#it’s been almost five years since I ran away from home and | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onaswife · 18 days ago

Text

A pleasant reunion

Couple: Ingrid Engen x reader

Ingrid G!P

Note: This is my first G!P story so there may be some big mistakes or weird things, but I'll try to improve over time. Smut. I tried to follow the original idea, sorry if I missed a lot, but it's honest work 🤞🏻✨️original idea from @sachanobie

You had made your debut in your home country, the Netherlands.

FC Twente Vrouwen had been your home for over five years; you loved that club, but you felt it was time to take on new challenges in your career.

During your UEFA Women's Champions League campaign, you had caught the attention of many foreign teams, including the team where your sister played in England.

The last few months at the club were hectic; you received offers every other day, each one better than the last. You were on the verge of accepting the offer from Olympique Lyonnais, which promised you many good things, but only a two-year contract, a good salary, and an apartment in the team residence.

You considered it; you even had to call your sister to ask her what she thought about the contract they had offered you, since it was the first contract you had received from an international club. After she told you you could ask for better things and cut short your dream of leaving for so little, it seemed as if, almost magically, the best contract they'd offered you had fallen through the cracks.

Barcelona FC.

You couldn't deny being excited that the team was interested in you. You'd been a fan since you were little, watching Iniesta play and seeing the magic he had when it came to playing. It made you quite excited, but you were insecure. How would you do it being so far away from your family, with a language you didn't know and that was so difficult for you, on top of having to meet new people (which made you quite anxious; between you and your sister, you were the shyest).

Although you didn't reject the offer, you kept them waiting.

It went on like that for a week… or maybe a little longer, a few days… a month, actually.

And you were going to keep putting it off until the day you played your last Champions League match with your club (which also hadn't wanted to renew your contract), you were visited by one of FC Barcelona's recruiters, wanting to talk to you about the contract, while your sister and your agent waited in the tunnel.

You had a pleasant farewell on national soil after losing 7-3 to Wolfsburg.

The match was quite lively, aggressive more than anything. You were fighting tooth and nail to try to equalize the score against the German team, but you hadn't had many opportunities. The green team seemed to know every move your teammates were planning, which was starting to tire you out.

The play began in the 26th minute, with an inside pass from the center backs as they evaded the opposing team's forwards. Lynn played a long pass that landed at Renate's feet, who quickly flicked a short cross to Bente.

Two defenders rushed to block some kind of pass she had in mind, until she saw you near the right wing, while your defender was closing down another of your teammates, leaving you with enough space.

At minute 27:56, you received the pass over the top. It was coming quite quickly. You settled in, and as soon as the ball dropped low enough, at minute 28:00, you volleyed it home, scoring the most beautiful goal of that match. It took a magnificent spin and nestled in the left corner while the goalkeeper was on the ground, beating it in frustration.

You didn't have time to celebrate as you listened to your defender seemingly insulting the air. You ran toward the goal, picked up the ball, and placed it in the center of the field, ready to continue playing.

During the first goal, the fans couldn't stop screaming and chanting your name, celebrating that lucky goal that had fallen right in the 28th minute. The same number you wore on your back with such pride because it meant so much to you. It was your and your sister's birthdates.

The match ended sadly, mostly because of the defeat and your early departure. All your teammates gathered in a large circle while the captain gave a speech that made you cry. When the girls from the other team realized what was happening, some came over and joined in the farewell while you continued to cry but also smiled.

At the end of the speech, one by one, they approached you to hug you and wish you luck. Ingrid Engen was one of those people; even though she wasn't on your team, she approached you and offered you a warm and friendly hug.

"I hope your next club values you and that you enjoy this new stage."

Her voice was so beautiful, you could listen to it all day and never get bored. You tightened your arms around her as you gently caressed her back with your outstretched hand, feeling her body heat.

"I hope the same for you… I hope we can continue sharing the field in the future."

She pulled away from the hug as she placed her hand on your cheek and gave you a soft, toothy smile. You froze at the touch of it on your skin. As she walked away, talking to one of her teammates, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. She wished you luck, so you wouldn't be paralyzed later, unable to do anything.

After the fans' farewells and the traditional lap to sign and take photos with your fans, you walked slowly toward the tunnel, listening for the last time to hear your name being chanted in the stands.

Your agent was waiting for you with a sad smile on his face, his nose red as were his eyes, a sign that he'd been crying just like you. You walked over to him and hugged him. They both knew everything you'd been through that season and how it hurt so much.

A few meters further into the tunnel was your sister, who was talking to the Barcelona scout. From where you were standing, you could see it was a rather serious conversation; neither of them stopped talking and they were moving their hands emphatically.

You walked slowly, having separated yourself from your agent's arms and being followed by him. When they both noticed you, they fell silent. Daniëlle quickly opened her arms when she saw that your eyes were still watering, and you quickly bumped your body into hers.

You stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but were actually minutes, being comforted by your older sister as she whispered words of encouragement.

That same afternoon, you signed your contract with Barcelona, accompanied by your family.

And five months later, you were already having your first training session with the team.

You lived in an apartment 20 minutes away from Joan Gamper, but even so, you had gotten up early that day, mostly because you were eager to meet all your new teammates, with whom you'd be sharing a locker room for the next few years.

You got up and took a shower, hoping that would hopefully clear your mind of the day's bad prospects. After getting dressed and combing your hair, you called your mom. She calmed your mind and said everything would be fine. You believed her.

You arrived at least 30 minutes early, nerves racing through your body. The coach was waiting for you, along with Alexia, since you'd said you'd be arriving early. The two of them took the time to show you around Joan Gamper and welcome you.

After that, the day went by normally. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious about your new club. You didn't know any of the girls since you'd never played with them, which made you feel a little insecure.

At lunchtime, you didn't know who to sit with. You still felt like you couldn't possibly meet anyone since you'd never shared a court or anything. Except for Hansen.

You had played against her a few times when she played for Wolfsburg. You decided to sit alone. You needed to review what had happened during the day, see what you needed to improve in your performance, and give yourself encouragement to keep going.

You felt a presence next to you. You looked at who sat next to you and found Caroline. She looked back at you with a small nod as you began to eat.

"I thought you'd sit with the others," you said in a low voice as you began to play with your food. It was more of a routine than a way to avoid eating. You needed to see everything on your plate before you could start eating.

"I think I appreciate them… a lot, but sometimes I need silence when eating… or doing any activity. They have too much energy for me." When you heard her speak, her tone similar to yours, you couldn't help but smile; you felt exactly like her.

They had all welcomed you, but during the day, you realized that, compared to you, they exuded much more energy than you could handle in a day. Maybe it was because they had grown up with lots of sunshine, and you grew up in a place where it was more common for it to rain cats and dogs than to have a full day of sunshine. And maybe that was true, since Caro had a personality similar to yours, and she was from Norway, almost a neighbor of the Netherlands.

From that brief interaction you had that day, Caro and you became inseparable. Wherever she was, you were there, and vice versa. You seemed glued to the hip, the best of friends.

That's why you were the first to find out about Ingrid's arrival to the team. Caro told you, quite excitedly, during a phone call after an international break.

You couldn't help but feel excited by the news. You couldn't deny that Ingrid made your heart flutter in your chest and made you feel those typical butterflies in your stomach. But you also didn't want to relate to her that way; from what you'd heard, she was in a relationship. You couldn't help but feel jealous of this person who could have Ingrid.

When the international break ended, you were one of the last to return to Barcelona. You wanted to enjoy the few days you could with your family and catch up with your sister, who enjoyed knowing you were okay in Spain. Obviously, you avoided telling her that you didn't talk much with your teammates except when they were playing a game.

You arrived quite tired from the long trip. You went straight to bed, took a short shower to get rid of the airport and airplane smell, and then went to sleep.

Maybe it was 10 minutes or 10 hours, but it was the sound of the doorbell that woke you up. You woke up groggily at the sound, not having been able to take the time you normally take to wake up.

You slowly opened the door, still rubbing your eyes to try to chase away the sleep that still lingered in your body. You froze when you saw who was on the other side of your door.

"What are you doing here, Graham? I need to recover as much energy as possible so I can handle the girls' energy."

You could only stand there like a fool, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Sorry I came by without warning… I told Caroline to text you, but she said it wasn't necessary," she excused herself as she leaned closer to you. You could clearly smell the perfume she was wearing; it was sweet, but not enough to be bothersome.

You stared at her when you saw her lean a little closer to you, as if she wanted to hug you, but didn't dare. And neither did you.

"It's like this. I think we're pretty close. You can come over anytime, too." You gave her a somewhat shy smile as you stepped aside, inviting her in. She gave you a smile, one of those that made your cheeks and chest heat up, as she walked past you, brushing her arm against yours.

You talked about everything and nothing while eating the Chinese food they'd ordered. Caro caught you up on family matters, just as you did. Her brother had started dating one of his teammates from the national team, while your sister started talking to one of her teammates from the new team. From what she'd told you, she liked him.

Ingrid listened to everything silently, while watching them. You could feel her gaze lingering on you for a few minutes longer than usual.

"And you? Tell me you've already met someone," Caro said in a slightly mocking tone as she lightly hit your knee with the back of her hand. You couldn't help but blush at her mockery.

"I think love isn't for me right now… or maybe all the luck in love will end up going to my sister… it's amazing how she always ends up dating some pretty girl." The three of them in the room laughed. When you finished, you leaned completely on Caro's arm, while she pulled away from you slightly to hug you affectionately.

"Tell me that at least this time you were able to talk to her like a normal person and without avoiding her, Caroline." Your voice sounded more subdued due to the sleepiness that had overtaken you again, but Ingrid understood it differently.

Hearing you say it in a more subdued tone, she thought you were in love with Caro, but that you weren't able to tell her how you felt. That made something inside her feel different, distinct, as if she didn't like the fact that you had those feelings for Caroline and not for her.

The next day, you arrived early as usual. In the locker room, you ran into Alexia and Ingrid, who was being given a tour of the Joan Gamper.

Alexia approached you and wrapped you in a tight hug. Alexia had something that made people feel comfortable around her. You liked cuddling with Alexia; she reminded you a lot of Daniëlle, although of course, Alexia was twice your sister's size.

He pulled away from the hug and placed a soft kiss on your hair, then ruffled your hair. You frowned as you let out a sound similar to a grunt, and walked away toward your cubicle. Ingrid looked at you with a soft smile on her lips. You blushed at the sight of her eyes on you, but you smiled back.

This time, she approached you with more confidence and hugged you. She still smelled the same as the last time you hugged; her arms felt like heaven and heaven. "How are you? How did you sleep?" You heard her voice and felt her breath against your ear, as you grew more nervous. "I'm fine. I slept pretty well last night. I was a little more tired, so I'm sorry if I wasn't a good hostess. How are you?"

Ingrid pulled away from the hug, but didn't move far from you. She brought her hand up to your cheek, caressing your cheekbone with her thumb, just like she did when you played for your old club. "I slept pretty well. I enjoyed getting to know you better last night." You could feel Alexia's gaze, a confused one, on the two of you.

Since you'd arrived at the club, you'd seemed comfortable and close with a few teammates, maybe four people. They were the only people you allowed to have that much physical contact with you, or at least longer. With the others, if you accepted hugs when celebrating or greeting someone, you obviously didn't deny them, but you didn't let unspoken hugs last too long either.

And so the next few days went by, they passed normally. Ingrid had already begun to get closer to the other girls on the team, while you remained close to Caro. If you weren't with Caroline, you were usually with Aitana. You got along quite well with her; you understood each other very well on the court and off it too; you were like one person.

Ingrid watched you from afar. You looked pretty good in that sleeveless uniform and the shorts you'd rolled up after losing a ball possession against Alexia. She had to look away before continuing to think about things she shouldn't, as she'd started to feel the familiar tug in her lower stomach.

She walked over to stand next to Fridolina, starting a conversation about training and the outing they were going to do after practice.

They were going to meet at Patri's house to celebrate a team night. They did it every two weeks, or maybe a little more depending on their monthly schedule.

That night was Patri's, and she was the most excited to be hosting. Normally, you didn't go, preferring to rest or catch up with your friends or your sister, who had some very interesting things to tell you lately.

When lunchtime arrived, you were one of the last to walk to the locker room to change from your soccer cleats into some gym shoes. You walked in wondering, or trying to guess, what lunch would be for that day. You were never a big fan of the food they served, but that was because you were used to home-cooked food, or the food your mother made.

You finished putting on the shoe on your right foot when you heard a gasp, followed by a muffled moan. At first, you didn't think anything of it, but as it became more frequent, you worried. What if someone was having a heart attack or something?

You stood up, still barefoot, and walked around the locker room, trying to figure out where the gasps were coming from.

The sounds were coming from one of the restrooms. Your curiosity was already growing rapidly. You wanted to know if someone was really suffering from a health problem or if someone was playing a prank on you, with someone coming out to scare you from that room.

The door was ajar, so you looked through the gap between the door frame and the door, and you saw it.

Ingrid was sitting on a stool with her profile to the door, her shorts bunched around her ankles, and her hand on his member.

You didn't want to look any further; it was still Ingrid's privacy, and you weren't going to break it. So you slowly took a step back and returned to your cubicle to finish putting on the remaining shoe so you could go eat.

You arrived blushing and quickly, after choosing what to eat, sat down in your usual spot, now accompanied by Caroline, Aitana, and the club's newest addition, Fridolina.

The three of you were eating in silence, the only thing you could hear being the clink of cutlery and the laughter of the other girls. You sat down quickly, unable to look up from your plate as the blush lingered on your face.

No one said anything; Graham just looked at you more than usual before continuing to eat. Ingrid appeared 15 minutes later, blushing slightly but as calm as ever.

As soon as she arrived, she started a conversation with Aitana and Fridolina. Caroline and you joined in with small "yeses," "that's right," and "mmmm," too engrossed in your eating—or at least Caroline was. You were lost in your own thoughts, unconsciously thinking about what you had seen.

The day continued like this. You avoided Ingrid as much as you could. If she was using a machine, you went to the other end of the spectrum so you wouldn't run into her and talk to her. It sounded cruel, but you felt quite embarrassed to have walked in on her in such an intimate situation.

Unfortunately, you were convinced by Aitana and Caroline to go to the meeting. You didn't want to, but they insisted so much that you ended up accepting. You had thought about saying yes and then telling them your car was out of gas, or something like that, but Graham quickly told you she would pick you up at your apartment. You had no choice but to accept.

You met Caroline outside your apartment building. She was in the driver's seat, and you climbed in as her passenger.

"I can't believe you're almost exactly the same size as me," she said after greeting you.

"What are you talking about? We're not going…" You were about to continue talking, but you gave her a look and fell silent. You were wearing jeans of a similar color, a t-shirt of the same style and color, and you were both wearing white Adidas sneakers.

You sighed heavily as you threw your head back. "I'll go change. Wait 10 minutes, and I'll be ready." You were about to open the door when you heard your roommate again. "Okay, we can handle a few more hours of banter."

Ever since you started getting close to the Norwegian, all the Spanish girls in the club had started saying that the two of you were in a relationship, but you didn't want to tell them you were officially dating. They were really annoying about it, always saying some stupid thing just to piss them off.

The drive was calm, occasionally talking and then continuing in comfortable silence, filling the space in Caroline's car.

You received a message: "I hope you have a good time today, and don't dwell on Ingrid. What you saw is over. She'll still be your friend, little one. Even so, I'll hit her when I see her for not being able to wait until she gets home, or at least lock the door." You laughed as you read your sister's message, followed by a photo of her with her new girlfriend, who seemed to be waving at you happily. "Ellie says everything will be okay and that she wishes you a good night." "Xoxo, little one." You turned off your phone and put it back in your pocket.

"I'm going to tell you something. I don't care if you don't want to know." You took a breath as you thought about how to say it. You could have told your sister, but it was more of a written message, which was very different from saying it out loud. "I think I caught Ingrid in the middle of a self-love episode." You took a few minutes before looking at her. In those minutes, absolute silence reigned. "I don't think I understood you, Flea," you sighed, trying to figure out how to explain it better. "Oh, well, I think I understood that you saw Ingrid… well, you know, in an intimate moment."

You swallowed nervously as you played with the rings on your fingers. "A few hours ago… in the locker room. I really didn't want to see something like that, but I started hearing gasps and thought, , so I set out to search and found her in a rather compromising position."

"So you didn't see her in the act, do you suppose she was doing that?"

"I don't think I saw her at the moment, but-"

"So you're not sure."

"How should I interpret the image of Ingrid with her pants down and her… thing, you know, her… wand in the air? I was standing there, and she was panting a lot."

Both of you fell silent again, while this time you covered your face with both hands, completely embarrassed by what you had just remembered and said out loud.

"That's why you've been acting weird with her." It was more of an information than a question, because yes, you had been acting strange.

"What else should I do? Dani told me to forget about it, but it's like I've caught you… or Aita, in a compromising situation."

"You'd never catch me in a situation like that. I know how to control myself and close the doors properly."

You groaned in frustration as you threw your head back against the seat again. "Daniëlle told me the same thing."

Upon arrival, the topic now behind them, they continued on their journey and the beginning of the night. They waited, standing side by side in front of the door, greeted by Ingrid and María, who seemed quite delighted to see them arrive together.

"The lovebirds have arrived. How was the trip? Did you enjoy it? Maybe that's why they took so long to arrive?" You listened to María, but you were attentive to Ingrid's face, watching her reaction when she heard María joke.

"Shut your mouth, Maria," Caro replied in a serious tone as she took your wrist and urged you to enter Patri's home. After greeting the girls who had already arrived, you slowly approached with a glass of water to where Patri's birds were. Watching them eat calmed you down.

You stared at them for what felt like several long minutes, until you felt someone grab your wrist. "What's wrong, Caro?" you asked in an inquisitive tone. She was the one who usually grabbed your wrist to take you somewhere, or to get you out of your thoughts.

"I didn't know you and Caroline were in a relationship." As soon as you heard her voice, you froze in place.

"We're not together, but the girls love to tease us because I'm attached to Caro," you replied after a few long minutes of somewhat awkward silence.

"Well, it seems like Caro has a huge crush on you. She always seems to be glued to you. I'd also think you were girlfriends," you laughed without amusement at her words.

"I don't need someone to celebrate my friendship with Caroline. We both know what we're about, and we don't need someone else's approval of our friendship."

You looked at Ingrid, who was still standing beside you, still holding your wrist with a little more pressure.

"I'm not jealous of anyone."

"Well, it seems that way, as if you're in love with her."

In an instant, Ingrid tugged at your wrist, and you felt your back hit a wall, sandwiching the Norwegian woman's body between it and the wall. "What are you doing? Was I right about you being in love, Don Caro? Because I thought you were in a relationship." You raised your chin while raising an eyebrow, almost defiantly, thinking you'd hit the nail on the head.

"Do you really believe that? That I'm in a relationship?"

A nasal sound came from you as you looked away. "It's obvious you were, and now you ran so you could stay with Caro. Do it, I'm her friend." The taller woman pressed you further against the wall, so much so that you could already feel her erection against your thigh and hipbone.

"Do you really want me to have to shout it? You're the one I love… ever since that time I had to say goodbye to you when you left your former team… I've been wanting to kiss you." Her face leaned toward your neck, and you felt her breath hit your sensitive neck. "But it was vulgar because we were in public. Then your teammate wouldn't let me get close… I want you to be my girlfriend, to be teased with me and not Caro… I want to be the one who greets you like Alexia does, to be close to me like you are with Caro, and to be the one who helps you comb your hair before a game, not Aitana."

You were speechless when you finished listening to her. You didn't know what to say; Ingrid had practically just told you she was in love with you. You felt that knot in your stomach and your heart flutter in your chest. When you felt Ingrid lean closer, you pushed her away.

You were afraid that by telling her she would use you, you weren't good at trusting people when they told you they liked you romantically, you had been through bad experiences.

"I'm sorry…" you whispered, while looking anywhere other than Ingrid's green eyes. She looked at you confused. She knew you were a person who felt more than others, but when she experienced it herself, she felt bad. You were easily overwhelmed when it came to emotions.

She held you in her arms as soon as she saw you start to cry, giving you a tight hug, trying to help you feel less.

"I like you too, Ingrid, but I don't want to be a game. I don't want to be that again." Feeling Ingrid's scent so close made you feel calm, which was helping you a lot.

The next 10 minutes were minutes focused entirely on you, on helping you stop feeling so overwhelmed and on protecting you.

"If you want, I can drop you off home… you must be tired," she murmured against your hair, caressing your back. Your hands rested on her waist as you held tightly to her clothes.

"You're not leaving?"

"I'll stay as long as you need and want me around."

As soon as they got to their car, they both sat there. A comfortable silence spread through the car. You looked at Ingrid, who seemed to be plugging into the car horn to put on some music.

You stared at her bare arms, the veins popping out on the back of her hand, and you couldn't help but shift uncomfortably in your seat. She noticed and rested her hand on your thigh, trying to calm you down. You gave her a smile and turned your gaze back to the window.

The drive was silent until you reached the parking lot of your apartment. You both looked into each other's eyes, and almost as if they'd been held hostage, you leaped to taste each other's lips.

Ingrid's lips tasted of cherries and paradise; she was a wonderful kisser, while her hands rested on your waist, leaving small caresses. You brought your hands to her neck, then tangled one in the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging lightly. You moaned against her lips as she squeezed your waist, pulling you closer.

"Do you think you can make it to your apartment? I don't want our first time to be in a car," she said as she pulled away from your lips, one hand smoothing your hair.

"Bullshit," you pulled her hair back to kiss her, signaling her to push the seat back.

She pulled away again, but to look toward the backseat, giving you a silent invitation. She moved in first, then you, positioning yourself on her lap and beginning to rock you against her already growing erection.

You moaned against her lips as she ran her hands over your back, leaving small squeezes. She pulled away and pulled your shirt over your head, while you did the same with her shirt. You stood for a few seconds, admiring how good she looked without a shirt and bra.

Obviously, it wasn't the first time you'd seen her like this. You shared a locker room with her, and she often took off her shirt to go shower.

She pulled you in again for a kiss. As the pads of her fingers dug into the fat of your hips, knowing she would leave marks there. You were beginning to gasp against her lips, your hands resting on her chest.

You felt her hips thrust upward again, rubbing against your still-clothed center. With a bit of desperation, you began to tug at her bra, wanting to take it off. She laughed against your lips. "I have a girl who's a little desperate to feel me... I also want to feel you, love."

You smiled as you placed small, soft kisses on his cheeks, watching as he blushed more beneath you. For a moment, you stopped and simply stared at his face, a little flushed from the activity you were doing and also panting.

"I want to feel you... but I don't want you to abandon me." Ingrid looked at you, she really did, she seemed to see your soul at that precise moment. "I would never abandon you, you're my girl." She left a short kiss on your lips, before hugging you tightly.

You stayed like that for a few minutes until she started to move your hips against her erection again. Her hands rested on your waist, helping you move better. You grabbed your bra straps and pulled them down a little until she was the one who took off your bra and threw it and your shirt on the floor of the car. "You're so beautiful," she left a kiss in the middle of your breast while you threw your head back, feeling the pleasure run through your body.

You moaned as you tugged on her hair, inviting her to go lower. She pulled away and looked at you again, waiting for something. You sighed shakily as you kissed her again. Your hands moved down to her abdomen as she mimicked your movements, going a little faster. Her hands took hold of your pants button and played with it for a few minutes, trying to make you more desperate.

I sat you in the car seat, while she unbuttoned her own pants and began to pull them down her hips and thighs. When you saw her erection up close, you felt yourself getting even wetter. You brought your hands to your pants and began to pull them down. As she watched you do so, a lustful smile spread across her face. Her eyes seemed darker as her pupils became more dilated, almost erasing the green from her eyes.

She sat back down and positioned you on her lap. You could feel her erection better now, while she seemed to enjoy watching you on top of her even more. "Are you okay like this? Or would you prefer it another way?" You moaned as you adjusted yourself, then leaned closer to her, wrapping your arms around her shoulders so you could be firmer. "I really want to ride you, Ingrid."

She remained silent for a few seconds, processing what you had just said, while you began to pull down her boxers, exposing her promising cock. As she came out of her trance, she let out a moan louder than the others that had left her throat, while her fingers gripped your waist. You pushed your panties aside and aligned her against your entrance, feeling her glans push against you.

Both of you moaned at the same time, she from feeling how you were squeezing her and you from feeling how his big cock seemed to open you up for her. "God Ingrid, you feel so good... you fill me up so good," you whispered against her jaw, as you began to move slowly over her.

She didn't seem to respond. You looked at her face, her jaw clenched, as she looked anywhere but at you. "You can cum Ingrid, I know it's normal to be like this" you panted in her ear while you searched for your own orgasm "I don't care if you fill me with your cum, I really want you to do it. Fill me" you continued murmuring against her ear, feeling how she clung tighter to you.

Her hands moved to your ass, squeezing and spreading it, letting you feel more pleasure as she entered you deeper. By now, the windows were fogged up, and the car was moving with your movements on Ingrid's cock. It felt so good to ride her and watch her crumble beneath you.

"God... Kjære, you feel so good... I'm going to do it, I'm going to fill you with my cum and you're going to take it so good." You felt her teeth sink into your shoulder, as she stifled a moan that seemed to come from deep within her chest. You felt her cum shoot inside you, which made you want to reach orgasm even more.

You brought your hands to her hair, tugging at it as you used her to get your orgasm. She was more than happy to be used by you.

"Do it on my cock kjære, let me know how good my cock makes you feel" you moaned against her lips to bite them softly and pull on her lower lip, while you felt how you were getting closer and closer to achieving your long-awaited orgasm.

Ingrid moved one of her hands to where your bodies met and began to rub circles on your clit, which helped you reach your limit. That gentle, then sharp tug in your lower abdomen, followed by spasms and that heaven-sent feeling, was what indicated you'd reached orgasm on Ingrid's cock.

She help you through your orgasm, then begin to kiss you softly and tenderly caress your back. "How are you feeling? I think I have some wet cloths in the trunk to clean you up." She place a kiss on your cheek and tidy your sweaty hair, which was sticking to your forehead. "I'm fine, just... give me a few minutes to recover." You felt her laugh on your cheek followed by another kiss.

"Sorry if it wasn't what you expected."

"It was better than I expected, Ingrid... thank you." You placed a kiss on her cheek and then a softer kiss on her lips, while she admired how you looked after the orgasm.

"I don't think it's the right time, but can I be your girlfriend?" You smiled big to kiss her.

"Of course, but you still owe me a date and a proper proposal... although I do want to be your girlfriend." You smiled and placed several kisses on her face, feeling her smile widen.

At the next training session, both of you arrived together while Ingrid's hand protectively wrapped around yours and both of you were talking about where they would go to dinner that day.

They entered the dressing room and separated, each going their separate ways. You felt Alexia's arms wrap around your shoulders and you quickly took refuge in her arms like a little girl. "How have you been? I've been trying to contact you and you haven't answered, I was worried." She placed kisses on the top of your head, just like Daniëlle did to calm you down. "Sorry, I wanted to take some time for myself, Ale. I won't worry you like this again," you whispered against her chest, where you could hear her heart beating.

She pulled away and squeezed your cheeks, just like she did with her younger sister and the other girls on the team. Then she turned around and went back to her cubicle. You started changing there to begin training.

It wasn't until the end of the day that Pina screamed loud and clear when she saw Ingrid leave a small kiss on your lips before going to shower. That they had seen you kissing and unleashed a chaos of gossipmongers. But neither you nor Ingrid could be more worried. It would still be something of yours.

something that no one could take away from them.

"We have to tell Daniëlle what we saw." Caro simply winked at you before leaving the locker room. Maybe you both should prepare for the inevitable big sister call that Daniëlle would make upon hearing the news.

#woso x reader #barca femeni #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen

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differenteagletragedy · 1 month ago

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Part Nine of Simon Riley x Single Mother <3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Simon doesn't want a long engagement. He wants to be married to you immediately -- tomorrow would be good, ten years ago would be better. He's never been what anyone would describe as giddy, but thinking of the security marriage would bring ... it makes him smile.

But, as always, he follows your lead. Lets you consider what route makes the most sense for Charlie and Emma, how best to fully integrate him into their lives. It'll take some planning, but that's fine with him. He's got a mission coming up anyway, he figures you can use the time to figure out exactly how you want to play it.

He leaves, trying not to think about how it's getting harder every time to pack his things and walk away from you, from the life he's building. But when he comes back home, something's different.

It's in the way you rush outside when his heavy footsteps start up the steps on he porch, closing the door behind you and quickly pulling him in for a tight hug. There's something a little bit desperate about the way you move. A sort of anxiety he hasn't seen in you since he put that ring on your finger.

"I'm so glad you're home," you tell him, voice clipped. "You're ok?"

"Perfectly fine, sweetheart," he answers, eyes moving to the front window as if he could see through he curtains. "And you?"

Turns out, not so much.

You tell him a quick version of the story, all while your hands fidget with his collar -- your ex is in town, Charlie and Emma's father, and he's inside now with the children.

"I'm sorry," you tell him softly, wincing like you're worried he'll be upset with you. But before he can express just how ridiculous the notion is, the door swings open and out comes Charlie, howling with glee at the sight of Simon.

