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cthulhus-curse · 2 days ago

Text

Cherry Waves

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 10,079

Warnings: Milf!Stripper!Wanda Maximoff, Teacher!Reader, Smut, Fluff | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: In which you meet the woman of your dreams in the most unexpected of places before a romance between the two of you blossoms.

The sight of yellow vehicles alongside bouts of snow and bleak, barely tended-to outer walls were triggers of disgust. They were constant reminders of a previous life filled with animosity, a time where the priority was survival, not living. Once as a child there was not much to cling to, ostracized and forgotten by peers who pitied faced experiences. Upon growing up, her life didn’t change for the better, but mostly the worst.

“Drop-off is right here, mom.”

At the sound of the small voice, Wanda shook her head. Her hands loosed over her steering wheel she didn’t know she held onto with mighty fury. “Thank you, honey. I almost missed it.”

“Are you okay?” One of the twins, the eldest by only minutes – Tommy – frowned at her words. “You look really tired today. When you dropped us off at dad’s earlier yesterday I thought you’d be sleeping a lot more. You gotta take care of yourself too, mom.”

“I know, sweetheart, thank you,” Wanda beamed at his words, bags hiding beneath messy makeup from the previous night underneath her eyes. Eyeing her twins from the rearview mirror, she couldn’t help but bask in the loving, short moments the three of them had. “Now it’s time to go to class, boys. I don’t want you to be late again.”

At his mother’s words, Billy grimaced. “Oh about that…”

“Yes?” Wanda didn’t miss the hesitation, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms upon her chest, small ounces of glitter hiding under her hoodie. “What’s wrong? Come on, you have about thirty seconds to spit it out.”

“Ourhomeroomteacherwantstotalktoyouaboutourtardiness,” Billy rambled. He didn’t wish to stay back, instead hastily opening the door of the backseat of the car before throwing himself out. “Bye, ma. Have a good day, love you!”

Albeit surprising, Wanda couldn’t help the way the ends of her mouth rose at the action. She turned to Tommy who broke out into a fit of laughter, following his brother’s steps as he slid out of the car with a patience much like his father’s.

“He said that our homeroom teacher wanted to have a meeting with you. We’ve been late a bunch of times. I tried explaining myself, but not even the principal was having it,” Tommy shrugged. “Now I get why you don’t like Mrs. Potts.”

The reason was much deeper than that. During her adolescence it was Pepper who made it her focus to continuously pick on Wanda through high school, even up until graduation day. Although the elementary school principal found it to be water under the bridge, each time she was forced to see the woman, Wanda found herself holding onto a constant reminder of her torture.

“I’ll take care of it, sweetie. You just go in and have a good day at school,” Wanda forced an exhausted smirk. “I’ll call later today and set up a meeting. And please make sure your brother eats his lunch, all of it. You don’t have to eat his veggies just to cover for him. Now go, honey, or else you’ll be late once again.”

Unlike his brother, Tommy took the time leaning in and wrapping his arms around his mother, even if in an awkward position. “I love you, mom. See ya later.”

“Bye, Tommy. Remember your dad’s picking you up today, it’s your weekend with him. I love you too, I’ll miss you!”

With the absence of her children for a handful of days, Wanda sighed. Weekends were by far the busiest times, especially as the holiday season loomed over. All she could do was slap her forehead against the steering wheel before dismally driving away, hoping to whatever universal power that she could get through the month in one piece.

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“Red, I need you to focus up tonight. You’ll be front and center while the new girl shadows you. Just show her how it’s done before going out and- Scarlet, are you listening to me?”

Distractions overtook Wanda as she shook her head, turning away from the lengthy mirror and towards her coworker. “Sorry, Ags. I was just…thinking.”

Agatha was the eldest at the club, only a few years older than Wanda and reeking with wiseness. She was something of the leader of the pack, forever ensuring the safety of the other girls, training new ones, and nurturing them all when required. It had been her who drew Wanda into the life of a dancer, promising to care for her and give her an easy way to get by while still present in her children’s life.

The divorce between her and Jarvis had been amicable, and yet living by herself caused her difficulty. As a former paralegal, a career she excelled at, Wanda chose to put her children first rather than her occupation. She was young when the twins were born with nowhere to go with her family having disowned her shortly after her high school graduation when they found her making out with her former friend. Back then Audrey had blamed her for it all, and given her rebellious phase being in full-force, her parents sided with the girl before dumping off their only daughter as though she was trash.

From then on it was Jarvis, her best friend since middle school, who had her back. Only their romance was short-lived, a mistake on Wanda's part who believed she could change much like her parents hoped, as their friendship thrived through adulthood instead. After all, they were much better as co-parents than a married couple.

“Get your head in the game, sweets. I need my best girl tonight. You and I both know that on Saturdays you’re all the boys want to see…and girls,” Agatha gave her a knowing look. “If you get enough tips tonight, maybe you won’t have to come in tomorrow.”

“I have to work anyway,” Wanda shook her head, finishing her makeup before staring at herself through the mirror. “I haven’t bought the boys’ Chanukah gifts. I know there’s over a month to spare, but I’m barely breaking even with what I used to make years ago. Nobody wants to see me, Ags, let’s face it. I’m…old.”

“Honey, you're barely halfway through your thirties. If you’re old then I’m a fucking dinosaur,” Agatha laughed. She stood behind Wanda, hands placed over her nude shoulders that squeezed lovingly. “Plus, you got the best tits in the club. You should be proud of the fact that men pay hundreds just for you to flash them.”

“I suppose that’s nice…I think?”

Agatha wasn’t one to easily take Wanda’s insecurities lightly. “It’s the best compliment I can give you right now. I’m running on a mix of Redbull and coffee that Carol made. So I’ll either stay awake for an entire day or die trying. Now come on, this girl Kate is waiting for the master to teach her a few tricks. Time to shine, Red.”

Meeting Kate, or Lucky as she named herself, was a forever reminder of the youth that escaped Wanda. Although she was barely clothed, only stockings covering her legs alongside knee-high heeled boots and a thin see-through bikini, seeing the younger woman in much less clothes made her become fueled by humiliation.

She showed her the ins and outs of the club, reminding the girl that her safety would forever come first. There was no doubt she’d do well – Kate was young and pleasing to the eye, everyone would fall to their knees for her as they had once done for Wanda. Now with a body carrying carved stretch marks, a painful scar across her abdomen that was a permanent reminder of the birth-gone-wrong of Billy, and rolls upon her tummy, the redhead wasn’t quite sure how to make ends meet. The day job she garnered much to Jarvis’ dismay, who offered to help pay her bills, somewhat allowed her to just get by. As if working dancing at the club wasn’t bad enough, during the days she threw on a uniform to spend lengthy shifts as a bagger at a local grocery store.

As they walked around backstage, Kate noticed a shining golden chain across Wanda’s neck.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” she pointed out.

Wanda didn’t need to look down as her hand involuntarily went to the Star of David that hung from her neck. “It was a graduation gift from my brother – the last thing he ever gave me, actually.”

“Oh? Well, where is he now?” Kate wondered with furrowed brows.

Since the day she was kicked from her home, her parents barred Pietro from getting in contact with his twin sister. Each day she only longed to see him again, even if for a smidge of a second. Throwing a sad smile towards the new dancer, Wanda shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

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The start of a new job carried numerous amounts of stress and anxieties, of hidden fears that you wished to push far down until their disappearance. You weren’t used to going out and putting in effort for anything, always living a sheltered life where anything you wanted was simply bestowed upon the palms of your hands.

Your dream of being a teacher confused your parents. They simply couldn’t understand why rather than taking over your father’s business, or perhaps becoming part of it, you’d choose to go out of your way and put more effort into a career when you already had one set in stone. Although they disapproved at first, it was relieving how they eventually came to be proud of you for molding your own path.

Of course no one ever told you of the stress teachers were put through on the daily, much less of the rather adventurous manners in which some decompressed after what had been a harsh semester.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ve never even been to one of these before. Trust me when I say you’ll have the time of your life.”

While you had only worked at Westview Elementary for a few months, you could easily feel yourself trusting Maria. She was a mathematics teacher with her room right across from yours, a quiet educator who during breaks made sure to bring out the life of the teacher’s lounge. It was the first person you had gotten close to at the school, that alongside the gym teacher Carol Danvers and her young assistant, Peter.

“Are you sure?” You eyed Maria incredulously as she pushed you through the doors of the club, smiling at her coworkers who followed along. “Have you ever been to a strip club?”

“Well, not this one, but I heard only good things about it. Their star dancer is something else,” Maria responded with excitement, “I, uh, have a bit of a thing for redheads.”

Although you didn’t know it then, it was a sentiment you too shared.

Entering the club was a rather out-of-body experience you had never lived through. Seeing the flashing lights amidst the darkness made you hiss from the sudden pain upon your eyes, but as they darted towards the main stage, they ended up widening.

Upon the first sight of a mane of red, you couldn’t quite easily shake away the feeling of longing and desire. It was your first time seeing her and yet you knew it was her you wanted. And nothing would dare stop you from getting what you wished.

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While your coworkers spent most of the night throwing loose bills on stage, Maria quite enthralled by a certain redhead which caught her eye, you remained rigid upon your seat. The once dancer that took your attention moved around the stage through her set, her outfit adorned by bills, some much larger than others, peeking through her waist of breasts that you felt guilty staring at for too long.

Even with the self-proclaimed Black Widow dancing by her, Maria’s eyes averted to your ragged state, frowning as you didn’t tear away from your focus. Smacking your shoulder playfully, she yelled at you through the music that drowned her out. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I was just…thinking I guess,” you shouted back, and yet never did you turn to Maria.

She took notice of this as she followed your line of sight. When she came to find what you were taken by, the woman smirked. “That’s why we came here. Apparently she’s very popular and, well, I thought you might like her. I would offer to get you a private dance but, you know, teacher’s salary…”

“It’s okay,” you fondly responded. Before your arrival you had taken the liberty to gather some funds for the outing. You never thought you’d use them all in one night, but you’d spend whatever you needed to get her to so much as look at you. “I think I got this, thanks. Just enjoy your night. Maybe I can get you a private dance with her.”

As the night went on, it was you who blessed Maria with a privacy dance from the Widow herself. You had enough money to spare, and seeing your newly found friend carrying a goofy smile as she was dragged backstage was far too enjoyable to constitute as a waste of your earnings. While growing up, your family had forever been well-off. With all that they gave you, you could easily retire without even needing to work.

There was hesitation on your part, but after a smidge of apprehension from a flushed Peter and a thumbs-up, he was who gave you the confidence to request a dance from the club’s most notable dancer. And as you sat in the dark, dimly-lit room with only echoes of the music booming through, all you could do was pray for it to be all you longed for.

Never had you been one to follow your instincts in such a way. The way the woman had drawn you when you first saw her was like no other. There was no feeling you could easily shake away, you way you’d voluntarily tear your eyes from her frame as you sought out her services. Surely you’d had flings here and there, but the passion you felt upon merely seeing her was unknown, a mystery to your soul.

As you rummaged through your own thoughts, you didn’t see the curtains of the small room be shifted as a huffing figure appeared. At least not until hands were placed upon your shoulders making you jump. “You’re far too tense, darling.” The voice drifted closer as a weight was pressed against your body. “Let me help you with that. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the little show I got for you. I promise you’ll like it.”

Even as the slow, sultry music began, you shut it out as a means to bestow your attention upon her. Your mouth lay agape, heavy breaths being ragged out as you got a better look at the woman. Her red hair shone upon the fluorescent lights, dark lips ghosting upon your forehead as she straddled your lap. Her chest was practically bare let alone for her see-through skimpy outfit that you attempted not to stare at too hard. With hands merely hovering over her hips, you were left in awe.

“I, uhm…” you didn’t find the right words, instead stammering out incoherent babbles as your face turned beet red. “I’ve never done this before, sorry. I’m not really sure what to do right now.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I can tell.” Her giggle made your racing heart catch its breath. “Just relax for me. I’ll take care of you. You’re in good hands, my dear.”

Sways hypnotized you without much effort. Melting against the faux leather couch, your arms were limp at each side of your frame. Flickering orbs were entranced by each slow movement. Scarlet, you had learned, carried herself with the utmost grace. She was a vision you mentally recorded, steady mannerisms recorded to be forever plastered upon the walls of your brain. Her alabaster skin was one that drew you in to so much as graze upon it, but the no touching rule was one you took to heart.

The tune was made for her dance. The woman, only slightly older than you, alternated between swaying on top of you before she mounted your lap, her nearly bare breasts brushing upon your face. With each passing second your arousal only grew. Being in close proximity to the goddess Aphrodite envied was intoxicating. You had paid dearly for the private session, but the tips you’d give her would be grandiose in comparison.

“You’re perfect,” you found yourself breathing out. Within the dusk of the room you still noticed stretch marks across her barely-clothed breasts, arms, and thighs, ones that you gawked out while drool was held back. “Just look at you. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”

Wanda had never been one to have such compliments thrown her way, especially not after having her children. “Careful, sweetheart, or else you may become a favorite client of mine.”

“Yeah? I’d like that. You have no idea how good you’re making me feel,” you groaned when Scarlet grinded upon your lap. She didn’t hesitate to grab hold of your hands before guiding them to her breasts, breaking her own personal rule only to allow you to squeeze the soft mounds. “I’m so glad I came here.”

There was a peculiar mark upon her abdomen that made you frown. A certain familiarity made you tilt your head as you absentmindedly felt your heart squirm for her. You didn’t make note of it, not daring to put her in any discomfort. Instead you did as she told you – leaning back, Scarlet was the one to take the reins for the rest of the session.

Much to your dismay, the dance ended as soon as it began.

“That was…wow,” you were at a loss for words. As you sat up on the comfortable couch, you thanked whatever higher power allowed the small room to hide your need-stricken features. “Thank you? I’m not really sure what to say.”

“Your gratitude is appreciated,” the woman laughed, carefully stepping away from your lap with a hesitation you didn’t notice. “Most people just slap my ass and ask me if I offer other services. Which in case you were interested, I don’t.”

Hiding your dismay was difficult, and yet you took your time to fully compose yourself before reaching out. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. I can’t imagine you getting to meet the loveliest people in a place like this.” Making small talk with the dancer would be losing her money, so rather than keep her busy, you handed her the remainder of the cash you brought with you. “I’m not really sure how much to tip, but I hope that’s enough. It’s all I have left.”

Looking down at the flurry of hundreds, Wanda’s eyes widened. Normally she had nothing but animosity towards her clientele, especially those who refused to treat her as anything other than a piece of meat, but she could there was kindness in you – something most individuals in the club desperately lacked. “Are you sure? This is a lot for just one dance. With this you could probably get the other services I was talking about with a girl down the street.”

“I’m not really interested in that,” you shrugged. “Just keep it, really. I hope you have a good night, Ms. Scarlet. Oh and happy holidays!”

You left before she could respond. Nearly running through the curtains and into the main area, you were glad your face was practically unrecognizable in the club. There was a deep need within you to go back into the lounge and make a move, to do anything to ensure you could see the woman again.

