#if this joke has been made before then I haven't seen it so it's fine fjjdjdj

[froggydraws]

happy pride from Paris' superheroes

[iluvmattsbeard]

ride (m.s)

master list

dad!matt x mom!reader

warnings: HEAVY smut/car sex/choking/swearing/unprotected sex/creampie

preview: it was rare to have time alone ever since you two had a child. Nick volunteers to babysit, leaving you two to make dinner plans when you get home from work. when you get ready, Matt waits in the car and when you come out, he questions if you guys should just skip reservation.

a/n: DAD MATT AND SMUT. HERE YOU GO. LIKES, COMMENTS, and REBLOGS are very appreciated.

while you were at work, Matt has been begging to take you out to dinner.

Y/n

I don't know Matt...

maybe some other time we can go out. who would watch Ellie?

Ellie was your one year old daughter. you and Matt haven't had alone time ever since you had her. you were too busy with work and when you weren't working, you put all your time towards her.

Matt

Y/n we haven't been out. it's just one night.

Nick is willing to watch her tonight.

you hesitate a bit to respond.

Matt

come on please?

Y/n

okay fine. make sure Nick is actually okay with it.

Matt

making the reservation now!

Matt's POV

"me and mommy are going on a date!" I say with a smile, bouncing Ellie on my lap. I think we deserve just one night. as much as I love spending time with our daughter, I miss when I had Y/n to myself. Nick texts me saying he'll be here later and I thank him. he loves spending time with Ellie. he spoils her the most. I don't really trust Chris after what he said about if he had a kid he would chuck the kid in the back seat with no car seat because he thinks it's a fuss. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

I'm just glad Y/n agreed to tonight. she deserves it the most. she's a wonderful mom and I wouldn't have it any other way. I sit down Ellie on the bed. she's not walking yet but, she knows how to sit up. as she sits there playing with her toys, I look in the closet for something to wear. I also look at Y/n's side of the closet to pick something out for her. I made reservations for the restaurant she's been wanting to go to. I notice this red dress that I haven't seen her wear before. tonight is the night she will. I analyze the dress and picture her in it.

after, I go back to Ellie and take a photo of her, "going to send this to mommy." I say.

Y/n

are you sure you want to leave that cute face?

Matt

no backing out

later on, Nick arrives and he surprises Ellie with a new stuffed toy. "really Nick? another toy?" I chuckle. he shrugs, "she's my only niece. I just need to spoil her." I shake my head with a smile. "when is Y/n coming home?" he asks carrying Ellie. I check the time on my phone, "she'll text when she's on the way." I respond. we both talk about the plans I have for tonight. "I don't know why you guys don't ask me more often. I will drop everything to watch her." Nick says making me laugh, "well it's up to Y/n." my phone buzzes shortly after, showing a text notification from her.

Y/n

coming home now love

Matt

drive safely!

End of Matt's POV

after a bit, you finally arrive home. you unlock the door to immediately see Matt and Nick playing with your daughter. they both turn their heads to face you, "look, it's mommy!" Nick exclaims making Ellie reach out for you with a squeal. you giggle and walk up to the three, picking her up. you plant a kiss on her cheek, "hello my love." you say with a smile. you look at Nick, "are you sure you're okay with watching her? we can just re-." you were cut off by Matt, "he wants to watch her. now, give me Ellie and get ready." you back up a bit, "I was talking to Nick." you say with a small laugh. Nick nods, "Y/n I literally told Matt earlier that you guys need to let me know more often." he responds. "okay I just want to make sure." you let out, looking at Ellie. "it's just going to be different." you add on.

"well this is why we're going out tonight so that you can see Ellie will be okay without us." Matt says reassuringly. you sigh softly as Matt takes your daughter from your arms. "now, go get ready." he continues. "so eager." you say with a smile before going to your bedroom. your eyes were met with a dress laid out on the bed. you pick it up and shake your head. you haven't dressed it up in a while. your style has changed ever since you had Ellie. you didn't know how you'd feel in this dress. you go to the bathroom and take a quick shower. then, you slip on the dress and stare at yourself in the mirror. your cleavage was very visible and the dress hugged your curves like a glove. you felt like it was too much but, you stick to it since it's what Matt wants. you do your makeup and put on jewelry that compliments the outfit.

Matt

i'll wait in the car

I can't wait to see you all dressed up mama

you read the text and sigh softly. you've been with Matt for a while but, you still felt nervous. your stomach was turning, it was like the first time you went out together. you put on your heels and walk out the bedroom.

Nick's eyes land on you and he gasps, "oh my damn." he lets out. he covers his mouth, "you look fantastic." he compliments you. "it's not too much?" you ask uncertain still of the way you look. Nick shakes his head, "no you look great! it's rare for you to be dressed up so, it's never too much." he says. you walk over to the two and carry your daughter. "mommy will be back later okay?" you say kissing her cheek softly, making sure your lipstick doesn't stain on her. you hand her back to Nick, "okay, please text if you need anything." you say and he shakes his head, "just go Y/n! we'll be good! go enjoy your night." "thank you Nick. we'll see you later." you greet him good bye and walk out the door. you tug your dress down slightly and head towards the car.

you open the passenger door and get in. Matt looks at you with his mouth agape. you were going to put your seat belt on but suddenly stop when you catch his stare, "Matt?" you laugh softly. his eyes were slowly checking you out from your face, down to your exposed cleavage. he looks away quickly and clears his throat, "are you okay?" you speak up again, "are you having second thoughts?" he looks at you again, "a little yeah." you were taken aback from his response, "what? you were literally begging me earlier. I got ready for-." he interrupts you, "Y/n..." he lets out. you stare at him with a confused expression. "look down." he mutters. you look down at his pants to see a visible dent. your eyes widen a bit, "Matt!" you exclaim, "are you serious?" you add on with a slight laugh.

he quickly changes the subject, "okay put your seat belt on." you do as he says as he drives off. the car ride was silent. you still couldn't believe how easily turned on he was. in his defense, you guys barely have time alone to do anything so he couldn't help it. Matt was tense while driving. his jaw was clenched a bit, letting out a breath. you look at him, breaking the silence, "Matt do you want me to go home and change or something?" he doesn't respond. "come on talk to me." you were getting a little irritated.

"we can still turn around." you continue. Matt grips the steering wheel and pulls over. you look at him and try to speak, "what are you-." he puts the car in park and unbuckles his seat belt. he lets out another breath and avoids eye contact, "I don't want you to change, I don't want to turn around, and its hard to speak to you right now." he lets out. "okay well you're acting off and it's confusing me." you respond. he looks at you with a straight face, "if I tell you what I have in mind, you wouldn't want to start something you can't finish." he says. you fix your posture, "what are you talking about?" you question.

"I want you to ride me." your eyes widen by his straightforward response, "w-what?" you stutter out, "right now?" he puts his seat back slightly and puts his hand on the dent of his pants, "right now." he says. you unbuckle your seat belt and take off your heels. deep down, you wanted it as badly as he does. you crawl on top of him, sitting your clothed cunt on his dent. he lets out a groan, immediately placing his lips onto yours. you kiss back with the same eagerness and wrap your arms around his neck. the kiss was intense, you both were acting like you've been starved from each other. he places his hands on your waist as you start to grind on his clothed erection. you earn a groan from him as he run his hands down to your ass.

he grips it and you felt yourself get more wet. you run your hands through his hair as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Matt pulls up your dress slightly, now touching your bare ass. his grip was harsher this time making you moan out suddenly. he pulls away and you were both left breathing heavily, “I need to feel you.” Matt lets out. you look down at his pants and unbutton it. he helps you as he pulls down his pants with his boxers.

you gulp at the sight of his throbbing tip. you don’t even remember the last time you had him inside of you. “wait, how about our reservation?” you ask looking at him. “don’t waste time.” he says pulling your dress up more, sliding your panties to the side. he rubs his tip at your entrance, causing you to squeeze your thighs slightly. “you’re so wet mama.” he says before pushing into you slowly. your mouth went slightly open, escaping a small gasp. his hands were on your hips as he pushes you down on his cock.

you felt him stretching you out, letting a moan out, “fuck Matt. you’re too big.” he grins, “what, you don’t think you’ll be able to handle it?” he teases, stopping his movement. you shake your head, “n-no! I can.” you whine out, moving your hips desperately. Matt groans, “fuck keep doing that.” you shut your eyes, gripping onto his shoulders as you begin to ride him. “you feel so good on me.” he lets out a breath, gripping your hips. you start to pick up the pace, rolling your hips in a consistent pace.

Matt runs his hands down to your ass again as he squeezes, “you’re so fucking sexy riding me.” he says.

Matt throws his head back moaning out low curse words. you run your hands down his chest with your mouth agape. his length filled you up perfectly. you suddenly start to bounce yourself up and down, filling the car with the sounds of your guys’ skin slapping against each other. Matt looks down at the sight of you taking his dick. every time you went back down as you bounced, made Matt want to hold you down and stay deep inside of you, “I-I told you I could handle it.” you mutter out.

he then grips your neck, stopping your movements from his sudden rough thrusts. you hold onto his arm as you gasp, “f-fuck!” you scream out. “how about now?” he grunts. he tightens his grip as you place your hand on the car window. the windows were fogged up as your hand slid down it slightly. “you like when i’m deep inside of you huh?” he asks, continuing his movement. you nod quickly making him speed up. you felt weak, now gripping onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin.

“fuck Matt!” you moan out as he starts to get sloppy with his thrusts. you take over and start rolling your hips again, driving him crazy. you were both moaning messes. you love how vocal he is. he bucks his hips as he throws his head back again, shutting his eyes. you were both in sync as you rode him and he thrusts. “I-I’m going to cum.” you manage to moan out. Matt picks up the pace again making your legs shake as you release all over his cock.

he manages a few more thrusts before shooting his cum inside of you, holding your hips down on him still. you collapse onto his chest as you both catch up with your breathing. “h-holy shit.” you stutter out. “what baby?” he asks rubbing your lower back. “I missed this.” you confess as he smiles, “me too. looks like we need to take Nick on his offer to watch Ellie more often.” he says. you sit up still on him as you check the time, “do we still go to dinner?” you ask. he looks at you, “we’re a sweating mess and my dick is still inside of you. what do you think?” he asks. you stay quiet for a bit before giving a sly smile, “another round?” you let out, causing you both to laugh, and he attaches his lips to yours after.

a/n: hope this satisfies your dad Matt craving

[literaila]

keeping secrets

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and satoru avoid each other

warnings: actual fighting, sad everyone, hurt/little comfort (sorry)

last part | next part

*

year four.

"did megumi give you a permission slip?" you ask satoru, leaning against the side of the couch, peeking at his phone. "it's for a field trip, but i haven't seen it. he says he set it on the counter." 

satoru glances at you. then back, and shakes his head. 

"he didn't give you anything to sign?" 

"not recently." 

you sigh. "i don't think he lost it." 

satoru's lip quirks. "you think i'm hiding it?" 

"i don't know. did you accidentally eat it?" 

his eyes roll. "i have better taste than that." 

"well, can you help me look for it?" 

satoru sighs, head hanging back for a moment, then he throws his phone down, groaning as he stands up. after he stretches, he half-heartedly moves a pillow, pretending to look under it. 

you snort. 

but satoru doesn't look back at you, and moves to the table, to look at the stack of papers there. 

and, admittedly, things have been a bit off. 

you tried to ignore it at first--ignore the way satoru avoided your eyes, or kept himself five feet away from you at all times. you tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. that he wasn't giving you short responses, or only joking with you in dire moments (like when something you say goes over both of the kid's heads and they stare at you weirdly).

honestly, you hadn't even noticed anything was wrong until you'd realized that it'd been a week since he fell asleep with you. since he even bothered to come out of his room after putting the kids to bed. a week since he tried to squeeze you to death, or grossly kissed your cheek. 

and... it shouldn't be weird.

no rule says that he has to spend a specific amount of time with you, or cuddle in your bed, or smile at you, or... do anything that your best friend probably shouldnt do. 

but it's weird. 

it's strange because your relationship with satoru has stayed relatively consistent, an upward slope for the past six years. you've grown closer, but never farther. 

and, in the depths of your mind, usually when you're lying awake at night, you recognize that there's one single moment when it switched. that everything changed a specific morning, and you haven't been able to rewind it. to take it all back. 

and you could just blame the alcohol for your confession, you probably should. 

but then you'd also have to blame your sixteen-year-old self, the girl who'd been attracted to satoru in the first place. the eighteen-year-old who agreed to tie her life to his and take in the kids, or you now, still cursing yourself for falling in love with him.

it's not like satoru made you. 

if intoxication is to blame, so is your heart, your soul, for starting all of this in the first place. 

you'd decided to not blame anything at all, in the end. everything's fine. 

"find anything?" you ask him, a bit cold in the room, feeling that same tension that's been there. those unspoken words, infinite amounts of distance.

you try to ignore it, really. 

"just the receipt for tsumiki's violin." 

"tsumiki's what?" you ask, blinking at him. 

"i didn't tell you about that?" 

"satoru, you can't just buy them things on a whim--" 

he holds a hand up, stopping you. "she said it was for school," he says, giving you a quick grin. "plus, she's pretty good." 

"there's no way she's good." 

"you'll see," he says, "when we go to her recital." 

"what?" 

satoru shrugs, then he turns around, organizing the piles of papers into neat stacks. it almost makes you want to check him for a spider bite, a fever, remnants of poison. no way your satoru is doing that. 

not that he's yours. he hasn't been yours in years, hasn't been your anything ever. 

"oh, here," he says, eventually, handing you a paper which he already signed--of course--and shaking his head. "museums," he grumbles. 

but he doesn't give you the chance to respond, turning to walk down the hall--towards his room--before you can even chide him for forgetting about it. 

so, yeah. things are fine. 

*

"where's gojo?" megumi asks, as the two of you walk through the door.

the house is empty without satoru there. colder, dimmer. and, of course, there's no one to irritate the boy right when he walks in. 

you try not to wince at the question, or spiral into your own question of 'where's gojo?'

"uh," you lock the door, then unlock it. then lock it again. "he's on another job." 

"again?" 

you give megumi a bland smile, taking his backpack from him. "guess they think he needs more practice," you say, trying to tease. 

it falls flat. 

"did he get in trouble?" 

"i don't know," you shrug. "probably." 

honestly, it's not like you would know anyway. satoru doesn't tell you anything these days. 

it's probably what bothers you the most, because if he's not saying anything, then neither can you. you can't ask him what he thinks about tsumiki's new friend, or if megumi should be eating more, or if you're just making everything up, probably going insane--

"when's he going to be back?" 

"he said probably tomorrow. maybe the day after if it takes longer. i can't remember where they sent him..." 

megumi looks mischievous. his eyes are bright. "so we can make those miso brownies? since he's gone?" 

you laugh, ruffling his hair. "sure, when tsumiki gets home." 

he nods, satisfied, and turns around. then he looks back at you, eyes trailing over your expression. 

megumi looks at you quizzically, like he knows something you don't. "do you miss him?" 

you roll your eyes. "do you miss him, megumi?" 

he doesn't even think about it. "true," he says, then walks into the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge. 

maybe you miss him, you think, but only a little bit. it's not like he's been gone long. 

just, you know, forever. 

*

"hey," you lean against the desk in the office. satoru must be filling out a report, which should make you blink twice, but really it's him being out in the open that surprises you. 

most days he goes to hide in his room. he locks his door and makes sure that you wouldn't dare to walk through. that you have no means to interrupt his solitude. 

"oh, hey," satoru answers, not bothering to look up at you. his voice is low, familiar, and creates goosebumps on your skin. 

seriously, why is it so cold in this house? 

"i'm surprised those haven't gone missing yet," you gesture toward the papers, trying to be casual.

he snorts. "yaga said that if i lost them again, i was fired." 

"he said that two years ago." 

satoru nods, still scribbling. you want more than anything to just see his eyes for a moment, for him to look at you and grin like you're used to. 

but you know he won't, so you tap your fingers against the desk. "do you have a second?" 

"sure. what's up? megumi do something?" 

"no, the kids are fine, i, um--" you pause. it feels ridiculous to have to ask him this, to not know the answer. it feels ridiculous to be nervous around satoru. you haven't felt anxious, or worried about asking him anything since you were sixteen and realized that it didn't matter. "shoko texted me about that work 'meeting' that's happening on friday. do you want to go to that? i just need to know so i can tell her..." 

"meeting?" 

your smile is teasing, not that he's looking. "i think she meant party." 

"on friday?" 

"yeah. she said that the booze is free, and i think nanami's going, so i thought..." you hint, not even sure what you mean. 

i thought we could talk. i thought we could go together and maybe everything would go back to normal. i thought that we were friends, if anything, and that you cared about me--

satoru hums. "what about the kids?" 

"tsumiki has a birthday party that night, and megumi likes the sitter from last time," you wince at your accidental mention of that night. "or he can come, i guess, but he'd probably hate it." 

satoru snorts, nodding in agreement. you watch his hands freeze, then resume. 

he's thinking the same things you are, you know. he's thinking about how stupid you are, how ridiculous it is to imagine him being in love with you, caring about who you are or how you feel. 

you just know it. 

"so..." you whisper, after a second. "do you want to go?" 

you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. how can this be the only real conversation you've had with satoru this week? 

how can you miss him this much when he's literally right there? 

"i don't--" satoru makes a face, finally looking toward you. he sets down the pen. "i don't think so. but you can go and i can stay here with megumi," he suggests easily like he's not rejecting you. "we can have a guy's night." 

"megumi hates guy's nights." 

satoru has a cheeky grin on, but it's half-hearted. barely there. 

like a glimpse of him in a peephole, a moment where he's not hiding completely from you. 

he doesn't say anything, though. he doesn't even bother to come up with a better excuse. 

it's clear as day that he just doesn't want to hang out with you, even in a crowd of people.

"that's okay," you hum, eventually, trying to keep your voice steady. "i don't really--" 

"no, you should go. you haven't seen nanami in a while. you can have a night out," he says genuinely, but it sounds more like i need a break from you. 

"yeah," you try to laugh. "i--um, okay. if you're sure." 

he nods, looking away again. he hasn't touched you in weeks. your skin is almost molding, going completely stale. "i'm sure. we'll order dinner, so you don't have to worry about the brat complaining." 

"okay." 

"okay," satoru answers, but it doesn't mean anything. 

and it's not okay. 

*

the two of them walk through the door, and megumi looks... pleasant. he's got the makings of a smile on his face, a little jump in his step. 

it's one of the only times you've seen him look like the ten-year-old he is, instead of someone who's concerned about economic collapse. 

it makes you smile a bit, even if just the sight of satoru sends pangs down your chest.

"hey," you say, hand on his head as he lingers by you, eyes meeting yours in greeting. you look to satoru, who's pretending to wipe away a smudge on his glasses. "where were you guys?" 

"we were--" 

"gojo took me to that old hospital by my school," megumi says, "there were cursed spirits hanging outside. he let me and my divine dogs deal with them," he says this almost excitedly--as excited as megumi gets--and you can see it in his eyes. that little twinkle of pride. 

your eyes widen, but you smile, trying to be genuine. it's difficult because you've been lying for weeks. "really?" you ask, trying not to look over at satoru accusingly. "how'd it go?" 

