#i always either sit on my feet or criss cross

[mushroom-through-the-stargate]

*puts my feet down on the ground while I'm sitting*

*my feet are now Touching Things*

*pulls my feet back up and decides Not To Do That Again*

[airbendertendou]

various faves nd ways they stim w you! ♥︎ [ including : levi from obey me, izana, kyotani, todoroki from hnl, nishinoya, sanzu, mammon from obey me and connor ]

stimming is normal. everyone stims. this is written w an autistic or neurodivergent person in mind HOWEVER anyone can read it. everyone stims. stimming is normal. everyone stims. stimming is normal. one more time!! do not use this as a way to diagnose yourself please. thank you.

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

i can see LEVI learning your fave kpop / jpop song to dance n sing w you. his cheeks are pink as he does the more hip-heavy movements, but he prefers the sound of girl group songs. its the most exercise he gets and it heightens his stamina, but he breathes really heavily w ease [if youre insecure abt your lack of stamina!!]. wait also matches the color scheme of the mv / dance practice you dance to ):

with IZANA, he sits criss-cross across from you on your bed. pretty eyes are narrowed a bit, but his mouth curls into his half-smile as you wiggle your fingers at him. he grabs your hand and begins pulling you back n forth so you’re rocking but he’s sitting still. it makes you laugh hysterically and he grins so so widely at the sound <3

now KYOTANI does puzzles or word searches with you!! his eyebrows furrow and his tongue pokes out in concentration. stays out of your way and lets you take the lead. if you do your puzzles in a specific way [i go by color <3] he will go to the opposite side of the table so hes still helping but isnt in your space. rubs his feet against yours when they brush

TODOROKI is your personal safe space! a little shelter of your own!! reads to himself when you skitter just into his sight, jus standing there. he doesnt even speak before he raises his arms, eyes still on his book. you dive in, swooping under whatever shirt or sweater he wears, your ear on the center of his chest so you can hear his heart. pats where he assumes your head is, and sometimes reads to you if youre disgruntled

annoys the team when NISHINOYA hears your vocal stims nd he immediately echoes them back to you. immediate responses of movie quotes, song lyrics, or whatever noise your brain is stuck on. [its funny but sometimes you get embrrassed abt the noises your brain decides to loop] but noya really tries his best to make sure youre not shy abt your stims nd lets you know youre happily welcomed!!

imagining SANZU stopping you from picking your skin [lips, cuticles, scabs, acne] by intwining your hands w his. [he also paints your nails matching colors bc nail polish has a gross taste <3] he always always ends up starting a squeezing competition w you, crushing your fingers together softly but never enough to actually hurt you. ends up giving your nose a lil kiss after ):

MAMMON gives you a full body shake lmao like grabbing your arms n shaking you until you giggle. nd he wont stop until youre laughing either!! stressed, sad, angry - he will wiggle you until youre laughing. nd he welcomes you to do the same! any time he looks /: hes silently begging you to shake him about until hes smiling again

thinking of CONNOR nd his led light swirling yellow as he blinks furiously, information flooding into his head. you always copy his blinks unconsciously, scrunching your nose as he finishes. nd he copies the scrunch you do before gently squeezing your nose between two knuckles

——♥︎——

this was v self indulgent but (: hope someone else's mood raises bc of it!!

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[marlynnofmany]

Always Bring A Flashlight

“This delivery,” I said, trying to hold my feet stable on the uneven ground, “Would have been a great use for the hovercycle.”

“Yes it would,” Blip agreed. She pushed the hoversled along with me, having just as much trouble with the criss-crossing tree roots that made up what passed for a road here. Her clothes for today were the type that fit closely and displayed muscle, leaving her natural frills as the only things waving in the breeze. Or maybe they were waving with frustration.

Normally she and Blop would have done a delivery together, but he’d sprained his shoulder trying one of Wio’s impossible puzzleboxes. He knew full well those were meant for people with tentacles instead of arms. Now he was recuperating on the ship, while we pushed a sled full of packages over some very treacherous footing. No, I wasn’t bitter about that.

“Have we tried hooking the bike up to a sled before?” I asked, stepping over a python-sized root and walking down one the size of a playground slide. “I know it would take some quick work on the brakes to keep it from crashing into anything, and you’d need somebody to ride along and steer, but it seems doable.”

Paint piped up from where she was riding on the front of the sled. “Oh, like when we did that one rush delivery with you running and pulling it!”

I chuckled, slipping just a little. “Yep, like when I was a sled dog. But with less of a risk of spraining an ankle.”

Blip said, “Pretty sure Captain Sunlight declared it too risky for regular deliveries. The hovercycle’s for small packages, not whole piles.”

Paint clambered over the stack to look down at us. Her orange scales were bright in this foresty dimness. “But it’s all tied down so well.”

I craned my neck up. “Are those rated for sitting on?”

“Hm. Probably not.” She climbed back to the front where the brakes were. She was a little small to be of any help in pushing, but she made a good lookout.

Like now. “Hey, what’s that?”

I peered around the side of the package stack, but didn’t see anything other than giant trees and a ground covered in roots. Plus the occasional white marker attached to the trunks so offworld courier crews didn’t get desperately lost. It was all very shadowy and green. “Where?”

“There’s misty-looking stuff in the distance,” Paint reported. “Steam? Fog? Poison gas?”

Blip groaned. “I hope not.”

I thought back to the briefing for this location. “There wasn’t anything hazardous in the report. No predators of note either.”

“Good,” Blip said as the mist grew thick enough to spot in the shadows. “That means probably nothing will jump out at us when the visibility’s egg-dark.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “Are we still going to be able to see the pathway?” The white marker sticks were kind of far apart. I didn’t like our odds if we missed one.

“So far,” Paint said from the front of the sled.

We pushed on. The fog thickened faster than I expected, and I found myself struggling to make out the root shapes before I needed to step on or over them. “Paint? Are we going the right way?”

“I think so?” she said, a faint distressed blur in the darkness. “I don’t suppose either of you brought a light?”

“No.” I sighed. “Just my communicator, which isn’t going to do us much good.”

“I’ve got one!” Blip said, tugging at a pocket that I hadn’t realized was there. “It’s the kind that doesn’t make your eyes adjust, too.” With a quiet click, suddenly everything was vivid red.

“Ow,” I said on reflex.

“Perfect!” Paint exclaimed, setting the brakes and climbing over the boxes again. Her scales were as red as the boxes, though Blip looked black like the roots underfoot. While they handed the light off, I checked my own hand out of curiosity: red too, though not as bright as Paint.

“Twist it to adjust the focus!” Blip called. We were in shadow again, now that the light was on the other side of the stack.

“Got it,” Paint said. She fiddled with it for a moment, then sent a beam of red lancing into the mist with much less scattering in all directions. “That way! A little more to the left!”

Blip and I resumed pushing. We had to rely on Paint completely, but it worked.

She sounded delighted. “We’ll be there in no time! Onward!”

It was then that I realized what all this reminded me of, and I nearly fell over laughing. They of course demanded to know what was so funny.

“Another legend from my planet,” I said, wiping away tears. “Paint, I got to be Balto last time. You get to be the hero today!”

And then I sang Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for my alien coworkers, and they were honored to be part of it.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[seeminglydark]

hi! is there are reason that you decided that cassette tapes would be john’s chosen form of physical media? how would john organize his music (i.e., genre, band name, release date) and what would john keep his cassettes in? i can imagine him either having stuff in old shoe boxes or a cassette case that he hand-painted himself!

Yes! It's my personal favorite form of media, I'm really partial to cassettes, i think from growing up in the early 90's when it was the norm, so imprinted on my brain. I love mix tapes, jumping up to smash the record button when my fave tune came on the radio, so id always miss the first 10 seconds haha, my first several cars had tape decks. i love Walkmans, it was such a HUGE thing in my life to be able to put headphones on and take my music with me for the first time. I translate a lot of that nostalgia to john. I always imagine him with his Walkman and headphones, or small portable stereo, in bed with all the lights off except the white christmas lights that criss cross his ceiling, Creaky on his chest, listening to the episodes on repeat.

John organizes his music by How Much he Currently Likes A Band, grouped by band name and then oddly enough by album color. (so if he had several cassettes by say, Social D, they'd be next to each other in rainbow or light to dark.) He does most things by color, he's slower at reading and alphabetizing is a bit of a chore and makes him feel self-conscious and stressed. He doesn't mix music and books on tape, they each have their own shelf. He does rearrange a LOT.

Right again re: shoe box and painting the cases! I actually wrote a little snippet of this a long long time ago that didn't make it into the comic, but you can have it now, under the cut.

'Caro eyes a shoe box on the shelf curiously, its covered in stickers, anti fascism and punk rock bands. 'Can i look at this?' they ask, he nods, his back to them. They pull it down and settle it in their lap, lifting off the top to discover... cassette tapes! Oh wait, John did say Maddie recorded their show for him onto cassettes. There were at least 40, all lined up in the order of episodes. Caro pulled one out, the white paper inside the case was filled in with bright colors and shapes, elaborate images of ghosts and snakes and monsters. They pulled out another. A cartoon portrait of the little blond, violet eyes wide at the barrage of brightly colored spirits hovering behind them. 'Is this me?' they ask out loud. John turns to look and freezes. 'Oh….' embarrassed. 'Uh yeah…' 'Wow the art is so…?' they murmur, pulling out another, this one done in greens and blues with metallics. 'Ive never seen anything like these before?' They saw a lot of fanart, but this was different somehow. It felt more personal. Like the person who made them really put their soul into it, like it wasn't just fanart to the artist, but something really deeply important. 'I…um….' Johns face is bright red now..' um…I mean, you know I dont have social media..' he reminds them softly, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Wait.' Caro looks up, he's so flustered now, shuffling his feet, ears on fire. 'These are YOURS? You did these?' Somehow they've forgotten he used to fill up notebooks with colorful drawings, street art and tagging. Liquid letters and cartoon animals with thick black outlines. 'Sure.' He shrugs and turns away, back to them again, 'I would draw on them while listening, you know. It just felt kinda sad to leave them blank. Maddie showed me some of the fanart online, and the box set of the first season. I can't do the same kind of art, I'm not good like those other people, but…I didn't want to leave them blank, so I made my own I guess.' he pauses. 'I'm sorry…you must think I'm so fucking weird.' 'I don't think its weird…' they murmur looking at the tapes. 'I think its really cool. I didn't know you were such a talented artist.' He laughs, a short bark that sounds like a cough. They put the box gently back on the shelf, and sit on the bed, deciding to spare him. They can see he's smiling though, even if he's trying to hide it with his fist pressed against his lips.'

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 13

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.5k

A/N: Long time coming! I've been so busy getting ready for uni, I recently transferred colleges so my life is a MESS rn. I hope you guys like this one, new chapter hopefully next week. Enjoy my lovies

You were going to be an aunt. That was very true, very insane, but very true. Your best friend, sister in law (to be), and childhood bully had a tiny little thing in her belly. A little friend in there, Tía Andrea.

You weren't having kids for a long time, you think, so this little blessing was going to be spoiled to a T.

 Juan, you named the baby, if he was a boy, Julia, if she was a girl. An affinity for J names you've noticed, god help you.

After sulking at the thought of Javier dropping you the second he sees Lorraine, you do see your brother and congratulate him. You cry, because he's going to be a dad, you want to tell him to be the dad you two never got to have, but that was far too heavy for a guy like Frankie. You leave him be, because you were quite the cry baby and that he hated about you.  

You groan in your bed, it had been 2 whole nights since Javi left you without a word. His face so full of nothing when he looked back at you for a chin raising nod as a goodbye.

You had the privilege of working at the summer school program from 9-2, the rest of your nights were alone. Spreading jam on toast, sitting criss-crossed dipping your finger in the purple goop and finger feeding your teething sister, who almost always gripped your finger and gnaw. It sort of hurt but tickled, the feeling of no teeth, hungry teething angry baby. Those were your moments of laughter. 

You ranted to poor Marisol often, “Do you think Lorraine and Javi will just rekindle that flame? I'm so stressed Sol,” she had a permanent grin on her face so you felt like she never took your problems seriously. She was 11 months old, still you felt judged. 

“I didn't want it to end”

Pause, a fucking pause. 

“I didn't want it to end that way either. “

Your chest expanded and tightened at the thought. And you did what you have always done best.

Overthink it.

What if it was Houston that tore them, too grown too soon. What if them both standing in a wedding in their hometown, a town where they fell in love in, what if that becomes just too much for them and they realize that they can try the damn thing again. You narrow your eyes at your sister as she slobbers on her fist. Lorraine has always been prettier than you. You couldn't see why Javi wouldn't just crumble at her feet when she comes home.

And she's a Christian, like a good one.

You recall in your sophomore year being teased by a junior named Terrance. He had heard about the rumor (the half true rumor), that Javier hooked up with his best friends sister atop a car. Close, you thought.

Hook up though? Depended on your definition, and it was against the car, not on top. Anyway, he crowded you at your lunch table while your friends stood to get their meals. He claimed you made it up for attention, why would anyone cheat on Lorraine with you? You held it together, brows pulling tight and leaving without a word. Finding the bathroom and breaking down, an experience unique to teenage girls. 

Biting back sobs in a bathroom stall. 

You stare at your baby sister longer, “Don't ever let a boy talk you down, okay mama?” She babbles and you take an aggressive bite of your toast. Face screwing up realizing you never really liked this snack. And don't let a boy shut you out after he's been intimate with you. You shake your head no, I’ll tell you that one when you're older. 

Like a light bulb hovering over your head, you grab your sister and walk out your room. Storming into the living room where your mother and her husband cuddled while watching some movie. The baby babbled at the sight of her daddy, “Going to bed.” You lie and plop your sister in their laps and hurry up the stairs before your mother could question you. 

You lock your bedroom door and shed your clothes with thoughts of Javier and his stupid sexy mustache and smile. How pleased he seemed to be getting you off, bastard. You stare at the mirror while you're bare, the hickeys on your soft skin mellowing in the slightest. And despite wanting to go over to Javier's just to talk, you slip on pretty panties. Just in case. 

You dig for something less appealing to stick on your body. If you don't tempt he wont have to see what's waiting for him under it all.

Jackpot.

Frankies track pants from high school, Laredo’s awful navy and black colors. Haven't they heard, navy and black is fashion suicide. You slip the loud material on, and then a gray tank top. You don't even bother with sneakers, slippers will do. 

You don't even call, you exit through your window and hop off the small shed Mr. Warden recently built for his storage. Passing your own car and walking to Javier's house at 11 pm. 

You're huffing 2 minutes in, despite Texas being famously flat, you still had the beastly hill to get to the two paths that led to Javier's home. The short cut that involved walking 3 minutes in the woods and ending at his house in less than ten, or the main road with long haul truckers and an additional 15 minutes to the walk. 

“God, please don't let me get mauled by a wolf.” You mutter to yourself before making a left into the barely lit trail, one warm light at the beginning and one off in the distance at the end. 

Well you don't die. You do get bit by some sort of bug on your elbow and startled by a squirrel. You just repeat to yourself that this is a good idea, the two of you need to communicate.

You end up at the Peña ranch, completely dark. You start to realize how silly it was for you to show up unannounced in the dead of night but the light from Javier's room has your stomach doing a strange flip. His window closed but the view of him sat at his desk was clear. 

Javier heard your call and didn't even startle. He was confused for a moment, looking at his door to his room but ultimately he threw that idea away, you strolling in his house near midnight, no way.

Hearing a crunching of leaves and a shriek, Javier is at his feet and opening his window, his eyes meeting your flushed cheeks and a leaf in your hair. 

Javier desperately tries to bite back a laugh at the sight, shirt strap off your shoulders, in track pants and slippers. Eyes wide in embarrassment, he’s just glad you aren’t hurt from whatever caused a piece of greenery to be stuck in your hair, a hand swiping to whack the thing away. Your hair disheveled from the midnight breeze, you were so damn beautiful. Always. 

“Will you stop staring and let me in before your dad comes out here with a shotgun?” 

Javier blinks, realizing he had just been ogling you for a bit too long, “Right, sorry.” 

He grips your hands and lifts you in. You huff with the sketchy landing, effectively kicking your slippers off and dusting off those loud pants, your cheeks are still red, maybe it’s from the fall or the weather or something else. You sit on his bed, wiping your brow free of sweat. “This thing makes me sound like a fucking wind tunnel.” You tug at the oversized pants. 

A strange primal heat spread across Javier’s chest seeing you wear pants that obviously weren’t yours but instead some boys.

The heat died when he realized they’re just your brothers. He remembers Frankie wearing them back in high school. 

“Wait-how did you get here?” A worry flashing him, you bring your knees to your chest on his bed. He stood against his desk, his arms crossed, leaned forward a bit to be face level with your own. He was just a huge broad man, you had to pounce on him.

About that, you think. 

“Walked, what were you reading?” You deflect, Javier shakes his head knowing what you're trying to do, he’s known you for a decade. He knows your often poor decision making skills and inability to lie, so he presses again, ignoring your question.

“I would have picked you up if you called.”

He would have, in a heartbeat. He’d drop anything and you knew that. Through all your insecurity and self depreciation you always understood that. That pissed you off, no wonder you had fallen so hard. He was always there, fixing up whatever mess you made.

He never did really mind, but you going M.I.A on him and then putting yourself in harm's way just to see him. That pissed him off pretty bad. Then again he could also never really be angry with you, not when you're finally here with him after so many years of no contact wondering if you were okay, happy, fed, healthy or whatever he killed himself over worrying about you. 

You, and your fucking tiny tank top and big eyes like you've never done wrong in your life. To him you hadn't and if you did, those eyes tell him otherwise. You just shrug with a pretty pout and a pulled brow. That stupid thought of pressing his thumbs to your forehead smoothing out any worry you’ve ever had. “I wanted to go on a walk and ended up here.” Lie.

“It just isn’t safe.” Javi’s crossed arms flex when you narrow your eyes in annoyance.

“Believe it or not Agente, I used to take walks by myself back when you lived with Lorraine 5 months ago.” You bite and ah, thats why you’re here.

He saw the look on your face change when he spewed that awkward phrasing to Genie’s news.

Truthfully Javier didn’t mean for it to come out like that. He gripped the wheel to his truck when he dropped Genie off at her house. His pounding head leaning against the wheel, feeling so dumb. Ashamed. 

He didn’t call you because he didn’t know how.  Didn’t know if your mom would pick up or if you were actually upset with him. Maybe you felt different after he ate you out, after he bent you over and came on your back. Maybe he was a fucking idiot and moving too fast. 

But the name drop gave him confirmation. Javier dropped his eyes to the floor and let out a sigh. “Yeah, about Monday…” His eyes stay trained to the ground, bracing himself for your attitude that he strangely adored. For you to rip him a new one for making you feel bad, for making you feel unsure in whatever this was. Waiting for a justified fuck off, or a firm talk like you gave him when he saw you again for the first time last week. 

But instead he hears you sniffle. 

Well fuck, you were crying and Javier looked like you had just stabbed him. Striding to you to get on his knees and hold your knees as you sat perched up on his bed crying over something so stupid. But the whole situation gave you deja vu.

A flash of trying to look pretty for him after the two of you kissed and fading at the hollow pit in your belly when you saw him arm in arm with Lorraine just two days after. 

Communicate, it’s what you told yourself to do on your way to his house. You lost too many years by being too damn shy to tell him how you felt. 

