at the last meeting for coming late?”

America nodded, “Yeah, because she was forty minutes late, and a woman from the town council came to the meeting.”

“She was late?” Kate asked, looking up from her laptop. “I guess that’s surprising for her, but why did she get in trouble for that?”

Peter mentioned, “Ned’s uncle works in Westview’s financial department, and he told me that the committee was behind in reporting the budgeting.”

“Oh,” America added, “the woman told me she was from the same department. So… I guess the tardiness was just the cherry on top.”

On the way back home from the cafe, you thought about how little you actually knew about Wanda from the meetings, and upon reflecting on your conversation in the car, you realized you didn’t get to learn much about her then, either. 

Something about that made you feel a little impatient, with Wanda seeming more and more like some enigma you were compelled to understand. You enjoyed seeing her that way more than you previously saw her since you could see her as more of a mystery than a weight on your shoulders.

But you couldn’t deny how relieved it made you that you weren’t the only one she’d ever pissed off.

By the time of the next meeting, there was a week and half left until Christmas, and everything seemed to be progressing well with all the groups. Everything was scheduled to be finished on time, if not a little bit early.

Aside from the newly-developed tradition of bringing a few snacks and drinks to the meeting, everything went as it typically did, aside from the fact that Wanda looked almost… a little flustered when you caught her looking at you, though you caught her far less frequently than you did the times before.

Because of how little she spoke with the other committee members, you figured it was because she felt a little awkward having interacted with a member outside of the meeting. 

And you didn’t forget about how you snapped at her when she wouldn’t let you drive her at first. 

It was a little embarrassing to think back on, especially with how frustrated you were, but you ended up being able to drive her anyway, and she told you that everyone had a great impression of you, so it wasn’t all for nothing.

While looking at Wanda from across throughout the meeting, you felt sort of bad for her. 

After thinking about it a little bit, why didn’t she mention any friends or family helping her with her broken down car? Or after the fact, once the meeting finished? Even if she was the kind to be against asking people for help, it must say something about her loved ones that she felt she couldn’t rely on them for help.

Then there was the matter about how she always looked a little uncomfortable when you mentioned family.

As much as you hated thinking about her love life for a reason you couldn’t entirely understand — though you were sure it was because it still felt strange for you to imagine Wanda could be in a relationship — it was a little depressing to imagine that the only person she’d been spending her holidays with was a married man.

Being the head of the planning committee for Westview’s busiest and largest holiday was a lot to handle, and volunteering was still something everyone did in their spare time, so the possibility that she could very well have dozens of other far more pressing things in her life going on, only to be reprimanded by someone representing the committee’s funding, couldn’t be very easy for her.

After the meeting, you approached her, and as you did, you came to the realization that you spoke with her at the end of every meeting you attended so far, and not even the married guy did that.

“Wanda, I was wondering if I could get your help with something,” you said as you stopped at her side while she was slipping a few papers into her purse. 

She hung her purse from her shoulder and turned to you. “With what?” she replied simply.

Although Wanda still hadn’t given you as much as a single smile so far, you thought you made a little progress, given that you also somewhat expected her to take your request for her help as indicative of your inability to keep up with the rest of your group.

As you walked out to the parking lot together, you explained, “Rio and Agatha’s group asked me for a little bit of help with planning the decorating of the performance patio since they were a little behind, and they thought I would know the best way to decorate since we’re planning the performers’ outfits.”

“They didn’t have to ask you, they could’ve just spoken with your group.”

“They did, but everyone else was busy. I have the least to do in the group since they all fit me in to do anything extra. And it’s not a big deal, I just wanted to discuss budgeting stuff with you.”

Wanda stared down at the snowy ground as she walked forward. Then she looked up and over at you. “Alright. We can meet when you’re free to ask me anything you want.”

Although you technically already had Wanda’s number since the committee groupchat was made through WhatsApp, she gave you her number anyway, perhaps not realizing that you already had it through the groupchat. And there was something about Wanda giving you her number that made you feel a little excited.

But what made you even more excited was that Wanda used one smiley face over text when you planned to meet up. 

That was basically a real life smile.

You decided to come early to your lunch with Wanda on the Saturday which you both planned to meet for. You were ten minutes early, but by the time you arrived, Wanda was already sitting at a table with a cup of coffee.

You rechecked the time, and you were indeed ten minutes early.

“Hi, I’m here,” you greeted as you stopped at the chair that was opposite of Wanda, taking off your jacket and hanging it from the back of it. “Have you been here very long?”

In the same way that she looked in your car, Wanda seemed tiny sitting at the table with her cup of coffee and wearing clothes that were a little more casual than those which she wore to the meetings. Maybe she always just seemed much larger to you in the context of the meetings, since she didn’t even really behave the same way outside of them.

“Hi,” she greeted back first. “I’ve been here for maybe fifteen minutes. I thought I would come early too.”

You took a seat and looked around at the place. It was primarily a cafe, but known for its cheap and delicious breakfast sandwiches, so it was also known as a breakfast location, but in the afternoon, as a proper cafe. You hadn’t been yet, but Peter had been queuing this place up to go the next time your group had to meet.

As you looked around, Wanda watched you, her fingers rubbing against the side of her warm mug, feeling a little nervous. When you looked back to the side of the cafe that was behind her and into her general vicinity, her eyes darted back down to her coffee.

Wanda didn’t know anything about you by the first meeting, but she was immediately drawn to how you seemed to her. You were curious, always looking around at the table, and very attractive. She knew immediately that you were going to do quite well at whatever you wanted to put your time towards. 

Truthfully, Wanda has never been good with socializing. She was good at planning and being professional in a way that other people hated enough so that she never really had to worry about being close with others. 

It wasn’t lost on her how you’d approached her at the end of every meeting, if not only to speak to her with some hostility. She noticed how sweet you were to the other members, and how well you were already getting along with everyone. Though she figured that anyone she asked would have said all those things she mentioned to you after you drove her to her place, she actually hadn’t been told anything about you. She just didn’t know how else to talk to you in that way.

No one really told Wanda anything in the social context; she wasn’t ever really wanted or thought about unless it was necessitated.

Truthfully, she didn’t feel jealous about how popular you were, but instead, she felt rather nervous to be around you. It felt similar to feelings of insecurity, if she really thought about it.

She decided to come to the cafe early to try and prepare herself for lunch with you, since she would’ve felt even worse panicking away at home or alone in the car. God, what did people even talk about over lunch? She couldn’t even remember the last time she met someone in such a casual context. It felt somewhat casual anyway, although you had asked her to discuss some of your committee responsibilities.

“Do you mind if we get some food before we talk about the budgeting?” you asked, and when Wanda looked up from her coffee, you were making eye contact with her. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

She nodded. 

You trailed off as you flipped through the menu, and when you noticed she didn’t have a menu open, you looked up at her. “Are you getting anything?”

“Oh. I know what I want.”

“Were you really here for that long?”

“I come here sometimes for breakfast if I wake up early enough.”

The image of Wanda coming in here for breakfast while bundled up in her cozy hat and plush scarf at nine in the morning kind of made you wanna tease her for such an adorable routine. Well, you told yourself it was adorable for her, at least. Breakfast restaurants were pretty popular in many contexts, for many people. But for whatever reason, you liked to imagine Wanda doing things like that.

The food came and you found yourself observing her as if she were some kind of specimen. It was interesting to watch her do things that didn’t have anything to do with the committee or planning or being a little tyrannical. Everything she did outside of that was interesting, like how she held her utensils or which part of her plate she ate first, or after how many bites she took a sip of her coffee.

“So, what do you do when you’re not volunteering?” you asked.

“I teach at a high school about thirty minutes outside of Westview.”

Damn. She must not be very popular there, either. You weren’t even trying to be rude by thinking that; if you were a high school student, you certainly wouldn’t have liked her.

“What do you teach?” 

But before she could answer, you quickly interjected, “Oh, wait, let me guess.”

She closed her mouth and smiled slightly, looking like she thought you were sort of entertaining or funny. “Okay,” she replied softly. “Guess.”

You hummed, looking at her in great detail as you thought over all that you knew of her. Wanda shifted in her seat, tugging at the bottom of her knit sweater and tucking her hair back, feeling a little awkward and insecure with you looking at her.

With a slight narrow of your eyes, you spun your fork between three fingers. “Can I ask you a question so I can make a better guess?”

“Sure.”

“Are you good with technology?”

“In what way?”

You clarified, “Do you know how to reset your wifi router?”

She looked up and to the side for a moment, trying to imagine what she would do if her wifi went out. “No, I don’t think I’d know how to. But I could likely figure it out on my own,” she answered, looking back at you. “And that’s far more than one question.”

“Do you teach English?”

A gentle smile formed on Wanda’s and then she nodded. “Yes.”

It wasn’t that English teachers seemed technologically unknowledgeable, but if Wanda did know how to reset her wifi router, she’d likely teach history or maybe even some kind of science. She thought that was funny. She didn’t laugh to indicate that, she told you that it was, with a little smile.

You then told Wanda what you worked as. At the moment, you were doing some research after your postgrad, hopefully to be able to do some further research abroad in preparation for… something or other. You weren’t entirely sure right now.

Wanda was actually quite soft-spoken, and a little shy. She always looked like she wanted to say something more than what she had already said, or was thinking something more and didn’t entirely know how to say it.

After you finished eating, it was you who finally brought up the budgeting although you had honestly only used it as an excuse to get to know her more. After that, it was pretty much just committee talk.

”Do you have any plans for the holidays?” you asked her as you packed up your things. You paid for lunch, since you had asked her to take time out of her day to answer your questions. 

Wanda hummed as she fit her hat on then did her jacket up. “I won’t be too busy. Usually, I call my family and celebrate on my own.”

“Call them?” you repeated. “Do they live far?”

“They live in Eastern Europe.”

“Do they ever travel to visit you?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments as the both of you stepped out of the cafe. “No. They prefer not to travel. They say they’re waiting for my brother and I to save up and host them here so they can live in America. “

So, could that married guy have been her brother? 

“Does your brother live in Westview?”

“No, he travels around. I don’t think he has plans to save up for them any time soon.”

You felt a little idiotic for being so invested in that man’s relation to her, and you were suddenly uninterested in talking with her any longer. After all, that guy was probably her boyfriend, and she was probably taken aback in the car the other day when you asked her about her affair. 

But it shouldn’t even matter to you whether Wanda was dating anyone. 

Maybe you’d suddenly become a huge ethicist during the holidays, and just subconsciously hated women who had affairs with married men. 

“Well, thanks for helping me with the budgeting,” you said, turning to her once you got to your car. 

Wanda looked at you first, seemingly confused for just a beat, before she looked at your car, which she recognized from the time you drove her. She realized she hadn’t really been paying attention to what she was doing; she’d only been following wherever you were going. 

“Oh, yes, right.” She collected herself, brushing invisible snow from her jacket. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you next week.”

Then when you were preparing to turn and unlock your door, Wanda stepped back to leave but hesitated a little, so you figured she had something more to say. 

She looked over to where her car was, then down to the ground and back to you. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch. Have a good rest of your weekend.”

By the next meeting, there was a week left until Christmas, and things were beginning to wrap up. There were only two meetings left, and the final one wasn’t set for any planning. 

The final meeting, since everything had been moving ahead of schedule so far, was going to be reserved for a committee potluck, and any of the committee members could bring their friends or family as long as the volunteers were planning on bringing enough food. 

No one wanted to fall behind lest they lose the date of the potluck, and so the groupchat had recently been busy with updates as groups remained on time or even ahead of time, and the present meeting was no exception. 

Wanda seemed to have gotten word of how the committee heard that she was reprimanded for being behind in reports, so she made an update on all the things she’d sent to Westview’s council as confirmation to everyone and to ensure that she’d sent accurate information. 

Your group was all but finished aside from needing to buy the accessories for the performers, which would just be some bracelets and Santa hats and other small things which unified them as they all performed for the same event. Kamala and America were planning on shopping for them this weekend, and would bring them to the potluck to keep them there until they were taken out of storage for Christmas Eve.

The other groups were all caught up and were just waiting on tiny things, like how the group handling the small businesses were waiting on finalized menu prices for budgeting, which would also be finished this weekend.

Rio and Agatha’s group had finished their patio designs too.

Wanda wasn’t under any impression that you purposefully came up to her at the end of every meeting, and she was more than understanding of the fact that they were just coincidences, or due to reasons that came up which required you to speak with her. It wasn’t like you wanted to.

She was sort of hoping you had a reason to speak with her this time around too, but she didn’t think you had any issues with your group or with things you needed to do for the committee like you did before.

Wanda walked out to her car, trying to accept that she wouldn’t see you again until the next major planning committee event you could attend. She wasn’t planning on going to the next meeting’s potluck, and she wasn’t planning on going to the event on Christmas Eve either. She didn’t really go to those things.

You sounded busy during the year when you explained your job to her, and who knew if you’d be in Westview for next Christmas? Not that she was any thrill to have in your company anyway; she hardly knew how to keep an interesting conversation.

She exhaled a little in the driver’s seat, slumping down into her jacket.

It wasn’t often that anyone gave her their time. She thought the way she regarded you was a little pathetic, since it was clear you saw her as your committee head and nothing more. 

Wanda started her car and headed home. She would be finished with her work by tonight before the potluck, since all the other things that remained to be done didn’t involve her reports. The rest of her plans for the holidays involved buying gifts for her family and shipping them through the post. On Christmas, she’d call her parents then talk to her brother, who likely wouldn’t be in the mood to speak with them in a group call.

Then she’d celebrate New Years’ at home alone, and in January, begin a new school semester.

The day of the potluck came, and it was the first year everything had been done not only early, but as exciting as it all was; this year was imagined to be the most thrilling one so far. The blizzard had brought in inches and inches of snow which had been a pain for anyone stuck in it while it had been happening, but a dream to wake up to by the next morning once it stopped.

Westview was decorated in a winter you often saw in the movies, and everyone at the committee was in a wonderful mood.

You waited for Wanda to show up, wondering what kind of food she’d bring, and hoping to see her in a casual setting again. You wondered if she would wear her committee meeting clothes or something more comfortable. But a part of you also kind of dreaded seeing her around the married guy, whose name you found out today was Simon, because it seemed that he brought his wife to the potluck.

But by the thirty minute mark, Wanda still hadn’t shown up. 

“Do you think Wanda will come?” you asked Kate.

She shook her head. “She doesn’t come to these things. She never comes on Christmas Eve either.”

“What? Really? But she’s the head of the committee. I thought she’d at least show up to the event since she put so much time into it.”

Kate hummed, thinking about that for a moment. “Yeah, I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I always just assumed she travels or something.”

You looked around at the food, thinking back on all the times pastries and other drinks were brought to the meetings, and you couldn’t recall if Wanda ever partook in them. You looked up at Simon, who was chatting away with his wife.

Some part of you imagined some grand gesture where Wanda came to the potluck though she typically didn’t attend, but you were almost entirely sure she wasn’t going to. From what you had learned about her in the last few times you spoke with her on your own together, Wanda seemed a lot more hesitant than one would guess. 

You took two of the takeout boxes someone had brought in case there was going to be leftovers — and there was certainly going to be — to take to Wanda. One box was full of a normal dinner, like some of the rolls, turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes and gravy. Then in the other box, you packed some dessert, like cookies, pastries, and some candied fruit.

Then you made your way to her place.

Maybe she had company over, like her actual boyfriend, but in any case, you were fine just dropping the food off and handing it to her. And you didn’t want to call, because you didn’t think you were that close with her, and you didn’t want to assume she was comfortable with you calling her out of the blue.

Her car was alone in front of her place, and it didn’t look like she’d pulled out of her driveway since at least last evening given how much it’d snowed over her tire tracks.

You knocked on her door, and after a few moments the door opened, revealing Wanda in sweatpants and a thin plain black t-shirt.

“Y/N,” she firstly greeted, surprised as she pushed the door open further at the sight of you. “Did we talk about meeting?”

“No, nothing like that.” You held the two takeout boxes out. “I just thought you’d come to the potluck.”

She looked down at the boxes, reaching her hands out hesitantly to take them, then retracting her hands so they froze halfway to them. “Are these for me? What are they?” she asked, looking at you.

“It’s the food from the potluck. I brought you dinner and a bunch of dessert.”

“O-Oh, you… really didn’t have to bring me this…” she answered, her voice softening as she looked back down to the boxes and carefully took them from you. She looked back up and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

After a moment of brief silence which made you quite nervous, since it was very awkward to be standing in silence in front of Wanda, you stepped back. “Well, I’ll see you on Christmas Eve then,” you said.

She stepped forward. “Would you like to come in, Y/N?” she asked suddenly. 

When you made eye contact with her again, Wanda looked down at the boxes in her hands. “I just made some coffee and I was planning on doing some reading, but…” She looked up. “I made enough for two, and I haven’t had dinner yet.”

You swallowed, feeling somewhat nervous. “If you don’t mind.”

Wanda’s shoulders straightened, her expression lightening. “I don’t mind at all. Please come in,” she invited, stepping back and allowing you to enter. 

As you stepped inside and Wanda took your jacket, she took silent deep breaths as she prepared herself to have a proper conversation with you. 

“So…” she started as she walked you into the kitchen, pouring you a mug of coffee. “What are you planning on doing for Christmas, Y/N?” 

You stood a few feet away from Wanda as she poured you her coffee, watching her. She asked you what you liked in your coffee, and she stirred it in. She looked kind of… cute in what she was wearing. She looked kind of cute looking all domestic.

You scratched your cheek awkwardly, looking away as you answered, “Well, this year my family is coming to Westview and I’m hosting Christmas this time. So I’ve been decorating my place and thinking through some things to make for dinner.”

She carefully placed the coffee in front of you and began plating the food you brought her from the potluck.

“That sounds sweet,” she said. “I hope you enjoy hosting.”

“Do you have any Christmas traditions?”

She hummed in thought as she closed the boxes. “When I still lived with my parents, we volunteered at a soup kitchen, then came home and had late dinner. After we ate, we opened our gifts, then watched a movie as a family.”

You smiled a little as she described it. 

Wanda brought her coffee and plate to the dining table, and you brought your own coffee and a platter of peppermint cookies which she said she made yesterday. 

Wanda’s house was decorated with string lights, and she had a few unscented candles lit around the house. Her place smelled like cookies and a little bit of cinnamon, and you figured she must bake a lot in her freetime. In the living room, which you passed on your way to the kitchen, she had a large tree in front of the window decorated with gold, white, and pink.

It was kind of cute to imagine her decorating, and she was obviously far more festive than you thought. But then you imagined her decorating such a grand thing all on her own, and that made you feel quite bad for her. Not that you didn’t think she couldn’t — she clearly could — but the idea of someone so alone during the holidays made you ache.

“You said your parents wanted to move to America?” you asked when you sat down at the dining table. You both sat on one side of a corner, closest to each other.

She took in a breath and took a sip of coffee. “Yes, I did say that,” she answered, setting her mug down then cutting a slicing bit of turkey. “But… I honestly don’t think they’re sincerely interested in moving anywhere.”

“And your brother?”

“He moves too much,” she answered. “I had to ask him to stay in one place for a month so I could deliver a gift to his address, but he just told me to send it to a post in Berlin, and he’ll fly over if he’s not in Germany anymore to pick it up whenever it’s been delivered.”

She looked up from her plate, watching you look around her place. She swallowed, playing with her fork a little bit. The candlelight from the dining table made your face look very smooth, and very warm.

Wanda rubbed her knuckle against the back of her cheek, feeling herself flush at the sight. “Um, Y/N,” she said, looking back down at her plate and cutting a piece of turkey just to keep occupied. “I’ve been thinking…”

You looked away from her Christmas tree which you saw from a distance. It was beautiful, and Wanda truly had an eye for decorating. Even her furniture was gorgeous.