"good," megumi, moves to the sink, washing his hands. "they're getting better at scenting them out. it didn't take long." 

"that's great." 

"megumi didn't need any of my help," satoru adds, giving you a short glance. "he's got good intuition." 

megumi looks at satoru with a glare in his eyes, but you can tell that he appreciates the compliment. 

you can tell that he's completely fine with this, that the two of them are going to act like it's normal, but you can't.

you try to ignore it when megumi looks between you and satoru, a slight furrow in his brows. he knows something wrong, you know. but you're not going to admit that. 

you swallow. "do you have any homework you need to finish, megs?" 

"uh..." he pauses. "i think so. reading?" 

you smile, hand on his back as you lead him out of the room. "okay, how about you go work on that? i need to talk to satoru real quick." 

he nods immediately, looking eager to leave--both the room and the tension. 

as soon as he's gone, you turn to satoru, narrowed eyes as you observe him. he's already smiling because he knows that he's in trouble. because he knows that you're angry. 

because, even if he hasn't actually spoken to you in weeks, satoru has always read you so well. he's always known what you're going to say before you say it. 

but you can't care about it. it doesn't mean anything to him. 

“you can’t do that,” you say, almost whispering. “not without asking me.” 

“i knew you’d say no.” 

you laugh, looking away from him. “exactly.”

“he’s fine,” satoru reassures. he shrugs, because why should he care about your concern? “he did good, and there’s not a scratch on him. i’m sorry for not telling you but—“ 

“no buts, satoru. you can’t take megumi out on missions like he’s a student. he’s not. and you definitely can’t do it without even telling me," there's a burning in your chest. your head is clouded over with anger. 

just looking at him--at his ridiculous smile and stupid perfect face--makes you clench your fists.

how can he stand there and act like you're a team? 

“it’s not a big deal. i was there the whole time—and he didn’t need me.” 

“i don’t care!” 

satoru rolls his eyes, his arms crossed. “i think you’re overreacting.” 

“i’m not," you say, trying to get him to look at you--actually look--but he won't. it makes your chest hurt even more. "you’re not telling me things—fine, whatever, keep whatever secrets you want, gojo. don't bother talking to me. but you can’t keep secrets from me about the kids.” 

“secrets? i’m not—“ 

you shake your head, hands in the air, trying to clear all of it away. you want the past month to go away, the past six years. “megumi’s just a kid. he’s ten. he can’t be going on missions, not until he’s ready.” 

“i think i’ve already proved how ready he is.” 

“well, maybe i'm not ready. he’s a kid.” 

“yeah,” satoru says, obviously. he scoffs. “yeah, he’s a kid. but he’s also a jujutsu sorcerer. you can’t separate the two.” 

his voice is all-knowing and his stance is firm. you know that you won't convince him otherwise--know that he's right, to some degree, but this isn't about megumi. 

this isn't about cursed spirits or jujutsu. 

“yes, you can," you say, clenching your jaw. "he doesn’t need to be seeing that shit right now. not until he decides he wants to. practice his technique with him all you want, but you can’t just take him to exorcise a curse with you.” 

“like i said, he’s fine.” 

“it’s not about that! it’s about you doing something reckless—again—and acting like there aren’t any consequences to your decisions. he’s my son,” you hiss, “he shouldn’t be going anywhere i don’t know about. you shouldn’t be making decisions about him behind my back.”

you shouldn't be pushing me away, you shouldn't be ruining this--

“so you want to lock him up here?" satoru asks, laughing at you. his teeth are sharp and he is still. "you want to take away his ability to defend himself?” 

you scoff. “are you kidding? you think me saying i don’t want you to get him killed is equal to me—“ 

“he was fine. if anything—anything—had been there that megumi couldn’t handle, i would’ve taken care of it. i wasn't going to let anyone touch him. that’s why i was there! and he didn’t even need me," he's boasting, swearing to you--you can feel it as he rolls his eyes at you.

“you know what he needs, satoru? he needs you to treat him like he’s a little boy and not some experiment for you to play with.” 

“i would never—“ 

you cut him off, “bringing him out into the open, where anyone could see him, could hurt him, and making him deal with your cursed spirit is not okay.” 

“i didn’t make him deal with anything," satoru swears, chin up. 

you snort. the two of you are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, head guarded. your muscles are tense like something is about to attack you. “oh, so he asked you to go?” 

“well, no, but—“ 

“then you made him! you put him up against a monster and treated him like a student, like a 16-year-old, and not your son.” 

the words feel nice to say. some version of the truth that's much better than whatever this version is. if satoru won't talk to you, you'll talk for him. 

you'll make every assumption, every bad perception (because he's supposed to keep you from worrying, he's supposed to be there to calm you down, to save you from that spiraling). but if he's not going to try, neither will you. 

satoru’s eyes grow hard. “what?” 

“why can’t you just let him be a kid? why do you have to push him into these things—“ 

“we talked with megumi about who he is,” satoru grinds, “he knows about the privilege of his strength, and the fact that he has to work to use it—“ 

“a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to work for anything!” 

he laughs at you. you can't see his eyes, but you watch his face as he tries to hide his expression, trying to keep his voice low. the kids are still in the house, so you shouldn't be yelling. but you can't bring it in yourself to really care. 

“what do you think the point of him living here was? why do you think we took him in?” 

you gape at him. “are you kidding?” you ask. “are you serious? we took him, and tsumiki, in because you’re responsible for killing their father! because they didn’t have anyone else, and that’s your fault.” 

“you think i don’t know that?” 

“well, i thought you did," you say, stepping away from him. some part of you wants to push him out, make him leave. the other part desperately wants him to stay--to say he's sorry. "but you just said that the only reason megumi is here is so you can teach him! when i agreed to this i thought you were facing the consequences of your actions, doing the right thing for those kids because you could. i thought you wanted to take care of them! to keep them away from our awful, messed up world.” 

satoru is staring at you with his jaw clenched. 

you continue, without consideration for the consequences of your words. “i didn’t think that you only wanted to keep megumi here so you could train him, like a dog.” 

“that’s not what i said.” 

you shake your head, a bitter smile on your face. “well it’s what you meant, and clearly you have no regard for his feelings or the way that curses might affect him—“ 

“don’t act like i did it just to mess with him," he interrupts, harshly. "it’s not a joke. i want him to be strong, i want him to be able to take care of himself—“ 

“and i want him to have a dad who isn’t so selfish!” 

“what?” 

“did you even think about it? what about the nightmares he’s going to have?" you wonder, rhetorically. "what about the fact that he’s different—that he’s already struggling to relate to other kids in school? what about him, satoru? why is it only about you?” 

what about me? you don't say. 

“i didn’t bring him for me—“ 

“you want a replacement. you want someone else to deal with everything, while you sit back and watch. i know what you’re trying to do—“

“really?" he points at you, the other hand clenched in the air. he's laughing again. "you can read my mind? you’ve already been let in on my plans—“ 

“don’t you wish that you’d had the opportunity to be just a kid?” you demand. “don’t you want that for megumi?” 

he shrugs. “sure. but it’s never going to happen.” 

“well, clearly, because you won’t let it.” 

“he gets to be a kid every day. god forbid i take him to see one curse, to understand how to use his powers, to protect himself, and you treat me like i wanted to kill him.” 

you laugh. your mind is a minefield, and everything he says ruins another part of it. 

all you can think about is him, him as a teenager, him with you, telling satoru you love him and him having nothing left to say--

but you scoff again, shoving yourself further away from him. “do you know how many times i’ve wanted to go back to when i was ten and just got to live my life? do you know how often i think about how everything could’ve been different?” 

“this isn’t about us."

“yes, it is. it is, satoru, because i didn’t get that chance and neither did you. and you just took away megumi’s chance.” 

“i didn’t take anything away," he says, softly, like he's trying to convince himself. 

clearly, you've struck a nerve. 

“he’s never going to be able to look at the world normally, but he doesn’t need the burden of saving people before he’s even in middle school.” 

“why is being strong so bad?” satoru asks you, demanding something more. why am i so bad? “why do you treat it like it’s a curse? like it’s going to hurt him?”

“look at you!” you respond. “look at suguru, and me, and shoko! look at any jujutsu sorcerer and ask them if being strong is worth it—is worth screwing your life over.”

satoru looks taken aback. he steps away from you. 

“god, it’s like you think that we’re a different species," you tell him, never having felt like it's more true. "you’re human, satoru. you might be the strongest, but you’re still human, and you still have nightmares like all of the rest of us.” 

he shakes his head at you. 

“why do you want that for megumi? why push him into this right now?” 

“i want him to be able to take care of himself. so that he doesn’t die like our colleagues, so that he doesn’t make the wrong choice like—“ 

he stops, his voice breaking before he can continue. 

and maybe you know what this is really about, but if satoru doesn’t want to tell you how he feels, if he wants to pretend like it doesn’t matter— 

fine. you will too. 

“it wouldn’t make a difference. he’s already—his life is already messed up.” 

satoru looks at you, his eyes ablaze. “don’t you think that if i was him, if i could’ve been stronger, if i could’ve saved all of those people—don’t you think i would do it in an instant? don’t you think i know that because i wasn’t strong enough, people died?” 

this is the thing you've feared since you were eighteen, a brand new person responsible for two little lives. you've feared satoru's moral commitment since before you met him. since you saw him destroy a curse in an instant and realized he was different than everyone else. 

“megumi isn’t you! he doesn’t need to be taught to take on the responsibility of everyone’s lives—“ 

“you can’t say that i’m selfish, that i don’t care, and then say that i care too much,” he says, shaking his head, unable to look at you. 

he hasn't been able to look you in the eye in weeks. 

“you’re both!" you say, almost yelling. "you’re everything. and you don’t think! you haven’t thought for a moment about what megumi might be feeling, who he might want to be—“ 

“and you have? what about what you want him to be?” 

“i want him to be happy! i want him to grow up better than i ever did. i don’t want him chasing a bunch of cursed spirits around on the weekend like it’s a normal thing—“ 

“it is normal. for us, it’s normal. for him, it’s normal.” 

you sigh, a weight on your chest, a burning in your throat. “well, maybe it shouldn’t be.” 

you're not going to start crying now. not with satoru watching, not when he gets to know just how much you care. 

satoru scoffs. “so you’d just have everyone defend themselves--" 

"i don't know how you're arrogant enough to believe that you can save everyone--"

"--you’d just forget that we’re strong for a reason, that we--“ 

“but you’re never going to be strong enough, satoru. never.” 

satoru stares at you. he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t bother to argue. 

and after a moment he turns around. you reach your hand out to grab him--hold onto him and keep him here, because this isn't finished, and you're not done with him. you haven't even started. 

but you run into a wall. you look down and your hand is dangling idly in front of his arm, stuck in the air. 

you can't see satoru's eyes, but you can feel his heart--your heart--as it skips a beat in realization. 

but then satoru shakes you off, pushes you infinitely farther away from infinity, and keeps going. 

he walks out the door, slamming it shut.

you stand there for a moment, watching. you wait for the door to open again, for satoru to come back, for him to laugh--tell you that everything's fine, that it'll all be fine. that it's okay if you're angry, that he doesn't care. 

but after a minute, he doesn't return. 

and after another, you have to lean against the counter. your hand burns--but maybe that's just your imagination. you're pretty sure that infinity has no drawbacks, that there's no consequence for touching, for not touching satoru. 

pretty sure. 

but you still look over your skin, trying to see if he's left some mark. it would be nice to have some evidence of what he's done to you. you clench your fist, but the feeling doesn't go away. 

and maybe it's not your hand. maybe it's your chest. maybe it's these weeks of feeling separated, feeling miles apart from him, feeling like it's all your fault that any of this has happened. 

you... you can't even remember what you were arguing about. 

you feel like a kid again, hiding yourself in your room just so your parents don't have to deal with you. you feel like that little girl who hid in the cupboards, trying to escape the monsters that no one else could see. you feel like that smaller, reckless version of yourself that left home at the first chance, who knew she wasn't allowed back. 

are you allowed here? you wonder. is it going to happen again? are these monsters--real and fake--too much for your family to handle again? 

you exhale, trying to catch your breath again. none of this feels right, normal, easy. 

should you--should you call him? should you wait for him to come back? 

is he going to come back? 

the slam of the door is still echoing throughout the house when they creep down the hallway, making sure their footsteps are soft, but also loud enough for you to hear. 

maybe you've only been standing there, waiting for satoru to turn around, for thirty seconds. 

but it feels like an hour. 

"mom?" a tiny voice asks, and both of them are turning around the corner, taking hesitant steps towards you. 

you have to swallow. you need some water, an icepack maybe, to get rid of the burning feeling in your throat. the telltale signs that you're going to cry--that you've suffered blows to the core, and you can't backtrack now. 

but you don't want to cry in front of them. you refuse to. if you didn't want to cry in front of satoru, you won't cry in front of the kids. 

so you turn around, swallow again, and fill a glass of water. 

you chug it down, wanting it to wash away that feeling, that ache. 

you can't say anything just yet because then you'll actually fall apart. 

megumi and tsumiki watch you, both of them silent as they wait for your direction. for some solution you should have. 

you take a deep breath, then turn, almost faltering when you see the worried look on both of their faces, the concern in their eyes. neither of them should have to worry about this. 

god, how could you forget that they were there? that they could hear everything? 

how could you make another mistake? 

"hey, guys," you say, clearing your throat. you want to be nonchalant, and casual, but you've never been either a day in your life. 

"where did gojo go?" 

"i, um," you take another sip of water, because that feeling crawls up your throat, makes itself known again. "i think he went on a walk." 

"is he okay?" tsumiki asks. 

"are you okay?" megumi follows. 

"yeah, he's fine. he's good. i--he just needed some space, you know? um... a break." 

"from us?" 

your eyes widen. "no, no, no. of course not, never you guys. he's... just been busy this week. working a lot. and, i, well, he's good. we're good." 

megumi leans on the counter next to you, looking at you very closely. "are you okay?" he repeats. 

"i'm good, megs. it's..." you smile. "it's fine. um, did satoru get you anything to eat while you were out? i'm not sure what we've got, but i can make something if you--" 

"when is he going to be back?" 

you stop, sighing. you shouldn't have taught either of them how to read emotions, or how to eavesdrop. you shouldn't be speaking to anyone, or trusted with anything. 

"i'm not sure, buddy. he'll be back when he's ready." 

"is he going to stay out all night?" tsumiki asks, worried. 

"no, i'm sure--" you stop again. "gojo will be back in time for bed, okay?" 

they're both staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound, something to make it actually okay. 

but you have nothing. is satoru going to come back? is he going to stay somewhere else? you know he'll exhaust himself just to avoid coming home-- 

this is why you shouldn't have moved in--

this is why you never should've agreed to this, allowed himself to burrow a hole in your heart, in your soul-- 

"hey," megumi takes a step towards you. and then, before you can blink the tears out of your eyes, reassure him that it's fine, his arms are around your waist. 

he nuzzles his face into your side, squeezing tighter than you thought a little boy could. 

theres only a second of this before tsumiki's on your other side, and squeezing just as hard. 

your hands fall on both of their backs, and you take a breath that feels more like never breathing again. your lungs won't fill, and your chest is incomplete

but they stand there with you, and eventually, your heart begins to match theirs, and their little hands keep you together. 

you can't cry, but you really want to. 

*

satoru's entire body feels different. 

he knows what it's lacking, the changes he's made in a short period of time--giving himself no time to acclimate, no pause where he slowly adapts to the differences. 

he misses you. 

it's been like this before--when suguru left and satoru couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, nonetheless you in the eyes--but it's never felt so severe. 

because you're right there. you've been there every day, waking him up, making the kids breakfast, laughing when megumi bullies him, smiling at tsumiki's attempts at mediating. 

you're there in the morning, in the afternoon, and every night. you're right there for him--and he can't say a word. 

he doesn't want this, this thing to be real. 

denial is his favorite emotion, and recently, he can't even muster the strength to go through with it.

and now, he feels even more hopeless, lacking, never ever enough. 

but he walks through the door because he has nowhere else to go. he has no other home--besides the three of you. 

it's dark outside when he comes back, and the door is unlocked, so he knows that you've been waiting. that you had to deal with the aftermath of shouted voices and scared children who he felt lurking behind a wall before he got the chance to think about any of it.

he needs to talk to you. satoru knows that, he really does. but he's not sure what to say. 

he could apologize for tonight--could tell you that he won't make any more decisions, that he won't wreck this thing you've built--but it's not enough. 

he should probably apologize for the last seven years. for letting himself grow attached to you, and then continue to hold you at arms length. he should probably apologize for being himself, for being less than he could be. 

but those words feel too rotten to say aloud. 

so, when he walks up to your door, waiting to feel your obvious presence--to see it, like he always does, the wall of cursed energy that you are--he feels like running away again. 

you don't even need to know that he's home. satoru could go to bed, and he could probably pretend that nothing happened in the morning and you would follow along. 

but he doesn't want to do that. not to you. 

and he needs to see you, needs to say something before he figures it all out--should he leave, or stay? should he continue to push you away to protect you? should he tell you all of it? 

it doesn't matter, he knows, because he probably won't be able to do any of it. 

and for the first time in years, satoru makes sure to knock before he opens your door. just a small repetition of his knuckles, but he might as well be breaking down a tradition. 

there's no answer, but he's not waiting, so he creaks the door open, looking for you immediately. 

and he sees you, lying in bed. 

and he sees your shoulders shaking slightly, with you curled up in the fetal position, and he can hear the sniffle before the door is all the way open. 

there's no choice, he knows. he's not going to let you cry yourself to sleep without saying anything. he's not going to leave you alone. 

you don't turn around, but satoru knows that you must know he's there. he walks across the floor, sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting for you to turn to him. 

and yell, maybe. tell him to leave again. tell him that you don't want to look at him anymore. 

but you don't move. your shaking is slightly stifled, and satoru can tell that you're trying to keep your breathing low, to keep him from noticing you cry. 

it's foolish, really, because satoru hasn't missed a single detail about you since he was seventeen. 

he doesn't say anything, but it's a natural reflex to tap your legs, to stand and slip off his shoes, gently pushing you off of the edge of the bed, towards the middle. 

and then he's laying there, curling his limbs around yours, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. 

immediately, there's a release somewhere inside of him. that yearning--that ridiculous need is finally satiated. 

satoru swallows. he needs to say something, he knows, but he's not sure what. should he apologize right now? should he tell you that he hates it when you cry--that he never feels more desperate to be more than in moments like this? 

should he whisper that he loves you, just to get it off his chest? 

but you cough, body shuttering as you relax into him, never pushing him away. and your voice is so small when you say, "you can't leave." 

satoru feels the pieces of him crack into even more. 

he tries to hold you tighter, but you move in his hold, turning so that you're facing him, and you nuzzle your face into his neck--trying to hide, but making sure that he's there. 

your hands cling onto him, leaving marks.

he can feel your tears against his skin, your entire body on overdrive. 