But as you saw Maria waving you down, you decided against it. At some point you wished your paths would cross again no matter what, even if it meant you returning to the club for a smidge of attention from the woman who caught your eye.

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“So you’re not coming to visit me?”

With your phone pressed against your ear, you huffed. It was almost the norm with your parents. Although loving, they were not ones to follow typical familial traditions, especially not those that surrounded the holiday season. Another year, another disappointment.

“Your father and I are really sorry, Y/N. He has to attend a convention in France and I’ll be-”

“It’s alright, ma,” you shrugged as though she could see you. Waltzing through the packed aisles of the grocery store, you refused to let anyone take notice of your true feelings. Instead you threw a box of cereal onto the cart, shaking your head before paying attention to your mother once again. “I’ll send out you and dad’s presents next week. I’ll prepare myself for another pair of fluffy socks from him, huh?”

“You know him so well.”

The two of you amicably chatted as you made your way across the store dumping essentials onto the basket – at times adding self-indulgent treats you’d surely down while watching whatever showed up first on your television or grading finger paintings with full marks for them all. At times your parents disappeared from your life, not even showing up when you moved into the town of Westview, even missing your college graduation and hoping to make up for it by sending you a postcard from Matla with a check you didn’t require.

Once you were done with your weekly shopping, you made your way towards the registers. Your eyes were downcast, the exhaustion from the days at the school catching up to you. Although you adored your students, at times they could be far too energetic for your liking.

“Hey ma I-” before you finished your sentence, your eyes widened. Staring at the register you made a beeline towards, you quickly pulled back. Rather than take another position in any of the slowly growing lines you hid behind a shelf, only the top of your head and your eyes peeking through to get a better sight at the woman who stood scanning various items. “I gotta go now, ma. Something came up. Tell dad I said ‘hi’.”

Opting to not wait for a response, your mouth was left agape as you hung up. There stood the one woman who had plagued your thoughts through the past week. The unmistakable scarlet mane was one you couldn’t easily forget, much less the tender features that lacked the smoky, dark makeup she wore on the previous Saturday night.

Gulping down a knot of surprise, you ran to the self-checkout line. You refused to allow her – Scarlet herself – to see you. As embarrassment coated your cheeks, you left the store in a rush, perhaps forgetting items on the way all for the sake of avoiding the sudden object of your affections.

Although you felt a sudden wave of humiliation wash through you, a part of you longed to see her again.

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On the day of the meeting with her sons’ teacher, Wanda opted to double her coffee intake in the morning alongside lexapro. The mere thought of being sent back to the one place she despised, her years from elementary through high school spent in constant torment, brought her back anxious thoughts she couldn’t easily shake awake. That alongside her lengthy shift at the club on the previous night would make it impossible to get through the meeting without backup.

She made her way through the disgustingly colorful hallways she knew so well, passing the lockers she was once shoved into even at her then-young age. Rolling her eyes, Wanda only wished to get it all over with, to leave before her shift at the grocery store began — she was already far too late as it were.

Of course she didn’t count on the familiarity of the face she saw through the small window of the classroom. Frowning, Wanda knocked lightly, all before stepping inside without daring to wait for an answer.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I had a long shift and I-”

“You?” As soon as Wanda heard the accusatory voice, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared up at you with confusion. Only a stammer later the words were salvaged. “You…you must be Tommy and Billy’s mom, welcome!”

When Wanda gazed at you, you gazed back.

Ever since the small incident at the grocery store, you found it nearly impossible to go through another day without the image of her, of Scarlet, grinding herself on top of you. Guilty washed upon your being as you came to realize its perversion. And when you thought you were finally safe, there came another version of her. You refused to believe a parent of two of your students could be the Scarlet, so rather than assume it was her third life, you imagined her to be some sort of twin much like her sons.

The two of you chatted amicably, your smile forced over your features as you refused to let her see any sign of awkwardness within you. She was…different from the woman, someone who you refused to compare to her. Her face lacked an ounce of makeup, hair pristinely put into a messy bun while she donned a classy, yet casual outfit that screamed that of a mother. Even then, you deemed her to be the most beautiful woman on the planet.

“And what is it that you do, Mrs. Maximoff?” You questioned, gulping down a knot of fear.

“It’s actually just Ms. Maximoff – I’m divorced,” she corrected. “And, uhm, I work overnight sometimes.”

“Oh that must be exhausting.” Of course it was, you had seen it firsthand. Mentally slapping yourself, you longed for the floor to swallow you whole.

You felt bad for putting her in a situation where she mercilessly fidgeted with the rings on her fingers, staring down at the floor “Yes, very. I also dance…at my job.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’m not a good dancer myself. I got two left feet,” you joked, shaking your head with amusement as you took in Wanda’s solemn expression. You couldn’t pinpoint where her reservations came from, her body tense as she stared down with cheeks tinting, their hue mirroring that of a tomato. It’s when you frowned, gave her another once over, and as your confusion grew you-

Oh.

“I know it’s not the most usual thing, but it helps me get by. It’s not easy being a single mom, especially when my ex lives very, very far away. The boys don’t know, obviously. I just…don’t really think it’s a conversation I could ever have with them. I’m not exactly ashamed of what I do, but I get it’s hard for people to take in.”

As she sat before you, you were left speechless.

Garnering your verbiage back had its difficulties. You jumbled through your words, the infectious anxiety making your head spin as your fear-stricken smirk flashed to her. It really was impossible to have any sense of normalcy when the dancer who had given yoh a private show sat before you.

“You look familiar,” Wanda frowned as she pointed out, and just about then you could feel and hear your fear racing. “Have we met before? Did you also go to this school?”

“Uhm no, I’ve lived in the city my whole life,” you choked out. “Maybe if we dim the lights a bit you might…”

“Oh my god.”

You never meant for her embarrassment to creep up as she looked blankly at you, and for a moment you swore there were small tears forming over her eyes. Wanda knew, she knew. Her life was easily broken up into three — her daily occupation, being a mother, and her shifts in the night that only her ex-husband knew about. Otherwise she made sure to upkep privacy for whoever long she could, never allowing her lives to spill onto one another, at least not until she met you.

“I, uh…” Wanda was at a loss for words. She knew she could trust you, she felt it as soon as she waltzed through the door as she easily spewed on her secret life. What she never expected was for you to know already, to have been with her in a rather intimate manner that she, surprisingly, didn’t regret. “I have to-”

“Please don’t go,” you begged, and Wanda stayed. “Fuck, I know this is going to sound weird, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. It was just a dance, I get it, but I felt…something.”

Wanda snickered trying to lighten the mood. “A lot of my clients feel that something, honey, but that’s not part of my job description.”

“No, no! Not that. I mean I felt a connection, which, yes, I realize might be dumb. I just haven’t been able to get you out of my head. Not in a weird, pervy way, but in a I-want-to-take-you-out-for-dinner way. And then I saw you at the grocery store and maybe I’m just romanticizing everything but-”

“You know about my other job?” For a moment Wanda imagined herself to have a stalker, but gazing into your eyes realized you’d be the first joyous threat she’d have.

“Point is-” you didn’t let her speak again out of personal embarrassment. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I can only assume discretion is really important in your line of work, and although that thing happened, we can just forget about it. Really, Ms. Maximoff. I’m not here to make your life harder than it has to be. And we already discussed the matter with your sons so, uh, I guess you’re free to go.”

Impulsiveness had always been Wanda’s undoing, but seeing you hold her up on a pedestal and being kind to a total stranger made her heart swell. “You’re sweet, darling. Does this mean I can still get taken out for dinner?”

And as soon as she spoke the words you thanked whatever early Christmas miracle ensued to give you such a wonderful present.

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As the holidays loomed over with December coming through in full-force, you found yourself to be lucky by Wanda’s side. It was strange, even awkward at first as you accustomed yourself to being around someone slightly older, much wiser and the mother of your students at that. You had become enchanted by her body, and yet it was her mind that made you fall each second, even if far too early in what you couldn’t even deem a relationship.

The first date you had went well. Even if you stammered through some sentences, something Wanda found endearing, her radiant smile never left her features. She had to find time from her busy schedule to go out with you, and even then it was a short-lived event before you drove her to the club before grabbing a snack at a nearby cafe. You wanted her to be safe, but even with a lack of words, only squeezing the woman’s hand tenderly, she knew what you meant. Watching her leave made your heart light itself on fire, yet you knew it wouldn’t be the last you’d see of her.

The second one was much longer, with Wanda inviting you to grab lunch with her after her shift at the grocery store. The twins were with their father that weekend. Between the laundry and cleaning around the house, she found time for herself for the first time in years. There was an unspoken air of guilt. Wanda hadn’t been one to settle for romantic relationships even after her divorce. The most she had were meaningless one-night stands that ended with her humiliation only increasing. Sitting across you from that restaurant table made her feel a sense of warmth she hadn’t experienced in years – if ever.

By the third date Wanda knew you’d make a permanent mark in her heart whether you chose to stay in her life or not.

“I don’t want you to pay tonight, really,” she said, shaking her head as she grabbed onto your arm. It had been weeks since you began going on dates, getting to know each other through numerous conversations had when she picked the twins up and texts when you weren’t together. While worried constantly over her financial situation, Wanda suddenly didn’t hesitate when it came to either you or the twins. “I got it. You’ve already paid for the last two dates and I-”

“I don’t mind,” you chuckled. The two of you made your way across a nearby town. It was a small one, not too far from Westview where the streets were decorated with numerous shining lights and decorations for the holiday. You dragged Wanda to a local movie theater you found, promising that whatever she wished to watch, you’d humor. “Have I told you about my parents?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, they’re basically rich snobs to put it lightly. I’ve been well-off my entire life, and I am not one that loves all that expensive luxurious shit. So it makes me really happy to pay. And if it makes you smile, then it’s worth it,” you held her close, still finding it strange to embrace her in such a manner. It was rushed, you knew, and yet you couldn’t care. “Please let me pay. It also makes me feel good to know I can spoil you rotten, pretty girl.”

Wanda held the door open for you when you arrived at the theater, shaking her head with amusement stricken upon her features. “Pretty girl?”

You didn’t miss the way Wanda’s eyes lit up when she was presented with the concession stand, remaining far back with wide orbs that longed for bouts of sweet and popcorn – it had been long since she last felt such child-like joys. “Yeah. You’re a pretty girl, Wanda. Hasn’t anyone told you?”

The answer was clear upon the phantom hiding beneath her face. Rather than delve into such darkness, Wanda squeezed your hand. Fingers interlaced themselves with your own as though it was second nature. “So, tell me more about your family. Then I’ll tell you all about mine.”

From the moment the two of you bought the tickets to the laughter you held at the concession stand as Wanda waddled off happily holding her snacks, you told her all about your life. There was not much to tell, not enough moments of adversity that you knew others experienced. For a third date you knew not to throw in details that would make her run for the hills, but also give her a clear view of who the real Y/N was beneath the shroud of an elementary school educator.

She received all the details about your upbringing – the pressure your parents forever put on you before it eventually dissuaded, the understanding nature of your peers when you came out to them, something that you noted made her flinch for a half-second. The one thing that truly caught her attention was the mention of a dog, a family pet who still resided in your parent’s place in the city.

“I had a dog once – Sparky was his name,” Wanda mumbled as the two of you sat in the dimly lit room with nothing but a few people scattered around. “I, uh, haven’t seen him since I was…”

Even as Wanda trailed off, her words dying and falling limp upon her lips, you had a smidge of an idea of what she meant. There was not much she told you, but from the slight information she threw your way each time you saw her, you knew there was no bridge built up between her and her family that wasn’t her children.

When the advertisements rolled by signifying the beginning of the film, your focus was on her. Wanda’s eyes flickered over the flashing lights of the movie, green orbs amazingly rising as you gawked with adoration. Squeezing Wanda’s hand, you softly ran your fingers over its back. Within the noisy dark room you could still hear your heartbeat alongside hers; it quickly became your favorite melody.

For the first time that night you shared a kiss with Wanda; and for the first time that night you realized love was something you finally earned, not given to you.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

On the last day of school you felt that for once in the last few months you could finally catch your breath. Snow trickled down the sky, freezing itself over the town that lay in a cold blanket of white. You shuddered each time you went outside, even if numerous layers covered your body – even a scarf Maria had been kind enough to knit you as an early holiday present.

Time was spent aimlessly lounging over your couch, the central heating of your apartment turned up to the max as you defrosted beneath numerous big fluffy blankets. Between the snowfall and paralyzing low weather, you could barely find the courage to leave the safety of your own place. Bingeing whatever movies or shows came on, you came to enjoy the quiet, lonely time with yourself. At least during moments where you, much to your dismay, had to separate yourself from Wanda.

During the nights she slept at the club you barely slept. Getting to know the woman meant slowly growing fond of her, your worry skyrocketing at the mere idea of her alone at such a place. There were guards, and Wanda promised you that the girls all looked out for one another, but you were well-aware of the dangers some of the clientele brought. Helplessly you tossed and turned each night until she sent you the one ‘got home safe’ text that allowed you to fall into a deep slumber with the knowledge you’d hear of her on the following day.

Christmas had never been a big deal within your family. The clear rifts between you all torn by your parent’s absence were far too large to cover with a simple commercialized holiday. While their refusal to visit your newfound home stung the depths of your soul, you knew to brush it off and pretend for it to be fine. You had done it as a child, it would not be difficult to carry out in adulthood.

Rather than throw your focus into a holiday you’d inevitably spend alone, you averted it to the newfound object of your affection. With each passing day since the beginning of Chanukkah Wanda not only feasted with her children, but received a gift from you.

“You should come over on Christmas,” Wanda offered you once through the phone. The twins were at their dad’s place, and during the time she was lucky enough to be free from her occupation, the two of you could, even if not physically, be together. “I want you to come over for Christmas.”

“Won’t you be at Vis’ place? I mean, I know you don’t celebrate but-”

You could hear Wanda’s smile even through the phone. “I’ll be home all by myself. I want to give the boys some time alone with their dad. He deserves time with them too.” There was a pause, and for a moment the skipped beat of her heart was deafening. “I know we’ve only met a bit ago but Y/N…I would be happy if you came.”

She knew of your parents, of the pain you hid which they elicited upon you each year. Wanda didn’t dare mention it unless you gave her the greenlight, and for that you were thankful. With her, everything felt lighter — it felt right.

When Christmas Eve came you didn’t notice the extra pep in your step. Your smile was not easily tarnished from your features, especially not with the snow piling up by the inches upon the ground. Carrying a mountain of gifts, you giddily drove down to Wanda’s place. There was a smidge of sadness within you knowing the twins would be present, but it had been her who urged you to wait. The last thing she wished was to be hurt again, and never would she put any ounce of love over that she shared for her sons.

Kicking at the snow on the ground, you traced the path you knew to be towards Wanda’s front door. The neatly wrapped presents, courtesy of your mother’s teaching, wobbled over your anxious, freezing hands.