But now that the moment was here you couldn’t help but sob. But to feel like the insecure girl trying to compete with someone in a different ball park. But this time around Javi is repeating your name and attempting to soothe you, his hands moving from your knees to your wrists. Andrea, he presses so tenderly and so concerned. 

Andrea, querida, what’s wrong, hey. 

And all other soft calls to you. “I-I’m sorry- I don’t know why i’m crying, sometimes when I’m around you—i still feel like i’m sixteen and—" He drops his head, his hands loosening at the thought of all the mistakes he made with you. Your own hands flex and move from the hold completely as he’s at your mercy, head bowed. “I understand if Lorraine coming home changes things—you two were together for a long time and I know she’s probably less complicated or-or emotional—and not someone you need to hide— I know she’s easier to have and keep. I won’t be upset, I know in comparison i’m i don’t know, homely? And never really made for a good-“

“Andrea.” His voice strained but demanding you to stop your tearful rambling. It wasn’t like you to act that way, not anymore. You’ve grown too much to let all your insecurities wash you out, but it seems that maybe you never got over 1980, maybe you couldn’t just have casual sex with Javier Peña. 

“What?” Your voice breaks, god. And there’s Javier with that same look of disappointment, in you, in himself or in your doomed situation, you weren’t sure but he looks absolutely torn in half. 

His wet lips part like he was prepared to say something but they shut as his eyes search yours.

There’s silence again and his eyes drop and you begin to fear that maybe he agreed with all that you said. Maybe he knew that when his ex came home he’d be ready to fix that, maybe he knew Lorraine was a simpler, prettier girl. So your heart breaks further every second that passes. Every second he doesn’t look at you. 

 “Be with me.” 

Your mouth parts at the softness in his voice, and what was left of your heart swelling in your chest. Tears fell harder in confusion and praying this wasn’t just another spec of false hope, hoping it wasn’t another kiss by his car or another if you tell me to stay. 

You whisper, “What?”

His own eyes, glossy. “I don’t want anyone else, I don’t want you with anyone else. Nothing will change that. I don’t care if this is difficult, I don’t care if you think you’re hard to be with. I’m just asking you to be with me Andrea.”

You frown and shut your eyes tightly. You want him to repeat it again, over and over until you two wither away together.

Maybe he also knew that you two could never just be casual. 

Javier and Andrea casually hooking up, who were you kidding?

“Okay-"

He doesn’t let you finish whatever came next, you don’t even know what else you were going to say because his lips were crushing your own. His hand holding the back of your head as he presses you close. Tying your souls in his own way, kissing and holding you. 

Finally. Oh my god…

You arch your back into him, he groans against you when he realizes his uncomfortable position. His body hunched over in order to make out with you while you sat on the edge of his bed. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbles before grabbing your ass and lifting you up. Your legs wrap against him, holding to him like a koala. His hands generously squeezing at your behind in the track pants. Your nails raking in his pretty brown hair, his mustache scraping your lips raw and you love it. 

Laying you on his bed and kissing you there would be easy, but Javier obviously could care less about easy, I mean he just asked his best friends sister to be his for good. So he held you up, licking into your mouth with your legs wrapped around his stomach. Moaning when your core rubbed against his stomach. 

“Am I too heavy?”

Javi scoffed against your lips, “shut the fuck up.”

He takes a few steps back and bumps into his desk. The image of you bent over it, taking him makes his pants tighten. He turns to sit you on it, shoving the mail from work on the floor, the thing you had been so interested in just 10 minutes ago. 

He steps back slightly, your hands still attached to him with your swollen lips and desperation for more. You looking so pretty perched up on his desk. He had to have you every day, what was he going to do when he leaves, what was he going to do?

No time for that, he grabs your face again and continues kissing you, making up for all those years you spent wanting him. All the years he spent hiding how bad he wanted you. 

Without warning Javier hooks his left hand in the front of your thin top and pulls it down. Your breasts spilling out, and he looks like he’s ready to devour you. His mouth immediately attaching to your left breast eliciting a high pitched moan from you. His wet lips suctioning on such a sensitive and untouched part of your body. His right hand moving to your unattended one. Kneading and gripping while his tongue flicked and swirled. 

Your hair falls in your face as your heavy head falls at the pleasure. Still so wet, you move your hips to hopefully get some release, “Javi, please-“

His lips part from your breast, his mouth wet and open as he looks up to you, waiting for your request. But you’re so turned on by the circumstance, by him asking you to be his, by the way his hair is falling above his brow and by your breasts spilling out of your tank top “What do you need baby?”

“I want to come.” 

His lips quirk at your bluntness. He wastes no time and begins pulling off your pants—or your brother pants. Your chest heaves when he stands straight to remove you from the desk and you get a glimpse of his hardness. Heavy in the oh so causal sleep pants that made your head spin

“I want you to come.” You add, he pauses his brows raising a bit. “We don’t have to take off our clothes, i’m not ready yet but we can-“ You cut yourself off feeling awfully shy and juvenile for the suggestion but his eyes darken at your bashfulness. You were ready to fuck him on Monday when you were clouded by horniness and the uncertainty of if it was your last time but now he wants to you to be his. You never need to rush. 

He tilts his head slightly and grabs the bottom of your tank, freeing you from it. Leaving you bare breast and in your small little underwear, placed on his desk. His pretty girl, his, finally his. 

“What baby? You wanna dry hump me? Like a couple of fucking teenagers?”

Your cheeks heat quickly, embarrassed about your stupid horny ask, feeling frozen in shame until Javi smiles again. Picking you up for what feels like a millionth time and sitting you in his lap at his desk chair. Straddling him, you feel the weight of him, so close to him.

You love kissing him, you never want to stop and you don’t, your lips working on his. Dragging to his cheek leaving wet kisses from jaw to neck. The perfect position to hear his own pretty breaths. 

In between pants he gets a hold on your waist lifting you slightly. He gives himself space to move his erection, move it to help you feel him better. Lowering you, your lips suck and nip at his neck leaving a careless mark. A whine leaves your parted lips at the contact and his lips quirk in a sweet smile. 

But the smile fades into an eyebrow screwing groan when you move on him. He repeats your name in worship. His forehead dropping to your shoulder while you use his body. So little clothing for you and so much for him. Yet he’s mumbling in your ear like he’s already on the verge of finishing.

Feeling the underside of him rub against the thin cotton throws you for a loop and you can’t seem to care how feral you have to look getting yourself off on Javi like this. His head turns to place his lips on the space below your ear.

“Don’t leave, let me keep you here forever.” He urges and your core is pulsing just from his words. “When you let me fuck you—fuck—i’ll make sure you’ll never need anyone else querida.” 

“Oh god-“ You moan, your head dropping feeling closer, his own hips bucking up to meet you. The spaced out thrusts causing you to release a high pitched squeak. 

Javier’s hand moving to the back of your head, forcing it to his neck to keep you muffled. 

“Hijo?”

Your eyes widen and you squeeze Javi tighter. You stay frozen at the sound of Don Chucho calling outside of Javier’s room. 

Javi doesn't let up, you hold a muffled whine in his neck as he continues to buck his hips into you. “Si papi-uh dad yeah?”

“Todo bien?”

Javier, still moving below you, slips his hand between you, his fingers dragging along your clothed cunt, helping speed up your process. You're so close but if you come now, there's no doubt his father will hear. 

“I’m good, uh-working on some DEA stuff.” 

You would laugh if the pad of his thumb wasn't circling your most sensitive part of your body. 

“Alright hijo, try to sleep we have to be at Mrs. Glorias home tomorrow at 12. You're coming right?”

“Uh-yeah-I’m coming” His eyes grow large and he finally stills from under you, “I mean–yes I am coming…tomorrow.”

You stifle a laugh in his shoulder and he pinches your ass.

“Um, alright, goodnight.” His dad calls, the sound of footsteps and a door slamming ends that.

And you laugh into him forreal, but his fingers returning to your panties shut you up. “You're coming Javi?” you tease.

“Shut up-” He bucks harder and you’re close, your eyes going blank. 

You move your lips to his neck again, “Papi huh?”

And then he breaks, “Fuck-Andrea”. Coming in his pants in deep grunts and grips at your ass. Coming down from his own high he gets frustrated, his fingers dipping into your panties without warning. His deft fingers collect all the moisture he created and drag to your clit.

You come in a white flash, falling off the edge. You repeat his name in whiny cries. His hands hurrying to hold you up against his while you collapse into him. Heart racing, the orgasm comes in rippling. Javier holds you, sweat and all. Kissing the top of your head, whispering sweet words of You’re so good, feel so good baby. He keeps you like this for what feels like an eternity, feeling boneless and light when he stands.

He lays you on his bed like a doll. You lay still coming down, chest rising and falling. Still pulsing at the thought of how dirty and depraved the whole thing was. So wrapped in the high and replaying all the shit you’ve always wanted to hear, you flinch when he climbs in bed with a new pair of pants. 

“You’re bad.” He groans when he settles into the bed with a creak. 

You screw your brows together and turn to him, “Yea says the guy still trying to jump my bones while his dad was outside the room you psycho!” You whisper yell and he laughs that same deep sweet laugh you love. 

Javi brings you in closer to him, kissing you a quick chaste one. Blushing at the simpleness of it all. Cuddling in bed with Javier Peña and kissing him for fun, what is my life? “Mmm, take off your panties.”

You scoff.

“Not like that–I’m tapped out, unless you want to.”

“As much as I would love to have you between my legs, I am also tired.” You reach down and slip the soaked thing off, leaning over placing them on his nightstand. He pulls up the comforter over you. 

Javier slips his arm over your stomach, thumbing your hip in light circles. “You can put them in my drawer, they're mine now.” 

“You're a pervert.” You laugh, pinching his wrist.

“Mmm, when it comes to you? Yeah a bit.”

Red as a cherry you bury your face in his chest, hiding yourself. 

Silence passes for a few minutes, just the two of you together. The reality sets in, the hiding begins. But so does being with him, so does working this out so does communicating. “I should probably leave, don't want your dad to catch me.” You whisper and he grumbles an annoyed sound from his chest.

“Dont care, stay here. I’ll sneak you out early in the morning.” He grips you tighter and you smile feeling satisfied. “Tell me about Miami.”

You frown, “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Tell me about your roommates, classes. I never got to go to college, tell me.”

Kissing his chest again, “You say it like you’re some dropout, you’re like a secret fucking agent.” He groans again, hatong when you talk him up, he gets shy like you. You spare him. “My roommate is cool, party girl. Her name is Delilah, from Arkansas. She was like a real southern-belle, big curly hair and blue eyes. She’s been begging for me to visit since I graduated early. We got along really well but she was annoyed with me often. I never partied.”

Javier’s chest rises, “Why? You used to party a lot in high school, remember when I had to get you from Juniors house at like 2-”

“Oh god don’t remind me I was a mess, case and point. Didn’t have a hot strong brother's best friend to pick up said pieces.”

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

The two of you laugh into each other, it's simple and perfect. 

“Besides that, it was an unfulfilling experience but I teach in the fall so it worked out I guess.”

“Ms. Diaz, sexiest teacher to ever step foot in Laredo for sure. If you were my teacher, whew.”

“You need to relax.” You mumble, feeling sleepier in his arms. “What were you reading by the way?”

Javier stirs and lets out another annoyed groan, gripping you tighter. “Some stupid fucking retreat for my office. In New Orleans in June, it's for all the people who are going to Columbia in fall. Stupid shit but its all expenses paid at the Roosevelt.”

Your brows raise, “Fancy, you gonna be flirting up the staff. Chest hair out with Getting your game back on before Columbia.” He scoffs and brings his hand down hard on your behind, eliciting a screech from you. “You’re gonna leave a mark pendejo.”

“Well you have a smart mouth, would rather see you half naked by the pool. I’ll sock anyone who looks at you though,” You shove him, the out of reach thought, fantasy, of maybe going away with him flashes in your eyes. Before you could dwell, he reached down to kiss you again. He mumbles against your lips. “You gave me a hickey so we’re even.”

Your eyes flutter shut, dosing off in the warmth of Javi. In the warmth of someone who’s yours. 

Half asleep you mumble, “Why’d you come the second I said the word papi?”

He scoffs tiredly and kisses your head again.

 “Shut up.”

[adidastain]

the truth

90s matt stone x gn reader (y/n)

warnings: panic attack (ish), mention of sexual assault (M victim), mention of insomnia, angst (ish), exes

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.)

word count: 3319

—

I always thought it was ironic how advertisements for prescription drugs and over-the-counter ailments had a long list of disclaimers and warnings for side-effects that may leave you worse than how you started before being on the medication. If I were using an antidepressant that gave me chronic stomach issues and put me at a risk for skin cancer, I think I would rather just be depressed. 

And I was. It was almost 2AM, and I was laying awake on my sofa, letting my brain rot as I watched a commercial for a migraine medication that could possibly give the patient aches and pains everywhere else in their body. What sucked is that I had to be awake in four hours, and I didn’t really see myself falling asleep any time soon anyway. 

Knock.

Knock.

Knock-knock. 

I could have pissed myself. There wasn’t a question of who was at my door at 2 in the morning; I knew who it was. That was the problem. The question was why is he here? After six months?

With some trouble, I managed to move my body enough to stand and stretch slightly. My arms and legs had been paralyzed in one position for the last two hours. It seemed that my body was asleep, but my mind wasn’t. I tripped on my throw rug on the way to the door. 

Matt was standing on the other side of the door, from what I could see through my peephole. I felt relieved at the fact that it was him and not someone else who happened to know our secret knock and had a plot to kidnap me. It didn’t look like he had much on him, being in just a T-shirt and some flannel pants. 

His eyes bored holes into me as I opened the door. The poor guy looked like a sad puppy. It only made me more confused. 

“Hey,” I greeted him, letting my eyes shoot up and down his frame. I made myself seem purposefully more tired than I really was. I didn’t want him to know that I hadn’t been sleeping. Not that I care. 

“Hey,” He exhaled. Matt’s jaw clenched as he held his breath again, looking down at his feet and then again into my eyes, pleading for something. For what? Forgiveness? Does he think I’m mad at him? 

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, leaning against my door frame. I figured he’d be less tense if he saw that I really didn’t mind him being here. Yes, I was confused, but I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t exactly thrilled either, but I’m sure he was more so expecting the former. 

I didn’t look away from his eyes. Matt was always unnecessarily difficult to read and always veered away from communicating, unless he was lying (which he was terrible at) or in a panic-state of distress, like he was now. The way he kept breaking eye contact and holding his breath was a dead giveaway. It wasn’t often that I or anyone had seen him like this. 

“Um…” he mumbled, swallowing. “Could I crash?” 

He reached behind his head to tug on a chunk of his curly hair. It had gotten really long since I last saw him. He looked sort of boyish with it. 

I stared at him, though I doubt he could read the expression I was trying to give him. This was not something I ever thought he would ask me. Especially since it had been, what, six months since we last spoke? Seven since we broke up?

I sighed, looking at the floor. “Sure,” I hummed, opening the door for him to step inside. He said nothing as I locked the door, just standing in my living room like the place was full of boobytraps or something. 

We looked at each other and that seemingly made him feel comfortable enough to sit down on my couch. I poured him a glass of water and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, pulling my legs up to sit criss-cross. I watched his hands rub his knees back and forth as his leg bounced rapidly. 

“What’s going on, Matt?” I asked him. I felt sort of… guilty. Maybe I’d come off more harsh than I anticipated. “It’s been a while.”

“Um,” Matt started, swallowing harshly. His leg stopped moving as he leaned forward, rubbing his face with his hands under his glasses. 

New glasses. I couldn’t remember ever seeing this pair on him before. They were silver, just like his old ones, but a little smaller and more wide as opposed to the circular shape of the frames I remembered. His old pair had been broken since college, so I guess it was about time he got some new ones. 

“I-I think I just got… sexually assaulted,” he mumbled. His back sank as he heavily exhaled, removing his hands from his face and adjusting his glasses. 

I almost choked on air. “What? Where? A-At home?” I asked. My legs fell off the side of the couch and I shifted closer to him. 

“Mhm,” he nodded. “This girl from Boulder’s been staying with us, a-and-”

“You don’t have to tell me about it, Matt,” I said, laughing nervously. I swallowed, staring at his hands and arms. I wasn’t sure whether I should just reach over and touch him for comfort or not. 

“Okay,” he huffed, laughing as well to channel his obviously heightened breathing. “This was the only place I could think to go at this hour.” 

“Shh, it’s fine. I promise. I understand,” I told him, lightly rubbing his shoulder. Matt cleared his throat and sat up normally, looking down at his lap. I could see him picking at his fingernails, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as he tried to take deep breaths. 

“New glasses?” I asked, hoping that talking about something else would make him feel less on-edge. I wasn’t sure how I could tell him that he was safe with me without actually saying it. I just hoped he still felt safe despite going without talking for so long. 

“Yeah,” he answered, taking them off. “We made some profit from, um, selling the VHSs and whatnot, so I got a new pair. Do you… wanna see?” 

Matt held the glasses towards me. He still seemed awkward and hesitant, but I couldn’t blame him. How else are you supposed to act when you show up to your ex’s door unannounced at 2 o’clock in the morning? 

I took the glasses from him, examining them. They looked pretty much identical to his old ones, except for the frames. They were oval-shaped. I looked through the lenses, seeing the world the exact same way I did when I used to steal his glasses and put them on my face so long ago. Now I just felt sad. 

“I saw the trailer you made in one of my old recordings of Mr. Show, during the commercials and stuff,” I said, giving the glasses back to him. I remembered just putting them back on his face for him. Stop. 

Matt smiled and looked down, cleaning the glasses before putting them back on. He sniffled, glancing towards my TV and then back at the glass of water on the coffee table. 

It grew silent between us. I stared at the floor, trying to push away the memories of him and I, but not having any luck. I just thought about the times when we would stay up to watch SNL reruns and eat our dinner off of paper plates in the living room. Before things got complicated. 

While Matt’s eyes lingered on the TV screen a few feet away, I stared at his hair. He still had that gorgeous auburn shade of brown curls that were a little bit lighter than others in some spots. I watched his hands slide up his arms into the opposite sleeves, holding himself with tense shoulders. I recalled noticing him do this when he was anxious, though he never outwardly expressed it. He was usually pretty good at hiding it. I guess that came from the little bit of experience he had in acting. 

“Hey, Matt?” I said, sitting criss-cross again. I felt like there was a thick layer of tension in the air that made it hard for either of us to say whatever was on our mind or even communicate without words. 

He looked at me calmly, his hands falling into his lap again. One of them reached up to scratch his jaw as he waited for me to continue.

“Do you… wanna lay on my chest?” I asked quietly and cautiously. I knew it was a far reach since the last time we ever touched each other was almost nine months ago, but it felt right for me to ask. After all, it was a one-time thing. I could do him this one favor to help him relax and we’d never have to talk about it again. “To help you just… I dunno, relax.”

“...Can I?” he asked after a moment. I nodded, standing up to run to my bathroom and dig in the medicine cabinet for a small bottle of hair oil that I was praying I still had. Just in case. 

I found it, Thank God, and came back into the living room, jogging slightly. My body fell backwards onto the couch and I laid down, slightly propped up by a number of pillows with my arms wide open for Matt to lay down. 