"you can't leave," you repeat, voice breaking. satoru feels it against the very outline of his soul. 

"okay," he says, quickly. "i won't." 

"i can't lose you too." 

he pales, body going still. his heart might stop for a moment. "you won't. i'm not going anywhere." he sighs. "i'm sorry." 

"i can't--" you're still crying, and you begin to shake again. "i can't do this without you. i won't." 

"you don't have to." 

"you can't leave, satoru," you say, leaning up to meet his eyes--yours glistening with years full of hurt, a lifetime of secrets and unsaid words. "please don't leave." 

"i won't," he repeats, feeling a bit desperate. what can he say to prove to you that he's not like everyone else? that he would trap you within his atoms, if he could? that he would stay in this bed, holding you, even if it meant nothing, forever? 

there's nothing, he knows. nothing but the truth. but that doesn't come out--it can't, now. it's not the right time. 

so instead, satoru wipes the tears from your face, even though they're replaced immediately, your breath coming in short, short bursts. he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you back to him again. 

"i'm sorry," you whisper against his skin, so quietly that he can barely hear it. 

"i'm not going anywhere," he answers. 

and, just for tonight, it's enough. 

he'll fix the rest of it tomorrow. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[hiveswap]

Summary of The Cat of The Year poll atrocities of 2023/2024

I'm sure that most people on this side of tumblr have seen the Jellie vs. Nefarious Anglerfish poll going around with like 60k votes at this point, and I'd really like clear up some of what happened since I was around for the whole thing.

Url blocked out for op's privacy. They have already left but don't look for it if you haven't seen it/don't harrass them if you already have.

1. The previous round (preparation)

I discovered the poll in its previous round, needless to say she beat Jort's ass severely. This was around the 3rd of january, meaning that this round finished before jellie's passing with only about 7k votes. Op did add their own piece of propaganda from their main:

...which was FINE. (except for stuff we'll see later) Of course running a poll while biased isn't ideal but I for one didn't even know they were the op until much later. I also added my own piece in a separate thread, and they didn't interact with it at all. There was no drama.

2. The Finale

Jellie unfortunately passed away right before the starting of this poll, which was the catalyst for what happened next. Op did exactly as last time and added a slightly more mean spirited encouragement to vote for the other contestant. This is the point where I believe that i fucked up personally.

I added this thinkpiece accusing op of associating all mcyters with Dream (who we all hate for the record) despite them not alluding to him at all. This is because tumblr has a history of disimissing all mcyters as... everything that dream was been accused of. Op did allude to not caring for mcyt. but they didn't say what i accused them of. This is important to point out because this reblog of mine is still being spread. Jellie was in the lead at the time, but not by the time i woke up next morning.

I won't be including anyone else's additions because I don't want to put blame on any specific person. Just felt like clearing up mine.

3. The Fuckening

Some time later op made this post to their personal blog:

which is insanely shitty because, as other people have pointed out, the "lame ass youtube cat" didn't die to inconvinience op or ruin their fun, and people would have probably voted for her anyway because jelly is universally beloved in the mcyt community. This isn't anti democratic. This post was added to the poll with a caption saying op should not be running this poll, and it took off. Op later went on to say that this was a joke:

This apology was not taken well by people, (including me) because "you were not meant to see it" isn't an apology and they still very much made fun of someone's pet dying. Safe to say this did not make the drama stop and only added fuel to the flame. I believe this was the point where the conversation of mcyt fans being unjustly sent hate to was reignited.

We should discuss that! it's a real thing that happens often and is equal to childish bullying. However, in this case, OP was the only one getting sent hate to my knowledge. The notes were mostly saturated by mcyt fans, and even now i can only find one or two hateful stance towards us under the whole 20k notes post.

4. Conclusions

Op posted a second apology to the catoftheyear blog to try and calm people down (i believe this is comprehensive and a lot better than the previous one) The blog was deactivated shortly after, so i only have my phone screenshots of it that i also added to the poll itself at some point:

(Edit) Here's proof that op did not write the justification they got criticised for, from the notes of the original poll:

This apology didn't get seen, or get accepted by enough people, so op made this statement on their personal:

Needless to say I am deeply dissapointed (and guilty) that it's come to this. Yes, op said tasteless things that made us all angry, but telling a human being to commit suicide is worse than being insensitive about a stranger's pet dying. Even after I posted about the blog being decatived i had someone come into my notes to wish that "they never find happiness" i mean wtf. This isn't like shipping where we can do whatever without the content creator's input. this is fucking harrowing and i can't imagine how i'd feel if this was done in my/my pet's name especially after losing them as recently as a week ago.

I hope no one from hermitcraft who is on here (let alone scar holy shit) learns about this like they did with previous lighthearted tournaments. If you truly respect the creators you claim to be a fan of as people, you do not tell people to kill themselves over them. And finally, let Jellie fucking rest, guys. she had a long, good life. I hope op can come back and also avoids behaving like this if they ever wish to do so. I'm angrier at mcytblr, though.

[webslingingslasher]

IM GLAD YOURE GOOD <333

also whilst we’re here. you know how girls get scary horny right before their periods? like i need to be tied to a tree like a wolf when im ab to get mine JDJDJDJ

peters never had a gf before trouble and the first time it happens he fr thinks he’s in HEAVEN. he doesn’t understand but she’s just on him 24/7 and he’s living for it. but also confused bc he can’t think of what he’s done differently to have u pouncing on him 24/7 but he’s not complaining djdjdnd

BOYFRIEND FRAT!PETER LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO

-i've literally had this done for like two months but i got scared and let it collect dust. not anymore bby!!!-

for the fourth time today, peter tilted his shoulder towards his face to sniff his shirt. it smells just fine, it's clean cotton. he didn't get a new fabric softener so it couldn't be that, and it's not like he got a new cologne or soap.

peter couldn't place it, but something about him lately has you absolutely feral. especially today, he almost had to peel you away from his skin so he could go to class.

'i missed you so much,' you moved quicker than peter's ever seen, his feet haven't even come to a stop on the pavement before you're kissing him.

it becomes more sensual than he's willing to provide in public.

'it was an hour, trouble. what'd you do, wait for me?' peter meant it in a teasing way, he didn't expect you to nod quickly. 'yes. you're about to open your instagram to thirty messages, i'm so sorry.'

your palms race over his arms, something about him seems ultra soft today. in the least joking way possible, he really does feel like boyfriend material. and he was all yours.

'did you know i love you? like, so much.' he did, but he still loves to have a reminder. 'i love you so much it's uncool.' you've got a glazed look in your eye.

peter knows that look and if he's being honest, he's done nothing to deserve it. the last two days you haven't been able to keep your hands off him.

is this what people mean by the honeymoon phase?

'i love you too, trouble. what's got you so mushy recently?'

puffed cheeks, no regard and absolutely no reason to hold back. 'i just really wanna fuck you.' peter takes a sharp breath, something about you being bold makes his knees weak. it must be his desire to please.

'i would, i really, really would...' with gentle scratches up and down the back of your arm, you know he's setting you up for a no. you whine and pout up at him.

'no! you're not allowed! just say yes, please say yes!'

it's literally tearing him up inside. 'baby, i'm already going to be late for my library session. i also have a chapter meeting tonight.'

'do you really-'

'yes.' there was no way he'd be budging on that one. peter made you know you were number one priority, frat responsibilities sat right under you.

if he was suggesting you'd have to wait until late, or worse, the next day, you'd die.

'what about after the library? before the meeting?'

peter's never seen you so persistent. he really doesn't know what he's done, but he won't complain one bit. he'll be a little crunched for time, but that's no reason to let you down.

'if we use your dorm, yes, i think we can make it work.'

peter’s forced to balance himself, you attacked him with a bear hug and nuzzled into his chest. ‘thank you, thank you, thank you! i’ll tell my roommate right now!’

seconds tick. he’s already late and you’re not moving, keeping him in your grasp while your thumbs fly across your phone to send out a message.

‘trouble, you’re making me late.’ because you’d be offended if he pushed you away.

a finger is held up, ramped texting takes priority. ‘trouble,’ the second you feel yourself pushed to the side you huff up at him. 'don't toss me off to the side like i'm some toy, i'm your girlfriend.'

'you're not a toy, you're just not listening, therefore making me late.'

your arms cross over your chest, 'fine. whatever, go.' peter is nowhere in the wrong, but you're making him feel like he is. if this was before, he could just walk away. but now, he has to pause and address your concerns.

he's still adjusting to boyfriend duties.

'don't get mad with me, i'm being very nice.' he is, he even let you gently bully him into getting him into your room in an hour and a half. you hold your stance, it takes a few seconds, but he catches on.

'you're not mad, you're pouty. don't be pouty, you're gonna see me in an hour.'

a toddler grumble, 'i'm gonna miss you too much.'

peter really doesn't know where the sudden desperation came from, he really needs to check in with you, but if he's any later, he's gonna piss off a whole room of people.

'i'll miss you too, trouble.' it appeases you enough, you finally allow him to pass. peter isn't able to go a full three steps until you tell him to wait, he realizes his mistake.

'sorry, c'mere.' three quick kisses, you make it hard to pull away. 'love you,' he allows you to sneak another kiss. 'love you too, petey.'

—-

one thing you loved about peter was that he was always on time, at least for you he was. just like he promised, he was at your door an hour and a half later with a hand on his stomach.

‘i’m missing dinner for this, i could be having a nice catered meal with the boys, but no, it wasn’t allowed.’

‘that’s very kind of you, handsome.’

‘i just needed to let you know, you know, in case i go lethargic or my stomach starts growling.’

‘as long as you don’t pass out on top of me, gerald’s game scared me.’ peter holds his fingers up in a scouts honor, ‘i promise.’ it’s all it takes, you reach for his shirt, clenching the fabric, you tug him in. shutting the door and slamming him against it, your lips on his in a minute.

peter’s mind is spinning, he’s never been pushed up against a wall. it feels nice, it’s a good feeling to know someone wants him so badly a tinge of aggression comes with it.

your kisses trail over his jawline, you’ve never been so desperately horny in your entire life, something about him has you dialed to ten recently. it could be the impending period, but that just feels like a fraction of the reason.

feeling slightly guilty you’ve ruined his meal plan, you pull back, just for a second to rip his shirt off. when his skin is shown, your hands race over it, he’s toned, and tanned, and down right delicious.

you scatter kisses over his chest, peering up at him. ‘are they saving you a plate?’ peter looks down, he’s lost at your words. you’re asking about plates while worshiping his body?

‘huh?’ a trail of wet marks across his collarbone.

‘dinner. are they saving you a plate?’

how do you expect him to answer while you nibble a bruise on the bottom of his neck? ‘i don’t…’ peter takes a sharp inhale, he never knew he had a sweet spot until you found it. it’s behind his ear, and he has to lean down, just slightly, but it’s so, so worth it.

‘i don’t know, probably not. guys don’t think about stuff like that.’

you pull away with a pop, raising your thumb to brush over the red mark. ‘hold on,’ you turn for your phone abandoned on your bed, on the walk over you take your own shirt off.

it’s a quick text and a quicker response, your guilty conscience cleared. ‘done. ethan said he’ll save you one.’

‘my hero.’

you jump to your bed, shimmying your pants off before sitting up on your knees, you get into position, shaking your hips at your boyfriend before arching slightly.

‘are we thinking doggy?’

peter’s still stuck to the door, ‘you wanna start with doggy? what happened to foreplay?’

you move to your back to tug your underwear off, you were only following his words. ‘you said we would be strapped for time, i’m making it easier.’

‘by blowing past the most important thing and having me jam it into you?’

you narrow your eyes at him, ‘once upon a time you didn’t care about foreplay.’

‘that’s old peter, he’s dead.’

‘let’s revive him.’

peter finally steps away from the door, he feels ten times warmer. his arms move around like he’s trying to clear the air, ‘alright, hold on, we need to talk.’

four words that are forced to put the night on pause, he could wait for a heart to heart after. ‘let’s not.’ you reach for his jeans, he steps out of reach. ‘peter! you were the one that said it would be a time crunch, i’m doing my best here, let’s go.’

‘not until you tell me why you’re so possessive lately. this whole week, you can’t get enough of me. what’s going on?’

peter’s starting to think you have some doubts running through your head and if you have enough of yourself to him he’d stick around. it’s a bogus idea but you’ve done it before to him, maybe it’s worse because there’s more to lose now with the title.

‘i’m horny.’ there wasn’t much else to add. he’s just made you wildly needy this entire week, but peter wasn't buying it. with crossed arms he waited until you really told him what was going on.

you groan, the quicker you explain, the quicker you get what you wanted. 'fine, what do you know about the menstrual cycle?'

'as little as possible.' while he's slightly more knowledgeable than most men his age, everything he's learned has been against his will.

'great. i just got off mine two weeks ago, i'm ovulating, aka, my body wants a baby real bad. not just any baby, your baby, that's why i'm so horny for you.' you hope it's enough to appease him, you shuffle around on the bed.

'fucking in this bed sucks.' there's little room for peter but you did what you could with the space you had. 'also, expect this monthly. cause, it's gonna be your problem now that you're my boyfriend.'

peter breathes deep, 'that has got to be... the best problem i've ever had in my entire life.' peter moves so quickly your head spins, he's on his knees in front of the bed while you're pulled to the edge.

kisses up the inside of your thigh has you pulling at his hair, 'peter, you're gonna be late.' you suck in hair as he nibbles on your skin. 'we don't have time for this.'

it pauses him, peter looks up into your eyes, a cocky smirk forms. 'my girl has a primal urge, and it's my job to take care of it.' 

[endless-ineffabilities]

So High School (2/2)

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : the one wherein the reader and Bucky navigate the initial stages of falling in love, and well, it feels a whole lot like high school <3

themes : friends to lovers, jealousy, tension, mutual pining, fluff, everyone is alive!

word count : 4.3k ▪︎ masterlist ▪︎ part one

Bucky hears you laugh from inside your room, and it immediately lightens something in him. It helps, because the past few days haven't been great.

He hasn’t seen you since the night of his date. The next day, he thought he spotted you leaving the gym right when he walked in, but before he could catch up, you were gone. That felt like a punch to the gut, but he told himself he'd find you later.

Except, he didn’t.

You were ‘out’ according to the others, and for the next few days, it was the same thing. 

It's not you're dating or anything, Steve pointed out. She doesn't owe you her days.

Whatever, Bucky thought. The idea that you were too busy for him didn’t feel right. Maybe it was childish, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t like missing you.

Everything was better when you were around – when you flashed him a smile, even if it was for no reason at all. And now it feels like you’re avoiding him, and he can’t figure out why.

Another burst of laughter from your room pulls him back to the present. He raises his fist to knock on your door but pauses when he hears another voice. Another person’s laugh. 

You have a guy in there with you. Bucky freezes, hand hovering mid-air, but he quickly collects himself and knocks harder than he meant to. It's a relief he didn't use his vibranium arm, or he'll be doing some explaining to Tony.

Inside, the laughter stops. As it should. He hears FRIDAY announce his arrival.

“One sec,” you call out, and then, a soft, playful, “No, don’t – wait!” You laugh again.

You open the door with a smile that falters when you see Bucky. 

“Hey, Buck,” you greet, sounding surprised. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bucky hesitates, eyes flicking past you into the room. The question slips out before he can stop it. “You got someone in there with you?”

Before you can answer, a gust of wind moves past you, and suddenly, Pietro Maximoff is leaning against the doorframe, his arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“Good morning, James,” Pietro says with that slight accent of his, flashing a grin. Bucky’s jaw clenches at how close Pietro is to you.

This – this – is what has kept you so busy? Hanging out with Pietro. His gut twists. Don’t you already spend enough time with the damn speedster?

You notice his reaction, quickly explaining, “We’re just playing video games. The new GTA came out, and Pietro introduced me to it, so we’ve been – ”

“Alone?” Bucky interrupts, immediately wishing he hadn’t. Of course, alone. You just said it was only the two of you.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, slightly confused. “During our downtime.”

“You can join us if you want, James,” Pietro offers smoothly, stepping back to make room for him.

You hum in agreement, looking at Bucky with those soft, inviting eyes that he can never say no to. But the thought of sitting there, watching you and Pietro joke and laugh together, feels like too much. He’s not sure he could handle it without snapping.

He wants to storm right in there, and stake his claim, like some sort of caveman.

He wants to, and he knows it's ridiculous.

You're not his.

“Uh, I actually have to help Steve with something,” he lies, taking a step back.

Your face falls slightly. You looked disappointed at that. But why? Shouldn't you be glad to spend more alone time with Pietro? “Oh. Well, another time, then?”

“Yeah, another time,” he mutters, waving awkwardly as he turns to leave. He’s only made it a few steps down the hall when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Wait, Buck,” you say, stopping him. “Why’d you come by?”

He's stumped, because why did he? He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice, he wanted to stare at your face until you frown at him and tell him he’s being weird.

“I just wanted to say hi,” he says, though it feels empty compared to what he’s actually feeling. “I haven’t seen you around.”

You smile at that. “Well, hello.”

“Hi.” He's so down bad, because it's just that - just hello - and his heartbeat is doing somersaults.

You start to walk backward, that damned smile still gracing your lips. “Okay, then. I'll see you around, Bucky.”

Before you turn, you pause. “Oh, by the way, how did your date go? You never told me.”

It’s strange. He’d almost forgotten about the date. He didn’t care much about it at the time, and now, it feels even more irrelevant. But you’re standing there, waiting for an answer, so he shrugs.

“It was... alright. She was alright. But I don’t think we’ll be going out again.”

Your expression softens. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Why were you sorry? Did you want him to go on another date? Were you just fine with him being with someone else? Bucky's worried thoughts came flooding right in.

“Don’t be,” Bucky says, more honestly than anything else he’s said today. “I’ve got my eye on someone else.”

For a brief second, your face falters, but you recover so quickly that he almost doesn’t catch it. Almost.

“Okay, then,” you say, your voice a little quieter now. “I’ll see you later.”

You thought you kept your face blank as you walked back in your room, but maybe you've never been the best at pretending, because Pietro immediately corners you with, “What's wrong? It's James, isn't it?”

You sigh dramatically, “Yes... yes it is. Can never hide anything from you, Pietro.”

“Oh, please. I can literally see the tiniest switches in your expression before you even fully realise it.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch, beckoning to you. “Come here, tell Uncle Pietro what's wrong.”

You breathe out a laugh at his silliness, plopping down on the couch in a huff, “Well, Uncle Pietro, I think I may have hinted at this to you before but I – ” 

“ – like James.”

“Y-yes,” you say nervously, the confession enough to speed up your heartbeat. You had been planning to say this to Bucky, and make clear to him what everyone already sees, until he took someone else on a date. Your spirits were crushed, and instead of doubling down and swallowing your pride, you decided to steer clear of him for the time being.

“He likes you, too,” Pietro says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You frown. “He flirts, but that’s just how he is.”

“No, sweetheart,” Pietro laughs, “to everyone else, he's like a grumpy old cat. When he saw me in here, I could swear he was ready to claw my eyes out. He would never catch me of course – ” you roll your eyes at that remark “ – but my point is, that grumpy old cat was jealous.”