"There's the lad," he says, gruffly but fondly, as Charlie hugs him around his legs. "Been taking care of little sister like we talked about?"

Even as he says them, the words feel strangely domestic -- a bit of a conversation that he could never have imagined himself having just a year ago. As always, Charlie distracts him from getting into his head too much with sheer, unbridled energy.

"Come inside, Daddy," he says, pulling on his arm. "I mean, Simon."

It's the first time Charlie's ever corrected himself when he slips up and calls him that, and Simon tries to push down the strange little bit of hurt he feels when the boy opens the door and leads him inside.

The hurt is replaced by another darker feeling, some mix of anger and jealousy and fear, when he sees a man sitting on your couch, watching Emma play with blocks on the floor. When the man looks up and sees Simon, he smirks. It almost looks like a challenge.

"So, this is the guy that's been playing house with my family while I was away?" he asks you.

Simon already knew, but this is another piece of proof that you and your children have made him a better man, because the old him would have torn him apart for that remark.

You step up beside him, hands on your hips with a disapproving glare as you say, "Robert, really?"

The man, or Robert, apparently, laughs -- a grating rumble with no humor in it.

"Come on, I'm just joking. Relax."

You sigh, taking a step closer to Simon. His fingers twitch. It's not a possessive anger, not really, because he knows that at some point, you'd had feelings for this man, and it was his blood that ran through your children's veins. Not Simon's.

Still, you're upset, and he's belittling your feelings, and Simon doesn't care for it. But before he can say anything, you ask Charlie to take Emma to go play in their room.

Once the door closes behind them, there's a fire in your eyes as you turn to Robert, telling him, "You can't say that stuff in front of them, they're just little."

"Yeah? And what'd I say that was so wrong?"

"Everything!"

Simon watches the exchange with a clenched jaw. At this point, he knows all about the man on your couch -- he knows how poorly he treated you, and how you tried to give him love that he let squander. You tried to make it work with him for Charlie, so much that you carry a bit of guilt for just how long you tried to make him into someone you could depend on. And then when you found out Emma was coming, it was a wakeup call. You kicked him out, changed the locks, and learned pretty quickly that he was not interested in being a father if he couldn't take advantage of you in the process.

When Robert stands, Simon takes a step forward -- not a threat, just a warning. The man lets out that cold, annoying little laugh again and glances at him before he looks down at you.

"Got yourself a guard dog now, huh? This is the guy you've been begging me to sign adoption papers for?"

It's as if Simon can feel all the blood rushing from his face. You're shocked too, he can feel it in the way you tense beside him, but it's like your reaction is happening through the fog of the bombshell your ex just dropped.

A few things happen all at once, and he's only distantly aware of them. You step forward, saying something to Robert in a very displeased tone, and you usher him to your front door. He protests, and Simon is on alert, but you don't need him to handle this. A moment later, he's gone and it's just you and him, the children still playing down the hall in their shared bedroom.

"I didn't ..." you begin, but trail off. "It's just ..."

You stop and start a few more times, and finally he's able to pull himself out of the stupor he'd been in. He takes a breath, and puts his hands on your waist, strong and steady as always, even though he feels anything but.

"It's all right, love," he says quietly. "Don't have to explain anything to me, you know that."

"No, I do," you insist. "Because I don't want you to think the wrong thing, about all that."

"About the ..." Simon says, but it's his turn for his words to fall off -- he can't say the word "adoption," not yet. "What's the right thing?"

You gaze up at him with anxious eyes, your face lined with worry, and he can't help but lean down and press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Told you, it's all right," he says again, landing another kiss, this time on your temple. "Don't look so concerned."

"How is it all right? Now you think I've been talking to my ex about... about you adopting the kids, and that's not what it was, not really."

The way you say the word makes it clear that you're struggling with it too. Which makes sense — it’s a heavy concept, he thinks. A formal process, paperwork and he's honestly not sure what else, all so that he'd be Charlie and Emma's father, legally. It's a lot to take in, but it's certainly not an unwelcome thought. An adoption would provide more security. He could get benefits for them more easily through the job; he could —

“Simon?”

You pull him out of his thoughts, and he fixes his eyes on you.

He’s steady now.

“If I say it’s all right, sweetheart, it’s all right,” he tells you, his voice a murmur and his eyes soft. “You think I’d think you’re scheming somehow? That I haven’t considered it myself?”

He sees your smooth neck work as you swallow your nerves, and you say, “I was just asking him about it for the future … if he’d do it. I just wanted to know, that’s all.”

“And what’d he say?”

“He said no, but he’s just being difficult.” You glance down the hallway before looking back at him and lowering your voice. “He doesn’t care about them, he never has. Not really. Not like …”

He looks at you, waiting, wanting to hear you say it.

Finally, you do, your fingers toying with his collar as you say, “he doesn’t love them like you do.”

It’s not the first time Simon has felt this feeling with you: a rush of pride, a strange wonder at doing something so important, so delicate, and somehow doing it right. He’d never known he had it in him, any of this, but now it’s his favorite part of himself. He can take care of you, and he can take care of Charlie and Emma, and he can do it well. Well enough that you’ve been thinking about making it even more permanent.

He smiles, only realizing it when your lips turn up too, then he presses his forehead to yours. It’s sweet, but that’s not why he’s doing it. He’s doing it because he wants to make sure you hear him.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah?” he says, his eyes glued on yours. “If that’s what you want, if that’s what they want, then that’s what’ll happen.”

“Promise?”

He grins, and he moves a hand from his waist to find yours. He links your pinky with his, something he learned from Charlie.

“You only do this when you really, really mean something,” the boy had told him earnestly. “Because this means you can’t take it back.”

And Simon doesn’t know if he’s ever meant anything more.

“Promise.”

#simon riley #call of duty simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost #call of duty ghost #daddy simon

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theprenderelliepalace · 4 months ago

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Invisible

Harry Potter x Reader

Summary: You're somebody Harry's never noticed before, between dragons and dark magic and Quidditch, he simply hasn't had the teenage brain power. But, when you move to number 6 Privet Drive during your 6th year summer, Harry has little choice but to notice you...

Warnings: no use of y/n, gryffindoor!reader, (Harry might be a little ooc, I'll let you decide), trauma, angst, anxiety, some actual plot, fluff, hurt/comfort, slight smut if you squint, guess the timeline this is set in you're probably right... lmk if i missed anything

Words: 1.8k

^~^~^

It was an accident really. A complete mishap in the universe, a cruel joke that made you the unavoidable punchline.

Your parents had split in December, you'd spent your January in tears, and Febuary through to your final OWL in a numb sort of trance. You'd seen Harry Potter around, watched him struggle through the mockery, the disbelieving whispers that roamed the castle halls and the danger that found him at the Ministry before the end of term. But not once had he noticed you.

Why should he? You were invisible. It didn't matter that the Sorting Hat had made Gryffindoor your home five years previously or that you had a massive crush on the Chosen One since First Year, you'd never felt like you deserved to be there anyways or have his attention.

That's why you felt your stomach drop the moment your eyes met his. You couldn't explain why, but for a moment it felt like he recognized you, until you darted behind the old bridge you'd been loitering around. Your heart was in your throat as you bashed through overgrown shrubbery. Twigs smacked against your skin, stinging your cheeks and snagging your hair. You panted against the cool evening air, trying to draw breath that wouldn't come.

You came back up the street, your house almost in view, the shining silver 6 looming over Privet Drive as you raced towards it. You were almost up the hill, hand practically reaching out for your front door, when your felt your door snag against a loose piece of gravel. Your heart lurched as you flew forwards, landing against the tarmac with a hideous, scraping thud.

You groaned as you rolled over, the cloudless sky blinking at you brightly, laughing at you. Your forearms seared with stinging pain. "Woah, wait!" A voice called from over the hill.

You blinked, "Uh, Hey?" You coughed out. Your vision was suddenly clouded with a figure. A halo of messy hair blotting out the nearby streetlight.

"Are you okay?" The voice asked.

You could look at him now, those silly round glasses falling charmingly down his nose, his mop of black hair tumbling into his eyes, those brilliant emeralds gleaming down at you with such fierce concern. Your stomach coiled for a very different reason as your eyes met again. You blushed as he offered you his hand, scolding yourself as you got shakily to your feet.

"That was a pretty epic knockout." Harry Potter teased, genuine concern bubbling behind his glasses.

"Yeah." You grumbled, finding your shoes suddenly very interesting.

"Uh, I hate to ask, but, you didn't run because of me I hope."

"What?" Your head snapped up to meet his startled gaze. "No! I-"

He laughed, the obvious tension in his shoulders falling away. "Are you sure? You kind of spooked the second you saw me-"

"Well yeah! But it's not what you think..." You said, your face flushing so bright you thought it might surpass the streetlight.

"What do I think?" He asked, a brow raising into his hairline. You noticed the subtle quirk to his lips and the glint in his eye and suddenly you were laughing.

"Sorry, that was pretty stupid, huh?" You chuckled.

"The falling and hurting yourself part maybe, the running away, surprisingly, I get." He chuckled with you.

"No! I recognized you, and obviously you're, well you, and you go to Hogwarts and I was spooked when I thought you'd recognized me! I just, I dunno, I ran." You mumbled into the pavement beneath you. Tugging at your shredded sleeves.

"I noticed." He smiled warmly at you. Suddenly he frowned. "Listen, let me help you get that cleaned up." Harry said, glancing at your arms. "I'd feel worse if you said no." He smiled again, hopeful.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, urging you to run the last few steps up your porch and into the safety of your unfurnished home. Then you looked into his puppy dog eyes and you cracked. "I have some muggle first aid in my kitchen. Mum's at the old house packing up." You looked at him through your eyelashes, a bashful suggestion you hoped didn't sound too forward. And then you realized. "No! I didn't mean like that, Merlin, I'm so sorry."

He laughed, a youthful, boyish laugh that left you feeling weak in the knees. "I know, I know. C'mon, let's get you patched up."

The two of you walked up the steps to your new house, it was cold and vacent in the entrance hall, a narrow, bleak, little space that made you feel like you were walking into a dungeon. "Sorry, jus' moved in. Nothing special about it yet." You said humbly. You turned down the corridor into the little kitchenette. "Not sure where I put the first aid kit, uh-" you spun in a small circle, starting to panic as you realized you weren't sure where anything was really. It was all so sudden, so new, it was alarmingingly overwhelming and then...

"Here. This it?" Harry asked, a comforting air to him.

You sighed in relief. "That's the one." You leant against the counter, the lamplight casting weary shadows over your face. Harry unzipped the small case, deftly choosing the wound cleaning solution and the right amount of gauze. "You do this often?" You ask, curious, but also slightly alarmed at his confidence.

"Hah, well, often enough to let you know you're in good hands. Not that I mean, you know." He quickly corrected.

"No." You giggled. "I've got my own hands to worry about I guess." He came over to you, pouring the rubbing alcohol against the gauze.

"Sorry. Might sting a bit." He gently turned your forearm over in his hand. It was so much larger than your scraped up little palms, the thought made you scold yourself again. This was the Harry Potter, in your kitchen, cleaning your stupid wounds because of your stupid deer-in-headlights freakout. Then again, things had been worse.

"It's okay." You gave him a small smile of reassurance. He touched the alcohol to your torn skin as gingerly as he could, you noticed his eyes flickering up to your face every now and then to catch any sign of serious pain. You hissed as he reached one of the deeper cuts.

"S'rry." He grumbled, focused on the pressure he put onto the cut. With your free hand, you allowed your fingers to gently grip his wrist, he stopped, his gaze finding yours.

"It's okay." You breathed, in awe of the boy in front of you. You knew he was handsome but, Merlin. You gulped, your tongue suddenly feeling too big for your mouth.

He was staring at you, something clouded behind his eyes, like he was searching for all these words he wanted to say, instead he said, "Why'd you run, really?" He chastised, knowing you hadn't been totally honest before.

"You looked at me like you're looking at me now and it made me wonder..." He was so close to your lips, your breaths mingled in the cool summer night.

"Wonder?" He urged you to go on.

"Well, it's not possible right? I mean, Harry Potter has better things to do than know I exist." You poked fun at yourself, you didn't know why but he made you feel like you could joke about those kind of things. It felt so refreshing.

"You'd be surprised at what I know and don't know." His eyes never moved from your lips. It felt so easy.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. "I ran because you make me nervous." So sensational.

"Why?"

"You know why." You felt so alive.

Just then his lips touched yours, uncertain at first, searching, questioning and then your hands found their way into his mussed up hair and he was yours. His body lit up like a Christmas tree at your touch, his lips on yours, electric. Harry let his hands wrap around your waist, the first aid lost to the depths of the kitchen floor. He pulled you into him, his touch so tender yet so passionate.

This was not a boy that didn't know you existed, this was a boy that imagined this moment a thousand times more than you had and he was alarmingly good at showing you as much. His eyelashes fluttered against your cheek as he deepend your kiss, his hands running up your side sending shivers across your body.

"Harry-" You whispered between breaths.

"You've no idea how long I've thought..." He smiled at you, composing himself. "How's that for knowing I exist?" You laughed.

"Wait you? But you've never even said one word to me!" You gafawed.

"Couldn't if I tried. You're always running away. Thought you hated me."

"I was terrified I'd make a fool of myself trying to put two sentences together!" You were back to laughing.

He smirked at you, that glint you couldn't explain in his eye again. "You did pretty well just now. No sentences required."

You scoffed, "Yeah, well you taught me a valuable lesson Harry Potter." You pulled him close to you again, your smiles twice as wide as each others.

"What's that? Don't run in the dark?" You shook your head at him.

"No. That I wasn't quite as invisible as I thought. And I'm glad, or tonight never would've happened."

Harry chuckled, leaning down to kiss you slowly, ages of pent up passion pooling into one lonely little kitchenette.

You realized, suddenly, even though your family was in pieces, a piece of yourself had been unearthed again today. The emotions you had burried for someone you never thought would see you were soaring to the surface. But the funny thing was, he had always seen you, even when you hadn't seen yourself.

You weren't in number 6 Privet Drive kissing Harry Potter because the universe hated you, you were finding the pieces of yourself you'd lost to your own doubt.

Suddenly there was a commotion so loud it startled you out of your makeout reverie. "HARRY POTTER!" Came the rumbling holler from down the street.

"Oh Godric, who on earth-" You didn't even have time to finish your question before Harry was racing to the front door looking white as a sheet.

"Uncle.Curfew.Sorry.Uh," He paused rushing back to you, he gripped your cheeks in both his palms, pressing his lips to yours in a somewhat humerous goodbye.

"What was that for?" You asked, laughing as he dashed to the door again, you close at his heels.

"Uh, just being neighborly." He grinned.

"Oh, well in that case, don't be a stranger." You took a moment to take him in, his boyish grin, his whole being brimming with the energy of trouble. He was perfect.

"You had me at 'Hey'." He winked. Probably to embarrass you, at which he was succeeding. "I'm not going anywhere for long." With that, he was gone. You watched his retreating figure down the street and into that house of horrors they called number 4.

You closed the door, leaning your weight against it. "What an idiot." You grinned.

^~^~^

Let's pretend Sirius is alive and well. It is my most sacred wish.

Also, should this have been smut? I dunno. I'm a fluffy kind 'o gal, but I guess let me know?

Masterlist

#writing #blogger #writers on tumblr #fanfic #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #tim bradford #harry james potter #harry potter imagine #hjp #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry potter fluff #angst with a happy ending #harry potter and the half blood prince #writers

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writing-mlm · 5 months ago

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The boy next door

Summary: Simon and his neighbor throughout the years Pairing: Simon Riley x Male!reader Wc: 3.6k tags/warnings: mentions of military things, talks about Simon’s prior team, Mr. Riley trauma, military slander, jokes about sex, Pre-141 a/n: let me know if i forgot any tags :3

He had been your boy next door, the mysterious Simon Riley who lived in the brick house across the street. The house that always had its curtains closed, the ones who bricked garden never had anything but weeds and whatever passerby tossed inside.

Despite the discouraging outside, you had always been drawn to the place. But the only downside was that it was the house of Mr. Riley, the same Mr. Riley that had stolen your pet snake, the same Mr. Riley who would leave dead animals in your bricked garden or waste bin. The same Mr. Riley that laughed when your older sister died at a Bone Lickers concert.

Simon attended the funeral, though. Mrs. Riley hadn’t been too far behind but she didn’t join the service. Your brother commented it was probably so she’d get away from Mr. Riley. You didn’t argue, neither did Simon. He just apologized and kept his distance until it was time to leave.

When everyone was piling into their cars, he had gone inside for just a second and ran over to you just as you had placed a special flower on your sister's casket. There was a box in his hands, a small box poorly wrapped in newspapers and held together with a shoelace. There was a card in between the two, as well. It had almost fallen into the grave but you caught it before it did.

Simon handed you the box before he left again, this time he slid into the car and kept his head down as it pulled out of the graveyard.

You didn’t see him the next day at school, then the weekend passed and his curtain remained closed. Sometimes, when you caught yourself waiting for it to open, it smashed against the window for only a second. A part of you wanted to go over, maybe invite Simon over but you worried, imagining Mr. Riley opened the door. Maybe a dead animal would be in his hand, maybe he’d have that same stupid look on his face that made you stop looking up, or worst of all, maybe he’d invite you in.

So, instead, that following Monday, you saw Simon in the hallways. He was a year older, or just a grade above. Either way, the two of you didn’t share any classes; you’d only see him in the hallways and coming from school. Going, he left earlier than he truly needed to. You would, too, if you were Simon Riley.

He had almost slipped past you, pushing past the younger years and keeping his head low. But you noticed him just before he went away. So, you stopped him and handed him a note before heading outside for lunch.

It took him all of four hours to respond, since, for the first time, he walked back with you home. He didn’t cross the street at any point, but he did stop at the bricks separating your house from the pavement and started into his house. Maybe five seconds passed before he followed you into the house.

From there, he spent almost every day at the house. Whenever he could slip away from his, he was at your house. Your folks didn’t mind, they didn’t like Mr. Riley either.

Sooner than you liked, Simon had graduated. He became a butcher for some time, he often gave you free or extra pieces and often got in trouble but never fired. His boss said he was too good with a knife and he wasn’t giving away too much.

He must’ve gotten tired of it, since by the time you had graduated, he told you and only you that he was leaving. Joining the Air Force! The military was something he had only mentioned in passing, you weren’t too fond of the idea of it, but Simon was dead set on it.

Something about September 11th had him thinking. He never told you what, but you didn’t care to pry.

“Okay,” You sat up from his bed, the bed he had in the middle of his small apartment far away from the Riley house he had grown up in. “I’ll apply too!” He looked over, his eyebrow cocked up and a glint in his eyes.

“You can’t deal with looking down from the second floor, you think you’d handle over a thousand meters in the air?” He sat up, the two of you face to face in his bed.

“I do,” Simon watched as your eyes went from his left eye, to the right, then down to his lips, and back again. He counted it five times before he shook his head and looked away.

“Do it,” He shrugged. “Maybe we’ll be in the same unit.” Then, he turned to look at you again, a smile on his lips. “But if not—“

It happened so fast, his hands gripped your face as he pulled you into a kiss. You let it happen, holding onto his shoulder for support as the two of you fell back into the bed. One of his hands— you think his left— went from your face to your side, rolling you closer to him as you gripped his hips.

The kiss lasted longer than either of you had expected. Just until the both of you had gone too long without breathing, your lungs screaming at you to keep it in your pants.

“Shit,” You laughed, looking at Simon. “Damn— that was good! You been practicing?” He rolled his eyes and then pushed you away from him. “What? Or are you a naturally good shagger?”

“We didn’t shag,” He got up from the bed and went over to the water bottle you had left there. “It was a kiss,” The water bottle opened up and you noticed he was drinking from your ice ice-cold water you spent two nights making.

“Aye! You know how many times I had to refreeze that water? Don’t drink it all!” Getting up, you took the bottle back from him and saw he had drunk all of the thawed-out ice. “Rude! What am I gonna drink now?”

Almost as if a lightbulb had appeared above his head, Simon grinned and gripped the back of your head. Once he felt he had a nice grip, he pushed your head towards his and kissed you. Then it happened.

He was shotgunning you with your own water!

“I need to reevaluate,” You gulped down the water. “God! You’re definitely experienced! Or have you been reading those old woman novels?” The red on his face let you know all you needed to know before you burst into laughter. “It’s okay, Si. I won’t tell anyone you read raunchy old women romance novels,”

“I want the water back,” He joked, setting the bottle back down on the dresser. “C’mon, spit it up,” With his hand held out as if you were going to spit the water out and ‘give it back’ you started to walk away.

“You can drink my piss, if you’d like,” You teased, opening the bedroom door. “But I’m going to Wimpy, I heard they just opened one across the street from that pub you like.”

“Bring me back a Wimpy Wednesday,”

—

Nothing further came between the two of you after the kiss. Things had returned to normal, save for the occasional make-out sessions over some takeout or a crappy movie. But no labels or discussions came about. No one tried to push it further, and you guessed because you were going to the British Army and he was going to the Air Force it was better-remaining friends— best friends. Best friends with kissing benefits.

Whatever it was, was remaining.

Simon had written that he was in SAS. Special Air Services. It was some big league unit for the skydivers of the military and you were happy for him. Of course. It just sucked not being able to sit down and watch movies with him anymore. But you found yourself busy with The British Army.

It wasn’t too bad. Could’ve been worse. At least you didn’t die, or get blown up and live to tell the tale. You didn’t think you could deal with everyone asking how you got hurt and having to explain that you had been blown up.

Highly invasive.

And the logo for TBA sucked.

The British Army didn’t suck, though. You had people you enjoyed around you, no enemies on your time— they weren’t friends either, though. You kept to yourself mostly, so no one really knew you all that well.

But you did create a reputation for yourself.

You had been dubbed Reaper, your official name on the field. Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick had come up with it after he was placed with you on a mission. He said he couldn’t find you, he just heard the bodies drop and the occasional gunfire when you didn’t use your knives.

It was corny, and probably cliche but damn did it feel good to answer to Reaper on the field.

It also made you feel mysterious.

Time had come and passed and you were given a temporary leave at the same time Simon had. The two of you had met at the airport and took a taxi to his old home since he had given up on his apartment; not wanting to pay rent for a place he wasn’t staying at or using.

You went home while he visited his folks, at his request. He wanted some alone time with them. Probably wanting to see if they had changed in the span of his moving out until then.

Later that night, when the two of you went to the pub to catch up, he told you what had happened. He said he’d be staying until things got better and you told him you couldn’t stay home, but would if he needed you to.

“I’d stop carrying the world if you asked me to,” You admitted after two or three drinks. Simon remained sober, instead, he nursed an apple juice. “Fuck, Si, I think I’m in love with you,” But it wasn’t the right time. He had his issues he needed to deal with, so he didn’t respond.

Instead, he offered to get Wimpy Wednesday and you happily agreed, spending the rest of the night at a park bench, sobering up before the two of you returned home.

He and your folks saw you off, he had promised to continue to write and you did the same.

After a bit, around three months, his notes got shorter. They felt cut off like someone had interrupted him and he needed to send the letter anyway. You never commented on it.

Your next leave had been asked by Simon. He had wanted you to come to his brother's wedding; he’d be the best man and he would ‘look like a loser’ if he didn’t bring anyone. You asked your captain, Price, if you could and he agreed. With nothing to do, he figured why not and you left for Manchester.

Keeping it a secret, you had your dad pick you up from the airport and had him sneak you into the house through the yard. He took you suit shopping and you almost bumped into Simon doing the same. He looked so lost, it was almost funny.

But still, you hid you were home until the day of the wedding, as Simon was getting ready to leave.

Not that Tommy didn’t know, you had written to him beforehand, asking to join and he agreed. He’s the one who suggested you keep it a secret for so long. It was just too funny to pass up.

“Is that my date?” You called from the side of Simon's car as he locked the door behind him.

“I thought you weren’t coming!” He smiled as he made his way over to you.

“Me?” You gasped, a hand in your chest. “I’d never turn down an invitation from The Simon Riley of the Special Air Service. Tell me, is this like one of your novels?” Wiggling your eyebrows, Simon blinked before shaking his head. He muttered something about being annoying before he looked back at you.

“You’re annoying,” He pointed at you then smiled and shook his head. “Get in the car, jackass,” It beeped as he unlocked it and you hopped inside.

“Nice car,” Clicking the seatbelt into place, Simon hummed. “Oh, c’mon Simon! I can’t really joke about the car— wait. Sex jokes or are you still a virgin?”

“As much as you are,” He side-eyed you and you laughed, watching through the passenger window as he pulled away from the parking spot.

“Maybe we could be each other's firsts again,” It was less of an actual suggestion and more of a what-if scenario. You honestly didn’t expect him to react or give you a reply.

“We should,”

“God, maybe shotgun some alcohol into me first. I need a confidence boost to into bed with my wet dream,”

“That can be arranged,”

—

Okay, maybe you hadn’t ‘shagged’ Simon that night, since after the wedding the two of you stayed in the car as he cried on your shoulder. And then spend the night in your bed, talking about the past two years. But you didn’t care. You had gone several years without having sex, you could go plenty more if it meant tender moments with him.

“You know…” He trailed off on your last day at home before you had to return. “When we went to the pub in 2003, do you remember— did you mean what you said?” Laying on his back, Simon wrenched his eyes shut as you turned on your side and moved your hair from your eyes.

“What did I say? Y'know, I’m a bloody lightweight,” He took a deep breath and held his stomach.

“That you were in love with me,” Sighing, you sat up, pressing your back to the wall your bed was pushed against while Simon watched you.

“I was— I am.” You admitted. Biting down on your lip, you looked up at your ceiling and laughed. “I had a crush on you growing up, then we met at the funeral and we started talking. I started to genuinely like you. I think I first really noticed it at the grocery store. One day I went in and you already had my order for me, but you still made me wait so we could talk for a bit. You looked so happy cutting meat and shit. It was goofy and I was so bloody smitten,”

“It was when I was in my room, wishing you were there. Sometimes I'd turn and expect to see you there, but you aren’t.” He almost whispers his confession.

“Can I admit something?” You whispered, holding onto his hand, watching as he nodded. “Sometimes, on the field, I picture you having my back and we’re doing it together. It sounds so goofy but it helps,”

“It does,” He nodded. “I do the same,” There was this warm feeling in your stomach that made you feel all giddy and stupid and you didn’t want it to end anytime soon.

“That’s so gay,” You laughed and he rolled his eyes, pulling you down onto him.

“You talked about me shotgunning you alcohol so we could shag, since I am apparently your wet dream,” Not really listening as he talked since his hands were running up and down your body, you blinked, staring directly at his lips.

“You are,” You mumbled against his lips. “I was gonna make an ocean joke, but I doubt it would make a big splash,”

“That was horrible,” He cackled, throwing his head back to the pillow. “Please, work on your jokes,” Groaning, you rolled off of him and turned your back.

“I take back everything, we are now enemies.”

“Mhmm, come and kiss me, I know you want to,”

—

Two days after that, Simon had gotten word he was being sent out to Iran. He had written about it briefly, mulling over it as if he wasn’t going back and leaving home again. But he seemed fine with it, so you didn’t push the topic and understood that it meant you probably wouldn’t get any letters from him for a little bit.

That little bit had stretched for a while, you had gotten more than worried about where Simon had gone that you almost quit. You were ready to go home and find out what had happened when a letter arrived for you.

It was a letter from Tommy, he said he was being stalked and he was fearing for himself, his wife and his son's life. After explaining to a person higher up in your chain of command, they agreed to put the three of them into protective custody. The only communication you had with them was via their guard through heavily coded letters detailing what was happening.

After they had seen the stalker, a former SAS agent named Marcus Washington, checking the place out for the third time that day, they agreed to move the three of them and Mrs. Riley to a safe house.

“Reaper!” Gaz has called out from the booth he was at. “Someone’s on the line for you, a uh—“ He waited on the phone for a moment. “S. R. says he’s from the SAS,” Dropping your gun, you went over to Gaz and took the phone from him.

“Si?” You asked once the phone hit your ear. Gaz had walked away, shutting the door on his way out.

“(Y/n),” Simon whispered, his voice wavering. “They’re gone! The house is a mess, (Y/n). Tommy— Joseph—“ He was about to start full-on sobbing.

“Darling, no. No, Tommy sent me a letter around a month ago. Marcus Washington was stalking them so I asked around and they’re in protective custody. They’re in a safe house, I spoke to them last night, I promise they’re safe.”

“Are you sure?” He sniffed. “Please, I’ve had the worst last eight months, I can’t take anymore,”

“I promise, Simon. They’re safe, I’ll give them your information once we hang up. Okay?”

“Okay. Okay,” He sighed. “Can you do that now, I just need to hear them,”

“Okay, my love. What number should I give them?” With the number jotted down on a random paper, you hung up and called the guard, giving her the number Simon had given you and explaining who it was and why he was allowed to have contact. It took some back and forth but eventually, she agreed and gave Tommy the number.

Throughout the week you got updates from Tommy and Simon but Simon had explained he was going to drop off again and he was going to explain everything once he came back.