It had been a long time since my heart was beating as fast as it was when Matt carefully crawled on top of me, avoiding making eye contact with me. He slowly lowered his head, still tentatively propping himself up so as to not sink his full weight into me and relax. 

“You can relax, Matt,” I whispered, stroking his neck softly. He said nothing, inhaling and exhaling until I felt his body pressed against mine. I’d forgotten just how big he was as a whole human person. He had a big head and big hands and broad shoulders and was just so tall. One of his legs was hanging off the edge of my sofa while the other one extended past the armrest. His arms were tucked at his sides, keeping him from falling off the couch. 

I felt his heart beating against my abdomen. It was racing, as told by the pace at which his back rose and fell with each breath. He could probably feel my heart racing too. It was almost like we were back where we were a year ago, stuck in the honeymoon phase. I didn’t believe anyone when they told me that it wasn’t going to last forever. 

I cringed, pushing the thought away. We tried it, and it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t work out. End of story. 

“Do you want me to put some of this in your hair?” I asked quietly, presenting the small bottle to him. Matt tilted his head up and squinted, before answering “Yes, please” without any hesitation. He took his glasses off and set them on the coffee table, before turning his head away from the rest of the room and towards the back of the couch. 

The oil was cold and had a very strong minty scent that smacked me in the face and sent me back to last year. It was the same oil that I used on his hair a number of times, whenever he was stressed or tired and needed a little help getting relaxed. I can’t believe I kept it.

I rubbed my hands together, working my fingers through the roots of his curly hair on the back of his head. Matt shivered, sighing through his nose as I scratched his scalp. I could feel the tension in his body trickle away as his weight settled on top of me. 

My hands kept massaging his scalp and hair, having to reapply more oil every so often since his hair was so long and there was so much of it. My eyes remained fixed on the TV screen while my hands worked, my mind running elsewhere. 

I tried to pretend that this was just another Thursday night for me, but I couldn’t. I just kept remembering stuff from when Matt and I were together. Nights where we’d fall asleep in each other’s arms after a movie marathon. Mornings that followed where we’d both wake up flustered and act like it was no big deal. 

But then there were the countless nights where he’d come home at 1 in the morning and just climb into bed without saying a word. No ‘good night,’ no kiss, no nothing. He’d be gone early the next morning before I’d even wake up enough to say anything to him. Sometimes he left little notes, sometimes he’d stop by in the middle of the day to have lunch. But eventually that all stopped and it felt like I never saw him again. 

I knew he was busy with the film they were shooting at the time, and I was busy with my own work. I told him that, and he knew. What made me upset was the fact that I knew he was more stressed than normal and he wouldn’t tell me why. 

Eventually he had to leave to go out East to film something in Utah. He was gone for almost two months by the time I drove over with one of our mutual friends so that I could see him, and we both sort of agreed to just go our separate ways. We talked again once he came back, but we still just agreed that we were better off on our own. 

My hands had worked their way up to the top of Matt’s head when I realized that he’d fallen asleep. He did feel safe with me after all. Safe enough to fall asleep on me, even after all this time. Maybe he just never really let go.

Frankly, I don’t think I did either. 

And now we’re here. 

However, I wasn’t going to let him sleep the rest of the night on me. Plus, I couldn’t stay awake any longer or else I wouldn’t survive the next day. I continued massaging his scalp and playing with his hair until the last of the oil had been completely worked through. 

“All done,” I said softly, lightly rubbing his back to gently wake him up. Matt breathed in and lifted his head up, looking at me in a confused daze. I gave him a shy smile as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and climbing off of me. 

My hands, my clothes, and my couch all just smelled like the oil and it was going to forever linger in my apartment from now on. It was all Matt’s fault.

It’s not his fault. He was violated and had nowhere else to go. Now I was in shambles, trying to figure out if he was going to be here again tomorrow night and whether or not I would let him stay. 

“Thank you,” Matt yawned, putting his glasses back on. He grabbed a blanket from the bin next to my couch and set it to the side, before standing up to stretch. His arms raised, pulling the hem of his gray T-shirt up with them and revealing his hip bones and happy trail, as well as the waistband of the boxers that hugged his hips snugly underneath his baggy pants. 

Fuck. 

“Of course,” I said. “Bathroom’s down the hall, and… I’ll just be in my bedroom if you need anything, okay?” 

Matt nodded, smiling slightly. He looked sort of sad and awkward. Granted, he’d looked like that all night. I wanted so badly to just wrap my arms around him one more time and breathe him in. I still missed him. Maybe the circumstances had influenced me, or my insomnia was making me go crazy, but I missed him. 

I turned around, sighing as I took a step into the hallway. If I looked at him again I would probably cry, but something was pulling me back into the living room. It slowed my steps down to a weak trudge and made me feel cold. It was so warm being underneath him and now it was gone. 

I stopped, turning back around again and seeing Matt fix himself up on the couch. “Do you want a hug?” I asked him, acting like I didn’t want one for myself. He turned around, seeming slightly shocked, but nodding and opening up his arms. 

My face was immediately smooshed into his chest as he leaned over slightly to hug me, his arms around my shoulders while mine were around his torso. His small waist fit right in my arms the same way it always did. His heart beat against my ear the same way it always did. 

One of his hands reached up slightly to pet my head, smoothing my hair down with each stroke. I wanted to cry. I started to wish that I would have just sucked it up and waited for filming to be done so that he could still be with me and vice versa. All the hurt and pain would have gone away eventually if I’d just been patient. 

After about 3 seconds, I think Matt realized that this was not just a typical hug. This was a “I’m in so much pain and I miss you” hug, without so much intimacy. Matt hugged me tighter, pressing the side of his neck against mine while my face was buried in his shoulder. 

No words were said; no words needed to be said. We just held onto each other, almost like we were showing each other physically how tightly we’d both been holding on for the past seven months, whether we knew it or not. 

Eventually, we pulled away. Matt’s hands slid down my arms and lightly squeezed my hands before falling to rest at his sides once more. I sniffled and looked down, taking a deep breath. 

“If that girl gives you problems again just call me,” I squeaked, putting on the most serious face I possibly could. Matt grinned, looking down at his hands as he picked his fingernails. “I will literally kill her.”

“Alright,” he laughed, looking in my eyes. My sleep-deprived brain may have been deceiving me, but I thought for sure that I could see his cheeks turn a little bit pink. 

I flashed him a grin before sighing, trying to put my serious face on again and act irritated that he was still here. “Good night, Matt,” I said, pursing my lips together so as to not show the grin that threatened to cover my face. 

He smiled wide, showing off that little gap in his teeth that I adored so much. “Good night, Y/N,” he answered, laughing slightly. He sat back down on the couch, pulling the covers up to his shoulders and shutting the TV off. I turned the kitchen light off and disappeared into the hallway, looking back at him one last time for the night. 

I still very much had feelings for him, I couldn’t argue about that at all. Despite the truth, which was that we did not work out, I felt deep down in my heart that maybe we could make it work again. The first time was just the wrong time. But I still loved him, and from what I gathered, there was a slight chance that he may have still loved me. Maybe if we both took the time to work with each other better we could make it work. 

Or not. Maybe I was just crazy and desperate. That was the most likely situation. That is the truth that didn’t keep me awake at night.

[minecraftbookshelf]

Yoinked

An in-universe idea for what Ren is doing instead of Limited Life

On AO3

-

Falling hurts.

Landing hurts more.

Ow

"It worked!"

Ren spits out a mouthful of dirt and rolls over onto his back. He really should be on his feet now, scanning for danger, but he's winded and wobbly and his vision is swirling with purple particles.

He thinks he might throw up actually.

"Ren?"

He really doesn't want to throw up. Throwing up sucks.

"Ren, can you hear me?"

He manages a wheeze in response to the vaguely familiar voice.

"Are we sure it worked right? I don't think he's supposed to be that color."

"That's probably just a side effect, Lizzie."

"Oh, yeah. That would make sense."

Ren gasps in a breath. And another. It's easier now, though he still feels like if he moves at all his stomach will come up out his throat, dragging all his entrails along with it. His vision is less blurry now, he can see the...ceiling?

It's the ceiling of a house. Out of the corner of his eye he can see bright curtains hanging on a day-lit window. It seems oddly incongrous, given the violent tingle of magic shivering through every atom of his body. Does whoever this is have no sense of appropriate theatrics? Whatever this is should be happening in a basement at least.

It's a lot of magic actually. Now that he's thinking about it, he can't really feel his fingers. Or his hands. Or like, his body.

His vison is suddenly obscured by pink. A lot of pink.

Pink hair, specifically, and a very familiar face.

"Hello, Shadow Knight!"

"Shadow Lady," Ren manages to gasp back out and she grins at him. All sharp teeth and carefully controlled anger.

She smells different, then she had on the Game Server, Ren notices. She had smelled like the forest there, gradually becoming part of it as the games progressed. (That happens sometimes. The Game Servers decide to shape them for its own purposes. The way your body began to disintegrate on your red life in the first one. The way Ren went through several full moons with no more than a distant ache in his bones.) Here she smells...not quite human. A step to the left in a way that raises the hair on his arms. Ozone and ash and saltwater and blood.

"Give him room to breathe, Lizzie. We did just yank him through the Void with no warning."

Ren decides not to think about that right now and just focus on breathing and convincing his internal organs to stay put.

Eventually he is able to sit up and look around.

He's in what looks like the sitting room of a perfectly normal house (if it werent for the ripped up carpet and the sigils scorched into the floorboards.)

The curtains are pale blue and the carpet (or what remains of it) is black and white and there are photos hung on the wall, tournament trophies above the fire place.

LDShadowLady sits criss cross on the floor across from him, staring at him intently. Behind her is another familiar face and Mumbo waves almost sheepishly from his awkward perch on what looks like it was once a pristine sofa but at some point it had caught fire and the side nearer Ren is little more than a singed frame and piles of soggy ash.

The photo on the wall directly behind ShadowLady is of her in a wedding dress, spinning hand in hand with SmallishBeans in a suit, Solidarity in the background making a face at the camera.

"Welcome back," She sounds appropriately ominous at least. Always a pleasure to work with someone who understands drama.

"Why have you summoned me, Lady."

He's not 100% sure that's what has happened, but it seems a safe bet and it sounds good either way.

She cocks her head to the side and smiles. "I didn't. She did." And gestures grandly to something behind Ren's head.

It's another woman. A hybrid of some kind, Ren isn't sure what exactly but she smells like primate and her ears and eyes are large and the dappled fur at her temples is a soft grey that is almost lavender purple.

"Hello Ren," The mystery woman greets him. "My name is Netty. Netty Plays. I believe you know my husband."

Ren has no idea who she's talking about but before he can respond Mumbo leans forward on the sofa, working clay mixed with redstone through his fingers, back and forth, kneading it. It's a common stress response Ren has observed in him.

"There's another Game Server happening." Mumbo tucks the red-clay away in his inventory and stands, almost hitting his head on a ceiling beam. (If this is ShadowLady and SmallishBean's home that makes sense that their ceilings are not very tall.) "Would you like to join us for an interdimensional jailbreak?"

[that-fruitier-emo]

|| TFE/Vic's OC Master Post || Part 3 || Poseing ||

Vic's complete guide to OC posing and reference points

Edwyn

Edwyn is very layed back, he will almost always lean against walls, desks, chairs, or other assorted furniture every chance he gets.

He has the world's most terrible posture, because of this his back is always hurting.

Edwyn is very skinny, having a hard time lifting most stuff. He's also 5"4.

Usually sits in chairs with his legs over the arm, sprawled all the way across in an uncomfortable looking manor.

Archer

Archer always stands crooked, and slouches his back, being my tallest oc at 6"1 it doesn't do much to his height.

Archer is also quiet a bit bulkier than Edwyn.

Also has very bad posture.

Sits in chairs almost always with his feet up on his seat, wether they're hugged to his chest, or he's sitting on them.

Rowan

Rowan is shorter than Archer but taller than Edwyn at 5"7.

He has a little bit more body weight, natural body fat, and natural musculature. He's what most would consider "healthy looking", only slightly over the healthy weight for his age.

When it comes to posing Rowan I sort of think of Fred from Scooby Doo. He's moreso confident and cocky.

He will sit in a chair normally depending on the company he's with, but a majority of the time he will sit with one of his legs over the arm, one on the seat, almost always leaning into the other arm with his shoulders.

Julie

Unlike both of her brothers, Julie has astounding posture. She almost always stands up right with her back straight to appear taller than she is.

Standing at 5"1 she also wears the occasional tall shoe to help with her height.

She usually sits in a chair normally, unless she's painting her nails, in which she'll have her feet up on the cushion.

At school she rests her arm on the back of chairs, giving off a more convenient demeanor though.

Marshall

Marshall standing exactly 5"0 doesn't use any tactics or techniques to make himself look taller or shorter.

He's just as skinny as Edwyn, in the fact a lot of the time when he stretches you can see his ribcage.

Marshall is a siren, so he feels much more in touch with a liquid state of being. His poses are almost always more dynamic and fluid.

His parents are more transphobic, so he observes how his little brother sits in chairs as to feel more accepted. Ending up being an unfortunate victim of man spreading.

Cedric

Cedric standing at 5"2 is the second shortest among the Vanhaggen-Broadren siblings.

He has the worst posture out of everyone, partially because he's the youngest, and never stands up straight. Always slouches, and almost always drags his feet.

His back is bony, but he has more heavy than Edwyn and Rowan.

He doesn't sit. He lays down on the floor dramatically.

Corbin

Corbin stands at 5"5, constantly making fun of Edwyn for being short. Despite Corbin being one of the only three people taller than Edwyn.

Corbin is decently skinny, but still pretty bulky.

He leans against counters, and walls because he think it makes him look more attractive.

He's usually sits either on tables or on desks, also cause he thinks it makes him look more attractive.

Eli

Eli stands among them as the shortest at 4"7, and rather than standing to make himself look taller, he stands trying to make himself look smaller. Him being less confident about almost everything.

Eli has more body mass than everyone else.

He's less active, but still pretty healthy. Also being the friend that is always on everyone's back about them eating.

No matter if he's sitting in a chair or on the ground, he always either sits criss cross applesauce, or hugging his legs to his chest.

@thatdumbgoth @todds-diary

[lesbianrobin]

@sharpbutsoft tagged me in a wip ask game!! thank you!!!

Rules:

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

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WIPs:

young strangers

spooky harrington

i hid behind smiles and crazy-hot clothes i learned to kiss boys with my tongue

OH VICKIE YOU'RE SO FINE YOU'RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY MIND HEY VICKIE!

Snippet:

(from spooky harrington)

The story goes like this:

Julia Davis was sitting in the emergency room at Hawkins Memorial waiting for her brother to get a cast on his arm after he fell off his bike. It was taking a long time, and she hates hospitals, so she decided to take a walk outside around the parking lot just for something to do. Here’s where Eddie knows the story’s at least a little bit bullshit; Julia Davis buys from him every week, and he’d bet anything that she was smoking in the parking lot for a bit of stress relief.

The rest is as follows: She heard sirens right as she was about to go back inside. It wasn’t an ambulance, it was a cop car, so she decided to watch what was going on. Eddie personally suspects that she was keeping an eye out because she smelled like pot. Either way, she watched as a cop pulled Will Byers’ limp form out of the backseat. Will’s mom climbed out from the passenger seat, and instead of immediately following after her son, she opened the other back door to the car, and the whole world shifted.

What she saw has changed a little bit over time. It’s different depending on who you ask, whether anybody on the basketball team is within earshot, or if Tommy Hagan is anywhere near you. If Tommy Hagan’s around, she didn’t see shit.

If Hagan’s fucked off, though, if you aren’t around the basketball team? Harrington’s hands were caked in dried blood. Maybe it was mud, Julia always hedged, but it just… looked like something else. Whatever it was, it ran down his chin, too, stains dripping from his lips all the way to his bare chest. She could see some awful scrapes and bruises down each arm, angry red slashes criss-crossing his back and his pecs, and his sweatpants seemed to be drenched in mud or blood or something awful that stained his bare feet as well.

i'm not gonna tag anybody jfcjdjcj but yeah 💖

[my-own-walker]

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

3.

I slammed the apartment door shut and threw my bag onto the ground. My keys landed with a loud clatter on the counter. My boots clunked against the wall after kicking them off as hard as possible. 

"Jesus, Han, what's your damage?" Lily groaned, emerging from her room. She was nursing a mighty hangover. Pi Phi took "Thirsty Thursdays" seriously.

"That fucking class makes me sick," I spat, throwing myself onto the couch. I looked over at Lily who had shuffled further into the living room. It was only the second week of classes and she had already skipped three lectures.

"What class?" she asked, dragging her feet as she traveled to the kitchen. She turned the tap on and poured herself a glass of water.

I chewed my cheek, pulling my legs up to sit criss-cross-applesauce on the sofa. "Calculus," I sighed, throwing my head back. "Another quiz today."

"Why the fuck did you sign up for calculus, Hannah?" Lily scoffed, throwing a few pills into her mouth before using her water to swallow them. "You know you suck at math. Why such a hard class?" she continued after a large gulp.

"Man, I was late for registration, remember? It was the only math available."

"I just don't understand why you didn't hold off until next semester, or even next year, then," she shrugged. She walked to join me on the sofa. She sat and swung her legs up to the side and rested her head on my shoulder. 

"I wanna take fun classes my senior year," I whined. "I can't hold it off forever." Lily nestled into the crook of my neck.

"What upset you today anyways?" she asked.

"Pretty sure I failed another quiz. I am going to ruin my GPA for a stupid math credit," I muttered. "Plus, I humiliated the fuck out of myself."

"How so?"

"I was desperate. Like, my mind was fucking blank. So I decided to try to cheat," I replied sheepishly. Lily popped her head up and looked at me, baffled. 

For some helpful context, I was practically a perfect student. High school Hannah graduated with a 4.0 GPA. I was involved in student government, theater, and the French club. I was on the honor roll and was in the running for valedictorian. I excelled so much that I got into every college I applied to. I received decent scholarships, if not full rides, from each university as well.

I never got in trouble, either. Along with my good grades, I was also a model student. I never skipped school, I never cheated on tests, and I sure as hell never got yelled at by my teachers. I was so scared of being reprimanded that I worked extra hard to be flawless. The only time I could remember being told off by a teacher was during fourth grade. She didn't even yell at me, per se. She questioned the integrity of my reading log, thinking I may have forged my mother's signature, and I lost it.

My need for perfection didn't stop when I started college. Lily would always make fun of me for how hard I tried to get perfect grades in every single class. I wanted to keep my options open in terms of grad school, so I had to continue to excel. She swore I would develop a stomach ulcer one day because of the stress I put on myself. The Hannah she knew would never cheat.

"I know, Lily," I groaned. "But I couldn't not. I can't fail this shitty class."

"So you tried to cheat. Tried. What happened?" she asked. "Did you get caught or something?"

"Yes, but not by the professor. The kid I was cheating off of caught me," I laughed, shaking my head at myself. "Kyle fucking Spencer. The frat guy."

"Hannah," Lily gasped.

"I know."

"That's so bad. Humiliating almost. What the fuck made you decide to do that? Like, Kyle Spencer. Kyle Spencer of Kappa Lambda Gamma," she cried.

"He's like, scary good in the class. He's a math god or something. I couldn't help but notice so I leaned over to see his answers," I explained. "He saw me and covered his paper, then made fun of me outside as I was leaving."

"That's so bad," Lily audibly whispered. 