“Of us?” you shake your head at how ridiculous it sounds. Pietro's always been like a brother to you, and Bucky would know that, if he chose to spend time with the both of you now and again.

But no. Every time he finds you with him, he's always had an excuse readily mumbled under his breath.

Pietro nods. “Jealous as hell. He probably doesn’t even know about Irina.”

“Your girlfriend?” You furrow your brow. “I guess not. He never sticks around long enough when we’re together.”

“Can't really share anything with Bionic Man because he always glares at me. Thanks to you.”

“How is that my fault?”

“You should make it clear that there's nothing going on between us.” Pietro slings his arm around you as a gesture of comfort. “And you should tell him how you feel.”

“Easier said than done,” you mumble. “Last time we spoke, he went on a date with someone else.”

Pietro responds nonchalantly, “Do you even know how that went? I bet he thought about you the whole time.”

That takes you back to the last thing Bucky said to you, giving rise to a mixture of excitement and apprehension. “Apparently he's interested in someone else.”

“Well, I'll be damned, sweetheart. He means you!”

You want to believe it. But wouldn’t Bucky have told you by now? Why is everything with him so complicated?

“What should I do?” you ask, almost to yourself.

He laughs freely, with the intention of placating your worries. All this unrequited love reminds him of those cheesy high school couples from the movies Wanda loves. He grew to like them, too, but he doesn't need to tell his beloved sister that.

“I think,” he exhales loudly, gearing up to share his advice, “that you two should get your shit together and finally get together.”

Even though you know he's right, with the most sarcastic tone you can muster, you say, “Thanks a lot, Piet.”

He shrugs, “Hey, I'm just saying. I'm sure everyone will agree with me.”

“Whatever,” you shrug, feigning ignorance at what is apparently the most obvious thing in the world. That is, except to you and Bucky. “Let's just play.”

You pick up your controller again, playfully nudging his side. The next hour passes relatively calmly, though filled with profanities shouted at the screen.

Your character robs a bank, steals a helicopter, buys a million-dollar mansion. But such heightened scenarios are not enough to distract you from thinking about him.

Your mind keeps wandering back to Bucky – how he went out of his way to see you, how he seemed jealous of Pietro, how he looked at you when he said he’s got his eye on someone else.

Maybe Pietro’s right. Maybe it’s time you stopped dancing around this.

Meanwhile, Bucky, in an attempt to clear his head, finds himself in the hangar with Steve, working on their motorbikes. Tools are scattered everywhere, but so are Bucky's thoughts.

“Buck, pass me that wrench,” Steve calls out, but Bucky’s mind is elsewhere, staring off into space.

“Bucky!” Steve calls again, louder this time. “The wrench.”

Bucky nearly startles, but he just ends up glaring at Steve. “Here you go, punk.” He hands him the wrench, but with that same blank expression on his face.

“Alright,” Steve sighs after a few moments, standing in front of Bucky with his arms crossed, “what's the matter with you?”

Bucky hesitates, but the frustration boils over. “Why is she always with him?”

Steve blinks. “With who?”

Bucky scoffs, “The white-haired guy who runs fast.”

Steve stares at his best friend for a second, then bursts out laughing. This is the man who faced down Nazis, HYDRA, and alien invaders. This is the guy who survived decades as a brainwashed assassin. And yet, the sight of you hanging out with Pietro has reduced him to a sulky teenager.

“Pietro, Buck,” Steve chides. “The guy's got a name. But you already know it.”

“Yeah. Him. What does she see in him?”

Steve shrugs, biting back another laugh. “Maybe she likes a guy who can make things happen quickly.”

There’s a pause as Bucky gives him the world’s flattest look. He crosses his arms, a faint scowl settling on his face. “This isn’t funny, Steve.”

Steve sets down the rag he’s been using to clean his hands, sighing. “It’s obvious, Buck. They’re just friends. You’re the one she likes.”

Steve tries to rein it in, clearing his throat. “Alright, alright. But seriously, she’s not into Pietro.”

"Could've fooled me."

Bucky’s head snaps up, a flash of surprise on his face. “What makes you think that?”

Steve crosses his arms now, mirroring Bucky. “C’mon, don’t tell me the guy with the sniper instincts can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head. “You’re imagining things. She’s always with him. They’re always laughing. I mean, they spend so much time together, it’s like… What the hell am I supposed to think?”

“Look, Buck,” Steve begins, his voice more patient now. “You ever notice how when you walk into a room, her whole face lights up? She could be laughing with Pietro or Nat or anyone else, but when you show up, she’s different.”

Bucky opens his mouth to object, but Steve holds up a hand, cutting him off.

“She likes you, Buck,” Steve continues, leaning back against the wall now, more serious. “But if you keep acting like a brick wall and making excuses, she’s gonna think you don’t feel the same. You gotta talk to her before you lose your chance.”

Bucky’s silent for a moment, staring at the ground. He’s never been great at this kind of thing. Before the war, it was easy – go to a dance, flirt a little, share a drink or two. That was it. But this? His feelings for you aren’t simple. They’re big, overwhelming, and he’s terrified of messing everything up. 

He's about to grumble something in response when Sam walks in, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere he's just stumbled into.

“Y’all still messing with these bikes? I thought super-soldiers were supposed to be efficient.” Sam pauses, glancing between Steve and Bucky with a smirk. “What’s up? Bucky got another life crisis?”

Steve snorts. “Something like that.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Mind your business, Wilson.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, clearly sensing the tension. “Oh, this is about her, isn’t it? You still haven’t asked her out?”

Bucky groans. “Not you too.”

“I bet you’re doing that thing,” Sam continues, “where you’re all moody and brooding, thinking too much and not doing anything. You know, like you always do.”

“Wilson – ”

“Nope, don’t even try it. You know I’m right.” Sam smirks, leaning in like he’s got the upper hand. “You gotta make a move, Barnes. Like, yesterday.”

Bucky glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You ever stop talking?”

Sam shrugs. “Not when I’m right.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he watches Bucky storm toward the exit, determination finally setting in.

As Bucky reaches the door, Sam calls out one last parting shot. “Remember, she likes you, man! Just try not to screw it up!”

Bucky flips him off without turning around, but his steps quicken.

“He’s gonna screw it up, isn’t he?” Sam grins, turning to Steve.

Steve smiles softly. “Not this time.”

Bucky isn’t sure why he’s ended up in the compound’s common room, but here he is, sitting stiffly on the couch, his metal hand resting tensely on the armrest. Steve’s words keep replaying in his mind like a command he can’t shake off: She’s into you.

He doesn’t know what to do with that. His emotions are wound tight – he’s not used to feeling this off balance. Not over someone else. And yet, here he is, feeling like he’s losing a fight he didn’t even know he was in.

Footsteps behind him break his train of thought, but he doesn’t turn around. He already knows who it is.

“Barnes,” Clint drawls lazily, strolling into the room, eyeing Bucky’s tense posture. “You look like you're one bad joke away from snapping this coffee table in half.”

Bucky barely acknowledges him, staring at the TV without really seeing it. “Not in the mood, Barton.”

“Clearly,” Clint mutters, dropping into the chair opposite him and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “This about her?”

Well damn, does everyone know?

Bucky’s jaw tightens. Clint isn’t someone he usually talks to about this kind of stuff, but the guy has some sixth sense for sniffing out trouble.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky says, his voice low but tight.

“Right. Sure you don’t,” Clint shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “Listen, man, it’s pretty obvious. I mean, I’m no super soldier, but even I can see that she’s been on your mind. And for the record, she’s not with Pietro right now.”

Bucky’s brow furrows at that. He hasn’t asked, but apparently, Clint’s seen right through him. Again. “Wasn’t worried about Pietro.”

Clint snorts. “Yeah, okay. Sure. That’s why you look like someone kicked your dog every time they’re in the same room.”

Bucky shoots him a sharp look, but before he can respond, you walk into the room, unaware of the conversation you’re about to walk into. You’re holding a mug of coffee, your hair slightly damp, a relaxed smile on your face. 

Immediately, Bucky feels his chest tightening at the sight, his heart going into overdrive. 

“Oh, hey,” you say, your eyes landing on Bucky with a flicker of surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Clint grins, clearly sensing the tension. “Well, I’m gonna go... do literally anything else.” He stands up, gives Bucky a quick slap on the shoulder, and makes his exit, leaving the room feeling somehow smaller.

You glance between the door and Bucky, your expression uncertain. “Everything okay?”

Bucky takes a breath, trying to steady himself. He doesn’t want to play games anymore, and he sure as hell isn’t going to beat around the bush. Steve’s words, Clint’s comments – they’re like a push he didn’t know he needed. An annoying push, but anyway. 

“Depends,” Bucky says, his tone firm but not harsh. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. “Are we good?”

You blink, surprised by the directness. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Bucky starts, shifting to stand up, his tall frame casting a shadow over you, “I feel like we’ve been avoiding each other. And I don’t like it, doll.”

Your brows furrow, and you look genuinely puzzled. “I’m not avoiding you, Buck. I’ve just been – ”

“Busy?” he cuts in. “I know. I get it. But you’ve been ‘busy’ a lot lately.” He steps closer, the intensity in his eyes making your pulse quicken. “And every time I try to talk to you, you’re not there.”

You’re quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling between you. “I didn’t realise you felt that way.”

Bucky lets out a breath, running his hand through his hair. “I’m not mad,” he says, his voice softening. “I just don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us.”

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. “Like… what kind?”

“The kind where I think I’m losing you to someone else,” Bucky admits, the honesty in his words hitting hard. But his tone isn’t desperate, just clear, like a man who’s finally decided to stop tiptoeing around the truth.

Your eyes widen, your face lighting up as you process his words. “Bucky… there’s no one else.”

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you’re holding back. “So what’s going on then? Why does it feel like you’ve been keeping your distance?”

You swallow, your eyes flicking away for a second before coming back to his. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. After you went on that date – ” 

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “That date?” He almost laughs, shaking his head slightly. “That date was a disaster. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the whole time.”

The confession hangs in the air between you, and Bucky steps closer again, closing the gap between you. 

“You’ve been on my mind for so long, and I didn’t know how to deal with it,” he says quietly, his voice low but certain. “But I’m not going to make excuses anymore. I want this –” he motions between the two of you, “ – to be clear. No more avoiding each other. No more guessing.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. “And what if I want the same thing?” you ask, your voice just above a whisper.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of Bucky’s mouth, the first real sign of relief he’s felt in days. “Then I guess we stop pretending we don’t.”

For a moment, the world outside the room doesn’t exist. It’s just the two of you, standing close, the tension finally lifting as something else settles into place – something that’s been building for far too long.

Bucky’s eyes soften as he reaches out, his fingers cradling the side of your face. “You good with that, beautiful?”

You nod, a small smile breaking through as you look up at him. “Yeah. I’m good with that.”

A week later…

The common room is empty, the early evening sun casting a warm, golden light across the space. Bucky’s metal arm is cool against your waist, his other hand tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer to him on the couch, lips hot against yours. His kisses are insistent, hungry, like he’s trying to make up for all the time he spent keeping his distance.

You let out a soft laugh, gently pushing against his chest. "Buck, slow down. What if someone walks in?"

He pulls back just enough to give you a breath, but his blue eyes are dark, filled with that neediness you've grown to adore. His voice is low, almost a growl. "Don’t care. Let 'em."

You roll your eyes, trying not to give in to how badly you want him too. “I care. You’re acting like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

His lips curve into a smirk, though there’s a hint of a whine in his tone when he responds. “Not like this, I haven’t.” He ducks his head back down, brushing his lips over your jaw, your neck, causing your heart to race. “C’mon, doll. Just a little longer.”

“Bucky,” you manage to say, “I’m serious. You know Clint has terrible timing, and if Sam – ”

“I’ll take them both down, baby,” Bucky mutters against your skin, his hands tightening on your waist as he presses himself closer to you, almost like he's trying to meld into you. “Let me have this.”

You shake your head, unable to hold back the grin tugging at your lips. “You're ridiculous.”

“Can’t help it. You’re too sweet. Been wanting this for too damn long.”

His honesty makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something so raw in the way he looks at you, and it sends warmth flooding through your entire body. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, laughing softly, giving in a little as your fingers trace the lines of his jaw. “Just... keep it down, alright?”

Bucky doesn’t need any more encouragement. He crashes his lips to yours again, and you melt into the kiss, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, his body pressing you back against the couch. 

“You’re not making it easy.” His voice drops lower, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “Don’t want to stop.”

“Bucky,” you warn, but your own resolve is crumbling fast. It’s hard to act like you don’t love this – the way he wants you, how eager he is, and how every time you pull away, he looks like he might lose his mind. “I’m not kidding. If we get caught – ”

The door to the common room swings open with a bang. You both freeze mid-kiss, your heart stopping as Steve and Tony walk in, mid-conversation.

Time slows to a crawl.

Steve's the first to notice you, and the moment his eyes land on the two of you tangled up on the couch, his entire face turns a deep shade of red.

“Oh, uh…” Steve stammers, shifting awkwardly as if trying to find the right words. “We didn’t mean to – ”

Tony, however, takes all of two seconds to assess the situation before his mouth curls into a wicked grin. “Well, well, well. Isn’t this cozy.” He claps his hands, clearly amused. "Barnes, didn’t know you had it in you, buddy."

Bucky groans under his breath, slowly detaching himself from you, but he doesn’t move far. His arm still lingers on your waist, like he’s not ready to let go just yet. You, on the other hand, are desperately trying to smooth your hair and fix your shirt, willing yourself to sink into the couch and disappear.

Steve clears his throat. “Sorry, guys. We didn't mean to interrupt.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes unwavering. "Interrupt? It looked like Barnes was going to have to reimburse me for a new couch after what they’re about to do on this one.”

Bucky gives Tony an exasperated look, but there's a hint of pride in his smirk as he tightens his grip on your waist. “You’re hilarious, Stark,” Bucky deadpans, but there's a twinkle in his eye that shows he’s not as annoyed as he pretends to be.

“Seriously, guys, can we not make this a thing?” you chime in, cheeks burning with embarrassment. You’re trying to play it cool, but Tony’s relentless grin isn’t helping.

“Oh, but it is a thing now,” Tony says, waggling his eyebrows and reaching for his phone. “The Bionic Staring Man’s got himself a girlfriend and thought the common room was the place for... extracurricular activities.”

Bucky’s grip on you tightens, his voice low with a hint of a growl. “You take one picture, Stark, and you’re gonna find out how fast I can break that phone.”

Tony waves him off dismissively, completely unbothered by the threat. “Calm down, Terminator. I’m just documenting this historic moment. For science.”

Steve, clearly done with the conversation, shoots Tony a sharp look. “Tony, come on. Let’s just leave them alone.”

“Fine, fine,” Tony says, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But this isn't the last you're hearing about this.” He winks at you both and heads for the door. “You two lovebirds behave yourselves. Or don’t. I really don’t care.”

The door clicks shut, and you and Bucky are left alone again. For a moment, the room is completely silent, the ridiculousness of what just happened hanging in the air.

Then, you both burst out laughing.

Bucky leans his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Yeah,” you gasp between giggles, wiping at your eyes. “Next time, let’s not pick the common room.”

“Noted.” He leans in, his lips brushing yours softly, but there’s still that needy edge in his touch. “But, uhh, I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Seriously? After that?”

He shrugs, the cocky smile returning. “Can’t help it. My girlfriend is a right ol’ dime.”

You roll your eyes, but pull him – your boyfriend – back in for another kiss. 

He pulls away for a moment, only to say something that makes your whole world stop. 

“I’m so in love with you…”

taglist 💙 (commented on part 1): @asha-rahiro @ordelixx @sarah1barnes @geovana37 @cherrybitchh222 @tenderly-hopeful-devastating @cjand10 @dreamybabbyy @bxckybxrnes24 @blackhawkfanatic @buckyb-stan @ze-j @reputationgf-recs @chaotic-wanda @blackwidownat2814 @buckysbaby-doll @thebuckybarnesvault

[sarahreesbrennan]

Thank you for writing Long Live Evil.

I'm no cancer survivor, so I haven't been through the horror that that must've been, congratulations to enduring and surviving, and my sincere condolences that you had to go through it.

But I am chronically ill (cystic fibrosis, genetic defect) and have so far lived for 5 years longer than my prognosis allowed. My health's been good and stabile for a long time now, but I remember times where I couldn't walk alone, had a 18/6 nasal cannula and a 24-hour IV drip instead of school or a future.

Now I'm working at university, an archaeologist, chipping away at writing stories for years and years, and incredibly glad and privileged to see the world. All this to say that seeing how hurt Rae was in the beginning (and again throughout the story, while also never truly forgetting her true roots and motives) and how she grew around it like a gnarled tree, was like catharsis for me. Having miraculously given a second chance, no matter how hard the fight to keep it will be; I haven't ever read any story talking about this in a way that made me feel seen and understood like this. Thank you also lots and lots for taking the time to mention Rae's appreciation for Rahela's curves — it's been the same for me, since I've managed to get out of the underweight-trap. It means a lot to me, and I guess to many others in similar situations, including you of course. Thank you for sharing this with us, it must've been hard to touch on a deeply personal experience like this in writing that's simultaneously removed from oneself through fiction (at least that's what I'm imagining).

Thank you, and I wish you nothing but the best, health, and lots of good days to come. Deeply curious to see how Rae's story will continue!

Thank you so much for this.

I am so glad you are alive. Thank you for that, too - for living on even when you couldn’t see a way forward and everything was helpless despair.

I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, either, but it’s a privilege to have shared adjoining experiences trapped in darkness, and to share gladness and the wide world with you now. I’m so sorry it happened, and so happy you have archaeology and stories, and the world has you.

I will be totally honest and say it has been hard sharing Long Live Evil with the world, and I’m so grateful to you for knowing that, and for sending this message because you knew. This book is highly personal to me, but it’s also meant to be a wild celebration of messiness, escapism, and finding humour in art and darkness. And that means to some it’s just a joke, and in the words of Joanna Russ, ‘she’s not really an artist and it’s not really art.’ And so it gets dismissed, and it does hurt to see my most important story dismissed sometimes.

I was with other writers in a public space at one point and they were talking about how their books were about serious issues while ‘Sarah’s book is just for fun, and that’s fine too!’ (I had to take a minute before I could lean into my microphone and say ‘My book is about cancer’ in a cheery tone.) I’ve seen readers saying ‘this book’s just fluff, just silly, I’m ashamed of myself for reading it, there’s nothing to it’ about the book I wrote about almost dying.

My Rae, while of course she has bits of me in her (every character I’ve ever written does), and evil queens I’ve loved, and characters with wild hubris going on in the Greek plays I mention often in the book, and readers I’ve seen and I’ve been who are blithely confident they know what’s going on without doing more than surface reading and while forgetting key details… she’s also bits of women and girls I’ve mentored, been mentored by, befriended. And some of them are dead. So seeing the bits that were them particularly scorned or judged, seeing her pain dismissed or the discussion of her body sneered at…

That has been hard.

But.