“I wanted to apologize for how I must’ve seemed to you when we first met. I mean… not how I seemed, exactly, but how I behaved…” She poked at the piece of turkey she sliced. “I’m… not very popular with the committee.”

Something fluttered in your chest, forcing you to take in a breath of air. Maybe it was guilt, or… Well, you were completely justified for how you acted around her before. 

But something about watching Wanda eat at the decorated table in the middle of her dining room in her gorgeous house, and imagining her doing this every evening for dinner alone made your chest tighten. 

Even in her own house, she seemed small. 

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?” 

She looked up from her plate, lowering her fork a little. She nodded. “Of course.”

“Are you seeing Simon?”

Wanda answered quickly, “No, I’m not seeing him.”

Before you could stop yourself from pushing too far, you added, “But he’s always flirting with you.”

She looked down at her plate again. “Yes, he’s…” She trailed off. She put her fork down and took a sip of coffee. “Simon is interested in me — of course I know that.”

“I’m just curious…” you spoke cautiously. “Why don't you see him if you know he’s flirting with you?”

“You’re asking because of his wife?”

When you blinked in response, Wanda figured you had no idea what she was talking about. She took a bite of her turkey, and after swallowing, she said, “His wife isn’t very subtle about her own affair. But I don’t think she concerns herself with what other people think of her; she’s some kind of lawyer, so she’s typically never in town.”

“You know a lot about everyone.”

To your surprise, Wanda laughed, though it was a dry one. “No. Simon just tells me.”

You nodded, taking a bite of a cookie. 

Wanda looked up when you didn’t respond, and she bit the inside of her cheek. She wondered if you felt as tense as she did whenever you brought Simon up. She fidgeted with the string of her sweatpants with her other hand. She never knew whether it was ever appropriate to say the things she had in mind. Often, she hesitated between telling you what she wanted to say and staying quiet. 

Swallowing, Wanda set her fork down and fidgeted with the handle of her mug. “I know it sounds terrible of me, but Simon always compliments my work as the committee head. That’s what he comes up to me after the meetings to talk about.”

“Oh,” you replied.

Still, the idea of Wanda getting all excited and romantic with some guy made you uncomfortable. It still made you upset that it frustrated you so much, and you wished you could look down on her for her questionable interactions with him, but you couldn’t help but just feel frustrated about it.

A small silence came over the two of you as Wanda looked down at her empty plate. She racked through her mind desperately for anything interesting to say. 

Then she looked up and asked, “What do you think about Agatha and Rio?”

You sipped your coffee, thankful for how beautiful Wanda’s house was since it gave you any excuse not to look at her for a few moments during moments of silence. “I think they’re nice together.”

“I think they are too,” Wanda replied, adjusting her fork and knife on her plate. She wanted to cry out and bury her face in her arms. She felt so pathetic; she had no idea how to have a conversation. You probably just wanted to go home already.

Even so, she tried to keep talking with you. 

“But Rio doesn’t like me very much.”

You looked over at her, recalling the time Rio called Wanda’s name loudly when she had come in forty minutes late though she had been trying to walk in subtly. “I had a feeling,” you said. “Why not?”

“I saw Agatha for a very short time, and I didn’t know she and Rio were on a break,” she explained. “Agatha told me they were on a break after she and Rio made up, but I didn’t know beforehand.”

Something about that was incredibly funny to you, because Rio and Agatha seemed inseparable, and to imagine that Wanda, of all people, had somehow gotten between them was extremely funny.

Wanda looked up from her plate, her lips parted slightly as she watched you for a moment while you laughed out loud. She felt her heart in her throat at the sight of you. She’d never seen you laugh that hard, and she didn’t think herself to be that funny. 

“That must have been very awkward for you,” you said once you could speak clearly.

“Yes, it was,” Wanda answered, smiling at you a little bashfully, tracking you with her eyes as you looked down to the table then picked up your mug of coffee again.

Wanda was never really good at picking up signals from other people either. It must mean something that you were in her house and eating with her, and sitting so close, and you weren’t rushing to finish your coffee. But what next?

It had been a long while since she had any close friends, or any real friends at all, so maybe she was just misunderstanding how she felt around you. Perhaps it was normal to feel so nervous around you and attracted to you.

Should she pursue you as a friend? She didn’t know how to do even that, and she also didn’t know if you still saw her as only your committee head. 

“Why did you change all those little things on our document, by the way?” you asked suddenly. “Sorry to bring committee stuff up. I’ve just been curious.”

Wanda looked a little embarrassed and she fiddled with the handle of her mug with two hands, her plate now pushed to the side. “There wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just thought I’d make a few adjustments about things that guests brought up last year,” she said. 

She looked up, looking uncertain and even a little remorseful. “I hope they weren’t too much of a change. I just thought I’d try to help a little bit.”

For a moment you couldn’t imagine that this was the same Wanda who had changed major parts of the group’s planning last year just five days before Christmas Day, and then you recalled that sometimes you couldn’t believe that both Wandas you knew were the same person.

You could understand Wanda seeming much larger in the committee room and much smaller in your car and in the cafe because she was sort of scary in the meetings, and soft-spoken outside of them. But you didn’t have a clue regarding things like how she seemed to treat the committee differently this time or how she treated your group differently than previous years, since you recalled that Peter mentioned how he thought she’d been nicer.

“Not at all. I think the changes were nice.”

“Really?” she asked. The corners of her lips tugged upwards a little. “I’m glad I could help.”

Wanda put away the dishes and thanked you again for the food. She packed you some of the peppermint cookies too. 

As she was walking you to the front, she watched you from behind, wondering if it was normal to bring up things that didn’t necessarily pertain to exactly what the two of you were talking about in the moment — which was to say, nothing.

Second guessing and uncertainty surrounding how she should behave or speak to you always got in the way of saying things she wanted to say. 

“Y/N, thank you for thinking of me today at the potluck when I didn’t come,” she said quietly as you slipped your boots on. She played with the box of cookies in her hands. “I’m not very good with people, as you might have guessed. But…”

She trailed off and you straightened once your boots were on to look at her. “I really like spending time with you outside the meetings,” she confessed, “and I hope that we might be able to keep talking after the holidays.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling your heart race at the sight of her averted eyes and her quiet tone. You took in a breath and then spoke. “Would you like to help me wrap some gifts tomorrow?”

Wanda looked up, surprised. 

“I have a bunch to wrap because I’m hosting Christmas, and some of my family members gave me money to shop for them here because they couldn't travel with too much,” you explained. “So… I’ll really need your help.”

She nodded, gripping the box a little tighter. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

That night, you and Wanda planned for what time she’d come over. She’d come around three so she could have lunch, and you offered to cook her dinner for her help. She wanted to deny the offer, but she truly couldn’t turn down the chance of having a home-cooked dinner with you at your place.

Though you were looking forward to having her over, you felt rather nervous about it all. Wanda had a gorgeous home and was likely a very talented cook as she was a talented baker, and you really didn’t want to disappoint her.

As you went through the grocery store in the afternoon after getting some last minute gifts, you decided on preparing salmon sushi baked, which you’d been wanting to try. You picked up the ingredients then headed home.

Wanda was far different from how you initially thought her to be, but she was still incredibly intelligent and responsible, and although you felt a bit awkward admitting it to yourself, she was gorgeous too, and you still didn’t entirely know the kinds of things she was thinking about you. 

She had said that she wanted to see you after the holidays.

As a friend, right?

You were at least certain that she saw you as more than just a committee member.

When had you even started feeling this confused about her, anyway? It was still possible she had a boyfriend or some kind of partner in Europe where she was from.

Thinking back to things you knew about Wanda made you feel a little flustered, even things that had really pissed you off for reasons you still didn’t really understand your reactions to, like her little cozy hat and the scarf that always covered half her face, and her habit of averting her gaze when you caught her looking at you.

When Wanda arrived, she was in jeans and a light brown knit sweater, her hair done in a braid. She smiled at you when you opened the front door, and she was holding a large Christmas gift bag full of different gift wrapping designs. You realized her hair wasn’t naturally as straight as you typically saw it, because the hair was a little wavy, pulled back into the braid.

Wanda sat down on your couch as you brought her some hot chocolate, and some fruit and a little charcuterie board you put together.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at you as you set down the food on the coffee table. She was smiling at you more than usual since she’d arrived, and you couldn’t figure out whether you were unsettled or flattered by it.

When you sat down beside her on the couch and Wanda was taking a sip of her hot chocolate, she asked, “How was your day?”

“It was okay. I was mostly running around,” you answered. “I was getting some last minute gifts, and then I bought the things for dinner today.”

At the mention of dinner, Wanda perked up. “Oh, right. I brought something.” She set her hot chocolate down carefully then stood up to go over to her purse, where she also had her wrapping paper set. You didn’t ask her to bring anything, but she brought about four different designs from her place.

She pulled out a bottle of white wine, which looked rather expensive, and brought it over to you before sitting back down beside you. “I was thinking we might be able to have some wine with dinner.”

You carefully took the wine from her and looked it over. “Wow, Wanda, this is a really good kind,” you mused. “I think I had this last Christmas, and I loved it. Thank you.”

“I’m glad, Y/N. I had a feeling you’d like it.”

After setting it down on the coffee table, you looked over to her, only to find her still looking at you. She had a sort of pleasant look on her face. A little smile formed when you met her eyes, which looked at you with a sort of focus or analysis whose details she didn’t disclose to you.

She looked away and took a grape from the charcuterie board.

“Should we start wrapping?” you asked, solely to release the tension in your chest.

You and Wanda sat on the floor in front of your tree, the coffee table moved so you could both reach the charcuterie board and Wanda could reach her hot chocolate. The two of you decided to use the wrapping paper Wanda bought, since hers was unsurprisingly far prettier.

“So, well… I’m actually not very good at wrapping presents. I always put them in gift bags,” you confessed.

Wanda took a box of expensive chocolates and aligned it with the wrapping paper. “I’m quite good at wrapping presents,” she boasted playfully, looking up at you as she cut the paper with a pair of scissors. “I can show you how.”

The chocolate box was wrapped pristinely, and Wanda turned it around a few times in her hands to show you its sharp edges and folds. She gave it to you so you could write on the gift’s label. 

“Where did you learn how to wrap so good?” you asked, taking another gift in an easy-to-wrap shape and setting it in front of your crossed legs.

“I had to do a lot of Christmas wrapping when I lived with my parents,” she explained. She stood up suddenly and took a seat beside you. She repositioned the gift in front of your legs and aligned it with the wrapping paper.

Between explaining how to wrap gifts to you and explaining how she learned while wrapping her own alongside you for you to follow her through example, she spoke while you listened.

“My brother and I also wrapped gifts for the soup kitchen I mentioned before,” she explained, her eyes darting between your gift and hers to make sure you were following along properly. “We wrapped so many, so I think I just got better at it over time.”

You spoke a bit slowly since you were focusing. “How long did you volunteer there?”

“I think about…” Wanda paused to think, then reached out to move your hand with her own. “Fold this underneath, not over. Keep it against the box,” she instructed. 

When you looked up at her after correcting yourself, she nodded, letting go of your hand as your fingers pressed the paper against the box. “Yes, just like that,” she said.

Then she continued, “I think we volunteered there for about eight years.”

You and Wanda spoke back and forth as you wrapped gifts together for about an hour, sitting cross-legged side by side beside your Christmas tree.

“Do you miss your family?” you asked at one point.

Wanda hummed as she taped some paper down. “My brother and I were very close,” she said. “I do miss him. I sometimes feel resentful that he hasn’t taken any time to come see me, but I understand that he’s always felt very trapped around family growing up. He was far more ambitious and impulsive than I ever was.”

You noticed she didn’t mention anything about her parents. 

“When did you both move out?”

“Pietro moved out when he was eighteen. He took up jobs wherever he travelled, and he’s always been a spirited and friendly person, so I hear he’d been able to make fast friends no matter where he landed.”

You noticed that Wanda typically avoided talking about herself when she had the chance to talk about anyone else, especially when it had to do with her family.

Sliding your last gift away under the tree after labeling it and turning your body to face Wanda with hers, you asked, “What about you?”

“I left much later, when I was twenty five. I studied to become a teacher here in America after finishing my undergrad there,” she answered, keeping her eyes on the final gift she was wrapping. 

She finished the gift and slid it over to you. You labelled it then placed it on top of another gift. 

“Wow. They all look great,” you said, standing up and taking a step back to look. “Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

You looked down at Wanda, who was staring at the tree and the gifts in some oddly sentimental way. You reached a hand down to her, and the movement from the corner of her eye broke her focus. She looked up at you with a grateful smile then took it and stood up. 

Wanda opened the wine so the two of you could start drinking as you began to cook together. 

This was your first year out of school and you’d been working throughout it without even really getting a chance to settle it in. 

This Christmas season, you’d been doing a whole lot of meeting with people from Westview, and it was all incredibly fun. You felt like a college student again, surrounded by older Westview neighbours, doing fun group assignments, and worrying about travelling to meetings in the weather. 

But while you were cooking with Wanda, your place finally felt lived in for the first time since you moved to Westview.

It was nice to fit in, but it was nicer to be home. 

“So… Can I ask if you have kids? Or, like… some wild crazy ex-husband story that would be interesting to tell?”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. “Goodness,” she said, setting the glass down. “Do I really look that old?”

“No, no,” you assured, waving your salmon-coated hands in front of you. She picked up a piece of salmon from the counter that had flung off from your finger and placed it in the glass dish that was nearly set to go into the oven. 

She watched you with a little smile, her cheeks warm from the wine as you flattened the salmon across the rice, thinking of a different way to form your question. 

“Then… Do you have a boyfriend?” you asked, looking up after a moment, meeting her eyes innocently. 

“No,” she answered. “I’m a lesbian.”

You blinked, partially surprised, and then feeling a little competitive. If she had a girlfriend, things would be totally different, for some reason. 

As if she could read your mind, she added, “But I’m not seeing anyone, and I don’t have an ex-wife or any children.”

It was most certainly the wine that was making the both of you feel a little bolder, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked her about whether she was seeing anyone, and she wouldn’t have seen your slightly flushed expression and thought to take the opportunity to tease you. 

“Do you have a partner, Y/N?” she asked, picking up her glass again. 

“No,” you answered earnestly. “I’ve been too busy to think about those things.”

She hummed at your answer, pouring a little more wine into her glass then topping yours off too. You washed your hands and put the salmon bake into the oven. 

“You’re not interested in anyone in your group?” she asked.

“Um…” You frowned a little at the thought, not because you were thinking about it, but because it was a strange thing to suggest. “No — no one there.”

Wanda would be lying if she said she didn’t think of placing you in that group because she wanted to see how you and Kate got along, amongst other reasons that were far less important now. She wanted to figure out if you liked girls, and Wanda figured she and Yelena had broken up since she stopped coming to meetings. But your answer wasn’t indicative of anything, so she figured she’d just never know. 

You set a timer on the oven and stood in front of Wanda, who’d been leaning her hip on the counter watching you after she cut the salmon and laid the seasoned rice out into the dish. 

“I guess I didn’t really think the rest of the night through,” you said sheepishly after taking a sip of wine. “What do you want to do?”

“Would you like to just talk at your dining table?” Wanda offered with a little smile. 

You and Wanda sat very close to each other, with the table’s edge between the two of you like it had when you were at her place. Except, her knee brushed against yours under the table with how close she was sitting. 

You said something that made Wanda laugh, and she crossed her legs on top of your dining room chair. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, and she kept leaning closer to you. 

Wanda had been worrying about the upcoming evening all day, wondering what kinds of things people talked about when they wrapped gifts together.

Then she wondered again about how you regarded her; you didn’t invite just anyone to your place, much less to do something as casual as wrapping gifts.

She’d actually Googled the kinds of things people did at these things, but she couldn’t find anything very good for what to say or do during gift wrapping activities, or even find anything for the specific occurrence. 

She’d even tried to search up how people advanced from a professional relationship to a more intimate one. She got some great tips on that from a website called Reddit — share more about your personal life, indicate with body language to express willingness for physical closeness, and maintain eye contact sometimes. 

Well, Wanda would say that it was all going quite well. She felt like a great socializer, and you seemed to be picking up on all her hints that she wanted to be closer to you. 

“I’m really sorry to ask, but I’m just curious,” you apologized, prefacing your next question as the two of you settled back down at the table, salmon bake now freshly out of the oven and on the dining table. 

Wanda was serving the pieces onto a plate after the both of you sprinkled fresh seaweed on top. “Don’t apologize,” she said. ”Ask me anything.”

“Are you close with your parents?”

The tension that often came over Wanda when you asked personal questions hadn’t seemed to come over her the entire time she was over. Instead, she would react with a familiar pensive silence where she looked like she was thinking something over before answering. 

“Not very close, no,” she answered. “My parents were very strict and very controlling of my brother and I. Pietro moved out the moment he could, and I stayed to complete my education and support them.”

“I see,” you said, taking a bite of your dinner. 

Before you could say how good it was, Wanda exclaimed with a hand over her partially-full mouth, “This is amazing. You’re a wonderful cook, Y/N.” Her cheeks were a little stuffed as she chewed and her hair had been loosened from her braid, showing more of the natural waves of her hair.

You had wanted to agree, but got a little distracted watching her, so after she swallowed another bite, she added, “I worked as a teacher’s aid through my undergrad and worked a lot outside of school to support my family. I still send them money frequently. I think my brother does the same, but we don’t talk very much about them. I’ve always been much closer to him.”

“May I ask you something personal too?” she asked. She looked up from her plate to look at you, and you nodded when you noticed she was waiting for visual confirmation.

She hummed a little, as if she were trying to select a good one. 

Then she asked, “Do you like women?”

The question surprised you and you weren’t sure whether you should laugh as if it were a joke. Your cheeks flushed at the idea of Wanda imagining you with a woman. But she didn’t seem to catch onto your embarrassment, even as she watched your face with focus.

You decided to answer simply given how nonchalantly Wanda was looking at you. “Yes.”

Then Wanda took a sip of her wine, looking at you still. 

“Okay,” she replied, smiling a little. “Have you dated recently?”

“Um…” You thought about that for a moment, then looked back at her. “No. I think it’s been about two years since my last relationship. What about you?”

Wanda swallowed another bite of her food. “I was with one of my coworkers when I first started working at the school for a few months.”

“Wow. How did that go?”

“It was a very bad idea.”

She looked up from her plate when you laughed, and Wanda couldn’t help but giggle thinking back at the absurd circumstances, which she discussed in more detail with you after you asked about it.

After dinner, you and Wanda decided that it wasn’t a good idea for her to drive home because of how she still felt a little tipsy, but it was late, and you didn’t want to keep her from going home, and you didn’t trust yourself to drive either. 

But because of how occupied the two of you had become inside, neither of you had paid attention to another snowstorm that seemed to have been going on for at least forty minutes.

“Do you think an Uber will come?” she asked, looking up from her phone with the weather app open and through the window in your living room, which you were also looking through while standing beside her.

“Ah… I don’t know,” you answered, sounding a little preoccupied as you looked outside. “The snow’s got some inches up your tires…”

Wanda looked at you, biting the inside of her cheek as she watched your deep focus. “Is it okay that I stay for longer? I don’t want to keep you up.”

“It’s really okay,” you said, stepping back from the window. “Please stay.”

The weather app said that the storm wouldn’t stop until later in the evening, so the plan was for you to stay up with Wanda until it died down. Maybe by then, you could shovel the driveway for her ride. Otherwise, she was alright with sleeping over. 