“When I told you to come over I assumed you’d think to call me beforehand,” Wanda greeted you with a wide smirk, her head popping through the cracked door, a face full of makeup, while her body lay in the shadows. “Hmm but I have to say I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted. Going in for a kiss, you were disappointed for it to be only a small peck, but intrigued by the mystery of it all. “Is this a bad time?”

“Uhm a bit. I just have to rush to get ready, honey. I thought I had more time for it,” the sultry voice Wanda solely reserved for the club was in full blast, and for once you could happily listen to it without the backdrop of music. “You can come in, but I need you to close your eyes. I’ll let you know once I’m done, alright?”

“Anything you say.”

You’d agree to whatever she wished if it meant leaving the porch where your coat, pants, and boots were battered by the snow that grew into a violent hail. Once your eyes were closed, you were dragged by Wanda’s strong arms who left you waiting at the door atop the doormat. You couldn’t help the amusement that came out while you attempted to clean your boots without watching, all while you could hear the distinct sound of high heels clacking against the hardwood floor as Wanda seemingly ran away.

Patience had never been your forte, much less when you were fully aware of the secrecy Wanda was far too bad at hiding. From what you knew was her bedroom came a soft tune, and the urge to take a small peek only skyrocketed. You opened your eyes slightly, familiarizing yourself with the house you frequented when the boys were away, but as soon as you heard the woman rushing back towards you, you shut them.

“Keep them closed, baby,” Wanda’s voice was hypotonic. Even if you humored the idea of disagreeing, she wouldn’t allow you to. “Let’s leave these here and you come with me. Promise you won’t peek?”

As she took the load of presents from your arms and placed them by where her chanukiah lay, you nodded. “I pinky promise, Wanda. Now tell me what’s up. You know I’m terrible with surprises.”

Surely that was true, but as soon as you were thrown into her bedroom, your heart raced. Wanda let you sit atop a chair in the middle of the room, the lights dimmed out as you could tell through your eyelids. Breathing in an unmistakable scent of lavender, your nostrils were in heaven. The beat you previously heard came back, only in full blast and keeping you grounded in place.

Hovering before your sitting body, hands atop your own that gripped the armrests, Wanda’s lips ghosted along your face. “You can open them now.”

Before you were struck by lightning you were able to take a peek at the state of near-nudity Wanda was in. You knew her ‘outfit’ to be similar to those she wore in the club, only in your favored color which you knew full-well she had only recently bought. Her heels made her much taller, full breasts in perfect view before she swooped in like a hawk and claimed what was hers.

Kissing Wanda was intoxicating on its own, but when she kissed you, your brain short-circuited and awaited hours until a proper reboot. She took charge, a confidence she usually lacked soaring through her body as she cupped your flushed face with her hands. Fingers brushed against your burning cheeks, bloodshot nails leaving tiny marks you’d proudly carry.

Lipstick was smeared over her face, and yet you kept kissing as though your life was dependent on it. Her tongue swirled in your mouth easily, but as you came to your senses, your own fought for dominance. Hips were gripped, a small moan drawn out from the depths of her throat that awakened the animalistic being inside of you

“I thought I should give you an early Christmas present. You’ve done so much for me in these past few weeks,” Wanda hummed as her tongue swirled over your wet lips. “Let me help you now. Sit back and relax, sweetie. Scarlet’s going to make you feel so good.”

Seeing Wanda dance for others or even having her dance for you at the club was nothing compared to her doing so in the privacy of her bedroom — only a few scented candles shedding enough light on her voluptuous body. She swayed on top of your body, her ass grazing your lap before she grinded herself upon it. Hands lit by flames were everywhere. You couldn’t think, much less formulate proper verbiage to describe your ever-growing arousal.

The no touching rule was one you respected, but all bets were off as Wanda placed your hands on her hips and nodded your way. It was exaggerated for your own entertainment, but each time you groped or knedded any area of her body, she let out a breathy groan. Her backside was fondled, pulling her towards you only to capture her lips with a more forceful manner. You had yet to see her in a full nude glory, and yet the knowing stench of arousal drove you mad. You wanted, no, needed to have Wanda.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you couldn’t help but mumble. “Look at yourself, Wanda. I’ve never seen anything so perfect.” Grabbing both of her breasts at once, you squeezed tenderly until her nipples hardened and poked through the fabric of her loose bikini top. “I need you so bad right now. I need to…I have you, to show you just how beautiful you are.”

Running your hand over her stomach, admiring the adorable rolls upon it, you made her blush for once. “Behave, honey. You wouldn’t want me to regret letting you touch, huh? Be a good pet for me and do as I say.”

You tried, you really did, but there was no chance of success as you watched and felt her dance over you. Aphrodite’s jealousy over Wanda was rampant. The woman gave it her all. She climbed on your lap, holding your shoulders for balance, with a smirk across her features and her breasts keeping your face hostage between them.

With each minute that passed your need for her grew. She gave you a treat at least, allowing you to be the one to untangle the knot of her top with guided hands before it inevitably fell to its demise. When you came to see the beauty beneath the fabric, you nearly saw the light then and there.

Wanda unknowingly drove you to the brink of insanity as her nude breasts brushed against your body. Her hands did quiet work to remove your own clothes until you were left in nothing but your shirt and underwear. Kneeling before you, she placed kisses over your inner thighs, face nuzzling upon your skin as you licked your lips.

“I’m ready,” she told you. There was no need for further explanation. Instead you drew a hand down and tenderly pet her, Wanda leaning in to the touch in peace. “I need you now, Y/N. Won’t you be a good pet and-”

She didn’t finish her sentence as you grabbed a fistful of red hair and tugged her away gently. Throwing her over the bed, you didn’t miss the amused laughter that came from her as you removed the last few articles of clothing from your body.

As you climbed atop Wanda, she stared at you incredulously. “And what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart? Hmm where is this confidence coming from? Not that I’m complaining…”

“I’m returning the favor,” you breathed out raggedly. “You lay back now and relax. Let me make you feel good, baby.”

When you took off the remainder of her skimpy outfit, your mouth went dry as though the Sahara Desert resided within it. Exhilaration shot through your being as you stared down at Wanda’s shaved sex that she attempted to hide between hugged milky full thighs adored by stretch marks.

Hands traveled all over her skin, your eyes closing as you trailed your way across the map you’d forever remember in your mind. With each lingering touch her hips, with a mind of their own, gyrated. You could barely slide your fingers past the valley between her breasts without her crying out in pleasure. You were quickly obsessed with the responsiveness of her body. Tugging, squeezing, and groping her breasts drew the deepest moans, you found.

With your mouth dropping kisses over her chest, ensuring that you focused primarily on her taut breasts and hardened rosy buds, your hands went to wander off. One kept her hips steady, digits finding her stretch marks that you traced with their tips, all while your dominant hand moved towards the puffy, flushed area that glistened beneath the hold of her thighs.

“Let me touch you, Wanda,” you urged her, your voice husky and deep as though you swallowed a shot of her essence. Kissing your way up to her jawline, you let your tongue explore its way until her lips were swirled against. With her plup, wet mouth ready to be devoured, you towered the woman with all your might. “And you know we can stop whenever you want to. Just say the words, alright? I want to make you feel good — feel comfortable. You tell me what you want me to do, and I promise I’ll do it.”

While it took a few seconds to build confidence, Wanda nodded in awe of your own. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you…I need to feel you. I’ve been thinking about this ever since we saw each other, since I gave you the dance. I wondered what it would be like for you to fuck me. It’s embarrassing, but I have to admit the thought has helped me through some lonely moments when it’s just me in this dark room alone.”

At the implication you giggled. “Way to rub my ego.”

“You’re welcome,” she pecked your lips, foreheads mixed together as your fingers began descending over her glistening cunt. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you. I was looking forward to having you inside me.” With newfound conviction, Wanda tilted her head. “Don’t you want to fuck me, baby? Or would you rather I tell you about the countless times I’ve touched myself at the thought of you?”

That was enough to get you to absentmindedly begin rubbing Wanda’s cunt. Her bulbous clit was tender to the touch, but more so when it came to the arousal it elicited from the woman. The foreplay was not enough, even if with each flick her back arched and her pussy rubbed against the palm of your hand. Looking down at her gaping hole that oozed her juices, you knew it was the only way to sate your hunger.

You got Wanda aroused enough that her juices dripped onto the sheets. Your mouth continuously left multiple love bites on her skin that you knew she’d wear proudly in the privacy of her home, but was required to hide at work. Her legs were parted far enough to shyly wrap themselves around your waist and pull you closer; with a lack of words Wanda begged for more.

“Relax,” you said. “Everything’s gonna be okay, baby. I'll take good care of you.”

Forever maintaining your promises, you did as Wanda wished. When you first slid a pair of fingers within the confines of her velvety walls, you let out a loud grunt that matched your lover’s. She was tight, her cunt adapting to the adoring feeling of you stretching it out for your own amusement. From her ragged state you knew she wouldn’t last long, but you’d be sure to make the best of it for the sake of leaving a good impression.

“Oh fuck you’re so tight,” you spit out. “Baby you’re so warm. Your pussy is practically swallowing my fingers whole. Such a hungry little thing…”

“Y/N,” Wanda whined, brain hazy with far too much lust stricken over it. “More.”

“I’ll give you what you want.” You planted a kiss on her blushing cheek. “I’ll give you more, my pretty girl.”

Once she felt ready enough to take you, Wanda rolled her hips. It was a sign to let you keep going, to begin sliding yourself in and out, watching in awe as your hand dripped with her essence that coated your soul. You thumbed at her clit, stimulating it gingerly until you saw Wanda visibly relax.

Being inside Wanda was unlike anything you had experienced before. It was soft and sweet, wet and warm, but more so night and day — the time you could spend absolutely worshiping her until exhaustion inevitably took over. Moving within her was difficult as all you yearned to do was remain deep in place as you fell to your slumber atop Wanda; the two of you forever connected as one.

With a steady pace you set, you’d surely bring her over the edge in moments. Your teeth sunk into her supple breasts with love, marking them as though they were yours to own. Her moans against your ear drove your ambition forth. They were the push you needed to curl your fingers deep in her cunt until their tips hit her sweetest spot — with the howl Wanda let out, you were sure her neighbors would show up at the door to complain in minutes.

“‘M close,” she sobbed, tears of desire pooling at her eyes as she lazily began grinding herself down on your hand. “I’m gonna cum, I-”

With a searing kiss you shut her loud noises of desire down. Her walls clamped down around you, squeezing you tight as the knot in her abdomen loosed. A lengthy, powerful orgasm shattered itself through Wanda, leaving her breathless and without a sane mind to properly register the gift you bestowed upon her.

You were breathless messes clinging to one another for dear life. Wanda came undone, her clammy cheeks brushing your own as in her state of haziness she repeated mutters of your name. Her lips planted sloppy kisses on your, thanking you for the love you gave her – a happiness she lacked since her adolescence.

“That was amazing,” you spoke in her honor. “Did that feel good, baby? Are you okay?”

“I wanna go again,” she slurred – and for Wanda’s sake you’d do whatever she wished. “Please?”

Her pleas are what drove you further. You nipped your way down her body, her tummy rolls worshiped as they came from a true goddess you adored. Wanda’s insecurities from her slowly aging body were rampant, but you would never dare see her with anything but desire. To her she lacked the beauty of a younger woman, but to you she was the only one you could ever have eyes for.

At the first taste of her pussy you became addicted. Your fingers remained knuckle-deep within her, her walls warming them as you began timidly lapping at the wetness before you. The sweet nectar was one you’d grow you obsess over. She was delicious, your tongue just needing to burn against her sex rapidly as you sought out more.

“Oh my god!” She squealed. “That’s it baby, just like that. Your tongue feels so good- so fucking good!”

The words of affirmation turned your movements into vigorous ones. The tip of your tongue swirled over her clit before you took it between your lips. Lightly suckling the bundle of nerves made her upcoming orgasm intensify, Wanda’s hands gripping the bed sheets as she pounded her fists over them with a need for release.

Simultaneously you pumped your fingers in and out of her gaping hole with your tongue running across her flushed slit. The rhythmic grinding against your face did wonders to increase her arousal. It shot up to the sky when you so much as pressed at bulbous clit before allowing your teeth to delicately brush at her cunt.

“Cum for me,” you let out the muffled command with a mouthful of pussy. “Be a good girl and do as I say. Come on, Wanda. I know my sweet girl can do it.” Rubbing your thumb over her swollen clit, you nodded her way. “I got you, princess. All you have to do is let go.”

In your hold Wanda came once again, only this time her exhaustion took over as soon as the orgasmic wave grabbed a hold of her. She tossed and turned, screaming until the euphoria settled into normalcy. Hands shivered as her skin was set aflame. For moments you resided in your given place until she relaxed, and once you knew your lover to be blissed out, you gingerly removed your fingers – much to your dismay leaving her cunt gaping and searching for the fulfillment you handed out.

“You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you, Wanda,” you told her as you kissed your way up her body. Reaching her face meant lovingly nuzzling your forehead against her own, your lips coated with her juices that she tasted when begging for a chaste embrace. “Thank you for letting me do this, for trusting me with your body. You’re fucking amazing.”

“You’re even better, honey,” she murmured. Wrapping her arms around you, Wanda pulled you down until your head fell on the pillow you’d soon share. “I have something to ask you, but can you promise beforehand that you won’t freak out? It’s okay if you say now, I just…”

Wanda trailed off, making you frown in confusion as you interlaced your nude body with her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to be your girlfriend,” the redhead blurted out before stopping herself. Soon after the words spewed from her mouth, she averted her eyes, the blush in her cheeks intensifying by embarrassment. “If that’s okay, I mean.” She sighed, shaking her head at what she deemed a bout of stupidity. “We’re from very different worlds, you know that, but we still have so much in common. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks and look at us now. Here we are spending Christmas Eve together, you got the boys and me some presents for Chanukah and you’re…you’re amazing. I don’t know how else to describe you. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N, and part of me really hopes the feeling is mutual.”

“It’s incredibly mutual,” you replied, shifting down to kiss her neck right above her pulse point. “I want you to be my girlfriend. I know it’s dumb, but god I want to show you off so bad. Of all the people in the world you chose me. You, Wanda Maximoff, chose me. Now that really rubs my ego.”

With raised eyebrows Wanda shot you an amused look. “Wouldn’t you want me to rub something else?”

The two of you shared a mirror bout of laughter, clinging to each other with adoration. “We can work on your dirty talk if you’d like, but right now I’d rather take a hot shower with you. It’s almost time to light up the next candle. If it’s okay, could I help you with it? I know I’m a goy, but I want to celebrate this with you. Maybe I can watch?”

At the usage of the traditional term, Wanda beamed. “It’s best if you watch, sweetheart, but if you want to help out, I still haven’t wrapped the presents for the last two days so…”

“I’m on it!” You sat up straight, turning to Wanda and reaching out for her hand. “Now come on. I swear I’ll turn into a goddamn icicle if I don’t have a hot shower now.”

The final days of the holiday season you spent glued to Wanda’s side, and even as the beginning stages of your relationship passed through, you remained devoted to her even more than when you first saw who would become the true love of your life.