"I fuckin' know," I uttered. Lily returned her head to my shoulder. I relaxed into her and pulled my cell phone out of my pants pocket. I mindlessly scrolled Twitter, trying to forget everything that had transpired in the day. I was so embarrassed and likely failing calculus. Lily shifted next to me and sniffed.

"I don't feel good," she groaned. I rubbed her arm knowingly.

"You know what would make you feel better?" 

"What?"

"Alcohol," I replied deviously. Lily sat up quickly to look me in the eyes. She feigned a gag before mustering a response.

"You're kidding." She flopped back onto the other side of the couch demonstratively. "Hannah, I can't even think about drinking right now."

"Did you ever hear of 'Hair of the Dog'?" I scoffed.

"No, Han, I'm not a bastard Bostonian," she moaned. "I don't know any stupid northern sayings like that."

I reached over and smacked her leg lightly. "Excuse me, miss," I gasped. "I'll have you know that that is NOT just a northern-exclusive saying. And, I am not from Boston." I folded my arms over my chest, feigning shock. "Hair of the Dog is drinking more when you're hungover, bitch. It's supposed to help."

"I think you're an alcoholic," Lily murmured. 

I stood from the sofa and padded over to the kitchen, electing to make myself something to eat before drowning in liquor. We needed to go grocery shopping. There wasn't much left in the pantry besides bread and various cans of vegetables and soup. I decided some toast would be fine.

"On second thought, Hannah," Lily called from the other room, "I think I need a fuckin' drink."

"That's my girl," I smiled, satisfied with my job of convincing my friend to engage in bad behavior with me. 

+

I knew from the second I met Lily Davies that I'd have my hands full. She garnered everyone's attention. She was a bright light that no one could take their eyes off of. Lily was beautiful. And I'm not saying that lightly. There was a light in her eyes that let others know she wasn't some run-of-the-mill pretty girl. No. She was witty. Funny. She could draw a crowd.

I consider myself so lucky to have her. When we met, I half expected her to laugh in my face. In my eyes, we existed on two very different planes. Nonetheless, we clicked, and for that, I was forever grateful. At parties like this, she commanded the room, while I became a wallflower. Our relationship was simple. She would drag me to parties, I would be her de-facto bodyguard, she would have fun, and I would make sure we got home in one piece.

I watched her as she danced in her itty-bitty black dress. Her shiny blonde hair bounced as she moved and the light hit her skin perfectly. I kept my eyes fixated on her. I was more than happy with being the sidekick in Lily's story. More than happy to be the bad guy that pulled her away from unsavory men. She was a sunflower and I was her stem, supporting her through anything.

She had the power to say things to men that would steal their breath and make them delirious. It was dizzying. I made it my personal job to rescue her from situations she didn't want to find herself in. When she got drunk, she got flirty, and college boys have an easy time taking things the wrong way.

We landed on heading to Tau Kappa Epsilon's beginning-of-semester party after much debate. When I begged Lily to drink with me, I meant in our apartment, watching movies and eating disgusting quantities of junk food. All fraternities and sororities on campus were invited, though. So there I went, supporting my best friend in her social endeavors. 

The crowd was suffocating. TKE's house wasn't big enough to hold an event like that. But Lily still found a way to dance. She was like that. With good music and a little something to drink, she was the life of the party. 

I left her to go get us some more drinks. We pre-gamed the party in the apartment. The plan was to arrive drunk and get home relatively sober. But once we got there, she decided she needed something more. I didn't trust the knuckleheads serving the alcohol to not give her something extra in her drink if she went to get it herself. Instead of joining her, though, I delivered her a red solo cup full of cheap beer and returned to my spot against the wall. It wasn't a pleasant night for a party of this caliber. I sweat bullets through my dress.

Party attire was important. I didn't care much for dresses, but the situation I found myself in warranted it. Out of sheer avoidance of great guy bullies making fun of me, I settled on a loose-fitting floral print dress I found at a thrift store. Regardless of how cooling it should have been, the humidity in the air was unbearable. Maybe I shouldn't have worn the Doc Martens.

I looked back over at Lily and found that the wolves had descended on her. Two guys, the identities of which I couldn't make out, stood uncomfortably close to her. They were stooped down, I assume in an attempt to hear her better.

I could tell by the way he was holding himself, that one of the dudes thought he was the shit. He stood with his shoulders wide and his chin tilted upward.  I grew sick watching him speak closely to her ear. She replied with a smile to whatever he said, looking up at him with her sparkly doe eyes. I could see this ending horribly. I began meandering through the throngs of people, trying to get to her before it was too late.

As I was steps away from Lily and the two frat guys, I watched one place a hand on her hip, pulling her closer to him. Her eyes widened and her stance stiffened up. She was clearly uncomfortable.

"Hey, asshole!" I shouted. "Get your fucking hands off her!"

"Hey, hey," The guy shouted protectively, throwing his hands up. He turned to face me, and to my dismay, it was Kyle. "What's good?"

"Do you mind letting go of her, please?" I spat, standing with my arms folded. Lily looked at me with pleading eyes. I could see by the way she was swaying that she was very drunk. The poor girl had problems standing up for herself, but that's what I was there for.

"She doesn't have a problem with me, right Lily?" Kyle replied, hugging my best friend tighter, playfully mussing up her hair.

"Bro, let go of her," I persisted, stepping forward slightly. 

"I'm not doing anythi-"

"I will fucking scream," I yelled, interrupting him.

"Fine, fine," Kyle laughed, releasing Lily from his grasp and shoving her gently in my direction. He looked at his frat brother, Ethan with wide eyes and chuckled again. "What, are you like, in love with her?" He was trying to tease me, but I was too angry to care.

"Shut the fuck up, Spencer," I gritted back, grabbing Lily by the hand, and beginning to walk away.

"Hey, you didn't think so bad of me when you were looking at my quiz earlier," he called after me, punctuating the barb with a laugh. I didn't turn around, though. Instead, I continued to weave through the crowd, trying to get to the door.

I muttered a softly spoken magic spell willing the universe to have Kyle get hit by a bus on his way home.

Previous Part | Next Part

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 495, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death

WORDS: 1190

“- and then BOOM!” Katie was chattering excitedly as she told me about the episode of MythBusters that the kids had watched while Isabelle swept the kitchen and dining room following dinner the night before. “It was so cool!”

I hummed softly as I finger combed out her silky hair, a dark black in color with natural red highlights, a feature which she inherited from her father. She had her mother’s almond shaped eyes and delicate Asian features, but I couldn’t tell who she took more from personality wise.

“What was your favorite episode of MythBusters?” Elizabeth wondered as she knitted, something that both she and her sister did to channel their nervous energy.

“Well…” I nibbled on my bottom lip as I fell into deep thought. “The one where a cannonball accidently goes shooting off into someone’s house is always a good one!”

“We didn’t see that one yet!” Katie yelled out in excitement as Peter exited the bathroom, carrying a bundled up Baby Violet Marie. Cocooned in towels and love, the redheaded baby was bright pink from an impromptu bath following her EEG. “When is that?”

“I don’t remember exactly,” I confessed from my spot on the floor, where I was engaging in some gentle post pregnancy yoga. Little girl and Baby Tommy were on either sides of me, both babies copying their mommy to the best of their abilities.

“Mama Wen Wen, mesies strechies stretchs like you?” little girl meeped, looking up at me with her mother’s sapphire blue eyes. “Pleasies please?”

I hummed softly, not quite knowing what she was saying until she plonked herself down into a full on split.

“Let me clarify that now, little girl,” I said to her as I folded myself into criss cross applesauce. “You want to be flexible like your Mama Wen Wen, am I understanding you right?”

“Yes yes yes yes…” chanted the adorable three year old.

“Mesies too too, mesies too too!” pouted Baby Tommy, trying to copy his big sister.

I only smiled as I showed them a few easy stretches to get them started and then sitting back to watch them. Both babies sat on the floor in a spread eagle position with their feet touching and began to gently pull the other towards them, both babies giggling manically as they babbled absolutely nothing to each other.

“Sweetheart, what have you started?” Peter chortled as he sat down in the recliner to give Baby Violet Marie some skine to skin.

“I have no idea, my love!” I retorted back to him with a dainty sniff as Elizabeth and Katie waited patiently for their turn at chattering their parent’s ears off.

“Mommy mommy mommy, Auntie Sammi dropped Baby Noah off for a sleepover last night!” Katie continued spilling the tea. “She had to attend a work related meeting and her usual sitter backed out at the last possible minute.”

“Ah.” I knew just what Sammi’s “work related meeting” was. “Sound like fun. What did you do?”

“We watched Wish!” Elizabeth answered in a bright tone of voice. “And then we got bundled up and went into the backyard to wish upon wishing stars!”

“Oh my, it sounds like you had fun!” I commented as little girl pulled Baby Tommy across herself.

“I think it’ll start snowing soon!” the Asian American member of the Ratajczyk family beamed. “And you know what that means!”

“Baking Christmas cookies!” cheered Elizabeth.

“Snowmen snowmen!” guggled little girl, letting go of her younger brother to clap her hands.

“Cwist mas movies!” yelled Baby Tommy as he chewed on his fist.

I giggled at the sudden explosion of love and giggles that flooded over me and made my heart feel light and fluffy and happy. I used the bed to get back up onto my feet, waving the two older girls away as they flew to my side to help me.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” I protested. “I’ll be better once I get off from the toilet, though!”

“Alright, blueberry of my heart!” Peter chuckled. “Let out a yell if you need absolutely anything at all.”

“Yes daddy!” I sent him a smart salute before scuttling into the bathroom.

I sighed as I sat down on the toilet, tossing me head backwards as the feeling of too full, too full went away as my bowels released the urine that they have been storing.

Ten minutes later, I was still peeing.

“Sweetheart? Are you alright?” Peter asked me as he hovered in the doorway, not quite entering as he waited for me to grant his access.

“Peter?” I meeped timidly as my fingers curled into my fist from their place in my lap. “I can’t stop peeing.”

“Jesus-” he swore softly. “Do you want me to call for a nurse?”

“Yes please.” I was absolutely embarrassed at the state of my body as I sat there on the toilet, ejecting urine in a nonstop stream. “Peter? Can you please make sure that it’s a female nurse?”

“Always.” The corners of his dazzling hazel blue eyes crinkled upwards as he kipped out of the bathroom and went off down to the nurses’ station to ask for some assistance. He returned five minutes later with a nurse in pink scrubs and a yellow cap.

“Okay, what seems to be the problem here?”

“I can’t stop peeing…” I whined, scooting backwards a little bit to allow her to collect some of my pee into a cup for lab testings.

“I think you may have a urinary tract infection. They’re totally normal to get right after giving birth. I’ll send this off to the lab for further analysis and then I’ll return with some medication for you, okay?”

“Gramacy,” I whimpered as she went off on her way.

Peter came back into the bathroom with a sealed bottle of water, which he handed to me with a smile.

“Never fear, sweetheart of mine,” he rumbled playfully. “Super Peter is here!”

Gramercy, thank you, old French? 

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[ptergwen]

hi I saw your requests were open if there not anymore you can completely ignore this :). but could you do a boyfriend!peter x reader where he loves it when reader gives him those little kisses on his nose and freckles with head scratches please. feel free to change or completely ignore this <3

thousands of tiny stars

pretend i haven’t used this

warnings: a couple suggestive jokes but the rest is just floofy fluff

a/n: i got carried away as per usual and i did end up changing it a tiny bit :/ emphasis on tiny tho lmfhsjfh you’ll see ! either way i hope you enjoy mwah

-

one thing about peter is that he absolutely can’t sit still under any given circumstances. he’s restless, like a burning ball of energy that’s brightness never dims.

because of this, he tries to and needs to keep himself occupied and be kept occupied every second of every day.

it’s sometimes playing with his fingers or your own, which peter prefers because he gets to hold your hand. other times, it’s tapping his favorite pink glitter pen relentlessly against the kitchen table while he conjures up homework answers.

aunt may isn’t very fond of that one.

this time, it’s constantly shuffling about the couch in the name of finding comfort.

peter starts off with an arm around your shoulders and a content grin on his face. you two agreed on mean girls for the first movie of your marathon, your head resting against peter’s chest as the tv steals your attention.

a few minutes in, peter decides he feels like being held rather than holding you. he sneaks his way down your body, lets himself nudge your thighs to wordlessly communicate what he wants. you of course oblige and switch positions accordingly.

peter lays his head in your lap, taking the opportunity to stare up at you instead of at the screen.

he finds himself shifting around again not too much later. now laying on the couch’s armrest on his side, he kicks his feet into your lap where his head just was.

you’re becoming slightly annoyed with his fidgeting. his explanations of sorry, just trying to get comfortable and innocent smiles are what stop you from complaining.

“that’s strike three, parker,” you joke, eyes leaving the movie to fix on him. peter crosses his arms over his chest. “i dunno what you’re talking about, y/l/n,” he insists. “i haven’t done anything remotely strike-worthy so far this evening.”

flicking his sock clad foot, you mutter your response. “debatable.” peter dismisses you with a huff. “whatever. c’mere… i miss you.” he makes grabby hands for you, like the big baby he is.

it’s quite endearing, though.

“i’m right here, pete,” you laugh out and return your gaze to mean girls. “and yet, you’re so far,” peter counters. “come gimme cuddles.”

you sigh lightheartedly, your ever so clingy boyfriend still reaching out for you. a smirk pulls at your lips.

“well, there’s an offer i can’t refuse.”

peter adjusts so he’s sitting criss cross, bouncing excitedly in his spot. his chocolate brown curls fall in all directions, form being swallowed by an oversized stark industries hoodie that he keeps having to roll up the sleeves of.

he looks so soft and snuggly in anticipation of your cuddle session. you can’t believe you were ever annoyed at him.

slightly annoyed.

he’s so eager that when you scoot the tiniest bit towards him, he literally pulls you into his lap. peter’s arms hug you around your lower back, you laughing quietly as he peppers a trail of kisses from your cheek to the side of your neck.

the movie long forgotten about, you wind your arms around his neck and tilt your chin up.

“pete?” you breathe out. peter pecks your cheek once more, then your other, beaming. “yeah, babe?” he wonders. with a half serious half teasing glare, you wonder, “are you comfy now?”

peter ponders your question, and from the skeptical furrowing of his eyebrows and biting of his lip, you have your answer. he’s about to make you regret asking.

it seems that as soon as you settle, peter gets antsy.

“uh, actually…” he strokes his thumb along the underside of your chin, smiling apologetically. “you mind if we lie down? ‘m kinda tired.” there it is. you roll your eyes. “how could you not be? you’ve been playing musical chairs all night.”

your words earn a chuckle from peter, though they’re at his expense. “this’ll be the last round, promise,” peter swears and seals the deal with a kiss to your chin, which is currently grasped between his fingers.

you know it won’t be. the game goes on forever with peter, unless you end it yourself.

“damn right, bug boy. move another inch after this and you can consider your cuddle privileges revoked,” you grumble, getting off of peter’s lap. he stares at you in pure horror, gasping. “you wouldn’t…” “i would,” you correct him.

not aiming to test that theory, peter quickly fumbles around and lays flat against the cushions. he wills himself to be stiff as a board. you seem satisfied with that, climbing on top of him with your face hovering above his.

peter sets his hands on your hips, grip strong. he closes the space between you both with a short kiss. you reciprocate and deepen it, turning short to long as your parted lips slot with his. his tongue darts out, already skimming over your bottom lip for more access.

you hum into his mouth and allow his tongue to slide in. peter kisses you so tenderly as he rubs circles on your hips, your fingers tangling in his locks simultaneously. you weave them up to his roots, using your nails to gently scratch at his scalp just the way he likes. he breaks the kiss to let out a noise close to a moan.

“that- that… oh, god yeah,” peter praises, his eyes fluttering closed. you’re amused at how easily pleased he is. “don’t cream your pants yet, pete. i’m just getting started,” you purr. peter squeezes your hips in response. “feels better than an orgasm, babe. i’m serious, too,” he murmurs.

you continue your handiwork in his hair and lean in for another kiss. peter merely pecks your lips before jerking away.

“wait, hold that thought,” he exhales a breathy laugh. “i gotta pee.”

he has to be kidding. again with this?

“oh no, you don’t,” you deadpan, pushing against his shoulders to hold him down. “oh yes, i do,” peter retorts. “let me go, y/n/n.”

peter could definitely slither out from underneath you if he truly wanted to. he has super strength, so the might of his teenage girlfriend doesn’t quite compare.

pinning him in place, you straddle his waist. “nope, you’re gonna stay. i’m not giving you a choice in the matter.” peter attempts to pry you off of him, but you won’t budge. “y/n, my bladder is gonna explode-“

he cuts himself off with a giggle when your lips begin to attack him. you kiss down the bridge of his nose lightly, peck each freckle dotting his skin, and the amount of them is infinite. peter’s fit of giggles continues as you smooch that pretty face of his, his cheeks dusted pink and hands coming up to support you by your sides.

he’s always been a little insecure about his freckles. they don’t suit him, there are too many of them, blah blah blah. you obviously couldn’t disagree more. you think they’re sick.

you’d once even told him they look like thousands of tiny stars, and peter does love stars. he also loves the kisses you tend to randomly surprise him with to remind him to appreciate his freckles the same way you do.

“okay, okay! i’ll stay!” peter concedes, you ruffling his hair and pressing a final kiss to the tip of his nose. he grins despite himself, and secretly wishes you wouldn’t stop. “but, if my kidneys fail… it’s on you.”

you pat his chest definitively.

“good thing you’re a fast healer.”

[ronaldmcdonaldfucker]

Love Letters- Klitz Pt. 2

Pairing: Klitz x GN!Reader

W.C: 1.1k

Warnings: Injury (bloody nose)

The house was empty upon your arrival, not that you minded. Everyone knew you’d be going to Klitz’s house for the night, and if everything went as planned, you’d be out of your home before anyone came home. You grabbed a spare backpack, packing it with the necessities, as well as a stuffed animal for emotional support.

“I just don’t get it, Captain Crunch. Why doesn't he realize my feelings? I don’t hide them, or at least not very well.” You sat criss-cross on your bed, with a plush bear in your lap. He had seen many years of tears, and you told him the things you couldn't find the courage to tell anyone else. He was a gift from Klitz, many birthdays ago, but he meant the world to you. The other guys teased you for holding onto it for so long, but Klitz secretly found it cute. Not that you knew that, of course, but there’s no way he’d ever admit it.

It turns out you guys had way more secrets than either of you knew about.

A quick 5-minute cry got most of the bottled-up emotions out, and you headed out the door and to your car. It was only a 2-minute drive, but you didn’t want your family going through your car while you were gone; that would be hell. Klitz must’ve been upstairs in his room, so you just let yourself in. You’d been coming to his home since you were 7, so it was as much of your home as it was his. His parents love you, they weren't shy about it at all, and you adored them as well. They were always so sweet, so welcoming. You spent more time at his house than you did your own, and it surely felt more like home.

You opened up the front door and kicked off your shoes, said hi to the family cat, and made your way up the stairs. The faint sounds of ‘Back To The Future’ flowed out of his room, carrying down the empty hall. You smiled softly, listening to the dialogue before knocking on the door. You could hear the shifting of the covers as he got up and walked over to his door, and it only added to your anxiety.