The two of you were sitting on your couch, the television on but paused about five minutes into a Christmas movie before one of you paused it for some forgotten reason, and became distracted in conversation moving forward.

Wanda was wearing some of your extra clothes, and you’d changed into something more comfortable too. She had undone her hair from her braid, and you thought she looked beautiful with her hair unstraightened. The two of you were drinking hot chocolate again after finishing off the wine, exchanging stories and talking about random things.

Then, as you looked over at the television, partly in deep thought about something you had just been talking about and the other part wondering if you should play the movie again, Wanda looked over your face, sitting with her knees up against her stomach, her body facing you. 

“Y/N, can I tell you something honestly?” she asked.

She thought back to the advice she read online — to become closer with someone, you should try being more honest about things to show that you were open to sharing your real thoughts and feelings.

“Sure,” you replied, turning back to her.

“I think you’re very attractive.”

Sometimes Wanda had a habit of asking questions or saying things which surprised you, in a tone that was entirely nonchalant. But often, when you looked at her expression and found that she was asking seriously or casually, you were able to gauge how to respond without seeming as flustered as you did — like when she asked if you liked women.

But this time, she herself seemed flustered too.

She brushed her cheek against her upper arm which was wrapped around her knees as you looked at her. “I’m sorry if that was a strange thing to say,” she said quietly, seeming hesitant to look away from you, but eventually looking back over at the paused movie.

Perhaps she was also thinking about playing it again, hoping to forget about what she said.

“Wanda,” you said quietly, getting her attention again.

When she looked at you, her eyes meeting yours and looking a little nervous, you said, “You’re really, really beautiful.”

Wanda’s hands tightened around her elbows, and she had the urge to hide her face. She didn’t want to, because she wanted to take the compliment well and say something kind in return, but her cheeks felt flushed and warm and she didn’t want to smile as wide as she felt she wanted to. 

Against her better wishes, she buried her flushed face in her arms, which were still wrapped around her knees. “You’re saying that to be kind, yes?” she asked, her voice meek, lifting her head and looking at you. “I read that sometimes people mirror others to seem friendlier.”

You only shook your head in response, and Wanda looked at you, trying to figure what to do with what you told her, her internal thoughts a downright mess.

Wanda imagined what would happen if she decided to stay quiet, like she normally did when she didn’t know what to say, or when she worried that she wasn’t reading social cues well enough to speak within the right context.

Maybe you might have lunch with your committee after the holidays, and realize that Kate was entirely your type. Maybe you would meet someone doing the same kind of research as you did in your postgrad at work. Maybe you’d stop staying in Westview, and start staying with your future girlfriend if she lived outside of town, and she’d never see you again.

“Can you kiss me? Please?” she asked suddenly, letting go of her legs and straightening.

Like a soldier acting on command, you reached over to her, ending up on your knees with one hand on the couch to steady yourself to meet her lips with yours. Your other hand rested on her knee, and Wanda took it, tugging you closer so you could move on top of her as she began to lean backwards.

You slotted yourself between her parted legs, her thighs closing against your hips, holding you in place. Her hands slid under your shoulders and laid against your upper back, keeping you close as your lips moved against each other. 

The little noises that came from her made you want to touch her in the most delicate way you could. You kissed her slowly, and she liked that speed. She shuddered when your tongue traced the bottom of her upper lip, and she immediately parted her lips for you. 

She rolled her hips upward when your tongue entered her mouth, the tip of her own running along the side of yours, like a gentle greeting, before your tongue swirled around her own slowly.

You parted from her lips to take a breath, and through hooded eyes you saw Wanda’s slightly open mouth, her lips glistening, before you leaned down and tucked your face into her neck. She whispered your name shakily, tipping her head to the side as your tongue flattened itself and ran up to the edge of her jaw.

Unsure if she was alright with you leaving marks, you gently suckled at points of her neck instead, nipping at her skin close to her neck. You felt the vibrations of her soft noises against your lips. 

One of Wanda’s hands moved down your lower back and tugged lightly at the waistband of your pajama pants. “Can I take it off?”

You lifted your head from her neck and nodded, reaching down to help her, and lifting yourself up onto your knees to readjust your positions. 

“Can you get on your back?” she asked, sitting up and removing her legs from between your knees. 

Wanda took the remote and set it down on the floor so you wouldn’t lay on it. She got on top of you, between your parted legs.

You kissed differently when she was on top. It was hard to explain, but you could feel it. She wasn’t necessarily slower, but she was careful and deliberate, your lips moving together as if to feel one another rather than doing so with the explicit intention to kiss. 

Your arm was wrapped around her waist, your hand pressed against the side of her stomach, feeling her shirt lift slightly as she moved, warm skin under your fingers.

She teased your nipple through your shirt in a way that made your body jerk slightly, the side of her finger grazing over it until it hardened and became sensitive. The pad of her thumb drew circles against it. 

The noises she made sounded more of satisfaction than pleasure as you whimpered beneath her, your body arching beneath her as she continued to tease your nipples. 

“Can I push your shirt up?” she asked, having to part from your lips to ask. You nodded immediately, lifting your back a bit while Wanda straightened so she could push your shirt above your chest. 

The position you were in was a rather vulnerable one, and made you feel more exposed than if you had just taken the shirt off. Her eyes darted between your breasts, before leaning back down, closer to you. 

Her eyes were still on your chest, and your shirt, bunched up close to your neck, obscured your view of her hands. Her finger teased at one nipple delicately, and you could figure that it was quickly stiffening based on a low noise Wanda made. 

She leaned her head down and wrapped her lips around it, sucking gently, her tongue rhythmically moving back and forth across the very tip of it and drawing soft moans out of you. 

Wanda paid such close attention to how her little ministrations were affecting you, and the speed of everything she was doing was perfect. She rubbed the tip of her tongue at just the right slow and teasing speed against your nipples, knew just when to pinch them between her thumb and index finger. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time someone had such a fixation on your nipples, let alone been able to make you feel this good while stimulating just them. 

She moved up and kissed you again, and the feeling of her shirt against your chest made you kiss her teasing. “Do you like when I play with your nipples?” she asked against your lips. “I can tell they’re very sensitive.”

You nodded immediately. 

“Would you like more?”

“Yes, please,” you practically sighed out in desperation. You sat up a little to take your shirt off to make it easier, and Wanda helped you get it over your head before placing it on the floor. 

She returned to teasing your buds, alternating between wrapping her lips around them, pressing gentle kisses to them, or rubbing her tongue against them. The pads of her fingers were gentle, careful to touch them right at their tips, which made you jerk upwards the most. 

At this point, you had practically been rolling your hips up against her for several moments straight, desperate for friction against your core. 

Wanda released your nipple from her mouth, watching your face as her fingers grazed across your clothed slit. She could feel the contours of your pussy against the pads of her fingers. She was so careful, and so delicate. 

She applied pressure steadily, rubbing up and down your slit, rubbing up the mound of your clit’s hood. She pressed into the empty space, feeling how easily your folds slid against the fabric of your panties — you must’ve already been rather wet. 

Her finger hooked around the waistband of your underwear and you reached down and tried to help her take it off. She repositioned herself to pull your panties off.

Your legs immediately parted for her and you watched as her eyes ran over your legs and thighs and then your cunt, your heart racing at the steady eyes you knew so well now focused on your pussy. 

One of your legs was partially dangling from the couch, while the other was bent, the side of your knee resting against the couch’s back cushion — you were entirely exposed to her. 

Wanda moved closer, unbending your knee and wrapping your leg around her hips so she could fit in between your legs. Her one hand placed itself on the couch by your hip. 

Curious fingers parted your folds carefully and you felt yourself flutter around nothing, a shudder running up your body. Two cool fingers rubbed slow circles against your pussy, so slow that you could hear the noises your cunt was making. 

“You’re so wet, Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice gentle and soothing. She spoke it as if narrating a fact rather than trying to intentionally talk dirty to you. “Your pussy is so soft. I wish you could see the way you look when I rub you this slow. The way you’re coating my fingers…”

She took her bottom lip between her teeth.

With the same two fingers, she parted your folds, watching your opening flutter for her. 

Wanda adjusted her posture, straightening her back and leaning forward to shift her weight onto her other hand. With one finger first, she slid into your opening, a satisfied noise leaving her at the feeling of how you wrapped around her middle finger.

“This is one finger,” she told you, looking up at your face. You nodded in confirmation. 

You clenched around her immediately, soft whimpers escaping you as Wanda began her rhythm, slow and intentional. She curled her finger upwards, applying light pressure against your g-spot. 

At the upward bucking of your hips, she straightened her finger inside of you and began to pick up speed. 

Wanda watched your back arch and your hips twitch upwards. She adjusted her speed and how hard she thrusted her fingers into you based on how much your hips chased her, or how much you pulled away or fluttered around her. 

Her eyes moved down from your face to your heaving chest, and she shifted her weight onto her heels so she could reach out with her other hand and grope one of your breasts. 

“Another finger,” you pleaded, reaching down to loosely wrap your fingers around her hand. She pulled out and reentered with two, adding her ring finger. 

As you adjusted to the size, evidently enjoying it much more for how you moaned out, gripping at the edge of the couch, Wanda experimented with her speed again, and tried thrusting her fingers in a little harsher. 

“Does that feel good?” she asked. 

“G-Good,” you stuttered in response. 

At your whimpers and your arching back, Wanda figured she found the perfect rhythm. She maintained it, then began teasing your nipples again. 

The double stimulation was far too much, and your leg wrapped around Wanda tighter. Your heel began to press into her lower back, so you set your foot down on the couch to avoid hurting her. 

“You feel so nice, Y/N,” Wanda said, practically cooing for how delicately she was speaking. “You’re so warm and soft. When I curl my fingers right here…” She curled them, pressing the pads of them against your g-spot, eliciting a whine out of you. “You fit around my fingers perfectly.”

She began to enter you each time with a delicate curl of her fingers, rubbing against the spot you loved. 

You panted, your hips lifting from the couch slightly as you felt yourself begin to tighten around Wanda’s fingers. She let go of your breast and wrapped a hand around the side of your waist, steadying you. 

“A-Ah, I’m gonna co-ome,” you stuttered. 

“Come for me, Y/N,” Wanda cooed. She looked down at you, biting down on her bottom lip as she watched your face contort in pleasure, listening to your whines mesh with your pants.

She maintained the speed you liked, until she felt you squeeze around her fingers, a cry leaving you while Wanda looked down at your body, feeling her mouth go dry at what she was seeing and at how much she loved feeling you around her fingers. 

You were younger than her, but Wanda never thought about your age difference very much when she spent her time with you. But you looked much younger below her as she watched you orgasm, listening to your delicate whimpers as you came down from your release.

Wanda slipped out of you slowly when your hips fell back down to the couch, missing the warm squeeze of your walls. She wrapped her lips around her fingers, savouring you slowly, her tongue sliding around her slick fingers. 

Then she moved on top of you, leaning down to kiss your lips. Her hand caressed your cheek, and you felt the remnants of her saliva rub against the corner of your jaw. She parted from you and buried her head in the crook of your neck, and you helped her position herself so she was laying on top of you, on your chest.

She turned her face upwards, kissing your neck chastly.

“You’re so good at that,” you said after you caught your breath in silence, Wanda having closed her eyes as she laid on top of you. Your hand was tucked under her shirt, rubbing her bare side.

With a flush of her cheeks and a repressed giggle, Wanda turned her face to rub against your chest. “Thank you.”

You untucked your hand from under her shirt and lifted it to her upper arm to play with the ends of her hair. Then you raised your hand to the side of her head, your fingers intertwining themselves into her hair, massaging her scalp gently.

Feeling the stark contrast from the present in comparison to when you first met her, you confessed honestly, “I actually really disliked you when we first met.” You avoided using the word ‘hate,’ because sometimes Wanda took your words very literally.

Wanda opened her eyes, looking up at you from your shoulder. “I know,” she said. “I figured you did.”

“But I thought I was just being overdramatic,” you added, “so I never talked about it with anyone, in case I would say things I regretted or if I figured I was just being confused.”

She wrapped her arm around your torso a bit tighter. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I gave you a hard time on purpose.”

“Why on purpose?”

Wanda looked back down at your chest, her hand rubbing against your side slowly. “At first, I felt a little awkward. I thought you were very attractive, and I knew you were younger than me,” she explained. Her fingers drew shapes against your skin, fidgeting slightly as she confessed what she regarded was embarrassing.

“Then you got along so well with the committee — far more than I ever had after volunteering for three years. And I knew you didn’t like me very much, and I also knew that if you spoke about it, you’d certainly speak with others who didn’t.”

Then she added quietly, “And I didn’t know how to speak with you; I don’t know how to speak with anyone. And when you drove me home during the blizzard, I felt very awkward. I didn’t know what I should say.”

You thought about that for a moment, and you realized that Wanda genuinely felt insecure about her struggles with socializing, and often behaved with hostility due to her inability to blend in well with others or figure out how to act in social situations.

“I didn’t think of you like that at all,” you said. “I only didn’t like you because you ran the committee like a dictator, not because I figured you had a hard time talking with people.”

“Really?” she asked, lifting her head to look at you. “I thought I stuck out like a sore thumb.”

You shook your head. “Kate said you didn’t typically come to events like the one downtown on Christmas Eve because she figured you travelled, and I just thought you were very different outside of the committee. I wanted to know more about you.”

Wanda felt her cheeks flush, and she swallowed. “You wanted to know more about me? Even after I was terrible to you?”

“You weren’t terrible to me, Wanda.”

She looked away, feeling a little awkward. You reached out and cupped her cheek supportively, your thumb brushing over the traces of the freckles by her nose that you’d noticed the first day you met her. She looked back at you, smiling at your supportive gesture.

“The day you drove me back, I told you all those things that I heard from other volunteers,” she said. “But no one really tells me those things. They don’t speak with me socially.”

“So… You just made it up?”

“No, I didn’t make it up,” she answered. She averted her eyes. “I didn’t know how to compliment you…”

You smiled at her shy demeanor. You rubbed your thumb against her cheek again, and Wanda re-met your eyes. “I don’t think you seem awkward, Wanda. You don’t stick out like a sore thumb,” you told her. 

Wanda always had a very difficult time with eye contact, but she liked being looked at by you. She replied softly, “You’re the only one who thinks that.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Her smile widened at the sound of your playful tone.

“What?” she asked.

“I think…” You sat up, and Wanda slipped from your chest, sitting back into your lap as you reached down and put your shirt back on. “I think that we should go upstairs so I don’t have to be the only one without my underwear on.”

“I can take them off now,” she offered, shifting herself on her lap to slip the pajama pants you gave her off. 

You placed your hands on hers to keep her from undressing, and you stood up from the couch. “No, I mean, I want to have sex upstairs,” you explained.

“Ah,” she replied, feeling a little silly for misunderstanding, a smile forming on her face. She quickly stood up after you and followed you up the stairs. Her eyes kept darting down to your naked lower half below your oversized shirt, her heart racing at the sight of you, and at the act of following you upstairs. 

She sped up a little to walk beside you. 

You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling you against her so you could kiss her. Wanda moaned softly into your mouth. She tugged at your shirt, encouraging you to pull her to your bed.

You unwrapped your arm from her waist, placing both hands on your hips and keeping her against you. Wanda felt herself ache at how you handled her, and she carefully stepped back as you led her towards your bed. 

She took a seat at the edge, your lips parting. 

The two of you spoke about using a strap, and you showed her the size you had. She held the harness up while you inserted it, then the two of you put it to the side on the bed as Wanda moved back onto your bed.

Your lips met again, Wanda parting her legs for you to position herself between. You felt her reach down to take her shirt off and you straightened to help her. 

She didn’t seem to receive as much pleasure when you teased her nipples as she did when she was doing it to you. She preferred for you to be closer to her, with your lips on hers or against her neck. 

Her hands tucked themselves under your shirt, running up the curve of your back. She pulled your shirt over your head and pulled you down to her. Her breasts were soft against your chest and you flushed at the sight of the soft flesh against your body.

You practically whimpered as you looked down at them, one hand massaging her gently, Wanda whimpering softly as you did.  

“You like them?” she cooed from beneath you, watching with rapt attention as your eyes looked down at her chest. She arched her back up and pushed herself into your palm, your hand full of her soft breast, her nipple stiffening under your contact.

After responding with a useless, distracted noise, Wanda cradled the back of your head with her hand and brought you down to her neck, where you sucked gently at her collarbone first before travelling up to her jawline.

Her pleasured sighs made you ache once more between your thighs, and you could feel Wanda begin to roll her hips up against you. Her leg wrapped around your hips and she pulled you closer.

Instead, you repositioned yourself to slide a thigh between her legs, making contact with her clothed core. Wanda immediately began rolling herself down against you, whiny moans coming from her. You bent your thigh forward, applying further pressure to her clit.

Her eyebrows furrowed together at the sudden attention, and she opened her eyes to look for where the strap was placed. “Please, now,” she begged.

Wanda eagerly took her pants and underwear off as you stepped off the bed and stepped into the harness. She swallowed at the sight of you, and she laid back down, her legs spread for you and her hands gripping onto the blankets, feeling a hummingbirds’ heart thrumming in her chest.

It had been a while since Wanda last had sex. 

She was more heartbroken over Agatha than she preferred to let on; for her, it had been a short fling on a break, while Wanda had sincerely liked her and enjoyed the intimacy. When she discussed it with you the time you came over to her place, it had been the first time she thought about it without feeling inadequate for serving as some temporary fling.

It wasn’t just that it had been a while that made her feel a thrum of both excitement and nerves, but also that she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so attached to someone she was about to sleep with. She wanted to do well for you, and she wanted you to feel a connection with her. 

You coated the strap with lube before setting it down on the nightstand and meeting her warm pussy with your fingers. 

A small whine escaped Wanda at the contact. 

You looked up at her. 

“Are you feeling nervous?” you asked. 

She nodded.

You lowered yourself over her, your fingers still rubbing softly against her warm folds. She made little noises, gripping into the sheets. 

“We don’t have to,” you told her, removing your fingers. “It’s okay if you’d like to go to bed, if you would rather that.”

Wanda shook her head adamantly and placed her hands on your sides, pulling you against her. 

“I want you,” she assured. 

Then, when she felt like she might go silent again like she normally did when she wasn’t sure what to say, she confessed, “I want you to feel connected to me, and… I don’t want you to be bored of me. After this.”

“Wh…” You lifted yourself up, your weight shifting onto your hand by her head to get a better view of her. “Why would I feel bored of you?”

“I want to spend time with you. I still want to see you even if you ever leave the committee, and even after the holidays when we both get busy. Sometimes, I still can’t tell if you like to see me just because you’re free over the holidays,” she explained. 

She added quietly, “I don’t want you to… leave me for someone you like more.”

You completely sat up, leaning back against your heels. Wanda sat up a little against your pillows and headboard. 

You took her hand. “No, Wanda, I really, really like you. Outside of the committee, and outside of… of the holidays.“

That made Wanda giggle a little, her hand brought up to her mouth. She felt her stomach filled with butterflies at the direct confession.

“You really like me, Y/N?”

With a poorly-repressed grin, you climbed on top of her again and added a little more lube to yourself, your hand wrapped around your strap. “I like you so much, Wanda,” you whispered against her temple. 

You heard another giggle from her before you delved into her neck, your fingers drawing circles against her core. You entered and exited her shallowly, steadily pushing yourself further into her with one finger with every gentle entry. The length of your finger slid against her clit with every stroke.

“Tell me when,” you said, speaking against her neck, curling your finger slightly with every slow entry, trying to see if you could gauge the speed she liked. 