He kept that promise, of course. It was a very lengthy letter that took you a good part of your breakfast to read. His team leader had betrayed him, he was almost brainwashed and his brainwashed teammate tried to kill Tommy. He was buried alive, only getting out using a guy's jaw to dig his way out of the dirt. And then he killed the people responsible.

Hopefully, he’d be getting therapy before going back, but the Military definitely wouldn’t pay for it.

—

The next time you saw him in person was two months after that letter. He’d picked you up from the airport, waiting patiently at your gate with his service dog, Riley. He’s amazing at picking names, you know.

“Si,” You breathed as you crashed into him. People around you gave small claps at the sight of someone in their military uniform coming home and you felt embarrassed. You wanted to take it off, to not draw attention to yourself but you’d been so damn nervous you’d forgotten to.

Simon, rather than letting you go after you pull back, loops his arms around your waist and buries his head into the crook of your neck. He thanks you a million times, sniffling ever so quietly while he tries to hold you tighter. He’s thanking you for a million different reasons, each one spilling from his lips faster than you can process.

He leans back and looks between your eyes, it’s been years since he’s seen them. Months since he used them to crawl from his grave. He smiles, his new lip scar flexing as he does before he kisses you. It’s firm, it’s warm and you find yourself chasing his lips even though he’s not pulling away anytime soon.

“Aye, mate, come on!” Tommy shouts from further down the gate. Simon only sucks his teeth and pulls away, his hands traveling to hold your hand. He slips your bags from you, shifting them to one hand before holding yours.

When you meet with Tommy, he grins and slaps your shoulder before holding something out for you.

“Heard you might be needing this,” He opens his hand and you see a whiskey shooter. It doesn’t take long before you get the joke he’s making and you gape at your boyfriend who’s simply cheesing.

“Si, you told Tommy about that? You arse!” You laugh, shoving his shoulder as the two brothers begin to laugh too. Tommy gives you a small hug once they calm down and you set out to the car.

“Did you get the letter from Captain Price?” Simon quietly asks as he sends Riley into the car and tosses your bags into the trunk.

“Task Force 141?” He nods and you nod back. “Heard it’s a secret op, not a lot of people were asked to join. I dunno if I’ll accept, though.” The trunk slams closed and you look over at him.

“I’m going.” Sighing, you check the time.

“Guess I’ll write him back when we go, 'cause you’re not going alone.”

#x male reader #x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #ghost x you #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader

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writtenapoiogy · 7 months ago

Text

the party & the after party; satoru gojo

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: You don’t know how you ended up in this predicament exactly. At one moment you were at a party looking for your roommate then you were bumping into star basketball player, Satoru Gojo. And then you were in his car heading to a basketball court to learn a lesson or two about the sport. One thing led to another and you ended up at his apartment.

word count: 5k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, protected/unprotected sex (you'll see what i mean), penetrative sex, choking, you match his freak and he can't get enough of you, use of pet names: baby, pretty, and pretty girl, and probably some more i forgor

a/n: i definitely promised to have this posted DAYS AGO sorrryyy life was doing its thing but i had a lot of fun writing this and writing for satoru so definitely be expecting more from me. this is also the most i've ever written for a oneshot so enjoy HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY SATORUUU (ill edit this lattteerrrr)

It had been officially forty five minutes since your friend ran off and disappeared. You didn’t know what she was up to. But you were going to go home feigning tiredness.

You went up stairs and checked every unlocked door, which were few. You tried the last door at the end of the hall and, “OH MY GOD! I’m sorry, fuck, sorry.” Your hand flung to your face, covering your eyes. You were not expecting to see Suguru Geto balls deep in your best friend on top of the bathroom sink.

You slammed the door shut and began to head towards the front door. When you turned the corner to go down the stairs, you came face to face with a mans strong chest. Your hand that was still covering your eyes, for god knows why, flew out to grab onto something so you didn’t fly completely back and hurt yourself. Long calloused fingers wrapped around yours arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

When you finally gathered yourself and look at who was in front of you, you were met with striking blue eyes and stark white hair. Satoru Gojo, star basketball player. “Shit, I’m sorry.” You uttered.

He beamed a smile at you. “It’s okay. Glad I was here to catch you. You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Have you seen, Suguru?” Satoru peeked his head down the corridor, “haven’t seen him in almost an hour.”

“Don’t open the last door at the end of the hall, unless you wanna get flashed by your best friend.” A shiver runs through your body at the memory of your friend digging her fingertips into Suguru’s buttocks.

Satoru scrunched up his face at the image. “Wait, where are you going. It’s only eleven. The night just started.” He reached for your arm as you began to head down the stairs.

“Uh, parties really aren’t my thing.”

“You run the basketball webpage right?” He was quick to change the subject in a sad attempt at keeping you here a little longer.

You felt your face heat up and your eyes went wide. That’s an anonymous site. And also not your proudest work.

“Based on your reaction, I’m going to assume I’m right.”

“How’d you know..”

“I always see you courtside with a notebook. Didn’t take long for me to put two and two together.” Satoru was very observant and had had his eyes on you since the start of the season. During your freshman year, a senior was running the webpage and after they graduated it was passed on to you. He took notice to the badge you wore during games that stated ‘special media’.

You continue to walk away from him, completely embarrassed. You knew your reports on the games weren’t the best but you didn’t care because it was anonymous. Now the star player was standing in front of you basically saying he has known this whole time.

You ran your hands down your face. “I know, I know. Not the best sports reporter. But to be fair, I’m a creative writing major. I just took this on for the extra credit.”

“It’s not that bad…”

“But still bad. Oh my god. This is so embarrassing.”

“No really you just need like a tiny basketball lesson so your reports are more engaging.” He offered.

“Yeah. I’ve been to every game this season and it still makes no sense to me.” Maybe because you were a little too focused on the star player and not enough on the game itself.

“Then you’re just in luck because I was just about to head to the court play some ball.. You’re free to join me.” He most definitely was not about to leave. He was actually looking for Suguru to play beer pong but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hang out with just you.

“I should probably wait for my friend so she’s not worried.” Your friend and Suguru had been messing around for sometime now so you knew she was fine and you also knew that she didn’t care if you just disappeared from the party, she’d find you back home anyway.

“They probably aren’t coming out anytime soon. Just send her text. C’mon, at least I’m not forcing you to stay at this party.”

He had a good point. You would rather be anywhere else than this dumb party. Your friend told you it was sort of a birthday party— this was not what you were expecting. You would also be a fool not to agree to spend some time with Satoru. “Okay, why not.”

There was a silence in the car— not an uncomfortable silence, but still a silence non the less.

“So a creative writing major, huh?” He broke the silence.

“Yeah, I know, not the kind of major that pays the bills but I love it.”

He smiled over at you and your heart flipped as it attempted to break free from your chest.

New topics began to flow between the two of you. You learned new things about him and he learned some about you too. You learned that he didn’t mind the attention from basketball but it was also slightly the reason he doesn’t want to go further with it. He was a business major.

You pulled up to an outdoor basketball court. And that is when you realized you had left your coat. You had worn a tracksuit to the party— your coat being the only thing that really kept you warm.

“Oh fuck, I forgot my coat.” You recalled walking past the closet which held your coat hostage currently.

“It’s okay you can wear my hoodie.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I don’t want you getting cold for my sake.”

His long fingers dipped underneath the neckline and he pulled it off, swiftly. “I insist.”

You took the fabric from his hands and you were immediately engulfed with his heavenly scent. So warm and inviting. You pulled it over your head in the small space of his car, obscuring your vision— you missed the way his stare lingered on the exposed skin of your abdomen.

“Alright hotshot show me what you got.”

He smiled at you and then the two of you got out of the car. God you couldn’t get enough of his smile.

Satoru was a bit of a show off on the court, always. But especially right now with just you in attendance. He was swift and quick on his feet. Every time he made a basket he shot you a dazzling smile. “Your turn my lovely poet.” Satoru tossed the ball to you lightly.

You caught the ball. “I’m not a poet and I can’t play basketball.” You stood and met him in the middle of the court. You were never really good at sports so you stuck to your books— that’s what got you your scholarships.

“And I’m a good teacher. I do coach a youth basketball team when I’m free.”

You sigh, “What’s in it for me? I thought I was just here to observe so I could write better.”

“Well that and to get you moving around so you can warm up. You’ve gotta be freezing over there.” He pleaded with you, “Please it’ll be fun.”

His words made you realize just how cold you actually were. You reluctantly agreed to let him teach you some things. For the sake of being warm and not to get closer to the tall man standing in front of you. Right?

He first showed you how to dribble the ball and then went on to show you how to shoot. Your first attempt, the ball flew over the backboard. Your second, the ball hit the bottom part of the net— nowhere close to the rim. An third attempt, the ball flew towards the hoop with promise before it hit the edge of the rim and bounced back to the two of you.

Satoru threw his hand out and caught the ball before it could hit you. “Okaayy, lets work on your stance a little. Yeah?” He placed the ball back in your hands before he walked behind you and hovered his hands over your hips, “May I?”

You turned your head towards him when you heard the closeness of his voice. Satoru was extremely close to you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have a little crush on him. You just didn’t want to admit cause who didn’t have a crush on Satoru Gojo.

He was attractive, obviously. You weren’t blind— you just hadn’t seen him up close and personal. He was absolutely the most handsome person you had ever laid your eyes on. He could have anyone he wanted. There was no way he’d pick you.

His bright blue eyes had a sparkle to them. You felt yourself getting lost in them before your eyes trailed down to his lips. His soft pink lips. Oh, how you would love to feel them against your own.

As he said your name he couldn’t help but smile when he saw where your eyes had lingered to. He wanted to lean in. He wanted to close that gap between the two of you.

“Um, yeah. Yeah that’s fine.”

He placed his hands on your hips and your mind went completely blank. It’s as if his fingers were ablaze and you could feel the burn through the clothes against your skin.

After he helped you fix your stance he explained to you how simple it would be from there. His hands went from your hips up to your arms and you had to take a deep breath to center yourself. “Alright now just toss it.” His lips were right next to your ear. “C’mon you got this.”

You almost melted right then and there. However, you still stood strong and you threw the ball and to your surprise it actually went in.

You hollered and hopped a couple of times before turning around and wrapping your arms around Satoru. He was so warm and he smelled so good. You could really get lost in his arms. You two stood like that for a few minutes before your brain came back to you and you pulled away, clearing your throat.

He smiled down at you, “I told you you could do it.”

After he retrieved the ball he went in for a dunk and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail down to his exposed lower stomach. Your eyes caught white hair that trailed down into his sweats.

You scoff, “Show off.”

“What you wanna try to dunk? I can go get you a step stool if you want.”

Oh he thought he was so funny. “Jackass.”

He let out a boisterous laugh. “Hey, c’mon, I was just messing around. Why don’t you try to take the ball from me. I’ll go easy on you.”

He explained to you that this was to make sure that the person you’re guarding cannot pass the ball to their teammate or shoot the ball and score a point.

Every time your hand got close to the ball it was immediately out of your reach yet again. “Satoru, you said you’d go easy on me.” You frowned.

“This is me going easy.”

Oh.

You continue to try and take the ball from him this time he goes for a score and shoots the ball, causing you to trip on your feet and ram face first into his chest. You both come crashing down to the ground. Just before crushing you underneath him, he caught himself with one of his forearms on the ground and his other hand right next to your head— caging you beneath him.

His breath was hitting your face and you could smell the faint sent of alcohol. “Did you drink tonight? C-cause you drove.”

“I just had one beer. And you got here safe didn’t you?”

“Yeah…” You let out a barely there whisper. You took in all of his features. His fluffy eyelashes. You fingers twitched to touch his cheek.

You hadn’t realized how deeply you were staring at his lips till your eyes moved to meet his and he was unashamedly staring at your slightly agape mouth.

Then in the distance a car alarm went off and the two of you scrambled away from each other. Breaking the tension in the air.

Satoru quicky busied himself with the basketball and began moving around the court again. Your eyes were glued to him, much like when you attended one of his games. There were just a few things you were noticing. Things you tried so hard to ignore before.

You noticed how his hand easily gripped the ball. His hands were large. And then when he spun the ball on his finger you thought you were done for. Your mind having inappropriate thoughts about the white haired man in front of you.

What his long fingers would feel like wrapped around your neck…. Or how they would feel inside of you..

“Hellloo? Earth to Y/N.” Satoru was now standing directly in front of you. He laughed at the shock on your face. “I thought I lost you for a second there.”

“Sorry. Uh, what time is it. It feels like its getting late.”

He looked down at his arm to check the time on his watch. “It’s just a little past midnight.”

“I should probably go home.”

“Why?”

“I-,” You started.

“Cause it’s Saturday night so I know you don’t have class.” Satoru really didn’t want you to leave. He was enjoying being around you and he didn’t want the night to end. “Please. Stay. Have some fun with me.”

You laugh. “It’s freezing.”

“I didn’t say we had to stay at the court.” Fuck it. He was gonna figure out how to spend the rest of the night with you. “Would you wanna go back to my place?”

“And do what?” Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of being alone with him at his apartment.

“Whatever you want.” And he did truly mean whatever you wanted. Because he wanted you and he would be through the roof if you wanted him too.

He had this look in his eye and how could you refuse him. “Okay.”

You made your way back to Satoru’s car and you felt his hand cover yours on the door handle, “Let me.”

You turned to look at him and yet again he was extremely close to you. You were starting to think this man didn’t understand the definition of personal space but you didn’t mind it. Not when it was him.

But now you thought of this closeness as dangerous. You had been stopping yourself from kissing his soft and tempting lips all night. You knew if he got close to you again you wouldn’t be able to hold back.

You took in your surroundings and he had you caged in against his car. “Satoru?”

“Yea..”

Fuck it.

You brought your hands up to his head and tangled your fingers in his pillow soft hair and brought him down to close the gap between you two. You moaned against his lips and felt your body mold against his. He tasted so sweet and all you wanted to do was indulge in him.

Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you completely against him. All he could think was yes yes yeswhen you kissed him. He parted his lips and nipped at your bottom lip.

Your fingers tugged his locks when you felt his teeth against your lip. He moaned into your mouth and your brain turned to mush. You felt a familiar knot begin to form in your gut.

His hands that were wrapped around you went down to your ass and he ground you against his hips— making you feel how hard he was.

Satoru reluctantly pulled away from you because he knew that if the two of you stayed where you were he might’ve taken you right there against his car.

“Fuck, get in. Now. Please.” He said, desperately.

You placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth and nodded as you got in the car when he opened the door.

When he got in the car he immediately pulled out his cell and sent a text to Suguru telling him not to come back to the apartment tonight because he had company.

On the short drive to his place his hand stayed on your upper thigh. He drew enticing circles along your inner thigh which had you spreading your legs for him. You wished you had opted for a skirt tonight and not a sweatsuit.

He was on you as soon as you guys walked in. He was standing behind you with his arms running up your abdomen underneath your layers of clothing. He walked you towards his bedroom with his mouth attached to your neck.

“Satoru..” You whined at the sensation of his touch. He was driving you insane in the best way possible.

Satoru hummed, “I love the way you say my name.” He stripped you of his hoodie that you still had on. He started to undress you slowly. When he pushed your pants down, he made sure to kiss your legs all the way down till the fabric pooled at your feet. Soon you were standing in nothing but your matching lace set. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You felt yourself getting shy underneath his gaze. You needed to level the playing field. You balled your hand in his shirt and pulled him closer to you. You turned the two of you so that his back was to the bed.

You started to push his shirt up his chest and he made quick work of removing the item of clothing. You let yourself take in his sculptured body. He looked like a greek statue. Carved straight from marble.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Your eyes shot up from his v-line and right to his lust filled eyes. “Shut up.” You shoved him onto the bed but he was quicker than you thought. Satoru had pulled you on top of him as he fell back. For nearly the third time this night.

He chuckled into the space between you two, “We have to stop meeting like this.” He smirked at you before he flipped the both of you over so that he was looming over you. He captured your lips in his again. It was searing compared to the last one. His wet warm tongue slipped into your mouth and you welcomed him with a moan.

With you in his bed and him on top of you, his smell was all around you. It made you wanna melt into his sheets and never leave. It was undoubtedly intoxicating. You brought your hands to his beautiful soft hair again and pulled him harder against you.

His hands were all over you. He moved his head down and laid kisses to your jaw then trailed down to your neck— his fingers occupied with unhooking your bra. When he freed your breasts he immediately brought his mouth down to one of the hardened buds.

Your back arched at the sensation. “Oh, fuck.”

Satoru lapped at your sensitive nub while his unoccupied hand tweaked the other. You felt your underwear dampen when his teeth scrapped against you. He let off of it with a pop and then dragged his tongue down you. He stopped at the top of your panties and nipped at the skin there.

It crossed your mind what he was about to do. “Oh. Satoru, you don’t have to.” Being eaten out wasn’t really one of your favorite things in bed.

He frowned, “You don’t want me to.” Satoru desperately wanted to taste you. He wanted to leave you trembling and gushing on his tongue.

“It just doesn’t really… do much for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never really, erm, finished from it…” You fiddled with your fingers, purposely not looking him in his bright blue eyes.

“Oh, baby, that’s a shame but I gotta make sure you’re ready. I’m about to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

Your heart swelled at the pet name before you audibly gulped. He smirked devilishly up at you before he wrapped his hands around your calves and pulled you down to the edge of his bed.

Satoru got on his knees in front of his bed, where your legs now dangled. He slowly pulled your panties down your legs and he let out a low groan when a string of wetness connected you to the fabric. “You’re so wet for me, hmm. I can’t wait to taste you.” He said in a pleased hum.

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit. You felt that knot tighten just a tad but enough for you to know that you had never had this done to you properly. He moved his head away from your wet heat and placed kisses on your inner thighs. Satorugripped under your knees and pushed your legs up.

He saw your hands gripping his sheets in anticipation. “Put your hands in my hair. Pull as much as you want, I like it.”

Oh?

You pushed his hair off of his forehead and ran your fingers through the strands before tugging lightly to test the waters. You were pleased to hear a low whine leave his lips.

He licked from your entrance up to your clit before he started to lap at your clit like he was making out with it. You lost your mind. You couldn’t control the noises that left your lips.

“Ah..” You jutted you hips up against his face, involuntarily.

Satoru closed his mouth on your clit and started to suck just as he sunk his long middle finger inside of you. He began to pump into you at a slow pace.

“Shit.” You panted and tightened your grip in his hair making him moan against your sensitive nub. The pleasures he was giving you was a thousand times better than what you did by yourself. He was reaching places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. Places your fingers could never dream of reaching.

He stopped suckling your clit and laid his tongue flat when you started to grind down on his finger. You were getting close to coming so so close. He added another digit to the finger that was already inside of you.

Your back arched off the bed and you pulled his hair harder than you had all night when those two fingers curved and hit the sweet soft spot deep inside of you. You were left babbling and mumbling. All he could hear was his name and a bunch of pleas and curses.

Satoru wrapped his lips around your swollen nub again as he continued to assault your g-spot. Your orgasm hit you in a flash of blacks and reds. A loud moan left your lips and your hands went lax in his hair.

He removed his mouth from you and let out a deep chuckle. His fingers continued to pump in you, letting you ride out your high. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He looked down as he removed his fingers from you, your juices glistening his chin and his fingers. He brought his fingers to his mouth and cleaned them off, “and just as sweet as I thought.”

Your mind was completely blank from your earth shattering orgasm. You just stared at him dopey.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? We can stop now.” Satoru asked when he came up to your face after you came down from your orgasm. And you truly couldn’t believe he would ask you a question like that mere inches away from your face with your juices dripping down his chin.

You aggressively nodded your head. You needed him. More than anything.

“C’mon use your words, pretty.” He hummed and it sent you reeling. His voice sounded so sultry and melodic. “Haven’t even got to fuck you dumb yet.”

“Yes, please. M’sure. I need you.”

“Yeah? I need you too.” He moved away from you and you immediately sat up to see where he was going. You saw him going to his nightstand and grab a condom. That’s when you remember what he said before he ate you out.

I gotta make sure you’re ready.

And that’s when your eyes fell down to the huge bulge in his sweats.

Satoru watched your eyes widen when he pulled his sweats and boxers off in one go. “It’s okay, you can take it. I got you.” He met you back at the edge of the bed. He didn’t even bother climbing in the bed with you. He was gonna fuck you off the edge of his bed. “I’ll go easy on you”

You bit your lip and watched him put the condom on and then line his thick tip with your sopping wet hole. As he began to sink into you inch by hefty inch. He made you feel so entirely full and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. You spread your legs wider for him. You wanted every inch of him inside of you.

“Heh-, See I told you you could take it.” His words sounded eerily similar to his ones earlier when you made a basket. He pushed all the way in, buried to the hilt. “Shit. You’re so tight.”

Satoru almost pulled all the way back out which had you reaching your hands for him. You were feeling emptier by the second with every inch that he pulled away from you. You were feeling needy and you didn’t even care how embarrassing it may have looked.

He slammed his hips back in, all the way in, he left you gasping for air. He started to find his pace and began to fuck you so good. He had his headboard hitting the wall repeatedly with his thrusts.

“You feel so good. Fuck.” He had his hands on your waist—his grip tight—as he continued to plow into your wet cunt. His eyes traced all over your pleasure blown face. Half lidded eyes staring up at him as you tried to maintain eye contact. Your mouth agape in a small ‘o’.

“You’re so big.” The sounds that left your mouth were almost inhumane. You wanted him closer. You needed him closer. You needed him raw. Every time you felt your climax building you just thought of how you’d be coming on a piece of latex and not his pretty dick.

“Can you take it off.” You whined. “Please. I wanna feel you, ‘toru.”

“W-what?” He grunted in response, you having caught him off guard. “Take what off, baby?” He didn’t stop his thrusts and brought his hands up to your breasts to tweak your nipples.

“T-the condom. Please take it off.” You mewled when the head of his cock came into contact with you cervix. You whined when he stalled at your words. He rolled his hips, his dick pressing deliciously against your cervix.

Who was he to deny you? Fuck, who was he to deny himself. “Fuck. Yes.” Satoru slowly pulled out of you. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and slowly pulled the condom off, wincing at the tightness. He tossed the condom into a little trashcan before he lined himself back up with your entrance.

You, getting impatient, wrapped your ankles around his ass and pulled him forward. His cock slid into you with ease. Satoru let out a deep moan when he slipped in bare. You feel so much better to him this way. Nothing dulling the feeling of your wet pussy to him. He was making more noise than he had been all night.

The noises leaving Satoru’s lips made your walls flutter around him. You were so close. You just were missing something. He brought his hand up to your throat and before he wrapped it around your neck he asked, “Is this okay.” You nodded fervently, answering his question.

You were gonna be the end of him, he thought. You were so fucking perfect. The way your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he closed his long fingers around your throat. “That feel good, pretty girl?”

You hummed in response. Your hands reached up and grabbed his arm. You let out a pathetic whimper when he tightened his grip. You felt that knot in your stomach getting ready to snap

“I said you’d forget your name not mine, baby. Say it.” He said as he hiked one of your legs up with his free hand so that he was hitting your g-spot. And he didn’t let up once he found it.

“Oh fuck.. Satoru!” You sobbed out— your words sounded harsh from the pressure on your throat. All you hear were the wet squelching sounds of him fucking into you raw. “Fuck, fuck. Baby, baby… M’gonna come.”

“Yeah?” He let out a low moan. “You want me to pull out?” He felt his balls tighten when your soaked walls clenched around him, pulling him in deeper.

“N-no.” That was definitely the complete opposite of what you wanted. You wanted him to come inside of you and not waste a drop.

“No?”

You shook your head. “Mmm. I want it inside. Please, s’toru, please. I need it.” You fucked him back as best as you could. “Come with me. I want.”

Satoru let go of your throat and leaned forward, hitting that spot even deeper.“Fuck, yeah. I got you, baby.” He continued to roll his hips into yours. You were a moaning and whimpering mess below him. His next three thrusts were hard and rough and just enough to make the both of you come with a loud shout from him and a moan from you.

The two of you were laying there panting with your mouths over the others.

“Fuck.” You finally broke the silence. “That was good.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Happy birthday to me huh?”

“What?! It’s your birthday?”

“Well, whose party did you think that was?”

You roll your eyes, “Happy birthday, Satoru.” He smiled down at you and placed a soft kiss to your lips. You finally came to your senses and realized he was still in you… and he was still very hard.

This was gonna be a long night.

my requests for satoru are open btw! click here

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk satoru #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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tatoda · 2 years ago

Text

Seeing you | college!conrad x fem!reader

!!MINORS DNI!!

request

masterlist

summary: you come to surprise conrad at college on a rainy night

pairing: college!conrad x fem!teader

warnings: SMUT!! fem receiving, piv, conrad pleasing reader, soft sex, male receiving CHARACTERS ARE 18

wc: 2.1K

sorry if it's not really put together but I did try my best sorry if there are any mistakes

The drive to Brown was horrible tonight. It’s as if it was raining cats and dogs. But you told yourself nothing would stop you from seeing your boyfriend. You had a horrible week back at home. Your sister Belly was making you help her with trigonometry, and the only person you learned from was Conrad but he was busy this whole week with finals. Belly would take up all your free time when you weren’t doing your classes online. You decided to stay home your first 2 years and do online to help with Susannah and your mom as they both were going through a lot. But to your siblings, that just meant you’re always home for them to ask you for anything.

The rain calmed down as you entered the campus. He didn’t know you were coming but he did text you and tell you he has the weekend free to rest until his next final on monday. You wouldn’t be lying if you said that you cried the 3 hours of driving you did and all of connie’s texts were going unanswered so he became worried. He called Steven who told him you were sleeping— he was in on the surprise.

Pulling up to his dorm building you parked the car and grabbed your bag before running through the rain to the entrance. You tried to use the backpack as an umbrella but it didn’t work as your clothes got damp. Walking to the elevator it opened and you clicked the top floor. It felt like the machine was taking forever because he was just a few feet away. And it’s been almost 3 weeks since you saw him last. The sliding doors opened and you speed-walked to his door. Standing in front of it, you knocked breathing out of your mouth.

“coming!” the familiar voice yelled out and the door opened to his beautiful face

“hi.” you softly spoke scared he didn’t want you here but he didn’t say anything just ran and picked you up holding you close to him

“oh my gosh.” his head was in your neck breathing in your scent “you’re here.” he looked back at your teary face

“i missed you.” he wiped a fallen tear

“don’t cry.” he kissed your forehead running his hands through your damp hair “you drove in this rain?” worry struck his face

“i needed to see you.” both his hands cupped your face

“i was so worried when you didn’t answer and then steven said you were sleeping, i didn’t believe him.” he laughed and you shook your head at your young brother

“can i come in?” he moved and let you into the dorm room. his roommate was gone and conrad’s side of the room was neatly made just like he always did in cousins

“my roommate finished his finals so he’s gone.” the door closed behind you as you dropped your bag pealing off your jacket before flopping on his bed “dork.” he chuckled and climbed behind you bringing him towards you. “missed you,” he mumbled

“not possible i missed you more.” you turned around in his arms taking in his face. his thumb slowly drifted across your face

“i’m sorry that i was so busy, i know you were having a hard week.” you shook your head

“just had no time to relax. Belly needed help with trig and it got to a point i couldn’t understand, and then steven called me one night at like three am drunk asking for a ride when i had work at five. my mom was all over the place with your mom and it was a mess.” he didn’t interrupt you he just listened

“i’m sorry i couldn’t be there, you know jere can help too.”

“jere was drunk with steven.”

“of course he was.” conrad laughed “well i’m almost done with finals so i’m gonna be all yours.” he sighed bringing you closer to kiss you softly and you brought your hands up to his soft hair that you missed so much. the kiss depended as he moved to get on top of you putting his weight on you “missed you so much, gosh,” he whispered against your lips

“show me.” his eyes darkened as those words came out of your mouth.

“baby,” he mumbled looking down at you

“con, i’ve missed you so much, please. it’s been forever since you touched me.” a small smirk grew on his face before he leaned down to kiss your lips softly and then slowly descend down to your neck, but his lips stayed there as his hand drifted down towards the waistband of your sweatpants “please”

He didn’t have to be told twice by you. Conrad let his hand slip under your underwear and finally makes contact with you feeling the effect he has on you. His fingers started slowly circling your clit and it made you buck your hips into him feeling the hard pressure from him against you. He didn’t focus on that. Only you. He wanted to make sure you were satisfied. He could wait. As he teased you around your entrance his lips stopped kissing your neck and he looked into your eyes lovingly.