“Hey,” he said softly as he opened the door. You gave him a quick hug and sat your stuff down on his bed before flopping onto it. “Wow, real graceful, Y/N,” Klitz remarked sarcastically. He’d joined you on the bed at this point, and was laying facing you. You took a quick second to remark on his features, from his shaggy brown hair to his round glasses, you adored it all. Blood rushed to your face as you made eye contact, the tension in the room was undeniable.

“Kids, I’m home!” Marie, Klitz’s mom, was home. Sure, the interruption was upsetting, but you were stoked to see her. You rushed to your feet, stopping for a second to deal with the dizziness, and then continued down the stairs. You must’ve been running too fast because your socks caused you to slip, and inevitably hit the ground face-first. Exactly what you needed today, how wonderful?

Klitz hurried down the remaining steps and frantically helped you up, but the poor boy was seriously scared when he saw blood. His mother rushed to the garage to find the First-Aid Kit. Klitz had his arm around your shoulder, guiding you to the counter and helping you to sit atop it. He got a box of tissues that would have to suffice until his mom got back, and started wiping the blood from your nose. He must’ve done it subconsciously, but his free hand was cupping your cheek gently, rubbing small circles on the skin beneath it. A small act of kindness, but it felt so good. Especially coming from him. It took everything in you to not lean forward the final few inches and kiss him, but once again, you couldn’t afford to ruin your friendship. You didn’t realize that a few tears had made their way down your cheeks, but Klitz surely did. “Are- Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He seemed more affected by it than you did, he was just that loving towards you. To an outsider, it must've looked like a young couple in love. It sure felt like you were one, and you sure wished you were one. Marie came back with the First-Aid Kit and set it down on the counter by the two of you, and left you two alone. “I’ll let you two lovebirds handle that, gosh I remember when I was your age.” She admired the two of you with complete admiration. If Eli was a ‘Klitz x Y/N’, as he put it, fan; then Klitz’s mom was a super fan. She loved you on your own, but seeing your constant love and wonderful treatment towards her son made you two her dream couple. “Mom!” Klitz retracted his hand from your face to rub the back of his neck, something he did when he was embarrassed. You simply laughed and shook your head, but truth be told you were upset he took his hand away. God, you were touch starved.

You two finished up cleaning your nose and headed to the living room for some ‘quality couple bonding time’ as Matt and Eli put it, despite the fact you two weren’t dating, not yet . “Shark week?” You asked him, despite already knowing the answer, you just wanted to hear his voice. “You know it,” He grinned and sat down on the couch, taking his usual place. One time he sat in ‘your spot’, as you called it, and you got so upset with him and forced him to move. He didn’t understand why, to him, it was just a seat. But you were a creature of habit, and when those habits were changed it upset the balance in your life. You hated that more than anything. You spaced out, not paying attention to the TV, although neither was Klitz. His mind was on the letter, the letter you wrote. “Hey, Y/N?” He finally broke the silence, bringing you out of deep thought. “You study linguistics, right?” and simply nodded your head and let out a quiet hum, interested in where this was going. “Well, I was just wondering if you could help me analyze the poem from earlier? Maybe look for some clues as to who this ‘Lover’ person is.” Your heart sank when he proposed the idea, trying to figure out a way to say no without seeming suspicious. “Oh, well, maybe. I’m not quite sure, can you show me the letter? I’ll see what I can do.” You couldn’t outright say no to him, you just couldn't.

[babyboy-cody]

Literally your Grayson smut has me GONE 😵‍💫😵‍💫 can I ask for like anything that has to do with Gray fingering reader with his arm across the back of the couch and his lips against your ear with dirty talk???? Love you!

okay you’ve officially KILLED ME 😮‍💨

It had been Kristina and yours idea to have a movie night/fort. While the twins were reluctant, seeing the excitement on their girls’ faces was enough for them to help create the giant fort in the living room. Kristina and Ethan chose their spot on the floor in front of yours and Grayson’s spot on the couch. The four of you had your own assortment of snacks so that there wasn’t the continuous interruption of the movie when one of you needed to get up and get another snack.

The layout of the separate forts were quite simple. For Ethan and Kristina’s fort, couch cushions were placed behind and on either side of them with a large blanket covering the top. The cushions were big enough for them to sit underneath without their heads touching the blanket. Yours and Grayson’s fort had tall cushions on either side with a bigger blanket covering the top, sides, as well as the back of the couch. The lights were all off and the sun had already set - the only source of light being from the huge television hung on the wall above the fireplace.

Halfway through the movie, Grayson had gotten a little bored and started getting distracted by his own thoughts. He subtly turned his head to look down at you, his thoughts suddenly being overcome by you. The soft hues of light coming from the television made you look angelic that it nearly took his breath away. With your beautifully curled eyelashes, the soft slope of your nose, your parted lips as your entire focus was on the movie playing - every single thing about you enticed him. He couldn’t stop himself from lowering his head until his lips were at your ear to huskily whisper, “You’re so pretty.”

Almost immediately, your attention was pulled away from the movie and was focused on the handsome man beside you. You felt your cheeks warm up as your breathing stuttered. “Pay attention to the movie,” you softly whispered and nudged him with your elbow. Grayson loved how shy you got when you were complimented, especially when it came from him. He was obsessed with the effect he had on you.

“How could I when you’re sitting next to me?” He whispered in your ear again, watching closely when you squirmed closer to him. “You don’t understand how hard it is not to fuck you right here.”

You muffled your gasp and looked up at him in shock at how vulgar he was being, especially with company around. He has a smug grin on his face as he licks his lips. Under the blanket splayed across both your laps, he placed his right hand on your inner thigh and slowly spreads them.

“Think you can keep quiet for me, pretty girl?” He huskily asked in your ear, lightly nipping your earlobe and relishing in the way you shivered. You frantically nodded and bit your lip as you gripped the blanket to make sure it doesn’t slide down. There was a lump in your throat and a rush of butterflies in your stomach. It dawned on you that Grayson was seriously going to finger you while Ethan and Kristina were a few feet away.

He applied the slightest pressure against the crotch of your shorts. He rubbed agonizingly slow circles, hard enough for you to feel those sparks of pleasure. Your lips part to let out a choked and soft gasp. Grayson chuckles quietly in your ear before whispering, “That feel good?” And you nod frantically while eagerly spreading your thighs more open. It was embarrassing how desperate you seemed, but every little thing Grayson did always made you desperate. “If I slide my hand down these little shorts, are you gonna be wet for me?”

“M-Maybe..” you let out a shy giggle, barely flinching when a loud explosion erupts from the movie. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

He immediately slides his large and veiny hand under the waistband of your shorts, pressing his fingers back against the crotch of your panties this time - the fabric so damp and sticking to your dripping pussy. Grayson lets out a muffled groan that he hides in your hair. Somehow, the thought of getting caught didn’t scare you anymore. It just amped up the excitement.

“You’re dripping through these fucking panties,” he huffs a small laugh of disbelief, his hot breath hitting your ear and making you shiver once again. “Take off your shorts.” To your dismay, he pulls his hand out and gets himself comfortable - legs spread, body slouched, left arm never once moving from behind your shoulders on the back of the couch. Hastily pulling off your shorts, you readjusted the blanket until it covered yours and Grayson’s lap, as well as spreading your thighs to its original position. His hand goes right back between them and nestles against your clothed cunt. He can feel the outline of your pussy lips against the thin fabric and the small button of your clit beginning to swell.

Kristina and Ethan suddenly let out boisterous laughter after a particular funny scene, briefly scaring you at the possibility if one or both of them coming out if their fort and catching you and Grayson. His long fingers start rubbing your clit a little faster, now applying harder pressure for you to feel that tingly sensation. You rest your head back on his arm, your hips barely twitching against his hand. He whispers a small “fuck” in your ear, very slowly and finally sliding his hand into your panties to gain perfect access to your bare pussy.

Your brows furrowed and bitten lips parted, your face contorting into one of relief. Grayson couldn’t believe how wet you were until he dipped his fingers down to scoop some of your slick. He can almost here the obscene wet noises of his fingers rubbing all over your click to spread your wetness. You hastily grabbed onto his wide wrist, nails digging into his tanned and hairy skin.

With his lips against your ear, in a husky and gruff voice, he mumbles, “Just lay back and let daddy do what he does best.” Almost instantly, he began rubbing frantic circles on your swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure that has your eyes rolling back and pussy clenching around nothing. He’s rubbing you just right - it’s almost too much but not enough. The hood of your clit just barely pulled back until your bundle of nerves was fully exposed. The pads of Grayson’s fingers pressed down against it and it has your stomach bursting with butterflies. More slick pools out of you as you fight back your moans. With one hand around his moving wrist, the other clamps down over your mouth.

“I can’t wait to fuck you nice and hard when this movie ends,” Grayson cockily tells you, pulling away to look at your expression. His pupils have expanded from arousal. He never once let up the speed of his fingers on your inflamed cunt. He rubs much faster and harder, loving how hard it is for you not to let out your pleasure filled squeals and moans. Your hips began bucking more freely against his hand. “You want my fingers inside, pretty girl?”

“Yes yes yes yes,” you quietly babbled incoherently as your clit throbbed erratically, the tingles spreading like a wildfire throughout your lower-half. Your toes curled when Grayson roughly shoves his middle and ring fingers inside your cunt, the burning stretch making your eyes cross as you let out a pretty loud gasp that was thankfully silenced by a couple arguing on the screen. He starts fucking your pussy with his fingers, crooking them and rubbing your g-spot perfectly. The palm of his hand presses and rubs your clit. Both sensations has your mind turning to mush.

“You’re just soaking all over my fingers, aren’t you?” He softly asks in a condescending way. You can now hear the sopping wet noises of his fingers fucking your insides. You didn’t realize how loud it was.

“Yo, can you both stop making out please?” Ethan shouted from his spot in his own fort, immediately making your eyes open and thighs shutting around Grayson’s hand and wrist. “It’s loud as fuck! And gross!”

“My bad, bro,” Grayson lets out a full belly laugh and doesn’t stop the come hither motions of his fingers. He looks down at you with a grin wide enough for you to see the jewel on his canine tooth. He silently raised his brows at you as if challenging you to say something. He pulls his fingers out from your tightening cunt, just as you’re on the cusp of a strong orgasm, and he goes back to rubbing your clit at a fast pace. Your mouth falls open and your head falls back against his arm again. You’re holding onto his arm with both hands now to ground yourself. He leans in close to your face, his floppy hair brushing against your temple. “Are you gonna cum, angel?”

At the sight of your frantic nodding and heavy panting, he rubs faster and harder. And then you felt it. The wave getting higher and higher and higher. Your toes curled as you practically humped his hand like a dog in heat. When that wave finally crashed down, you had to bury your face in Grayson’s neck. He gruffly groans and shoves his middle and ring fingers back inside your pussy, feeling your walls contracting around them to keep your orgasm going. He slows his fingers to a stop before gently rubbing your overstimulated clit with his thumb. When you let out a small whimper against neck, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead and pulls his fingers out of you.

“You still wanna fuck later?” He bluntly asks you, staring at his pruned fingers coated in your cum.

You elbowed him with a quiet laugh. “How could I refuse that offer?”

He side eyes you - a gesture he always does because it makes you blush - and slowly licks his fingers into his mouth, letting out a deep moan only you can hear. Suddenly, the movie pauses and Ethan announced, “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You quickly grabbed the couch pillow and held it against your chest to hide your still fast breathing. You always shut your thighs and move them into a criss-cross position, stifling a gasp at the ache in and around your pussy. Grayson licks his lips and subtly wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist just as Ethan stands and looks at you both.

“No more making out!” He points at you both.

You and Grayson look at each other, both of you hiding a smirk before looking at Ethan. When you both nod in agreement, watching as he leaves to the bathroom, you lean over to whisper in Grayson’s ear, “Can I suck your dick?”

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 9

Summary: You get your ass handed to you. You have fun times with Wanda only for a rude awakening.

Warnings: a lot of cursing, alcohol

If anyone asks her, Laura loves her cousin. She loves you. She really, really does. But sometimes you were a bit of a pain or rather a handful and everyone knows pregnant women should not be carrying too much. So, she can’t help but be glad that there are other people here to help lighten the load. 

Is it wrong that lightening the load includes allowing her husband’s ex-assassin of a best friend to basically manhandle you, said cousin she claims to love so much, at 6am in the morning? It may be a little worrisome, yes. But what is really wrong here is how she is sitting front and center, watching it all happen in front of her a little too amusedly.

Could you really blame her though? She’s pregnant. She knows she wouldn’t be able to stand watching you get thrown around, especially on her swollen feet.

It seems everyone woke up early to watch Nat “teach you self-defense”. You’ve been outside for an hour now and no one has moved from their seats. Oh, no that’s a lie. Clint did go inside once, only for him to come right back offering everyone some lemonade. Even the critters are there sitting criss cross next to Pietro on the grass sipping on their lemonades. 

“So when does the self-defense part start?” you ask, out of breath. You weren’t doing anything, but falling on your ass repeatedly sure makes one sweat.

“When you start defending yourself,” Nat quips. You respond with a baffled, “What?!”

“Arms up, Y/N!” you hear your cousin shout as you prepare yourself to get thrown again.

“Look, if you are still mad about the Yelena Incident, I’m sure there could have been another less violent way to get your frustrations out.” Nat rolls her eyes and in what feels like a second, there are legs wrapped around your head in not a sexy way and you are flipped onto the ground. 

“OH!!!” Everyone yells, as you feel the wind knock out of you. You hear the kids shouting, “Do it again!”

“No, don’t do it again,” you wheeze out. You feel someone rush to your side. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda helps you sit up. An angel, that woman. She turns to glare at Nat. “Did you really have to do that?”

“Relax, she’s fine.” Nat answers, not bothered in any way. Either she’s blind or she’s delusional thinking you took her go-to take-down-the-bad-guy move like a simple scratch on the knee. Wanda gets visibly upset by Nat’s careless demeanor, little wisps of red magic trickling from her hand. She moves to confront Natasha and you think it might be you that is delusional when you stop Wanda, red wisps tickling your hand, and say, “It’s okay. I’m good.”

“See!” Nat throws her hands up.

“You should have put your arms up,” your cousin says off to the side. You narrow your eyes at her after Wanda helps you up. “Yes, Laura. Thank you so much. That would have really saved me from her spinny-upsidedown-flippity-whateverthefuck that was.”

Sam and Clint snicker beside your cousin at your description of Nat’s signature move. She gives you the watch-your-language look that you completely ignore. “Why don’t you come and show me how that was meant to help?”

“Can’t. Pregnant. Sorry,” your cousin motions to her belly. You shake your head, “Excuses, excuses.”

“I do know some self-defense though and I think it is really important to learn so I’m rooting for you on the side lines,” Laura adds. Not believing a word she said, you ask, “And who taught you self-defense? ‘Cause I know for a fact it wasn’t Nat. You wouldn’t be cruel enough to put me through the same torture.”

“I taught her. She’s a pretty decent shot too,” Clint admits proudly. 

“No way. You can shoot?” Sam looks at Laura as skeptical as you do. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Hun, bring out your gear,” your cousin says, getting everyone excited. Pietro and Sam help her stand and move over to get a clear shot of where Clint put up a target. Everyone stands aside and watches in anticipation when Clint hands his wife a bow and an arrow. She nocks the arrow back, aims, shoots, and nearly hits the bullseye, leaving everyone’s mouth agape. 

“Okay, impressive,” Sam says.

“No way. You made that look way too easy. Let me try,” you say, wanting to give it a go, and a go you give alright, the arrow ricocheting off a tree (not even the tree that had the target on it) and heading towards Peter’s face. Luckily his reflexes or what he’s described as some kind of tingle kicks in and he catches the arrow on time. 

You let out a sigh of relief seeing that you have not accidentally killed someone. You didn’t want to be a murderer let alone be known as the asshole that killed Spiderman by accident. You flood Peter’s ears with apologies and though he says it’s all good, you still feel really bad and ask Wanda if she could help you bake him some cookies or something later. 

Everyone heads inside after that near death experience. Everyone but you and Nat who says, “Playtime’s over. Let’s do this for real now.”

“Wait, that wasn’t it?!”

Another two hours go by. Wanda wonders why you haven’t barged in the room yet to “bother” her. You should have been done undergoing Nat’s painful lesson by now. Finding it odd that you have yet to make an appearance, Wanda sets out to find you. She sees Natasha sitting at the kitchen table. When she asks her about your whereabouts and gets a “Who knows” as a response, she knows something is up. Nat always knows, so Wanda presses, “What did she say and where did you leave her?”

Natasha eventually tells her where you are. Wanda finds you outside, hosing yourself off. You are covered in mud, which Wanda can only assume was Nat’s doing. “Why did you have to antagonize her?”

You look up to see Wanda staring at you unimpressed, arms crossed and all. You defend, “You have to admit, had you the opportunity, you would have done the same.”

“You mean tell her you’ve now had two Romanov’s thighs around your head and then ask where her mom was because you wanted to ‘complete the set’,” Wanda says, uncrossing her arms to do air quotes. 

“Come on, let me have this, Wanda. You should have seen it! It was glorious. The set up, the delivery, the punch,” you throw your arms in the air dramatically, hose in hand splashing water everywhere. Your body aches and you yelp, “Ow.”

Wanda only shakes her head at you. You pout and turn the hose off. “I’ve never met her mom, but she probably would’ve at least chuckled appreciating a good line. I know Yelena for sure would’ve tried not to giggle before kicking my ass as well.”

Wanda doesn’t mean to let out the grunt of annoyance at the mention of this Yelena, but it happens. Luckily, you either don’t hear it or ignore it as you pass by her, stopping to take off your shoes by the door. Before heading inside, you turn to her and coyly ask, “Do you think you could help me wash some of the mud away upstairs? I don’t think I can reach some parts on my own.”

It doesn’t take a psychic to know Wanda helping you scrub your back is not what you actually have in mind. She tries her best not to stutter as she says, “Of course, what are friends for?”

You head up to the shower first. Wanda waits downstairs two minutes before following up, thinking it was enough time for it not to seem suspicious. Clint, who is in the laundry room, though back turned the whole time, still notices and pipes up right as Wanda takes the first step up. 

“Just keep in mind the acoustics of the bathroom,” he warns Wanda. Though he doesn’t see her, based on the clumsy rushed steps after, he knows she was blushing the whole way upstairs.

Having Wanda in the shower, double entendre intended, proves to be a good thing because it turns out you do in fact need help scrubbing some of the mud that somehow made it down your back. Wanda gets on your case again about agitating Nat but it’s hard to really focus on what she’s saying when her hands are all over you, even if she is just scrubbing you down.

An hour later, Laura and Nat sit at the kitchen table and try not to laugh at you struggling with the measuring cups. Sam holds no reservations in laughing in your face. “How does a grown ass woman not know how to measure some flour?”

Wanda makes a face and he corrects himself, “I hear how that sounded. Let me rephrase. How does a grown ass adult who has had to pass middle school to get into college not know how to measure some flour?”

“Unnecessary jibe at my education aside, Sam, I appreciate you rephrasing that. Back to the matter at hand, I’d like to see you try, bitch,” you challenge him, handing over all the measuring kitchen equipment. 

“Gladly.” He takes your place, leaving you to go stand beside Wanda. “Let me show you how it’s done.” 