“I want you now,” she sighed, her hand moving down to find your harness, pulling you against her hips. She let out a desperate whimper when your strap grazed against her core.

Wanda liked it in the same way she liked kissing you. Your speed was steady, and she took your entire length with her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you in so you met her skin with an echoing slap. Then she loosened the tension so you could pull back, before pulling you back in, lifting her hips slightly so she could meet you with the intensity she wanted. 

The speed allowed for her moans to be low and genuine, communicating what she couldn’t with words in little noises and sighs. 

You reached over her head to grip the headboard so you could meet her hips without the pressure of her legs. Wanda whined loudly, reaching up to wrap her hand around your bicep as she arched her back up against you.

She whimpered your name, her thighs squeezing against your hips.

“Y-Yes, like that,” she panted. “Ah, Y/N, I’m…”

“Fuck, you take me so well, Wanda,” you encouraged.

Wanda whimpered at your praise and she came not a moment after, crying out into your shoulder, her hand squeezing your bicep when your hips met hers with a slightly more forceful impact as she reached her peak.

Her thighs loosened from around your hips and she groaned, breathing out with a huff. Her hand remained gripping your bicep loosely. 

Wanda caught her breath while you laid beside her, rubbing her hip. You kissed her face gently and then the top of her head, and played with her hair.

“Do you want water?” you asked her.

“Please,” she replied, opening her eyes and looking at you with a little smile.

A few moments later you came back with a glass of water, handing it to her after she sat up. “Thank you,” she said, shuffling closer to you as you drank from your own. 

After she set it down, she looked at you with a smile, as if expectantly.

You exhaled a laugh into your glass then set it down, wiping the water that had splashed onto your cheek. “What?”

After some giggling in which Wanda bashfully asked to go again, the two of you switched positions. 

Wanda turned onto all fours and you held onto her hips, positioning yourself against her opening. She pushed herself back slightly, and you watched as her opening hugged your tip. She let out a soft whimper.

Everywhere you touched Wanda, your bare skin brushed against hers. When you looked at her, you could see every form her naked body took, how it curved and bent and folded. Her skin was cool to the touch and easily warmed.

The bed squeaked beneath the two of you in tandem with your hips meeting her ass in rhythmic slaps, and it didn’t take Wanda long to lower herself, unable to hold herself up. She laid on top of your pillows, moaning out as you kept the steady pace she liked. 

You sped up slightly and Wanda whined into your pillow.

“Do you like it when I do that?”

“Nngh, s-so good,” she groaned. She slipped her hand beneath her torso and massaged her breast.

You reached forward and wrapped a hand around the side of her waist to hold her in place. Your other hand moved her hand out of the way, and you groped her breast before flicking at her hardened nipple. 

Wanda held onto your wrist, her body jerking forward with each one of your thrusts. The headboard hit lightly against the wall in the same tempo as Wanda’s tiny whimpers, muffled by your blankets. 

With this position, it was far easier to thrust against her with a little more intensity, although with the same speed. 

“Is this too rough?” you asked. 

“A little…”

You let go of her breast and placed both hands on her hips, slowly lowering her so she was mostly laying flat. Her back was arched enough so that she was angled up against you, her ass slotting against the curve of hips. 

This way, your range of motion was centered closer to her body. 

“Is this better?” you asked, speaking softly now that your torso was entirely against her back. 

She nodded, reaching back for your hand. You let go of your hip and interlaced your hands with hers, holding it above her head, her other gripping at the bed sheets. 

“Faster…” she muttered against your pillows. 

You sped up, your hips meeting her ass eagerly, egged on by listening to her moans so close to your ear. 

From behind, you buried your face in her neck, kissing and suckling gently at the soft skin. You bit down lightly on her shoulder to see how she would react, and you were rewarded with a whiny moan and a squeeze of your hand. 

“Pull my hair,” she told you. 

You let go of her breast and took a handful of her hair, pulling it back, her noises now unmuffled from your pillows. Her hair was so soft. You were sure not to lose your grip. 

“Wanda, you’re doing so good,” you whispered. “You sound so fucking hot.”

She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Mmm, Y/N…” She turned her head and met your eyes. “Am I being a good girl?”

Your mouth went dry and you felt like you were melting on top of her. Then you realized it made an incredible amount of sense that Wanda would be into being praised. 

With the way she was underneath your body, her hand squeezing around yours, and her hair tightened in your other, the blissed out look Wanda gave you through her hooded eyes made you completely speechless. 

You leaned in and kissed her, and Wanda immediately parted her lips. The kiss was messy for how often the two of you had to part to take breaths and exhale, panting into each other’s open months, tongues swirling around each other, grazing against smooth teeth, teasing at swollen lips.

“That’s right, my good girl. Take it just like that,” you grunted softly. “You deserve this, Wanda. You’ve been so good… Working so hard.”

Wanda whimpered, feeling even a little emotional at your words. Her lips were parted and her tongue was stuck out slightly, waiting for you as you spoke against her lips, her breath hot.

You tightened your hand around her hair. “You look so pretty taking it, princess. You make me feel so good when you sound like that.”

“I’m gonna come,” she whimpered. 

You maintained your speed so you could ensure she took you in deeply, taking your entire length each time, burying yourself inside of her. Wanda cried out at the depth, throwing her head back further and allowing you to readjust her grip on her hair. 

In broken noises, she whined, “Aa-ah, I’m coming, I’m com-”

Wanda’s words were interrupted as a long, loud cry left her parted lips, she let go of your hand, reaching up and helplessly grasping against your headboard, fingers pressing into the solid surface as she came. 

When she came down, her hand slipped from it, and you let go of her hair carefully, letting her catch her breath as you slowly pulled out of her.

You unfastened the strap from around your hips, setting it to some corner of your bed before laying down beside Wanda’s panting, tired body. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. Her hair was a mess where you had been pulling it, and her body trembled with the post-tremors of her orgasm.

Your arm wrapped around her waist and Wanda immediately shifted, lifting herself up so she could bury herself against your front. Her arm wrapped around your torso, and she laid her head on the bicep of your other arm. 

She breathed out deeply, and you felt her entire body loosen and relax in your arms. 

When you pressed a kiss to her forehead, you saw the glimpse of her flustered smile before she buried her face in your chest. “You’re so gentle, Y/N,” she whispered. “That felt so good…”

“How couldn’t I be gentle with you?”

You unwrapped your arm from her waist and combed your fingers through her hair, smoothing it out and fanning it out against your pillows.

“Can I sleep here with you?” she asked, looking up from your chest.

You smiled down at her, and her eyes darted down to your lips, smiling a little in response when she picked up that you thought her question was a little funny. But you couldn’t even poke fun at her. She just looked so small in your arms, looking up and asking to sleep beside you.

“Of course. I want you to stay here with me,” you answered, moving your hand from her hair to cup her cheek. “I’ll get us some new pajamas.”

“Okay,” she answered, beaming up at you and asking for a little kiss before you went to dig through your wardrobe.

A few days later, you and Wanda decided to go to the Christmas Eve event downtown. It was both of your first times there, and Wanda felt rather nervous to go. You had no idea she thought so frequently about how others thought about her; you knew she was insecure about how she behaved, but not regarding how others viewed her.

She told you that she had considered attending many times before, but worried that people would see her attending and think she shouldn’t be there, and so she figured she ought to just do what was expected of her.

She was still rather nervous as she attended with you, but your presence reassured her in the first few minutes you were there. After a few minutes, Wanda became easily amused and was quickly beginning to have a lot of fun. She mentioned all the planning that had come up behind the scenes at things you passed together, and you couldn’t help but smile at how excited she was getting.

You had both said that you didn’t want to be too open about seeing each other right away, so in case the two of you might be seen by other committee members, you agreed on keeping intimate physical contact to a minimum while you were out. It was Wanda who had the hardest time remembering that. 

Sometimes you couldn’t help but wrap your arm around her when she got excited — she was too cute. She took a bunch of photos with you, and you took many of her on her own. You took dozens of photos of her while she wasn’t looking too; she looked like a kid experiencing Christmas for the first time.

Because you had convinced her to come, she paid for your hot chocolates and macaroni and cheese. But you paid for the churros and dulce de leche dip, because you were far more interested in trying it than she was.

The two of you stayed for a few of the performances, because Wanda hadn’t ever actually seen any of the bands they partnered with play. The two of you sat with your hot chocolates, Wanda holding the mac and cheese while you held the long churro stick.

“They’re so good, Y/N…!” Wanda whispered to you excitedly.

You laughed, and Wanda continued to look onwards with rapt attention.

As you were leaving, the two of you passed Mrs Davis, who had forgotten her mittens at home and decided to walk over to get them and come back to the event since she lived in very close walking distance. She called your name first, and you felt Wanda’s arm brush against yours, seemingly having stepped closer to you.

“Y/N, you made it!” she greeted cheerily, holding her arms out excitedly. Then upon seeing Wanda, her eyes darted between the two of you, trying to see if she could read the kind of outing this was. But a large and warm smile remained on her sweet face all the same.

“It’s so good to finally see you at one of these events, Wanda,” she said.

Wanda nodded, smiling a bit shakily, not that Mrs Davis noticed. “I thought it was high time I finally attended,” she said. 

Share personal information, she recalled from what she read online.

She added, “And Y/N offered to come with me since I didn’t want to come alone.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you out during the holidays, Wanda, I always wondered how you were the head of the committee, but were never able to enjoy the hot chocolate vendors you helped us find!” Mrs Davis laughed, and Wanda found herself genuinely smiling, pleasantly surprised by how much she’d been thought of.

“The hot chocolate was amazing,” Wanda conceded with a shy smile.

A voice called from behind the two of you, presumably Mrs Davis’ husband, for she waved back and quickly said her goodbyes as she said she needed to run.

“So, so happy to see both of you,” she said with a beaming smile. “Merry Christmas!”

Wanda waved goodbye, watching the older woman walk away before you both headed back to her car together. When you looked at Wanda, she had a little trace of a smile on her face, and after a moment, she held your hand, not saying anything.

You sat in Wanda’s living room going through the photos you took together, having stopped by a restaurant to pick up some dinner. She was laughing at them, asking you to send all of them to her, and recalling everything you did that night together with great excitement.

She cuddled close to you as she watched you send her the photos.

“I’m so happy we went,” she said, her cheek laying against your warm sweater.

You brought your hand up to her head, combing through her hair and massaging your fingers against her scalp. You watched as her eyes closed, listened to her breathing softly as you touched her gently.

After some silent moments, you asked, “Would you like to come to my place for Christmas?” 

Wanda opened her eyes and looked up at you. “But you’re hosting your family.”

You and Wanda had only been together for a few days, and by tomorrow, Christmas Day, you still wouldn’t have been together for even a full week. 

“I know, but… Wanda, I don’t want you to be celebrating Christmas alone at all. I want to spend it with you, and I want you to be there.”

She sat up, her hand still resting on your knee.

“But I’ll be meeting your family, right?”

You knew that family was a bit of a sensitive topic for Wanda. You didn’t want her to feel upset while she was there, and you didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, or like she didn’t fit in. But unbeknownst to you, that wasn’t what Wanda was thinking about at all.

“You… will. Yes. But I promise they’re really nice, and they’ll really like you,” you tried to explain, hoping you weren’t turning her away from spending the holiday with you.

“But, I mean…” Wanda trailed off, trying to find a way to word her thoughts. “You’re introducing me to them as… What?”

The moment a weight was taken from your shoulders at the concern that Wanda would be too nervous to spend Christmas with any family, another one was added in which you and Wanda would have to think about how you wanted to see your relationship.

Wanda felt a bit of panic rise in her at what seemed to her as hesitancy. Didn’t you want to be with her? Were you feeling ashamed of being with her? Or even worse, were there some things about having a family that she just couldn’t understand? Was she fated to never fit in amongst people you loved?

You also felt nervous to approach the topic. Introducing her as your girlfriend felt like forcefully jutting her into your family dynamic. You wanted to show her that you listened to the stories you told about her family, and that you didn’t want to change how she was in order to enjoy Christmas with you.

“We can…” you started, going nowhere. “Maybe I can… If you want… introduce you as my girlfriend.”

Wanda felt her heart flutter and her fingers tightened around your knee. You took that as a sign of tension. 

“But that’s totally okay if that’s not at all what you want. I understand. Listen, we can try, just for Christmas, and if you hate it, we don’t have to do it again.”

Then Wanda became confused, pulling back. “What do you mean? You’ll break up with me after Christmas?”

“What? What do you mean ‘breaking up?’”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now? Asking me out so you can introduce me as your girlfriend?”

“I-I mean… Yes, maybe. I’m actually… I’m not really sure what I’m doing.” You frowned just a little, looking helpless. “I’m a little confused.”

She exhaled a little, feeling relief that at the very least she wasn’t the only one.

After regaining some of your confidence, you worded yourself carefully, and honestly. “I just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable being around my family. I don’t want this to be something that divides us.”  

“Me neither,” she replied. She moved closer to you again. “I want to fit in with your family.”

“Wh… Really?”

Wanda nodded. “Of course,” she replied sincerely. “I want to be able to fit into your life. I want to take this seriously.”

Then after a moment, she asked quietly, “Do… you take this seriously?”

“Yes! Yes, I do,” you quickly answered, taking her hands. “I just thought that you’d feel uncomfortable being around my family for the holidays, and I didn’t want to force you to have a role with them by introducing you as my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Wanda breathed out, understanding where the misunderstanding had come from. “But what about what you said about breaking up after Christmas?”

You let go of her hand to scratch the back of your neck awkwardly. “That… Well…” you trailed off, and Wanda squeezed your hand supportively. “Well, are we dating? Right now?”

Not even Wanda really knew, and she was the one who was most outwardly adamant about wanting to be serious with you.

“I want to be your girlfriend, Y/N,” Wanda said.

Your cheeks warmed and you felt your chest flutter with the idea of Wanda calling herself your girlfriend, and the idea that you were dating her. 

“Okay,” you replied with a little smile, and Wanda smiled shyly when you squeezed her hand. “Then… Will you be my girlfriend? Can we go out?”

Wanda couldn't help but giggle, both at the ridiculousness of the confusing conversation, and at the feeling of being asked to be your girlfriend. 

“Oh, you’re making fun of me now?” you teased, only making Wanda laugh harder. She tried to pull her hand away from you to compose herself, but you didn’t let her. 

You pulled her on top of you as she laughed. Your hands held her at her waist and you kissed her neck and shoulder. Then you laid your head back, watching with a smile as she came down from her laughter. 

She brushed her hair back and looked down at you. 

“Yes, we can go out,” she finally replied, pushing your hair back from her forehead with a delicate smile on her face. 

It wasn’t until after Wanda started dating you that she realized she was a little bad with words. It wasn’t only lacking the confidence to say things that made her bad at it, but also her struggles with wording things. But you somehow always understood her when she tried her best to explain, pulling together scraps of a cohesive explanation. 

You understood when she tried to explain how happy she was that she was your girlfriend, and you were hers only. Largely, you understood everything she tried to tell you, even when she thought she made absolutely no sense. 

It made her much more confident in speaking with others, and in sharing what she thought and felt in a sincere way, and not because she read a tip online saying that she should. 

You spoke with her over the phone as you ran the last few errands for Christmas dinner, and Wanda was preparing the dish she was going to bring. She asked things like what she should wear and if they’d like the dish she chose, and even things like conversation starters your family would like. 

To the last question, you honestly had no clue, and told her no one had ever asked you that before. It kind of made you laugh, which made Wanda laugh and realize she was overthinking. 

After you hung up, Wanda called her parents like she did every Christmas Day. This time, she was able to tell them that she was going to attend something later. 

Pietro, unlike her parents, for they didn’t understand the significance of what their daughter was trying to tell them, was thrilled for her. Though she wasn’t sure if he would actually hold up his end of the bargain, he communicated that he really hoped to see her for Christmas next year. 

She sent him the pictures of the Christmas Eve event she went to with you, and she promised to send pictures later that night too. 

Pietro was always very supportive of Wanda’s interests, and he said he truly couldn’t remember the last time she was so excited about anything. She hadn’t realized she was so excited about the dinner. 

He corrected her, saying that she seemed far more excited about dating you. 

Wanda knocked at your door, holding her own attempt at the salmon bake she believed you mastered the first time you cooked it last week. She heard the sounds of your family already inside and she felt her chest flutter with both nerves and excitement. 

She thought of Mrs Davis, and how excited she had been to see her. 

She thought of everything you’d told her, and how you’d wanted to know more about her when she thought she’d treated you horribly, and how you didn’t think she treated you horribly at all. 

Maybe she wasn’t so bad at all the things she thought she was. In any case, you still liked her. Though she didn’t think she’d ever get used to that. 

You opened the front door, quickly ushering Wanda in. You took the dish from her as she took her shoes and jacket off. 

“Merry Christmas, Wanda,” you said softly, leaning in and giving her a kiss. 

Wanda beamed at you. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

[meteorella]

Nerdgasmic Rhapsody

pairings: loser!dom!ellie x popular!sub!reader

cw: flufff!! ellie's an absolute cutie pie. cursing (obv), oral! (r receiving), tribbing (maybe?), nipple play, after caree!!, pet names: sweetheart, baby, princess, that's all i think!

wc: 511

a/n: (intentional lowercase!!!) first ever ficcc omg🥹 i have never ever in my life written a fanfic before so pleaseee don't judge and also feel free to point out some mistakes and stuff!! I take criticisms as i'm sure it'll help me a lot throughout my writing journey :))) can't promise I'll post consistently considering I'm insanely dumped with school works but I'll definitely find time to do so. anyways i hope u guys enjoy this one!! Feel free to hit me w some ideaaasss :3

after you had made it official with the biggest dork on campus—ellie—people would randomly come up to you in the hallways and tease you, not believing how sweet she actually is. after all of your previous relationships, ellie is the only one who genuinely cared for you. despite her shy and nerdy demeanor, she's really fun to hang out with. she'd continuously yap about space, the comic books she's read—savage starlight—and drop all of its lore to you. the whole fucking lore. although you hardly cared. she was too adorable. most of the time, you would find yourself just looking at her sparkling green eyes, topped by her matte, black glasses, her hand gestures, and the soft smile plastered on her lips while she speaks. she's even more beautiful up close. how could others not see that? whilst ellie can be a total cutie pie, you cant deny how fucking insane she can be in bed.

when eating you out, she'd flick her tongue out relentlessly on your leaking hole. firmly gripping on to your thighs, she already knows your next motive. "nuh-uh, sweetheart. keep them open for me." she shoots you a knowing glare before diving back into your drenched core, keeping eye contact all the while. her gaze roamed over your appearance, hair disheveled, eyes rolled back, and completely fucked out. "s-sorry, baby–fuck." you moaned as you clutched onto her dino-printed sheets. so fucking cute. after you'd climaxed for the 3rd time, she'd climb on top of you and slip her tongue down your throat, allowing you to taste yourself as she grinded her own throbbing cunt against yours. your soaking wet pussies rubbing, and creating the most delicious rhythm together. she absolutely loved your boobs. she adored how it just bounces up and down as she rolled her hips above you. she took your nipple in between her thumb and her index finger and pinched them, making you flinch at the feeling. her glasses were all fogged up and crooked, but she couldn't care less. she was too engrossed on drawing out more of those angelic sounds that slips past your lips as she pleases you. "doing s–so good f'me, princess... fuck–so hot." when you had both finally reached your peak, she'd lean down and gently clean up all your juices from between your thighs with her tongue.

she gives absolutely the best aftercare imaginable. the routine would start with cleaning you up with a wet towel, swiping it's soft material across your face, your breasts, your legs, your inner thighs—she had always taken care of you in the most tender and loving way. she loved hearing your soft, exhausted sighs of relief, as you watch her with a smile on your face all while savoring the chocolate she so graciously offered you. after ellie finishes cleaning you up, she would settle beside you, enveloping you in her arms as she wrapped them around your waist. her lips showering your neck with gentle kisses as she whispered heartfelt words of affection. "i'm going to marry you one day."