In the end I believe I am really an artist and this book is really art, and art is there for the wide world to judge - to be mocked and dismissed, yes, as a price that comes with the opportunity to also be truly seen and appreciated, to get to influence real people’s real lives. Art is the gold that comes from the crucible in which we put all our pain and all our love and all our joys. I believe it deepens and transforms.

I wrote this book about how deeply unsympathetic people actually are to sufferers of illness, chronic or otherwise, and especially to women expressing pain. How the world villainises imperfect victims—which means all victims. How the world villainises bodies, and robs us of our joy in them—even when there’s horror in a body, too. I did know that by putting this book out into this world, that attitude would be reflected back by the world onto the book. And that attitude has hurt me in the past, and hurts me when I see it now.

I still think it’s worth calling out that attitude, even if it means getting more of that attitude reflected back onto me - because it means readers like you see it, and know others have been through this, and it was never okay, and you were never alone. While I know there will also be readers with chronic illnesses and/or cancer whose experience doesn’t overlap with mine at all, that only means there need to be more stories. So everyone who needs it gets the map into fantasy lands.

And I do hope some able-bodied readers read it, and think twice about adopting the world’s attitude to the people in their lives who are already going through enough. Some readers have told me the book helped them sympathise with and understand the cancer sufferers in their family and friend circles, and that’s meant a great deal. What do we write for, if not to learn to love each other better?

Long Live Evil has also given me my life back, as truly as chemo did, in a way that makes the pain worthwhile - I think I would have kept telling stories in some form, but Long Live Evil was my last throw, for as far ahead as I could see. Now since the book’s done well so far I’m hoping I can write more books, and my life can be the storytelling shape I always wanted it to be.

I read your message and I regretted nothing. I remember the pain and the way so many of us laughed or tried to laugh our way through it, and I know this was my way. Jokes, like stories, are the golden thread we follow through the dark labyrinth of our own agony and incomprehension.

It really has been hard, and it’ll stay hard. But like living, it’s worth it.

Please know two things.

I am so happy I wrote this book. Ultimately more than any other feeling I had so, so much fun writing it, and I’m having even more fun seeing the book be read by the people it was meant for.

2. This book was written for you.

[dwindlinghaze]

back at you

(peter parker x reader)

summary: the five times peter stood you up and the one time you did it back.

contents: angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

i. empire state building

"hi love!" peter waves at you before sitting down on the bench with his arms around you. "i miss you."

"hi pete," you say back, planting a small kiss on his nose.

"are you free tonight?"

"if i purposely forget about my stoichiometry homework then i am," you grin.

he laughs at your joke, "i want to take you on a date on top of the empire state building. we haven't been on a real date lately and i've been a really terrible boyfriend for that reason so i want to fix things up. so- er what do you say?"

"sure, i'll be there," you answered.

"no, i'll pick you up at six and swing you up there," he insists.

"i've never been swinging in a thin sticky line before. i don't know how to feel about this offer," you make a face.

"come on it'll be fun i promise! just hold on to me and i will make sure you're safe."

"alright," you smile at him under the may spring weather.

when evening came, you were picking out outfits to wear to the date. you don't want it to be too much, because you'll be swinging high up in the air. you picked a comfortable outfit, ready to wait for peter to arrive at your door.

but he didn't come.

fifteen minutes have passed and still- no calls or messages.

you began to worry, thinking he's in a spider-man trouble but you believe in him to know that he will escape any inconveniences because he's smart and agile.

an hour has passed. no calls or texts.

you felt disappointed. you were really looking forward into this because peter's life has been replaced with spider-man lately and you've been replaced by new york city.

thirty minutes later, peter called you, saying he was sorry for not making it.

"hey lovely, i'm sorry. i really am. please forgive me, there's a robbery on the subway and it took me quite sometime to beat them all up," he says breathlessly with the sound of the wind.

"oh yeah that's fine," you say, trying to hide your disappointment but he hears right through it. "are you okay?" you ask him.

even with your disappointment, you still asked him how he is after the fight.

"i'm quite alright. i can pick you up right now and we can head to the empire state building right now."

"pete, i have to finish my stoichiometry homework."

"i will do it for you."

"have you finished it?"

"no," he admits, a beat of silence filling the line.

"well, i will see you tomorrow then. good night."

"good night, i love you, sweets!"

"love you too," you say before ending the call.

ii. ice cream

you met peter two days later, his state more jagged somehow. new bruises and scars on his face. you notice how he now wears long sleeves instead of the normal graphic t-shirt he wore with a science joke screen printed on them.

"hi pete," you reach for him, taking his hand in yours.

peter smiles a lopsided smile.

"i haven't seen you since our supposedly date day," you say, "are you all right?"

"i'm sorry about that," he replies, scratching his nose which made the dried scar torn open. "ugh-"

you pull out a napkin from your bag, folding it before pressing it against his bleeding skin. "who did this to you."

"no one, i just fell while swinging," peter says, kissing your hand that rests in front of his lips.

"this is not a bruise, it looks like someone did this to you," you say.

"let's forget about this okay?" he takes both your hands. "an ice cream date tomorrow?"

"sure," you reply.

"hey you didn't sound too pleased with that," peter remarks.

"i'm just worried pete, what if being spider-man makes you dead?" you say.

"stop, i'm not going anywhere," he assures you as he squeezes your knuckles. "tomorrow at three?"

"three in the morning or evening," you ask jokingly.

"at dawn, sweetheart," peter plays along. "i'll be there tomorrow. meet me at the ice cream shop okay?"

"i will," you agree. "let's go home, it's getting late."

"i'll walk you home," peter insists, throwing his arms around your shoulders.

as the two of you walked home, peter's spidey tingles were tingling. he ignores it at first but then sirens came so he looks at you sadly. you nod, urging him to help the police.

"i'm sorry love, please text me when you get home. i love you," he yells as he disappears behind an alleyway.

"bye, i love you too," you whisper, starting to walk back home.

the next day came and you are now sitting on a booth inside the ice cream shop. the time is now three o'clock sharp and you are waiting for your boyfriend to walk through the door. your eyes are glued to the street outside, wishing every person passing by is peter parker.

three thirty, and still no peter. the waitress asks you for your order but you decline it, saying that you're supposed to be meeting someone.

three fourty five, still no peter. you wonder how pathetic you look sitting here in the warm dim light alone surrounded by sweet couples.

you start to worry about him, then you start to question yourself on why you're here alone. peter was supposed to be here forty five minutes ago. he was supposed to be here sipping milkshake and inhaling mint leaves to make you laugh.

you fumble with your fingers, heart tripping and falling with no safety net.

the waitress you talked to earlier came with a tray of strawberry ice cream with a sympathetic look on her face. "here, for free. if you were a cartoon character, there'll be a cumulonimbus cloud hovering over your head," she says, pushing the tray to you.

"oh thanks," you say tiredly, "you don't have to y'know, think i'll be leaving soon anyways."

"it's fine. my manager wouldn't be happy to see someone sitting here without ordering any of our menus," she declares.

"but you said it's for free?," you say.

"she wouldn't know. it's a gift for me to you because clearly your 'someone' is supposed to be here but they aren't. hope this makes it up."

"thank you, dorothy," you read off of her name tag.

four fifteen, still no sign of peter but the tv above the counter was showing a scene of spider-man fighting a criminal on top of a roof high up.

you sigh, eyes shooting bullets at the tv screen.

you pack your belongings before heading back to your home. once again, peter stood you up.

"oh my god," you screamed when you heard a crash behind you. you reluctantly turned around, only to see peter on the ground with his hair messy and unruly. "are you fine?"

peter stands up, shaking the dusts off of him. "love i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'm-"

"peter, it's fine," you put on a smile, even though your intonation screams disappointment.

"it's not, just because you're smiling doesn't mean i didn't mess up," he says apologetically.

"you have your duties. i can't force you to throw it away like how you do your chores."

"don't make jokes now," peter sighs, "are you still up for it? i'll buy you every menu in there."

"i'm tired. i've been sitting inside there for over an hour i just want to go home," you admit.

"at least let me walk you home," peter insists once more.

"okay.." you start to walk away down the block.

"i'm sorry, honey. please forgive me! how about we move this to tomorrow?" he asks.

"i don't think you'll like it there," you say.

"hmm? why's that."

"because i think i fell for the waitress that was there," you try to joke around to make him feel less guilty. he already has so much on his shoulders and you don't want to be one of his baggages too.

"who? i'm not letting a stranger take you away from me," peter makes a salty face.

"secret," you giggle. peter takes your face between his hands before planting sloppy kisses around your face.

now it's like everything is perfect. peter kissing you under the sparkling lights of new york's buildings on the sidewalk.

iii. star wars marathon

"ah y/n hi sweetheart!" aunt may opens the door to greet you. "peter told me you were coming over for movies"

"hi aunt may, is he here?" you ask her as you take off your jacket and put it on the rack.

"i thought he was coming with you?"

"oh yeah! i was supposed to meet him at the skatepark but he told me to go here first," you cover up for him. peter hasn't told may about spider-man yet and you want to keep him out of trouble.

"oh alright, have you eaten dinner?" may asks.

"i'll wait for peter first, aunt may, thank you."

"you can wait upstairs, peter wouldn't mind," aunt may offers.

"i know," you smile at her before coming up the stair to his room.

you opened his bedroom door, taking in the surroundings. his room is extremely messy. like a wrecked ship. you climb up his bed, making yourself comfortable on his bedsheets.

it has been hours since you arrived and peter still wasn't here. he was taking so long to the point where you feel asleep in his bed.

you felt sick in your stomach. all you ever hope for is peter's safety out there.

you woke up when a crash was heard from his fire escape. your body jolt up, your full attention is now on his fire escape.

"oh y/n! i forgot about our movie date!" peter say once he saw your face. "i'm so sorry, please believe me. i was looking forward to it but i i got carried away! oh s-"

"pete, come here," you say sternly.

peter freezes, looking at you like a deer in headlights. he is ready for your scolding as he walks over to you but his thoughts were quickly pushed away when you rub his arms tenderly.

"what happened, darling?"

"nothing too bad," he lets out a breathy laugh. "you should see the other guy."

"no i don't want to see whoever did this to you," you say in disbelief. "stay here, i'll help you with these," you point to his new scars.

"i have super healing, it's fine, love," he assures. "just come here please. let's watch star wars together."

"um i think it's getting too late," you say much to peter's disappointment.

"what do you mean? it's only eight thirty, we can watch one movie!" he starts to replace his suit into his pajamas, ready to watch with you.

"i have to get home, my mom needs me to... uh wash her dishes," you tell him. it's not that you didn't want to watch with him. you're too moody and upset to be around him for now.

he has been absent for dates three times in a row and you feel like you were fighting alone.

you left peter alone in the bed. you can practically feel his melancholia floating through the air.

"hey aunt may, i'll be going now," you bid goodbye to her.

"oh goodbye sweetie," she says. "make sure you get home safe alright? peter should walk you home!"

"that won't be needed, i'm fine aunt may."

"all right," may smiles warmly at you despite the cold air of the night.

when you arrived home, peter has sent you twenty five messages in a row. each of them being

'i'm sorry'

'please answer me, love'

'get back to me when you're home safely."

'pls get home safe'

'i love you'

and those messages over and over again.

iv. science laboratory

since that day, peter calls you over and over agin wishing you'd pick up. and you did.

you answered his call only for him to say that he was sorry and he's going to plan a date again.

you were tired of him asking you for dates and ended up being alone. you rejected his offer, saying that you have some family stuff so you won't be able to make it.

and peter knows

he knows that you're upset he has been leaving you alone on dates.

so the only time left for him with you is for the lab homework. you two are lab partners and you had suggested to do it in your house.

firstly because you don't want to walk home alone in the dark, and secondly, you don't want to lie to aunt may again. knowing that one way or another, peter will probably get home late.

you sat on your sofa, waiting for him to knock on the door. you place out the text books on the tables, set out glasses of water, take out some snacks from your fridge. and peter is not even here.

waiting for him has got you tired so you decided to do the work done yourself.

you already got most of the answers required then peter shows up; drenched in sweat and blood at your window.

you heard the tapping from below and immediately sprint upstairs, knowing it is peter.

"hey, uh i'm sorry," he winces as he steps inside your bedroom.

"hey pete, it's fine," you say, trying to assure him. "come in, let me fix you up."

peter nods, letting you take care of him. "you sound tired," he points. "are you alright, love?"

"that question should be asked to you!" you reply. "okay, here, just sit in my bed, it's fine."

peter does as you say, "sorry about this," he waves his fingers at himself with a bitter laugh. "and also our lab work. sorry."

"it's fine," you say again as you wipe the blood off his face gently. "i've done the work, most of it. you can finish the rest."

"what?" peter asks wide eye. "i- i was supposed to do that with you!"

"pete, calm down. i will let you finish the rest here. you look terrible."

"huh," he breathes. "nothing too bad."

"are you sure you could still do the lab homework?" you say, worried.

"yes love i am capable," he puts on a convincing grin.

"okay..."

peter starts to do the work while you rub his back soothingly. "if you're tired, that's fine. take a nap in my room."

"no i'm not," peter scrunches his nose, eyes squeezing shut.

"okay..." you continue.

v. chocolate cups

that night, peter has asked you to go on a date. and you didn't have the heart to reject him in such state.

the way he smiles when you said yes can melt every butter in the world.

he planned to go to the new chocolate themed place. from the advertisements, it shows to be an ideal date place for a romantic relationship.

you waited there, on the front. waiting for him. you actually has hope this time of peter showing up.

the place was cute and warm. displaying an unreal scenery. you saw couples walking in and you smile at them discreetly. they looked incredibly happy and in love. you can't wait for peter to get here so you can have the same happiness as they do.

you stand there, in the middle of the porch. he is already thirty minutes late. you see pity looks sent to you by people around. but still had hope.

but as each second passes, your faith in him was fading. you didn't know if new york really hates you or it's just a coincidence that whenever you and peter were supposed to be on a date, the city will have something coming up.

you decide that your waiting was too long so you come home. it was humiliating to say the least. the way other people looks so happy while you were feeling crestfallen.

those pity looks didn't make anything better either.

although you understand peter, being spider-man is hard. you have to constantly push your personal life aside to save the whole city from dangers.

a part of you wishes he didn't push you aside like his other things.

vi. the one time

days after, when you are calmed down from that upsetting and humiliating day, peter told you about this dinner place that he was looking forward to trying.

he knows you love culinary and this was perfect for the both of you.

you agree to going there with him, making a promise to be there.

he promised whatever happens in the city, he's sure it's nothing the police can't control.

the day came and you we're fighting your own mind about going or not.

you believe in peter. he's your boyfriend. he does not break promises. but there's always something coming up in evenings like these.

there's always something avoiding you two to be together.

so with the conclusion, you stayed at home.

peter on the other hand was worrying on the table he rsvp-ed. not only you haven't arrived yet but also you weren't answering his calls.

the worst possible scenarios come to his head. clouding up his thought in a fog of bad dreams.

he does think that he deserves this. having the humiliating feeling of when your significant other didn't show up on a date, in a room full of tenths of people with their pitiful eyes.

he couldn't wait no more so he goes straight to your home, hoping that you were there.

it was raining heavily, his neat shirt that you had given was soaked. his hair is dirty with mud and dirt.

and you are. you were reading a book in the dim lit bedroom. he knocks on your window hastily, hoping that you can hear him outside in the rain.

"peter?" you spoke. making your way to your window, the sight that flashes before you was unexpected.

you didn't think peter would actually show up so saving your energy by staying at home and get 'sorry' messages were expected. but not this.

"peter what are you doing?"

"did you forgot?" peter asks sadly, shivering from the cold rain.

"about our dinner?"

"...yes."

"i just thought you wouldn't show up. and i don't want to be in a situation like our previous date plans," you admit, feeling guilty.

"we made a promise, didn't we?"

"yes, pete. i'm sorry. i'm just so tired of standing alone in a room. i'm not going to let that happen to me anymore. i thought something was going to come up because that's what happens in our date. every one of them."

"but we promised. you didn't trust me enough to keep my promise?" peter asks, heartbroken by the thought.

"no! that's not what i'm implying. you always put new york's happiness above mine and i just- i don't know. doesn't seem fair. new york has its own police, government, and what not but you are my boyfriend. my best friend. i miss being with you. like actually being with you."

"love, i didn't realise how much i've been pushing you aside for this city. and you're right. i am your boyfriend and i'm supposed to make you happy- not neglected. i'm sorry."

"yeah,"

"yeah, and from now on i will balance peter parker and spider-man. just call me if you need me, and i'll show you just how much i care about you. more than anything."

"even new york?"

"yes!" peter exclaims. "i guess we're even."

"no, you stood me up five times. and i only did it once!" you joke.

"well that's true," peter says bitterly.

"pete, i'm only joking. i'm happy you're here," you say.

"you told me you missed me. and i do too. so why don't we spend time together. like, right now?" peter suggests.

"yes we can."

"movies?"

"star wars marathon?"

"i'll get the snacks."

[delulu-with-wandanat]

Tainted Past

Reader Description: he/they, masculine titles, early 20s.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Masculine!Reader

A/n: So this was inspired while I was playing around in Character.ai (I was being delulu as usual), so I guess shoutout to the creator of Mature!Wanda ai for kickstarting my brain again. I haven't write in a while guys pls be nice :')

Warnings: No warnings for now actually, maybe sadge Wanda, Wanda lowkey being bullied.

Summary: Years have passed since Westview and Wanda finally has the chance to settle down and live the normal she had always yearned for. However, that comes with a challenge as many were still wary of her. Along the way she met a young man in his early 20s, whom took pity on the witch despite all odds.

ᗢ----------ᗢ

It was a huge deal when rumors spread about the infamous Scarlet Witch moving into their town. The same witch that brought upon destructions and chaos, the one who enslaved a whole town. The one that the Dracula from Hotel Transylvania would describe as,

"-Nutsy Cuckoo!" Y/n snorted at their friend's description of the witch, "She's a total nutjob, I'm telling you. She went berserk for kids she DIDN'T even have."

"And afterwards went after a child, no, a literal CHILD!" Their other friend added, "Who happens to be America Chavez, who ended up teaming up with her as well. Hence why she's able to even live freely back into society."

"That's crazy..." Y/n said while shaking his head. The were all sitting their usual cafe, gossiping about their latest neighbor.

"I heard she lives across the street from you. Hey, at least she's a hot MILF right?" Their friend Magdalena joked, which made her receive a cookie thrown at her face.

"Shut up, Lena." She only snorted. As both of his friends were snickering, the two of them stopped and their eyes trailed something behind him.

"What?"

"Speak of the devil..." Victor said as he had a little bit of a disgusted look.

Y/n turned around, and there she was. The Scarlet Witch. She hasn't been seen on any media for the past few years, the last time she was seen, she had a long auburn hair, and was wearing her suit. The look she had right now was a striking contrast to her last appearance on the media.

She had cut her hair, it was now dyed blonde, and she was wearing a casual civilian clothes. Y/n felt shivers running down their spine as painful memories flooded his mind.

"She really wants to be normal, huh?" Victor said under his breath.