#cthulhus’ fanfics #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #lesbian #marvel smut #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #reader insert #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wlw smut

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thedeskofaltoclef · 1 day ago

Text

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

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xoxochb · 12 hours ago

Note

"can i wrap a fruit roll up on it?" with percy jackson

(its ok if you cant i js thought its super silly 😽😽)

HELPHELPHELP I LOVE THIS

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“want a piece?”

you hold out a small portion of your long fruit roll up. percy shrugs and takes it from your hold, eating it quickly.

you let your feet idly kick behind you, taking small portions from the candy one by one and popping them into your mouth. and you were a little too silent for percy’s liking— you were never this content unless you were up to something no good.

“are you gonna strangle me with that roll up?”

you furrow your brows. “I would never do such an awful thing. also the orange prison jumpsuits clash with my hair.”

“you told me that before,” he points out.

“I’m glad you listen when I talk.” you eat another piece, eyes averting back to your busy hands.

it’s quiet for another moment before you speak again. “perseus?”

“sweet girl.”

you bite your lip to stifle your giggles, calming yourself to speak. you let your chin rest on the palm of your hand. “can I wrap a fruit roll up on it?”

he opens his mouth for a split second, attempting to find the correct response to your nonsense statement. he closes it quickly, then reopens it again. “what?!”

“I can even eat it off if you’re into that.” your face remains stoic and serious. though the majority of your statements are serious.

“no! you’re not doing that, what if it gets stuck?”

you think for a moment. “then I’ll amputate it.”

“no! no, you’re not. get your fruit roll up away from my genitals!” quickly, he backs himself towards the headboard of the bed nearly afraid of you.

“percy, pleaseee,” you whine, rolling onto your back, pouting. “I will never live to experience the unreal joy of wrapping your genitals with my fruit roll up… and eating it off.” you sigh wearily.

he does not give into your advances.

“I’d let you lick whipped cream off my tits.”

he doesn’t respond. for one because you know that he would do that— and if you’re right that means he’ll never hear the end of it for as long as he lives.

“pleaseeeee?”

“no. let’s change the subject. I really liked those cookies you baked the other day, will you make more?”

“only you would talk about food in such a difficult time such as this.”

percy rolls his eyes. “give me that fruit roll up.”

he rips it from your hands, shoving the entire roll into his mouth. your mouth hands open.

“that was my fruit roll up!”

he only shrugs. you suppose in a way that says ‘mine now, too bad.’

and after this fiasco, you were no longer allowed to eat fruit roll ups or whipped cream.

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #percy jackson #pjo fandom #pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x reader #riordanverse #riordan universe

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district4loading · 2 days ago

Note

OMGGGG is there any way your could revive that fic 😭😭 somno fits sana so well and if were to turn this into a full request, can it be fem reader but can use strap hhdhehehehe thank uuuuu

Snooze (WLW)

Twice Sana!Sub x Female Reader!Dom

3K Words

Content Warning: smut, somno, praise, oral, fingering, strap, some fluff at the end

Minors DNI

A/N: Didn't plan on making this a full blown fic but anon asked so they recieved. Apologies that its so short. Enjoy!

Also i'm sorry but doesn't Sana look so pretty?

It's sick and twisted but for some reason, you like it.

"Sana, thats the weirdest thing I've ever heard you say" You look up from your phone to gauge whether or not the brunette was serious about what she just said.

Sure enough she had those expecting eyes fixated on you "It's not weird! It’s hot" She protests your comment, climbing into your arms like she usually did.

You were on the couch in your living room, scrolling on your phone when Sana came in and made a rather peculiar request. "You want me to fuck you while you're asleep?" She nods with a cute smile on her face and she hums in response "And you don't want me to tell you when I'll do it, or warn you before?"

Sana giggles softly when she sees the look of pure disbelief you give her "Listen you have nothing to be worried about, I want you to do it" She holds your hand in hers "and make sure i'm out cold, I literally want to wake up with your face between my legs"

"I don't know, what if you're not in the mood? Or-"

"Shh" Sana puts her finger over your lips then leans forward, removing them in the same instance to plant a small kiss on your lips "I assure you, I'll be in the mood"

So you agreed to it, fulfilling one of your girlfriend's wildest fantasies because you love her and you'll do whatever you can to make sure she's happy. Even if you think it’s a bit odd.

You waited a couple of days so it'll come as a complete shock to her. It's maybe one in the morning and you're more than sure that she's out cold but you think it wouldn't hurt to make sure. So you tap her arm a few times "Sana" you whisper. You take notice of her body and the way it rose, then fell with such gracefulness as she breathes in and out, the slow noise of it filling the silent room.

Then you shift a bit, getting on your knees so you can gently pull the covers off of her. She's wearing what she usually does to bed, a loose tank top and some shorts. You start to feel a bit of a rush as you watch her lay there, asleep with with no knowledge of what's to come.

Maybe it's not so weird after all

You touch her thigh, the soft warmth making you aware of how cold your own hands were and you start to worry that it'll wake her. It takes you a moment but you finally manage to get your hands on the waistband of her shorts. Your fingers loop under her panties too because there's no need for teasing. The only one you'd be teasing is yourself. So you begin to pull the pieces of clothing off, having a bit of a hard time because she's not awake to lift her hips.

Soon enough the garments slip down her legs and past her ankles and you toss them to the side. Your heart begins to race because the tension in the room is thick, like you're doing something you're not supposed to and if she were to wake up and catch you it'll all be over.

This fantasy of hers is something different, something you never thought you'd be into until now when you're faced with the opportunity—and you want nothing more than to touch her right now.

There's a bit of uncertainty in your movements, you reach for her legs and while you're opening them your hands are trembling. Your breathing quickens as you admire the sight of her perfect body before you, highlighted by the moonshine through the bedroom window.

You try your best to shrug off the nerves, then you position yourself between her legs. The moderate moistness isn't something you're used to at all. Usually, by the time you make it down there she's fucking dripping and soaked so bad that it's spread to her thighs.

However, you know it's nothing you can't fix. So you grab her thighs with your hands, refraining from squeezing them like you normally did so she doesn't wake up. Then you stuck your tongue out and flattened it against her cunt. You pause and look up. She's still asleep.

Ever so slightly, you drag your tongue up her slit, making a soft humming noise when the tangy taste attacks your tastebuds. Still no response. So you keep going as you normally would, swirling and flicking your tongue on her clit.

It only takes a few seconds for Sana to shift a bit. She tries to close her legs but you hold her a bit tighter so she doesn't. You pause for a moment, then you continue eating her out like you've been starving for her.

A soft hum escapes her lips and then her hips start squirming. You push your face deeper into her cunt, taking her clit into your mouth to suck. Then she gasps loudly, her head lifting weakly just enough so she can make eye contact with you. "Babe- what are you" Then you witness the exact moment the realization of what's going on hits her and it's priceless. "Oh fuck"

Her voice is rough and tired as she reaches her hands down to tangle your hair in between her fingers. You smile and remove your mouth then you climb over her so you're face to face. Your hand finds it's way to her sopping cunt and you rub slow circles before you connect your lips with hers.

Sana moans into the kiss, reciprocating it with some newfound strength, cause she has to reward you for doing so good. You prod her entrance with your fingers and you slide two digits inside. She breaks the kiss and moans out loud when you curl them "Pleasant surprise?" You question her with a smirk on your face as you pump in and out.

"Yeah" Sana nods frantically, all breathless with her words "I - fuck - I wasn't expecting it tonight" She moans again because you've found that spongy spot that makes her walls squeeze you tighter.

You leave a shorter kiss on her lips again "That was the point wasn't it?" You ask and she only hums, although it comes out sounding like more of a moan. You kiss along her jawline, then down to her neck "Did I do good?"

Sana can only nod her head and close her eyes "So good baby" She keens, her hips bucking into your hand as you fuck her faster and harder with your fingers. She's so wet that you can feel the slippery warmth dripping down your forearm. You think to yourself that this must've really turned her on, the thought of you using her in her sleep.

It's sick and twisted but for some reason, you like it.

She starts babbling incoherent words and you know it’s something she does when she's close. "Gonna cum for me baby?" You ask as her jaw goes slack and her moans go silent. There's only a faint, high pitched, whiny noise coming out of her mouth and she has that look of pure devastation in her eyes, like she’s cumming so hard that she almost can’t handle it.

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah" She mouths the words and then a very audible "Fuck!" and she's cumming all over your fingers. You can feel it inside, the way her walls clench and pulse in an erratic rhythm as her back arches. Her body stutters to a complete stop and then she goes rigid.

It's only a matter of time before... and there she goes, her body relaxes as the pleasureful waves wash over her and her moans turn weak and broken. You kiss her lips softly and she doesn't even try to kiss back "Now how was that?"

"I can't fucking believe... I came so hard" She tiredly runs her fingers through her hair. "I need you to do that more"

"I think I could get used that"

Now Sana's definitely got you into this shit.

By now it's almost been a month since you've had sex and it was really killing you. She's been working a lot, so you refrained from doing anything that could disturb her sleep. You only found yourself watching her at night, touching her cheek, her thighs and really any bare skin she had exposed. She looked so peaceful just laying there, breathing so slowly that you can barely hear it when she inhales.

It's exactly what you're doing right now. Her smooth skin feels so warm and soft on your palm and you don't mean to stare but you just can't take your eyes off of her face. How could someone look so pretty while they're sleeping? It's what you ask yourself every night.

You really don't intend to slide your palm higher up her leg, but you just can't resist her. Everything about her is almost too addicting. You need her. Need her creaming on your fingers, cumming in your mouth, writhing on your strap. and you need it now.

The sheets are covering her body, so you peel them off and almost immediately you feel that rush in the pit of your stomach. Then the feeling comes back tenfold, like more of a surge when you get an idea.

Maybe you're more sick and twisted than you thought you were because you crawl out of bed slowly and gently so she won't wake up. Then you go into your closet—where you have your toys stashed—and you grab this lavender strap on that you bought just recently. You haven't gotten the chance to try it out with her yet and nows a better time than any.

You pull off your clothes in the dark room, the sound of the fabric sliding against your skin so loud that you think it might wake her up. It's all in your head and you know it, but you still slow down your hurried movements.

Excitement courses through your veins as you think about how she'll react when she wakes up with your body on top of hers while you're inches deep. That unparalleled look of shock she gets. It has you fumbling with the straps as you try to get it on nice and tight. You crawl back into bed, the dip causing Sana to move just slightly.

She's sleeping like she normally does, on her side with her knees folded. You separate them so they're spread for you and you stop for a moment to see if she'll wake up. She doesn't. So you pull her shorts off, noticing that she isn't wearing any panties tonight. It's something she usually did for comfort reasons though, so you don't see it to mean anything more than that.

Still, it gave you easier access. You shuffle on your knees so you can position yourself between her legs and you reach for the lube on the bedside table. The toy is girthy and she isn't aroused right now so you don't want to hurt her. You coat the toy, and lather it up. Then you put some in your hand and gently you rub it on her cunt.

Sana hums then she takes in a deep breath and your heart drops because you think you've ruined everything. But then she's back to the way she was and you exhale in relief.

Now's the time, you guide the head to her entrance and you press it inside. Almost immediately her body has a reaction but it doesn't quite wake her up. An adorable whimper escapes her lips and the way her lips press together almost makes your heart flutter. You push your hips further inside, leaning over to get your body on hers and when you make it to the hilt you put your face in the crook of her neck.

It's around that time that she actually wakes up with a sharp gasp, her upper body trying to rise into you off of pure instinct. "What - Oh fuck... babe" She whines, dragging the four letter pet name out as you begin to move your hips nice and slow, pinning her body to the bed with yours. "Fucking hell - I can't.." She moans and you bite the flesh on her neck, a surge of arousal taking over your body while you rut into her.

"I'm sorry baby, I know you were trying to sleep... but I couldn't help myself" You mutter the needy words into her ear and she almost loses it right then and there. It's the idea that you can't control yourself when she's around you, so much so that you'll even fuck her and use her body while she's peacefully sleeping. In the back of her mind she knows you're only doing this because she asked, but it still has her clenching and dripping.

You kiss her neck and her arms sling around your back "Fuck, fuck, fuck" She chants in that breathless tone like she's struggling to handle everything. Your lips on her skin, your body on her body and most importantly this thick fucking toy stretching her out. You're ruining her.

"You weren't wearing panties darling, you have to forgive me it just seemed so easy, you should've known this would happen" You whisper it into her ear, really playing off of her little fantasy. It's sort of like role-play which is something she's also been into for a while now.

She gasps again and another choked up sob forces its way out of her throat. Sana is fucking loving this. The way this toy feels, stretching her, rubbing against her walls and hitting all the right spots has her going fucking feral. You know it because she's digging her nails into your back, scratching you so hard it'll leave red marks but you don't mind at all.

Sana's hips buck into yours and you finally bring yourself to pull your head up. Now you're facing her and the look on her face is nothing you've ever seen before. Her eyes are screwed shut and her eyebrows are upturned in the prettiest way ever. You observe her porcelain skin and the mole on her cheek, noticing the sheet of sweat which covers it. "Pl-Please don't fucking stop... don't fucking - Fuck baby it's too much" She pleads.

You only move your hips faster then you bring your hand down and you show her what "too much" actually is when you begin circling her swollen clit.

"I don't fucking.. I can't - You're so good, so deep in my cunt, so fucking good" She murmurs all the praise in the world, just make sure you know that you're doing a good job.

"Look at me princess" Your voice is steady and soft when you say it because her pussy is clenching so fucking hard on this toy and you think she might actually be trying to suck it in. Her eyes soon flutter open but they're only squinting "C'mon, let me see those pretty brown eyes" This time you're voice is a bit less steady, more shaky cause this is one hell of a workout.

Like the good girl she is, she opens them wider staring deep into your soul as you fuck her. "So pretty" You mutter, your breath hot against her face and then you lean in to kiss her "Want you to cum on this toy for me"

Sana nods her head when you break the kiss and she's staring at you again, those big beautiful eyes just begging for you to make her cum. She needs it so bad. So you keep going, pressing hard on her clit just the way she likes it and then "Fuck I'm fucking cumming baby, I'm fucking-" She cuts herself off with a loud high pitched squeal.

"There you go" You mumble, watching how her eyes roll to the back of her head as her body arches into yours. "Keep cumming for me, that's my girl" You keep it up and she begins to shudder, taking her bottom lip in between her teeth to bite down harshly. Her eyes eventually do shut and her body sinks back into the bed.

You let yourself lay against Sana's body, feeling the deep and heavy rising and falling of her chest as she catches her breath. "I never expect it" are the first words she sighs with a breathy giggle. Then she wraps her arms around your body, rubbing her hands over the scratch marks to soothe the welted skin "I'm sorry, I got a little carried away"

"I really could care less about that. I'd let you do it over and over again cause it tells me that I fucked you good" You lift your head to look at her. She smiles and you kiss her lips softly again "I love you" you mutter.