You all watch him as he looks over the recipe. You think he is just bluffing about his skills, making a grand show of it all. That is until he turns back to Wanda to ask, “Two batches, right?” Then at her nod, he goes into British Bake Off mode or whatever you would call x game mode for baking. 

Seeing him confidently measuring ingredient after ingredient, you lean over to Wanda and ask under your breath, “Is he doing it right?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Damn it,” you huff out. Sam overhears and chuckles, his ego inflating by the minute. You pout at Sam having taken over what was meant to be a fun activity for you and Wanda to do, but he seems like he is really enjoying showing off so you can’t be too mad. Wanda finds your pout too cute and can’t help but press a quick kiss to your lips, surprising you both. You are both blushing and she tries to play it off cool. “You did say whenever I wanted.”

“I did say that, yes,” you recall. She smiles and then gives you another chaste kiss, more confidently this time, before heading over to Sam. “Alright, leave Y/N to do something, show off.”

Meanwhile, you are trying to calm your racing heart at her kissing you so openly, which is when you realize you have an audience. You’re afraid to see if Laura and Nat saw. You turn around slowly. They clearly did, your cousin’s raised eyebrow indicating so. It makes you blush harder, so you turn back around and go to see what you can do.

Wanda and Sam give you the job of rolling the cookie dough into little balls after moving you away from setting the oven heat because you tried to turn up the heat by double in order to “bake the cookies faster”. They explain why you couldn’t do that.

“Yeah, I knew that,” you say, as you lower the temperature back down. “I was just testing you guys.”

No one believes you but they don’t say anything. Nat and your cousin watch with interest as Wanda and Sam pull your hand full of raw dough away from your mouth when you try to taste it. You lie and say you were testing them again. 

Peter and Pietro trail into the kitchen at the smell of the cookies baking. Sam takes them out once they are ready. Pietro tries to grab a cookie first, but you are faster, smacking his hand away. “Peter gets the first cookie. They were meant to be for him.”

Peter, who has been lingering shyly behind Pietro, perks up. He asks you, “Why?”

“For nearly killing you. Sorry about that. Sam technically did nearly everything, which might have been for the best given my lack of skills in the kitchen. But it’s the thought, right?” you ramble.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you. I won’t say no to cookies. They all look good. Let’s just all dig in,” Peter says, seeing Pietro’s grumbly face. Pietro cheers up at that and mutters, “Finally.”

Laura sees you and the guys reaching for a cookie and warns, “Careful, they’re hot,” but the cookies are already in your mouths. 

“Fuck!” “Shit!” “H-h-hot!” All three of you yell but none of you spit the cookies out. Instead, you all choose to look ridiculous cooling the cookies with your mouths open. Sam looks at you three like the dumbasses you are. Your cousin and Nat look unfazed and Wanda is practically doubled over laughing so hard that you can’t even hear it because she’s having trouble breathing. 

“Get out of my kitchen. Come back when you have proof y’all graduated elementary school.” Sam kicks you out of the kitchen, Pietro grabbing some cookies before being shooed away. You head outside and decide to play some basketball. Cooper and Lila come and join you and a few minutes later so does Wanda. 

You pause, holding the ball in your hands as Wanda walks up to you. 

“What? Did you finish your two pages of reading for the day that quickly or did you just miss me?” you tease her. She gives you a sarcastic smile before snatching the ball away. “Two chapters actually.” She then goes to line up her shot. She shoots and scores, turning back to you with a smug smile at which you shake your head.

“Hey, you can’t walk with the ball. That doesn’t count!” Pietro whines. You fight for her point, telling him to just let her have it, which he does not let go without pointing out, “Oh, so when I do it, it’s not a point, but when Lila and Wanda do it, it counts? How is that fair?”

“Because she’s six and she’s cute, Pietro. That’s why it counts,” you reply.

“Okay, but what about my sister?”

“I just explained. Lila is six and Wanda is cute. Come on, man. Keep up.” Wanda overhears and blushes hard. Pietro laughs at his sister, embarrassing her further. You take the ball away from his hands while he is distracted and then pass it to Lila. 

You do way better this game than the last time you played. You still lost but progress. 

The next morning feels like a rinse and repeat. Nat wakes you up, you go for the morning hike, you complain the whole time. Breakfast is a different story. Laura’s lower back has been aching and she’s been having contractions, one of which comes while you’re eating, scaring most of you. You get straight to your feet asking where the baby bag is and Pietro rushes to find the keys saying, “I’ll start the car!” 

Peter pipes, “I think someone else should drive.” 

“Everyone calm down. I don’t need to go anywhere. The baby’s not coming yet,” your cousin reassures everyone, specifically her husband and Nat who are at her side. Everyone lets out a breath of relief. You ask where the baby bag is anyway to know when the time does come. She says there isn’t one and then Nat is on Clint and your heads about not being prepared.

“I got here after you did,” you defend yourself. She then looks over to Clint who says, “I’ve been saving the world.”

“Always an excuse with you two,” Nat chides. 

And so the afternoon finds Clint, Sam, and Nat going to buy the essentials, while the rest of you help clean up around the house. Wanda is left to supervise Lila and Cooper clean their rooms, Peter is in charge of vacuuming upstairs, Pietro is given dish washing duty, and you are given the broom and mop. 

Your cousin relaxes on the couch in the meantime. You yell up the stairs that you will be mopping now, warning everyone to watch their step. You repeat the same to your cousin who sarcastically says, “I think the whole town heard you, Y/N.”

“Well, excuse me for caring for everyone’s well being,” you retort, continuing your chores. You’re nearly finished. You just need Pietro to be done in the kitchen so you can mop there. You sit and wait in Clint and Laura’s little home office. 

You swivel around in the chair, looking around curiously until something calls your attention, that something being the laminator. You try to think of something fun to laminate but think of nothing interesting. Then you remember something and rush upstairs to get it.

You pass Peter who asks if he can go downstairs now having finished vacuuming. You say yes but tell him not to go into the kitchen yet. You grab what you are looking for in your bag and head back downstairs to laminate it. Before you do, you write a message on the back. 

Dear Scarlet Wizard, please stop hurting the books. Thank you. Y/N :)

Then you laminate the strip. You look over your finished product proudly before tucking it into your back pocket. You’re about to head out of the office when Pietro’s voice crescendos, heeding you of his presence before he appears. “Just ask her, Wanda. She’s seen you in them. I don’t know why you are embarrassed.”

That piques your interest. Pietro finally appears, with Wanda lingering behind him, looking like she’d much rather be anywhere else. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Pietro looks back at Wanda expectantly, but when she doesn’t say anything, he explains for her. “She needs help washing her underpants.”

“Pietro!” Wanda shouts, her face giving a new meaning to her superhero name with how red it turns. She moves forward, spluttering, “I asked Laura if I could wash some of my clothes. She said yes, but I don’t know how to work this machine and I didn’t want to make her get up to show me, and Pietro told me to ask you, so…” 

She trails off shyly, wanting to bury herself in the nearest ditch right after she murders her brother for putting her in this position. Wanda hadn’t prepared to stay so long and hadn’t brought extra clothes. Now she regrets not being like Peter who overprepares. She wonders how her brother hasn’t run out of clean underwear but she thinks it’s better not to ask, predicting she won’t like whatever the answer is; Pietro is not someone who is over prepared either.

“That’s it?” you ask, not seeing what the big deal was, but you can see that Wanda is still looking rather awkward about it, so you don’t question it too much. Rather you comment, “I was actually wondering if you all just overpack for breaks. I mean I know Nat has extra clothes here in the house but I was wondering about the rest of you.”

“Peter is the only one who does the most,” Pietro says.

“Hey, I heard that!” Peter yells coming in to join the three of you. You turn to Pietro and ask, “Then what do you do?”

“He used the same underwear after he showered,” Peter explains. You and Wanda make a face of disgust and Pietro makes one of irritation. Peter runs off upstairs when Pietro starts chasing him, “Don’t tell her that!”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you tell Wanda, who agrees with you. Then you motion for her to follow you into the little laundry room. You show her how to work the machine. She throws her clothes in and follows your instructions. Once the machine gets going, you decide to tease her now that you are alone. “It’s just underwear, Wanda. Pietro was right. No need to be shy about it when I’ve seen it both on and off you.”

She starts blushing again. She hides behind her hands and groans, “Ugh, I should have asked Laura.”

You continue on anyway, “In fact, I remember one instance where you were enjoying when I tugged them o-” You were cut off short by Wanda’s hands covering your mouth. “Stop talking.”

Your laughter is muffled but it’s there nonetheless, finding Wanda’s coyness endearing. She defends herself, recalling a story about you, “You are one to talk, Miss Purple Boxer-Briefs.”

You grab hold of her wrists, removing her hands from your mouth in order to speak. “Hey, that’s different.” You walk forwards, making Wanda take steps back until her back is against the wall. “I was not planning for anyone to see me in those. I was just taking one for the team, thinking the house was getting robbed.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Wanda giggles.This time it’s you saying, “Oh, be quiet, Maximoff.”

“Make me, L/N.”

You sputter in surprise, eyes widening at her words. Hers stare right into yours, challenging you to make a move. And she has the audacity to have a smirk on her face as if she wasn’t madly blushing about dirty underwear a few minutes ago. Where the hell did that girl go?

“Are you just going to stand there and look at me a-”

You surge forward and kiss her hard. Wanda can’t help but smile at getting her way, making it a little hard to kiss her. So you take the moment to break it and ask, “Hey, who told you my last name?”

“The same asshole that gave you this.” One of her hands between you moves up to caress your bruised cheek. “Does it still hurt?”

She prods at it, making you flinch back. “Ow, only when you poke at it.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes, pulling her hand away from your cheek. Her bashful face makes you chuckle. You pull yourself together to ask her a question. “Okay, serious question,” you start, and it’s too cute how Wanda pays close attention to what you say next. You’d think she’d know better by now. “Does it make me look badass?”

“Y/N,” she more or less groans your name in annoyance as she gently shoves you. You’re a little off balance but you quickly grasp her elbows to pull back into her space. “I’m serious. ‘Cause if I look stupid, I’m pretty sure I could will my cells to work overtime to heal it faster or something.”

She laughs at you, muttering, “You are an idiot,” and pecking your lips between each word. You hear giggling, only this laughter isn’t coming from the beautiful woman in front of you. No, this giggling you know too well comes from a certain little critter who you now see has potential to go into her father’s line of work with how quiet she can creep up on someone. 

Wanda actually shoves you off this time, going to stand behind you to put a physical barrier between her and the intruding child. You clear your throat, smiling at Lila. “Hey, Lila. Did you need something?”

“Why were you kissing Wanda? Is she your girlfriend? Are you going to have a baby now?” She shoots one question after question rapidly as if she didn’t ask them all at once she would forget them. The first two are valid questions but the last throws you off so far you don’t know where you are. It throws Wanda too, so much so she’s basically choking behind you.

“Woah, okay. Umm, I was kissing Wanda because I think she is very pretty and nice and that’s just a way you can show someone that you think that about them, with their permission of course,” you rush in to add about consent. Your niece and nephews will grow up learning to be a decent human being. You continue on to her other questions. “But no, Wanda is not my girlfriend and we are not having a baby?”

Your last answer comes out more as a question, mostly due to your confusion as to where she got that idea. Wanda comes out from her hiding space to stand by you. From your peripheral vision, she looks amused at seeing you struggle to answer the six year old’s questions. Looking at your niece, she seems to be as confused as you, but you learn it’s due to something else. “Why isn’t she your girlfriend? Did you ask her?” 

You hesitate to answer, really not knowing where to start. Wanda is less amused and more interested now, crossing her arms over her chest, creating a barrier between her heart and your next words that she thinks will inevitably hurt to hear. Lila doesn’t give you the chance, however, continuing to her next question that makes you scoff. “Does she think you’re ugly?”

“I’d hope not.” You turn to look at Wanda, who holds a hand over her mouth trying to cover her giggles.

“Oh, maybe she doesn’t think you’re funny, like Aunt Nat says. Maybe she doesn’t get your jokes.” Lila tries to help, but little to her knowledge, it just makes you want to dig your own grave, especially when you can see Wanda is nearly losing it trying to hold in her laughter.

“Yep, you know you might be right. That must be it,” you agree to appease her. She grins at you, proud of herself for finding an answer to her question, which reminds you, “Why did you think we were having a baby?”

“Because that’s how babies are made,” she says, without a doubt in her mind, which reasonably has you questioning, “Who told you that, critter? Because they definitely lied.”

“Mommy said so,” she says almost defiantly as if what her mom says must be the truth and who were you to make her start questioning her mother now at six years old. You are also not ready to have that conversation, the conversation between you and your cousin where she yells at you for taking over the birds and bees speech that she probably had meticulously planned for a specific time in her children’s lives.

“Aaaand, your mom’s right. Yep. Wanda is basically pregnant now,” you say without thinking. Lila’s eyes go full moon round in excitement as squeals in glee. She practically runs out of the laundry room probably to tell god knows who about the news. Wanda gasps in disbelief beside you, smacking your arm. “Why did you say that?”

“Well, what did you want me to do? Be honest with the child?” you say as if honesty would be the worst thing to bring into that conversation.

“Yes, exactly that,” Wanda says plainly.

“Okay, well unless you want to deal with Nat on your ass about us unnecessarily stressing my pregnant cousin out with talks about baby making with her six year old, for the next however long Lila remembers, you are pregnant with my child.”

Wanda hangs her head in defeat after you put that image of an angry Nat in her head. There are worse things than being fake pregnant with your crush’s baby. She sighs, “You’re paying child support for this kid.”

You smile at her quip, retaliating with, “Not without a paternity test!” She shoves you as you both exit the laundry room and you chant, “Maury! Maury!”

“We are not naming the baby Maury,” she says and runs into you when you stop abruptly to turn around and question her, “Wanda, do you not know who Maury is?” 

When she shakes her head no in confusion, you grab her hand in excitement, “Oh, my god, let me teach you a little bit about American culture,” and drag her with you to watch some episodes of the show.

You only get to watch one with her, leaving her with your cousin to watch more as you go back into the kitchen to finish moping as your cousin so kindly (not so kindly) reminded you to do. Those baby hormones really were kicking in. 

You return to see Pietro and Wanda eating up the show. “I knew it! I knew he would be the father,” Pietro yells excitedly from where he is on the floor looking back at his sister. “Did I not guess right?” She nods and he turns back to the television to watch the guy run off the stage as the cameraman chases after him.

Laura can’t stop yawning so you suggest she go take a nap. You help her up to her room and tell her to rest up, that you had everything under control. She teases as you shut the door, “Just don’t go around impregnating more women while I’m asleep.” 

When you go back downstairs, Sam, Nat, and Clint are making their way through the front door with everything they bought. Sam and Clint set the box with the crib assembly in the middle of the living room. Nat carries some bags and says there are more bags in the car. You head outside throwing an “amateur” towards Nat who rolls her eyes knowing you are referring to your silly one trip from the car to the house rule. 

The rest of the evening goes to arranging the hospital bag and getting all the baby things in order. Nat and Wanda assemble the crib, Nat insisting she do it after Pietro rushes to assemble it with a “tada!” only for it to fall apart when Nat throws a pillow onto it. Wanda is just excited to do it and Nat trusts her to follow instructions unlike her brother. 

Everyone just watches, but Lila who tries to help handing the women whatever they need. As most excited six year olds do, she talks everyone’s ears off about the things she is going to do when her baby brother comes. “Oh! And he can have playdates with Y/N and Wanda’s baby. We can have tea parties every summer. Maybe not tea, cause tea isn’t very tasty and it’s too hot for that. Maybe we can have ice tea instead. What do you think, Wanda?”

Everyone in the room looks confused; most of the confused gazes are looking to you for an explanation and before anyone could say anything, you mouth “Don’t ask” while shaking your head. Wanda indulges Lila, though she blushes through it trying to look unfazed, “Yes, ice tea is nice. Or maybe lemonade. Can you pass me that small piece over there?”

It comes out perfectly, much to Pietro’s chagrin. Now the problem no one thought about- how to get it upstairs into the room. Sam and Clint carry it up the stairs trying to follow Nat’s instructions, attempting to turn it at the right angle to get it up the second flight of stairs. They clearly do not understand what Nat’s aim is here, Nat’s frustration growing by the second. Wanda gets a sense of deja vu but she can’t recall where she has seen this, until you laugh and as if reading her mind fill in the blank yelling, “Pivot!”

Satisfied with figuring out where the scene is from and not wanting to see Nat explode, Wanda uses her magic to take hold of the crib and brings Nat’s vision to life as she rotates the crib at the correct angle. The red mist lifts it the rest of the way upstairs.

“Thank you, Wanda. It seems you’re the only competent person here,” Nat huffs. She turns to the two men on the stairs, “Well, don’t just stand there, expecting Maximoff to do everything. The crib goes in the room with Laura.”

She storms up the steps shepherding Clint and Sam the rest of the way. You hear the laundry machine beeping, so you go give that your attention with Wanda on your tail. After her clothes begin to spin in the dryer, you stop her from getting any further than the kitchen remembering to give her your beautiful creation.

“Wait, Wanda, before I forget. I have something for you.” You pull the photo strip turned bookmark out of your pocket and hand it to her. She takes her time looking over the pictures on the strip from the time at the arcade, especially the third in which you are kissing her cheek. You gesture for her to look at the back and she rolls her eyes upon reading your message. Wanda appreciates the gesture anyways.

“You made me this?” Wanda asks, surprised. 

You nod, “Made or more so laminated it for you. Or rather for future me who will be happy to know she saved another book from you dog earring the ends of its pages.” 

You chuckle when she pushes you in jest. “Hey! That is a lot of judgement coming from someone who does not read.”

“I don’t have to be an avid book reader to know book etiquette,” you declared. 

“Book etiquette?” She raises an eyebrow up in question.

“Yes, there are rules to how you treat books, same as there are rules to everything,” you answered. “Like returning a borrowed book in the same condition.”

“And one of the rules happens to be not to bend the corner of the pages?” she asks, disbelieving.

“Hey, I’m just trying to do you a favor here. Wouldn’t want you to get bullied in book club or whatever. But if you are just going to disregard the rule and not use the bookmark,” you reply, reaching for the bookmark, “I can just take it back.”

“No,” she objects immediately, pressing the photostrip against her chest. She pouts, “You already gave it to me. You can’t take it back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you assured her, laughing at her childish antics. Wanda looks at it once more, smiling, and then gives you a kiss on the cheek. With rosy cheeks adorning her face, she thanks you. “I love it, really.”

Red really is the color for her, you think. That is until you find green giving red a run for its money the next evening.

Sam drove you, Wanda, and Pietro to one of the two bars in town in Nat’s car. It took about half an hour of begging from Sam’s part for Nat to give up her keys, but not without threatening his life if he were to even scratch her car. You couldn’t blame her, it’s a pretty nice car. 

You and the three Avengers walk into the bar. It sounds like the start to a joke and it almost feels like it could be with the way the night starts. It’s a Friday night so there is a crowd but it’s not too bad. You’re still standing around the front entrance and you wonder why no one has made the move to go further into the establishment. Turning to the other three, you notice their eyes sweeping the place. You quickly realize what they are doing. 

“Would you all relax? We are here to have fun. No need to act like you’re on a mission,” you remind them. Sam scoffs, “Uh, speak for yourself. This man is on the hunt for some sugar.” The rest of you three roll your eyes at him as he keeps scouting the area. His eyes befall on the pretty bartender. “And spotted. First round is on me.”