"I mean... she's kinda-" Victor elbowed Magdalena on her ribs before she could finish her sentence. Giving her a look that says 'don't'.

The whole cafe went silent when she entered the shop, she awkwardly said 'hi' before making her way to the queue. Everything else was a little bit of a blur for Y/n, as for some reason their heart started beating rapidly. Their fist clenched to the point his friend had to snap him out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine." Y/n responded with a faux smile before focusing his attention outside the window. He couldn't help but to focus on Wanda's voice when she ordered.

"I would like something to drink please." He heard Wanda speak, there was a beat of silence.

"Coffee? Tea?" The barista responded, soundingly uninterested and rude. Seems like the Barista wasn't a huge fan of Wanda, as normally the Barista was always so kind to Y/n and his friends.

"O-oh! Coffee, please." Another silence, "Cappucino, hot."

"That'll be $4.50." She could be heard rummaging through her purse and took out a some money to pay.

"I'm assuming you would need my name-"

"We know." The barista said rather coldly. Wanda could be heard clearing her throat nervously and waited for her order. It didn't take long before they called out, "Cappucino for Scarlet Witch."

Y/n glances at the bar, they noticed how tense she was upon hearing her title. The title she wishes everyone would forget. She gave a forced smile before turning and walking back to the exit. Seems like she was nervous, and then the worst possible thing could happen to someone happened to her...

Her purse got stuck on the door handle as she was about to walk out, causing her to spill her beverage. "Shit!" She cursed.

Y/n's two friends couldn't handle their snort upon seeing the tragedy. Wanda glances at them and awkwardly laughs, "Silly me." She says before hastily walking away from the shop.

"She is just adapting well to us mere mortals." Victor said sarcastically.

As much as Y/n wasn't exactly fond of the witch (for personal reasons), they did felt... a hint of sympathy towards her. He looked outside and saw her seemingly cursing at herself for the embarrassing encounter at the cafe.

Oh she's going to take a while to adapt...

ᗢ----------ᗢ

Y/n looked down at the notes their sister sent them and walked down the aisle to find the item. What seem to be a simple errand turned into a full blown grocery shopping, that bitch.

I just wanted to buy some ramen...

He picked up a bunch of items his sisters needed, and picked a pack of ramen for himself. While he was on the cereal section he heard that familiar voice again.

"Hi, ma'am, do you know where I could- O-oh, yes, that's alright have a good day!" He turns his attention to her direction, from the customers to the staff, they were all ignoring her existence. She visibly sighed and gave up on asking people. That's... what she deserves I guess.

He only saw her again as he was about to pay, they were queued just behind her. Crap.

"Sorry ma'am, we take cash only, the machine is broken at the moment." The cashier told her.

"I... I don't have any cash on me right now." She nervously laughs, "Are you sure? Because the customer before-"

"Look if you don't have cash you can pay with apple pay." Seems like the cashier just wanted to torment her, which she did as Wanda sighed in frustration.

"I don't- I don't have that set up on my phone yet." The cashier only shrugged their shoulders. "Fine. How much was-"

"$27.60" Wanda started rummaging through her purse again, desperately trying to find some cash left. She found... $5, ok that's a start. $10, ok we're getting there.

"Hey come on, lady! You're holding up the line!" The guy behind Y/n yelled, making Wanda panic slightly. Y/n closed his eyes, ugh fuckin-

They opened their eyes again, and Wanda was still hastily searching her bag as people got increasingly annoyed at her. They closed their eyes, agh Jesus fucking christ I better go to heaven for this-

"Ok, is there any-" Wanda's sentence was cut off when hand puts down a $50 dollar bill to pay for her checkout.

"You can just pay me back later." Wanda wanted to refuse, but she internally sighed in relief. The cashier gave Y/n the change and Wanda thanked them with the brightest smile. "Don't mention it." They said giving her a polite smile.

As Wanda walked out of the store, she took another glance at the young boy and smiled to herself. She made a mental note to find the youth later on.

ᗢ----------ᗢ

They didn't understand why they had to be so sympathetic to the psycho witch, especially after everything she had put them through. Everyone was doing just fine ignoring her presence, in fact, Y/n had the biggest right out of them all to ignore that crazy, wacko, mentally unstable-

"There you are!"

A familiar voice made Y/n whipped their head to the direction. Oh no... Don't tell me she thinks we're basically friends now. Wanda walked up to him with a smile, Y/n had a natural instinct to tense up. Just the sight of her, made him clenched his jaw.

"I just wanted to properly say thank you." She said, rubbing her hand nervously. She wore a simple red t-shirt, and jeans. Wanda looked like any normal civilian. If you had lived in a cave, unaware of the outside world, the idea that Wanda is capable of such chaos and destruction wouldn't cross your mind. "And uh... for your trouble."

Wanda then handed him cash of what she owes him. He looked at the money and then her. "This is.... $30"

"Oh you can keep it all." The witch said with a slight shake in her voice, she then cleared her throat. "U-unless you prefer it to be precise I can-" She pulled out her phone from her pocket. "I can use that uh... that app, Vimeo?"

Y/n couldn't help but to let out a chuckle, "Venmo. Vimeo is a like a... it's like Youtube." Am I really talking with this lady?

"Ah... Right, right, I... I knew that." She looked at her phone with confused look on her face. Wanda then let out a soft laugh. "Well imagine my confusion."

"Well, thank you. I could definitely use the extra $2." Y/n said with a smile.

"I should be thanking you." Wanda responded, she bit her lip slightly, wanting to continue the conversation with what it seems like the only person who sees her as a human. "I'm Wanda, by the way, Wanda Maximoff." She hold out her hand awkwardly.

"I uhm- I'm your new neighbor, but I- I'm sure you knew that already." She let out a nervous laugh.

Y/n didn't want to talk to the witch any longer than needed, sharing name would mean they were on first name basis. But if there's anything Y/n hated more... Being left hanging when you hold out your had.

"Y/n, nice to meet you, Wanda."

Wanda noticeably beamed at the fact that they didn't just brushed her off.

"Well I should be heading back. I live just across from you." Shit! Why did I say that??

"Oh then I hope to see more of you!" Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity-

"Yeah, see you around, Mrs. Maximoff." He said politely, giving her a smile and crossed the street to his house. He internally cursed at himself. Idiot!

Wanda turned around smiling to herself. I made a friend...

---

For the next few weeks, Wanda never fails to greet them whenever she happens to see Y/n pass. She did that to everyone, of course, but no one ever really bothers to respond. Y/n desperately wanted to avoid her, but it was difficult as she continuously try to interact with everyone. Which... to be honest was quite sad.

He doesn't know why he felt bad, but seeing the woman trying so desperately to join society and no one giving her a chance was such a depressing sight to see. Not that Y/n should care, she shouldn't have done what she did. But...

Ugh... It doesn't take much for him to be polite at least.

So Y/n started to return her polite greetings. Whenever he sees her watering her flowers, she greet him with a wave and a smile. And Y/n does the same. They had to admit, seeing her so happy that someone responded was... kind of cute.

Eugh...

It went on for a while, so you could say they were on a friendly term. And Y/n had no plans on furthering that relationship. At least by choice.

"Hi there, Y/n!" She greeted with her usual smile and wave. It had been about 2 months since she lived here. "How's your morning jog?"

"Hi, Mrs. Maximoff. Uh... It was alright, nice weather today."

"I agree. Say, you fancy joining a party? I'm having a housewarming party this evening, you should come. There will be plenty of food." She asked with hopeful eyes.

"Uh..." Say no, say no, what the fuck are you- SAY NO. "I'll have to see, ma'am. I have a pretty packed schedule today."

Wanda tried to hide her disappointment as much as she could. She had heard tons of those excuses for days now, at least he was polite about his rejection. "That's alright, darling! I'm just across the road if you change your mind. And feel free to bring some friends!"

"I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Maximoff. See you around!" Y/n said before going back to their house. They leaned on the closed door and sighed. Their sister looked at them expectantly.

"She invited you as well?" She said with a raised eyebrow.

Y/n sighed before answering, "Yeah..."

"I don't know why she even bothers. Not like anyone would take her up for it." His sister said dismissively as she went back to the living room, settling on the couch.

Y/n joins her and grabs the remote, "Maybe she has change."

"You've got to be one mentally ill fucker to say that, especially coming from you." She added, waiting for him to pick a movie. "Did she hex you or something-"

"I'm perfectly fine." Y/n sighed. "I just... Look she does seems like some woman who's trying to live a normal life."

"But she's not a woman, Y/n. She's a monster." She rubs her temple. "A lot of people gone mad in Westview, I'm sure you remember."

"How could I forget..."

"She could try all she wants, but I won't give her the benefit of the doubt. And I won't stop you if you decide too..." They looked at their sister who smiles at him gently. "The beauty of it is that you have a choice now, none of her victims did."

He looked at the floor, his sister could see the gears in his head moving.

"Though I have to say you are one mad son of a bitch if you did."

ᗢ----------ᗢ

I am one mad son of a bitch.

They thought to themselves as they rang her doorbell. I could still change my mind right? I can run-

"I'll be right there!"

Fuck!

Wanda opens the door, delighted to greet her guest. "Y/n! So glad you could make it."

"Hi, Mrs. Maximoff." They took in her dress, well she does look good. "You look stunning."

Wanda gave him a smile, "Thank you. Please, come in!"

They entered the house, it was cozy, small, homey, there were very little pictures hung up. They did notice one family picture, and what it looks like and old frame of her and her late brother. Her informations was easy to find on the internet, yes Y/n did their research.

The house was decorated for party mode. There was some snack on the table, fruit punch, and a few other things. However, it was missing a key ingredient...

"Sorry, am I early?" He turned to Wanda.

Wanda sighed, "Early is uh... one way to put it. You're the first one here the others must've been late. They said they'll stop by." She puts on a reassuring smile, but Y/n had a feeling she must've felt devastated.

And in fact, Wanda was. This housewarming party was her attempt to prove herself to the neighborhood that she was in fact not a threat, maybe make some friends... But no matter, she had one guest now.

"Take a seat!" She said enthusiastically, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Yeah sure, I'll get some fruit punch, looks really refreshing." The two settled down on the couch, there was a moment of awkward silent between them.

If there's one thing Y/n couldn't take, it was that.

"Here." They passed her the gift bag they had brought for her. "It's an old record player I had lying around, I don't ever use it anymore and I thought it would go with uh..." He searched for the right words, "Someone of your generation?"

Wanda took the gift with a smile and gave him a funny look, "You make it sounds like I'm old." She said jokingly. "But thank you. You didn't have too, but I appreciate it."

It was a red colored Crosley turntable. It was portable, and had a built in speaker. Her heart swelled at their gesture. "There's some vinyls in there as well, I hope you like the Beatles."

"I love the Beatles."

"I'll help you set it up." He said with a kind smile. Wanda decided to put the record player in her living room, perhaps some tune would help set up the mood. They plugged it in and Y/n made her choose the album. Wanda scanned the various albums, looking at the front cover and the back with a smile on her face.

She puts on one album and the song 'Twist and Shout' started to play. "Now this is a party." Wanda said, earning a chuckle from the youth. She then lightly bop her head into the song, twisting her legs like one of those old style dance. For a second she seems to lost her self into the music.

Y/n had always seen Wanda in... sort of a negative light. But seeing her smiling, dancing, just interacting with her on a more personal level... They were starting to see Wanda in an entirely new light.

The woman then turns to face the youth, she had a bright smile on her face as she made a 'come here' motion to him. "Not much of a dancer?"

They let out a laugh and joined Wanda. "I'll have you know I'm an incredible dancer."

Music was the exact ice breaker that they needed, they wen't from keeping their distance to even occasionally twirling each other playfully. Y/n had to admit, he was having fun with the witch. Wanda had a contagious laugh, an intoxicating energy, a smile that could light up a whole room, and she was so so... beautiful-

Why am I thinking about her like this?

"So Y/n, tell something about yourself. I'd like to get to know my neighbors better." Wanda asked once the music ended and it started playing a much slower song in the albums. They sat on the couch with a snack dividing their space.

"Oh I'm just your typical fresh graduate, ma'am. Still trying to find where I'm gonna belong here in the workforce." Y/n responded with a dry chuckle.

"I'm sure you'll find your place." She look down at her drink with a small smile. "Friend of mine always said there's a place for everyone in the world."

The way she said it so softly, made tugged something inside Y/n's heart. She really is just trying to fit in the world like the rest of us.

"And you, ma'am? Who is Wanda Maximoff?" He asked teasingly, getting more comfortable with her each minute. He popped some chips in his mouth, anticipating her answer.

"Me? Oh you know... I'm a retired old psycho witch." She said jokingly.

Y/n couldn't help the snort that came out of them, "Sorry-" Ok. She's got humor.

Wanda laughs and waved him off, "Don't be." She thought for a second before answering properly. "Well... I'm sure my informations are out there. Former Avenger turned villain, was... a threat to humanity once, served my time of redemption and here I am."

"Those are old news." Y/n said. "I'm asking along the lines of, who is Wanda Maximoff. What does she do for fun?"

Wanda tilted her head at his question, tiny smile creeped onto her face. No one... ever really asked her that question before. Wanda took a drink of her fruit punch before answering.

"I..." She cleared her throat, "I enjoy reading in my spare time, I love gardening as you can tell." Y/n listen intently with a soft smile on their face. "I like board games, I have a few collection of those, and... cooking."

She finishes with a smile. "Not the answers you were expecting?"

"Yeah... I honestly expected potions brewing." Wanda bursted out laughing at his response. A genuine hearty laugh. "With cauldrons and everything." He said jokingly, trying to get more amusement out of her.

She's so cute when she laughs.

"Don't tell me you think witches do potions brewing do you?"

"They don't?!" He asked in an exaggerate tone, which amuses Wanda further as she shook her head still with a smile on her face.

She then leaned against the her seat. "Maybe some do."

"Did you also had a wand like Harry Potter?"

The two shared another laugh, and they fell into an easy conversation from there. Wanda learned that Y/n lives with their sister, his parents were retired in Vancouver, Canada. She made a mental note to travel there as it seems like a wonderful place to live. Y/n just recently graduated from University and had planned on moving to New York once they had saved enough money.

Y/n learned that Wanda was also fond of drawing, painting, anything art related. She drew flowers that she grew in her garden mostly, but she occasionally draws a portrait of people. And she was actually pretty good.

Wanda gave him a tour of the house, her kitchen was surprisingly well equipped. Her living room had a 4K flat screen TV. She shyly admits that she enjoys watching movies and shows so she wanted put a little more money on investing in a decent screen. Y/n couldn't judge, they binge watch Netflix all the time too.

The clock soon hits 11 o'clock and Y/n remains the only guest at her party. He felt pity on her, as he could see from all the drinks and food, she really went out of her way only for no one to show up. They would assumed that Wanda felt sad and depressed, but to quite honest, Wanda was so happy that even one person attend her party.

Y/n was kind and polite, they treated Wanda like she was their neighbor instead of some witch. She couldn't be more grateful.

They were playing a game of Jenga when she noticed how late it was. "It's getting late." She told him as he was pulling out a block of wood from the tower with pure concentration, he was even sticking out his tongue.

"Mhmmm... I just need to-" The tower then falls and he groaned in frustration. Wanda laughs at his adorable nature. "You did that on purpose, you just wanted to kick me out!" He jokingly accused her.

"I did not!" She playfully shoved his shoulder. Y/n helped her cleaned up the block of woods before being escorted to the front door by Wanda. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Maximoff. I had a really great time."

"Please, just Wanda." She smiled at him. "And I should be thank you. This is the most fun I've had in a long time."

"So did I." He smiled at her while stepping outside. "If you need anything, I'm just across the road. Don't hesitate to stop by."

"I will, thank you." She smiled sweetly at him. Y/n walked backwards while waving goodbye at her.

"And I want a rematch!" He said before finally turning around to walk back to his house. Wanda laughs saying 'Of course' under her breath and closed the door.

She leaned against the door and let out a happy sighed. I really made a friend!

Smut next chapter homie? 👀

[thought--bubble]

Make You Beg

Ettore X Prison Nurse Reader X Will (Salad Days)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2736

Ettore Masterlist

Will (Salad Days) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Gorgeous Banner inspired by this story made by @vhagar-balerion-meraxes it is so beautiful!

A/N: Not me writing the filthiest thing I can imagine with two minor characters. This is purely self-indulgent.

Warnings: Ettore is his own warning, mentions of physical violence, blood, Dubcon , biting, scratching, predatory behaviors, hair pulling, mentions of pain, some sub/dom behaviors, degradation, fingering, oral sex male receiving, PinV unprotected, rough sex, deepthroating, crying, humiliation and praising.

"Again?" You sigh as your favorite frequent flyer, Will, shuffles into your exam room with yet another bloody lip and possible broken nose.

"What can I say? I missed ya. " he chuckles as he makes his way to the gurney on the left.

You put your hand up to the guard that brought him as he goes to handcuff him to the gurney.

"That isn't necessary. Will here won't give me any problems" You smile at Will, you have been through this with him many times and have built a friendly rapport. You trust him to behave.

"It isn't you that I'm concerned about" the guard laughs heartily, as another guard walks in with an inmate you haven't seen before.

The inmate has clear injuries to his mouth but would still be lesser priority than Will.

Will rolls his eyes and audibly groans. "This fucking nonce"

The other inmate lunges toward him, the guard grappling him to the floor.

"Cut it out!" The guard yells authoritatively, the inmate on the ground immediately stops struggling, allowing the guard to get him back to his feet.

You shriek as you jump back. "Should we even have them both in here at the same time?"

"They will be fine as long as this one can learn to shut his gob," the guard by Will says as he latches Will's arm to the metal post of the gurney.

You move to the second inmate as he is also latched to his gurney. "Ettore," the guard next to him says. "Watch out with this one he is a....... just watch out"

You look at the two guards with confusion as they move toward the door. "Where are you going?!" Your voice is laced with panic. You have never been left alone with an inmate, let alone two.

"The fight they started devolved. It's all hands on deck. They are hooked tight. You'll be fine. I will come back as soon as possible"

"Surely you are joking?" You whimper slightly as the two guards leave the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

When you turn back around, you see your two patients. Each handcuffed to their gurney. Will looking over at Ettore, hatred etched across his face while Ettore stares directly at you. Tilting his head slightly to the side as his eyes wander up and down your form.

"Right. Ummm, " You nervously wipe your palms on your thighs trying to quell the nausea creeping its way up your throat. "Will seems to have more injuries, so I should tend to him first"

You nervously move toward Will while trying to position your body so that you don't entirely turn your back on Ettore.

"I wouldn't let him hurt ya, ya gotta know tha" Will smiles at you from his place on the gurney, his voice soft and sweet.

"No offense, but you let him hurt you pretty good." You chuckle as you start to dab away the blood on his lower lip with a cotton ball.

"Yeah, well, that's different. Two blokes throwing blows. Not the same thing as an animal like that coming after a lass. " You can hear Ettore grumble from across the room, his handcuffs clacking against the metal bar of the gurney.

"Will," you say warningly "remember, watch your words. I don't want any further trouble with you two."