Sana can't hide the way she blushes when she says it back "I love you" She whines a bit and you wonder whats wrong "I don't wanna get up"

"Then don't" You mutter

The toy is still buried in her cunt, all the way to the hilt as you two stay like that. She doesn't seem to mind it at all. Sana only hums tiredly in response and the two of you stay like that for a while. It almost feels perfect.

#twice #kpop gg #sana twice #twice sana #minatozaki sana #kpop smut #kpop idol #girl group smut #sana smut #smut #somno k!nk #fem reader

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starlightsuffered · 2 days ago

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My Girl

A/N - wrote this bc I’m cold and I miss the sun also I had a dream about it

Info - fingering, friends to lovers, pda, a little sex, getting caught in heavy make out, tasting pussy juice, finger sucking

I popped a cherry into my mouth and noted how Timothée looked at my lips. The air was thick, though humidity was low. My ponytail brushed my shoulder as I turned to grab another piece of fruit.

I felt a tentative hand on my bare ankle. I pretended I didn’t notice. His thumb moved slowly over my skin.

Since winter, things had been very different. Timothée and I had been friends forever, but in December he’d become single again. On new years, he’d decided that we would kiss to usher it in. At that moment, everything had changed.

His moustache was gone, and his hair was now fluffy and tousled like it used to be. He’d been home spending time with his niece for a while. He hadn’t taken a new project for a while and I wished desperately that even a little of it was for me.

We’d reconnected in a heavy way. We spent days and nights together. He seemed to always be inviting me over. We shared bottles of wine and late night confessions. The alcohol always had us falling over each other with giggles. Then we’d take a moment and stare into the others eyes. Our friendship wore thin as one of us would inevitably push a lock of their out of the others face.

That was how we had lived for months. We’d walked that edge of the precipice so many times. I wondered if we were both waiting on the other to make the final move. I wondered if he’d find me less desirable if I broke first. I wondered what was taking so damn long.

“Would you rather,” he mused, picking up the game again.

We were having a picnic in the park. I wore a new sundress that he had barely removed his eyes from the entire afternoon. He was in jeans and over sized t-shirt. The sun had finally begun to warm New York City and he’d eagerly called me, begging for a picnic lunch in the fresh air.

“Kiss someone, or hug someone?”

“It depends,” I said, tilting my head to the side.

“Oh?” He asked as his fingers drummed on my leg. I wanted to pounce on him.

“Hugs are almost always good, kisses are only good with some people,” I shrugged. I threw a blackberry in my mouth now.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“What makes someone the right person?” Timothée asked in a dangerous voice. I gulped and looked up to meet his gaze.

“Someone who is kind, sexy, matches your energy, knows you well, cares for you the correct way…” I trailed off. I felt a burning between my legs even though this was just a conversation about kissing. He always launched me into neediness so easily.

“And am I-“ he sucked in a deep breath. If he was breathing harder, I wasn’t breathing at all. He was preparing, I could tell. He was closer to that precipice than he’d ever been. He was going to jump.

“Am I the right sort of person?” He whispered.

I leaned back on my elbows. Ever so slightly, I spread my legs. His grip became tighter on my ankle. His eyes darkened and he watched me as if I were stripping instead of leaning back casually.

“Yes,” was all I breathed.

He lurched forward, a desperate hunger in his eyes. My back hit our fuzzy blanket. His mouth was glued to mine. His large hands held my face. I was hot all over as our tongues danced together. I couldn’t have cared less who would see us.

His hand moved to my thigh and went up, lifting up my dress. I gasped into his mouth.

“I love you, fuck I love you, I’ve wanted this so long,” he heaved, he was panting as he grabbed at every bit of my skin. My leg wrapped around him. I pressed myself into the feeling of him, memorising it.

“I want you, I need you,” I repeated myself over and over. He mouthed over my neck. His long fingers crawled to my pink panties.

“Shit!” He sucked in a breath when he felt my wetness.

“You’re perfect, I can’t breathe, I don’t want to,” he told me. I was keening and arching as his deft fingers plunged into me. He curled them in my wet heat.

“You’re so pretty in this dress. I can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispered, kissing the hot skin of my clavicle.

I loved how he worshipped and praised me, as if he hadn’t been around a million celebrities. He could see me as less or not be interested at all. Yet, he touched me like one would touch a deity. I was in heaven.

“Mmmmm,” Timothée moaned as he lifted his digits to his mouth. His fingers were so slick. I watched him mesmerized by the beauty.

“Baby, you’ve got to taste yourself. Come on pretty girl, it’s ambrosia,” he coaxed. He looked love sick and hazy. He smiled dreamily as his finger were sucked by my needy mouth.

“Atta girl,” he whispered. He was kissing me again now. My bottom half was almost completely bare. The grass was on my ass and my dress was hitched up around my waist. Timothée’s hands dipped into the cups of my bra. He massaged as he kissed me and kissed me and kissed me.

“What are you two doing,” asked a harsh voice. A park ranger took in our heady gazes and the tent in Timmy’s pants, and the way I was scantily clad.

“Get up!” He snapped gruffly.

Timothée had Trouble moving from his hard on. He was pulling me along desperately. He’d left behind the blanket, the lunch, all in an effort to get to his car.

He whips open the door and pulls me on top of him in almost one movement. Out kisses are sloppy and hot. His hands are up my dress again. I could hardly catch a breath.

“Fuck me, there will be pictures everywhere,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he actually cared that much.

“Fuck that,” I giggled as I nipped at his lip.

“Fuck me,” he moaned, a request.

“Absolutely,” I agreed. I pushed my panties to the side and he pulled out his cock. I sunk down and settled into the place I was meant to be.

“My girl,” he groaned as I began to bounce and he began to thrust.

“My girl forever.”

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker

#reader insert #x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothée chalamet smut #timothee smut #my girl

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starberry-cupcake · 24 hours ago

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I FINISHED THE THING (part 2)!!!!!

The Polly Pocket Style Star Trek bridge for the Christmas tree is done!! I know it could look better, please be kind, I'm very tired.

I made the screens in acetate sheet (from a cake container, everything I used except the clay was re-purposed) so that the tree lights acted like screen lights, and made a couple holes in the ceiling (it's painted as well) to pop some lights through as well.

Here in read more are some process pics where you can see some extra details of the base painting.

The 3d ship things are made in cold porcelain, the figures and chairs are made in polymer clay and baked. I wish I had used sculpey instead of fimo but alas, I made choices.

Chekov lost an arm during the baking process, it was so tiny it got lost and I had to make a new one. Spock's ears had to be sculpted bigger than normal so that it didn't happen to him, that would have been more difficult to fix and we would have ended with a snw human Spock moment situation nobody wants to re-live. I was this 👌 close to making Jim in his cunty little green wrap outfit but decided against it in the end. Uhura has her ear piece painted on. I wish I could include my hand for size reference but my posts get blocked when I do that so, for reference, the figures are set for baking in tuna cans in the pic above. I'm not a fancy crafter but I'm a resourceful one, what can I say.

#star trek #star trek tos #my crafts #miniatures #miniature sculpture #gif cw #jim kirk #james t kirk #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #leonard mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #montgomery scott #nyota uhura #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #you all probably have fancy hallmark ornaments so this is very meh in comparison #but I did what I set out to do so I'm good

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okasuka · 1 day ago

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Bruce wayne x readerrr

a/n - i’m bored soooo…..basically bruce is a jealous hoe!!! 🙏🏽🙏🏽 man whore bruce is real

Part 1: Setting the Stage

The Wayne Foundation gala was a grand affair, hosted in one of Gotham’s most opulent hotels. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, reflecting the warm, golden light that bathed the room. Waiters moved seamlessly through the crowd, balancing trays of champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres, while the murmur of polite conversation mingled with the soft strains of a live orchestra.

You found yourself at the edge of the ballroom, observing the throngs of Gotham’s elite. Socialites, CEOs, and politicians mingled, their designer outfits and glimmering jewelry a testament to their wealth. You couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place among them, though you had to admit you looked stunning in the gown Bruce had chosen for you—a sleek, floor-length piece that hugged your figure perfectly.

Bruce was in his element, weaving through the crowd with the kind of ease that only someone born into Gotham’s upper crust could manage. He looked devastatingly handsome in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, his dark hair swept back and his piercing eyes scanning the room. You were acutely aware of his hand resting on the small of your back, a subtle but deliberate gesture that spoke volumes.

“Relax,” he murmured, leaning in close so that only you could hear him. His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine. “You look like you’re planning your escape.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, giving him a wry smile. “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich. “You’re doing fine. Just stick with me, and you’ll survive.”

“I don’t know how you do this,” you admitted, gesturing subtly to the room full of power players. “All this… posturing.”

“It’s part of the job,” he said simply, his expression unreadable. “But having you here makes it bearable.”

Before you could respond, a group of older men approached, all of them clearly eager to speak with Bruce. You stepped back slightly, not wanting to intrude on the conversation. Bruce’s hand lingered on your back for a moment before he reluctantly let you go.

“Don’t wander too far,” he said softly, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“I won’t,” you promised, though you weren’t entirely sure where else you’d go.

Part 2: The Invitation

As Bruce began speaking with the group, you drifted toward a quieter corner of the room, your eyes scanning the crowd. You spotted familiar faces here and there—prominent Gothamites whose names were splashed across the society pages. It was a world Bruce belonged to by birthright, but you still felt like an outsider looking in.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a striking blonde woman made her way toward Bruce. She was tall and elegant, her shimmering gown clinging to her figure in a way that left little to the imagination. You watched as she approached him with a confidence that only someone used to getting their way could muster.

“Mr. Wayne,” she said, her voice honeyed and smooth. She placed a hand lightly on his arm, her red lips curving into a practiced smile. “I’ve been hoping to get a moment of your time all evening.”

Bruce turned to her, his expression polite but distant. “Miss…?”

“Charlotte Sterling,” she supplied, her smile widening. “We met at the Metropolis Gala last year. I doubt you’d remember—there were so many people there.”

Bruce inclined his head slightly, a noncommittal acknowledgment. “Of course. Nice to see you again.”

“Would you do me the honor of a dance?” she asked, her hand lingering on his arm. Her tone was light, but the look in her eyes made her intentions clear.

You couldn’t hear Bruce’s response over the noise of the crowd, but you saw the subtle way his body shifted, a polite yet firm rejection in the making. However, Charlotte wasn’t easily deterred. She leaned in closer, her smile turning coquettish as she said something that made Bruce’s jaw tighten.

Your chest tightened as you watched the interaction, jealousy stirring in your gut. You told yourself you had no reason to feel that way—Bruce was here with you, after all. But the sight of the blonde so blatantly vying for his attention made your insecurities bubble to the surface.

Before you could stop yourself, you stepped forward. “It’s just a dance,” you said lightly, drawing both their attention. Your tone was calm, but there was a subtle challenge in your gaze as you looked at Bruce. “Go ahead.”

Bruce’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then his expression shifted, and he gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“If you insist,” he said, though his voice held a note of reluctance.

Charlotte beamed, clearly pleased with her victory, and led Bruce onto the dance floor. You watched as they moved together, the blonde pressing herself far closer to him than was strictly appropriate. Bruce, for his part, kept his posture rigid, his movements controlled and detached. But the sight still stung.

Part 3: An Unwelcome Distraction

You turned away, determined not to let it bother you. Bruce had made it clear that his interest was in you, not her. But the sight of them together lingered in your mind, feeding your doubts.

“Rough night?” a voice asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You glanced to your right and saw a man standing beside you, a drink in hand. He was handsome in a polished, generic sort of way, his dark suit tailored to perfection. His smile was charming, but there was an edge of smugness to it that immediately put you on guard.

“Not particularly,” you said coolly, taking a sip of your champagne.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his gaze lingering on you in a way that felt far too familiar. “You looked like you could use a distraction.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said, your tone dismissive. But he didn’t take the hint.

“Come on,” he said, his smile widening. “Let me buy you a drink. It’s a party, isn’t it?”

You hesitated, glancing back at the dance floor. Bruce and Charlotte were still dancing, though his attention seemed to be anywhere but on his partner. The man beside you followed your gaze, his smile turning sly.

“Let me guess,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Your date ditched you for someone else?”

“That’s not what happened,” you said sharply, your irritation flaring.

“Hey, no judgment,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “His loss, if you ask me.”

You frowned, debating whether to walk away, but the bartender chose that moment to appear, and the man seized the opportunity.

“Two glasses of champagne,” he said smoothly, sliding a bill across the counter.

You sighed, deciding that humoring him for a moment was the easiest way to get rid of him. “Thanks,” you said flatly as he handed you the glass.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked, leaning against the bar as he watched you.

“Not interested,” you said, your patience wearing thin.

“Come on,” he said, his smile unfaltering. “No need to play hard to get.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise, low and dangerous. “She’s with me.”

Part 4: The Confrontation

You turned at the sound of Bruce’s voice, your breath catching at the sight of him. He stood a few feet away, his imposing presence enough to send a ripple through the surrounding crowd. His expression was stony, his dark eyes fixed on the man beside you with a glare that could cut steel. The easygoing charm Bruce often displayed in public was gone, replaced by a simmering intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

The man beside you blinked in surprise but recovered quickly, his confidence undeterred. “Oh, I didn’t realize,” he said smoothly, though there was a slight edge to his tone. “She didn’t mention she was taken.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering to you for a brief moment before returning to the man. “She shouldn’t have to,” he said coldly. “Now, I suggest you walk away.”

The man hesitated, his eyes darting between you and Bruce. You could see the calculation in his gaze, weighing his options. Eventually, he shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, man. No harm done.” He smirked at you, his tone turning smug. “Enjoy your night.”

As he walked away, Bruce stepped closer, his tall frame towering over you. His hand found your arm, his grip firm but not painful. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now but still laced with tension.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your heart was still racing. “He was just being annoying.”

Bruce’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to gauge whether you were telling the truth. Satisfied, he exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But his hand remained on your arm, grounding you.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he muttered, almost to himself. “That won’t happen again.”

You frowned, sensing the guilt behind his words. “Bruce, it’s not your fault. I’m not some helpless damsel. I can handle myself.”

His lips quirked up in a faint smile, but there was no humor in it. “I know you can,” he said quietly. “But I don’t like seeing other men trying to take what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone made your cheeks flush, though you weren’t sure if it was from irritation or something else entirely. “I’m not a possession, Bruce,” you said, your voice firm.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, his brows furrowing. “I just—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he shook his head. “Forget it.”

You sighed, your irritation fading as you saw the vulnerability beneath his carefully controlled exterior. “It’s okay,” you said gently, placing a hand on his chest. “I get it.”

He covered your hand with his, his touch warm and steady. For a moment, the rest of the room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. But then a voice broke the spell.

“Bruce,” Charlotte said, appearing at his side with a curious expression. “I was wondering where you ran off to.”

You stiffened, your hand dropping from Bruce’s chest as Charlotte’s sharp gaze flicked to you. She didn’t bother hiding her disdain, her red lips curving into a thin smile. “I see you found your… companion.”