YAAALLLL OMG I HOPE THIS DIDN'T SUCK TOO HARD😣😣😣🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 i hope u guys enjoyed this one, i really enjoyed writing thisss!!

tags: @ellstronaut

dividers: @khaer @plutism

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Christmas Chaos

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Your first Christmas with the team is one for the books. The excitement of unwrapping gifts turns into delightful chaos. 

Word Count: Roughly 1.1k 

Warnings: Fluff, Mild Violence (threats and roughhousing), Christmas themes, Bucky's red henley (totally deserves it's own warning)

Author’s Note: According to TikTik, tons of people didn't get what they wanted for Christmas; so here’s a little something I whipped up because I’ve been awake since 5 this morning and I have had three cups of coffee. I typed this on my phone, so if there are errors, I apologize. If you like this, you’re welcome and if you don’t, it wasn’t me :)

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Divider by: @strangergraphics 

You wake up to muffled noises from downstairs. You bury your face in your pillow, before looking at your phone for the time. It is too early to be up on any regular day, but today was different. It's Christmas day! Christmas day with your favorite people. You slipped on your fluffy slippers and quietly padded downstairs, rubbing your eyes and yawning softly. 

“Merry Christmas!” you chirped to the team.  

Natasha smiled and raised her mug of coffee. 

Wanda smiled and handed you a cup of hot chocolate. 

Tony was busy arguing with Bruce over an instruction manual, and Steve and Sam argued over who had better gift-wrapping critiques. But as you scanned the room, you noticed. Bucky wasn’t there.  

“Where’s Bucky?” you asked with a small frown.  

“He’s upstairs,” Sam said casually. “Brooding, probably.”  

“I can go get him…” You offered, only to be cut off.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Steve gave you a small grin, ruffling your hair. “Trust us.”  

Wanda passed you your stocking, filled with goodies. The works of small trinkets, candy and chocolate coins.

You grinned as you and Peter dove into the chocolates.

Tony already started complaining about the sugar rush you both would get.

Then, Steve pointed to a large, festively wrapped box.  

“This one’s for you, kid.”  

Your eyes widened. The box was massive, and you crouched down to peel the wrapping paper off. 

“What in the world?” you murmured, pulling off layer after layer. With a puzzled look, you pried it open.  

“Bucky?!”  

The former Winter Soldier was sitting cross-legged in the box, arms tied with rope, a gag around his mouth, and a pretty red bow on his head. He wore a snug red henley and gray sweatpants, looking both murderous and utterly done with life.  

He looked divine, even tied up. Delicious. Marvelous. He could make greek gods envious.

“Merry Christmas, sunshine,” Steve and Sam chorused, howling with laughter.  

Your jaw dropped, and then a giggle bubbled out of you as you knelt by the box. “Oh my gosh, you two didn’t! Poor Bucky!”  

Bucky’s piercing glare snapped to Steve and Sam. He growled something unintelligible through the gag, making them laugh harder. Your cheeks flushed as you gently began untying the bow and ropes.  

“I’m so sorry they did this to you,” you said, smiling softly as you helped him out of the box.  

Bucky’s expression was a storm cloud, but when his sharp blue eyes landed on your sweet, genuine smile, his hardened features instantly softened. 

“Merry Christmas, sunshine,” he murmured, pulling you into a surprisingly gentle hug. The heat of his body and the smell of fresh pine and something distinctly him filled your senses.  

You melted into the embrace, pressing your face into his chest as your arms circled his waist and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Bucky.”  

The tender moment lasted five seconds. Maybe eight, but who’s counting?

Then, he pulled back and turned to Steve and Sam.  

“You two are dead,” he growled, rolling his shoulders.  

Steve and Sam’s laughter ceased as they quickly stood. “Now, Buck, let’s talk about this—”  

But Bucky was already moving towards them, cracking his knuckles menacingly.  

“We’re going to run,” Sam muttered, and the two bolted out of the room, Bucky hot on their heels, shouting threats about payback.  

Watching the chase unfold, you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped your lips. Natasha caught your eyes as she sipped her coffee.  

“Guess you’re his sunshine, huh?” she teased.  

You bit your lip, cheeks warm as you whispered, “Maybe.” 

Natasha smirked knowingly but didn’t push further. Instead, she was content to watch the chaos unfold as Bucky cornered Sam near the Christmas tree.  

“You think tying me up is funny?” Bucky growled, advancing with a predatory stride.  

“It wasn’t just me!” Sam yelped, using the tree as a barrier. “Steve came up with the idea!”  

Steve, who was inching toward the kitchen in a futile attempt to escape unnoticed, froze under Bucky’s glare.  

“Traitor,” he muttered under his breath, cursing Sam’s lack of discretion.  

“Traitor?” Bucky repeated, catching the word. “You both tied me up like a damn Christmas present and you’re calling him the traitor?”  

You stifled a laugh behind your hand, stepping closer. “Okay, okay, Bucky. Maybe don’t kill them? It is Christmas.”  

“Besides, we did it for her,” Sam pointed at you to soften the blow. “Right, sugarplum?”

“Do not call her sugarplum. Ever.” Bucky warned Sam.

“Bucky,” You called softly, looking up at him.

Bucky paused, looking back at you. 

His sharp glare softened into something almost dopey when he saw your pleading eyes and soft smile. 

With a sigh, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Fine. They live. For now.”  

Sam exhaled audibly, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Thank you, sunshine!” he called to you, grinning.  

But Bucky turned sharply, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t push it.”  

Sam immediately zipped his mouth,

Steve, ever the brave one, chuckled and clapped Bucky on the shoulder as he passed. “Merry Christmas, old pal.”  

Bucky’s only response was a low grumble of curse before sitting on the couch. 

You disappeared into the kitchen and came back a few moments later, offering him a warm mug of hot cocoa in your hands.

“Here,” you said softly, “Hot cocoa. Consider it a peace offering on behalf of Steve and Sam.”  

Bucky eyed the mug for a moment, then you. He took it without a word, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a little jolt through you.  

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking a sip.  

You sat beside him, your own cocoa in hand, legs tucked beneath you as you leaned against the armrest. The room buzzed with holiday chatter and laughter, but your attention stayed on the super soldier beside you.  

“I hope they didn’t ruin your day,” you said after a moment, voice tinged with genuine concern.  

Bucky glanced at you, his lips quirking up in a faint smile. “Nah. Nothing can ruin my day when you are smiling at me like that, sunshine.”  

Your cheeks burned and you looked away.

Natasha, who had been observing the exchange from across the room, smirked and leaned over to Clint. “He’s whipped,” she whispered.  

Clint raised an eyebrow, glancing at you and Bucky before nodding. “Completely.”  

Bucky leaned back on the couch, sipping his cocoa and sneaking glances at you. Every now and then, his lips would tug into a soft smile. 

Without a word, he shifted, inching toward you on the couch. He casually draped his arm across the back of the couch, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You eagerly took the opportunity to tuck yourself into Bucky’s side.

This time, leaving his cheeks burning.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Happy Holidays! Stay warm/cool wherever you're at.

Tell your loved ones that you love them.

And if nobody told you today, I love you <3

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[sugarcoated-lame]

Easy Like Sunday Morning | Joel Miller x Reader

pre-outbreak joel x reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors dni!

Summary: You wake up before Joel and decide you want to take care of him.

or

giving 2003 pre-outbreak Joel some head on a sleepy Sunday morning

a/n: i was inspired by this post by the amazing @mrsmando 🤍 and her delicious joel thoughts that never fail to have me spiraling and swooning 🫠 if i had a nickel for every time i’ve written a joel fic about someone being woken up with some head, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice (sorry i had to lmfaoo). also this is probably the quickest thing i’ve ever written, so i’m sorry if it sucks!

wc: 2.8k

content warnings: no outbreak/pre-outbreak 2003 joel, kricket sucks at writing summaries we know this, smut, oral (m receiving), slightly rough oral, hair pulling, no physical description of reader except that her hair is long enough for joel to pull, pet names (darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl), no use of y/n, joel miller has a big dick because i said so, established relationship, somno (kinda? joel is like not really awake at the beginning of the smut), this is basically just smut :)

joel masterlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

⋆ . ˚ ✩ comments, reblogs, and feedback are greatly appreciated! ⋆ . ˚ ✩

Lazy Sunday mornings have become your favorite in the weeks since you moved in with Joel.

Nowhere to be, neither one of you has to get up before the sun and go to work. No rushing around to make sure Sarah gets to school on time — just sleep. It’s the one day a week both you and Joel get a chance to sleep in, to wake naturally without the shrill ringing of alarms, and just relish being wrapped up in the comfort of each other’s presence.

Eyes still shut as you begin to stir, your mind is only just waking up and the first thing you feel is warmth.

Warmth of the bright, golden Texas sun shining through Joel’s — well, now your — bedroom window and behind your closed lids. Warmth from the plush, gray comforter draped just over your calves, where it had been kicked down in the night in an attempt to curb the relentless, sticky summer heat.

You find yourself cocooned by the furnace-like warmth that is Joel as he lies on his back beside you — a warmth that would probably be overwhelming if it wasn’t such a comfort to you.

Your cheek is pressed to his broad chest, the steady beating of his heart a calming rhythm beneath your ear. Your torso flush against his side, you have an arm wrapped snug around his middle, and a leg draped over both of his. You and Joel both lay almost bare, each clothed in nothing but your underwear after the previous night’s activities — hot skin on hot skin.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open to the bright, morning light, you look up to find Joel still fast asleep and take a moment to admire the peaceful expression on his handsome face.

Long lashes fanning over his cheeks, his brows free of the worried crease that often rests between them, plush pink lips parted as he lets out quiet little snores, his strong chest slowly rising and falling, up and down beneath your cheek with each calming breath. Tanned skin warm and glistening with a light sheen of sweat, dark chocolate locks especially curly due to the humid Texas heat, a few sweaty strands clinging to his forehead.

Seeing Joel laid out like this only reminds you of the way he looked last night — all flushed beneath you, cheeks pink, head thrown back and brown eyes clenched shut in bliss as you hovered above him. Pulling quiet, deep grunts from his parted lips as you rode him, his big hands on your hips, guiding your movements as you lifted yourself up and down on his cock.

The reminder of just how full you felt with him inside you — of how goddamn good he makes you feel — has dampness forming beneath the thin fabric of your panties, thighs attempting to clench shut in search of friction to quell the wave of slick that’s building between your legs, though they’re unable to do so with Joel’s thick thigh slotted between them.

And, though you know Joel is still resting so peacefully beside you, and that you should probably let him sleep in for once, you can’t help it when you feel the sudden and urgent need to kiss him. To feel your lips on his skin.

These lazy Sunday mornings with Joel are your favorite because you know he’s always so busy, always working hard, always so stressed. And, that despite it all, he always takes such good care of you.

So, you want to take this opportunity, when he doesn’t have to be up for work, or take Sarah to school — and you know it’s a couple hours before she’ll be waking up — and you want to do something nice for him. Take care of Joel for once. To make him feel good.

Lifting your head from Joel’s chest, you press your lips to where your cheek had just been. Beginning at his pec, and over his heart, tasting the salt of his sweat-damp skin as you work your way up the broad plane of his chest, dotting feather-light kisses up to the juncture of where his shoulder meets his neck.

You gently untangle yourself from his side, and Joel begins to stir just slightly as you softly mouth along the column of his throat and move to hover over him, your thighs straddling his hips and hands on the mattress on either side of him to hold yourself up.

He’s still mostly asleep, but you can already feel through the layers of both of your underwear that he’s beginning to harden beneath you, his body waking up faster than his brain, always so responsive to your touch.

You continue to kiss across Joel’s strong jaw, over the patchy hair that tickles your lips, dotting a trail of sweet kisses up his cheek and to the tip of his sharp nose, then back down to his mustache and over the corner of his lips.

He stirs again when your lush lips press against his own just once, not quite awake enough to kiss back just yet, but this time a soft hum of approval leaves him at the pleasant feeling.

With one more peck to his soft lips, you begin your descent back down Joel’s body, leaving behind another smattering of kisses in your wake.

From his Adam’s apple to the rounded bone of his shoulder, then back down to his chest. You know he’s a bit more awake when you feel him begin to stir again — his strong body shifting ever so slightly beneath yours, dick twitching against your core underneath the layers of cloth as you place a barely-there kiss to each of his nipples. Joel lets out a sleepy groan as your tongue darts out to lick at the sensitive skin before continuing on your way.

Shifting your body lower on the bed, your kisses become a bit more feverish, less soft as you work your way down Joel’s torso. Your hunger for him only growing as you get closer and closer to the bulge in his boxers, spurred on by the breathy little grunts and groans leaving his parted lips as his mind begins to catch up to the pleasure that his body is feeling.

Joel lets out a content sigh, head still resting on his pillow, eyes still shut and still about half asleep. Unsure if he’s dreaming when he feels you press a firm kiss to the skin just above his navel.

He’s quickly pulled out of that dream-like state, though — breath catching in his throat, jolting beneath you as your warm tongue darts out lick a broad stripe over his soft belly.

You can’t help but grin as you look up to see his face, those pretty brown eyes now open but still bleary with sleep, pillowy lips parted in a gasp, sweaty curls falling over his forehead as he shifts his focus towards you.

“Morning, baby.” You whisper into the quiet of your bedroom, your chin resting on Joel’s tummy as you gaze up at him sweetly.

Your smile only grows when he cards a hand over his tired face, groaning out a tired ‘fuck’.

Now that he’s awake — just barely — you press your lips to his belly one last time before heading lower. Fitting yourself between Joel’s thick thighs, you kiss along the fine hairs of his happy trail, then his hip bones, and you know he’s fully hard when your hands glide up his thighs to palm him over his black boxers.

Joel releases a throaty groan as you stroke him through the soft fabric, one of his large hands coming up to the side of your head. Calloused pads of his fingers running gently through your bed-mussed hair. “Please, darlin’.”

The use of the pet name combined with Joel’s sleepy, Texan morning voice actually makes you whimper, clenching your thighs as a new gush of arousal floods between them. Needy for him as your fingers move to his waistband, gingerly but quickly pulling down the black, cotton fabric and freeing his impressive length.

A quiet, raspy moan escapes Joel’s lips as you spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock. He’s long and thick and heavy in your hand, your fingers hardly able to wrap around the girth of him, his tip an angry red and leaking pretty pearls of precum.

He lets out a quiet hiss as you begin to stroke up from the base, leaning down to kiss along his tip before kitten-licking at the slit, a pleased hum leaving you at the salty, heady taste of his arousal. Joel’s mind is still a bit hazy with sleep, but he swears he’s died and gone to heaven when you lick a hot stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue laving over the thick vein that runs along his shaft.

The hand in your hair tightens its grip when you oh-so-delicately take Joel into your mouth, emitting a pleased hum from you as you gently suckle on his tip. The vibration sends a jolt up his spine, cock twitching in your grasp as you continue to stroke up and down his length with increasing ease as your spits begins to coat his skin. Delicate fingers wrapped tight around him moving up and down to meet your lips as your tongue swirls around the bulbous head.

You take your time, enjoying Joel’s quiet, raspy moans, the whispered curses, and shallow breaths all falling from his lips as you slowly take him deeper and deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth.

When you’re about halfway down his length, you suck in your cheeks, lips tightening around him as you begin to suck with more fervor and Joel has to bite back a desperate moan as you bob up and down his length. His hips buck up of their own volition — the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him is just too good — the two of you groaning in unison as the movement sends his cock further between your lips, the tip just grazing the back of your throat and causing you to gag around him.

“Fuck, m’sorry, baby.” Joel drawls, gently smoothing a hand over the crown of your head. He lifts you up his length just a little bit, just enough to gather your bearings.

You release him from your mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva still connects the two of you between his swollen, red tip and your now swollen lips, and Joel thinks he’s a goner when you wrap a hand tight around his shaft, leaning back in to kitten-lick at his slit.

You smear delicate kisses all along his tip, then up and down every inch of his length, all the while gazing up at him with doe eyes before you bring him between your spit-slicked lips once again.

“So good for me. Always so good for me.”

His morning voice is deep — deeper than normal — and it has your eyes rolling back into your head as you whimper around him, tears collecting at your lash line from having just taken him so deep so abruptly. Nodding your head as much as you can with his cock still in your mouth, you let Joel know that you’re okay to keep going.

You want to please him. He deserves this. You want to make him feel good.

You know that Joel is getting close from the way he’s fighting himself to not buck his hips and fuck up into your mouth, the hand that’s not in your hair clinging to the gray sheets like a lifeline. His chest rapidly rising and falling as he tries his hardest to keep at least somewhat quiet — he knows that his daughter is sleeping right down the hall — biting back gravely grunts and groans that you so wish you could hear at full volume, his cock twitching against your tongue with every little move you make.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you decide to take him as deep as you can go. Swallowing around him as his tip reaches into the depths of your throat, those tears are now spilling freely from your eyes as the coarse hairs at his base tickle your nose.

You suction your cheeks taut and lick along the underside of his shaft, the wet sounds of your sucking growing sloppy, Joel’s pubic hairs now shiny with your spit and his fingers are now pulling hard at your hair, the slight sting in your scalp a pleasurable one and only spurring you on.

A particularly harsh suck has Joel throwing his head back onto his pillow, sweaty curls falling like a halo around his pleasure-wrought features. Whiskey colored eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, nose scrunched, and lips parted in a quiet, guttural groan that lingers in the warm, sticky summer atmosphere of your shared bedroom.

“I’m— fuck!” He damn near whimpers when your free hands reaches out to caress his heavy balls, squeezing getnly as you continue to arduously suck and stroke his length, your hand and mouth working in tandem and meeting in the middle. “I’m close, sweetheart.”

You moan hungrily around him, the vibrations nearly sending Joel over the edge, the hand on your head now pushing you down onto his cock without hesitation – he knows you can take it. Hips thrusting up and chasing the velvety, wet warmth of your throat as you gag on him once more, drool spilling out the corners of your mouth all around him, the wet, sucking sounds filling the room obscene.

Joel practically growls when he feels your nails dig into the meat of his thigh, his chin dropping to his chest and he looks down to find you gazing back at him. Your cheeks hollowed, lips stretched around his aching cock, taking all of him like the good girl he knows you are. Your pretty, tear-filled eyes gazing up at him with so much love, and that’s what is his undoing.

You feel it when Joel’s whole body tenses beneath you, fireworks shooting up his spine as he starts to cum with a heavy groan that was lodged deep in his throat. You can’t help but moan around him as he fills your mouth, painting your throat with the hot, salty ropes of his release.

He mutters a string of broken moans, a mixture of curses and grunts of your name as you work him through it. The grip Joel has on your hair starts to lighten up — though, only a bit — but it’s enough for you to pull back on his length a bit to allow your hand to join your mouth in its ministrations. Slowly, but firmly, stroking him and sucking at his cock until you’re sure you’ve swallowed down every drop he has to give you, his stomach practically caving in by the time you’re done with him.

Until he’s reduced to shallow pants and hushed whimpers, Joel’s entire body shuddering as your lips lay one last kiss to his sensitive tip, and he drops an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the now overwhelming light as he takes a few moments to catch his breath.

You let Joel take all the time he needs to recover, carefully tucking his softening length back into his black boxers.