“hi,” you breathed into him as he ran a finger over you again

“hi baby.” he smiled down at you and slipped a finger inside of you catching your mouth in a gasp he kissed you “like that?” you nodded fast against him as he slowly moved in and out of you “so pretty.” he kissed the tip of your nose as he moved his thumb to play with your clit again circling it just how you liked it

“con.” you bucked into him again

“i’m not gonna let you cum, don’t you worry we’re gonna do that together.” he moved faster on the spot you needed him most before pulling out of you when he knew you were getting close

“yeah, yeah.” you sighed and conrad peeled off his shirt over his head and then helped you out of yours to see the lace bra you were wearing

“for me?” you leaned back on your elbows giving him a nice view

“the one and only.” he chuckled before you grabbed the side of his face and brought your lips back together. you slightly lifted yourself and unclipped your bra letting it fall between the both of your bodies. conrad sighed as he looked at your tits wondering how he got so lucky. he then moved both his hands to your waistband and separated from you

“you sure? i just thought you would be tired from the drive.” you couldn’t help but smile at him as he was the most caring and loving boy you have ever met

“for you, always.” he didn’t need another word before dragging both your underwear and pants down and tossed them off the bed to the floor

“careful connie gonna get your room dirty.”

“i’m only fine with that if you cause the mess.” he connected your lips once more as your hands drifted to his jeans. you could do this blindfolded anytime any day of the week. the button popped and you rolled the zipper down and pushed the fabric past his thighs, conrad groaned as it went past his hard erection

“fuck.” he fell to your shoulder

“seems like someone missed me,” you said kissing the side of his head

“give me a break, there’s so much phone sex with you can do.” you couldn’t respond as he bit down on your neck. next thing you knew his boxers were off and he was reaching into his side table for a condom. you designed the box where he kept them as it said ‘for y/n use only’ which you loved and conrad laughed as you gave it to him for his birthday. he ripped open the package and you relaxed on the bed as he slipped the condom on “soft tonight okay? missed you too much.” biting your lip you nodded as he breathed out lining up to you before pushing in little by little getting used to you again

“conrad.” you gasped digging your nails into his back

“i know baby, we have to get used to it again.” he moved a little more as a small whimper came out of you

“just go all the way. this is too much.” he listened to your words and pushed more into you

“fuck!” he bottomed out catching his breath and looked down at your closed-eyed figure “look at me.” he moved your hair from your face and your eyes opened to his pretty face “if it becomes too much, you let me know.”

“okay, i promise.” he relaxed onto you and moved his hips out before pushing them back into you causing both of you to groan

“j-just don’t moan too loud, i got neighbors.” he breathed out. last time you both had sex here conrad got a noise complaint and if he got a second one it would be his last warning for any visitors

“sorry.” you whispered against his lips and his hips slowed movements letting you feel him “don’t slow down.”

“just needed to feel you.” he dipped his head into the crook of your neck holding you close as if he wasn’t inside of you close enough already, you squeezed around him and his body jolted “if you do that again i will cum, and i really don’t want that.”

“then fuck me conrad.” he lifted his head as his eyes darkened over yours

“yes ma’am.” he pulled out all the way and slammed his hips back into yours the sound of skin slapping echoed around the room, he did that multiple times. it wasn’t hard it was telling and passion

As your breaths mixed you both slowly started to lose control. His hips got sloppy and that was a sigh he was getting closer to his edge. But something about conrad is he never wanted to finish first, he wanted you to have to spotlight before he finished after you.

“cant last much longer.” he grabbed one of your hands bringing it above your head and interlocking your fingers together as he looked down between the both of you and where you were connected

“me too.” you arched your back as he hit a spot like never before “fuck.” the man above you continued to hit that g-spot and you started to shake uncontrollably “con-“ he brought his lips down to your mouth and dragged one more thrust before you came, he slowed his movements letting you relax.

“i got you.” he pushed some of your hair away from your face

“did you finish?” the answer was no. he wanted you to feel special even before he could ever

“no it’s okay, i wanted it to be about you-“ you cut him off flipping both of you over carefully as the twin bed didn’t have much room. you slipped the condom off tying it and tossed it in his trash can

“y/n.” he sighed laying back on full display for you

“let me take care of you now.” leaning down his hard erection stayed up, red at the tip wanted to release

“do something baby.” you nodded before taking him all in your mouth

“god i love it when you do that.” using your hands you stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth and he bucked into your mouth hearing a gagging sound come from your throat “sorry.” but you ignored him coming up and sucking on the tip before going down again “cumming.” he groaned out and the warm texture filled your mouth some falling out past your lips “fuck, fuck” he held your head in place slowly pumping to get the rest out “good girl.” he sighed and fell back onto his pillow as you swallowed what you could then grabbing his shirt to clean the both of you

“good?” you wanted to make it everything he wanted

“amazing, come here.” he reached for you and you grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed before cuddling into his side covering the think texture over the two of you “i love you.” he looked down at your face

“i love you.” leaning up to kiss him softly he could taste himself on you and he knew there would be many more rounds tomorrow “thank you for visiting.”

“of course, i’d be lost without you conrad fisher.” and you closed your eyes driving off to sleep as he realized, he was gonna marry you one day.

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #conrad fisher #prime video #the summer i turned pretty season 2 #conrad fisher one shot #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x y/n #tsitp team conrad #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher smut #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher x fem!reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher imagine #team conrad

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thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

My Queen || Aragorn

Summary: Request - Can I pleeeease send you an idea where he finds a girl in the woods, hurt and not conscious but he feels the need to help her and be close to her. So he takes care of her wounds till she wakes up and it's like true love at first sight for both of them... Read Rest Here

A/N: OH WOW, this got out of hand QUICK but I had SO MUCH FUNNNN writing this way! It was a challenge but it felt invigorating to write. I am obsessed with Aragorn and I just love him. Margot Robbie is so right for her cinematic crush! Thank you for the request anon, hope you love it :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 10,000 +

TW: Violence, orc violence, poison, death, blood, crying, angst, lotr warnings, Aragorn being hot af

Just a few more stumbling steps. You could do it. Glancing down you grimaced at the crimson coated and tattered dress that you’d been wearing for the last five or so days. It used to be so gorgeous, a gift from the man you were meant to wed. Truly it was the only exquisite gift you’d ever received in your entirety. However now it looked as if it’d seen a thousand lives, just like the elves had. It bore this resemblance due to the attack on your home. You ran. Running far away from everything you knew. It was tough to grasp just how much you’d been through in the five days since you had to flee your small village just outside of Eriador.

You’d had a good life. Good but rather simple. Almost too simple for your taste. You were engaged to be wed to the local jewelers son at your father’s doing. He had assured you over and over again that going through with the wedding would lead you to a life that he could not provide you. A life you were destined for. Your mother, Valar rest her soul, had been killed a few years prior in an attack on your village leaving you with your father and a small place to live. But it was home.

The local jeweler boy, Newall, had asked you to take a walk around the village right before the tragic events occurred. One moment you were giving him your kindest smile. The next he pushed you into the woods after hearing the screaming coming from the village center. Not making your most brilliant decision you decided to follow behind him only to come to the horrifying realization that your seemingly insignificant village was being brutalized by Orc’s. You stood there frozen in fear as you witnessed men, women and children being slain as if they meant nothing.

It was only when you came face to face with one that you realized how much trouble you were in. Valar save you. He must’ve listened because the Orc simply look at you, growled and pushed you into the side of the house you were standing next to. But then it dawned on you that he wasn’t done. The creature walked to you terrifyingly slow, standing over you before driving it’s sword into your side. Before you could even yelp out in pain the orc vanished leaving you to die presumably. But it was a shallow wound. It didn’t seem like it was trying to do too much damage. Orcs knew one thing, killing. It was odd that one would have spared you.

When you finally came back to the reality of the situation you knew you had to go. Run to Bree. Your dad always instructed that’s where you needed to go. You had an uncle up there that could look after you. Deciding not to waste another second you rushed inside the house grabbing whatever clothing you could find. Tying a pair of Newall’s pants around your waste to hopefully stop the bleeding you only grabbed a little bit of food before you made for the forest. You’d have to find something along the way. The trek to Bree would take nearly a month on foot.

Using the stars as guidance you moved through the forest you knew very well. It started out fine. You were trained to do just this. Your father had made sure of it. What you hadn’t considered was the poison from the orc blade that was slowly taking its toll on your body. It was the fourth night that you realized you were in serious trouble. On the fifth day you decided you weren’t going to be able to go any further. No wonder the Orc didn’t just kill you there. He left you to suffer. What a vile creation.

It didn’t take you long to decide on where you wanted to die. You found a nice tree under the shade of the leaved with a comfortable base. You were just going to go to sleep and hopefully never wake up. Hopefully the poison would just do what it wanted to and let you finally go.

That did not happen though. You felt a light kick on your boot forcing your eyes to open. What you weren’t expecting was a rather handsome looking ranger with ice blue eyes to be staring right at you. Considering what to do.

“Miss,” He knelt down after whispering something to his horse, “Are you injured?” His surprisingly concerned eyes spotted the blood that coated your worn-down dress.

Taking a long breath, you mustered enough strength to answer the stranger, “Yea, Master Ranger.” You let your head lean back on the trunk of the tree relieving the strain it seemed to put on year mere consciousness.

“Forgive me, but you do not look it miss.” His head was level with yours as he moved closer to you. He didn’t dare touch you without your permission, but he wanted too, you were not all right like you so miserably tried to convince him.

A shallow breath escaped you, “I fear I have been stabbed by an Orc blade Ranger. I do not have much longer.” Your eyes flicked away from his in a pathetic attempt to rid him of the conversation. He would have no such thing though. Leave a fair maiden to perish on her own? Not on his accord.

“Strider.” He corrected you. It wasn’t often he’d give out his Ranger known name to strangers, but you seemed harmless enough. What could a human woman such as yourself have done to deserve such a fate he wondered before continuing on, “We are but a half days journey to a small town called Sarn Ford. Have you heard of it miss?” He asked in hopes of seeing your eyes open once more.

You did as he wished and looked at him again, “Sarn Ford? Oh dear. I’ve gone the wrong direction.” You grimaced in pain as you tried to sit up higher on the tree trunk.

“Where are traveling to miss? On your own?” He held out an open hand for you to take. He left the decision on if you’d accept the help up to you.

Eyeing his hand, you knew he was prying. But he seemed trustworthy. The Rangers of the North were meant to be. Strider as he called himself. Your eyes met his again and you caved right then and there. He looked genuine, like he thought he could actually help you. Like you were not too far gone. With all the strength you could muster in your quickly fading body you put your hand in his, “Aye. My village was attacked by orcs. Third time in the last five years. They got me this time.” You sighed trying your hardest to stay conscious, “I was meant to travel to Bree. But I must have taken to the wrong direction. I will be blaming the Orc poison for the misdirection.” You let out a pained laugh trying to lighten the tone of the conversation going on between the two of you.

“All right. Off we go. What is your name?” He asked you needing to know to continue.

He watched you intently sputter out the words you were trying to get out. His fear of orc poison was right, you truly did not have that much time left. With your permission he scooped you up in his arms, called his horse over and positioned you in front of him while he rode. He knew you did not have enough strength to hold on from behind. He knew It would be a challenge to keep you upright on the journey back to Sarn Ford. He was meeting Gandalf there, anyway, might as well help the woman who he had taken a fast liking towards. Even Strider could see the beauty in things, and you were mighty beautiful in his eyes. Even coated in layers of dirt and grime he knew you shined like a star above him.

“Y/N.” You admitted to the man not feeling up to lying to him. You would likely be dead before dawn anyway. You would have hoped he would find a way to let anybody surviving know of your unfortunate fate. But in reality you were just another causality of war. A human life cut far too short.

“Lovely name.” He smiled lowly as he held you into him. He could feel you were fading in and out of consciousness as he held onto your waist tightly.

You hummed in thanks not having the strength to reply to him.

“Hold on miss Y/N. We will be there soon.” He spoke into your ear startling you back onto the middle earth side of consciousness.

But as much as he tried you had succumbed to your own fate. Blackness took over before you reached the village of Sarn Ford.

Much to your own surprise your eyes opened once more. You peaked around seeing all sorts of supplies. You must have been in some sort of healers room you concluded quickly. Looking down you were not in your attire you had been found in but a simple dress that you were more accustomed too. Being so caught up in your own accord you had yet to see the two men. Well one man and one wizard standing off to the side conversing as you came back to reality.

“Welcome young one.” The wizard spoke. You had never seen one before. Thought they were the thing of legends. But sure, as it would be one stood before you. They were easy to spot. Had an aura about them.

Your eyes snapped back to Striders looking at him in surprise. He was more handsome than you remembered as the sun beat down on his features through the window in the hut you were in, “It is all right.” He nodded at you, “This is Gandalf the Grey, he is an old friend of mine.”

“Hello Gandalf.” You broke your eyes away from the stranger your somewhat knew and turned your head towards the wizard.

“How are you fairing?” He asked whilst leaning onto his cane.

“Fine now. Thank you.” You turned toward Strider who made his way closer, “Thank you Strider. For without you I fear I may have been dead by now.” A shiver of realization ripped down your spine as you admitted it out loud.

He bowed his head, “I am honored to have been of service miss Y/N.” You looked over to him giving him a bashful smile. He was really so handsome. More handsome than any of the boys or men in your small village.

“Are you well enough to travel?” Gandalf asked breaking the trance the two of you had been locked in for a moment too long to be just friendly glances. Gandalf was considered wise for a reason. He had an inkling feeling there was something budding between his usually broody friend and the pretty human girl he had found in the woods. Maybe you were his gift from Valar. Every great leader needed one. Who was Gandalf to question the gods.

“I believe so.” You sat you wincing only slightly as the wound in your side. Strider wanted nothing more than to push you back down and curse the wizard who suggested you move so soon.

“Miss Y/N. You need to rest a little longer.” He insisted placing a gentle hand on your shoulder preventing you from standing.

Gandalf grumbled, “You must get to the Prancing Pony Inn. I’m going to meet Frodo now. Time is of the essence Aragorn.”

Your eyes crumbled in confusion. Who was Aragorn?

He did not leave you time to question as he grabbed at your hand, “Come miss Y/N. We have a ride to take.”

You sat at the bar table with Strider who had hood of his robe covering his face. You grew more uneasy as the night wore on at the Prancing Pony. The horse ride was quick thankfully. And much to your delight the Hobbits Gandalf was speaking of finally appeared. Right on time.

Strider shot up from his seat, “Wait here miss Y/N. I must save the Hobbit.” He sighed before bounding off into the depths of the bar. You felt even more uneasy as the eyes around you made their way to your shaking frame. You were nervous.

After far too many moments alone he grabbed you by your arms, “Come Y/N. We must hide.” He directed you to another room than the ones you had planned on staying in.

“Strider?” You asked following him up a set of stairs you were unfamiliar with.

“Nazgul. I’ll explain later. For now, you must sleep. We have a long journey to Rivendell. Especially with the Hobbits.” He let a long breath while opening the door for you. Quickly, you were attacked by questions from the four little Hobbits. Happily, though you answered every single one before lying next to Strider who promised to keep watch.

“You should get some rest too.” You whispered hoping not to wake the sleeping Hobbits.

He nodded, “I shall. In due time. I fear we have something coming.”

Your frown was evident as he continued to try and comfort you, “Do not fret. I am keeping watch for a reason. We are safe.”

“I believe you Strider.” You yawned not being able to keep the tiredness away for much longer.

“Rest.” He commanded.

You were far too tired to argue that as the darkness crept in.

You were woken when the screeching next door commenced. The Hobbits must’ve had more sensitive ears as they were already up and staring at Strider who looked glum.

“What are they?” Frodo asked.

He sat at the window looking at the five of you, “They were once men. Great kings of men. The Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power.” You felt a shiver ripple across your body. You’d heard the legends and did not believe those either. Yet again, another thing coming true right before your eyes.

“We must move.” He commented seeing the Nazgul retreating away from the inn.

You must have walked for miles until Strider had the five of you rest at the old watchtower of Amon Sul. You stood there behind the Hobbits staring up the decaying rock structure before you. It must have been grand in its time.

Once you were seated next to the Hobbits he stood and tossed each of you a weapon, “These are for you. Keep them close. I’m going to have a look around. Miss Y/N, will this blade be too large for you?” He handed you a smaller sword for you to try.

“I fear you have too much faith in me Strider.” You unsheathed the sword holding onto it carefully, “But this will work.” You nodded towards him.

“You shall not have to use it. In case only.” He pointed at each of you, “I will be back. Rest. Make no noise or sound.” His command was easy to follow. A natural born leader it seemed.

You woke when you heard Frodo yelling from beside you, “What are you doing?” He yelled a little too loud. You rose from the ground you had managed to sleep on and watched the interaction unfold. You cursed when you saw the fire going. He had not explicitly said no fires, but the intention was there.

“Put it out you fools!” Frodo cried. You rose from your slumber and haphazardly helped him put it out.

The horrifying cry you heard from the Nazgul the night before rang out from outside the watch tower.

“Oh no.” You spotted them coming towards you, “No Strider?” You turned to Frodo with a horrifying realization.

He shook his head, “Go! Up!” You followed the Hobbits to the top of the tower and waited. You shivered when you saw them come from the shadows. You heard nothing but your hammering heart in your chest. This was it. This could be the end. You sword was shaking in your hand.

“Back you devils!” Sam screamed trying to shield them off. You blocked a shot but was stopped when Frodo pulled the ring out. You gasped when they all ran from him. To your horror when he put the ring on he disappeared.

Strider came out of nowhere blocking back the Nazgul from all of you. You ran to Frodo in horror seeing the man defend the five of you with ease. A few of them went up in flames as kept fighting them off. They had enough when he got another went up and flames and ran off. Strider quickly came over to the five of you surrounding Frodo. You had your hand on his horrifyingly black wound. You’d never seen poison like that before.

“Help him Strider!” You cried in a shaky voice once he kneeled down next to you.

He picked the sword up shaking his head slowly, “He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade.” The blade vanished in his hand as Frodo writhed beneath you, “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine.”

You looked down at the Hobbit in pain and let a single tear fall, “We will get you the help you need mister Frodo. Rest assured.” He picked the Hobbit up and began running, “Let us go.”

The four of you trailed Strider in a daze. The Nazgul screams seemed to ring out from every direction as you ran, “Hurry!” he shouted at the four of you with Frodo crying in his arms.

“We are six days from Rivendell! He will never make it!” Sam cried sending a shuddering realization through you.

You simply heard a faint whisper come from Strider ahead of you, “Hold on, Frodo.” From Strider who kept running and did not acknowledge Sam. As tired as you were you had to keep moving for Frodo’s sake. You ran and ran until you could no more and then you ran some more.

He only stopped when he ran into three petrified trolls. He set Frodo down looking around frantically. You and Sam went over to look after him. Same placed a gentle hand to the despondent Hobbit.

Sam shuddered at the touch, “Mr. Frodo! He’s going cold.”

“Is he going to die?” Pippen chimed in. You stood back looking over the shivering Hobbit who long since stopped crying out in pain.

Strider turned to the five of you with a concerned look crossing over his features, “He’s passing into the Shadow World. He’ll soon become a Wraith like them.” He stated so calmly. Your face grimaced at the horrifying realization. Frodo becoming a Nazgul?

Strider continued, “Sam, do you know the Athlelas plant?” You listened in but bent down to hold Frodo’s hand hoping some comfort would help the gasping Hobbit. His eyes were glazing over with something of a blue sheen that sent shivers down your body.

“Athelas?” Sam asked confused by the question.

“Kingsfoil.” Strider tried a different name.

Sam nodded, “Kingsfoil, aye, it’s a weed!”

“It may help the poisoning. Hurry!” He pushed the Hobbit off, “Miss Y/N. Stay with Frodo. We will be back with help.” You nodded holding onto his hand dearly.

Not a few moments later you saw the help arriving. A beautiful elf strode over and down to the quickly fading Hobbit. You took a step back as she took a step towards him. You gaped at the beauty that she was leaning down to your newfound friend. An elf in real life. She was beyond your wildest imagination. You had been told of their beauty, but this was bordering on ethereal.

“I am Arwen. I have come to help you.” She whispered into his ear, “Hear my voice. Come back to the light.” She grabbed at his hand while Strider handed her the plant.

“Who is she?” Merry asked quietly as Frodo was tended to.

“Arwen, an elf.” You whispered repeating what you heard her speak to Frodo not seconds ago, “She’s going to save him.” You said out loud to convince yourself more so than the group of Hobbits.

“Frodo,” She whispered, “He’s fading.” She sounded concerned as she looked over to Strider, “He’s not going to last. We must get him to my father.” The two of them stood as Strider grabbed at Frodo, “I’ve been looking for you for two days.” She said to Strider. You watched as the scene unfolded before you not wanting to get in the way of whatever was occurring.

“Where are you taking him?” Sam asked confused and terribly concerned for his friend.

He was ignored as Arwen continued, “There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know.” You watched as Strider put Frodo onto the horse with ease.

Suddenly Strider started talking in what you assumed to be Sindarin as you could not understand what they were saying. They must have agreed upon something as Arwen hopped onto the horse and took off with Frodo. Your mind was sent into a spiral as you guessed where he was going and off so quickly.

“She is taking him to Rivendell. To Lord Elrond for him to be healed. She is the faster rider and will get him there sooner. Come, we must go.” He motioned for the group to keep moving, “Miss Y/N, will you walk with me?”

You nodded speeding up your pace to match his, “Master Strider.”

“Strider is fine.” He hummed as he led the group out of the forest somehow knowing exactly where to go.

“Is he going to make it?” You had to ask him. The thought of his passing was eating at you.

He nodded, “His best chance is with Arwen. The sooner we get to Rivendell the sooner we will find out.”

“Well then let us speed up our pace then.” You smiled up at him.

He chucked and nodded. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence as you occasionally made sure the chatty Hobbits behind you were faring all right.

“She is pretty.” You spoke after a while of not being able to get Arwen’s face out of your mind.

“Arwen?” He questioned you giving you a curious once over seeing that the statement seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Aye. She is beautiful.”

“She is. Most elves are.” He agreed with you, “She is wed to another healer. Her father set the marriage up ages ago before you great great grandmother was even a thought.”

“Oh, to have the lifespan of an elf!” You laughed feeling the weight of whatever tension you were holding onto about Arwen be lifted.

“I bet it is not all that it seems to be.” You nodded as the two of you continued on the trek to Rivendell occasionally chatting about random things back and forth. You were so caught up in him you failed to notice the Hobbits watching the two you of converse the entire journey back as if you were already a married couple just strolling the lands.

“Welcome to Rivendell miss Y/N.” Aragorn smiled when he saw your gaping face taking in all the scenery stretching beyond your wildest imagination. He too was struck in awe by its beauty the first time he had come across it all those years ago.

“This cannot be real.” You gasped as he took your hand, pulling you along to look along the city.

“Aye. It is. Come, I want to show you your living quarters for the time being.” He pulled you along knowing exactly where to go in Lord Elrond’s castle. He stopped in what you assumed to be the center seeing two people walking towards the two of you. The wizard and a dark-haired elf stopped just short of you.

“Ah, welcome young one.” Gandalf walked up with who you assumed to be Lord Elrond, “It is wonderful to see you in one piece. Unlike our young Frodo.” He chuckled not realizing what he had said sounded bad without knowing how he was.

Your face dropped, “Oh no, did he not make it?”

Gandalf shook his head hastily in realization of his error, “He is fine young one. A few more hours and he would not have made it.” Gandalf stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder in reassurance, “Aragorn here will show you to your chambers.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Aragorn? You said that back in Sarn Ford as well. Who is Aragorn?” This really was not your place to speak in front of so many important people. But you were always a curious one, so you had to ask. The worst they could do is refuse to elaborate any further and you would not press. You did understand boundaries even if you pushed them.

Strider looked at Gandalf with a question in his gaze. Gandalf always had a plan. He could see the feelings bubbling to the surface for Aragorn for his newfound human companion that had to be a gift from Valar himself. Gandalf knew the longer he kept his identity from you the harder the breach of trust would befall the two of you.

Gandalf nodded giving his friend a push towards you. He knew Aragorn had to admit this to you himself. You saw Lord Elrond cock his head in confusion watching the interaction go down. He must not have been privy to what had been going down in Gandalf’s mind.

“Ah, miss Y/N. Strider is my Ranger name. It is my identity. As is Aragorn. Son of Arathorn.” He spoke slowly watching as your face twisted from confusion to realization. You may have been from Eriabor, but you surely knew who Arathorn was.

He continued, “I am also called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor."

“A rightful King?” You asked him with widened eyes. You had no clue that you had been traveling with such a company. You had been so crass it made you want to run away right then and there, especially with Gandalf and Lord Elrond’s amused gazes watching the interaction between two humans.

He nodded, “You are correct.”

“Aragorn.” You spoke for the first time giving him a wide smile, “I do like it. It suits a King such as yourself. Would you mind if I continued to call you Strider though?” Bowing your head slightly you felt a rush of embarrassment pulsate through you. Why were you so unladylike? It was all so thoughtless when he was just a Ranger. Not a bloody King of Gondor.

He waited until your eyes met his again, “No need to bow miss Y/N. And thank you. You may call me either.”

A quick head nod was interrupted by Gandalf, “We must be off. Aragorn drop the young one off at her residence. You are free to explore the castle and Rivendell. But we will need you to meet us in the gardens. We have much to discuss before the Council of Elrond shows up in a few days.” Gandalf spoke directly to Strider who just nodded in agreement.

“Come miss Y/N.” He took your hand and pulled you along quickly, “You will enjoy your stay here. It is a wonderful place. There is quite a bit to do, and the elves are very kind.” He tried his best to reassure you knowing that Gandalf was right. You could not go on. You were not prepared for this kind of journey to any extent. Gandalf also revealed of Aragorn’s known feelings for you. You would be a distraction he could not have along the journey.

“It seems like it.” You grinned thankful you were able to do your own thing for the afternoon. You felt bad for Strider or Aragorn. He seemed to have quite a bit of business to attend to.

He stopped at a door letting you inside. It was small but quant and rather extravagant. Fine details laced every surface. You’d come to expect nothing less from the elves, “I will find you later. Enjoy your day miss Y/N.”

The days went by slowly as you got acquainted with Rivendell. You had the sneaking suspicion your journey was also stopping as Strider was not so keen on giving you any information even though he was gone for days on end.

It was on the day of the gathering of the Council of Elrond that you had all but given up. That was until there was a rapid knocking at your door. Thankfully your elf maiden Nimloth had made sure you were dressed as Strider stood before you with a smile on his face, “Come miss Y/N. The Council of Elrond is starting soon.”

“I am invited?” You were sure there was a dumb look on your face.

He nodded slowly, “Gandalf insisted. Lord Elrond relented.”

You followed him in silence to the gathering of the council. You sat behind Frodo closer to Lord Elrond and away from all of the action that was sure to go down.

It was not long after you took a seat that Lord Elrond stood gathering the council to begin, “Strangers from distant lands, friends of old and new,” His eyes met yours giving you a small wink before continuing on, “You’ve been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fail. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo.” A shiver ran down your spine at his straight to the point opening. This was not good.

You watched as Frodo stood and dropped the ring on the stump in the middle of the council.

You heard the man called Boromir speak up, “So it is true.” He looked at the ring with something of desire lacing it. You looked at Strider who was watching the man skeptically. He continued, “The doom of man. It is a gift.” Your heart raced at such a senseless statement. You watched as Strider grew angry at his arrogance.

Nevertheless, Boromir continued, “A gift of the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father the Steward of Gondor kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against them.” He passionately spoke hoping to gain the agreement of the Council.

But Strider would have none of that false speak, “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.” Your heart rate sped down at the sensible statement to the man you had grown quite fond of in your week or so of traveling. You had grown a strong liking to the handsome Ranger who saved your life without a second thought.

Boromir looked skeptically at Strider, “And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” He asked with a smug look to his face. You wanted to slap that look right off of his face for he had no clue who he was talking to! A king!

But the elf called Legolas stood quickly in his defense, “This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, Son of Arathon.” You watched as his face scrunched up in a minor irritation. He had tried so hard to keep that a secret and now it was out, “You owe him your allegiance.” He finished looking just as irritated as Strider did. It still felt weird to call him Aragorn. So, you kept up with Strider.

Boromir turned back to him, “Aragorn.” He spoke with a hint of shock in his tone, “This is Isildur’s heir?”

“An heir to the throne of Gondor.” Legolas spoke earning a glare from Strider who spoke to him in Elvish quickly. You wondered what he said because Boromir looked suddenly very angry.

Boromir nearly spat with vengeance while looking at the blond elf, “Gondor has no king.” He turned to look back at Strider and shook his head, “Gondor needs no king.”

Gandalf spoke up breaking the tension among men, “Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.”

Lord Elrond stood, “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

The dwarf called Gimli stood then, “What are we waiting for?” He grabbed his axe and sliced at it in attempt to shatter it. Of course, that did nothing but startle the entire council into submission.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin... by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade.” Lord Elrond spoke matter of factly. You watched as Frodo nearly collapsed from the pain and realization. You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder hoping he would find some solace in the touch.

Lord Elrond continued, “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.” Your heart was hammering in your chest at the realization. This would be no easy task for anybody let alone a Hobbit and human group, “One of you, must do this.” Lord Elrond commanded sending your head into so many different directions. Would Strider go? Would the Hobbits? Surely you would never be able to go. No, Strider would never allow it. He had made that very clear.

Boromir sighed, “One does not simply walk into Mordor. It’s Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly.”

Legolas was angry now. He shot up from his seat spitting his words at the man, “Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed.”