“Charlotte,” Bruce said curtly, his tone clipped. “Excuse us.”

But she didn’t budge, her smile widening. “Don’t be rude, Bruce. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, and you glanced at Bruce, wondering how he would handle this. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding.

“This is Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “She’s with me.”

The simplicity of his statement shouldn’t have affected you as much as it did, but the way he said it—firm, unwavering—sent a warmth spreading through your chest.

Charlotte raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “I see,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension. “Well, it was lovely meeting you, Y/N. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her head held high. You exhaled quietly, relieved to see her go.

“Sorry about that,” Bruce said, his hand finding the small of your back once more. “She’s… persistent.”

“You don’t say,” you replied dryly, earning a faint smirk from him.

Part 5: The Dance Floor

“Come on,” Bruce said suddenly, taking your hand. “Let’s dance.”

You blinked up at him in surprise. “You hate dancing.”

“I’ll make an exception,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before you could protest, he was leading you onto the dance floor. The orchestra was playing a slow, romantic melody, and couples swayed gracefully around you. Bruce pulled you close, his hand settling on your waist while the other clasped yours.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said softly, feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

“Yes, I did,” he replied, his voice low. “I needed to remind everyone who you’re here with.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

His lips quirked up in response. “And yet, here you are.”

The two of you moved in sync, his steps smooth and confident despite his earlier claim of hating to dance. His grip on you was firm but gentle, and you felt yourself relax in his arms. For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

His gaze softened, and his voice dropped even lower. “You’re the only one I care about in this room. You know that, right?”

The vulnerability in his tone caught you off guard, and you felt your heart swell. “I know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I feel the same way.”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. “Good.”

Part 6: The Public Declaration

As the song came to an end, you noticed people staring—not just at you and Bruce, but at something behind you. Turning your head slightly, you saw the man from earlier standing at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes fixed on you with a look that could only be described as smug.

Bruce followed your gaze, and his expression darkened instantly. Without a word, he released your hand and strode toward the man, his movements deliberate and controlled.

“Bruce,” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

The man noticed Bruce approaching and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Can I help you?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

“You’re done here,” Bruce said coldly, his voice low enough that only those nearby could hear.

The man smirked, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Relax, Wayne. It’s a free country. I’m just having a good time.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might throw a punch. But instead, he turned back to you, his dark eyes burning with determination. He crossed the distance between you in three long strides, and before you could say a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

The kiss was intense, possessive, and left no room for doubt. You felt the heat of his lips, the press of his body against yours, and the undeniable message he was sending to everyone in the room. When he finally pulled back, the room was silent, all eyes on the two of you.

“She’s mine,” Bruce said firmly, his voice carrying across the room. “And that’s not going to change.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. In that moment, nothing else mattered but him.

Part 7: The Aftermath

A stunned silence hung over the ballroom. The weight of Bruce’s words—and his public display of affection—seemed to freeze everyone in place. You could feel dozens of eyes on you, whispers beginning to ripple through the crowd like an electric current.

Bruce, however, seemed entirely unbothered. His hand found yours again, his grip firm and possessive as he led you off the dance floor without a second glance at the stunned onlookers. The man who had been hitting on you earlier had disappeared, likely realizing there was no room for negotiation.

“Bruce,” you hissed under your breath, your heart still racing. “What was that?”

He didn’t answer until you were out of earshot of most of the crowd, pulling you into a quieter corner near the tall, gilded windows that overlooked Gotham’s skyline. Even then, his gaze remained fixed on you, dark and intense.

“What was what?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

“You know what I mean,” you shot back, gesturing toward the dance floor. “That kiss! The whole ‘she’s mine’ thing! Everyone saw.”

“Good,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Let them see.”

You stared at him, equal parts exasperated and flustered. “Bruce, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

He stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room. “It’s not about proving anything,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “It’s about making it clear. I won’t have anyone thinking they can come between us. Not him, not Charlotte, not anyone.”

You searched his face, trying to read the emotions swirling beneath his carefully controlled exterior. There was jealousy there, yes, but also something deeper—fear, perhaps? The idea that he could lose you seemed to unnerve him more than he was willing to admit.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you said softly, your tone gentler now. “I already chose you, Bruce. I always will.”

His expression softened slightly, though the tension in his jaw remained. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve lost too many people I care about. I can’t lose you, too.”

Your chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his words. You reached up to cup his face, your fingers brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. “You’re not going to lose me,” you said firmly. “But you have to trust me, Bruce. I can handle myself.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if drawing strength from you. “I do trust you,” he murmured. “It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

You smiled faintly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “I noticed.”

Part 8: The Gossip and the Retreat

Before Bruce could respond, a familiar figure approached—the head of the Wayne Foundation, a sharp-eyed woman named Evelyn who always seemed to be juggling a thousand tasks at once. Her expression was carefully neutral, though you could see the curiosity lurking behind her professional demeanor.

“Mr. Wayne,” she said politely, her gaze flicking to you for a brief moment before returning to him. “I hate to interrupt, but the press is starting to ask questions.”

Bruce straightened, his businesslike mask sliding into place with practiced ease. “Let them ask,” he said coolly. “They’ll get the same answer as everyone else.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Understood. Shall I handle the follow-up?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes. Make it clear this isn’t up for discussion.”

“Of course,” Evelyn said smoothly before turning to leave, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

You exhaled, glancing around the room. The whispers hadn’t stopped, and you could feel the weight of countless stares on your back. “We’re going to be the talk of Gotham by morning,” you muttered.

Bruce’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Let them talk.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head.

“And yet, here you are,” he said, echoing your earlier words with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you easing slightly. “Let’s get out of here,” you said. “I’ve had enough of being a spectacle for one night.”

Bruce didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

Part 9: The Car Ride

The car ride back to Wayne Manor was quiet, the hum of the engine and the soft rustle of the city outside the only sounds. You sat beside Bruce in the backseat, the close confines of the car making his presence feel even more intense. He hadn’t let go of your hand since you left the gala, his thumb tracing absent circles on your skin.

“Are you mad?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, startled by the question. “What?”

“About what I did back there,” he clarified, his tone unusually uncertain. “If I embarrassed you—”

“You didn’t embarrass me,” you said quickly, cutting him off. “I was surprised, sure, but… I wasn’t mad.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Good.”

“Bruce,” you said softly, leaning closer. “You don’t have to be so afraid of losing me. I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “It’s hard for me to believe that sometimes,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “When you care about someone, it feels like you’re just waiting for the moment they’ll be taken away.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice. You knew he wasn’t just talking about you—he was thinking about his parents, about everyone he’d lost over the years. You reached up to touch his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated firmly. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore, Bruce. I’m here, and I’m staying.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond, his dark eyes searching yours. Then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. You could feel the tension in his body slowly ebbing away as he buried his face in your hair.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“You deserve more than you think,” you whispered back, your arms wrapping around him.

The car pulled up to Wayne Manor, but neither of you moved to get out right away. For the first time that night, the world outside felt distant and unimportant. All that mattered was the two of you, together in the quiet of the moment.

Part 10: Arrival at Wayne Manor

The grand gates of Wayne Manor opened slowly, the sleek black car gliding up the winding driveway. The tension from the night had eased, but there was still a quiet intensity in the air between you and Bruce. He held the door open for you as you stepped out, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he guided you inside.

Alfred was waiting in the foyer, his ever-composed expression giving way to a subtle smirk as he took in your intertwined hands. “Ah, Master Wayne, Miss Y/N,” he greeted warmly. “I trust the gala was… eventful?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but you beat him to it, flashing Alfred a weary smile. “You could say that,” you said, shrugging off your coat. “Let’s just say we made a bit of an impression.”

Alfred’s gaze flicked to Bruce, his eyes twinkling with quiet amusement. “I take it the city’s socialites will have plenty to discuss over breakfast tomorrow?”

Bruce grunted noncommittally, steering you toward the living room. “Good night, Alfred.”

“Good night, sir. Miss Y/N.” Alfred’s voice carried the faintest hint of teasing as he disappeared down the hall.

Part 11: Unspoken Tensions

You sank onto the plush sofa, kicking off your heels and leaning back with a sigh. Bruce stood nearby, his arms crossed as he watched you. His tuxedo jacket was gone, the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone, making him look less like Gotham’s billionaire playboy and more like the man you knew beneath the mask.

“You’re still brooding,” you pointed out, breaking the silence.

“I don’t brood,” he said automatically, but the slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed him.

You arched an eyebrow. “You’re practically radiating brood, Bruce.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. Instead, he moved to sit beside you, his gaze searching your face. “Did I cross a line tonight?” he asked quietly.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Why are you so worried about that?”

“Because I don’t want to push you away,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I—” He paused, his hands flexing in his lap as if he wasn’t used to saying these kinds of things. “I don’t always know where the line is with you. I’m not used to… this.”

Your expression softened, and you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Bruce,” you said gently, “you didn’t cross a line. I was surprised, sure, but not upset. I know why you did it.”

His eyes darkened. “That doesn’t make it right.”

You sighed, shifting closer. “Look, I get it. You’ve been through so much, and I know it’s hard for you to let people in. But you don’t have to protect me from everything, Bruce. I’m not going to disappear because of some overconfident guy at a gala.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on your joined hands. Finally, he said, “You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this.”

“Like what?” you prompted, your heart thudding in your chest.

“Like I can breathe,” he said simply. “Like I’m not alone.”

The raw honesty in his words took your breath away. You leaned in, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re not alone,” you said firmly. “Not anymore.”

Part 12: The Kiss Revisited

Bruce’s eyes flicked to your lips, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he closed the distance between you, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. It wasn’t like the kiss at the gala, which had been about making a statement. This was different—deeper, slower, and meant only for you.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. You could feel the tension in his body, the restrained intensity that always simmered beneath the surface. But there was something else, too—a vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads resting together, you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re really bad at subtlety, you know that?”

Bruce chuckled softly, a rare sound that made your heart flutter. “I never claimed to be subtle.”

“No kidding,” you teased, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “But I guess I like that about you.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Because I don’t plan on changing.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he murmured, echoing your earlier words with a smirk.

Part 13: A Quiet Moment

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other as the events of the night faded into the background. The crackling fireplace cast a warm glow over the room, and for the first time that evening, you felt completely at ease.

Part 13: A Quiet Moment (Continued)

Bruce’s arms tightened around you, his chin resting on top of your head. “You know I’d do anything to keep you safe,” he said quietly.

“I know,” you replied, your voice soft. “But you don’t have to carry that weight alone. You’re allowed to lean on me too, Bruce.”

He was silent for a moment, as though letting your words sink in. “I’m not used to that,” he admitted. “Depending on someone else.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on his chest. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m stubborn,” you said with a small smile. “Because I’m not going anywhere, no matter how hard you try to scare me off.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you teased lightly, your tone taking the sting out of the words. “But seriously, Bruce. I know you’ve lost a lot. And I know that makes it hard for you to believe that someone might actually stay. But you don’t have to fight so hard to protect me from everything. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I know you are,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “That’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

You blinked, surprised by the rare compliment. “Bruce Wayne, are you getting sentimental on me?”

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” you said with a grin, leaning up to kiss him again.

Part 14: The Morning After

The next morning, you woke to the soft light of dawn streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Bruce’s bedroom. You stretched lazily, the events of the previous night coming back to you in a rush. The gala, the drama, Bruce’s possessiveness—it all felt like something out of a dream.

You turned to find him already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to you. He was shirtless, his broad shoulders bathed in the golden morning light. He seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the distant skyline.

“Good morning,” you said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his expression softening. “Good morning.”

“You’re up early,” you noted, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shook his head slightly. “Too much on my mind.”

You scooted closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “The way I acted last night… it’s been bothering me.”

You frowned, your arms tightening around him. “Bruce, we’ve already talked about this. I wasn’t upset.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I can’t stop thinking about how I handled it. I let my emotions get the better of me.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, your lips lingering against his warm skin. “You’re allowed to feel things, Bruce. You’re not a machine.”

He sighed, his hand covering yours where it rested against his chest. “I just don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you. Because I do.”

“I know you do,” you said gently. “And I trust you too. But we’re going to have to work on this together. You can’t keep trying to shield me from everything.”

He turned slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. “I’m not used to having someone like you in my life,” he admitted. “Someone I care about this much.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words. You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “You’re not alone anymore, Bruce,” you said softly. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you admitted with a small smile. “But it’s worth it.”

Part 15: Moving Forward

The two of you spent the rest of the morning in quiet companionship, the heavy emotions of the night before slowly giving way to something lighter. Bruce seemed more at ease, his usual guarded demeanor softening in your presence.

Over breakfast, Alfred couldn’t resist making a few dry remarks about the spectacle at the gala, but even he seemed pleased to see Bruce in better spirits.

“You know, sir,” Alfred said as he cleared the dishes, “it’s not every day you publicly declare your affection for someone in front of half of Gotham’s elite. Quite the statement.”

Bruce shot him a withering look, but you just laughed. “I think the headlines are going to have a field day with it.”

“Let them,” Bruce said, his tone resolute. “I don’t care what they say, as long as you know how I feel.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached across the table to take his hand. “I do,” you said softly. “And I feel the same way.”

For the first time, Bruce smiled—a real, genuine smile that lit up his usually stoic face. It was a rare sight, but one that you cherished deeply.

As the day went on, you found yourselves falling into an easy rhythm. Bruce still had his walls, his brooding tendencies, and his fierce protectiveness, but there was a newfound openness in him that gave you hope for the future.

You knew it wouldn’t always be easy. There would be challenges, misunderstandings, and moments of doubt. But as you stood by his side, you couldn’t help but feel that together, you could face anything.

After all, Bruce Wayne wasn’t just the man you loved—he was your partner, your equal, and the person who made you feel like you could take on the world.

And you knew, without a doubt, that he felt the same way about you.

A/N - sorry this was ass guys 😢

#dc #dc comics #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #fluff

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blooddrinkingbartender · 3 days ago

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Bill was still smiling softly at that. He had remembered that day well, even if Cassandra had eventually passed out from the mesmerism he had forced onto her. Luckily, he was able to pretend it was just her being tired from 'Santa Claus' Magic' (as he told Russell) making her happy.

The memory slowly faded out into something else. He almost wanted to tell it to stay, so he could remain in that moment a little while longer. Older again. Not much younger than he was now. There she was, shouting behind him as he walked out of the front door. She was close behind.

You selfish piece of shit! After everything I've done for you, you're just going to leave your poor old mother behind?! How fucking dare you?! None of your brothers would have done this to me. Why, out of all of my children, did you have the one to live?! Why can't you ever think of anyone other than yourself?!

"I'm, I'm sorry, mom..." Russell no longer sounded upset or afraid as he said those words. He just sounded resigned, like he was tired of life itself. He attempted to soften the blow, "It's, it's not you, I, I just wanna see, see other places..."

Oh you'll see plenty of other places if you even fucking live. I hope you die out there and the last place you see are those fucking trenches! Because no one else is going to want you! Nowhere else is home! Home is here, with me. Everywhere you go, everyone is going to hate you eventually and then you'll come back, to me, where you belong!