Sam walks up to the bar with swagger to his step. The three of you look for a place to sit. Pietro notices a booth open up and using a little enhanced speed, swoops into the booth, calling you and Wanda over. You talk amongst yourselves while Sam chats up the bartender. He comes over with the drinks smiling to himself. Wanda teases him, “Look at you all smiley. Did you get her phone number?”

“I’m still working on it, but I know it’s working,” he says confidently. “So hurry up and finish your drinks so I can go up and talk some more.”

He rushes you and chugs his drink in one go. You hate to be his buzzkill but someone has to remind him, “I hope you enjoyed that drink, Sam ‘cause that was your one and only for tonight. Or did you forget you drove us here?”

His face scrunches up and groans, “Noooo. Can’t Pietro drive? His metabolism works fast. It’s nearly impossible to get him drunk.”

“Did you forget what car we brought? The moves Nat pulled on me hurt like a bitch, and that was just her teaching me self defense. I can’t imagine what she would do if she finds out we let Speed Racer drive back.” You quickly turn to said twin, “No offense, Pietro.”

“You are all just a bunch of babies,” he responds, sipping from his drink. 

“Ugh, fine,” Sam concedes. “Maybe, I can work with this. I’ll be back. Same thing for everyone?”

After getting an affirmative, Sam is back at it. The three of you watch him flirt with the woman behind the bar. Sam points your group out to her and she smiles at you three while your group acknowledges her with awkward waves. 

A car alarm pulls everyone’s attention away; it’s Nat’s car. The three of you see Sam make a show of looking for the keys in his pockets when it’s clear to the group that he’s been holding them the entire time. That smooth bastard. The woman looks impressed.

Soon she serves up your drinks, Sam bringing them to the table, with a cocky smirk on his face. You, Pietro, and Wanda shake your heads at him his whole way back. “We see what you did there,” Wanda says. “That was very sneaky.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sam denies. He takes a sip of his water as the rest of you grab your second drink. Pietro asks, “Very sad, using someone else’s things to boast. Tsk tsk tsk.”

“Keep it down. She doesn’t have to know that. Anyway, that car is a guarantee she’ll be looking this way,” Sam assures and he isn’t wrong. Wanda finds the bartender looking back at your group but much to her discontentment, she is zeroing in not on Sam but you. You don’t notice this happening. 

You are too focused telling some funny story Wanda isn’t really listening to, as she finishes her drink in one go. Pietro catches this from the corner of his eye, frowning at what has his sister looking upset. Ever so observant, he watches Wanda look at the bartender who seems to be staring at you and then shuffle closer to your side. 

His frown disappears, no longer worried but more so amused. He has always found it funny when his sister gets jealous. He’s seen it several times to know the signs- the furrow of her brow, the biting of her lip, and had it been a few years ago, there would be a dramatic exit. A dramatic exit would be overkill here so he guesses she’s substituted it for possessiveness. 

You welcome Wanda’s warmth as she sits closer to you. Sam and Pietro make their comments and jokes about the story you just finished telling. You sip on your drink, nearly choking when Wanda’s hand makes a surprise appearance on your thigh a little too high to be innocent. You try to ignore it and listen to Sam as he starts a story, but it gets a little difficult when she begins to move it. 

Sam asks you a question and as focused as you are when trying to answer, Wanda’s wandering hand makes you stutter a few times in your response. You chug the rest of your drink and Wanda takes that as a sign to get the next round of drinks.

“I’ve got the drinks this time,” she declares, pressing a kiss on your cheek before getting up and heading over to the bar. The little break you have away from her feels a bit of a relief. You were getting worked up under her touch and in public no less. You don’t know what’s got Wanda in this kind of mood suddenly, not that you would usually mind it unless it’s the alcohol. 

That’s the only real outlier here. If it is the alcohol, you’ll have to slow her roll down if only two drinks have her so handsy. You have to come up with a plan soon if that’s the case, because Wanda comes back, bartender behind her carrying a tray with shots.

Wanda takes her seat next to you as Sam’s point of interest for the night sets the shots in the middle of the table. Your eyes widen, counting the number of shots that end up on the table. 

“Damn, how much do they pay you?” you ask incredulously, knowing how pricey a single shot can be.

“And are they hiring?” the bartender jokes. Everyone but Wanda laughs. “Are we celebrating something tonight or just having a night out?” She asks the table but ends the question looking at you for the answer.

“A little bit of both. They’re going home soon, so,” you explain. You have all her attention now, her body turning to face you. “Oh, so you’re from here. I haven’t seen you around?”

Wanda slowly grows irritated, feeling the woman talking is overstaying her welcome at your table. She reaches for a shot, throwing it back, trying not to make a face as the liquid burns her throat. 

You frown at Wanda’s actions. Pietro snorts and Wanda throws him a glare. The bartender is still waiting for your response so you answer, “I don’t actually live here. I stay with my cousin during my breaks from school.” 

“What school do you go to?”

Wanda clears her throat, annoyed, “Don’t you have to go back to the bar? We wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Sam speaks up, “There are two other people back there. I’m sure they’ve got Bethany covered.” So that’s the name of the woman unknowingly grinding Wanda’s gears. Wanda is disappointed to see Sam is correct. 

She drinks another shot and the moment Pietro has been waiting for arrives when she gets up suddenly claiming she has to go to the restroom. Bethany tries to help and point them out to her, but Wanda quickly cuts in with, “Thank you, Bethany, but I think I can find my way to the restroom just fine.” And then she stomps off. 

Finding her behavior odd, you decide it best to go follow her and make sure she’s okay. After answering Bethany’s last question, you excuse yourself from the table and head in the direction Wanda left. The restrooms are easy to find, a glaringly obvious sign pointing to them. 

Wanda splashes water on her face at the sink, trying to cool herself down. She can’t help the thoughts running through her head, thinking that Bethany was probably sitting in Wanda’s place by your side, grabbing your arm as she laughs at something you say. She knows these thoughts stem from jealousy and there is no need to tell her that she doesn’t have the right to be jealous when you agreed to be friends.

If Wanda wasn’t irked enough, there are no paper towels to dry her face with. Now she’ll return to the table with a wet shirt. “Stupid bar can’t refill the dispenser,” she mutters, pushing the door open with the side of her body, her hands preoccupied lifting the bottom of her shirt enough to pat her face dry with it. 

She bumps into somebody outside the restroom doors. She lifts her face from her hands to apologize only to be met by the person who has got her acting this moody and you aren’t looking at her face. Your eyes are busy appreciating Wanda’s exposed tummy. Wanda flushes as she drops her shirt, making you redirect your eyes. Embarrassed at being caught, you clear your throat. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I actually came to check on you.”

“Why? I was only gone for 2 minutes,” she asked, though she was happy to note that you were here waiting for her outside the restroom instead of entertaining the bartender sitting at your group’s table.

“You left kind of abruptly. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and not like throwing up,” you reason. You pull Wanda away from standing in front of the door to the restroom when someone tries to get through.

Wanda chuckles, continuing on with your conversation. “Do you think I am a lightweight or what?”

“Well I hope not. You did just buy a bunch of shots and it would be a damn shame to let them go to waste,” you remind her. She smirks at you. “You have some catching up to do.”

“Lead the way.” You step aside motioning for her to do just so. Wanda shakes her head, but smiles nevertheless, taking your hand and tugging you behind her. Wanda is happy not to see Bethany at your table but back behind the bar when you both take your previous seats. 

“There they are!” Pietro shouts excitedly, waving his hand in the air before smacking it back down on the table rather clumsily with an “Ah”. Tipsy Pietro was rather adorable. How did he get like this anyway? Looking back at the table, you find your answer.

“Holy shit, dude! Did you drink all of these yourself?” You’re worried he’d have to get his stomach pumped. He reads the expression on your face and reassures you. “It’s the only way I can get, umm, Wanda?” He turns to ask his sister something you don’t understand, asking in Sokovian. She answers, “Tipsy.”

“Yes! Tipsy. But I left you uh,” he counts the remaining shot cups that still have liquor in them, “four. Perfect. Two for each of you. Now hurry, I want to play billbards, bill-billboards. Pool,” he finally decides. He pushes two shots towards you and the other two towards Wanda.

“Oh, no. Y/N has to catch up.” Wanda pushes one of her drinks to yours, lining them all up neatly. You shake your head at a smirking Wanda. You sigh, “You’re really going to do this to me, huh?”

“Yup,” she affirmed. Then Sam got the three of them to chant your name, making others in the bar look your group’s way. Not wanting people staring, you hush them, “Okay, okay. Geez. I can see why Clint hates that.” Then you drink all three, one right after another. You do make a face. “Oof.”

Wanda drinks hers and then the four of you wait by the pool tables for one to open up. You spend the next hour laughing with Sam and Wanda at a clumsy Pietro. You are just as bad as a tipsy Pietro when playing pool but tipsy Wanda doesn’t care, insisting you teach her how to properly line up her shot. Tipsy you isn’t remotely embarrassed when Wanda completely misses hitting the ball with your guidance because your body is busy feeling something other than shame having Wanda pressed against you as she is. 

Sober Sam is getting bored. Bethany is busy behind the bar doing her job, more patrons filling up the joint. A few minutes later, Pietro is practically sober; his coordination comes back and he doesn’t find playing pool as fun anymore. Also, he’s growing tired of watching his sister basically grind her ass on you every time it’s her turn. 

Pietro ends the game five minutes later. “I’m tired. Let’s let some other people play.” He doesn’t give you a chance to reject the idea, handing his pool stick over to someone else saying his group can have the table. He and Sam head to the restroom but not before telling you two to be ready to go.

There is a pout on Wanda’s face that you find just too cute and you let her know so. “You are so adorable,” you tease, pinching her cheeks. Wanda sends you a glare that looks in no way threatening with her cheeks aflame, making you laugh. “I’ll get us some water. Wait here for Pietro and Sam.”

You head over to the bar counter. You grab Bethany’s attention and ask for some water. “So why was your girlfriend upset earlier?” She asks as she goes to fill up two cups for you.

“Huh?” you ask confused. She repeats herself leaning over the bar in order for you to hear her more clearly. “Your girlfriend,” she nods in Wanda’s direction. You turn to see Wanda watching you two closely. “She looked pissed off earlier.”

Bethany hands over the two cups of water. You didn’t need to but you clarify anyway, albeit a little awkwardly. “Oh, um, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” The bartender smirks at you. You’re confused and tell her so. She rolls her eyes at you. There is no way you could be so oblivious. She does find it cute that you were so focused on your “not girlfriend” that you didn’t see the way she was interested in you. She takes pity on you and clarifies, “She was totally acting like a jealous girlfriend earlier.”

“No, she wasn’t,” you deny, the idea sounding totally absurd to you. But with the way Bethany sounded so sure, you can’t help but begin to question the possibility. “How do you know?”

“I see these things all the time. Reading body language becomes a skill when you work at a bar. Trust me.”

Bethany sees you still doubting her so she proposes something. “Here. I’ll prove it. Do you mind if I touch you?”

You look at her confused but give her permission anyway. She reaches over and runs her finger up and down your forearm. You watch her move and feel more so lost when she throws her head back in laughter. “Okay, what are you doing?”

“If she is jealous, like I say she is, she will do one of two things. She will either come up here and act all possessive or she’ll storm off like she did earlier to the restroom.”

“I don’t know,” you say, unsurely, already pulling your arm away. You are not one to want to play emotional games. Before you have a chance to tell Bethany that, she says, “I should have put some money on it.”

You feel an arm slide around your waist. Wanda comes up beside you and pulls you into her. You are a little startled to be honest, especially when she kisses your underjaw making sure to give Bethany a good view. Wanda catches Bethany giving you a cocky smirk and it irks her. 

“Piet and Sam are waiting for us,” she reminds you. You don’t say anything, your mind still trying to process that Bethany is right and Wanda might just be jealous. Bethany sees the realization glaze over your eyes and rolls with it, pushing Wanda’s buttons. “Oh, you’re leaving already? Well if you ever want more conversations like these,” she writes on a piece of paper behind the bar and hands it over to you folded, “here.” 

Wanda is nearly grinding her teeth at this point. The audacity of that woman to give you her number while Wanda is with you is amazing. Though Wanda knows she’s not with you- with you, clearly the woman would think Wanda was something to you given the way she is wrapped around you. And if that wasn’t enough to piss her off, the way you say “Um, okay?” before pocketing the piece of paper is. 

“You know what, we’ll just wait for you in the car,” Wanda huffs, pulling away from you and storming off to Pietro and Sam. You watch her go, ready to follow but Bethany calls your attention once more. “And there is number two. What are you standing here for? Go. She’ll only be more upset the longer you take.”

“Thanks?” You leave it at that, not knowing what else to say and make your way to the exit. Bethany watches you leave with a shake of her head, mumbling to herself, “She’s gonna eat her alive.”

You reach in your pocket to read the note the bartender gave you, opening the door with your back. Wanda, who is leaning against the hood of the car, watches in jealousy as you laugh at the contents of the note. 

Sam asks, “What are you smiling about?”

Wanda answers for you, tone dripping in discontent, “Getting the number you couldn’t get.” 

“What?! Let me see!” Sam rips the paper from your hand. Wanda rolls her eyes in annoyance and gets in the backseat, slamming the door closed. Her brother shakes his head in amusement, but follows sitting in the passenger seat instead. 

“Come on, let’s go,” you hurry Sam along. You go around the car to open the door opposite the one Wanda slammed and take a seat. Wanda is already not looking at you, instead looking out the window, which you find pointless because there is nothing to look at seeing as there is another car parked right next to her. She’s just getting the view of their window. 

“Wanda,” you say, trying to get her to look at you. “Wanda.” She still ignores you, so you press, “Are you really not going to talk to me?”

“I’m not in the mood. Why don’t you talk to Bethany? Seemed like you liked talking to her. Now you can call her,” Wanda responds, voicing Bethany’s name in an obnoxious way. You try not to snicker but Pietro doesn’t. Wanda kicks the back of his seat, getting in trouble with Sam as he enters the car to see just that. 

“Hey, knock it off! I don’t need Nat busting my ass for something I didn’t do,” he warns and points at Wanda, who huffs but leans back, crossing her arms in irritation. He continues, “Also, if you want me to laugh at your jokes, make them make sense.” 

He throws the paper to your lap. You read it once more and laugh to yourself. Sam is about to start the car but you stop him. “Wait! Before we go, Sam, can you do me a favor real quick,” you say as you pull out a five dollar bill. “Can you go give this to Bethany?”

“So is this like an inside joke or something?” Sam takes the money anyway and heads back to the bar. Pietro asks, “Can I see the paper?”

“Why? You want to have a shot with her too? Clearly she was interested in Y/N, Pietro,” Wanda mumbles. You hand over the paper to her brother while rolling your eyes at her behavior, trying not to smile. 

Pietro reads it and laughs louder than before. Wanda takes off her seatbelt and leans forward to snatch the paper from Pietro’s hands. “Okay, what is so funny? ‘Five bucks she says my name in a mean voice’.” Wanda’s voice trails off in the end out of embarrassment realizing that the note was about her. 

“Hell yeah! I told you I would and I did. I still have the moves.” Sam barges into the car excitedly. “Look what I got!” He waves around a piece of paper in front of Pietro’s face. 

“Her number? Nice,” Pietro says, pretty impressed.

“Yep. She said ‘Here, for if you’re ever back in town,’” Sam tries mimicking Bethany’s voice. Turning to you, he adds, “Oh and she also said to tell you she told you so, whatever that means.” 

“Wanda knows what it means,” Pietro jokes, making you chuckle and Wanda punch him in the arm.

“Alright, alright. Chill out and put your seatbelt on,” Sam tells Wanda. He turns on the car and begins the drive home. “It’s a good thing we’re leaving when we are. Another drink in you and we’d have to pull you out of a bar fight.”

Wanda does as she’s told without another word. In fact she stays silent for the whole ride back, not because she was annoyed like earlier. To say she’s embarrassed is an understatement. It’s one thing for her brother to tease her, throwing remarks he finds oh so humorous her way. She’s used to that from her twin. It’s another thing for you to match his energy, laughing at his jokes and having the same knowing smirk on your face. 

Of course Pietro would know when she’s jealous; they’re twins. Pietro acts the same exact way when he’s jealous. Wanda just wasn’t ready for someone else to pick up on it, especially not the person for why she felt the way she did. 

It is humiliating and that’s why she vows to deny, deny, deny if anyone brings it up, which of course you do because life hates Wanda and won’t let her have this one thing. 

You bring it up after you get home. Wanda tries to rush out the car but you hold her arm, signaling for her to stay in the car. You tell Sam and Pietro to go ahead inside without you, that you need to talk to Wanda in private. 

Sam jokingly “oohs” and rolls down the windows a bit before turning off the car. “This seems like a long talk. I wouldn’t want you ladies to suffocate under all the tension,” he quips. 

Wanda looks at her brother for help and he almost stays seeing the dread on her face, but then he thinks about how this could be new ammunition for teasing her later and makes his decision to go. “Sorry, Wands, but she said ‘in private’.”

“Since when do you respect privacy?” she challenged, ticked that her own blood would leave her to die of mortification for his own amusement. 

“It’s never too late to try new things,” he reasons. He follows Sam to the house, laughing because Wanda shouts out of the car window, “Try not being a traitor next time!”

Wanda’s attention finally turns to you when she hears you giggling. Wanda sits as far away from you as she can, her back practically against the car door. Your laughter dies down, but you still sport a wide smile on your face, irritating her to no end. She crosses her arms and tries to keep her composure.

“What did you want to say?” She feigns innocence, hoping the conversation will take a different route than the one she feels it’s going. However, much like life you won’t let her have this.

“You know, I guessed you could be the jealous type given you telling your brother to stop flirting with me and the other way around, but damn, that was something else,” you tease, finding satisfaction when Wanda’s cheeks burn red.

You let her splutter for a minute, but then take pity on her when you see she can’t find the words to defend herself. You scoot close enough to her that your knees are pressing against hers. “It’s okay, really. Usually, I would find jealousy unattractive but there is something about green on you that I like. It really brings out your eyes.”

Your hands move forward to push some of her hair away from her face as if to see her eyes clearer. Wanda finally finds her voice, scoffing, “I was not jealous,” but she allows you to keep your hands on her face.

“No, of course not,” you reply sarcastically, smirk taking permanent residence on your face. You pinch her cheek to annoy her. 

“Only insecure people get jealous,” Wanda huffs and pushes your hands away. 

“Everyone has their insecurities, Maximoff.”

“What do you have to be insecure about?” she asks like you would be the last person to have any insecurities. 

You lean your side onto the seat. “Plenty of things. Like, no one ever taking me seriously. I hide a lot behind jokes. Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m being serious or not and that makes it really hard to communicate with people.”

You look away from Wanda who begins to uncross her arms, the earlier tension on her body from self preservation dissipating with your confession. Instead, you focus on your hands, fingers tracing the stitched lines on the leather seats. 

You continue with a sigh, “Not to keep reliving the past, but it seems like it’s all I ever really do, I think maybe had I worked a little more on that, maybe Skye and I wouldn’t have ended like we did. Maybe had I shown I could be, I don’t know, more serious, someone you could not only have laugh with but someone you could confide in, have honest talks with, be a shoulder to cry on, then maybe she wouldn’t have seen me as a distraction and maybe we, I don’t know. I’m just rambling now.”