Gimli spoke up next, “And I suppose you think you are the one to do it!” The tension grew in the air as everyone began to feel uneasy of the task at hand.

Boromir stood next, “And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

Gimli continued, “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!” He shouted. Your eyes went wide as everything seemed to be going away from the goal at hand, “Never trust an Elf!”

The group erupted in bickering as you and Frodo sat back in fear of what was going to happen. All but suddenly you watched as Frodo stood. He shouted, “I will take it.” It took him a few attempts before the group heard him.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor.” He said again once everyone had quieted down. You gulped as you watched the scene unfold.

He spoke again, “Though, I do not know the way.”

Gandalf nodded, “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins as long as it is yours to bear.”

You sat further back into your chair as you watched Strider stand, “If by my life or death I can protect you I will.” Your heart sunk at his words. He caught your forlorn gaze and gave you a simple smile. He walked to Frodo and knelt before the small Hobbit, “You have my sword.”

Legolas stepped forward, “And you have my bow.” Your heart raced seeing the elf walk forward. Thank goodness he volunteered. You had heard stories of the mighty elf warrior of Mirkwood.

“And my ax.” Gimli agreed as he walked towards the growing group. You stood from your spot away from the group, closer towards Lord Elrond. Almost as if you had already known your assigned fate.

Boromir joined slowly, “You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council then Gondor will see it done.” He stood by the group.

Suddenly the other hobbits joined in earning a hard-earned smile from Lord Elrond.

“Nine companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” You watched as Elrond anointed the group complete. Your downcast eyes found Striders who looked at you with all the care in the world. You were more than nervous for the man you had grown so fond of so quickly. Dare you say you might actually have real genuine feelings for the man standing in the group of nine.

“The journey is no place for a lady.” Strider insisted as he pulled you away from the fellowship. He had conjured up a hundred scenarios in his mind and decided you could not come after seeking the guidance of Gandalf. It was far too dangerous for someone as delicate as you were. He shuddered at the thought of seeing you with a sword far too big for you trying your best to defend not only yourself but the Hobbits from the Nazgul. He never wanted to see or put you in such a situation as that ever again.

Your look broke his heart ten times over. It is not like he wanted to leave you in Rivendell with the elves. He would do anything to take you, but it was just far too dangerous. The encounter with the Nazgul did it in enough for him to hold firm on the decision, “I’m not a lady Aragorn, and you know it! But I understand.” You countered but admitted your faults. You were nothing but a lowly peasant from a tiny village near Eriador. You didn’t mean much to middle earth, a place holder for whatever Valar had planned.

He twisted his head to the side giving you a once over and a sly smile, “Not yet anyway.” He walked towards you, stopping right in front of you. Wanting to say the next word so all the elves and Hobbits behind him couldn’t hear. Having to turn your head up to make eye contact he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I have every intention of making you one, my lady.”

Your eyes growing wide and the rosiness that formed on your neck and cheeks made the elves behind him laugh in unison amongst themselves. You noticed the confusion lining the Hobbits faces, no doubt wonder what he had said to you to illicit such a reaction.

You looked back to him with the hint of smile dancing on your lips, “They can hear you Strider.”

He brushed the pads of his fingers along your jawline, “Let them.” He had yet to be so forthcoming with his feelings so far. Sure, you had only known him a little over a week but you had not left his side since you met him. It had already felt so long ago. And when the heart knew it knew. It knew it had feelings for the handsome man with the most beautiful blue eyes that looked at you so kindly standing before you.

“Please be safe.” Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you accepted his command. You could not go along with them. You’d be nothing but the burden you so desperately wanted to avoid. But you also did not want to stay in Rivendell. The elves seemed welcoming enough but who knew how long he would have to be gone. You would surely overstay your welcome.

A curt nod came from the man you’d grown to love in such a short amount of time, “As you wish.” He moved his fingers to your eyes brushing away the tears that had managed to spill over, “Do not cry. I will be back as soon as I can.” The moment felt far too intimate to have the whole company trying not to watching but paying close attention anyway, they were not being sly about like they thought they were. They had all grown to adore you in some capacity, more some than others. Pippen was especially sad your journey had ended there. He had quite enjoyed getting to know you along the short trek from The Shire to Rivendell. You were unlike any other mortal he had met.

“I know. But you will find me in Bree.” You answered him letting the tears fall even as you tried your best to stop them.

He shook his head quickly, “No, you will stay here. In Rivendell. You will be protected here. Lord Elrond has assured me of that.” That sounded more like Aragorn than the Strider you knew. It hit you that the rightful King of Gondor was standing right in front of you. No wonder he had seemed so effortless in leading the group to Rivendell. It was in his blood.

“I do not belong here Aragorn.” You spoke in a plea muttering his actual name for just the second time. It still felt foreign, but you welcomed it on your tongue. Aragon, King of Gondor.

His eyes piqued up in utter curiosity at the sudden name change. You had seemed so adamant on continuing to call him by his Ranger name despite finding his true identity through Gandalf, “You can find an identity here my lady. Lord Elrond will not let that falter. Do you not believe me?” He frowned not enjoying seeing you in such a distressed state. He too had grown to have deep feelings for you. You were kind and compassionate. Smarter than you knew. Made him smile more than he ever had in his life in the short time he had known you. You kept him on his toes, and he adored that about you. He grew to like maybe even love you in mere days.

“I am a burden here. Useless. They will get sick of me.” You were pleading to him now. If you knew better you would not be pushing somebody of such high stature.

He gulped not knowing what to say. He could pick up on your stress through your expression and the way you picked at your fingernails. A habit he’d seen both at the Inn and when the group was attacked by the Nazgul. Just as he was about to open his mouth he heard Elrond from behind him. And bless him he thought for he had no idea how to calm your racing mind.

“Have you not enjoyed your stay here at Rivendell? Do you not wish to stay?” Lord Elrond spoke up after hearing the concerns you had spoken in private to Aragorn. He knew he likely should have just stayed quiet and let Aragorn handle the situation. But his overly sensitive ears could pick up the frantic panic in your voice towards the man.

You shook your head quickly, “No my lord. I wish to not be a burden to your home. You see I… I do not have much to offer your city.” You hung your head in shame hoping you did not fully insult Elrond. He had already been so kind to you.

“A burden?” He shook his head walking over to the two of you. All eyes still watching the interaction with the utmost curiosity, “You would hardly be a burden. I will be honest with you. With many of the elves planning to take to the sea I will need some help preparing. You will have a place here. Rest assured.”

A small sigh let out from your chest. Aragorn watched you intently with a bright smile on his face seeing the Elf relax your mind in mere moments. Leave it to Elrond to calm you down so easily. He needed to take a page or two from his book.

“Are you sure Lord Elrond?” You asked timidly to the much, much taller elf. Why’d they have to be so beautiful and intimidating at the same time?

He gave you a quick nod before turning, “I have already made up my mind child. Now let us go. The Fellowship has much planning to do before they are off in a few days.” He motioned for you to follow him.

You turned back to Aragorn before you left, “I wish you luck. I will see you soon. Be safe.” Taking a risk, you grabbed for his hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Anything for you my lady.” You caught the brief wink he had given you before bowing his head.

You walked over to the rest of the group, “I wish you all nothing but the best. Please take care of each other. I want to see you all when this is over. Yea?” Your voice broke at the end.

The Hobbits crowded around you giving you one last hug, “We will take your word to heart Lady Y/N.” Pippen smiled as he hugged your side.

“I am no lady.” You laughed once more. Where had they all gotten this ridiculous notion from?

“That’s not what Legolas told us.” Frodo smirked while looking over at Aragorn was deep in conversation with Boromir not paying a lick of attention to the goodbyes you were giving. It hurt him just as much as it was hurting you so he distracted himself with the other man in the Fellowship.

Your eyes found the blonde elf who attempted to feign innocence for the second time that afternoon, “You are a rightful menace Legolas.” You muttered to him almost finding enjoyment out of his butting in.

He shrugged innocently, “I am not sure what you are talking about Lady Y/N.”

You smiled shaking your head while giving each Hobbit a quick squeeze, “Good luck Legolas. Please watch out for him?” Your request may have been too much for the elf and you knew it. A big ask that you would have never of done had you not fallen for him so quickly.

But he agreed, “You have my word, my lady.” He smirked sensing your aversion to the formality you so desperately tried to avoid.

A quick shake of the head and you went off to follow Elrond you was waiting for you patiently in the distance, “I will see you all soon.” You waved, not waiting for their response as it felt to be too much in the moment. It amazed you

“Thank you for your hospitality Lord Elrond.” You said quickly once you caught up to the dark-haired elf.

He gave you what you was sure was a genuine smile, “It brings me a great pleasure to host you Lady Y/N.”

Your mouth gaped, “Is he forcing you to say that?” Surely you were going to have to get used to the title if Elrond had agreed to it. It would be shameful to try and correct the ruler of the land. Even you had some semblance of sanity and preservation.

Elrond shook his head quickly. He gave you a serious expression, one that you were not used to seeing from elf, “Aragorn is the rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor. We recognize the title here in Rivendell. I respect what he wishes. If he has given you that title you should wear that as a badge of honor.”

“You think so?” You thought you might have been pressing your luck with the lord. But he had the patience of somebody you had never met before. He was like no human you knew even if he was half of it.

If he was offended at your questioning he hid it well. A small smile adorned his features as he led you down the path to an empty room in the castle he had placed you in earlier, “I know so. When you have been around as long as I. You tend to notice these small things.”

He stopped in front of a door you had not been privy too in your prior explorations, “Your quarters for the time being. I had Nimloth move your belongings from your previous room to here. I suspect you will find it adequate.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when he opened the massive wood doors. The most intricate carvings of wood was placated on every surface of the room. The detail and craftsmanship was beyond anything you had seen in your tiny little village. You ran your fingers along the different sets of furniture admiring the fine detail that was crafted into every surface, “More than adequate Lord Elrond. Thank Nimloth for me?” You asked after finding all your belongings neatly put away.

He bowed to you. An elf bowed to you! What had this life become? Once so lost now you were somebody a lord found pleasure in conversing with.

“I will see to it. She will fetch you for dinner as well. Welcome to Rivendell.” Without waiting for a response, he shut the doors behind him letting you be with your thoughts. And oh, were they racing beyond your wildest measure.

It had been 414 days since Aragorn and the Fellowship had set out to destroy the ring. You refused to give up any sort of hope as you heard bits and pieces of information from Lord Elrond. You had grown close to elf in your stay at Rivendell. He had given you sage life advice time and time again. You were there for him when Arwen and his sons went off to sea not to be seen again until he were to take his trip. You knew he was utterly lonely and wanting nothing more than to go be with his wife and children. But he had a duty to middle earth that he would see too. He would see that the age of man had a true leader in Aragorn to guide peace and prosperity forward. He knew the age of elf was done and good. Frodo just had to finish it by destroying the ring.

You were sitting in the study reading a text in Sindarin, Lord Elrond had taught you enough of the language to get by, when you heard the doors to the study open with a loud thud. You set the text down on the desk as you peaked your head towards the door.

“Lady Y/N?” Lord Elrond’s voice called out.

You stood from your chair, “Yes my lord?” You caught him smiling ear to ear at the front of the study. A giddy feeling of shock shot throughout your body in anticipation for what might come next.

“They are back.”

You felt like your heart might have actually stopped beating there for a second, “Aragorn?” You asked breathlessly.

“Alive and well. Come.” He motioned you to follow him just like he had all those days ago when you first got to Rivendell.

When you spotted him out in the courtyard you did not give a second thought about being a lady anymore. You all out sprinted to the man who had consumed you whole in his time away. He wrapped you in his arms once you ran right into his chest. Letting out a small grunt from the impact he started laughing. A full-on belly laugh rang out from the man as he held you in his arms once more.

“You came back.” You felt the tears forming in your eyes as you buried yourself in his chest.

He held you in his arms as tightly as he could relishing in the moment of just being there with you, “I gave you my word, my lady. Did I not?” He pulled you back so he could look at you. Ethereal. Rivendell had been nothing but good to you he concluded. He would have to thank Lord Elrond for being so hospitable towards the one he had loved.

“You did. Thank you.” You grasped him a little tighter as he clinged onto you just the same.

You gasped opening the letter from the Shire, “Sam and Rose!” You ran over to Aragorn with a gleeful smile on your face, “Look, they are to be wed in six months! Long after you are crowned King. I would like to go.”

“Ahh, finally.” Aragorn grabbed the letter from your hand with a smile on his face. You admired him as he read the joyous news of the union. He was so handsome. And he was soon to be crowned King of Gondor, Gandalf had shared with the group the night they came back. He was due to be crowned in two months’ time in Minas Tirith. It gave time for all parties to travel to the desired destination to see the rightful heir be crowned king.

“I was worried he would never go for it. We shall go if you will have me?” Aragorn noted as he smoothed out the robes for tomorrow’s crowning. He had felt more nervous of the thought of proposing to you than he was about being crowned King. Valar calm his nerves.

“Aye. I would love to go with you Aragorn. But is that so? Had he been shy about her?” You asked your love that you were almost afraid to admit to.

He nodded recalling all the time Samwise made comments about the Hobbit he had loved from afar, “He was never the most risk adverse. I think the journey changed him.”

“Yea.” You nodded, “It was good for him.”

He nodded his head. His soft expression hardening just a tinge as he took you in, “You are so beautiful. When I did not think that I was going to make it… the thought of you kept me going. I am so honored to have you by my side.”

You leaned your head back into his chest letting the sun beat down on the two of you as he had helped you prepare for the journey to his rightful home. He had been to Minas Tirith many times before, but never as the King. He was overjoyed at the thought of bringing you to his home. He was not lying before when he promise to make you his lady. He was planning to wed to you not too long after he was crowned King.

“It is my honor Aragorn.” You felt him squeeze his hand along your waist.

He had taken you to his new home by horse. Just the two of you heading to his Kingdom. He wanted to spend the time with you and get to know you. And he was more than glad he did. He did not think it to be possible, but he had fallen more deeply in love with you on the month-long trek to Gondor. It had solidified what he had planned to do, propose to you as soon as he was crowned King. He had gotten Lord Elrond in on the plan as well. Surely, you would be more than irritated at the public display, but he knew you would soon get over it.

Your eyes lit up in amazement at the city that had spring up before you once you had finally made it after a little over a month on the road. It was more massive than even Rivendell had been. You had no idea such structures existed within the human world and was slightly ashamed you knew so little about your very own brethren.

“Welcome to Minas Tirith my lady.” A breathy whisper in your ear he watched below as you took in the city.

“This is… incredible Aragon.” Your eyes traveled everywhere in awe as he rode up the main street on his horse. You were pleasantly surprised at all the greetings even you were getting from all the citizens that resided within the city.

He led you straight to the castle at the center of the city knowing you were probably more than overwhelmed. Sure, he had warned you but actually seeing it and doing it was entirely different thing. He bowed to his guards as he made his way to his, and soon to be your, chambers.

“You will sleep here tonight.” He said matter of factly as you explored his chambers.

You shook your head, “I cannot. This is your room. You need to rest before tomorrow! You are being crowned King. That does not happen every day Aragorn.” You protested but he simply shook his head.

“It is all right.” He led you to his bed, “I insist my lady. I have made up my mind and you will not be able to change it.” He grinned beautifully as you sat down on the bed, accepting defeat so easily.

“So stubborn you are.” You mused at him with a delighted look on your face. It felt like a step was being taken as he insisted you stay in his quarters. Protected by the best of the best. He saw you as nothing but precious to him.

He chucked softly, “I must leave you to it. Feel free to explore. One of the guards can show you around if you would like. I must see to a few things before tomorrow. I will see you after the ceremony?” He asked watching you carefully. He wanted you to be comfortable before he left you. He knew it would be tough to go a night without each other after spending so much alone for the better part of a month.

“All right.” You nodded quickly, “I will see you tomorrow, my King.” You grinned right back at him knowing you would never tire of calling him that. It was a far cry from the Strider you had met so long ago now.

He brushed his hand along your jaw. Giving you a brief bow, he spoke once more, “My lady.” Before walking out his chambers and leaving you too it. A wave of exhaustion coupled by the softness of the mattress below you sent you into a slumber much sooner than you were expecting. Maybe you would get the grand tour another time. For now, sleep overtook you..

You watched in awe as Gandalf crowned Aragorn with amazement in his own eyes. You had truly never seen anything so grandeur in your life. All this for your Aragorn. Yet, you felt he had deserved this and so much more.

“Now come the days of the King.” Gandalf’s voice boomed throughout Minas Tirith as thousands stood to watch Aragorn be crowned. You felt your eyes well up with proud tears as the crown laid atop his head. He was so striking. So Kingly. Your breath was taken away as he turned to the crowd. He was your King.

“This day does not belong to one man… but to all.” His voice now boomed filling your chest with the utmost pride for the man you loved, “Let us together rebuild this world… that we may share in the days of peace.” He smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers for their newly crowned King. You joined in happily clapping and cheering along with the city folk.

He sang as the flower petals began to fall. You watched as his company and all those around him bowed to him as he walked amongst the crowd. Your heart sped up rapidly as he was moving along closer, and closer to you.

Elrond pulled you back behind a shield at your protest as Legolas stepped forward. Being none the wiser you shot your elder a precarious look as he told you to be quiet and wait a second and you would see what was going on. He did not lie to you. Lord Elrond never did.

The elf beside you pulled the shield away leaving you staring right into the icy blue eyes of the man you had loved so dearly. You gulped but stepped towards him. He looked just as entranced as you felt.

Feeling overwhelmed at the entirely of the situation you bowed your head to your King once you were mere inches in front of him. Never before had so many eyes been on you. Yet he had made it feel like it really was just the two of you at that moment.

He would have none of that though. He took his hand under your chin and pulled it up, so you were looking at him. He too forgot that thousands of people were watching. It felt like it was just you and him. You had that effect on him. Your doe eyes staring up at him so desperately is what did him in. He could simply wait no longer to have what he wanted… you.

When you smiled at him he did not care any longer. He went straight in for the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him as he spun you around, happier than ever before. He had let his intentions be known. You were his for forever, his forever.

You would be embarrassed later but now it was just you and him. A giggle erupted from you as you hugged him once more. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along as he went to search for the Hobbits.

You took a knee after Aragorn spoke, “My friends… you bow to no one.” A smile erupted on your face as you watched the kingdom take a knee for them. Frodo’s face told the story. Aragorn gently wiped off the tears that were streaming down your face.

“I love you, my Queen.” He whispered in your ear.

“Your Queen?” You gasped looking up to him. Surely you did not think you would take

“Are we to be wed no?” He asked curiously.

“Aye.” You nodded, “I just did not believe to have such a title.” You looked away from him as he directed everyone to stand once more.

“I am King. You are to be my Queen.” He said so matter of factly you could not believe you were questioning yourself.

“As you wish.” You smiled so gleefully not truly believing this was actually your life now.

He leaned in for one more gentle kiss to please the crowd, “My Queen.” He whispered letting you know he had every good intention in the world with you. For the first time in his already long life, he could not wait to get his life started with you.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

Text

The Taste of Temptation {3} || DR3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Summary: Pierre enjoys winding Danny up with rumours, and Danny enjoys his recompense with your body. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, age gap (13 years) reader is 20, smut, smut, alcohol, smut, ass play, dom!daniel, bond*ge, overstimulation WC: 3.7k F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round Fourteen - Netherlands You had been minding your own business, enjoying a cool glass of fruit juice to combat the rising temperature of the day. The Red Bull motorhome was unusually quiet as you sat down at an empty table, so much so that you didn’t even notice the hush that fell over the few members of staff that were around setting up for the week ahead.

Something hit your neck and a sudden roar almost deafened your ear as the shock turned to a flash of pain. You jolted out of your seat, tipping it over, and clutched the burning skin below your ear as you saw a dark blue shirt disappear out the door, the number 10 printed on his back.

“What the hell was that?” you asked as you used your phone as a mirror. “What the fuck! GASLYYY!!!!!”

A deep purple circle was growing on your skin where he had pressed the end of a hoover against it, the bright red vacuum now discarded on the floor in the culprits rush to get away. The powerful suction had instantly brought your blood to the surface and it looked like a huge hickey, and Daniel was just walking in.

You slapped your hand over the mark and saw the team members of his that were still around stifle their laughs.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with a grin.

“Pierre just gave her a hickey,” Calum, a friendly technician, managed to admit as he pointed to your hand. “Then he boosted it out of here, never seen an Alpine go so fast.”

Daniel didn’t laugh along with the rest as his fingers curled around your wrist and pulled your hand away. His eyes narrowed at the offensive mark before darting to the vacuum still running on the floor behind your chair. The stupid smile and big, round eyes on the plastic shell only seemed to grow more mocking the longer he looked at it.

“It was just a silly joke,” you said softly.

“Very funny.” He forced a smile but his eyes kept flickering back to your neck and you shivered as he ran his tongue along his teeth and leaned closer so no one could overhear his promise. “But only I get to mark you, kitten.”

Daniel got his recompense when you returned to the hotel mid afternoon. There was a few hours of down time before there was a small get together planned, nothing too crazy since media day started in the morning and no one wanted to be hungover for that.

“Shhh, kitten, the walls aren’t that thick.”

With the curtains drawn it was impossible to tell how long had passed, how long it had been since Danny tied your wrists to your ankles and subjected you to such immense pleasure you couldn’t remember your name.

His fingers were cool against your hot skin as he brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead before they softly tweaked your nipple piercing and another gasp slipped past the strap of leather you were biting.

The rave music filling the room was set to overwhelm yet another of your senses but it couldn’t hide the sounds you were making and it was a wonder that all of the Netherlands didn’t know what he was doing to you. You didn’t even know what he was doing to you, there was only one orgasm rolling into the next as your tears wet the pillow beneath your head.

Toys littered the bed and Danny had taken his time to enjoy ruining you with them all.

Your ass throbbed around the metal plug he had worked you up to taking, his words of courage helping you to push through the gasping breaths you filled your lungs with as he stretched you to the limit. The cry of relief that had erupted when the plug slid home, and the sight of your hole clenching around the narrow handle, had been enough for him to come again and the warm ropes of his release had splayed across your breasts.

If you could move you would have run your fingers through it, gathering the viscous mess so you could taste it on your tongue. That was where he had finished earlier and where he would possibly finish again, because before you knew it he was hard again.

“Please,” you whimpered as he pressed a bullet to your clit, the vibrations making more tears stream down your cheeks as intense tremors rocked your entire body and your ankles screamed for mercy. “I need to come.”

“Soon, kitten.”

Daniel shifted to lay between your spread legs, his breath hot on your cunt as he tasted the essence dripping from your swollen lips. His fingers soon replaced his tongue and the lewd sounds of them pumping in and out of you only added to the overwhelming experience.

Two fingers, then three. Each snap of his wrist buried them deeper and each time he brushed against the butt plug and pushed it further. Stars danced across your vision and you couldn’t hold back any longer as your pussy spasmed around his fingers before they were gone and his tongue lapped at his reward as it escaped your folds.

“I didn’t say you could-”

Your body fell slack against the restraints as you lost all ability to think, see or hear and you floated away on the high.

When you came back to your senses you were tucked under the blankets with Daniel’s body curled behind you, his arm draped over your waist. His beard tickled your shoulder and he pressed a soft kiss upon it when he felt you wake. Every part of you ached in a way that could never actually hurt and you sighed with contentment as you rolled over to face your boyfriend.

“How long was I out?”

“About half an hour,” he said with a proud little smile as he pulled your leg over his hip as you felt his hard length teasing along your entrance. “I think that’s a new record.”

Your body felt empty without the toys and you looked around to see them neatly lined up on a towel drying. As messy as Daniel liked to get, he also liked to clean up after and you could feel your skin was no longer slick with sweat or sticky with his release that had painted your skin. He had taken care of it all after you had passed out.

“How bad is it?” you asked when you caught his fixated stare on your neck but he grabbed your hand when you reached up to touch the tender area.

“Don’t hide it, kitten. You can cover up Gasly’s but not mine.”

You rolled your hips and smirked when his lips parted with a deep breath as his sensitive head started to slip inside you, just an inch. “You are so petty.”

“You’re mine and I have to mark my territory,” he said before snapping his hips forward and stealing your breath as he bit your bottom lip. “It’s just biology, baby.”

“Have you been watching the Discovery Channel again?” you teased as your eyes fluttered shut.

Daniel laughed as rolled you to your back and tugged your other leg over his hip too before pinning your hands to the headboard. “There’s something satisfying about seeing a hunter subdue his prey.” His head dipped to yours and a shiver spread goosebumps across your skin when he grazed his teeth over your racing pulse. “Seeing how vulnerable she is up against such a beast.”

You arched your back and pushed your breasts up, silently begging him to trail his lips further down to them. He was gentle this time, swirling his tongue over the sensitive peaks knowing they would be tender. Everywhere was tender so he was taking his time with you, enjoying the long, slow strokes that made you feel every single inch of his cock as it filled you.

“She’s only vulnerable to him,” you moaned as you dragged your fingers through his hair and tugged the damp strands.

Daniel’s honey brown eyes said far more than his lips did as they curled up into a soft smile that made your stomach flip. “A lion and a kitten.”

He released your hands so he could run his own down your arm and over your collarbone to cup your cheek, the calluses on his palms tickling your skin along the way. His hand was so large it cradled your entire jaw and his thumb stroked your kiss-swollen lips before he took them for his own.

There was never a fight for dominance with him, your lips just parted as if he were the elixir of life and you were dying of thirst. He was intoxicating and addictive, unlike anyone you had been with before and he completely consumed your consciousness, filling every waking thought before infiltrating your dreams too.

You lost all sense of self with him, yet he had helped you explore your body and find so much more. And you also had lessons to teach him.

“Lions don’t actually hunt,” you murmured as you lay your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat thumping rhythmically in your ear. “It’s the females that do the hunting. The male is just there to fuck.”

Your muscled pillow bounced as he laughed, his fingers along your spine pausing their relaxing dance. “I like that even better. What can you tell me about the honey badger?”

You pushed up onto your elbow, resting your chin on your hand so he could see the amusement on your face. “The honey badger is a cheeky creature who is very territorial and gets quite jealous over little things.”

“Is that right?” he dared you to continue with the lifting of one eyebrow and a smirk on his lips.

“Mhmm, but don’t let the cuteness fool you, there’s a fighting spirit beneath all that fur,” you teased, running your fingers through the dark triangle of curls that grew over his sternum. “And six nipples. Oh, did you think I was talking about you?”

His smirk broke into a bright smile that reached his sparkling eyes as his laugh filled the room. “You never know, I might have six nipples and just be very good at hiding them.”

You snorted a laugh and buried your face into the crook of his neck, squeezing your arms around his waist. “No, you would happily parade them about if you had that many.”

Danny placed a soft kiss atop your head before resting his cheek upon it with a happy sigh. “You know me so well.”

“Hey Nips,” Pierre greeted with a grin as he bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently. “You haven’t blocked me on Insta have you?”

“I will if you keep calling me Nips,” you warned as you pulled your phone out of your clutch and checked the app you had muted the notifications for and groaned. “Seriously?”

The Frenchman's laugh was insufferable as you saw what he had uploaded while Daniel returned to your side after chatting with Valterri, never straying too far away from you. The video wasn’t great quality considering Pierre had been running full pelt through the paddock with a vacuum plugged into a massive extension lead but you could still make out the path to Red Bull’s hospitality.

You saw yourself sitting at a table sipping your juice in peace before he flicked the vacuum on and a look of shock fell over your face when it sucked your neck into the nozzle. Unable to resist now that he had more than made up for it, Daniel chuckled in your ear at the video and you jutted your elbow back to check him in the ribs.

The next picture he posted made you roll your eyes before you saw an opportunity and sent a reply before locking the phone and slipping it back into your clutch as Daniel’s laugh grew even louder. “There’s those claws, kitty.”

You regretted opening the app as you were still thinking about the other notifications you had seen and they left you distracted. It wasn’t anything new and they weren’t often malicious but the rumours were just irritating. Every single post you were tagged in by one of the drivers inevitably led to people thinking you were dating them.

It was only Pierre who did it on purpose for his own amusement, knowing how possessive Daniel was towards you. It was like he just wanted to push his buttons and see how long it took for him to snap and make the relationship public. There had been talks of it, after collapsing into bed, high off an orgasm, but then nothing happened.

The rumours were still playing on your mind when the group moved to the large round table and you saw the name on the seating chart next to yours.

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Danny asked as he sat to your left, his hand disappearing under the table to slide up the slit of your dress to your thigh, his thumb drawing soothing circles over the bare skin.

“Nothing, I’m just a little tired.” You weren’t lying completely, you could have done with a lot more sleep after what he put you through.

“Have you been boring Nips, mate?” Pierre asked as he dropped into the chair beside you, likely having paid off a waitress to have his name card put on your table. A smarmy smile played at his lips and he trailed a finger around the rim of his glass, the crystal humming quietly, as his other arm draped over the back of your chair. “You weren’t bored in Paris with me, were you?”

Danny’s fingers tightened around your thigh and you fought back the gasp as his nails dug half-moons into your skin. “Do you want to tell him why you’re tired or should we let him use his imagination?”