It’s a few minutes before Joel uncovers his eyes, slowly blinking to adjust the the increasing brightness of the hot summer sun shining into the bedroom, and he’d swear you’re an angel, still nestled between his thighs. You’re busy littering the soft, tanned skin of his thighs and his belly in sweet little kisses and love bites when that deep, sleepy morning voices speaks up again.

“Well good mornin’ to you too, pretty girl.”

Before you can respond, two strong arms are pulling you up the bed — and up Joel’s body, a firm hand on the nape of your neck pulling you in so he can smash his lips to your puffy ones in a longing, appreciative kiss.

His deft hands then slide down your hips to grab your ass, squeezing at the soft flesh with a groan against your lips, before Joel is flipping the two of you over so he’s now the one hovering over you. A little yelp escapes you, but is quickly transformed into a stifled moan as his lips begin kissing a path down your body, now fully awake and more than ready to return the favor.

⋆ . ˚ ✩

⋆ . ˚ ✩

Thank you for reading!! x

[camzeecorner]

𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝚂₊˚ෆ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐏!𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

smut ღ dividers → @bernardsbendystraws ฅ^._.^ฅ

⚝ matt sturniolo ↴

vacation relief - [‘all this heat got me feeling hot and bothered’ y/n groaned throwing her head back. ‘Oh yea? You want me to fix that mama?’ Matt smirked at her.]

Steamy shower sesh - [‘getting in the shower I’ll be back’ y/n yelled as she closed the bathroom door. Little did she know matt was close behind her.]

Pussy pounder - [‘gonna keep giving me shit? Take this fucking dick’ matt grunted into y/n’s ear.]

Golden love - [matt loves nothing more but to see his beautiful wife below him blowing him. Especially the way her perfect golden brown skin shines.]

Chocolate for the win - [‘kid there’s no way you prefer milk chocolate over vanilla’ Chris laughed at matt. ‘Darker the berry sweeter the juice’ matt winked]

⚝ chris sturniolo ↴

Best friends brother - [‘what do you think Nick would say if he knew -fuck, you were getting fucked so hard, so deep by his brother? Hm, you think he’d like that? ‘Nah I don’t think so babygirl.’]

Throat baby - [‘I am the throat goat queen bitches’ I laughed at my own joke. Chris smirked at your comment, only to find himself moments later watching in awe as he watched the way your throat was taking his cock so well.]

I fuck better than him - [chris your toxic ex found out you’d been hooking up with other guys. That left him no choice but to put you in your place and show you who will always be number one.]

Scream queen - [‘scream as loud as you want baby. Let the world hear how good I fuck you.’ Chris bent down whispering in your ear, which only causes your pussy to clinch around him more.]

Oatmeal pie - [‘gonna fill you up so good. Gonna make you look like a fuckin oatmeal pie’]

lets pray these links don’t get deleted!! 😭😭

tags 🏷️ - @shaquilles-0atmeal @monroesturnns @blahbel668 @mattssluttywaist @jetaimevous @kayeeaa @ribread03 @meatballlover10

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Guiding Light✨

Marcus Acacius x fem! reader

A/N: I was immediately inspired to write this after I saw the pictures drop Monday, and I conjured this up in one night. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem and @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading 🩷

Summary: You watch Marcus avenge himself week after week in the pit of the arena, but how much longer will it take to make you snap? How much longer can you go on watching when he’s the only man you want?

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Tags: Yearning, a little angst, soft dom! Marcus, feelings, confessions, jealousy, unprotected piv, oral (male/female receiving), fluff, reader’s nickname is Starlight

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  The arena is drenched in dark crimson colors as the clash of silver armor and jagged swords collide in unison. The audience is obnoxiously loud as their rowdy shouts and chants fill your ringing ears.  

   Thump. Thump. Thump. 

   You can basically feel your heart trying to break free of your insides that pound uncontrollably as you watch Marcus take out another large fighter from his right with only one jab of his shiny sword that catches sunlight and reflects in your wide eyes.

   Come on, Marcus. Win, stay alive!

   You swallow back a trembling whine as you sit on the edge of your seat, fingernails digging into the tough stone as you watch the man you yearn for take another blow to the back. You gasp as you watch Marcus flip the fighter over and finish him off with one slice of his silver sword, barely any sign of pain or fear in his vision that’s focused on taking out every single enemy that stands in his way of freedom.

   You sigh out in relief, fear flooding your veins as your eyes stay glued to every careful move he makes in the arena of death. 

   He stands in the middle of the expansive, gruesome arena, dodging left and right, taking out man after man, completely pulverizing anything and anyone that gets in his way. He’s the best in the game, the most experienced fighter, the champion that never falters, never loses. So why are you a complete mess when he’s in that pit of death?

   You’re not lovers, not exactly. You’re his plaything, the woman he calls to his bedchamber after every battle, every night that suits his needs. He doesn’t care if you’re asleep, doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of other pressing matters, doesn’t give a fuck because you’re his property that he can do whatever he wants with. And you have to admit you find that sort of… hot. You’ll do anything for that man. He can use you all he wants, as long as that means you have him.

   Your pulse thrums in your neck as you watch him completely dominate the arena. The blazing sun rains down on his broad body, leaving him in damp, silver armor, sweat glistening down his tanned skin, greying curls sticking to his forehead, dirt covering every inch of his muscular arms, his sculpted legs, his large hands. 

   You so badly wish you could be every speck of that dirt right now so you could lick up and down every inch of him until you were completely consumed in him, until you could see nothing but him for all eternity, until he melded his own skin with yours as you fused into one. 

   When the crowd chants and the last man falls to his death, the only man left standing is him, General Acacius, the man you’re completely wrapped up in. You have to pull yourself back together as your core burns hot, slick collecting just thinking of what he’ll do to you later tonight. You know he’ll take you, hard. 

   His golden flecked chocolate eyes find yours in the crowd in a heartbeat, a celebratory smirk curling against his plush mouth as darkness and trouble swirl through those beautiful eyes. You know what that means. He’s won you, and he wants you, now.

   When your eyes leave his, you see the emperor’s daughter, Mina, looking over his broad body with those bright blue eyes, her ashy blonde hair flowing down her back, and she’s nearly drooling over his victory, thinking that she can get him with her daddy’s command.

   You flare hot with jealousy at the thought of Marcus and Mina tangling together, their skin caressing over each other’s in his large bed draped with gold sheets that swallow their bodies whole till they’re nothing but shadows dancing in the midst of the night.  

   You see it now. The long walks they take in the gardens, the secret slurs in each other’s ears over dinners with the entire court, an arranged marriage as he fights for her love each time he’s in the arena. 

   It’s only in your head, only a sick mirage your jealous mind has conjured up. He barely glances her way half the time, his heated gaze only locked on you each time you’re in the same vicinity. It’s stupid really, the hate you feel for her because you could never measure up to a rich, beautiful goddess like herself. You don’t come from royalty, barely have a cent to your name, and that is why he could never love you, you think. 

   Mina has it all, and you’re just… you. 

   You swallow the lump in your throat as the audience still shouts and whistles from every direction as Marcus is called out and awarded as the winner of today’s events. You want to stay, but you get up quietly and leave, knowing he’ll want you waiting in his chambers when he’s finished. 

   He’s safe. That’s all that matters. 

   You quickly leave behind the bellowing noise of the arena, trading it for a quiet walk through the rose garden, past the trickles of clear blue fountains, entering into a quiet overlay of towering architecture that’s trimmed in carved stone and marble pathways. A place you could never even dream of setting foot in on a regular basis. You’re just a commoner, not royalty, not wealthy, not anything but his to take. And that will have to be enough. For now. 

   You slip past some guards, heading straight for his bedroom, his sanctuary so to speak. He calls it that because you are what he worships night after night in those sheets, inside those marble walls, against his broad body that makes every vibration buzz through your nerve endings. He is what makes this city even tolerable. 

   You throw the double doors open wide and slam them shut, letting the glow of the sunlight fade through the cascading window overlooking the city. The room smells of spice and aroma, the golden curtains sparkle as the sun kisses the see-through fabric and dips against the silky sheets that are bathed in a majestic golden hue. The king sized bed sits front and center as his grand bathing chambers lay to the right, just inside the hand crafted door that’s threaded with gold.

   This room, this place is exquisite, and you can’t believe the emperor is letting Marcus stay here after their falling out that happened just weeks ago. But the best fighter gets to stay in these living quarters. They get money, a title, a chance at freedom from the arena if they’re lucky. That’s what Marcus is fighting for. To be free from this hellish prison, and you just pray to the gods that no one will take him from you. You’ll surely wither and fade away the moment something goes wrong in those walls of torture and murder because he’s all you know anymore here in Ancient Rome. 

   Before you can delve into anymore feelings, you hear the crash of doors being opened behind you, and then you hear the disposal of swords and shields being tossed in a heap on the floor, then you hear the deep, ragged breaths of the one you’ve been waiting for. Marcus.

   You try to twist around, but strong arms envelop you from behind, and a warm breath blows huskily down the shell of your ear. “Enjoy the show?” he smirks as his meaty hands find the back of your long gown and rip, tugging it free as it falls to the floor around your ankles. 

   Your mouth drops open as warmth blooms in your core, hot and heavy like the room begins to feel. “Marcus! I liked that dress,” you pout.

   He grabs the back of your hair and tugs playfully while one hand snakes around your waist and pulls you flush to his silver armor, making you gasp as he cups your bare breasts and starts kneading them together, like he needs you right this very second and can’t wait any longer to get his experienced fingers on your burning skin. 

   “I’ll buy you another one. Not like I don’t already have one hanging in my closet,” he teases, pinching your pebbling nipples together as a slight moan leaves your lips. 

   “Needy thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles, pulling you closer as one hand slips down and ghosts over the sheer panties, the only thing left on your bare body. 

   “For you, yes,” you whine, stifling a moan as his calloused thumb glides over your clit, sending a shiver down your spine as you fight to keep standing upright. 

   “Greedy thing I see, wanting to come already?” he teases as he tugs his hand away from your slick center and rips your ruined panties in half, leaving you completely bare and absolutely wet with desire and famished for his touch. 

   “Turn around,” he instructs with a bite as he assesses you from head to toe, licking his bottom lip in anticipation the moment he sees how drenched you are for him.

   Your gaze drops over him, still clad in silver armor, his leather wristbands splattered in dried blood, his Caliga boots biting into his toned shins, the leather kissing his muscular thighs. He quickly loses the wristbands and stalks toward you, backing you up till your back is pressed into the corner of the bed, chest heaving as the possibilities swarm your hazy mind.

   “My armor, unthread it,” he demands as his dark brown eyes pierce into yours as sweat glistens across his tanned forehead, dirt still caking his dark skin as he stands fresh from a win of a long day in the arena. “Now,” he growls as he loses his patience while you stand there staring like a lovesick puppy.

   “Yes, sir,” you nod as your fingers get to work unlacing the gold threads of his armor, making sure your movements are swift and cordial, knowing he doesn't like waiting too long to have you. 

   His eyes follow you with every turn, every move, like he’s some kind of wild animal that’s stalking his prey, ready to pounce and devour at any minute. You have to keep your eyes off his as you unfasten his belt, the silver armor falling to the floor as you tug it off his broad body until he’s standing only in the leather material that covers his upper thighs and the boots that shine against his banged up ankles. 

   You stand there a minute and admire the gorgeous fighter that stands in front of you. Tall, extremely handsome, greying curls slicked back with the sweat from the sweltering sun in the arena, dirt etched across sculpted, tanned skin, eyes the color of bright sunlight and charcoal mixed together to make the prettiest honey-glazed eyes you’ve ever seen in your life. This man is like a god, and you’d happily get down on your knees and worship him at his beck and call. 

   His blazing eyes slide down your bare body and end at what’s left on his, nodding for you to finish the job. “Well, don’t just stand there. Finish undressing me,” he bites out with scalding irritation, clearly ready to forget his long day in an arena where hyenas bark at him day after day. He wants a release, and that release is you.

   You quickly tug the leather material down his legs, taking his underwear to the floor as his hard cock stands at attention against his sculpted abs, his coarse, wiry, dark hair trailing down the base of him as you gulp with wide-eyes.

   He’s so big, so thick, so very… god-like. 

   He sits down on the wooden chest that’s sprawled at the end of his bed, spreading his muscular legs wide as he points to his dusty battle boots. “Knees on the ground, Starlight,” he instructs firmly with a gravelly tone that makes you clench your thighs together.

   “Yes. Of course, Marcus.”

   “Sir,” he corrects as you bend down and start to unlatch the straps of his fighting boots, slowly stripping them off as you toss them to the side. 

   You idly sit there on your knees, one arm twisting around the back of his thigh as you spread him wider, almost drooling at the sight of his thick cock dripping precum around the angry red tip. Your mouth parts open, and you lose all train of thought. The only thing you want is to choke on that beautiful cock till he tells you to stop.

   He strips you from your fantasies as he grabs a fistful of your hair, leaning down as he bites out slow, deliberate words. “Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to be a good girl and wrap that pretty little mouth around my cock?” His eyes twinkle with a seductive glare, and his dirty words melt all the way down to your heated core until you can actually feel them around your aching clit.

   “Yes, sir. Wanna be your good girl,” you pant as you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

   He smirks and sits back as his rough hand guides you forward. “Then get to work,” he growls, tugging you forward with his hand wrapped around your hair until your lips meet his dripping tip.

   You take your tongue and run it flat up the base of him, following along the bulging vein as you lick up the salty precum that gushes around his swollen tip. 

   Gods, he tastes so good, even after a long day in battle without a bath. You actually prefer to go down on him like this when his musk is drenched around the coarse hairs at his base, sweat pooling down his glorious body as you bathe in the aroma of him. Battle and all, this is when you like him most, when he completely takes charge and dominates you around his chambers, instructing you with filthy words and crude actions. This is how you like it. All hot and sweaty and desperate and messy.

   He groans as you take him deeper, hollowing out your cheeks as you fill your throat with his thick cock, gagging around his massive size as he starts to bob his hips, fucking your throat in steady strides as his large fingers wrap around your soft waves. 

   “That’s it, right there, atta fucking girl,” he moans, tipping his head down to yours as he watches you through the black pits that consume his wide eyes.

    “Look at me,” he demands as he pulls you back up to breathe, letting a bead of saliva connect to your plump lips from the tip of him as you suck in a deep breath, feeding your lungs as you look up into eyes that could eat you alive. 

   “There she is, my good little Starlight. Sucking my cock just the way I like it, yeah?” he coos, threading his fingers through your hair and stroking the back of your neck like you’re a well trained dog on a leash just waiting for their master to give you orders.

   “Mhm. You just taste so good, all hot and sweaty,” you purr as your hand slides down the base of his shaft, squeezing his balls as he grunts in pleasure, tightening his grip on your neck as he pushes you back down. 

   “Yeah? Put those pretty lips to action then, gorgeous,” he growls. 

   He takes you to your limits, cock throbbing as you choke and gag around his thick length, drool dousing him as he fucks you hard and deep, taking exactly what he needs after going through hell and back himself in one day.

   You groan, tears licking your eyes as you swallow the salty taste of him, letting him move you at his leisure, making your body do exactly as he pleases. Before you can get another good taste of his deliciousness, he pulls you off and throws you on your back in the silky sheets, watching him grab some of the gold cords from his armor. 

   Your breath escapes you as he crawls over your body, the dirt caking his broad arms as his hungry eyes nearly devour you whole as he carefully binds your wrists to the headboard, stilling your writhing legs as he starts to slowly spread them. 

   Your heart is beating wildly like ocean tides collide with your body, and your core is humming for Marcus to touch you in every single place he can get his filthy hands on you.

   He takes the tips of his fingers and melodically strokes them down your neckline, skating between your peaked breasts, teasing along your inner thighs until you’re a writhing mess beneath him. “Marcus, please,” you beg, nearly panting his name raggedly as you beg for his touch. 

   “Sir,” he corrects sternly as he stares at you with dark eyes in warning.

   “Sir,” you apologize with a meek voice.

   He chuckles and drags his finger higher, teasing around your drenched folds as he hikes one leg over his shoulder, your other folding around his back. 

   “Now, I want you to look up and watch, can you do that?” he asks as you tilt your head and swallow a gasp as you stare into the reflection of you and Marcus in between the sheets that will soon be soaked.

   “Want you to see what belongs to me, what I own,” he growls dominantly as he sinks down to his elbows and breathes in your musk deeply as your pussy shutters at just the feel of his hot breath.

   You groan in waiting, and then his mouth is on you in a flash. He licks a thick stripe up your center as your wrists tug at the golden clasps, your fingernails digging into your skin as you moan in pure ecstasy when his tongue circles meticulously around your puffy clit. 

   “Oh, yeah,” you whine as the feel of his thick fingers curl up inside you, reaching that sweet spongy spot that makes you dizzy every single time.

   He chuckles as he pulls you down further, your bound wrists biting into the cords as he swirls his tongue exceptionally fast, groaning at the taste of you as his messy curls fall against your thighs. You want to reach down and lace your fingers into those beautiful locks, want to hear him groan as your nails dig deep into his scalp as you moan his name around the spacious chambers of his living quarters, but you’ll work with this for now, until he says otherwise. 

   He pulls your bundle of nerves into his warm mouth, sucking and teasing as he looks up from under hooded eyes and stares at you playfully with his pupils expanding into dark pits the more he feasts on you. 

   You buck into his mouth as his fingers plunge in and out of you, creating the most obscene wet noises that reverberate off the marble walls. He releases your buzzing clit with a pop, licking the slick from his lips as he groans at the sweet taste of you.

   “This is exactly what I needed, Starlight. Needed to drink you down, taste the savory flavor of this sweet pussy, needed to drown in you,” he pants as he dives back in, licking and sucking and fucking two thick fingers inside your dripping hole until you start to see black dots flick across your vision.

   “Yes, come for me, Starlight,” he purrs, his gravelly voice melting your insides into warm lava as you snap and let the white hot heat take control.

   You throw your head back into the plush pillow and let your moans fill the room as you clench around his thick fingers and release everything you have to give him.

   “Just like that, Starlight. Fuck, yes,” he growls as he licks you clean, lapping up all the slick until you’re completely spent off the way he just demolished you.

   You feel his broad body climb over yours, carefully untying you from the headboard as your arms fall slack to your sides. You feel as if every wave of ecstasy just crashed into you, the high tides pulling you out to sea as you agreeably follow the darkness. Marcus pulls you out of the lapping waves and carries you back to shore where it’s safe and warm by his side.

   “Come here, Starlight. Just lay back and take the pleasure,” he purrs as he glides his massive cock into your slippery folds, spreading you wide as he starts to rock his hips back and forth, feeding himself inside you as your walls clench up around him. 

   You lay back into the dampening sheets as his body presses you deeper into the mattress, his hands tangled in your hair, your own legs wrapped tight around his broad back as you moan with every stroke of his cock. You feel the pressure inside you coiling tight, feeling as if you’ll come undone again at any second. This is what you love, what you revel in, what you need most in this world. It’s him. 

   You lay sprawled in the damp sheets, bodies tangled together like magnets colliding as you stare up into the wide mirror, the motions of his broad body reflecting in your wide eyes as you take the pleasure again and again.

   “Marcus,” you cry out, pleading for him, begging him not to stop as you watch him take you harder, your nails dragging down his back with every deep thrust he gives you as he kisses the back of your cervix repeatedly. 

   “Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, Starlight?” he coos against the shell of your ear as he traces his lips up up up until he’s hovering straight over your lips, his mouth teasing as he nips at your bottom lip.

   “Marcus,” you repeat, your heart straining for him to kiss you.

   Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. It’s all you want, all you need. Like air to fill your lungs, he’s all it takes.

   It takes him less than two seconds to collapse his lips onto yours like he’s as desperate for air as you, like he might die if he doesn’t fill the space between the two of you. You moan into his mouth, tasting salt and sunlight crash against your taste buds as his tongue licks inside your panting mouth. He groans into the kiss, tangling his large tongue with yours as you chase him and let him swallow you down like it’s his last night to live.

    He deepens the kiss, pulling you flush to his chest as he turns you around while still inside you, landing on his back as he laces his fingers through your locks, moaning your name with every lick and every taste he takes from you. It’s like the gods have blessed you, bringing you this man, this mountain of a man that feeds your every need. And gods, you don’t think you will ever get enough of him.

   He disconnects from your swollen lips, resting his sweat covered forehead on yours as he concentrates on his swift strokes inside you, planting his hands firmly on your hips as he takes you for the ride of your life. “Yeah, that’s it, Starlight, You’re almost there, I can feel how much you’re squeezing. Let it out, let me feel it,” he growls through clenched teeth, trying not to fall apart before you do.

   He speeds up his thrusts, filling you fuller than anyone else has before, rutting into you at just the right angle where you can feel him start to uncoil all your tethered connections as your body slackens against his hold on you. 

   One more hard, long thrust and you’re done. “Marcusssss,” you moan, feeling the heat slide down and spill over his entirety as you fall flush into his strong chest. He takes initiative and thrusts deeper, much harder than before, desperate to chase his own release.

   He threads his brows together and groans your name quietly, his lips lingering over the shell of your ear as he takes three more breaths and then spills ropes of hot white cum inside your sticky core. 

   You moan together in ecstasy, bodies entwined as he empties his seed inside you, chests heaving with exhaustion as he carefully pulls out from inside you and collapses on the bed with a thud, your body slack against his as the damp, dirty sheets shift around your naked bodies. 

   After a few seconds of ragged breaths, he pulls your back flush against his sweaty chest and drapes an arm around you, holding you close as you let the sun slowly slip behind dark clouds that paint the sky violet colors.

   “You need a bath,” you giggle as you lace your fingers through his.

   “So do you,” he chuckles, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a huff. “Just let me lay here a few more minutes. I’m exhausted,” he murmurs as he pulls you as close as humanly possible to his warm chest. You cozy up to him and sigh, relaxing into his warm touch, reveling in this soft moment that seems more rare than nights you get him all to yourself. 

   The room is sweltering, his scent clinging to every part of your body as you bathe in the smell of sweat, dirt, spice, and something that smells a lot just like him. He’s like your very own glass of fine wine, the perfect combination of class and just downright filth. He’s just… perfect. Perfect for you, the only man you truly want. And maybe that’s because you’re in love with him. Maybe that’s why you cling to him as much as you can, afraid he’ll be taken from you at a moment’s notice.

   You can’t lie to yourself, you’re absolutely terrified each time he steps into that arena, knowing the emperor wouldn’t even bat an eyelash if a man slaughtered him to shreds. You fidget against the damp sheets, cringing at the thought of blood filling his lungs, his body parts pulled apart by barbarians as he takes his last breath and slips into the dark abyss. 

   You clamp your eyes shut, thinking of Mina dragging him off to get married, thinking of him choosing another woman over you once he’s offered to cut ties in the arena if he marries someone with a higher title. You tremble at the thought of him leaving you all alone, like you never meant anything to him, like you were just a ragdoll for him to control whenever he wanted, like you don’t mean a damn thing other than knowing you’ll always be there at his command when he wants to blow some steam off from the arena. 

   You fight the uncontrollable tears that lick the backs of your eyes, plead to not break down in front of him, beg the gods to have some mercy on your soul if you were about to lose this man. You can’t lose him; you won’t lose him, unless he walks away and tells you to stay like a helpless dog losing their only person they know will take care of them.

   You can’t stand it, can’t hold in the emotions any longer, so you let them flow, feeling the tears like icy shards spilling down your burning cheeks.

   “Hey, hey, hey. Are you crying?” he asks with alarm in his deep, gravelly voice.

   “No,” you croak out as another tear falls like raindrops on the bed. 

   “Hey now, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,” he pushes softly, turning you around till you’re facing his direction, concern laced in his soft brown eyes.

   You stare at him with sad eyes, nervously twisting your fingers in the silky sheets that are now covered in grime and sweat. You can’t tell him you’re scared to lose him, you just… can’t.

   “Starlight, talk to me. Tell me what it is.” His fingertips brush off a falling tear, and you shake your head slowly. 

   “It’s nothing…”

   He cups your chin and tilts your head up to where your eyes are aligned with his, and in those eyes swims the most sincere gaze he’s ever given you in his entire life. “It’s not nothing if it’s making you cry. Now talk to me. I’m right here.”

   His fingertips feel like velvet dragging across your cheek, soft brown eyes weighing into yours as he gives you his full attention. And it’s no use now hiding your feelings; you need to just clear the air and get it off your chest.

   You take a deep breath and focus before you choke your words out. “I’m scared, Marcus.”

   “Scared of what?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he hears you out.

   “Of losing you…”

   He sighs and runs his thumb gently down your jawline, stroking it up and down as the soothing feeling seems to settle your nerves. “Oh, Starlight. You’re never going to lose me.”

   You swallow the thick lump in your throat, holding back tears as you shake your head. “I could lose you any day in that arena. The things they put you through, the people you have to kill, the absolute horror you have to go through just to stay alive!” 

   His eyes go wide, but he lets you continue. “I don’t want to watch you die, Marcus! I don’t want them to keep feeding you to the wolves like you’re some kind of mindless entertainment for the city of Rome!”

   He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, slowly opening them back up as he cups the back of your neck. “I know, baby. I know…”

   Baby? That’s new….

   “Just trust me that I know what I’m doing, and that I’ll fight like hell to win my freedom back,” he sighs, his eyes glistening with a look like pain etched in the crevices of those golden brown irises.  

   “What if your freedom meant taking a wife, marrying someone with a title…” you whisper, barely able to lock eyes as he scrunches his forehead together.

   “What?” he asks with lines mapped against his tanned skin, considering your ridiculous question. “What do you mean take a wife with a title?”

   “Someone like Mina,” you murmur quietly.

   “Mina?” he asks with wide eyes.

   “She’s been obsessed with you ever since you first stepped into that arena. The way she looks at you… she could have you with a snap of her fingers if only she asked her father. And Marcus, I don’t want…”

   “Whoa there, slow down. Mina? Where is all this coming from? I have no interest in Mina.”

   You gulp, eyes dropping to the twisted sheets as you feel your heart stutter in your chest. “I overhear her all the time. The way she swoons over you, the way she dreams that one day you’ll notice her in the arena. And then… and what if you want to get married? Not even to her, but to someone with money, a title, someone royal, maybe someone that’ll get you out of here quicker? What if you…”

   You close your eyes tight, afraid you’ve spoken too much, afraid you’ve ruined everything as you lay in a heap with your heart pounding in your chest like a ticking time bomb. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did that, if you saved yourself from the brink of death. But I… I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, too. If you were to choose someone else…”

   You let the tears collect in your eyes, feel them slipping down your face as you try your best not to throw anything else frantic and chaotic into the stormy clouds above Rome. You’ve already said too much, too fast. You weren’t supposed to say anything.

   He lifts his head and stares at you, wordlessly assessing your fragile features as his eyes turn a soft brown, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes become glossy like yours. “Starlight, no. I don’t want Mina, I never did. And I would never ever leave you for someone else, even if it got me out of that pit faster. The only woman I want to see is you. If I haven’t made that clear before, I’m sorry. But… baby, you belong to me. You’re mine.”

   “I’m… yours?” you ask carefully, your tears spilling over the edges uncontrollably as you cling to his chest.

   “Of course you’re mine, Starlight. You’ve been mine since the first day I locked eyes on your beautiful face,” he whispers, curling a lock of hair behind your ear as you breathe in deep, surrounding yourself in the very essence of him as he tells you exactly how he’s felt the whole time this has been going on. “I’ve been yours longer than you know.”

   You whimper out a sigh, threading your fingers through his tousled hair as you stare into starry brown eyes that you’d really like to slip in and stay for all eternity. “Really?” you ask with wonder in your eyes.

   “Really,” he nods. “Do you know why I call you Starlight?”

   “No,” you whisper quietly, shaking your head as a fresh tear streams down your skin. He catches it with his thumb and caresses your cheek gently as his calloused fingers soothe your cloudy thoughts. 

   “Because you’re the brightest thing I see every single time I step into that arena. The only thing that keeps me fighting week after week in that bloodbath is you, so I can get back to you.”

   His answer leaves you completely breathless as you suck in warm air, your body still as you look longingly at the man that starts devastating wildfires in your heart.

   “Me?” you ask in a shaky breath.

   “You,” he nods with a smile. “The very first time I stepped into the arena, the first thing that crossed my vision was your eyes. Those beautiful, sparkling eyes were the only thing I focused on, the only thing that kept me from losing myself on that battlefield was you.”

   You gasp, his deep words taking the breath from your lungs as he confesses about the first time he noticed you, saw you, really, truly saw you. You weren’t invisible to him. You were never invisible. “Marcus…” you say shakily as he strokes your jawline lovingly. “But… I… I’m just a simple woman. I have no titles, no money to my name, no prospects. I’m just… me,” you state slowly.

   He sighs, cupping his hand around the back of your head as his fingers lazily stroke through your strands gently. “I don’t care, Starlight. I don’t care about money or titles or really anything about an important name. What's life of riches and freedom if I can’t have you?” 

   You swear your heart blooms like lush roses in your chest as you hear those words repeat again and again in your mind. He wants you, he wants you.

   “I want you,” he repeats, as if he can hear the sounds of doubt play in your mind like a music box that won’t stop spinning. 

   He cups both sides of your face and looks at you with pure intent in his glossy brown eyes. “I want you every day, every minute, every second, and I burn for you in that arena,” he promises as his lips graze over yours delicately. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you sitting in the audience all wide-eyed and beautiful. And I want you even more now that I have you, want you by my side every minute of every day because I can’t stand the thought of losing you. And I’ll fight like hell to earn my freedom back because I love you.”

   He loves you.

   “Marcus, I…” 

   He crashes his lips against yours, a hot, needy, yearning kiss that nearly sends you soaring into the night sky as his lips surge like fire through your very veins. It’s soft like snow, kissing at your eyelashes as you let him pull you flush to his chest, needing to be as close as possible as love burns through your bodies, connecting them together as if this is the very first time you both ache to collide together. 

   “I love you, Marcus,” you whisper against his lips.

   He pulls you on top of his chest and sinks his mouth down on yours, slowly slotting his tongue in your mouth, drawing lazily circles as he drinks you down as you allow him to take all of you. Whatever he wants, whatever he needs from you he has. He tastes like the stars that shimmer in the sky, and you’ll be his entire galaxy, his Starlight that’ll guide him off the battlefield of the arena and back into your arms where he’s safe from harm.

   When he disconnects from your mouth, he stares at you, his soft brown eyes shimmering up at you as he runs his calloused fingers tenderly through your hair. “You’re mine, Starlight.”

   “I’m yours,” you repeat, smiling down at him as he brushes his lips against your forehead, kissing you with love written all over his touch as he pulls you up from the bed. 

   “Come on, my love. Let’s go take a bath,” he says softly as he picks you up and carries you to the bathing chamber, his strong arms cradling you against his warm chest as he places a lasting kiss to your forehead. 

   All your worries are shed, all false pretenses are gone, everything you were mourning over is suddenly lifted off your shoulders as they fly away into the night sky. This man is yours, and he’s never ever planning on letting you go. 

   Starlight shines brighter than any Roman Empire games, and you’re his guiding light back home.

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ Things Sylus would do as a lover

Sylus is the type of lover to open the door for you, whether it be his car door when he drives you to wherever you want, or a restaurant door, mall door, shop door, all doors. Honestly, it’s quite cute when he uses his evol to almost push you back just so he can open the door for you. Afterwards he definitely plays it cool like nothing ever happened. When you ask him about why he pushed you back, he’ll give a half-assed answer like, “It seems the wind is strong today.”

When you’re on your period Sylus is so gentle and so understanding, but also so knowledgeable that it makes you question how?? You asked him one time and he just said, “I know everything, sweetie.” (He took care of you in your past life)

Sylus somehow has everything prepared in the base, pads, tampons, menstrual cups, chocolate (along with a lot of other desserts that he had a professional baker make), soft self-heating blankets, a hot water bottle, a heap of crow plushies. He also gives the best tummy rubs, his hands are big but also warm so you sometimes use him instead of the blanket or hot water bottle.

Even though he has a chef, he prefers to cook for you and even when you offer to help he refuses, only letting you ‘help’ in the simple things, like picking out a salad dressing, or picking the sauce for barbeque, adding the finishing touches on a dish (placing a basil on the pasta he made). 

Sylus is the type of lover that knows all of the ‘rules’ and sometimes plays around with them, for instance he abides the sidewalk rule and walks at your pace if you’re walking a little bit slower. He’ll gently drape his jacket (or suit) on your shoulders when you’re cold and hold your hand tightly when navigating through crowds or just going around anywhere, albeit the N109 zone or in Linkon. He often jokes around, he’ll always have something to say when he does these things. When you say you’ll be fine and you won’t need to bring a jacket he’ll say something along the lines of “And then you’ll come and ask for mine like before. I’m not a philanthropist, kitten.” as he shakes his head. In the end he gave you his jacket. 

Sylus is the type of lover that’ll agree to letting you do all sorts of skincare on him. He walks in one night and sees a face mask on your face and he’s immediately roped in to be your little test subject as you try out different things on him, shaving his stubble, applying a face mask and moisturizer. 

A/N: I love this man so much, he’s such a green flag <3 First post!! Please submit anything you'd want me to write I'd love to try more! Art creds: Nightplumes - Love and Deepspace Dividers by @omi-resources

[sleepymothafterhours]

Torture to Love You, Can't Live Without You

Zayne x Reader angst

Reader is not MC, MC Dies so I guess you could call it major character death? Angst with kind of no ending?

---> Part two here <3

Fic warnings: Death, grief descriptions, unhappy marriage but they're literally just grieving,

This fic is not beta read, and has been edited to the best of my ability,

Word Count: 4,000

Divider credit in my pinned post <3

Full fic under the cut, I have a part two planned out if this fic does well,

At the end of the day there was always you and her. You'd never be her but you were content with that, in school she was a good rival and maybe at first it used to irk you how special everyone seemed to think she was but as you got closer you realized she never asked to be treated that way. Tara had introduced you, such a social butterfly that girl. On missions you fought well, you worked together with ease often getting paired up on more dangerous outings. The day she died it was like part of you went missing. You could only imagine how it was for her close friend.

The day she died haunted you like a ghost. It would've been you, i could've been you. She didn't have to do that for you.

She didn't have to do that for you.

You sat in front of Jenna's office with a letter in your hand. You'd been on leave for months, stuck with office work to do at home to ensure you at least got paid so you could live while you were recovering. The time was fast approaching for you to either go back to the field or pick something else. Everyone you knew expected you to go back. In a lot of ways it felt like a dishonor to your dear friend not to. But you just couldn't. No amount of therapy took away the nightmares and so far no amount of meds was taking away the pain in your body from your own injuries. No doctor could clear you for the field with the level of pain you were still experiencing. You didn't want to go back anyway, you were scared. You waited outside her office for her other meeting to finish.

What you hadn't expected was for Dr.Zayne to walk out of that room. Too busy staring at him and wondering why he was here you entirely missed what he was saying to you. "Are you alright?" He asked kneeling down to your level, he held a cup of water out for you. You took it gratefully, "I'm alright. Thank you, Dr.Zayne." You two only spoke in passing, even out with your mutual friends. "I trust you've been well? Since.." He trailed off like it pained him to talk about the accident, you nodded. "As well as I can. That's why I'm here. I'm leaving the field." You said, a hint of regret in your voice. Zayne nodded, by the time his mouth opened to say something the doors to Jenna's office were open, and you were already on the way inside.

---------

That was all you saw of him for a year and a half. You didn't keep up with him, and it wasn't like he actively sought you out. It was probably a miracle you even found each other again. He found you in your favorite coffee shop of all places, after you'd finished teaching your classes. Teaching exhausted you, but it kept food on your table, and in the words of others, ensured you could still honor your friend. Regardless, you sat in your corner of the building sipping hot chocolate and working on a research paper about protocores. You'd written a few things on wanderers, architecture in Linkon, whatever seemed to catch your interest for the moment. You spotted Zayne first, though you almost didn't recognize his face. It was strange how someone could change so much after just 18 months.

Had you changed that much?

Or did you still look the same as you had that day.

The thought of it made your skin crawl and you focused on your computer to get it out of your mind. You didn't notice his approach.

"Do you make a habit to tune out everything around you?" His voice brought you out of it, closing a tab as you looked up at him.

"Doctor, what a pleasant surprise." You said moving your computer to invite him to sit down. "I don't mean to ignore you. I was just focused, I do a lot of work here. Do you come here a lot as well Doctor?"

Zayne gives you a slight smile and you can't help but cheer internally at the gesture, "Please, just call me Zayne." He says, his gaze lingers on you as you slip your computer into your bag. "Don't let me interrupt your work. I should be off anyway." He says moving to stand again, you still don't know why you stopped him.

"No. No trouble at all. You can only read so many articles about the rise of protocore modifications before your head starts to spin. Sit with me? Please?" You don't know why you keep talking and Zayne doesn't know why he's sitting, he really ought to be heading back to the hospital.

Maybe you were both drowning and maybe it was just easier to sink together.

Maybe that was why things happened the way they did.

The two of you talked for hours. It was refreshing the way he didn't bring the accident up. The way he didn't bring up losing her. You suspected it was as much for your benefit as it was for him. After a year and a half of pulling yourself through the trenches you finally found yourself talking to someone who made you feel, normal, it was like coming up for air after being trapped in a lake.

"I am happy to see you well after everything." Zayne says after a moment. "Is teaching future hunters as fulfilling as you found hunting to be?"

The truth? It nowhere close. But you don't hate it.

"It has its moments. I do enjoy what I do. And after everything I.." You trail off, struggling to find the right words. "I'm happy I could find a way to stay in this career. Regardless of what I'm doing." It was the most roundabout way you've ever told someone no, and you can tell that Zayne sees right through it. You wished you could have stayed.

He nods, "Maybe fate will take you back." He said giving you an almost soft look.

"You've written quite a bit about your research on Protocore syndrome right?" You ask, the silence that had drawn between the two of you becoming too much to bear. He nods, "Are you going to the gala in a couple weeks? They're celebrating some of the works that recently came out. I thought I saw you on the list they sent out."

He nods again, "I admit I was hoping to see you there." His ears redden as he says this and you can't help the smile that comes to your face.

"i was hoping the same. Everyone else is some old far or some posh snob who's never actually seen what its like out here, Ya know?" You take a sip of your drink, now long cold, "It'd be nice to have someone there that I know." Zayne nods his agreement to this and the conversation moves on for another hour, until you have to leave.

You thank him for sitting with you for so long, picking up your bag and discarding your drink. He stops you again before you can leave the table.

"Do you wanna go to the Gala with me?" his words make your heart skip and you find yourself nodding before you can even really put thought into it.

---------

Zayne came crashing into your life similarly to the way a snowstorm did, expected but sudden. He was always there in a lot of ways during your time as a hunter, you had enough mutual friends to at least know of him. The transition from acquaintance to friend was so subtle you didn't notice, you met weekly for coffee at the cafe when you could, or he'd find you there after work.