"She said home was with her, but no, it , it never, it never was. I don't, I don't belong anywhere, not, not even with her. M-maybe I, I was being selfish... but, I, I just didn't want to come back to, to more of how she, she treats me. I'm, I'm a coward I know, but it, it wears you down..."

Bill had been sitting outside, whittling as Cassandra slammed the door behind Russell, still ranting and raving even as she walked away. At least by this point, he was too big for her to drag him outside by his ears anymore.

"I did tell him she wouldn't be happy," Bill said to Jonathan, "She can't manipulate or hurt him if he isn't there after all. Of course, I didn't like the idea of him leaving for good, but it's his choice to make."

I said she wouldn't be happy, boy...

"I told her if, if I survived the war, I, I wasn't planning to, to come back home to her... I, I honestly thought she, she might have been happy to, to be rid of me, Bill," Russell said, "I know you, you don't, you don't want me to go either."

It's not that I don't want you to, lad. I'm just going to miss you. Besides, it's your choice, I can't force you to stay.

"I, I mean, you, you could if, if you really wanted, but then there would be, be the risk of, of messing my, my brain up," Russell continued.

And even if there wasn't the risk, I wouldn't force you into that. It's why I've never tried to make you think better of yourself. You've got to do that on your own, without anyone having to scramble your brain and force you.

"I'll, I'll still come, come back and see you, and, and write to you, you know, if I survive..." Russell said, before he then seemed to remember that this was just a memory. A shadow of what things gone by, "I, I had been told to, to join the forces on, on the front... and, and I just accepted with-without question, I, I was going to head out in, in a few days...."

"He wanted to get away from her," Bill said, "He essentially signed a death warrant because he wanted to get away from her. I should have killed her from the start, but no, I thought he already didn't have one parent, I probably shouldn't take away the other one. God damn it..."

"I... I think I... I need a, a break... I'm, I'm sorry..." Russell said then, "I, I know we've, we've not, not seen much but... I'm, I'm sorry..."

Pathetic. That's how it felt. Like he was giving up before they had even really gotten started. But it was feeling like it was running over a bit much, like a pot that couldn't hold enough of the water being poured in. Seeing these images that were so foreign and yet so familiar.

{Jonathan felt his heart warm up at as he listened to both men speak - the fondness of the memory was clear as day, for a moment he could feel the earlier somber mood lift. A part of him was grateful that Dr.Swansea went for a more lighthearted line of questioning, hopefully this would prove useful to restoring Russell’s memories.}

{Dr.Swansea looked pleased to hear the reply he received from the young man, pausing to think yet again as to what else he could inquire on - he eventually spoke.} “Could you tell me something about yourself that you shared with someone close and they didn’t take the news well?” {He asked, wondering what kind of reply he’d get from this line of questioning.}

{Jonathan couldn’t help but quirk up a brow at the question, he found it… oddly specific? But he trusted his judgement, perhaps it had merit to it as specific questions require specific answers and those answers could just be what Russell needs to remember who he is.}

#vampyrs-and-witchers #No need to apologise at all #I'm glad you're feeling better #Frisky Barkeep | Bill #Flightless Moth | Russell #Bound Blood | Vampyr Verse

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yu-huuuu · 3 days ago

Note

Hello if may request a madara who has crush like what steps he may go through for his plan to win them over. in the era of the hidden leaf time line (๑`✪̤◡✪̤)◞ღԵհɑղƘՏღ

[🌸] heheh-- This was funny.

genre: bad romantic comedy

warnings: Izuna lives because I say so. We want everyone alive and happy :b, fem!reader (I don't think the gender of the reader was mentioned…? Ahh, I don't remember pipi).

Summary: How to Win Over Your Crush in 4 Simple Steps — by: Madara Uchiha, feat: Three Idiots.

...

“Four is good luck.” Hashirama had started. “Maybe it would be a good idea if we helped you woo her like in the old days.”

Tobirama interrupted his older brother. “You mean that strange courtship of the ancestors of courting someone using four steps…? I thought four was bad luck.”

Hashirama replied with one of his characteristic smiles to his younger brother, “Yes, but I think it only applies to those who live in the south of the country.”

Izuna, being almost an unconscious idiot, spoke up, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Madara sweatdropped at the stupidity of his friend and brother. “… We live in the south,” he muttered.

…

-- Step number one: he would get to know her tastes.

Madara didn’t know how to start a conversation with you the first time he met you. And it’s not like he was an idiot or anything, he had talked to higher-ups and the heads of other villages before.

He was the fucking leader of the most powerful clan along with the Senju clan, the Uchiha clan.

That's why he couldn't forget that the first thing he said to you out of nerves was: 'I like your headband'... but, it wasn't even a headband! It was a hair ribbon!

And despite that silly mistake of his, you laughed or were you laughing with him...? No, you were definitely laughing at him.

But a part of him didn't care that you laughed at him, your smile combined with your laughter was a charming sight. Too bad it wasn't because of one of his unexpected and witty responses that made you laugh. What surprised him the most was that you decided to stay and start a short conversation with him despite his pathetic attempt to talk to you.

Unfortunately, you were just visiting that day at the Hokage tower. Being the second cousin of the Senju brothers you grew very close to them, becoming very close to both brothers.

When he told his brother and—mistakenly—his closest friend's younger brother along with the latter of them about his desire to court you, they decided to help him.

He turned to see where his younger brother was hiding. The fool simply gestured with his only available hand to encourage him to approach you, while the other held a few sweet breads he was eating that the idiot had bought with his money.

'Glutton', was Madara's first thought. But was he really going to blame him? After all, he was the first one who offered to help him.

“In order to really get to know someone you must know their likes, big brother. That way you'll know that person deeper.” That had been one of Izuna's pieces of advice.

Madara sighed as he watched your back. Tobirama had been the one who had made the meeting possible, bringing you to the front of one of the first restaurants that had been built after Konoha was founded.

According to the little information provided by the youngest of the Senju, it was one of the restaurants you frequented the most.

Taking all the courage he could muster, he slowly approached you. Vaguely, he wondered if you remembered him, for Kami's sake, what if you told him you didn't remember him?

He knew he was being dramatic, but he would surely die right then from embarrassment.

With a shake of his head he shook those thoughts away. “Don't think that way, Madara-.” He told himself before a soft voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, it's you.”

Uh-oh.

Almost comically, Madara turned to you. For your part, you feared for a moment that his neck would break from the abrupt way he turned to you.

All because he was looking at his dumb younger brother, he didn't see that you had turned around and saw him standing there, looking back like an idiot.

Madara stood still, the poor man having a short circuit; he wanted to say so many things at once, but he couldn’t say them. Was it this nervousness? It was most likely.

He reacted when he realized with embarrassment that he had been left with his mouth hanging open. With a loud snap, he closed his mouth trying to find the right words to start talking, but he just couldn’t find them.

Madara would have scolded himself again, but a small snort caught his attention.

Oh-, you were laughing…

At him… again.

He felt the heat overwhelming his cheeks, he belatedly realized that he was blushing… and oh my god, he was acting like a fucking teenager!

He swore that in the background he could hear his brother laughing and choking on whatever he was eating now.

“Do you want to go eat with me?”, you asked, getting him out of his mind with your pretty voice; Obviously, you were oblivious to his thoughts or your surroundings.

Madara nearly choked trying to answer and, luckily or by a miracle, he managed to answer you, “yeah, sure,” although he spoke a little louder than usual.

The embarrassment he was feeling was enough to make him wish he was swallowed by the earth, Madara Uchiha wanting to be swallowed by the earth… What kind of nonsense and lie was that? He swears that no woman ever managed to put him that way, he was supposed to be the one who put them that way.

And yet, here he was wanting to bury his head in the ground while he followed you inside the small but cozy restaurant.

“And tell me… What things do you like?”

…

Hashirama had a serious expression, if someone had seen them from afar they would have thought they were talking about something serious, politics or something between clans.

However, that was very far from reality.

“Women like to feel special—”

“I know, I had lovers in the past”

“And that's why— wait what.”

Madara felt a strong urge to sigh when he saw his friend's stupid face, looking at him as if he had grown a second head, or as if he had said something like “I'm going to rule the world. If you want to stop me, you'll have to kill me” and then magically survived that battle and hid underground for sixty years planning some kind of revenge with an abandoned child and a creature of dubious origin. The thought made him roll his eyes, as if he was going to do it.

“I had lovers in the past… Did you think I was some kind of social retard?”

“Yes… I mean no—, of course not!”

He raised an eyebrow, Madara was beginning to doubt his friend's abilities. The fact that he had a wife seemed a little unbelievable to him now.

Was this a government social experiment? Wait what.

Hashirama sighed before speaking after a long while. “She likes conversations that can bring out her wit, you know?”

“…I think her ideal type is someone who can flow with her, and who answers with the same kind of wit… at least that’s how she’s been since we were kids”

Madara was absorbing every ounce of information his friend was giving him about you. A little you seemed adorable to him, although truth be told, you were already adorable. “I can imagine,” he said as a subtle, amused smile crept up his lips.

“Oh, believe me, she sometimes got on the older ones’ nerves when she brought out her wit”

His smile softened as he imagined a little you fluttering like a little butterfly among the adults and graciously answering what they said to you. Madara wondered to himself: if he ever had children with you, would they be just like you?

“I can handle it”

“… liar.”

Madara didn't waste his time denying that, after all you and he had agreed to meet at the field that was at the southern end of the village. His heart began to pound with excitement just thinking about meeting you again, he just hoped he wouldn't get as nervous around you as the first time.

...

-- Step Two; ‘Romantic’ Dates

“Alright, listen up,” Izuna spoke up interrupting whatever Tobirama was going to say. “Now you’re about to dive into dangerous waters–”

“You talk like he’s about to enter a battlefield, it’s just a date.”

“Says the one who’s never been on a date in his life.”

“You son of a–”

Madara let out a snort of annoyance, these two weren’t helping at all.

“Listen,” Tobirama exclaimed with annoyance evident in his voice and face, “it’s nothing to be alarmed about, the only thing that changes is that they won’t be friendly dates, they’ll start to be more romantic and serious.”

“Yes, it's something like this,” Izuna said pointing at the drawing of a staircase (?) he had made on the ground, “you are here,” he said pointing at step one, “where the dates to get to know each other better begin… then you will be on step two at the kissing part and ask her to be your life partner,” his brother's voice became dramatic.

“And… what does the last step mean–?”, Tobirama asked pointing at the last step.

“Stay away, Satan!”

Madara looked at them with a disturbed face as he watched them talk about… he honestly didn't feel like repeating it in his mind, he didn't want to see you like that. At least not yet, you looked so pure that the idea of corrupting you hurt him… in more than one way.

He simply walked away trying to get rid of the new thoughts that began to torment him. He looked at the sky, it was beginning to get dark, there was still time.

His walk was slow but sure, some passersby stopping to greet him politely as they passed. Madara wasn't surprised, being the leader of the Uchiha Clan it was normal for people to show him respect.

Vaguely, he wondered if you accept being his, Would you feel uncomfortable if people and civilians bowed to greet you? It would be normal for you to feel that way, knowing you and your status. He could almost imagine your cute face awkward as you walked beside him.

No, surely you would overcome that. You are a strong and amazing woman, you deserved more than a pathetic nod as a greeting. To Madara people should kneel and kiss your feet to greet you.

Although, you probably wouldn't agree with that. You are such an amazing and gentle woman, that your mere existence in this corrosive world shouldn't exist. But you are also a woman who because of her status wasn't that important to her clan.

He grimaced.

But as soon as it appeared, it disappeared when he saw you. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, causing a small smile to appear on his normally stoic face.

Well, if your status doesn’t mean anything now, he’ll definitely make it so in the future.

“How are you?”

…

-- Step Three: ‘Gifts and always Showing Trust’

“What, you don’t know what else to give her?” Izuna asked carelessly as he munched on an onigiri.

“No,” he replied as he tried to think of what to give you as a sign that he was fully committed to you. In the Uchiha clan, there was this tradition where the man had to give you something meaningful as a sign of commitment and loyalty to the other person, though he vaguely wondered if you would understand his gestures since you weren’t part of the Uchiha clan.

“What about flowers?”

“I already gave her flowers before.”

“Second date?”

“No, third date.”

Izuna hummed as he tried to think, “Oh… and what about those western sweets? You know those so-called… chocolates.”

Madara fell into thought, what if you didn’t like them? They were new to the people of Konoha, several people hadn’t liked them — mostly elders — because of the exotic taste.

But you were an adventurous spirit, he was sure you wouldn't mind trying it.

He smiled before ruffling his brother's unkempt hair, who choked a little at the movement. “Good idea,” he congratulated him before quickly moving away from the boy before he could hit him.

Madara walked quickly to the only store that currently sold those so-called chocolates, already feeling excited to see your reaction.

When he entered the soft aroma of pastries hit his nose, surely you would like this place. With a confident step he approached the counter, focusing on the small sign that was next to the chocolates. ‘Heart-shaped chocolates’ was what it read, although he felt a little confused when he saw the shape of the chocolates… they weren't heart-shaped.

He knew this, because seeing hearts outside the body of his opponents was not strange to him. Although, surely, the ‘shape of hearts’ was a Western thing.

“I want a package of heart-shaped chocolates,” he asked the girl behind the counter without bothering to look at her.

When his order was ready, he paid for it without looking back as he tried to think of how to give them to you without looking weird. Maybe on your next date he could give them to you, but, that might look too forward on his part.

“Oh, hello, Madara.”

Madara stopped, you were in front of the door… you were going to…

Were you going to enter?

He wanted to hit himself right now. Of course, being the person you were, you were surely the first person to have tried them when you entered the village.

“Did you buy chocolates?” you asked amused as you looked at the bag and then at him. He couldn’t blame you and you clearly weren’t making fun of him being a man and it was a sin for him to like sweets. Of course not, it was because he had told you in the beginning that he hardly liked sweet things.

“… They are for you,” he said as he handed them to you, almost shy, yet, showing himself confident.

“Oh…”, you managed to articulate before taking the package of chocolates, you looked at the bag between a mix of amazement and surprise before looking at him and smiling tenderly. “Would you like to enjoy them with me?”

…

You were so excited, your body exuded happiness infecting him in its path, “Isn’t it amazing?”

“It definitely is,” Madara replied with a smile looking at you with adoration.

Your first painting had been sold. It was a simple painting but so beautiful, although in his eyes everything you did was beautiful.

When he heard the news from Hashirama he had almost run out to congratulate you. It was an achievement, it was your achievement, that’s why he was happy.

“I… I still can’t believe it was sold! Honestly, it’s so ugly I can’t believe it, haha!” you laughed, though Madara’s smile disappeared when he heard your comment about your work.

Ugly? That was the last term he would use to address something you’ve done. “I don’t think it’s ugly, I think it’s beautiful and special just like you.”

How cheesy.

Well.

At least it worked… that is, if your blushing face and star-like sparkling eyes told him anything.