You hid your laugh behind your hand and Pierre’s interest only grew as he leaned closer. “I don’t think he is creative enough to imagine everything we did. Maybe I’ll tell Kika and she can surprise him.”

A dopey smile crossed his face at the mention of his girlfriend before a camera flashed and he sat back in his seat with a huff of annoyance at the photographer. “I thought they weren’t allowed at these things.”

You shrugged and accepted the glass of wine Danny took from a passing waitress. “Netflix wants a taste of everything this year, all the behind the scenes shots. Just be grateful you don’t have to wear microphones.”

“I dunno, could be entertaining as hell,” Daniel chuckled as he teased his fingers along the edge of your panties. “But they would have to censor 99% of what happens outside of the paddock. For us at least.”

“We get it, you guys have sex,” Lando said with a roll of his eyes as he arrived late and dropped into the seat beside Daniel, Carlos on the other side of him. “Sup, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing much. Pierre got schooled on Insta, and we are going public,” Daniel casually stated, your head whipping around towards him as he shrugged with a smile. “What? It was bothering you and it’ll shut him up too.”

Instead of looking annoyed that his fun was coming to an end, Pierre laughed and let his arm slip off your chair. “About time. Pay up, Norris.”

Lando groaned and fished his wallet out his pocket, his fingers flicking through the cash before taking it all. “You couldn’t have waited one more week? I’m a bit light. Can I get you the rest tomorrow?”

You curled an eyebrow as the money exchanged hands in front of you and you reached out, taking one of the €100 notes from Pierre. “My cut for using my relationship for your gains.”

“Well, if I’m losing five grand on this I want to see the evidence,” Lando said as he started unfolding and refolding the swan-shaped napkin in front of him. “Or I’ll have it back, thanks, with interest.”

“You’re not getting this back,” you stated as you shoved the cash into your bra before fetching your phone from the table. “My employers are cheap bastards.”

Pierre laughed with a shake of his head, knowing you had one of Danny’s credit cards and that he would never let you spend a cent of your own money while you were with him. It was the same amongst all the drivers, they spoiled their partners and enjoyed providing everything one could want or need. They didn’t see it as being ‘used’.

“There,” you grinned as Daniel’s phone beeped with a notification you had posted on Instagram. “The not-so-secret secret is out.”

“Let the chaos begin.”

Daniel’s hand disappeared from your thigh and you instantly missed the warmth before he reached for your nape. His fingers tightened their grip as he drew you closer and your breath hitched as you saw the possessive glint in his eyes before he crushed his lips to yours. The room was forgotten as he took all your focus and your phone fell to your lap so you could grab the lapels of his collar and deepen the kiss.

Ten seconds or ten minutes could have passed by the time you parted breathlessly and as your eyes fluttered open they were blinded by the flashed of the cameras aimed your way. Daniel smirked and pulled the finger at them, causing another bright burst of flashes. “Fuck ‘em all.”

“People will talk.”

Your tongue wet your lips before you dared him. “Let them.”

His eyes drifted down your body before he dragged them slowly back up. “They’ll say you’re too young.”

“Age is just a number.” You used his own words against him, the words that had lingered in your mind since he had said them to you the first day you met.

“They’ll say you only got your job because of me.”

A small giggle bubbled up as your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll show them my degree.”

“You have all the answers, don’t you, kitten?” he smirked.

“No, there’s still one I’m waiting on...”

The moment hung suspended in the air as his brown eyes searched your face for the answer and he swore under his breath. “Fuck ‘em all. You’re mine.”

Daniel’s teeth nipped at your earlobe and you inhaled sharply at the bolt of lightning that struck your core, tightening your stomach as it flipped in response. “You’re mine, kitten, all mine.”

You couldn’t even form a response as your back pressed against the wall and he pinned you there with his hips. The denim he wore did little to hide the hard length that he ground against your core and you trembled with anticipation.

“Please, Danny,” you begged unabashedly. You had fantasised over this moment since you had met him but nothing could prepare you for the reality. Your eyes screwed shut as his zip brushed over your clit and your lips parted at the sensitive touch, a keening whine slipping from them, “Pleeease.”

Your arms tightened around his neck as he stepped away from the wall and carried you to the bed, swiping the half empty wine bottle as he passed the coffee table. The mattress rushed up to meet you and he smirked down at you as he used his knee to spread your legs wider.

“This isn’t champagne but we’ll make it work.” His fingers curled around the bottleneck and his thumb covered the hole so he could control the flow as he started to pour it over you. You jolted at the difference in temperature and the red potation started to snake across your skin with each small movement you made.

“It’s going to stain the bedding,” you whispered as you tried to hold your breath so it didn’t displace even more.

“Wine will be the least of their worries,” he teased as he dipped his head down and lashed his tongue across your stomach, dipping it into your belly button where the wine had pooled until he had licked it clean. Your stomach clenched when he rolled his eyes up your body to look at you and you swore you almost came from that image alone.

You were heady as he made his way up your body, trailing a dribble of wine between the valley of your breasts before chasing it with his tongue. His thumb traced your lips, parting them as he tipped the bottle up to fill your mouth until it overflowed. The bottle was carelessly discarded and a large hand caught your chin, tipping it back before he sealed his mouth over yours and shared the flavour of the wine on your tongue.

You silenced your phone from the incessant notifications that hadn’t stopped all evening and tossed it onto the coffee table. Dropping onto the sofa in the quiet hotel, you swirled the topped up red wine around your glass mindlessly and wondered what you had gotten yourself into.

“It’ll die down, as soon as something new comes along.” Daniel fell into the space beside you and took the wine stem from your hands, sipping it before placing it on the table and pulling you onto his lap. His hair was still damp from the shower he had just had and every few seconds a droplet would break free from the strands and run down his neck. “You’re not regretting it, are you?”

There was a touch of vulnerability in his tone that he tried to hide with a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. You cupped his face and brushed your thumbs over the creases that were deeper when he truly smiled and shook your head. “A little apprehensive of what’s to come,” you admitted with a whisper. “But I’m proud to be yours, you make me happy.”

“That’s all that matters to me.” He guided your head to his shoulder and you relaxed as your body moulded to fit against him perfectly. This was your safe place and your soul recognised that as the late hour instantly caught up with you. A tired yawn clicked the joint of your jaw and your eyes grew heavy as you nuzzled your face closer to his neck. “And what do we say if someone has a problem?”

“Fuck them,” your murmured sleepily, making his shoulders bounce with a silent laugh.

“That’s right, kitten,” he whispered across your skin as his lips rested on your forehead. “Fuck ‘em all.”

Click here for part four.

Tagging: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @zendayabelova @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #daniel ricciardo

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blackbirdvvriting · 1 month ago

Text

Multiverse

tfaws!bucky x f!reader

word count: 1,7k

warnings: overdose of fluff, bit of +18, sad and soft

context: you and Bucky had been in a relationship for quite a while now, 7 months, you always laugh together since you have the almost exact sense of humor, you have deep conversations with each other on those night when sleep just didn't wanna do it's job and the past filled that space, and those moments showed how much you cared about each other, that you were crazy about each other, so you decided to move in together and, on one special night, in the comfort of your home, it hit you.

The navy blue blinds were shut, all the lights, except for the lamp on the nightstand, were off. The night was at its peak, no cars or ambulances sounds, no people's voices filling the crowed streets. Just the moonlight, some frogs or criquets and, of course, you two. A 106 year old supersoldier and his girlfriend laying in bed naked, a perfect night to end the caotic day you and Bucky had.

It all started at breakfast, you had been up until late because the nightmares were hunting you this time and he, knowing how hard it can be to "just go back to sleep" after seeing the most traumatic images in your brain when you were supposed to rest, was determined to be by your side with a cup of tea or his relaxing voice reading to you until you felt better sleepy enough.

After all of that a good cup of coffee was primordial for both of you, but your coffe machine had another plans and decided to broke. Bucky was sure that he could fix it, but he couldn't, and that cost you and him your having-breakfast-and-getting-dress-for-work time, so you had to get ready in five minutes and run to the nearest coffee shop on the way. And not to your suprise, you both were very very late for work.

You worked at a beautiful little comic shop a few blocks away, by the time you got there you realised, in all that rush of getting dress at light speed, you forgot the keys to open the shop at your home and it was already 9:56AM. The store opened at 8AM.

Bucky was late for a mission too and that didn't help his already everyday grumpy attitude. Even less having a little conversation with Sam about responsability and blah blah blah.

Eventually your coworker knew of a hidden key your boss put in sone of the flower pots beneath the window and your day went fine. But Bucky... well he was counting the seconds to be back at home with you in his arms listening to some of those 50s songs that you both love as backround noise.

And that's how we ended up in the begining.

He was laying in bed with your head on his naked chest, a thin glowy layer of sweet still dressing your body from your previous loving activities.—God, I waited all day just for this moment— he said softly, hia voice almost not even a sound while his cold fingers ran through your hair.

You turned your head to look at him, but your hands were on his chest now, and your chin resting on them. To Bucky the sight was heaven. Every fight, every scratch, every arguement, every mission was worth it if it only meant that he was gonna end up tangled up in the bed sheets, the couch or the kitchen counter with you.—¿We can say that t'day was definitely a day to forget right?— he closed his eyes and let a tiny laughed escape him at the same time your own louder laugh filled the bedroom.

—Nah...—he just looked at the celing with a smirk on his face—¿Y'wanna know why?—his intense eyes were now on you, but his look was always soft for you.

You were curious about what was inside his smartass head this time, so you asked.—Yeah, tell me—your inocent eyes looking at him from bellow, chin still in his chest.

His vibranium hand made its way back at your hair brushing a strand out of his sight of your "perfect face" as he did always call it.

—Cuz' I get to be here, like this, with you, at the end of every day—a smirk laying on his face while looking at you.

You just rolled your eyes and leaned to kiss him. You adore this moment when the softness in him comes to light only for you.—Ok mister romantic—you joke just to hear his little laugh again.

—I do wait for this kind of moments everyday too—you brush a his hair back to then lay your right palm on his cheek, yoyr finger strikung the skind under them. That makes him smile, which then makes you smile even more.

—Fuck... I'm so down bad for you, doll—he manages to say between your laughs of how obvious is the love in your eyes when you look at each other. But that pure love stays only in your eyes, it hasn't come down to your mouths yet.

—¿You think you're the only one here? Have you seen yourself in a mirror?—you joke to make him laugh again, you really love to make him smike and hear hus laughter. But what you love even more is knowing that you sre the one to make that happen.

The blood rushes to Bucky's cheeks betraying his cold-grumpy-guy vibe he wants to give and he doesn't respond anything. So of course you keep with the compliments to your beautiful superboyfriend.—¡You're literally PERFECT!—

—Your hands are the perfect size and temperture, one warm and soft like a pillow I always want to put my face in, and the other one cool but so hot at the same time—that took another laugh from him and more blood rushed to his cheeks.—and unique and soft also. Your arms too and they are the ones that hold me on the nights I'm too cold, or too afraid. Your chest is where I can always lay my head on and have the most exquisite sleep of my life, is the place that reminds me that comfort does exist for me. And don't even get me started on your face, Mr.—you were saying all that to him in a half joking half serious way, joking was you way to affront serious moments in your life after all. But you meant every single word you said. And you hoped he knew that too.

—Oh no, after all that I wanna hear what you gotta say 'bout m'face now, don't leave me hangin'— he said putting preasure and your waist with his left hand, sending shivers down your spine, and making you whole body's hairs go up.

—Where do I start— he swore no one ever saw him they way that you did in that moment. Your pupils were blown wide, your big eyes shining so much it was nearly cartoonish, and the emotion behind them was not foreign to him at all.—Your lips... they're just si perfect—your head gsve uo on his collarbone at the mare sight if them—They're this perfect shade of pink that only dolls have. They're not too thin, or too big, they're just right to fit mine. And oh my god the softness, is intoxicating! Addictive!— your eyes finally met his again.—And your eyes...—

For a brief moment you just looked at each other. So ardenly mesmerized by the other, by all those feeling burning deep in your hearts, knocking the walls of your chest so desperate to get out after so long being kept by the fear of rejection.

—Your eyes are the most ethereal things I have ever seen and that have ever see me. I feel so lucky everytime you look at me. They're so big, and so innocent and delicate and they añways have this little sparkles all the time ¡to the point that I'm convinced the multiverse exists just by looking at them because it seems like an entire galaxy is each one!— and you landed that last part like a joke, but you were dead serious, and he was speechless.

—¿Y-you mean all that, doll?—his voice was like a broken whisper. And the eyes you talked about so much now were even brigther thanks to the tears starting to from in them, but behind all that was hidden hope.

Hope that he still was worthy of such caring and affection. Hope that you meant all that because you were capaple of seeing him and like what you see. Hope that he wasn't alone anymore. Hope that maybe you felt it too.

—¡Of course I do, honey! Everything I said I mean it with all my heart, sweetie—now your eyes were watery too and your hands shaked while holding his face in them as your thumbs soothe the skin of his cheeks, but still, you tried to ground him, to make him believe that this could be real for him.

—¿Y-you really feel a-all that about me-e, mhm?—his hands were on yours trying to calm you down and him a bit too.

—I feel all that about you and more, Buck. I-—you couldn't say it. You were too afraid.

—Shit, Buck, I- oh my god- I. I just- I- I love you so much, James. I love you. There, I love you, that's the truth. I don't have anyth-—but you couldnt finish your sentence before he grabed you and hug like never before.

His head was buried deep in your neck, that's how you could tell he was crying. Then you felt his kissed while you still hugged him so thight with one hand and the other brushing his hair as a way of comforting him.

His tears started to mixed in the kisses he pressed from the root of your neck, to the middle and when he got to the part behind your ear, he stayed there a bit. No more rush in his actions, just the silence of the night, your heavy breaths and for loud hearts beating fast for love.

He then stopped, slowly got away from your neck, but he still didn't looked at you. You didn't rushed him either.

—I love you too— his voice was raspy from the crying, but it sounded so delicate and so firm at the same time.

You cried a laugh and this time you jumoed to hug him and hide your fsce in his neck. His always were faster than a thunder cathing you and caging you so you stayed with him. But that wasn't necessary because, from the moment you met him you knew he was gonna be the one.

—Wow that was very-, I feel like I'm a romantic movie—you joked to lift the mood.

—Oh my god, doll—Bucky hid his fsce in your neck again.

—Aww. Ok~ I'm sorry. I ruined the moment, right?—you didn't hear him but you felt his head nodding in your neck making you laugh.

Oh my god I had so much fun writing this!!!!! I really hope you liked it because I tried my best with this being the first thing I write in a while and my first time writing in english too! Love you all and see ya on the next ;)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #one shot #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky one shot #x reader #f!reader #fluff #marvel fanfic #thunderbolts

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sociopathicartist · 3 months ago

Note

NEED SOME MORE NIGHTMARE CRUBS, I AM EATING YOUR WRITING UPPP

here you go :)

PART 5 OF THE SERIES APRICITY

TW: MENTIONS OF TORTURE / ABUSE

Obfuscate - To throw into shadow, to darken, to create unsurity.

If someone asked Nightmare when he began to like you, he would laugh in their face.

Him? Like anyone? No.

It wasn’t just that he was self-absorbed and conceded, but he emotionally could not love people. He was made of negativity- evil. It consumed his being and made him crazy. Loving someone was impossible, and liking someone was extremely difficult for him when he sought out the flaws in everyone except himself. You were no exception.

He was merely… Amused by you. You despised him, and honestly? It pissed him off. But he was also intrigued by your confidence and persistent denial of him despite the fact that it didn’t benefit you in any way possible.

If you ran, he could cut off your legs.

If you talked back to him, he could rip out your vocal cords.

And you weren’t stupid, you knew how strong he was and that he could not only strip away any freedom you had- but kill you at any given moment.

But yet, you disobeyed his rules. You were clearly testing your limits on what you could get away with, and he had half a mind to smack you across your pretty face for being so difficult with him- but he was just so….

So…

…

Amused.

How could he not be? He was giving you a luxurious room, delicious meals, and comfortable clothes- you had your every whim tended to while you were in the castle. Anything you asked for you would receive.

And yet, the only thing you asked for was for him to let you go.

Weirdly enough, your refusal to give in to him and accept your life now reminded him of himself whenever he was just a child.

Stubborn. Arrogant. Looking up at the night sky and wondering if this is all that the world has to offer you. If being bullied, mistreated, and stuck was all you would know.

Fortunately, that was not his life anymore. It hadn’t been for five hundred and six years. But he had a good hunch that it was becoming yours.

It was almost like he was watching a rat in a maze. He was so intrigued by what you would try to do next in an attempt to set him off, and it was hilarious to see you try to make friends with the three idiots working for him. They were psychotic murderers who wouldn’t be entranced by your kindness. They’d murdered families, innocent people, and children, whose to say you weren’t next?

Not that he would let them kill you. He wanted you to break first. He wanted to see as you became apathetic and cruel when you realized that no matter how hard you tried- you would never escape. He could already see you beginning to lose yourself, it was apparent just by looking at your disheveled state, and god did it make him feel good.

He had taken you from his brother, removed you from the comfort of your home, and stripped your freedom right from your hands. Since you had absorbed his magic after he stabbed you upon your first meeting, his negativity didn’t affect you as it did most people who could feel. Every negative emotion that came from you was genuine and untainted, and that made you so much more fun to toy with.

So… he just couldn’t grasp why every time you looked at him seeking comfort, he felt… pity? He had grown to look at you almost like you were some pet of his that he could take care of.

Nightmare’s cruelty reminded him of how he was treated before he became corrupted, and it was baffling to him that you sought him out after everything he’s put you through. It didn’t make sense, and that was all the more of why he took fascination in studying you.

Nightmare had spent the past five hundred and six years curating his life. He’s built the luxurious castle he lived in, he had an outstanding staff, many allies up his sleeve- and not to dote- but extremely strong powers. There were no true multiversal gods, but he might as well be the next best thing. Anyone who denied those factors was just ignoring his potential, because, like it or not, Nightmare is all those things. The only real competition against him was the other guardian- Dream- and even then he still struggled to compete.

But despite being made of evil, Nightmare wasn’t all horrible. He didn’t like killing people, (it took away the energy he could milk out from torturing them), he wasn’t prone to lashing out or yelling very much, and he had some rather peaceful hobbies.

He didn’t know what you thought of him, but he had a pretty good idea.

For one, he saw your interest in him despite how much you tried to hate him. You had tried to picture him as some… thing, to de-personalize him. It was obvious to him how much you derealed him when he kept seeing the shock in your expression every time you found out about his hobbies or normal life. It was like it was incomprehensible for you to think about Nightmare doing things without it stemming from evil.

Yes, he liked to read. Yes, he was calm and composed unless provoked. Yes, he enjoyed small moments where he could be alone and listen to the rainfall. He had a personality, he was almost likable. He could see how frustrated that made you. You couldn’t de-personalize him no matter how hard you tried because, at the end of the day, he was still someone.

It was so fun to keep you teetering between hating him and loving him, he’d do something so horrible that it left you destroyed and speechless, and then he would win you over with your favorite flowers and the swear of a date as soon as the bruise on your neck healed.

Nightmare was convinced that you would keep him entertained until the day you died.

Just like he did once.

He hated reminders of his old life.

It was part of why he was a bit gentler with you. It made somewhere deep down in him feel like he was healing the part of him that died when you smiled despite how much he hated the positive energy. Not that you or anyone else would ever know that- he never shared anything personal about him with anyone.

He did, however, log down his personal feelings into a journal sometimes.

It wasn’t very often that he did so, maybe once or twice every century or so. He wasn’t too fond of the recreational hobby, but he did find that his isolation had consumed his thoughts, and since he didn’t like anyone enough to truly conversate with them, he journaled in a small, black-leathered book tucked away in the third drawer of the desk in his study.

There was this time when you caught him writing, now that he recalled it. Nightmare had been busy scouting the multiverse for a good AU to target and he hadn’t been at the castle for a few days. He came back at night, when everyone was supposed to be asleep in their quarters whether they were resting or not.

How long had it been since he’d logged down his thoughts?

The guardian sat down at his desk and flipped through his leather journal until he found a blank page with an old log next to it. He briefly checked the neatly printed date at the top right corner of the page, reading:

‘December 21st, 1732’.

Damn. His birthday two hundred and ninety-three years ago. Odd.

Nightmare wasn’t a sentimentalist, obviously, so he didn’t ponder on the date and he took out his favorite calligraphy pen and began to scribe down what was circulating through his mind.

Some details about the past two hundred and ninety-three years, some notes about the AU’s he’s discovered, some internal thoughts and questions he had. Writing once every few centuries led him to have a lot to say, so the pages filled up easily.

“Nightmare?”

He froze in his writing upon hearing your quiet voice call out for him. For the first time, you’d caught him off guard.

Nightmare didn’t even bother to look at you before he resumed his writing at a slower pace. “I didn’t give you permission to be in here.”

“I’m not in here.” You responded.

At that, Nightmare looked up from his book to spot you. Well, technically you weren’t in his study. You were standing just outside the entryway staring down at him quietly. There you go again, testing him.

“No, you’re not in here,” Nightmare remarked, capping his calligraphy pen and setting it down on his desk before he closed his book. “What do you want?”

You shrugged, fiddling with your thumbs out of habit. “I don’t know. Just to see you, I guess. You haven’t been around recently.”

To see him? You’ve sought him out before, but this was the first time you’ve openly admitted to wanting to see him. It seemed like the months in the castle had finally grown an urge for you to cling to the only constant person in your life.

Nightmare didn’t say anything at first, staring at you with an unreadable expression. If it was anyone else, he would have told them to leave and quit bothering him the moment they showed up.

But…

“Well, you can’t see me very well from so far away, can you, darling?” His words were an invitation for you to come inside his study, even if the nickname was said in a degrading manner.

You hesitated for a second before slowly stepping past the entryway and into the dimly lit room. Nightmare hated bright lights, so every room in the castle was dimly lit with ambient lamps or candles. It was aesthetically pleasing, really.

“I’ve been wondering where you went.” You spoke softly like he would get mad at you for saying anything, and you were beginning to inch over to stand in front of his desk. “You just vanished.”

Yes, the guardian of negativity did tend to do that. You were the only person who ever questioned it.

“I had some business to attend to.” Nightmare elaborated vaguely in a smooth and low tone. “I’ll be back out again by Tuesday and I will assign you to a new task.”

You didn’t say anything, and Nightmare was convinced that you weren’t processing what he was saying.

“What do you do in here?” You asked, your gaze wandering around his study.

“What?”

“You have an office and then a study, but I don’t see you here as much. Is this like the bedroom of your office?” You explained your question to him as you stepped away from his desk and went to look at his bookshelves.

Hm. You had such a weird way of thinking, but oddly enough, Nightmare understood what you meant.

He was silent as he watched you wander before he said anything else. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

His study was where he kept all of his things that he didn’t want cluttering up his bedroom. The room contained some books he liked, his journal, and a few trinkets he kept neat on a shelf that he’d collected over the past few hundred years. His study was a lot more comfortable than his office, which was used for more professional matters.

It seemed that you got bored of observing his books and trinkets, and you turned your attention back to Nightmare. “I couldn’t sleep… I saw the lights coming from here and thought I would say hello.”

So… You didn’t have a purpose to being here then. You were just making conversation so that Nightmare didn’t kick you out.

“Is that so?” Nightmare tapped his phalanges in a rhythmic order against his desk as he leaned back in his chair to get more comfortable. “Well, you’ve said hello to me now.”

That was a subtle way of his segway to kick you out of his study. He was in a decent mood so he was a lot more patient with you right now.

“I have.” You walked back over to him, but you were a bit bolder this time and you shuffled behind his desk, standing next to him just a few inches away. “Are you happy with what you do?”

Nightmare turned in his chair to face you, and he stared at you in silence, the only sound being the tapping of his phalanges.

Was he happy with what he did?

Of course, he was. He had been ringing up that sweet negativity out from people for the past five hundred years, he lived in a luxurious castle full of servants, and there were millions of people across the multiverse who feared him. He had rebuilt himself into someone different, someone better. Why wouldn’t he be…

Happy?

“I mean- you’ve just been alive for so long, and-“ You stuttered over your words as you tried to explain your question, but Nightmare cut you off.

“That’s enough.” He spoke sharply. “You can go to your room now.”

Well… He didn’t appreciate your question.

You turned to leave, exiting his study and going back to your room without saying anything else.

When the sound of your footsteps faded, Nightmare was alone again, and for a good while he just stared at the entryway to his study. Your question was somehow something he’d never asked himself before, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Was being happy important when he had everything he could want? Was it even possible for him to be happy with himself?

Nightmare uncapped his calligraphy pen and opened his journal back up, smoothing out the page he left off on before his pen hit the paper and he began to write about something outside of himself. Something he hadn’t done before.

‘ I don’t hate them like everyone else, and it sickens me. ‘

…

‘I’m beginning to feel something I haven’t felt for five hundred and six years.”

#undertale #undertale au #undertale alternate universe #sans #sans undertale #sans x reader #sans x you #sap #classic sans #sans headcanons #nightmare sans #nightmare sans x reader #dreamtale #bad sans trio #bad sans gang #bad sanses

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ginnsbaker · 2 years ago

Text

In Silent Screams (1/3)

Chapter word count: 10.3k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision Tags: Mentions of Smut (F/M), Cheating, Angst, Gaslighting

Notes: This will follow the events of IFISS (not strictly) but in Wanda's POV. Check the tags, you've been warned. This is not rated M, but feel free to skip parts you feel uncomfortable with.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part I

It’s all happening very fast and she’s hardly keeping pace.

You and Wanda have cleared the apartment you've shared for over five years. The boxes are loaded onto the moving truck, while more personal items are safely packed away in the trunk and rear seats. You're in the building's administrative office, addressing the bills and finalizing other necessities before the move, while Wanda waits for you, sitting on the floor in the middle of what used to be the living room.

Sparky darts around the room, the vastness of the deserted space giving him room to play. Every so often, he looks up at Wanda, his tail wagging, perhaps sensing the change that's about to come. Wanda's gaze follows the little dog, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, grateful for his company.

Every corner of this apartment held a memory—from the faded mark on the kitchen wall where Wanda accidentally spilled red wine, to the tiny dent on the living room floor, after Sparky ran into it during a rough playtime with you. Packing up wasn’t just about boxing items; it felt like carefully wrapping up fragments of time, every piece a memory filed away, never to be recovered ever again.

Though the accumulation of belongings over the years had made the space feel a tad cramped, and a move to a larger place seemed the logical next step, Wanda was deeply nostalgic about leaving behind this chapter. It marked the end of an era for you both—the days of being a young, hopeful couple in love. But at the same time, Wanda also held onto the hope that maybe starting anew somewhere would be good, especially since the past few months have been rocky, with her failed attempts to get pregnant and her stagnant career. Maybe a fresh environment would ease some of that pain, she thought.

The trail leading up to this new chapter, however, is characterized by your increasing hours at the office, overshadowing the time spent at the apartment. Yet, it's this very commitment that led to your promotion just two weeks ago, sparking the unexpected decision to move to an unfamiliar town in New Jersey.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, Wanda feels as if life is moving at an almost dizzying pace. Everything is changing so quickly: your recent promotion, the emotional roller-coaster of trying for a baby, and now the looming move. It’s been more than a lot to take in.

Your footsteps, a soft thud against the wooden floor, break the quiet, drawing Wanda from her deep thoughts.

“Ready to go?”

She turns towards you, her eyes slightly misty, and whispers, “Just one more minute.”

Understanding her need to linger, you cross the room and lower yourself beside her. “Are you okay?” you ask.

Nodding, she takes a deep breath, as if trying to inhale every memory, every scent of the place she's called home for so long. “Yeah. I just need a moment to say goodbye.”

Gently, you squeeze her shoulder, drawing her gaze to meet yours. “You know, it's not really goodbye,” you murmur, trying to reassure her. “Scott promised it’s temporary, so there's a good chance we could be back here in Manhattan.”

Wanda turns to face you, her eyes searching yours for any hint that you're merely telling her what she wants to hear. You consistently strive to make her happy, aiming to shield her from distress. It's a trait she adores about you, though it can slightly irritate her at times. But right now—

“You really think we might come back?” she asks.

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. Manhattan is where we built so many of our memories, and it will always be a part of us. Westview is just a chapter, not the whole story.”

—right now she appreciates your ability to ground her with your words.

She laughs a bit, dabbing at her eyes. “God, I've fallen so hard for this place.”

“Me too,” you say, giving in to the urge to kiss her forehead. After all these years, and despite being married for a while, you still constantly seek reasons to be near her, to touch her. “But wherever we’ll go, we’ll make it our own.”

Wanda decides to christen the first day in your new home by making love on the living room floor, and you're as eager to indulge her. It's short and sweet, straightforward in its intensity. You’re both already attuned to each other's bodies, and she knows precisely where to touch, how to curl her fingers to draw out those soft, sultry moans she always finds so enticing.