Then suddenly you knew his coffee order, and were taking him coffee and dinner during late nights in his office.

There were nights you would talk, and the two of you would have dinner in his office, you'd never been around someone who was so easy to talk to, Zayne just understood.

At one point you'd stayed to talk so long that you ended up eating dinner together, it was dark by the time you went to leave, and Zayne had insisted on taking you home.

He'd kissed you that night. After months of you thinking he was uninterested in anything more than simply colleagues.

You both got so busy that after you could do hardly more than text each other, it took a month of wondering if he'd meant to do it or not, a month for him to ask you out.

He proposed after four years, conveniently the night before another gala much like the one you'd gone to together before you got close.

Once again you were both being recognized for a lot of your work and researches, him, a deeper dive into protocore syndrome, you, a paper on how Evols affect personality traits and how that can be managed for people with more explosive evols and personalities. You used your relationship with Zayne a lot in that paper, with two completely clashing evols it was hard sometimes to get by.

Fire and ice,

maybe that was a sign you should've thought about before.

---------

You looked like the perfect couple. For awhile you felt like it too. You couldn't tell what happened. The two of you were doing better finally. You honored her every year on the day, holding each other and helping each other get through your grief everyday. You knew he loved you. You knew he loved her and you respected that. You understood as well as you could.

After your honeymoon you fell back into your routine, teach in the day, take Zayne lunch during your time to plan, go home and grade papers until he gives you a call that he should be home within the hour. You made dinner and the two of you spent time together until you fell asleep on the couch. Zayne would carry you to bed despite the countless times that you told him to wake you.

You couldn't pin point the day it all started going down hill. But you knew that it had something to do with the mission that dragged you back into hunting, the intercom ringing in your ears and the voice of an OTTO bot calling for every trained hunter in the building. Every student was to go back to their dorm. You tried, to leave with the students, with a soft spoken, "I don't do that anymore." said mostly to yourself as you followed students out to the dorms.

That was until you heard the cry. A little girl trapped under a building, you ran before your feet could keep up with you, the grace you learned in your training never left you, a hunter caught up with you, a student from a few years back. He helped you lift the bean that had trapped the girl and looked to you for direction. "Get her to safety and meet me a few blocks up." You ran the other way the minute he nodded right towards danger, right where you weren't supposed to be going.

Right where you wanted to be.

After the fight you assisted with cleanup, carefully avoiding the eyes of your old boss as you helped a little boy step into an ambulance. Zayne found you shortly after, sitting on a stump and bandaging your arm, people had begun to go home but the cut was pretty bad and you wanted to take care of it before you left.

"You're hurt." He said kneeling down to take the bandages out of your hands, "This is too tight, let me help?" His voice was soft, you couldn't tell if he was worried, angry or both. You nodded and carefully he unwrapped the bandage and began to clean it. "Sorry I broke routine tonight." you blurted, you weren't really thinking when you said, wrapped up in the crackling of a fire somewhere near you, and his laugh filling your ears. A laugh?

"My love. You're bleeding, but you're sorry for..breaking routine?" He looked up at you befuddled, his hands stopping their work on your injury. You shrugged, "You never cease to amaze me." He said after a moment. "We're going home. And we're ordering whatever you want for dinner and you are going to rest." His voice was more firm than normal and when your boss came over to you finally he seemed to stand slightly in front of you as if to keep her from taking you from him too.

She joked about you coming back, you told her you were just following instruction. The announcement called for all hunters. You politely declined her offer and stiffened when she joked about how you could make more if you came back. Zayne brushed her off for you, saying something about getting you home to ensure your arm healed.

The silence in the car home was almost unbearable. "She's right ya know." You said softly, "I'd make a lot more back in the field." Zayne kept his focus on the road but you could tell the words bothered him.

"We don't really need it. You and I are doing just fine." You slumped back in your seat at his words. "You never did it for the money anyway. Do you want to go back?" He asks and you can't answer right away. The answer used to be no, you used to be too scared but somewhere down the line you missed the danger, you missed the fire you had within you that had dimmed after the accident. Your evol felt suppressed from only being used to heat the forgotten teas you took to work or occasionally to light a gas stove.

You'd smothered your fire as best you could all these years but yet it still seemed to roar within, and consume you with every passing day. The answer should have been no but you couldn't bear lie to the man next to you.

"No." You waited too long to say anything,

"You've always been bad at lying." He's stopped at a light and turns to you to move a piece of your hair, you can see he almost looks defeated when you say nothing in response to this.

--------

If you could have pinpointed the minute, maybe even the second that he had started being distant from you, colder even, maybe you could have prevented it, but it was so hard to realize it was happening when he acted the exact same in public as he had before. He followed his routines almost to a T but he spent more and more time at work. Often coming home to you asleep on the couch waiting for him, until eventually he found you already in bed when he got there, always careful not to wake you when he climbed into bed. You could pinpoint the night he stopped holding you by the way your heart began to ache for it immediately.

It took 3 months to transition back into your old job and ever since it was like you lived with a ghost. He was gone when you woke for work, he was gone when you came home but there was always a dish in the drying rack and a paper on the counter that he had left behind to prove his existence. At least you could be sure he hadn't moved into his office even though every other piece of evidence told you otherwise. The times he was home with you it was like he was on another planet, that was if you could get him out of his office at the house for more than two seconds. His affection had a cold bite to it that made you stop seeking it and when he looked in your eyes it was almost clear all he saw in them was her. His coldness did nothing but make you more persistent at first. But after so long you just grew tired, you loved him with everything in you couldn't he understand that?

You liked to imagine that there was another life where you both weren't so different. But maybe in another life he ends up with her in the end, maybe there's a universe where she isn't a wedge in your relationship maybe you won't be together in this life, not the way you want but in the next... Maybe you just have to wait. What a cursed thin g love was.

He stood in front of you now for the first time in months, Tara had invited you both for drinks after work, a nice little place just a block away from your house, you were gonna walk together.

"You look lovely." He says and there's a flicker of something in his eyes that gives you hope that maybe he's looking at you for real this time, but then its gone. He's looking right through you.

Your response is as calm as you could manage to be, "I'm surprised you noticed."

The two of you left, making the walk there in a comfortable silence. Zayne played the dutiful husband role well. He held your hand, he held open the door for you, took your coat, pulled out your chair. To anyone else he looked so smitten with you, and you him. You shook your thoughts out of your mind, you were here tonight to have fun.

You didn't drink often, nor did you drink much. You figured offering him a sip of your drink would be fine, and he must've too because he took it. The way he scrunched his face in disgust made you giggle, he took a bigger drink than you thought he would. "Here, have some water, are you okay?" You ask pushing a glass of ice water to him. He waves you away, takes the glass and drinks but tells you to focus on your friends.

You forgot how much of a lightweight he was. One drink was enough to get him at least tipsy? It would have been funny, if you weren't concerned.

You'd been talking to Tara. who gushed over the two of you whenever she saw you. "Really i don't know how you two do it. You looks so happy all the time." She's smiling as she speaks, the only time you've seen her without a smile on her face was just after incident, it used to annoy you how one person could be so happy but you found yourself unable to frown whenever she's around now.

"Trust me Tara I don't know how we do it either sometimes." She doesn't know how much truth there is to your words. How this is the first time in almost a year that Zayne has been so close to you. How this is the first time in months you've seen or talked to him for more than five minutes. That this is the first time he's wanted to be around you since you became a hunter again.

+++

Zayne only seems to get drunker as the night progressed despite the fact that he hadn't had anything else but water.

"I think I should get him home." You said giving your friends a smile, you'd paid for your drink, the one you hadn't finished, too busy making sure your husband doesn't fall out of his seat. You help him up, he's not exactly hard to move but the man is stubborn. "Baby c'mon, lets home, I'm tired." He concedes finally at your words and you walk home. He's leaning on you for support the whole way out of the bar, even as you nod to your friends and wish them a good night.

You have to stop for a little while, sitting him down, the air is cold. You try not to shiver. "How'd this even happen huh?" You tease him softly, holding his face in your hands. It feels normal for once.

"I'm sorry my love." his words are slurred and he notices your failed attempts to hide your shivering, wrapping his coat around you clumsily. "I love you." He's looking straight through you again through unfocused eyes.

"Do you." Its not a question. You two walk leaning on each other until you reach the house. You drop your keys trying to unlock the door. When he hands them to you, you hear it. A mistake. A slip of the tongue. Maybe he could claim he was drunk but it was clear.

He'd called you by her name.

You didn't say anything. He tried covering his mistake, you said nothing. Pushing past him into the medicine cabinet in your kitchen you grabbed water and ibuprofen and took some. You slid past his attempts to be close to you guiding him to your room.

He's distraught, you feel like you're falling to pieces. "Lie down." You instruct. "You're not gonna feel good in the mor-" He interrupts you as you're trying to cover him in a blanket.

"Talk to me. Please." He's pleading, his voice breaking, it used to hurt your heart to hear it, maybe it still does but you can't feel anything right now other than anger, you feel like your on fire.

"You're drunk."

"Talk to me." There are tears in his eyes.

"What is there to say, Zayne. You called me, by your dead best friends name." You sit at the edge of the bed. "I can't b angry I know you loved her. I know you want her. I just wish you wanted me the same way." You get up and go to make your way out of the room. You need to calm down, maybe you'll go for a walk, or have some tea.

Flicking the light off you hear it. A quiet sob, and a small "I'm sorry."

You can't help the words that leave your mouth. "Don't bother."

The light is off and the door is shut and you the minute you sit down on a stool in your kitchen island you break down. You felt like two puzzle pieces that fit together just fine but were from two separate puzzles. You took time to put yourself back together, eventually getting up to go to your room, apologize if he was still awake and go to bed hoping to fix whatever rift has been growing in your relationship. Your hand is on the door, you just need to open it.

Your phone rings.

You can see the light come on from your hunter watch in the bedroom.

Ignore it. Go to sleep. Fix this. That's what you're telling yourself.

You answer it before you can stop yourself.

"Hello?" Your voice cracks from your breakdown.

"Hey." Its a newer hunter, you'd been working with her for months. You were too scared to get closer to her but for now you didn't mind mentoring her. "Got a mission. You're on the way can I come get you?"

Her words are so scarily similar to what you told your best friend that night. You turn away from the door. "Let's go then."

How strange the universe was in the way it worked. How strange the parallel was. You put on your uniform in silence. Zayne had fallen asleep as far as you knew. You stopped by his side before you left, kissing his head softly. You don't say anything else as you leave.

Unbeknownst to you. He wasn't asleep, he heard the whole thing. He too noticed the parallels. He wouldn't sleep that night. Or the night after.

He was losing you and he didn't know how to stop it.

You were losing him and it felt like someone was carving your heart from your chest.

Sleepy moths after thoughts: Everytime i went to work on this fic I either got called into work, or my friends wanted to hang out, thats why it took so fuckin long. Hopefully the wait was worth it, Thanks for reading and thank you everyone who supported this fic <3

Taglist: @theink-stainedfolk , @alfredosaws , @sylv-1a , @cordidy , @leighsartworks216 , @midiplier , @melonssoup , @sw3etfawn111 , @dhunhdchrih , @i-messed-up-big-time , @fandomenbylover , @notisekais

@theophxbia cus i know pookie probably wants to read it (ILY BESTIE)

[lazyjellyfish300]

12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 ~𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑶𝒏𝒆

CW: x fem!reader, smut, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, older dadbod!kento and older reader, mention of having kids ,fluff, au, reader is chubby/plump/curvy

A/n: I had a vision. Some of the plot from the movie Klaus and my unquenchable desire inspired this. it's still the 12th where I am so we're still on time 😩 Idk even what I'm getting myself into with Smutmas but we're gonna say fuck it and see how it goes and how much I can do 🥰

12 days of smutmas masterlist

Wc: 1.5k

dividers by @/saradika-graphics. pics from pinterest.

Hear me out, Kento Nanami as Santa Claus...

Nanami, who retired at the age of 28 and moved to Malaysia. Who loved the sun and lived on that beach for many years.

Nanami, who traded in the powdery white sand and teal seafoam for a humble cabin and blankets of snow in a thicket of evergreens in the far, far north sometime around after he turned 40.

Nanami, who realizes he's got it bad for you, the lovely woman who rides by his cabin while he's chopping wood, on your merry way to sell your world famous cranberry jam to the local village.

Nanami, who has fought some of the most menacing curses known to man, but can't muster up the courage to invite you in for hot chocolate, until one evening.

Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who simply can't say no to the beautiful blonde man with scars on the left side of his face, with crinkled eyes sweeter than the butterscotch goodies you loved to bake, a quiet handsomeness and gentleness he possessed that rattles the forgotten corners of your heart that no man has reached before.

Nanami and Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who both realize when you find yourselves accidentally underneath the mistletoe, that being "just friends" isn't gonna last much longer.

Nanami, who feels so warm and sweet like the peppermint tea he was drinking as he kisses you for the first time.

Nanami, who accidentally leaves a quiet moan in your mouth as the kiss gently escalates in intensity next to the cackling fire. Who turns red and apologizes for moving too fast but doesn't get to finish his sentence before you just grab him and press your lips against his with an even hungrier fervor than before.

Nanami, whose lips part at the elegant curves of your body and how they're even more bewitching against the silk of his sheets.

Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who coos softly, "Kento...", whose fragile voice quivers and shudders as your tight walls gently get coaxed open to the fat swollen tip of his long, heavy cock.

Nanami, whose hands intertwine with yours, who's in love by the first stroke, as your pussy just welcomes him, so soft and gushy, as it tightly embraces every inch.

Nanami and Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who are lost to the throes of pleasure that first passionate night in the cabin. Your legs end up on his shoulders as his thrusting only gets faster and harder in sexy rhythm before he cums inside you, only to sweetly interrupt your fleeting high with the unexpected but delicious warmth of his tongue as he shamelessly laps his love out of you, before a finger or two is added, before he's hard again, and you're onto round 2 already.

---

Timeskip to Kento Nanami who's 58 years old. His belly is softer and hangs over his pants thanks to you, his darling plump wife, who knows how to feed him and his bulking to adjust for the harsh conditions over time.

Nanami, whose golden locks are now overwhelmed by streaks of grey with chest, arm, leg hair, and a happy trail to match. Whose crows feet are more pronounced with laugh lines he's added along with his scars as memories he's made with you. Who's taken the liberty of growing his beard out ever since you complimented it.

Nanami, with a pair of thick thighs and a juicy bum that pillows when he sits in his chair by the fire after giving you a kiss, the fleeting cold on his lips, cheeks still rosy, and the faint gleam of sweat on his brow from working in the snow.

Nanami, who has always been that sweet soul you fell in love with and decides one year to leave the wooden creations he made in his shop for your future children you never had as surprises for the local kids in the village as a random act of goodwill.

Nanami, who realizes his small gesture is now the talk of the town and the kids can't wait for the mysterious "Santa Claus" to visit if they're lucky again.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who loads up a bag on his sled pulled by a small team of reindeer, visiting home after home to ensure no kids are left behind, a twinkle in his eye as he rides away into the night and imagines the adorable smiles that will break out that morning.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who now has a large workshop of loyal elves after they happened upon your humble abode in search of work one day.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's the best boss around and offers free meals, a place to live, PTO, paid vacations, a pension, retirement, and 3 years worth of parental leave to his elves in exchange for their labor.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who upgraded to 9 reindeer who are the best kept reindeer on planet earth, spoiled with endless carrots and pets and cuddles to pull his sleigh every Christmas.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who loves Christmas and all the cookies and milk the kids leave out for him but not quite as much as growing old with you, Mrs. Claus.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's on the cusp of 60 and still fucks like he's in his twenties when he's alone with his you, his lovely wife.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's more pent up than ever before but you wouldn't know it until Christmas Day when he lumbers into your shared bedroom after a busy night of delivering presents.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who doesn't need mistletoe to fuck your brains out. The workshop is empty, every one is home celebrating the holiday that was a year in the making while he's slowly peeling those frilly pajamas off your body and discarding them on the polished wooden floor.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's eating his favorite cookie of all, the one between your thighs that seems to mold to his tongue like you were made just for him by now.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who drinks his fair share of homemade ale but has never been drunker than right now when he's going down on you.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who has a knack for licking his plate clean(hence his dadbod) which has only served him extremely well when it comes to licking up both sides, underneath and all around your perky clit in slobbery trails that leave you a shaky mess.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who is happy to take his time. The gift of aging has left you both with a delay in getting ready, but it's considered a win since you both could spend all day with your heads in each other's crotches like it was all you were meant to do.

Santa Claus!Nanami who whispers in your neck while he fingers you,

"So good for me, darling. Always so warm and wet for me. I'm such a lucky man..."

"Did you think of me while I was gone, sweetheart? Bet you did, oh I can tell, darling. So naughty underneath that innocent smile...and just for me..."

"Kento..." You rasp as his lips snake around your nipple as he angles his thick fingers that are soaked by now in search for all those spots that make you cry to the stars, the soft wisps of his beard scratching the wrinkly skin of your inner thighs, and the aching bud of your clit. "Gonna cum too f-fast..."

"Isn't that the point, darling?" He groans. "You know I love it when you soak my beard. Don't be shy, now, love..."

And when you do his eyes are closed and he's humming like he tasted dessert for the very first time, nectar stained beard he wears with pride and it's no surprise he's already going back for seconds.

Santa Claus!Nanami and Mrs. Claus!Reader, who've been at it for nearly two hours now, surpassing the record you two set last Christmas.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's already cummed inside you twice, but hasn't quite had enough of you yet. Your mouth is dribbling up and down his shaft with mindless strokes of your head and eyes rolled back. You're relishing the salty taste, saliva mixed with the milky white thinly dripping around the base, letting the absent-minded little thin spurt of cum for his nth orgasm trickle down your throat while his tongue lazily squelched in and out of the unrecognizable gob of juices that built around your wet entrance from endless orgasms he drew out of you already, groaning when you manage to squirt another warm trickle right into his waiting mouth.

Santa Claus!Nanami and Mrs. Claus!Reader, now cuddled up in one another in the large porcelain tub with the jacuzzi jets, faint smell of pinecone candles lit on the countertop and bubbles all around you easing their way into your aching joints.

"Merry Christmas," he whispers to you.

Santa Claus!Nanami, whom with forever only gets sweeter as the blissful passage of time with him by your side makes it feel like Christmas every single day.

@actuallysaiyan

[annieiswriting]

long night — short night

summary; spencer arrives late at work which is weird, morgan has an idea of why…but hey, he has a dirty mind!

warnings; allusions to smut

a/n; very short!

gif ; divider

Spencer arrived in late this morning, rushing to the small kitchen of the sixth floor. There, he met Derek, pouring himself hot chocolate.

“Well hello there genius!” he mused as he saw his tired form. But there was…something different about him, the famous cliché of the aftermath. “Long night?” He smirked. Reid hummed.

“Very,” he yawned, putting a lot of sugar into his mug. His eyes were met with a mischievous smile from his coworker. “N—not that kind of night!” He stuttered.

Oh, yes it was.

He sat up with the sheets covering his chest, searching for his clothes. Careful not to wake you. It was still early, and you usually woke up later than him, as you worked as a teacher in kindergarten. You already cuddled for a long time, when he was supposed to be already up.

“Don’t go—” you sleepily murmured, coaxing him, seeking him even in the darkness of the room. He softly grinned, putting his shirt on.

“Maybe we’ll see each other tonight, angel.” he spread a few kisses along your temple.

“Well I don’t want a maybe!” you whined.

“I know—”

Morgan’s brows perked up in amusement.

“You have the same clothes as yesterday, and you never put the same clothes on twice a day.” He smirked.