"You know what he's in here for?" He asks, making your stomach turn. You don't know and don't want to know.

"You're all in here for something, hardly my business, to know what" You finish tending to his lip and start to clean around his eye.

"I robbed a post office. Then beat my best friend half to death over a girl that never even liked me. I'm an idiot. Not an animal. " You stay silent and continue to tend to his wounds. You had always wondered how he found himself in here. He was scrappy, but he was so sweet.

"He is an entirely different beast." He motions toward Ettore, who simply scoffs.

You swallow nervously. Between the comments from the guard, Will's analysis and Ettore's lecherous gaze you had an inkling of what type of "beast" Ettore might be, making the fact that you have to treat him all the more daunting.

"I'm here to heal, not judge. Now sit back. " You push Will back against The gurney by the shoulder so you can inspect his nose further.

"You have such a handsome face. You really should stop getting punched in it. " You move to set his nose, and he grunts.

"Think I'm handsome, do ya? He wiggles his eyebrows at you and smirks.

You blush and pat his shoulder. "Nose should heal up fine."

You turn and walk towards Ettore, your stomach dropping.

"Hello Ettore, let's take a look at that mouth ok?" You take his chin in your hand and angle his face upward and can't help but notice the goosebumps that ripple across his skin at your touch.

Swallowing deeply, you gently ease his mouth open with your thumb and use your little flashlight to peer inside. "Doesn't look like any teeth were knocked loose or anything like that so you should be fine."

You move to leave his bedside, but his hand shoots up and holds your wrist tightly. "Ettore....." You attempt to sound intimidating so you could assert your authority over him.

"Oi!, let her go!" Will yells from the other side of the room, his cuffs jangling wildly against the metal bar of his gurney.

Ettore pulls you down roughly toward his face and sniffs into your hair with deep, long controlled breaths.

You stay very still, your mind telling you to run but unable to respond physically. Frozen in place while Ettore continued to sniff you.

He clamps his hand tighter still on your wrist as he grips the hand cuff with his other hand pulling tightly until the gurney bar snaps out of place.

Your breath hastens as you hear the light jingle of him sliding the handcuff down and off the bar before bringing his newly freed hand to the back of your head gripping your hair tight and pulling your head back.

You can feel the harsh thump of your heart beating in your chest as he drags his nose down the length of your neck, breathing in deeply. You can still faintly hear the sounds of Will struggling against his confinement on the other side of the room as Ettore begins to speak quietly.

"Do I excite you?" He asks as he nips at your neck. You feel a burning heat building in your core. You know you shouldn't. This is a bad man. A man that you should not be anywhere near. Yet you gently nod your head as he smirks at you.

"Hey! Let her alone!" Will desperately attempts to free himself to no avail. The desperation evident in his tone.

Ettore bites into your neck harshly, and you can't help but squeak. "Mmmm," he grumbles into your neck. Shivers of pleasure and fear make their way down your throat and down the length of your spine. He gently licks at the marks he left, the stinging sensation further adding to the heat building in your core.

Will's struggling is echoing throughout the room, and his desperate pleas pull at your heartstrings, seemingly breaking the spell Ettore has cast upon you. You pull yourself away from Ettore and stumble backward a few steps.

Your brain telling you to put as much distance between him and you as possible, your body begging you to return to him.

Ettore looks at you with curiosity and then smirks, swinging his legs over the side of the gurney.

You turn and walk back to Will quickly. "You alright?" He reaches out and gently touches your cheek before turning his head towards Ettore, who is now stalking over to you.

"Let her alone!" Will wraps his free arm around you, clutching you toward his chest. His heart beating loudly against his rib cage. The feeling comforting.

Ettore wraps his arms around your midsection, pulling you towards him while Will swings at him wildly with his free arm.

"I swear I'll kill ya!" He yells, desperately pulling against his restrained wrist.

"She don't want that..... do ya?" Ettore strokes his hand down the side of your body, lightly grazing over every curve and dip, until he reaches the waistband of your scrubs and quickly brings his hand to your heat.

Pleasure shoots straight through your body all the way down to a pleasant tingle in your toes at the touch.

"No," you just barely whisper, leaning your head back against Ettore's shoulder.

Will's mouth drops open in shock. "What?"

He watches as Ettore rubs at your pearl in circles, your head leaning back against his shoulder, your muffled whimpers growing in volume.

A satisfied smirk crosses Ettore's face as he continues pleasuring you while his gaze is fixed on Will.

"Want more?" He growls in your ear, his never-ending staring contest with Will still raging on.

"Yes," you moan more than whisper desperate for more of the delicious friction his hand was providing. Ettore bends you over the gurney, your chest pushed down into a stunned Will's lap. He makes quick work of your scrubs and panties, bringing his hand to the back of your head and yanking you up by the hair.

"Look at him," Ettore growls as he shoves a finger into your cunt, pumping it furiously. "Make him beg for some"

You lift your eyes to meet Will's while wanton moans escape your lips.

Will brings his hand down to your face and gently strokes your cheek with his fingertips. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. The praise going straight to your heat.

Ettore removes his fingers from you and pulls his own pants down to his mid thighs stroking himself a few times before roughly grasping your hips and shoving his cock inside you all the way to the hilt.

You scream at the sudden intrusion, the pain mixing with pleasure as you feel yourself split open on his girthy length.

"Shhh shhh, you're ok," Will gently coos as Ettore starts to pound into you furiously. Dragging his free hand down your back, his fingernails digging into the skin like an animal marking its territory.

You emit a sound somewhere between a painful screech and a moan while Will takes your face in his hand. Like you were made of glass, his tender touch mixing with the raw animalistic touch of Ettore, causing a swirling of pleasure to radiate up through your stomach.

Will shifts on the gurney, adjusting himself, trying to hide his growing bulge as he watches Ettore take you, all the while providing you with tender words and caresses.

Your mouth hangs open as Ettore roughly drags his cock against your walls battering your insides with reckless abandon. Your eyes connected to Will's as he wipes the tears that stream down your face.

Ettore reaches up and once again grips your hair, yanking your head back.

"You're a little fucking whore aren't ya?" His breathing is labored, each of his thrusts somehow seeming harsher than the last.

"Yes, yes," you whimper your mind blank and fully submissive.

"Then act like one," he grunts as he shoves your head down harshly, your face pushed up against the erection hidden within Will's trousers.

Will looks at Ettore with anger lacing his face.

"You don't have to do anything for me. Don't worry about me. " he pushes Ettore's hand away from the back of your head and caresses the recently abused area with a gentle touch.

"I ... I want to" your voice bounces as Ettore continues to slam into you from behind the skin on your ass going numb from the repeated skin to skin smacking.

"Uhh..." Will's voice is unsteady as you bring your hand up to his bulge, gripping his length over his trousers. He closes his eyes and groans at the pressure, shocks of electricity traveling up his spine.

You pull at the trousers and Will lifts himself up for a moment allowing you to get them down enough to free his cock.

"Only if this is what you want" He says breathlessly as he grips his length tightly the angry red tip leaking pre cum.

"Fuck!" Ettore growls loudly from behind you digging his fingernails into your skin. "Do it you little fucking whore."

At Ettore's demand you take the tip of Will's cock into your mouth swirling your tongue around the tip moaning as you taste the pre cum that has begun to collect there. "Shitttt," Will moans as he pushes your hair out of your face, giving him a better view of you with his cock in your mouth.

Ettore's thrusts grow harder forcing Will's cock further into your mouth as he begins to involuntarily buck his hips. "You're so fucking pretty, so pretty" Will moans stroking the back of your head gently as Ettore's cock continues to roughly spear your cunt and Will's cock batters the back of your throat being pushed further and further until you struggle for oxygen.

Ettore grabs at your ass digging his fingers into the skin before bringing his hand around your hip and rubbing furiously at your pearl.

"Cum you dumb slut. I want to feel you clench around my cock as I fill you up" he snarls like an animal in heat leaning down and biting into the soft skin of your back.

you whimper at the demand and the pain, feeling your climax creep up closer and closer, unable to do anything but succumb to his wishes.

"Let go beautiful," Will whispers pleasure etched across his strong features, his thrusts into your eager mouth growing sloppier by the second.

With his gentle words and Ettore's rough touch, your orgasm wracks your entire frame. You moan loudly in pleasure, eyes rolling back, and legs nearly buckling beneath you.

You hear a loud grunt from behind you as Ettore empties himself into you, his fingernails again digging into the plush flesh of your hips.

Will thrusts into your mouth twice more before he whimpers releasing a salty stream of cum down your throat before collapsing back on the gurney.

Ettore pulls himself from your quivering walls and pulls up his trousers quickly, moving back to his gurney and plopping himself down with a satisfied huff.

Will slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth pulling your face up towards him and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You alright?" He asks as he rubs your back soothingly.

You're too winded to speak and can only absent-mindedly nod towards him. He fixed his trousers before leaning over and helping you pull your own bottoms up.

"C'mere," he coos, pulling you onto the gurney with him cuddling you with his free arm.

"You did so good. So, so good, baby. " he kisses your shoulder and gently rubs your hip where Ettore had dug into your flesh.

You jump from the gurney quickly as you hear the deep voices of the guards nearing the door. Running over to Ettore and sliding his cuff back onto the metal bar of the gurney and popping it in place, hoping they wouldn't notice that it is broken.

You fix your hair as quick as you can and wipe the tears out from under your eyes as the door swings open.

"Everything go alright in here?" one of the guards asks, hardly looking at you before moving over to Ettore and unlocking his cuff.

"Yes," you clear your throat, trying to make sure to hide any hint of your dazed and satisfied condition.

"They are both fine and cleared to go back to their cells." You wave your hand towards the door dismissively. Your ultimate goal is to get all of these men out of your exam room immediately.

Ettore is removed first. He says nothing just drags his eyes up and down your frame once more before being dragged out the door.

Will, on the other hand, smiles toward you as he is led out behind him.

"Next time I'm coming alone!" He yells just as the door closes.

You sit down in your chair winded, confused and aching.

"Next time?"

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[epandoniah]

Now, I've been very consistently calling myself 'easily pleased' when it comes to television in general, most of all because I give having fun much more importance than actual plot integrity and structural consistencies and whatnot. All this to say, what we do in the shadows very successfully managed to completely destroy itself in my eyes.

Because, and here's the thing, I genuinely cannot make myself to call that finale, and the last season in general, 'having fun.' All the seasons before were actually very fun, even with their problems, but this one dragged on and on with no real point and episodes that bordered on boring. A lot of the characters became grating and annoying even if they weren't before. And, of course, there was the problem with Nandermo, which truthfully, has for a long time been the selling point of the show, and yet there was absolutely zero progress towards it, whereas previous seasons took great steps for it to be finalised.

But, a great finale has the power to save a season- and maybe that's why it was so hated. All last hopes for a rescue of that 'white bread with no crust' last season were placed on that episode, and whilst it was a fine enough piece of television, it completely failed as an ending to a six years long series which has been having terrible trouble in keeping itself relevant as of late.

Why did it fail? The real question is, how could it not? I definitely understand the appeal- I also enjoyed it much more than I did a lot of the other ones of the season. I enjoyed the references to the first one, the crude humour that so strongly reminds of earlier seasons and truthfully, better times. But as someone who has been here for the past three years, patiently watching the show and the not-so-subtle signs of something between Nandor and Guillermo, waiting for some sort of resolution, I feel, ironically, like Guillermo himself- Like I wasted my time.

The problem is not that Nandermo didn't become canon. The problem is that it had no resolution, no acknowledgement, nothing much more of a last word than sentimentalities and things which would be great for an ending of a season, if it wasn't the last one of the show. Truthfully, it all just felt like everything we have seen before, watered down, like the old documentary the vampires watched, except, this time, the butt of the joke was the audience.

All of this is made infinitely worse by the 'it was all a dream' alternative ending. Truly, the jokes write themselves- The laugh tracks. The whole notion that it's 'what the audience wants most.' Call me old, but, haven't we seen this exact same thing with Sherlock and Moriarty, House and Wilson, and so many others? Three time's the charm and by this point we can tell when we're being made fun of. This, is us being made fun of.

And for what, really? For eating what they, themselves, put on the table? For believing what they said? Is this an exercise in not trusting anyone? Because I genuinely feel like a child being made to fall backwards only to never be caught by the parent, so they can learn to never trust.

With Nandermo off the table, everyone else stayed pretty much completely neglected. Other than Nadja's newfound and impressive understanding of psychology, everyone was presented very little, mostly background noise to the lukewarm almost-ending of Nandor and Guillermo.

To conclude- this season, and this finale, were unfortunately, not very fun. I wish I could say they were, but they weren't, and this saddens me beyond thought, because I genuinely love this show.

There's a lot more to be said, but I genuinely just want to keep wwdits a fond memory, and not a sour waste of time. For me, wwdits has not ended, and never will- it will stay stabilised and unmoving like that, much like the vampires themselves.

Thank you for reading.

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

FEARLESS - You Belong With Me

Rafe Cameron x Reader Taylor Swift AU

Warnings: Not with the OBX plot, Sofia sucks, Rafe low-key sucks, language, not proofed

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset. She's going off about something that you said, 'cause she doesn't get your humor like I do.

You were sitting in your room, pushing yourself in circles on your desk chair while Rafe was on the phone with Sofia, sitting on your bed. They've been going back and forth about a comment he'd made about Homecoming.

I'm in my room, it's a typical Tuesday night. I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like and she'll never know your story like I do.

You had been working on your APLit homework, and had light music in the background, something that Sofia had commented on when Rafe called her.

"Jesus, what the fuck are you listening to?"

"Uh, sorry, hey could you turn it down?" His hand was muffling the microphone. "Thanks."

Now, you could hear her yelling on the other line that he didn't take her out yesterday like she'd told him to.

"Babe, I told you, I had a meeting with my dad's company. I couldn't take you anywhere."

Sofia wasn't hearing any of it.

"Rafe, you are my fucking boyfriend. You aren't treating me right. You're probably hanging out with Y/N, right? How many times have I told you to stop talking to her?"

Rafe immediately got up and went to a different room.

You watched as he left, heart sinking to the depths of your stomach.

'Cause she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time.

You blocked out Rafe's muffled conversation, thinking about the differences between you and Sofia. She and Rafe were the perfect high school movie plot-line. The quarterback and the leader of the cheer squad. You were always at his games, just cheering on from the bleachers. Your viewpoint allowed you to see all the flirting Sofia was doing with all the other players with access to Daddy's Money. It annoyed you to no end that Rafe couldn't see her gold-digging tendencies.

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me, you belong with me.

You couldn't see how Rafe was blind to the fact that you were the one for him. You had always been there for him.

Walk in the streets with you and your worn-out jeans. I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be. Laughing on a park bench thinking to myself, "hey isn't this easy?"

You thought about the nights you and Rafe would hang out before he started dating Sofia. He was just so easy to hang out with. You weren’t thinking about acting a certain way or watching what you were saying.

And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town, I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down.

You remembered a joke you had told him that made him laugh the hardest you ever seen from him. His laugh, and smile, were contagious. The way his white teeth lit up everything and the sparkle in his blue eyes when they crinkled.

Now looking back on that day, you hadn’t seen Rafe smile like that since.

You say you're fine I know you better than that. Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

You wanted to ask him about it, but his relationship was a touchy subject. You didn’t want Sofia, or God forbid Rafe, to get suspicious of your feelings toward him.

'Cause she wears high-heels, I wear sneakers. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time.

In order to pass the time, you pull up Sofia’s Instagram, scrolling through the mass of photos she’s posted. She is gorgeous. Of course she is… you zoom in on a particular photo of her and Rafe on the football field at half-time of a recent game. He looks at her like she’s his whole world and she’s smirking at the camera. Almost like she’s taunting you.

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me.

Further in the background of the photo, you can be seen, holding Rafe’s helmet, smiling at him like a goofy love-sick child.

Standing by and waiting at your back door. All this time, how could you not know, baby? You belong with me, you belong with me.

You shut your phone off and get up from the chair, opting for the comfort of your bed. The front door of your house opens and closes. As you open your blinds to peer through, you get a text from Rafe.

Had to go, sorry. See you at school.

You could hear his truck start, the headlights lighting up your room. You like the message and then curl up to the head of your bed.

Oh, I remember you drivin' to my house in the middle of the night. I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry.

He always chooses her. Every time. You think back to all those times when Rafe would call you crying after a fight with his father. You'd always welcome him with open arms. comforting him as he sobbed into your shoulder. Consoling him with kind words after he would berate himself about not being good enough. The way Ward made him feel broke your heart.

I know you're favorite songs, and you tell me 'bout your dreams. Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me.

Staring at the ceiling of your room, you begin to feel anger. You knew other people in the Outerbanks thought it was odd that Rafe was with Sofia and not you. Topper had even talked to you about how he and Kelce were always "Team Y/N" and not "Team Sofia".

"You know everything about him and she is only with him for the sex. It's so weird."

You rolled your eyes at Topper.

You and the guys, Rafe, Top, and Kelce, were at the country club. Rafe had just stepped outside to answer yet another one of Sofia's angry phone calls.

"To be honest, she's such a bitch."

"Kelce!" You look behind you, double-checking that no one of importance is behind you. "You shouldn't say that."

Kelce merely shrugs.

Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? Been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me.

You opened your own instagram, scrolling through the numerous photos you had posted with Rafe. It was a mirroring of his with Sofia. You were looking at him with all of the love in the world meanwhile he was just smiling for the camera.

Standing by and waiting at your back door. All this time, how could you not know, baby?

Had you not made it obvious enough? Cancelling plans at a text from him saying "Can I come over?". You were so in love with him it was laughable.

You belong with me, you belong with me.

Opening your texts with Rafe again you began to type a message.

I love you

You belong with me.

Your shaking fingers hover over the send button.

Have you ever just thought, maybe, "You belong with me"?

Just then, a text comes in from a new number.

you need to stop talking to rafe or ill make you wish you were dead.

Your heart stopped.

Sofia.

You belong with me.

You deleted your message to Rafe, shut off your phone, and curled into a fetal position.

All you wanted was him.

All you wanted was for him to love you back.

Hi. Lol.

[deathbxnny]

hihi, may I request platonic wriothesley hcs with a teen!reader who is the youngest inmate? >:3

Hello there! I absolutely love this idea and am so excited to write it, hehe! I hope you'll like this, Anon!<33

Content: Platonic mentor/student dynamic, fluff, teen reader, some mentions of violence, Reader is troubled, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

Wriothesley couldn't help but raise a brow, when he saw your sentencing for the first time on paper. You were the typical troubled teen, one that caused ruckus and didn't know how to control their anger due to your life spent out on the ruthless streets. But different than most, you had actually gotten yourself into the fortress, despite your young age. Not that it really matters to the court, he figured.

He took it upon himself to greet you first, mainly because he felt like that was safer. He expected some pushback or anger, but instead was met by calm irritation on your part. Other than that, you simply accepted your fate, grimly noting that you've been through worse. The older man just nods, although he oddly feels a soft spot for you, forming rather quickly. Perhaps you remind him too much of himself.