The shadows created by the fire dance across the walls, mirroring the boxes scattered all around, each labeled and awaiting their turn to be unpacked and settled into this new space. Wanda absentmindedly rakes her fingers through your hair, your head cushioned on her warm, pillowy chest as you sleepily hum a song. Every scratch sends tingles down your spine, adding to the lethargy pulling at your eyelids.

“'Fade Into You' by Mazzy Star,” Wanda says softly, recognizing the tune.

You give a soft, drowsy chuckle. “You always know. Remember that tiny café near your dorm? They played it on a loop. It was drizzling outside, and we had that ridiculously oversized shared umbrella.”

Wanda smiles at the memory. “How could I forget? We sat there for hours, sipping on our lattes and listening to that song. And we weren’t even together then.”

Drawing a deep breath, you let out a contented sigh, murmuring, “Yeah, but I was already so deeply in love with you then.”

Wanda scrunches her nose and smirks, teasingly retorting, “That's really cheesy.”

You grin, nuzzling further into her, feeling her heart's rhythmic beat beneath your ear. “Doesn't make it any less true,” you whisper.

Wanda would later reflect on this memory, wishing she had held onto it more tightly, especially since it marked the true beginning of something withering inside of her.

Westview isn't quite the place Wanda envisioned. Instead of offering an escape from the unresolved threads of both your lives, it feels more like trading one cage for another. The town pulses with its own set of peculiarities, a rhythm and routine foreign to her. She's ambivalent about it. Sees it only as a brief interlude, a temporary concession she's making to support your career endeavors.

The demands of your job appear to be greater than either of you anticipated. As she's finishing up the first dish she's prepared for the evening, you call her midday to say you won't be home for dinner.

It's not the first or even the third instance. She refrains from keeping tally because she doesn't want to be that kind of wife. However, she's certain it's happened more than just a few times. Wanda tries to hide the disappointment from her voice, assuring you it's fine and that she understands. But as she hangs up the phone, a sensation that's become all too familiar washes over her.

She finds herself drifting towards the window, gazing out at the street below, lost in thought. She's never been one to demand all of your time, but this—it's the first time she's felt so small and insignificant. Aside from that first day when you both made love on every possible surface, there hasn't been a moment recently where you've shown interest in being that adventurous again. You both promised never to become that type of couple. Yet now, she's tormented by the thought: maybe you no longer find her as attractive as you used to, or perhaps you've come to realize some latent disappointment in her.

But everytime you come back in the quiet of the night, pulling her close, kissing her neck, and nestling into her hair, you dispel all her doubts. Wanda's only learning now how exhausting and powerless it could feel to need someone this much.

One particular night, mirroring the many late evenings before, you arrive home to find Wanda watching television in the living room. Both of you are thrilled to see each other awake, rather than just you returning to a warm, sleeping body next to your (cold) side of the bed.

Wanda's hair is slightly tousled, eyes glazed from the weariness of the day, but they light up when they meet yours. The corners of her lips curl into a small, sluggish smile. “You're home,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and longing.

You shed your coat, moving towards the couch and sitting down beside her. “I missed you,” you admit, running a gentle hand through her hair.

She leans into your touch, her body molding against yours. “I've been trying to stay awake lately, just hoping I might get to see you before drifting off,” Wanda says. “Tell me about your day.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process the day's events. “Same old, same old,” you say, putting your head on her shoulder. “Tight deadlines. And you won't believe this, but Janet, my secretary, she's going on maternal leave sooner than expected. So the office... well, they decided to throw something together last minute.”

She sits up a bit. “So you weren't held up because of work, but because of a party?”

“Uh, yeah. I think I mentioned it in my text?”

“I didn't get any message about…” Wanda trails off, taking a moment to steady herself. You’ve barely seen each other in the past week. The last thing she wants is to lash out on you.

But instead of noticing her distress and apologizing, or recognizing how your consecutive absences have affected her, you're fixated on pulling out your phone, scrolling through your messages, to… what? To prove to her that you mentioned it in your text?

“I sent you a text. I swear, I mentioned it,” you mumble. After a few more seconds, you let out a sigh of exasperation, showing her the screen where the message lays unsent. “The message failed to send... I thought you knew.”

Wanda looks at the screen and then back at you, her gaze softening slightly. “It happens,” she says with a soft smile.

“I'm sorry, Wanda,” you admit, placing the phone down. “Yes, it was a gathering, and I should've double-checked or called.”

She shakes her head, her fingers brushing against your cheek, just happy to be touching you. “I’m not mad. I just miss you, that's all.”

You take her hand in yours, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I miss you too. So bad.”

Wanda shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable in the embrace. “Did you have fun, at least?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you reply with an enthusiastic nod. “It was great catching up with everyone, especially Janet. Did you know she only got married a year ago? And they're already expecting. It's amazing how quickly things happen for some people.”

Wanda's expression, which had been soft and open, changes almost imperceptibly. The brightness in her eyes dims a little, and there's a slight tensing of her lips, a subtle sign of the pain you unknowingly inflicted. You love her, yet at times you unintentionally wound her deeply without even realizing it. Wanda doesn't know how that can be, but in this moment, it feels truer than ever.

“She's really excited,” you continue, oblivious to the change in your wife’s demeanor. “They weren't even really trying. It just... happened. I'm happy for her, genuinely.”

Wanda nods, swallowing hard. “That's... that's great for them,” she says, forcing a smile. She withdraws from your hold, rising from the couch. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

This time, you notice the hardened look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It's nothing,” she replies with a faint, unconvincing smile. “Just tired.”

“Wanda—”

“Good night.”

You hold back, not pushing her for answers. She stops briefly at the base of the stairs, shoulders drooping. Then, with a heavy sigh, she slowly makes her way up, each step looking like it takes more effort than the last.

The computer screen shines a relentless blue glow onto her face.

As the weeks pass, she sees fewer and fewer unread emails, fewer blinking notifications. The heart of the art world has always thrummed with in-person interactions, art deals solidified by firm handshakes, cocktail parties filled with patrons looking to be swayed by a charismatic gallery curator, and the intimate closeness that comes from viewing a painting together and discussing its merits. Video calls, as efficient as they are, don't capture the nuance of human emotion and instinct in the same way.

Sometimes she dreams of being back in the thick of it all, surrounded by masterpieces and dizzying energy. Westview, however, is quaint, almost eerily so. It has its charms, its local coffee shops and small art scenes, but it's a far cry from the scenes of the big city.

She feels her importance at the gallery dwindling. She can't fault them; many of the responsibilities demand her physical presence. Currently, she can only manage to send crucial emails and direct calls and messages from essential patrons, sponsors, and others integral to the gallery's ecosystem. Her power of persuasion doesn't translate as effectively one email at a time.

Wanda has always enjoyed playing to her strengths, particularly when meeting artists in person, where she can swiftly adapt her tactics based on the reactions of her audience, all while maintaining her self-assured demeanor, knowing that she carries a natural charm. However, being stuck in this town has taken that from her.

Feeling the stirrings of frustration rise in her gut, Wanda steps away from the table and retrieves her cellphone. She stares at it like it’s her salvation, contemplating whether to make the call. She needs someone to talk to, someone who knows her, someone who won't judge.

She dials Agatha's number.

The phone rings a few times before a familiar voice, which once irked her but now only deepens her homesickness, answers.

“Wanda, dear! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wanda tries to muster her energy to match Agatha's, but a hint of her distress manages to seep through. “Hi, I'm—I'm doing well. How about you?”

“Great,” Agatha replies cheerfully, but then her voice drops, “What's troubling you?”

“Nothing,” Wanda tells her quickly. A soft “hm” emanates from Agatha's end, followed by a silence that feels hefty, but not oppressive. It's the kind of silence that invites confession, though with a gossip-driven curiosity.

“It's this place,” Wanda starts, “It's not what I expected. I thought being here would give me space to breathe, a fresh start, but instead, I feel... trapped. Isn't it ironic? I have all this open space around me, but I feel more confined than ever.”

Agatha sighs, a knowing lilt in her voice. “Look, we've been in this rat race long enough. New city, new job, new whatever—it's all the same cycle, just different packaging. Maybe this detachment you're feeling? It's a cue. A chance to rethink... everything.”

Wanda arches an eyebrow, though Agatha can't see it. “What are you saying?” Sparky trots towards her, mewling. Wanda briefly flashes him a smile before scratching him behind his ears.

Agatha's voice grows sharper, more incisive. “I’m saying that maybe you haven’t really given your new town a chance because you’re holding on tightly on a rope to the past. I'm saying maybe the gallery, as much as it's been your lifeline, is now your anchor. Dragging you down. Ever thought of cutting the cord?”

Wanda's heart races. “You mean quit? Just like that?”

A snort from Agatha. “Why not? What's it giving you right now? A title? Perks? Or just a nostalgia trip and a daily reminder of what used to be?”

Wanda is silent, grappling with the blunt reality Agatha’s laying out. The realization that maybe she's clinging to a past that doesn't fit her present is daunting.

“Look, Wanda,” Agatha continues, softer now, “it's just business. The gallery won't sink without you, and maybe you'll find a version of yourself you didn't know existed without it. Westview’s a new board. Play it.”

The house is enormous for two people and a small dog. The vastness of the space should thrill her, yet it amplifies her loneliness. Your early departures and late returns leave her lingering in the expanse, waiting for life to unfold. The sparkling countertops, the polished floors—she's cleaned them over twice this week, a feeble attempt to occupy her time, to feel some semblance of accomplishment.

But what's the point when, at the end of it all, it feels like nothing?

Wanda's eyes flutter open as she hears the familiar, albeit late, sound of the front door clicking shut. Recently, her sleep has been light, so even your softest footfalls register in her consciousness. She remains still, her back turned to the bedroom door, her breathing deliberate and even. The sounds of shuffling reach her ears: the rustle of clothes, a muted sigh, the faint creak of a floorboard.

The bed shifts, dips, as you ease yourself beside her. The silence stretches, becoming palpable, thick. And then, a whisper, soft and low, bathed in regret. “Wanda?”

She doesn’t respond, biting back the words she wants to unleash, the lack of purpose and direction she feels these days. The longing in her eyes, if you could see it, would tear right through you.

It's been five nights in a row. Five nights of cool sheets and colder silences.

Moments later, she feels you trace your fingers over the bare curve of her arm. “I'm sorry,” you whisper, every word dripping with the weariness of corporate warfare and personal neglect. “Missed you. Like you wouldn't believe.”

You press a tender kiss to her hair and Wanda holds her breath. “I promise, I'll make it right,” you say, your voice a mere breath against her ear. “We'll find our way back. I just... I need a bit more time.” Nestled against her, the familiar contours of her body will always be your home, and soon the demands of the past days pull you into a deep slumber.

Yet, for Wanda, sleep remains out of reach. Despite your assurances, a gnawing uncertainty has taken root in her heart. She craves your company, but she also harbors a growing resentment that she’s been trying to deny ever since she set foot in this forsaken town.

Not for the first time this year, Wanda wonders if you can really love someone deeply and yet blame them for the things in your life that make you unhappy.

The rain pelts down on Westview’s streets, the usually quiet lanes now slick with water and glistening under the sporadic streetlights. Wanda’s pace quickens, her umbrella slipping from her loose grip when an unforeseen splash from a passing car leaves her utterly soaked.

“Hey!” she shouts out, more from shock than anger. But the car drives on, indifferent to the trail of mess it's left behind. She's in the process of assessing the damage—wet strands of hair plastering to her face and her shirt now ruined – when he appears. A young man with strikingly bleached hair, seeming unaffected by the god-awful weather.

“You look like you're having a day,” he remarks, his voice carrying an amused lilt. With a confident stride, he approaches her. He’s tall—almost a foot taller than her. “Here, this might help,” he says, already moving to the trunk of his parked car nearby.

She watches him, curious and a tad skeptical. It's not every day a stranger offers assistance, especially in pouring rain. But this one is already producing a neatly folded tee from the trunk. “I hit the gym quite a bit. Always have a spare,” he explains, flashing a grin.

Wanda hesitates, her gaze shifting from the shirt to him and back. Up close, he appears younger than she initially perceived. “Thanks,” she murmurs, accepting the shirt. There's an odd sincerity in his eyes that makes her trust him, if only for this fleeting moment.

“How about a drink? To warm you up. And perhaps, as a small token of thanks for letting me play the good samaritan today,” he says. She arches an eyebrow, surprised by his boldness. Most people would've stopped at the shirt. Had this conversation taken place in Manhattan, Wanda would have already left with a sharp remark about his bold attempt to engage her in conversation. But here and now, she can't quite pinpoint why she hasn't brushed him off as she usually would have by this point.

Despite her initial reluctance, she finds herself smiling. You're the only person she's spoken to since arriving in Westview. She's so starved for a bit of normalcy that maybe a chat with a stranger might do the trick. After all, he's just a kid. She could regard him as a nephew or something similar.

“Alright,” she concedes, “just one drink.”

Within the first minute, Wanda learns his name: Victor Shade. However, he prefers the nickname ‘Vision’, which Wanda finds a tad whimsical. They find a cozy booth in a tucked-away corner, shielding them from potential prying eyes passing by the restaurant. While Wanda didn't plan to keep their meeting a secret, Vision naturally guided her to the more discreet spot.

“So, Wanda,” Vision begins, taking a sip of his drink, “What brought you to town? It doesn't seem like the most obvious choice for someone like you.”

Wanda looks at him, intrigued. “Someone like me? What does that mean?”

He chuckles, “Well, from our short interaction, you seem like someone who's seen bigger cities, more happening places. Westview is... charming, but quiet.”

“Same could be said about you. You don't exactly scream 'small town boy' either,” Wanda says.

Vision's eyebrows rise playfully, feigning offense. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Your confidence,” she retorts with a smirk. “It's loud, almost deafening. It echoes big city vibes.”

He laughs, nodding in concession. “Touche.”

As their conversation progresses, Wanda begins to see him less as a kid and more as a well-read, intriguing individual, particularly when Vision reveals he's an art major, his eyes lighting up as he talks about his passion for Renaissance art and postmodernism.“I graduated with a degree in art,” she shares, her own memories of university flooding back. She recounts stories of late-night classes and the exhilaration of her first gallery show. They bond over favorite artists and art movements, finding shared preferences and amusing disagreements. It's a pleasant surprise for Wanda to discover that, out of all the people in Westview, the first one she genuinely converses with is someone with whom she shares so much in common.

Yet, as she's engaging with Vision, a tiny voice at the back of her mind keeps drawing comparisons between him and you. The way you and Wanda communicate is so fundamentally different. You lean heavily on the left, analytical and logical in your thinking. Your conversations with Wanda often revolve around structured debates, dissecting topics with precision and care, always seeking the root cause or solution. Wanda, on the other hand, leans more to the right, driven by creativity and emotion. She loves diving into abstract concepts, weaving narratives and ideas with passion.

You and Wanda did find common interests and topics that you both enjoy. Over the years, you've had countless meaningful moments where you both found yourselves talking for hours on end. But the rapport she's building with Vision is something she hasn't felt in a long while, or perhaps ever, even with you. It's not necessarily better or worse; it's just different, and it takes her by surprise.

At one point, Vision’s gaze falls upon the glint of Wanda's wedding ring, reflecting the ambient light of the restaurant. “You're married,” he observes, not as a question but a statement.

Wanda hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes, I am.”

Vision looks at her, searching for something in her eyes. “Does he know you're out with a stranger?”

“She,” Wanda corrects instinctively, her cheeks warming as she notices his eyes sparkle with heightened interest, then she adds, “She probably wouldn't mind. We trust each other. Besides, it's just a drink with a friend, right?”

He smiles, raising his glass. “To friendship.”

For the first time, she arrives home later than you that night. Wanda finds you in the living room, curled up on the couch, a remote in hand, and an empty wine glass on the table beside you.

As the door clicks shut, you turn, and your eyes clouded with surprise as you meet hers. “Hey,” you murmur, the TV's remote paused mid-air, “Wasn't expecting you this late.”

Wanda shrugs, unsure of how to convey the unexpected turn her day had taken. She hangs her coat and moves towards the living room, her shoes making soft tapping noises against the wooden floor. “Ran into someone... from college,” she half-lies, the omission of Vision's identity a deliberate choice. Not out of guilt, but more a protective instinct to keep the evening's serendipitous meeting to herself.

“Oh? How was that?”

“It was... nice. Different,” Wanda replies, picking her words with care. She can sense your gaze on her, trying to piece together the puzzle, and she quickly adds, “We just grabbed a drink, caught up. You know how it is.”

You nod slowly, the lines of your face softening. “Good. You needed that. This move... it's been hard on you.” The acknowledgment feels like a balm, and Wanda gives you a small, appreciative smile. She’s about to head upstairs when your voice stops her in her tracks.

“That's a... unique shirt you've got there,” you comment. She turns around slowly to face you and sees a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Wanda glances down at the shirt she's wearing, an admittedly garish tee that's far from her usual style. “Some idiot in a car decided I looked better drenched,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “This was the only option the nearby store had.”

It's her third lie of the evening, and Wanda can't explain why she keeps doing it.

“Well, I've got to say, it's a look. You're absolutely killing it,” you tease, a bit sarcastically.

Wanda snorts, the tightness in her chest loosening a little. “Oh, shut it.” She can't help but smile. “You're one to talk. Remember that hideous Christmas sweater you insisted on wearing last year?”

Ah, a challenge. You rise from your spot on the couch, taking a deliberate step towards her. “That was festive. This is... rebellious?” you guess, tracing a finger in the air around the outlines of her new shirt. “You pulling a midlife crisis on me, Mrs. Maximoff?”

She blushes, but whether from the memory of the car incident or your close proximity, it's hard to tell. “It's just a shirt,” she retorts, but her voice cracks and the light in her eyes betrays her amusement.

Your fingers itch to brush against the fabric of her shirt, to maybe pull her closer. “You know,” you murmur, voice low, “you could make even a potato sack look sexy.”

Wanda bites her lower lip, her breath catching just slightly. She revels in the banter, the space between yourselves shrinking with every heartbeat. She finds herself lost in the pull, but a gnawing unease lingers, making her wary. Just then, Sparky comes out of nowhere, sprinting and eventually running into Wanda’s leg. His tail wags a mile a minute, pleading for Wanda to shower him with affection. Grateful for the interruption, Wanda quickly shifts her attention, bending down to indulge the spirited pup. “Missed me, did you, Sparks?”

You try to mask your disappointment, but the subtle change in your expression isn't lost on her, even as she pointedly looks away.

Nights following her meeting with Vision find Wanda restless. It isn’t necessarily Vision himself that haunts her thoughts, but rather their impassioned discussion on art (and just about anything). She realizes, with a sharp pang, how deeply she misses the world that served as her refuge for years when she sought to escape her own reality.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she heads to Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences, seeking a place where her passion and expertise could be valuable.

Hours later, she gets an email inviting her for an interview with the dean. Apparently, the school has been looking for an assistant professor for the past several months now.

A week later, they offer her the position, and she talks to you about it shortly after sending them the signed letter of acceptance.

Her first day at the school is all kinds of awkward, likely more so than her first day as a student years ago. The university building looks massive for being in such a remote, out-of-the-way town. All around, there's a crowd of young students bustling about, their laughter and conversations filling the crisp, morning air.

Among them, Wanda stands, momentarily frozen—an outsider looking in. She wears a chic black ensemble: slacks, a blazer, and a turtleneck, hoping to conceal the anxiety that's making it difficult for her to keep her breakfast down. However, as she's introduced to a few of the other professors, her resolve wavers. They're in more casual attire, and she can't help but feel a tad overdressed, sticking out like a meticulously painted stroke on an empty canvas.

She doesn't get to meet her students immediately. Instead, her day is consumed by orientation processes, faculty meetings, and an extensive tour of the sprawling campus. Every time she turns a corner or meets someone new, a mix of excitement and jitters rushes through her. The enormity of the responsibility she's shouldering, coupled with the fact that she's never taught anyone before (not even tutored)—it's both intimidating and thrilling all at once.

It's been a while since she's felt this alive, apart from the rare times when you're home on time, or when she gets to spend an entire day with you. But this? This is the first time in ages that something beyond the comfort of your love has rekindled a spark in her, reminding Wanda of a part of herself she had almost forgotten.

At the end of her first day, Wanda does meet one of her students.

Technically, she has met him before, but it was in the context of a friendly stranger who lent her his shirt when she needed it the most. When Vision told her that he was an art student, she didn't actually expect to find him attending the same university. She had assumed he was from the city and just passing through.

(Perhaps it’s her silliest assumption she's made to date but—it is what it is.)

“Aren't you a pleasant surprise,” Vision says, rolling down the window of his Mustang. When his voice reaches her, it's distinctly out of place, an unexpected ripple in her carefully mapped out day.

She swallows hard, resisting the urge to take a step back, “Vision, I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

He grins, the sunlight catching the edges of his aviator glasses. “It's a small world, or rather, a small university.” He tilts his head playfully, “Wait... are you...?”

Wanda cuts him off, “Let's just say, I'm exploring my options here.”

A pause ensues, both understanding the unsaid implications.

“You know,” Vision starts, leaning against his car, “I'd heard there was a new, 'exceptionally dressed' professor in town. Just didn't piece it together that it would be you.”

“It's a small world,” she murmurs, her face a shade paler.

He seems to sense her discomfort and remarks, “I suppose this changes everything.”

Wanda sighs, “It's just... I need to maintain a certain decorum here. It would be inappropriate if—”

“—If I turned out to be one of your students,” he finishes for her. His smirk is replaced by a milder expression. “Don't worry. Whatever our relationship outside this campus, I respect boundaries. And I expect you do too.”

She nods, appreciative of his maturity. “Thank you, Vision.”

Before she can fully turn away, Vision snaps his fingers together. “Oh, by the way, you left something with me from last time. Your shirt? The shirt you had to change out of?”

Wanda's face reddens slightly at the memory. “I completely forgot about that. Do you have it?”

Vision points with a thumb over his shoulder towards his car. “Wait a second. It's in the back.” He moves to retrieve the shirt, but after rummaging for a few moments, he frowns. “I could have sworn I left it here…”

He removes his sunglasses, allowing his gaze to lift in thought, revealing the unnaturally vibrant blue of his eyes to Wanda. “Ah, I remember now. It's in my laundry bag, which I took to my apartment.”

“It's fine. You can give it back another time,” Wanda says.

But Vision, with that same gleam in his eyes, counters, “Why not just come with me and get it now? It's a short drive.”

She bites her lip, thinking. On one hand, she'd rather not prolong their interaction given the new dynamics. On the other, it might be best to just get it over with. “I'm not sure…”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I promise it's just a shirt, Professor.”

The inclusion of the title almost brings a smile to her face. “Alright,” Wanda gives in, “But only if it’s quick. And remember, as far as the university is concerned, we’re merely acquaintances.”

“Technically, you haven’t met your class yet. And as of now, I’m not your student,” he points out with an innocent shrug.

The logic is sound, though it does little to quell the anxiety bubbling within Wanda. She nods, exhaling deeply. “Let’s go.”

They drive to Vision’s apartment building, the journey marked by fleeting glances and a silence that's not entirely comfortable. He attempts to dispel the tension, “I've washed and ironed the shirt for you. Hope that's alright.”

She looks over, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you, that's... unexpected.”

As she sits in the passenger seat of Vision’s car, Wanda inadvertently starts picking up on the small details surrounding her. She notices the immaculate interior of the car—not a stray piece of litter, every surface gleaming. There's a fresh, clean scent permeating the space, a subtle hint of citrus perhaps. It's not the typical aroma one would expect from a college student's car. She thinks of the younger people she's known and how their vehicles often doubled as chaotic storage spaces, littered with discarded clothes, takeaway containers, and the musty scent of overdue laundry.

When they arrive at his apartment, it further exemplifies this meticulousness. Sketches, paintings, and art supplies are neatly arranged, yet the area feels lived-in, warm, not sterile. It's easy to forget he's just 21. He exudes an aura of maturity that doesn’t align with his years. If they had met under different circumstances, and if she hadn’t known his age, she would have pegged him for someone much older, someone who's seen more, experienced more.

“Your shirt,” Vision says, pulling it out from a cupboard—neatly folded, rather than from the laundry bag he remembered earlier. “As promised.”

As Wanda accepts it, her fingers brush against a freshly painted canvas. The vibrant colors smear slightly under her touch.

“Oh! I'm so sorry,” she exclaims, pulling her hand back.

Vision waves it off, “No worries. Sometimes accidents lead to the best kind of art.”

He then looks contemplative for a moment before posing a question, “You know, Picasso once said, 'Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.' What do you think of that?”

The randomness of it throws her off for a second, before she regards him with a thoughtful look. “Well, in a way, creation and destruction aren't opposing forces. One can be a precursor to the other. To create something new, often something old has to give way.”

Vision's eyes light up, clearly pleased by her response. “Exactly! It's like when you're sketching. Sometimes, you have to erase an entire section just to rework it. And often, the second attempt is much better than the first.”

They continue discussing, each statement leading to another topic, and another. After a while, Vision hesitates before making a bold request, “Wanda, would you... would you mind if I sketched you? Just for practice. You have such unique features, and it'd be a challenge for me.”

“Trying to butter up your professor already?” It comes out a bit flirtatious by accident, and Wanda struggles to retract it.

He nods, a little sheepishly. “Only if you're comfortable. It’s just... our discussion has inspired me.”

Wanda laughs lightly, unable to deny that the notion does flatter her.. “Alright, but only for a bit. I'm not exactly dressed for a portrait.”

“You are…” Vision murmurs almost too quietly to hear, his eyes already fixed on his sketchpad. But Wanda still catches it, and a faint blush tints her cheeks. Vision gets to work. In this moment, she's both his muse and his critic, and for a brief while, a hushed silence envelops the room.

However, as the minutes tick by, Wanda begins to feel increasingly restless beneath his studious, penetrating gaze. She tries to keep her posture, attempting to appear at ease, but her muscles gradually tighten in response to his intent focus. There’s a kind of intimacy in being observed so closely that she wasn’t quite prepared for.

“Can you tilt your head just a bit to the left?” he asks, never lifting his gaze from the page. She obliges. Moments later, “A little to the right now, and chin up. Perfect.”

Wanda obeys, adjusting her position to his liking. But it's a stray strand of hair that falls onto her forehead that really tests her composure. Vision notices it immediately. “Could you brush that hair away, please?” he asks.

She reaches up, trying to tuck it behind her ear, but it stubbornly returns to its original position. Frowning in mild irritation, she tries again but with the same result.

Vision chuckles softly. “Stay still,” he murmurs, placing his sketchpad to the side. He carefully rises from his seat and approaches her, eyes never leaving her face. “I'll fix it.”

Heart inexplicably racing, Wanda can't comprehend why she obeys so willingly, remaining motionless as Vision's fingertips ghost near her face. The distance between them becomes almost negligible as his face hovers mere inches from hers. She can feel the warmth of his breath, see the earnest concentration in his eyes. Slowly, ever so gently, his fingers brush the errant strand away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “There we go,” Vision whispers.

But instead of retreating, he lingers. She watches as Vision's eyes flutter closed, and he begins to lean in. She's teetering at the precipice of something that can't be taken back, and she’s horrified to discover a part of her that wants to give in.

Shaking herself out of the trance, she manages to whisper with a tremble in her voice, “I... I have to go.” Her words cut through the moment like a knife, yet Vision remains close, eyes searching hers as he softly challenges, “Are you sure?”

That simple question, laden with suggestion, irks Wanda. This was more than just an innocent sketching session. Irritation builds as she understands what he might have been attempting. In her haste to distance herself, she stands abruptly, accidentally brushing his face with her head. She doesn't apologize, too focused on gathering her belongings.

Vision, realizing his mistake, scrambles to his feet, “Wanda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—”

But she cuts him off, hand already on the door handle. “I'll see you in class, Mr. Shade.”

Wanda doesn't know how you managed to convince her to shower together one morning.

To be fair, you didn't make much of an effort to persuade her, and she was more than willing to participate. Perhaps it's because life has been an unending whirlwind lately, a blur of responsibilities and ever-mounting pressure. Her fresh endeavor into academia had consumed much of her waking hours, leaving her mentally drained by the end of the day. You, on the other hand, seemed perpetually buried under a mountain of paperwork and late-night calls.

It's not an excuse, of course, but these realities have inadvertently wedged a distance between the two of you. So, on that fateful morning, when you followed her into the bathroom, you were a woman on a mission. But as you wordlessly entered the shower, a certain determination evident in your stride, Wanda felt the need to object. Her protest, however, was cut short. The feel of your lips on hers, possessive and demanding, effectively silenced her. Her knees threatened to give way, and if not for the firm grip you had on her waist, she might have collapsed. Instead, she melted into your arms, letting you take the lead, and well—

That resulted in her losing nearly half of her students for her first class of the day because they believed she wouldn't show up after being nearly twenty minutes late.

“That can’t happen again,” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

It occurs a few more times before she intentionally begins waking up before your alarm goes off. Wanda misses her wife, but she misses the life you both left behind even more. And despite finding satisfaction in her new career, she can’t seem to stop resenting you for that.

Her period is a week late, but Wanda isn't worried. You both stopped trying to conceive before coming to New Jersey. However, it does remind her of something else she had to let go of and how it felt like you gave up on her too easily for comfort.