It gets quiet in the car. Wanda watches your hands continue to trace the lines on the seats. You look up at her when she clears her throat, ready to speak. “Vision broke up with me with the excuse that heroes are meant to be alone and I try but ever since he said that I can’t help but think he has a point.”

“Why do you think so?” you ask. Much like you finding something else to focus on, Wanda begins fidgeting with the rings on her fingers before replying, “It’s just that after we broke up, everyone left me alone. They were trying to give me my space, I guess but all it did was make me feel lonely.”

You reach out to stop her fidgeting with her rings which only half works. When you hold her hand, her other one comes to start playing with your fingers. “As embarrassing as it was to have you see me crying, I’m glad you stayed with me that first day,” Wanda whispers, almost like it’s a secret.

You smile and joke, “You were crying? I would have never known if you didn’t just tell me.” You succeed in making her laugh, as she tells you to shut up, but you continue teasing her. “Now the puffy eyes and runny nose make total sense.”

“Oh, god! Don’t remind me,” she pulls her hands away from yours to cover her face. She mumbles behind her palms, “I probably looked so gross.”

You chuckle at how wrong she is, remembering that day. You pull her hands away from her face and respond, “Quite the opposite. I was wondering how someone could look so pretty crying.”

Wanda narrows her eyes at you and accuses, “Liar.”

“Honest. Then I thought how inappor- inaporpiet,” you struggle to say inappropriate so you rephrase, “how it was wrong to think that while you were crying. Sorry, the alcohol is still in my system.”

You continue through Wanda’s giggling. “And it’s your fault I’m not more sober right now!”

“What? How is this my fault?” she questions, still smiling.

“We didn’t get to drink the waters Bethany so nicely served us because you got jealous and stormed out,” you recount, watching the smile drop from Wanda’s face and a frown replace it. 

“I was not jealous!” Wanda still denies, much to your amusement. She tries to pull away her hands but you keep a heavy grip on them.

“Incredible. We just had a whole ass conversation about insecurities and you still can’t admit you were jealous,” you laugh when she denies it again with a pout on her face that you attempt to kiss away, pulling her into you. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you mumble with a smile against her lips. She lets out an irritated sigh and leans back into you to finally do something about wiping that knowing smile off of your face. 

Wanda’s lips on yours, you both forget what either of you were trying to prove as you lose yourself to the feeling of having her pressed against you. You are both a mess, still slightly inebriated, but not so much that you don’t know what you are doing. You are well aware that you are in Nat’s car and she would kill you if she were to find out what you were doing in the backseat. 

You take the chance anyway thinking it would be worth it. Remnants of alcohol in your system and watching Wanda take her shirt off will do that. Hands are everywhere, stripping off clothes, so you don’t know who does it but the car horn sounds and makes you both stop in panic. 

“Shit,” you both whisper, out of breath. You turn to look at what could have caused the noise and see your shoe on the driver seat. One of you had thrown the shoe at the wheel. You both look towards the house. The lights were still off. You don’t think you woke anyone. At least, you hope you didn’t.

“Maybe no one heard?” You tell Wanda who looks at you with a ‘you can’t be serious’ look. There are five members of the most renowned team of heroes on the planet in that house. One, if not all, heard the horn.

Your phone chimes. Wanda gives you an ‘I told you so’ look as she pulls out your phone from your pants that are halfway down your thighs. Her heart stops in her chest as she sees the text is from Natasha. She shows you and you cover your face, not wanting to read whatever death threat is on there. 

“Read it for me. Maybe coming from you, I might not have a panic attack,” you beg. She opens the text and reads aloud, “ ‘I expect the car to smell of nothing but lemon scented disinfectant wipes tomorrow’ followed by two exclamation points and the red angry face emoji.”

You let out a sigh and remove your hands. “That doesn’t sound too bad. I don’t think she’s that mad.”

“Wait,” Wanda holds up a finger, reading off of your phone, “she’s typing.”

Your phone chimes incessantly. Wanda begins reading off, “Okay, girl with hand up emoji, ladder emoji, window emoji, person in bed emoji, oh, um.” Wanda’s eyes widen at what she now realizes is Nat threatening you through emoticons. “I am going to stop reading now so you can sleep tonight.”

You groan but take the phone to read through the little story Nat created. “Although I am fearing for my life, I have to give it to her. This is very creative and it sends shivers down my spine.”

You toss your phone onto the passenger seat. “If this is my last night, let’s end it right,” you say before dramatically sweeping Wanda in your arms and moving her to lie down as best as one can in the back seats of Nat’s car. She giggles as you nearly stumble to the floor due to your pants. 

“Stupid jeans,” you mutter, swiftly taking them off and moving on top of Wanda who is still giggling. You quickly shut her up. 

You wake up in the back seat of Nat’s car with Wanda in your arms. You feel three things at once: Wanda’s breath tickling your neck, the warmth of sunlight seeping through the car windows, and the beginnings of a headache. There is a loud screech that does nothing to help soothe the mild hangover. It wakes Wanda up as well. She voices her annoyance out loud, her morning voice husky. 

“Ugh, what is that? Y/N, make it stop,” she demands, burrowing further into you as if that will somehow make it stop. Coincidentally enough it does stop, but before you can relax, you hear voices arise. 

Wanda’s brows furrow and she tries to move away from you to see who could be coming to visit, but with the arm you have around her, you yank her back down into you.

“What are you doing?” you whisper yell.

She looks at you in confusion. “I’m seeing who it is.”

“Maybe that can wait once we’re fully clothed,” you suggest, pointing out the fact that all either of you have on are underwear and your shirts from last night. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, just stay still and hope they don’t peek in the car,” you command. The two of you stay quiet as the voices pass by. From the sounds of it, they come from two women.

“Oh, calm down! That landing was not that bad. It was way better than last time!” one of the women exclaims. Her voice sounds way too familiar, but you are too busy holding your breath in order to not get caught to actually try to place it. 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Daisy. Wait, who let you fly it before?” the second woman asks, the end of her sentence sounding far away hinting at them approaching the front door away from the car you and Wanda currently hide in. 

You hear knocking and then the front door opening. You think you hear Nat’s voice say something that sounds like “oh, fuck” but you aren’t too sure. You and Wanda only get up when you hear the front door close. 

You both hastily redress into yesterday’s clothes. Peeking out the window, Wanda notices a jet outside that definitely was not there last night and seeing as there are no other cars around, she can only assume it belongs to the two women which makes sense after hearing that one of them flew it. 

She sadly puts two and two together. These are the agents that would pick them up to take them back to the compound. You also pieced it together, “They’re here early.”

Wanda notices you sound a little peeved at that but you collect yourself. “Come on. Let’s go see what that’s about.” You give her a quick kiss before you exit the vehicle, holding the door open for her to step out. 

Wanda has half a mind to pull you back into the car, wrap back up in you, and never let you go, although she knows in the end it’s not you that’s going but her that has to leave. She’s just sad that her ride is here so soon and that she had to wake up to it after a night like last night. 

Last night was what felt like a wake up call for her. Lying in your arms, she began to wonder what she was even doing with you anymore. You make her feel like no one else has. She might have denied it all night, but she can be honest with herself. She knows she was jealous. She has never been jealous about anyone before and maybe because she knows she has no claim to you, in other words any reason to be jealous, she realized she wants to have a reason. She wants the right to be jealous. 

You stand there patiently waiting for her to step out of the car. Once she’s out, you fix her hair for her. “There. Maybe not Sister Wanda but I didn’t leave any marks for you to be DJ Wanda either,” you joke, trying to pull a smile from Wanda.

You do, but you find it odd that she doesn’t whack you or anything for teasing. “Wow, no violence after making a joke like that. Are you feeling okay? Did the alcohol not hit you until right now? Are you somehow drunk?”

“No,” she rolls her eyes at you. “I thought we had a rule about not hitting you.”

“Oh, so now you remember the rules. It only took you til your last day here to remember them,” you chuckle, closing the door behind her. You begin walking toward the house but when you reach the porch you feel Wanda pull you back. You look at her with questioning eyes.

Wanda decides to finally voice all her thoughts and feelings that she has been keeping to herself once and for all. “About those rules-“

“Robin Hood?”

Wanda is cut off by that familiar voice you couldn’t place before but you couldn’t mistake it now especially given that nickname. There was only one person to ever call you that. You didn’t have to look to know who it was but you and Wanda both turn to see the last person you thought you would ever catch in Westview County standing on your cousin’s porch.

“Skye?”

______________________________________________________

Dun, dun, duUuUn

@madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovestory @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission @imagine-reblog @fayhar @idek-5 @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @bemyvitamin​ @musicinourlips​ @paumxmff​ @wandamaximoffsrings​ @yeetus-thyself​ @lostandsearching​ @when-wolves-howl @euphoriaszn2​ @gingerbreadcookieforlife​ @myfavoriteficss @cyberbonesworld

[shycoconutt]

I Found My Light (Kakashi x Reader)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

A/n: Sound the alarms! It’s my first ever writing post! I’ve had this written for a while tbh, and I feel like I’m ready to start getting into this.

Summary: A late-night walk turns into a rekindled friendship.

Word Count: 2300

Warnings: fem!reader, SFW (but might not be later lol)

You opened your eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time tonight. Staring at the white ceiling, you sighed. Sleep seemed to evade you recently, a side effect of the recent dreariness of your life. You found yourself living the same days over and over again. Because of this, the line between day and night started to fade.

The moon was full tonight, you noticed as it shined brightly through your open window. It was the perfect temperature out, warm but chilly enough to feel comfortable wrapped in your blankets. You love listening to the occasional sounds that occurred outside, the noise of leaves rustling in the wind being your favorite.

Your gaze left the moon and landed back on your ceiling. Why is something as simple as sleeping so hard? Gods, all you wanted was an escape. With a huff, you pushed the covers off of you and sat up from your lying position. Trying to force yourself to sleep would do more harm than good right now.

You make your way to your dresser and pull out your favorite pair of black joggers. You love them because they are tight on your ankles, loose on your legs, and have a cinched band at the waist. They are perfect for any lazy day. You slip them on over your underwear, you never go to bed with pants on, and exchange your sleep shirt for a cropped black hoodie made from the same soft, elastic material as your pants.

You turn to face your large standing mirror in the corner of the room to assess your appearance. The all-black look was your favorite, especially since it will help you blend into the night. Your hair was a mess, so you decided to put it up in a loose bun on the top of your head and pull out some strands to frame your face. It felt good to not look so polished and put together. Your jonin uniform was not the most comfortable piece of clothing, especially with the way it hit your figure.

You walked out of your bedroom and across the kitchen to the front door of your apartment. One foot after the other, you slide into your sandals and grab the key to your apartment hanging on the hook next to you. With that, you leave your apartment and head out into the night.

You walked the streets of Konoha at a gingerly pace. It was probably around 3 a.m. at this point, and there wasn’t a single soul on the street with you. You make your way past the line of shops on the main street, including your favorite bakery where you'd treat yourself to a lemon square after coming back from a long mission. You thought about that lemon square a lot when you were out risking your life, embarrassingly enough.

A couple of turns later and you found yourself heading towards your favorite place in all of Konoha, a little area of woods towards the perimeter that contained this amazing koi pond. Although it was nighttime and the fish wouldn’t be as active, you still want to check to see if you can watch any. To your surprise, your favorite koi, who you nicknamed “Nishi'', was out and swimming around by himself. You sit criss-cross in the grass and watch as he glides through the calm water, almost putting you in trance. Nishi didn’t look or act like the others; He was black with white, almost silver-looking spots and he was less frantic in nature. You sway from side to side as you watch him, thinking to yourself about how you would like to be more like Nishi.

“You look cute watching the koi.” You heard a soft, yet unwavering voice declare behind you.

“Holy sh-” You almost jump out of your pants at the unexpected presence. Surprised, you quickly turn your head around to see who’s voice that could possibly be. To your disbelief, there lies a figure perched up by a tree a couple yards away from you. Their feet were crossed, legs extended, one hand in the pocket of their pants, the other holding up what looks like a copy of Icha-Icha, head turned towards you, and wild hair moving with each passing breeze. How did I not notice him?

“Oh I’m sorry (y/n), I didn’t mean to startle you. I figured you knew I was here because you walked right past me.” He brought his hand up to scratch the back of his head and let out a small chuckle. “Guess I should have made my presence known right away.”

Still in disbelief, you get up and slowly make your way towards the figure, stepping into the shadow of the tree to see him more clearly. As you approached you immediately recognized the silver-haired jonin.

“Kakashi?” You say confused. “What are you doing out here? It’s late.”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He states, closing his book and setting it down next to him on the grass. He looked different. He looked… quite hot actually. The jonin uniform you usually saw him in was traded for a pair of comfortable-looking grey sweatpants and a tight, black tank top that connected to his mask. He wasn’t wearing his headband either, just keeping his left sharingan eye shut in a permanent wink. As you observed him, you couldn’t help but notice that he was doing the same to you.

“I suppose you're right.” You smirk and let out a small chuckle. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured that if I was up I should take a walk around the village to clear my head. This is my favorite spot, so I guess I just naturally ended up here.” You exclaimed, still standing in front of him.

“It looks like you and I are having the same issue,” he states plainly, “I came out here a little while ago after tossing in my bed for an hour. I hate trying to force myself to sleep; It’s a battle I never seem to win.” His eyes averted your gaze and moved to his now empty hands in his lap. You couldn’t help but notice a hint of pain in his voice and it tugged at your heartstrings.

You know about the things Kakashi has been through, as it was pretty common knowledge to all jonin in your mutual age group. You were pretty close with his friends, Gai, Kurenai, and Asuma, but Kakashi always seemed to keep everyone at an arm’s length. He also was an Anbu for ten years, which didn’t help the disconnect either. Fortunately, he was relieved from his Anbu position a couple weeks ago, and gradually you have been seeing him a bit more here and there. Though, this is the first time you are able to have a conversation with him in what seems like forever.

“Well,” you sighed, “I guess we have lost the battle together. We must be pretty shitty jonin.” You stated flatly.

Kakashi squinted his eyes and you both laughed. You couldn’t help but take a mental picture of his face at this moment. You really enjoy seeing him happy, as it makes you happy too.

You can’t kid yourself, having a chance to talk with Kakashi alone feels like such a treat. Little genin (y/n) would be ecstatic right now. Of course you had a crush on him back then, who didn’t?

“You’ve always had a natural talent for connecting with people,” Kakashi mused, “I haven’t talked to you since we were teenagers, and here I am laughing with you like we’re long-time friends.”

You could feel your eyebrows furrow at that statement. Yeah sure, you weren’t at his apartment every week for Sunday brunch, but you did have a history.

“Kakashi,” you started, “You are my long-time friend. Just because we drifted apart doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. To be honest, I was relieved when I found out you were no longer going to be a member of the Anbu. It wasn’t good for you.” You stepped closer and sat down next to him, leaning back on the tree stump. The grass felt cool under you, sending a small shiver up your body.

“I suppose you’re right,” Kakashi stated, quoting your words from earlier. “It amazes me that none of you gave up on me. I feel like I am undeserving of everyone’s effort.” You were baffled by his honesty; Kakashi wasn’t known to be much of an open book. It upsets you so much that he feels this way as you couldn’t imagine not caring about him or any of your other comrades in the village. The faces of your closest friends flashed through your mind and you grimaced at the thought of losing them.

Not knowing if you should, you felt compelled to reach over and hold Kakashi’s hand in yours. It's cold compared to the warmth spreading from your fingertips. Hmm, I wonder how long he has been out here. Giving his hand a small squeeze, you look at him in his onyx eye. “Trust me, Kakashi. You are deserving. You are deserving of a great life and people who care about you. I know the world may seem dark, but I promise that a light is always glowing. No matter how small or dim, it’s there.”

You stare at each other in silence for a moment before he changes the position of his hand and intertwines his fingers in yours. The change was small, but it ignites a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t describe. Slowly, you felt your cheeks flush and you turned your face to look towards the sky in hopes he wouldn’t notice. You knew this action was him telling you that he accepts your words, and thanks you for them.

You spent the next hour sitting under the tree together, you looking up at the stars and him looking at you. Your intertwined hands fell between your bodies, resting on the cool grass. You felt him start to graze the back of your hand with his thumb, sending a tingling sensation up your arm. It felt so good to be touched by him, even in such an innocent manner.

A strong breeze ran through the air and hit you suddenly. You began to shiver at the quick change in temperature, realizing that you should have dressed warmer if you were going to be out this long. Yet, you couldn’t have anticipated the situation you are currently in.

“Are you cold?” Kakashi questioned with a hint of concern.

“Yeah a little bit,” you answered honestly, “but I don’t want to go back home. I’m not really tired yet.” Truthfully, you didn’t want this little moment of shared bliss to end. You started to feel like you found your escape, and you refused to be torn away from it so soon.

“Neither do I,” he confessed, “Come here.” He released his hand from yours and slid his position higher up on the side of the tree. He then spread his legs and patted the ground in between, inviting you to sit.

You felt your face get hot again, as the position he was offering you was a very intimate gesture. There was absolutely no way you could refuse his offer. One, because you were freezing and, two, young (y/n) would never forgive you.

You got up and sat down carefully between his thighs, leaning until your back met his chest. He then wrapped both of his arms around you, one around your shoulders and the other around your waist with his hand resting on your stomach. The outsides of your legs met the insides of his and you felt an immediate warmth there. Lastly, your head tilted back and rested upon his left shoulder, with his face nuzzled against your temple. You both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, no part of you feeling any discomfort against his strong body. Engulfed in his smell and warmth, for the first time in a while you felt completely relaxed.

“Thank you, Kakashi.” You looked up at him with a warm smile.

“Anytime.” He breathed, voice muffled by your hair. You wondered if he truly meant that. I mean, after all, this is the first time you have interacted in a while. Yet, the connection you felt towards him was unquestionable.

Does he feel the way I feel?

“Hey,” you began, “are you tired at all?”

He flexed his arms and held you closer to his chest. “Not really,” he answered, “I’m enjoying this moment too much to be tired.” You smiled, and there was a pause.

“Isn’t this odd?” you questioned again.

“What? You and I snuggled under a tree in a random corner of the village alone at 4 a.m. after we haven’t interacted with each other in years?” he questioned sarcastically, “Not at all.”

“Kakashi!,” you laughed, gently nudging your elbow into his ribs as he laughed along with you.

“Yeah it’s a little odd,” he answered honestly, “but I’m not going to question it. I found my light, and now I’m enjoying it.” He nuzzled his face into your hair and breathed deeply.

Completely and utterly relaxed, you let yourself succumb to the heaviness of your eyelids. Truthfully, this has felt like the longest day in the world and you are happy to end it this way. The sound of Kakashi’s breathing and the rise and fall of his chest acted as your personal sleep machine. It’s priceless.

Before you completely drift off, you swear you could feel the soft, pillowiness of Kakashi’s lips graze the skin of your temple, a soft hum escaping from them.

“Goodnight, (y/n)”

~~~

Queue Hilary Duff’s “What Dreams Are Made Of”. This kind of feels like the beginning of something. Should I continue? Idk if my writing is even good. If you read this, PLEASE let me know if you have any feedback. Again, this is my first story and I would greatly appreciate any feedback, advice, suggestions, etc.! I can’t believe I’m uploading, ah! - Klara