Being the youngest inmate quickly made you rather... popular among the other prisoners, something that ofcourse reached Wriothesley's ears first, who then promptly made sure you worked right under him to keep you safe. He wanted to help you out, perhaps rehabilitate you well enough, that the court perhaps sees how harsh it was and allows you to go free again.

He is patient and makes sure you know that you can open up to him at any time. He eventually jokingly calls himself your mentor, but you know better than to think it was just a simple comment. Because over time, that actually became true. Whether you liked it or not.

To deal with your frustrations and troubles, he decides that a more "healthier" way to let everything out is by training with you in the boxing ring. He teaches you how to fight, how to defend yourself. It comes in handy down here. And at the end of each lesson, he gets you a couple snacks as a reward for doing well, no matter if you actually did or not.

Drinking tea with him often is a daily thing eventually as well. It helps you open up to him and his jokes also start making you laugh from time to time. He also takes the time to inquire if someone or something is bothering you when you seem down. And if he finds out that someone has been hurting or bullying you? Well, perhaps he should reassert his title as a Duke to the troublemakers.

You're also forced to partake in weekly checkups with Sigewinne to make sure that you're physically as healthy as you can be, considering your young age. Wriothesley sees it as essentially and skillfully evades your whining and complaining by promising you more of your favorite snacks. It always works, much to your dismay.

You're always seen standing behind or next to the Duke whenever he's welcoming important guests into the Fortress. And whenever anyone asks who you are, he simply grins and places a hand on your head, before introducing you as his favorite little "right hand henchman". He chuckles at the annoyed roll of your eyes, but doesn't miss the content ghost of a smile on your lips from the corner of his eye.

Alright, I really hope this was fine, Anon! And congrats for being my first request of this year! I haven't written anything in a while and therefore hope I'm not too rusty... but either way, requests are currently open and am excited for the next one's! <33

[malarkgirlypop]

What the Easy men are ticketed for when driving

Richard Winters:

He has all of his paperwork at the ready the police officer doesn’t even have to ask. He’s very apologetic, but he didn’t do anything wrong. Dick politely chats with the officer, he’s not intimidated by the man but he’s being cautious. When the officer says he made a mistake and lets him go, Dick is very understanding. They even exchange information, talk about meeting up. You feel like a third wheel for a hot sec. He has never had a ticket.

Lewis Nixon:

IM NOT DRUNK!!!! I CAN DANCE, I’LL PROVE IT!!! 'Darling stay in the car', proceeds to fall out of the car while trying to exit. The cop and you exchange a glance. You follow the cop car to the station, you can see Nixon’s little head in the back window. He was indeed drunk. Yeah you should've seen it coming he had to blow into a breathalyser before starting the car, turns out that's why you were there.

Harry Welsh:

Nervous around the cop, tries to make small talk but the guy isn’t having it. You sit there in awkward silence as the cops leaves to fill out the paperwork. Harry got pulled over cause he was trying to show you a trick, but the trick was swerving back and forward across the lanes and wasn’t very impressive. Sheepishly takes the fine, with a mumbled apology.

Ronald Speirs:

Asserts dominance over the cop, uses his killer stare. The cop is jumpy under his cold glare. He’s not smug about it, stating facts about the law making the cop look dumb. The officer can tell he’s fighting a losing battle so tries to rescind the fine. Ron is very happy about this reaching out if the window to give the cop a pat on his arm. "It’s ok, people make mistakes". Leaves the police man in the dust before the interaction is truly over. He was speeding, but it was fine, he had somewhere important to be.

Carwood Lipton:

I feel like he would be the same as Winters. Very calm and collected, hearing out the officer. Obviously it's our baby boy and he hasn't done anything wrong. Even if the cop was a total dick, Lip would be so polite and understanding. I think it would piss off the cop that he wasn't talking back, giving a "Have a good night officer", as the cop marches away muttering under his breath. I'm sure he would turn to you saying, "shall we?" before pulling away from the curb. He did nothing wrong, Lip getting fined. Ha! You wish.

George Luz:

Thinks he is a stand up comedian and can get out of the ticket by telling jokes. Unfortunately for Luz he gets the most grumpy, stoic officer of all time. George crashes and burns with each quip and pun, you sink lower in your seat hoping the ground will swallow you whole, (we all know second hand embarrassment is the silent killer). Finally he receives the ticket and you sit in silence while he re-thinks his entire life. Before making the most ridiculous remark sending everyone into hysterics. He is very proud of himself, "I knew I still got it. He was just a bad crowd." Very pleased with himself he doesn't even care he got a ticket. What was the ticket you ask. Trying to stand and drive. Yeah this isn't his first time either, yikes George.

Joe Toye:

Yeah no this man never gets pulled over. Even if he does, he will evade the police. His brag is that he has never been ticketed. Well, they have never been able to catch him to give it to him. He will never tell you what he does to be chased by the police, the mystery of it all. Bill says its cause he's a shit driver.

Bill Guarnere:

Knows everyone, so when he is pulled over all you get is, "Wild Bill you mad dog, I haven't seen you in years!" Buddies with the whole police force, gets let off the hook way too often. Has broken all the laws, but hey when you know everyone, what really are laws?

Joe Liebgott:

You all might think he's a bad boy rebel with the most tickets out of the lot. But you forget, hes a tried and true cabby. Like Bill he knows everyone, all you have to do is utter his name and you can get a million stories about the man. His brag is that he has never been ticketed, sure he's broken the law, but he never gets caught. Unlike some people *cough cough* Toye. But hey Toye hasn't actually been caught, just been in multiple car chases.

David Webster:

He's offended you think he drives. Clearly passenger seat princess, put some respect on his name. Has been fined for not wearing a seatbelt and standing up through the sun roof singing Unwritten, but that's just a vibe and he has the ticket framed on his wall.

Buck Compton:

The self proclaimed 'best driver of the group'. He's daddy and drives around his baby boy's. He's like the dad that picks you up from Saturday sport, 'who wants to stop at McDonalds?' His car is the vibe, everyone always fights over who rides with him on road trips. Has the best songs and snacks for the road trips, he laughs in the face of tickets, this man is untouchable and has a squeaky clean record. May have tried to do a donut, but he'll never tell.

Eugene Roe:

Pfft, this man getting pulled over. You're dreaming. The most calm driver. He's like my nana, anyone heard of the story the tortoise and the hare, yeah well he's the tortoise. No one wants to drive with him if they need to be somewhere in a hurry, he's too nice and gives way to everyone. This man panics when the police pass him, even when he's doing nothing wrong.

Babe Heffron:

If Gene is the tortoise, then Babe is definitely the hare. Hold on for dear life if you ride with this man. The most chaotic driving of all time. Over taking, under taking, side by side taking? Yeah he does it all. You see orange light, he sees pedal to the metal. Speed limits are just suggestions to this man. The amount of fines and tickets this man gets in a year he could buy a whole other car.

Donald Malarkey:

He's a good driver, but boy oh boy he's easily distracted. If you're sitting in the back showing photos to the rest of the boys, he's turning around fully in the seat to see what's going on. The most common phrase in his car is, "Don watch the road!" He's a fun driver having the best songs and also has karaoke mics in the car that he hands back, but please encourage him to keep both hands on the wheel and both eyes on the road. The ads the are on the side of the road are catered just for him, he can't help himself when he sees something flashy. Has rear ended a car or two, maybe one of them was a police officer, but no one was there to see it.

Skip and Penk:

They don't drive. Skip is clearly a passenger princess and Alex is a backseat babe! Just tell them to please keep all limbs inside the car. Should not be allowed in Malarks car as they are the reason for his distraction but the love it, you will have to pry them out of the car they aren't splitting up!!

[ramblingautisticman]

A Gift In The Making

Chapter 1 - Decorating In November

Summary : Logan has a problem. What the fuck does he get Wade for Christmas?

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.)

(Okay, so I'm pretty excited about this little fic! Hopefully everyone enjoys it! Not sure when the next chapter will be out, but I know the last one will be out on Christmas Day! Anyway, enjoy, and link to the A03 version in is in the title!)

--------------------------------------------------------

Logan had left Wade in bed at roughly 9am, getting up to let Mary Puppins out to pee and by the time he got back, Logan was met with Wade decorating the apartment for Christmas. In November.

They had moved in a week ago- had all their belongings still in boxes- but apparently he had found the Christmas stuff.

Music was playing softly in the background as Wade stood in the corner of the living room, hanging ornaments on a tall pine tree (that he really hoped was plastic), humming along to the whatever festive song was playing.

"You uh...you know it's not even December yet, right princess?" He asked as he stepped inside and closed the door, placing Mary down on the floor, watching as she ran over to Wade's feet.

"Peanut! Your back! And yes, I know it isn’t December yet, but who doesn't love the festive spirit? Plus, this is your first Christmas here, and our first Christmas together, so I wanted to get a head start on it! Also, I may have seen a tiktok where someone put their decorations up and I instantly needed to put our tree up." Wade rambled, kneeling down to pet Mary's head, then standing back up and walking over to Logan with a huge smile on his face.

And okay, initially he was thinking of telling Wade to take it down for atleast a few more weeks, but he looks so happy that he couldn't bring himself to do so. "Well- it looks good. I like the tinsel." He comment, kissing Wade briefly on the lips before heading into the kitchen and grabbing a soda from the fridge.

He had been sober for a good 4 months now, and Logan wasn't planning on breaking that anytime soon. Wade made it easier, helped when he had a rough day, and they kept alot of soda in the fridge so he could have something in a can. It helped, having something familiar.

"You know, you've never mentioned anything about celebrating holidays. You better celebrate Christmas- if you don't because of religious reasons or whatever, fine- but I'm keeping my decorations up. It took me years to collect all of them!" Wade's voice brought him away from his thoughts, opening the can with a small chuckle, looking up at the other.

"I'm not religious. I don't think I could be living with you- I'd be going to hell if I was." He joked, sipping on his soda before leaning against the counter behind him. "Anyway, I do like Christmas. Just- haven't celebrated in awhile. That's all. Never really had anyone to celebrate with after....everything." Logan added on quietly, looking away.

It was still hard to talk about- his X-Men and what happened to them- but he was getting better. He didn't have a panic attack when people mentioned them now, and he could bring them up himself without feeling sick, which he thought was progress.

Christmas had always been a big deal in the mansion. Mostly for the kids- the ones who didn't have anywhere else to go. The team always made sure that they got to have a christmas like any other kid- getting them each a few presents that they wanted- and showed them that they always had a family here. No matter what.

Logan had never thought about celebrating Christmas after they died, or any other event for that matter. Birthdays, Halloween, Christmas- they had all been such happy funfilled events with the whole school that they left a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thought of them.

But here he was, a new family and a new home, people to celebrate with. It had been strange, having people to do that with.

They celebrated everything together. Birthdays, Halloween, and anything else that gave them a reason to all gather at Wade's place and eat pizza. Why wouldn't Christmas be the same?

"Well....we don't have to celebrate. If you don't want too- I don't mind. I can deal with it like the big boy I am- but I do expect you to watch some 90 Day Fiance with me as thanks to my understanding." Wade teased, hoping to lighten the mood as he moved to stand infront of Logan, gently wrapping his arms around the others neck.

Logan smiled alittle, looking back towards Wade's eyes, and placing his free hand on his waist. "No- we can celebrate. Just haven't in awhile, that's all. Makes me remeber celebrating with the team...but, I will be very happy to spend Christmas with you and your friends." He said softly, kissing Wade with a smile, slowly pulling away after a second. "Plus, you seem very excited.....and I really don't want to watch that crap again." Logan added, a smirk on his face.

"They are OUR friends Peanut. And yeah- it's always been my favourite holiday. Ever since I was a kid. It was the one day I got a break from my asshole dad, because my family would come over and he couldn't yell at me with guests there. Anyway- away from the angsty headcannons the author clearly wants to insert- do you wanna help me put the rest of the lights on the tree?" Wade asked with a kiss to Logan's cheek, moving away and towards the living room again. "Also, that show is hilarious and you should love it!"

For the rest of November, they would cuddle on the couch under the Christmas tree lights, watching reruns of Golden Girls on the TV that was surrounded by small decorations.

And as Christmas got closer and closer (and by closer and closer, Logan means 3 weeks away), Wade got to planning the big day itself, running everything past Logan as he did.

"So, Laura said she wants to come over Christmas Eve and stay the night- which I'm all for! I'm thinking we can watch movies and eat cookies and it'll be awesome!" "Do you think Al would like a new TV for Christmas?" "We need to get Mary Puppins an ugly Christmas sweater Peanut!"

It seemed never ending, but Logan could see how much this all meant to Wade, so Logan agreed with whatever his partner wanted. He didn't mind what they did, as long as their family were over. Plus, he was alittle distracted with something himself.

He didn't know what to get Wade. At all.

Logan had already gotten everyone else presents (Wade had dragged him to the mall the second week of November), with most of them being from Wade and Logan as joint gifts, but Wade was different. Wade needed something special.

This was their first Christmas together and Wade had done so much for him over this past 10 months, letting him move in with him and teaching him to love again- so Logan wanted (needed) to find a gift that showed how much he cared for him. How much he appreciated everything Wade had done.

And you'd think, well Wade likes so many things, shouldn't that be easy? And the answer would be no. No it wasn't.

Half of the things Wade liked were either kids shows, or weapons, and Logan really wasn't sure how he could get a meaningful gift that involved both bluey and a pistol.

Thankfully, after another week if thinking, he got an idea.

[baohanhanesel]

Mom of the TF141

Mentioned: Simon Ghost Riley, John Soap Mactavish, Kyle Gaz Garrick, Captain John Price.

It was the fact you knew how to comfort each one of them. They loved some homemade goods after a bad mission. The freshly bandages wounds, aching pain and the headaches were best cured with homemade lentil soup and homemade meatballs with potatoes. You knew they didn't remember the last time they had a homemade meal. So you took the opportunity and comforted them with it.

Ghost liked to be silent while he ate the goods and after that he'd disappear to his room to rest for the day. You'd make sure to send him a bowl of the biscuits you baked so he has snacks to munch at night if he can't sleep.

Soap was the type of guy to talk everything out and you'd listen. You'd listen to him tell you about everything in his mind mission related or not. Most of the time it wouldn't be mission related, he would just want to move on quite fast. You'd sit across from him, see him down the second plate while he talked. He'd occasionally get tired of stuffing his mouth and talking so you had to do a bit of talking as well. "You say so?" "That sounds interesting." "Oh wow. I haven't seen you talk about that before!" "Johnny..." "What? For real? What happened after that?"

Gaz sometimes had tears in the corner of his eyes while he stuffed his mouth shut with a spoonful of lentil soup. He'd never let them fall, not before you gave him the flag to do so. "Kyle, it is fine. You are fine." You wouldn't mention his tears while he ate, or when he decided to talk to you about the mission and how it could have been successful. You could see he valued your words a lot. And that made you feel special, as special as you were for him.

Price was the grumpy type. He had the furrowed eyebrows until he started to eat. After he got that done, he'd soften a bit but you'd still notice the subtle anger in him. You knew at those times joking wasn't a way out, so you just gave his shoulders a pat. "You did everything you could have, John. You know you did." If he denied so, you'd hush him. "No talking back. Why don't you go lay down?" He wouldn't be against the idea if it came from you. He trusted you and the comfortable warmth your words made him feel was indescribable. He could never put a word on it.

It was the fact they all respected you a shit ton. A recruit badmouthing you or even talking to you as an equal? They were very quick to jump at them.

Ghost would glare at first, cursing them in his head for thinking they are your equal. They were not. They didn't have the right to think you were like the others in the base. You were much more important. You were a warmth he never thought that was left in this hellhole of a world. If they went as far as to insult you, he would threaten the recruit behind your back. Grabbing the back of their throat and whispering in a deadly tone. That they were nothing other than a piece of shit on the sidewalk and they would better remember their place before Ghost would teach them where it was. Every time without an exception you'd never see that recruit look into your eyes ever again.

Soap threw a dirty look, asking the recruit overwhelming tons of questions and humiliating them. If they thought they were your equal that was embarrassing. Soap would make them realize how embarrassing they were by asking questions. "Ohh name three times you calmed down an angry Captain after a 48 hour mission." "Name me one time you walked up to Ghost and got him to talk." If they insulted you, it was nothing but a fist straight into their face. No warnings. Nothing. Just a good punch. After that? That recruit wouldn't be seen anywhere within your eye range.

Gaz would openly say they were stupid for thinking of themselves as your equal. He would give them many reasons why they are not. When he witnessed someone insulting you? He rolled his sleeves and prepared his fists but never got to attack the recruit before they ran away. Gaz didn't waste his time tracking the fucker down. He would have. If you hadn't stopped him and told him the recruit was just a rookie.

Price would lecture the recruits. "This woman right here saw more blood than any of you did. She saw more dead bodies than more people you got to know in your pathetic lives." There was no stopping him if he started his lecture already. He wouldn't stop without seeing the shame on the soldier's faces. You would try stopping him though, even if you knew he wouldn't. When would you not try? When he heard you get insulted by someone. That was off limits for you because you knew he saw red when it happened. He'd get very scary with the strict voice and if necessary a collar grab. He'd only calm down after seeing tears in the recruit's eyes or hear their babbles of apologies. If he could fire soldiers for disrespecting you, he would. But he was a smart man and instead of giving up on a lost cause he'd just bend them into manners with more force.

It was the time you called them your boys. It was a calm evening and they had made you so happy, talking and joking peacefully with each other. Seeing them so good and well mannered with one another had made you so happy back then you called them your boys. "I am so happy my boys are so good with one another. Wouldn't change anything for your team bond."

Ghost paused, looking at you in disbelief. He felt a huge crash in his heart and a huge smile on his face matching it. He didn't remember the last time he got this emotional over being mentioned before. He was a grown man, for fuck's sake. He didn't say anything and only kept joking around with the way you said it. Your phrase made him realize that he was one of your boys indeed and that he has been seeing you as his mother figure.

Soap laughed so damn loudly. "Yeah? Seeing our lady happy makes me damn happy." He would get next to you and hug you. As much as he tried to seem he was cool and he totally wasn't affected with the way you called them your boys he was affected horribly. He was so damn happy that you saw him as your boy. He had made peace with the idea in his head before, the idea that you were a mother figure for him. So hearing you say that so casually made him feel like a little child.

Gaz felt his cheeks flush. He was embarrassed. He didn't think hearing that from you could get him this embarrassed, but it had. He wanted to hear you say it again but he would rather dig himself a hole than to ask that of you. He already had a hard time not calling you mom, you were making it very hard for him to not make that mistake. Granted if he accidentally called you mom, he'd disappear for a few days to process what he just did.

Price smiled lovingly. Looking you in the eyes with admiration in them. He admired you so much. You were a brave motherly woman and for him you meant a lot. Hearing you say "My boys" got him so happy you had no idea. He had always seen this team as a family, and you not speaking otherwise gave him the flag to freely call you "mom" even as a joke. You'd take the joke well, that much he knew it. He thought of you as a comforting mother since the day you got close with him. Your smile, your words and your pats on the shoulder. You made him want to cry because of how comfortable you made him feel.