The stress from her new job eventually begins to take a toll on her. Stacks of papers sprawl across the table, some marked with red ink, others waiting to be perused. Her hand moves methodically, adjusting her notes, reviewing her questions, ensuring every detail is in place for the impending exam. Her back protests from the hours spent in the same position, her eyes blink away the fatigue, but she's determined to finalize every last bit. It takes a few more moments before she finishes editing her students’ first examination. It's late—far too late for her to still be at the university, but a sense of accomplishment washes over her.

In the middle of soaking up her minor achievement for the day, she suddenly remembers Sparky. He's been left for hours, with just water, and that she's supposed to get groceries for him this afternoon. Shit, Wanda curses breathily, hurrying her movements.

She's about to shut her laptop when she hears a knock on the door. Thinking it's the security guard, she quickly rehearses her plea for just a few more minutes. However, when she opens the door, she's staring into the all-too-familiar blue eyes of Vision.

Wanda takes an involuntary step back, her pulse quickening. “Mr. Shade,” she greets, an uncharacteristic iciness in her voice.

He looks equally surprised, “Wan—Professor Maximoff,” he responds. “I... I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Neither was I. What are you still doing here?”

Vision runs a hand through his hair, looking bashful for a change. “I often come to the art room late at night. It helps me think, especially when I feel creatively stuck. I was on my way home and noticed the lights still on in this office.”

Wanda feels a pang of suspicion, even as she tries to remind herself that the university is as much Vision's space as it is hers. Still, she can't help but feel wary. “Well, I'm just leaving,” she says curtly, shouldering her bag. Before she can take another step, Vision's fingers encircle her arm, the unexpected touch of warm skin on skin causing her to pause. She looks down at where his fingers lightly grip her, and then up into his earnest eyes. She can feel the warmth of his hand, the roughness of his fingertips.

“Wait,” he murmurs, his blue eyes locking onto hers, an earnest plea evident in their depths. “We need to talk.”

Wanda instinctively tries to pull her arm away, but Vision's grip tightens, not painfully but enough to keep her there. He steps closer, effectively cutting off her escape route. His height becomes even more pronounced as he leans slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. His presence feels overbearing, almost intimidating, as he places himself between her and the exit. He quietly closes the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence, and the room feels much, much smaller now.

Wanda's eyes dart around, looking for a way out, her mind racing. “Vision, this isn't appropriate,” she manages to say.

All he says is, “I know. I'm sorry.”

They find themselves engaged in a staring contest, with only the sound of their breathing serving as a reminder of each other's presence. Several tense seconds pass, with neither willing to break the gaze. Then, slowly, Vision eases the grip on her arm, his fingers lingering for a moment before letting go entirely. He steps back deliberately, emphasizing the space between them, a clear invitation for her to leave if she chooses to.

Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Wanda takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She wants to leave, to create as much distance as possible between them, especially when she knows what's about to happen if she gives in even the slightest bit.

She takes a shaky breath and, for the briefest moment, her gaze drifts to her work laptop. A flash of silver catches her eye. Her USB, containing the work she's been laboring on for hours. “I-I forgot something” she mutters, panic rising in her voice. “I need that before I go,” she says, pointing to the device.

Vision nods, not saying a word. Wanda cautiously begins to move towards the desk, but before she can reach it, Vision's there, his movements swift and silent. He suddenly wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The initial shock has her resisting, pushing against his chest, but it's short-lived. Before she knows it, she's letting out a quiet sigh, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He hoists her up effortlessly, seating her on the edge of the desk.

As she looks up at him, he slides his hands up, disappearing beneath her skirt. The faintest image of your face flickers across Wanda's mind, a ghost of a memory that almost pulls her back to sense and reason. But as Vision's fingers find their wet mark, Wanda's grip tightens on the edge of the desk, her eyes fluttering closed. She can no longer recall the sequence of events that led her to this very moment, nor the myriad reasons why it shouldn't be happening.

Every bit of rationale, every thought of you, all seem to evaporate, leaving only the need to breathe and to feel.

To just be.

Wanda remains in her car without starting the engine for a good thirty minutes. She left the room as soon as she could pull her panties up past her knees. She can feel the residual heat on her skin, how he felt inside of her. She resists the urge to squeeze her thighs together, attempting to disregard the stickiness and discomfort she feels.

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you. But as much as she’s drowning in guilt, she couldn’t deny how her mind keeps going back to Vision’s touch, the way he'd made her feel so alive, so seen, in a way she hadn’t felt in a while. It's maddening, this push and pull. It's like there are two sides of her fighting it out inside—one, the devoted partner who loves you, and the other, a woman who's awakened, yearning for something she can't quite put into words.

She laughs, the sound teetering on the edge of hysteria. It's an unsettling sound in the quiet of the car, an indication of her fraying sanity. How did she get here? How did she become this person? In what manner did she find herself engaging in infidelity despite your presence in her life? You've been the guiding light in her life for so long, making her the best version of herself she's ever known. But still, how can she undo this part of herself she never thought existed?

Tears form in her eyes as she closes them, trying to banish the memories, to shut out the storm of emotions threatening to consume her. But they're too powerful, too raw, too fresh. Too real. And she knows she has to face them, to confront the reality of what she's done and decide where to go from here.

It's just past midnight when Wanda's car pulls into the driveway. She emerges from the vehicle in a daze, her steps slow and disconnected, as if each step leads her inexorably towards her reckoning. The door to the house opens before she can even reach for the knob. There you stand, concern evident in your eyes. Wanda hadn't expected to find you awake, especially not at this hour, waiting for her.

It’s your scent first that reaches her before anything else, the distinct aroma of fresh pine from the sprawling garden surrounding the house, coupled with the distinct smell of Sparky, suggesting that you've held him close most of the night. The protective, almost desperate way your arms encircle her reveals just how much you've been consumed with worry about her whereabouts and safety.

Every time you’re near, every time she gets to hold you, it’s instinctual for her to break into a smile. But tonight, it's ephemeral. A tidal wave of guilt and regret crashes over her. She stiffens in your arms, the realization of her actions making her insides churn.

“Where were you?” you exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard. “I've been here, pacing, worried out of my mind, and I couldn't reach you.”

It's the questioning, the concern, the love in your voice that breaks something inside her. “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry,” she says evenly, almost robotically.

You raise an eyebrow, frustration evident. “You could've borrowed a phone or used the school's landline, right?”

She has to remind herself that your words aren't accusations. You're not out to corner her; you genuinely don't know what she's done. And in that moment, she decides that she'll do everything to ensure you will never know.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda resorts to tactics she despises in herself. “Like I said, I was working,” she retorts with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, hoping the hint of condescension in her tone might distract you, even as it tears at her own conscience. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

Your reaction to her words is immediate, a palpable retreat, and she's overcome with the urge to spill every secret, every confession, if only she could be certain you wouldn't walk away.

“Fine,” you say tersely, stepping aside to let her pass. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” You don’t bother to hide the hurt in your eyes and her resolve almost crumbles.

“Sounds good,” she says and turns abruptly, making her way upstairs, her pace quickening with every step.

In the morning, she offers you kisses as an apology, and you're blissfully unaware of the hundred ways it's steeped in treachery.

It keeps happening with Vision and she starts to waste away. On the surface, she seems to be taking better care of herself: shedding some weight, toning in ways that leave you entranced during the few mornings you catch her making breakfast.

But Wanda is adept at playing it cool, brushing off your hungry gazes as if they're mere figments of her imagination. She longs for you in the same intense way she always has, but she's entangled in this twisted duality now. As she writes names and explanations on the board, she can almost feel the intensity of Vision's stare, a heat on her back that she's come to recognize all too well. Sometimes, during a lecture, she'll turn and catch him staring, and right then, she knows where they'll be once the session ends. She also begins to frequent places she's never been to before, corners of the town she hopes no one will recognize them in. There, they sit side by side, their knees touching underneath the table, talking about everything and nothing.

And you wouldn't, not for a second, entertain suspicions about her hardly ever being at home. Because your love for her is profound, and your trust, even more so. Because she knows you're buried under the weight of your own challenges at work, and capitalizes on this knowledge for the time being. Because whatever this is, whatever she’s doing with Vision, she knows it’s temporary. She swears she’ll clean up after herself, the moment she can purge this from her system.

Because none of it feels as if they're truly happening, and Wanda convinces herself it's just a hazy, erotic dream from which she can wake at any moment she chooses.

“Do you love me?”

The question hits Wanda like a freight train. Of course she does. You’re her… of course she does. And she’s never felt the fear of losing you, the true love of her life, more acutely than now.

“Of course I love you,” Wanda says, fighting to keep her voice steady even as her chin quivers. “What a silly question.”

“I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” you pause, your voice quivering, letting out a mirthless laugh, “We’re still working.”

Her guilt amplifies. She's been so engrossed in her own struggles that she failed to see how it's affecting you. The toll it's taken on your relationship. Your insecurities, your need for validation, all because she's been distant and distracting herself from her own demons. She's grateful the shadows conceal her face from you, or else it would be to easy for you to recognize the truth, and—

“I just miss you,” you confess, and it stings.

“Me too,” she whispers, the words filled with layers of meaning she can't articulate. Wanda tries to find more words, something to reassure you further, but she can't quite comfort as effortlessly as you do for her. You've always been more adept at loving her than she's ever been with you.

“Good night,” you say, and Wanda detects no underlying bitterness in your tone. She almost wishes there were. It'd be easier if you didn't love her so unconditionally; then she wouldn't feel so wretched for the secrets she's keeping just beyond this room's walls.

She goes as far as asking herself if she simply misses having a cock inside of her, the thought nagging at her especially when Vision stays firmly inside her, holding her in place as he spills into a condom. She flutters around him a few more times before she slackens in his hold.

Pushing away the guilt that threatens to engulf her every time they are together, Wanda wonders if this reckless escapade with her student is merely an escape from the monotonous predictability of her life or a deeper reflection of some unmet need. Vision’s bedroom becomes a space of both pleasure and torment for her. When she catches her reflection in the mirror he’s installed in front of the bed, she barely recognizes the woman staring back, eyes clouded with both desire and regret. She clings to the belief that once she figures out what she's truly seeking, she can end it all and return to you, wholly and completely. But the more she thinks about it, the more elusive the answer becomes.

Vision’s bony hips gradually come to a stop, and he finally pulls out of her. She feels the evidence of their recent activities on her skin, and is hit with an overwhelming need to wash it all away.

“I need a shower,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. He simply nods, watching her intently. There's a question in his eyes, perhaps seeking assurance or simply wondering if she'll return to his bed afterwards. Wanda doesn't give him an answer, nor does she meet his gaze for long. Instead, she wraps herself in whatever piece of clothing she can find and heads towards the bathroom.

When she emerges from the shower, redressed in the clothes she wore earlier, Vision is absent from the bedroom. Instead, the appetizing aroma of food wafts toward her. Following the scent, she discovers him in the kitchen, incongruously clad in a pink apron over his boxers.

As Wanda heads straight for the exit, Vision's voice abruptly stops her.

“Wanda, wait.”

She halts, not turning around, her hand still clutching the handle.

“You act as if I'm luring you back each time, Wanda. Like I'm this puppeteer pulling your strings.” He casually flips whatever he's cooking. “That's not how it is, and you know it.”

Wanda grimaces, his words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “Vision, it's not that—”

He interrupts her, his tone dripping with feigned innocence, “Have I ever forced you? Pushed you into anything? Or have you willingly come to me every time? You have, haven’t you?”

She turns to face him. “You know it’s more complicated than that—”

“Yet you keep coming back. And every time you do, I think, 'Maybe she sees in me what I see in her.' But then you run, making me out to be the villain.” He finally looks up, his eyes pleading and calculating at the same time.

Tears well up in her eyes. She tries to speak, but he continues, overriding her. “You're an intellectual, Wanda. A brilliant mind. I've learned more from you this semester than years combined. Isn't it natural to be drawn to such brilliance? To want more than just lectures?”

“I'm married,” Wanda states with conviction, even though just an hour ago, that fact held no meaning beneath the sheets. “I've made vows. Promises. Every time I’m with you, I question myself, my integrity. I don't know why I keep letting this happen.” Wanda's voice quivers with frustration and desperation. Vision sees it as a minor victory. He knows he's affecting her.

Disregarding the pan and turning off the stove, he approaches her, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to weave his narrative into her consciousness.

“That's just it, isn't it? There's no betrayal. We're not sneaking around, planning secret getaways. We're two souls who've connected on a level that's rare. Deep, profound. We're just... experiencing it.”

She takes a step back, shaking her head furiously. “It's not right.”

He follows, closing the distance between them. When she’s within his reach, he lifts her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Who defines what's right, Wanda? Why is it wrong for two souls with undeniable connection to explore every facet of it? Does it make us bad people to want to feel alive?"

She tries to pull away, her gaze dropping to the floor, but he tightens his grip on her chin. “Look at me,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Tell me you don't feel it. This connection.”

She inhales sharply, her resistance waning. “I do... but I can't understand why.”

He releases her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “Because it's natural. And maybe… maybe there's nothing malicious in it. Nothing deceitful. We're just... experiencing.”

Wanda closes her eyes, his words washing over her, causing further confusion. “What do you want from me?”

He smiles, his touch growing bolder as he cradles her face. “I want friendship. Inspiration. You've become my muse, Wanda.”

“She loves me,” she murmurs, a last-ditch effort to wriggle free from his hold.

“And you love her, right?” he challenges, slowly starting to unbutton her blouse.

“Yes, but—”

“But love isn't singular,” he interrupts, his fingers moving deftly, revealing more of her skin with every second. “You can love her and still find something unique with me. Your love for her isn’t lessened because of our connection.”

Wanda bites her lip. With every piece of clothing he peels away, it feels like he’s stripping away her defenses, too. “It's not just about love. It's about commitment, trust.”

He slides her jacket off her shoulders, his hands warm against her bare arms. “And haven't you committed to her in every other aspect of your life? You share a life, a home, memories, and love. What we have... it's different. It's intellectual, spiritual,” he argues, his gaze never leaving hers.

“But there are lines we’ve crossed—”

“Lines society drew for us.”

She swallows hard, tears threatening to spill. “I just don't want to hurt anyone.”

His voice softens, even as his fingers deftly work at the last buttons of her blouse. “Neither do I. But sometimes, in life, we have to listen to our true desires, to understand what our heart and soul really need. It’s not about being selfish; it’s about being true to oneself.”

And is this one of her 'true' desires?

Before she can articulate things further, the last of her defenses and garments are stripped away, and Visions sheds his boxers and draws her near. Their skins meet, a tantalizing sensation of heat and urgency. Wanda's breath catches as Vision's strong arms wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, their closeness leaving no room for hesitation or doubt.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #my writing #category: angst #iss #my fic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n

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wileys-russo · 2 years ago

Text

manchester is saved II m.earps x reader

"mumma!" you looked up from your phone, pocketing the device with a wide smile watching your almost six year old son sprint toward you, backpack comically almost as big as he was.

"well hello! someone's had a good day then hm?" you laughed at the huge grin on his face as he waved goodbye to his friends, you sending a smile to some of their parents you knew quite well.

"the best day!" mason beamed, and you couldn't help but melt at how much he looked like your wife when he did so. he had your eyes and the same dirty blonde hair that ran deep in your genes, but his sloped nose, rambunctious laugh and cheeky smile was exactly alike your wife.

"well don't hold out on me, tell me all about it." you demanded as you took his bag from him and he grabbed your hand, swinging it to and fro as the two of you began to walk home, not living very far from the school both you and mary took turns walking him to and from each day.

he began to happily ramble on and on about his day, which you knew he would enjoy given the fact they'd run a sports camp for the kindergarten class for half the day, you having give him very very strict instructions not to lose the permission slip you'd tucked away securely into his bag last week.

"then we have sports day next week! are you and mama coming?" he asked hopefully, looking up at you as you affectionately ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, moving it out of his eyes. "of course my love, we'll both be there." you promised as he cheered happily, hugging your leg.

"oh! can i go get mama some flowers?" he gasped, seeing a few wild daises growing in a clump on the nature strip, sprinting off after you nodded. you leaned against the front gate of your house with his backpack in hand, watching on carefully as the five year old squatted down.

you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself at the way his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, eyebrows knitted into a frown exactly mirroring mary's own concentrating face as his eyes wandered the clumps of flowers in front of him.

you and your wife were both fiercely protective over the boy ever since he'd blessed the two of you coming into the world. you'd tried IVF three times until finally on what you'd both agreed would be the final run you'd fallen pregnant.

it wasn't an easy birth with mason coming out feet first, and a grueling ten hour labour had you demanding any and all drugs they'd give you, snapping your wifes head off anytime her lips curled up in amusement, cursing her out over and over as you'd almost broken her hand squeezing it so hard.

but you'd done it and the moment you both laid eyes on him felt a surge of love different to anything you'd experienced before, and in that moment you and your wife made a silent promise that no matter what you would never let a soul harm so much as a hair on his head.

though mary had always been the more over protective out of the two of you, especially since mason had always been quite soft spoken and sensitive, taking after you in that sense.

he was a perfectly happy child, always with a beaming smile on his face and refusing to let either of you cut his hair meaning it hung down just past his shoulder blades, often tied back into a loose bun to keep it out of his eyes.

but as much as he loved to run around and climb trees, scraping his knees and coming home covered in dirt or leaves, he also found immense joy in letting you paint his nails, or allowing one of his aunties to braid his hair, and you and mary made no move to discourage any of it.

though you did have to step in when he decided he wanted to wear his underwear outside of his clothes to his school one day and you'd made him change. taking the bad cop role that day your heart broke as afterwards he ran crying to mary, the older girl sending you an empathetic smile as she rocked him back and forth.

but his soft and caring nature had meant once he was old enough to talk mary had made sure to constantly affirm and build up his own self confidence, making sure he knew how to stand up for himself despite your fussing that he would be fine, your wife forever worried he would be picked on for being that little bit different.

the goal keeper was a nervous wreck his first day of school, overthinking every little possibility that something would happen. you did everything in your power to try and assure her that though he took after you he was still her son, and had her same hard headed determination to any task he set his mind to.

to your collective relief even if more shy in nature, school brought him further out of his shell, turning him into quite the little social butterfly, you and mary needing to get him his own calendar for the fridge to keep track of the multitude of birthday parties, play dates and outings he was invited on.

"come on mase!" you called out, shaking your head with a smile as he struggled to choose which flowers to pick, the boy glancing over to you and sending a thumbs up, quickly pulling out a small handful. you laughed as he also grabbed a fistful of weeds, tucking them in with his little bouquet and racing back over to you.

"i couldn't choose what ones, didn't want to hurt the other flowers feelings." he huffed as you smiled, opening the gate as he ran past you and up the driveway. "careful please!" you warned as he took the front steps two at a time, your breath catching as he stumbled but fixed his footing, waiting for you patiently by the front door.

"bang your shoes please babe." you nodded as he stomped his feet, shaking off the excess dirt and you unlocked the door. you took the flowers from him and hung his bag up as he sat down on the floor and pulled his shoes off.

mary's car not yet in the driveway you knew she wasn't home, much to masons disappointment as he ran a lap of the house calling out for her until you reminded on tuesdays and thursdays she arrived home after he did, the boy nodding with a sigh.

knowing the way to his heart was the same as your wife you proposed some food, tilting his head back and kissing his forehead as he sat at the table and you placed a colouring book in front of him.

placing his flowers in a cup of water you busied yourself making him a sandwich, waiting patiently as he ticked over and over trying to decide what he wanted. "half and half? mama can have the same when she gets home." you offered as he nodded happily, attention dropping back down to his colouring.

making two sandwiches, one ham and cheese and the other with turkey you cut them in half, placing two halves aside for your wife. "bbq or prawn cocktail?" you asked holding up two packets of crisps, your son pointing to those in your left hand.

placing a handful onto his plate alongside some cut up strawberries you put everything away, mason asking if he could watch some tv as you nodded, helping him down and following after him. setting his plate down on the coffee table you clicked onto his favourite show and left him to it.

you glanced to the time with a slight frown, mary normally home no later than four. with a shrug you helped yourself to the sandwich you'd made her, placing away everything you'd used as you heard her keys in the front door.

"only me!" she yelled out letting herself in, a thump telling you she'd dropped her kit bag by the door making you roll your eyes at the small habit you were constantly telling her off for. "in here!" you called back, mason's head shooting up as he hurried to his feet.

"you're home!" he launched at mary the moment she rounded the corner, the tall girl grunting as his body rammed into her legs and she stumbled for a moment before catching her balance. "hello handsome, i missed ya!" mary grinned, pulling him up into her arms and kissing all over his face as he whined and tried to push her off.

"yeah she's gross isn't she mase." you teased sticking your tongue out making him giggle as your wife let him down and he raced back off to finish his show. "forever the charmer aren't you darling." mary rolled her eyes playfully, moving to press your body against the fridge, just out of sight of your son.

"stuck with me now." you grinned holding up your wedding ring as your wife pulled you into a kiss, mumbling that was exactly how she wanted it. "you're home late?" you questioned as she let you go, pecking your lips a few more times and pushing off of you.

"had to drop tooney home her car shit itself again!" mary rolled her eyes as you smacked her shoulder and nodded to the five year old within earshot. "sorry gorgeous." the girl smiled guiltily, you forever warning her about her language in front of mason, who was in the phase of repeating everything and anything.

you'd both found that out the hard way the other morning.

"good morning beautiful." your wife had sauntered into the kitchen, playfully smacking your bum as she breezed past you toward the coffee machine. "watch it earps." you'd warned playfully, flipping over the pancakes as she stuck her tongue out at you.

"good girl mumma!" your head snapped down toward your son who now stood beside you, looking up at you with his disheveled bed hair and a smile, hugging your leg.

"what did you just say love?" mary frowned as he climbed up to sit at the table across from her. "good girl! mummas a good girl." he repeated making your eyes widen as they locked with marys, which only twinkled with slight amusement.

"why do you say that mase?" mary asked, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to de-tangle it. "you said it mama, heard you this morning when you and mumma were wrestling." he chirped, busying himself playing with one of his toy cars, driving it along the table and making noises with his mouth as you choked on air in surprise at his words.

"i'm going to kill you." you mouthed seriously toward the smirking older girl, who'd been insistent your son wasn't awake when she'd had her way with you this morning, far too eager to get up and lock the door despite your worries.

dumping masons pancakes onto a plate you moved to place them in front of him once you'd cut them up, gently removing the toy car from his hand and giving him a fork.

"thanks sexy!" the boy grinned, repeating marys exact words she'd just spoke as you handed her her coffee a few seconds prior. "mase no, thats an adult word okay? you do not say whatever mama says." you'd warned sternly as he'd only shrugged, too busy devouring his pancakes.

safe to say you and mary hadn't wrestled for quite a while after that, much to her utter displeasure.

"oh thank you." you smiled as your son ran into the kitchen and handed you his now empty plate which you stacked in the dishwasher. "mama! those are for you, i picked them." he beamed pointing to the daises on the counter, marys entire face melting.

"oh mase, baby they're beautiful. thank you!" mary grinned, affectionately touching the flowers before bending down to wrap him in a tight hug. "tell mama about your day mase!" you nodded encouragingly as mary picked him up and sat him up on the counter.

he gestured his hands around wildly as he spoke making you smile as you watched on, mary over-acting her facial expressions to make sure he knew she was just as engaged in his story telling, taking a quick photo with your phone and tucking it back your pocket.

you stepped out of the room for a moment, retreating to your bedroom and changing, taking off your bra and sighing in relief as you swapped from jeans into a pair of joggers, tugging one of your wifes england hoodies on over the top.

though as you returned to the kitchen it seemed your timing was somewhat perfect to hear the one sentence you never thought you'd hear uttered in the earps household.

"and i was striker! and i'm gonna be striker on wednesday for sports day." mason beamed as you stopped in your tracks, watching marys face fall for a moment before she slapped a fake smile on, nodding through the pain in her eyes.

"hey mase? can you go and tidy up your toys on the floor of your room please." you called out, your son nodding as mary helped him down, slumping against the counter as he disappeared and you checked he was out of earshot.

"oh my love." you held back the urge to smile, opening your arms as the taller girl collapsed into them, chin resting on your shoulder as she let out a deep and troubled sigh. "a fucking striker. my own son!"

"mary." you warned, rubbing her back and feeling her huff. "there is goal keeping trophies, gears, posters, all around this house! and now he wants to be a fucking striker." mary unwrapped herself from you, pulling herself to sit up on the counter with a scowl.

"at least he wants to play?" you tried, moving to stand between her legs with your hands resting on her knees. "i'd rather he not play than be a bloody striker! no son of mine isn't going to follow in his mothers footsteps." mary shook her head firmly, a smile curling onto your lips.

"baby you can't force him to be a goal keeper." you laughed as she only scoffed. "i can and i will! just you watch." mary challenged, pushing you away with her foot and jumping down, calling out for mason.

"mary alexandra earps, you leave him be." you warned, your wife waving you off as your son appeared. "shall we go to the park and kick a football?" mary offered, mason nodding happily before he ran off to grab his shoes at her request.

"you are unbelievable."

you sat on a picnic blanket watching on with your arms crossed as your wife tried any and every way she could to sway masons mind.

"isn't this more fun?" mary cheered as she softly kicked the ball toward mason, makeshift goal set up using a few sticks to mark the posts as he shook his head, refusing to even move and try to stop it as it rolled past him.

"i wanna kick it!" he huffed, stamping his feet and flaring his nostrils, alerting you he was dangerously close to a meltdown. "mary!" you called out, raising your eyebrows as she waved you off.

"you do kick it! but only if you stop it, like i showed you before. try again!" she raced over to grab the ball, pausing to re-tie masons hair which had slipped out of the loose bun it was tied back into given the amount of times he'd furiously shaken his head at her.

you sighed with a shake of your own head, flopping down onto your back and closing your eyes, the warm rays of an impending sunset bathing your face. "yeah! like that." mary cheered as mason stopped the ball, but not before he kicked it hard as he could in the other direction and raced over toward you.

you grunted as he landed on top of you, tucking his head into your neck. "mama won't let me kick." he mumbled as you moved a hand to rub his back, sitting up and shooting your wife a stern look as she huffed and kicked at the ground like a scolded child.

"okay, sit up for me please mase." you gently pulled him away from you, setting him down to sit in your lap as he looked up at you with a frown. "don't do that, if the wind changes your face gets stuck like that forever!" you teased, smoothing out his eyebrows with your thumbs.

"can you do something for me?" he nodded at your words and you glanced over his shoulder to see mary lost in thought, staring away into the distance with a troubled look on her face. "you know how we go and watch mama play football yeah? in the big stadiums." he nodded again.

"well mama is a goal keeper. so strikers are like her bad guy, like how all superheros have a villian." you started. "like batman and riddler?" you now nodded at your sons words.

"but only when she's playing! its like pretend, all a big game. like when aunty lessi kicks the ball at mama and tries to get it in the goal? mama and aunty lessi are still best friends after the game right?" he nodded again.

"so why don't you ask mama if she'll take turns with you? you be the striker and then it's her turn, but you can't let her score when she's striker! otherwise the bad guys win." you smirked, tickling at his sides as he giggled but nodded, jumping off and running back toward mary.

you watched on as mary squatted down beside your son, holding his hands as the boy did his best to recount what you'd just told him, the smile returning to her face as she nodded happily at his words.

you knew this was only the start of a very long battle, knowing your wife well enough that this was only a band aid solution to the inevitability she would do anything in her power to have mason earps be the next big goal keeping name.

you laid back down in the sun grabbing your wifes sunglasses where they sat on the ground and slipping them on, the sounds of your families laughter causing a soft smile to curl onto your lips.

however your lack of watching had meant you'd missed mary call over your son and whisper something in his ear, the two of them growing bored of football and advancing toward you. "get her!" your eyes shot open at that as you pushed the sunglasses up onto your head just in time to see mason jump on top of you, mary following suit.

"no! no no no please." you begged as both your wife and sons fingers jabbed into your sides, your body thrashing as mary held you down with a grin, your laughter filling the air as masons own little giggles joined in.

"manchester is saved mase, bad guy defeated!" mary high fived the blonde as the two of them finally ceased their attack, mason running off to kick the ball as you struggled to catch your breath.

"never gets old." mary grinned cheekily, hovering over you and sweetly pecking your lips a few times as you shook your head and flipped her off, still trying to recover.

"just you wait till i call less and let her know her godsons choosing to follow in her footsteps instead of his own mothers!" you teased once you could speak again. "don't you dare." mary warned as she sat beside you, a beat of silence falling between you before you grabbed your phone and jumped to your feet.

"traitor! get her mason!" mary yelled after you as your son dropped the football in his hands and chased after you with a grin, mary quickly packing everything up into a bag.

"mama!" she glanced up as mason gestured toward you as you darted past her, mary easily grabbing you by the waist and tossing you over her shoulder.

"mary!" you laughed, smacking her back as she slung the bag over her free shoulder, taking masons hand as you shook your head, accepting the fact you were being carried home.

"manchester is saved once again!"

#mary earps x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt #mary earps #woso

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