Ha, take that Tobirama, who said he couldn’t praise and be cheesy at the same time.

…

-- Step four; ‘confess’

Madara’s hair fluttered, the wind ruffling his long black locks. He wondered if he looked disheveled.

He wanted to formalize what he had with you. In his eyes it was time. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, your smile, the look in your eyes, the way your face lit up when you saw something you liked or when you looked at him.

You had him under some kind of spell. Not that he was complaining about this.

“Madara!” your voice called out to him. And as lovely as ever you approached him, trotting gently. Your hair fluttering behind you, like a beautiful waterfall of the rich color of your hair.

He said your name when you were close to him. “I’m glad to see you,” he paused for a moment to organize the next words he was going to say. “I want to tell you something.”

Your head tilted slightly to the side as a curious look flooded the beautiful color of your eyes, adding a spectacular shine as if a fairy had put that shine there making him fall even more in love with you. “Oh, about?”

Madara felt his hands sweat, making his heart flutter. Why was he so nervous? “I would like to formalize this.”

He looked at your beautiful face, watching as your expression filled with surprise. “You… want… what?”

This confused him, why did you look so doubtful?

However, without wasting another moment, he continued: “I want to make this formal. I want to get serious with you, I want to love you and I want to conquer you more and more every day… if you give me permission to do so. I don’t promise to be perfect… just like I don’t ask you to be, I only ask that you allow me to call you mine and that you allow me to stay by your side.” His quiet, serious, yet almost gentle voice came out trying to lull your ears.

You looked at him as he held his breath, afraid that you would leave and push him away, or even afraid that you had overstepped your boundaries. Did he do something wrong? Did he overstep your boundaries?

Why were you not answering him?

It wasn't until a moment later that felt like an eternity that you finally smiled. Such a beautiful smile… full of life and beauty.

It was at that moment that he allowed himself to smile too. There were no words, no explanations or confirmations of anything.

He knew that the two of you would be together no matter the circumstances.

…

Epilogue::

“Have you loved others?” you asked softly. Your voice, almost like a siren's song that echoed in the sounds of the forest. Your eyes like two precious gems shining in the moonlight.

“Have you?” he asked in the same tone as yours, looking at you where you had settled. You were close to where his heart is, an appropriate place when it comes to you he thought.

“Yes…”

“… Yes”

You confessed as if you were both confessing some teenage stupidity.

“Did you know I wanted to court you?” He asked you after a while.

“Huh? Oh, you talk about that. Tobirama told me the first day we met in front of that restaurant”

“… I’m going to kill him”

You snorted clearly amused. “No need, he helped me sort out my feelings”

“… I guess he’s saved this time”

Your soft giggles like an angel's songs that warmed his heart and brightened his soul, making him feel alive. He pulled you closer to his chest, feeling warm and loved.

And for that moment, which could perhaps be the last, he truly felt at peace.

…

3157… 3157 wORDS!

anyway! i wanted to do something different :D, like… a one shot style writing but following what my lovely anon asked me haha :3 it’s nice to be back!! please reblog and give me a big heart 🪭❤️

Ily guysss!! You always make me happy❤️❤️❤️

#naruto #naruto shippuden #madara x reader #naruto madara #madara #madara uchiha #konoha founders #uchiha madara #clan uchiha x reader #clan uchiha #yuhuuuu #with love your little bunny 🐰#<3333 #sorry for disappearing #ily guys #thank you so much #mhwa #*kisses your face*#madara uchiha x reader

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wutheringvibe · 3 days ago

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Let my suffering be for love, my joy be in love, my purpose be love. Let me leave this world with nothing left to give, my love spent like the last coin of a beggar who believes in something greater than hunger.

…….……

I will love, and I will love until it burns holes through me, until there’s nothing left of me but the love I leave behind. That is my work, my worship, my reason to rise. I will love like an open floodgate, like the ocean spilling onto the shore, refusing to be contained. I will love desperately, overwhelmingly, so much that even the stars will envy the way I give myself away. It will hurt, it will hollow me out, but it will also fill me, spill over, and remake me every single day. I will love in excess because that is how I was made, not to withhold or measure but to give without keeping score. My love will not wait for reciprocation or acknowledgment. It will simply be. I will care for the world, for the people who stay, for the ones who leave, and for the ones who pass through like strangers brushing shoulders on a crowded street. I will care in the unseen moments, in the way I remember someone’s favorite song or the way I pour tea just the way they like it. I will love in the small, quiet gestures, in the way i memorize the scent of a place or how i keep the smallest of promises. Because I was made to pour myself out until my hands are empty and my heart is light. To love is to live is to be holy. I will love so deeply that my care will not need a name, it will seep into your being like sunlight through cracked glass. I will feed you with my hands, write your name in the steam on winter windows, and leave pieces of myself sprawled all over your life. I will hold my love up like a mirror to the universe and dare it to meet my gaze. I will love with the ferocity of someone who knows that this is what they were built for, that this is their life's work. When I meet God, I want to stand before him with my heart worn thin from giving, with hands that tremble from holding so much. I will show him what I did with the love he planted in me, the joy it brought, the wounds it left, the emptiness it sometimes filled. That my love, my suffering, my joy, all of it, was woven together in a tapestry so intricate that even he would pause to admire it. I want him to understand that I loved so much it broke me, that I loved so much it healed me, and that in every moment, I stayed true to the love he made me carry. I want to be able to say, “I gave it all away, and I do not want it back. I loved the world, I loved them all, and I loved myself too in the end.” And even if I have to show him my scars, if I have to say, “This is what it cost me,” I want to meet his gaze without regret. I want him to weep for what I gave and to tell me it was enough. If there’s suffering in my love, let it be holy. If there’s joy, let it be boundless. And if there’s anything left of me when it’s all done, let it be the kind of love that echoes forever, the kind that even time cannot erase.

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voidspiraling · 2 days ago

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What do you think about the Red pupils in alien stage? Because when I first see them I think it’s just an Ivan trait, but in a few shots, Till has them too. Specifically when it’s related to Ivan. I would think it’s stress because of the fact he was stressed when Luka was manipulating him, but there’s also the Metor shower scene where he’s the happiest we’ve seen him at. Also! Thoughts on the comic where Till says “Because of you Mizi won’t play with me anymore?” And Ivan says that it wasn’t Mizi playing with him it was him? Like, what do you think that comic could mean on both their relationship + how Till loves Mizi? Cuz I think it’s interesting that he’s in love with her because of her smile and her presence but mistakes Ivan for her

Hiiii Srry for the late reply I had finals weeks and was dying. Thank you so much for your ask I’m happy to talk abt red pupils and the comic!

Red eyes are super interesting in IvanTill.

This is the first shot from R3 we get of baby Ivan, and his eyes naturally have the red dot in them. Usually they’re a darker color so his eyes look black most of the time.

So I disagree with the theory that the aliens experimented on Ivan’s eyes to turn them red. His eyes have always been red, you just don’t notice it unless you boost the saturation and contrast. Or have super strong eyes ig. HOWEVER.

Ivan’s eyes get redder when he feels strong emotions. This is the comic showing his final thoughts, here he is likely feeling jealous that Sua was able to be in a mutually requited love with Mizi. It’s almost like his entire world is turned upside down. What do you mean the girl who is so similar to me is able to find happiness? Why couldn’t I? Why is she so happy and I’m so miserable when we’re both the same? So we can associate bright red eyes with intense feelings. Just like how the color bright red can mean intense love but also extreme danger. Now let’s talk about when Till’s eyes are red.

The first time in canon is the infamous meteor shower scene. It’s one of the happiest times we see him. In this moment I think the red pupils represent the happiness and love he feels for Ivan. I’ve talked abt the red sky before but I’ll briefly say that this bright sky is a pivotal moment in both of their lives. It’s where their love was almost fully realized (in my delusional eyes) before being ripped to pieces. Remember red means love but it also means danger. So when Till’s eyes are red it means he’s feeling an intense emotion related to Ivan, bc Ivan naturally has red eyes. In this scene it’s probably love that he is feeling intensely.

Now let’s look at R6 Till, his eyes are red here too but it’s not out of happiness but of heartbreak. I wanted to talk abt this later so I’ll keep this short. But isn’t it strange that Till was so defeated after Mizi disappeared. She wasn’t even confirmed dead but he was already at his lowest. I think the real reason he stopped singing wasn’t just bc he was sad abt Mizi, but bc he didn’t want to win against Ivan. Losing his idol made him realize that the only person he has left is Ivan. It’s like a reality check for him. (Honestly if Mizi somehow won R5 I feel like he’d still throw the match but I’ll explain my delusions separately.) Anyways in this moment right before Ivan kisses him, he is probably shocked at seeing Ivan. Remember Till doesn’t realize that Ivan loves him, he probably attributes Ivan’s weirdness around him as something he does out of hate rather than him trying to get the attention of his crush. So seeing him also throw the mic away and stand so close to him was surprising but also comforting in a sense. At least the last face he sees will be Ivan.

Now onto R7, this is I think the brightest red we see in Till’s eyes. I think this is bc his world just ended hours ago (however long the time between rounds is idk rlly all I know is that R6 and R7 happened the same day.) All the ppl he grew up with died, he doesn’t know what happened to Mizi, and he’s up against the Ruler of the Stage. But here his eyes are red when Luka impersonates Ivan. Again his red eyes likely represent the deep heartbreak and sadness he feels about Ivan. After Ivan’s sacrifice and kiss Till has to re-contextualize everything Ivan has done. I think also it forced him to confront the red sky that haunted him (ie: missed chance at freedom, finding happiness with Ivan) there was a lot of red scenes and red lights during R7 that reinforces this idea.

Overall red eyes are Ivan’s signature, but it’s easy to miss bc it blends with the black of his eyes. Ivan also wears a lot of black you can barely see any red on him. But Till who cares a lot more abt Ivan than he’s willing to admit, notices the red in his eyes. So when Till’s eyes turn red it means what he’s feeling is connected is related to Ivan. We don’t see Till’s turn red when thinking abt Mizi.

There is one exception however.

It’s in R2. Now this could just be thematic, Till just killed an alien living in his guitar. HOWEVER let’s pretend it’s more than that. Red eyes represent Ivan bc he naturally has red pupils. BUT the color red represents Till. He’s got bright red pants, dark red gloves, blood red on his pants and he’s seen cherishing and holding red flowers.

Methinks Red is Till’s signature color bc Till likes the color of Ivan’s eyes. (And if you think abt it pink is just a lighter shade of red hehehe…)

To answer your question red eyes are an Ivan thing bc he was born with red eyes. But red eyes on Till means he’s looking at Ivan meaningfully, acknowledging his own feelings for Ivan it could be positive feelings or negative feelings. But considering that Till’s eyes turned red from being depressed over Ivan, I think Till has mostly positive feelings for Ivan.

Now part 2!

This comic is basically Till threatening (failing to threaten rlly I mean look at Ivan’s face XD) to punch Ivan in the bathroom bc he believes Ivan was somehow the reason Mizi wouldn’t play with him. You can find the translation on Twitter by @WhataFruit.

Ivan’s response was basically what the hell are you on Mizi never played with you in the first place. Then the small text is him saying I was the one who played with you.

On Till’s side the real reason Mizi doesn’t play with Till, is bc she thinks Till doesn’t like her. She likes how artistic he is, and thinks his piercings suit him. But she sees him awkward and uncomfortable around her and assumes it’s bc he doesn’t like her. She wants to be friends with Till but due to Till’s avoidant tendencies they’re not close.

He blames Ivan for this bc he doesn’t have anyone else to blame. He’s May not even be aware that he’s avoiding ppl like this. Ivan was just a jerk to him anyways so it’s easy to blame him if something he doesn’t like happens to him. This is the kid that steals his pencils it wouldn’t be too surprising if Ivan said something weird abt Till to Mizi.

Another thing is that he talks abt Ivan wanting revenge for hitting them when they were younger. This could be bc Till likely feels guilty abt hitting Ivan. When they grow older, yeah Till still gets pissed at Ivan, but he doesn’t hit him anymore. In fact he tries to ignore him like in the R6 flashback when Ivan pulls at his wound on his cheek. It’s like when you tell a little girl to stop reacting when a boy is mean to her bc he likes her (not that it ever stops the boy from being abusive but whatever). So I think this is how Till sees Ivan’s feelings towards him. He’s doing weird stuff cuz he’s mad at me/hates me for hitting him when we were younger. It could also be he feels guilty for throwing away his only chance at freedom with Ivan. Cuz it wasn’t just his freedom he gave up it was also Ivan’s freedom that was lost. It wasn’t Till’s responsibility or anything I’m not blaming him for Ivan’s choices. But as a result of Till’s actions both him and Ivan are trapped as pets again. Till blaming himself for Ivan coming back could be why he thinks Ivan only has negative feelings for him. And why he doesn’t attack Ivan after Ivan provoked him, he probably thinks he deserves Ivan tormenting him.

Now let’s talk abt Ivan’s response. He’s blunt as always with no tact when he says Mizi never played with you in the first place. But the smaller text is him saying I’m the one who plays with you.

From this the smaller text makes me think abt how Ivan is only truly honest when Till isn’t awake or looking at him.

In R6 Ivan is showing comfort and care to Till after he had been forced to sing for the aliens (idk if that scene has actual SA or if they just drugged him and hit him but regardless Till is suffering here). There is no way to misconstrue Ivan’s action as anything but care here. He unlocks Till’s collar and nuzzles his gently the way Till nuzzles flowers. He could’ve kissed Till here, could’ve unbuttoned his shirt or pinch his face etc. But the only thing he does is gently comfort Till.

I think this shows how Ivan wants to be kind and cherish Till. But something holds him back from doing it when Till can receive that care properly. It doesn’t matter how much you love give someone if the other person never receives it in a way they understand. It’s probably bc for Ivan who has been treated as a product/investment he doesn’t have a lot of self-worth. He’s so used to just fulfilling everyone’s expectations of him that he lost his individuality. Loving Till doesn’t fit inside everyone’s expectations of him, not even Till’s. So he only does what he wants when no one is aware of it, when he’s by himself. In the student interview he allots a lot of time for “private time” this could be bc that’s the only reprieve he gets from constantly acting like the perfect pet for the aliens. And with the low self worth and calling his feelings “shallow” he like Till also believes he’s not worthy of affection.

He acts like a jerk to Till partly out of immaturity, anger at Till for not leaving with him and bc if he acts like this he can maximize the time he spent with Till. If he acted like Mizi, gentle and kind, he assumes Till would run away like he does with Mizi. Remember Till grew up being taken away from his mom and being abused by Urak. As a defense mechanism he assumes that violence is normal and avoids the unknown kindness others have for him. As an avoidant person myself, when you’re not used to ppl being unconditional kind, it is VERY uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough that we shy away from it. So that’s why Ivan fulfills Till’s expectation of him being a jerk when he’s awake. But when Till isn’t looking at him or when Ivan’s abt to die he shows pure love towards Till.

Look at the face, that’s the look of someone in love. And one of the few times we see him wearing a collar. It’s bright green when looking at Till, Ivan you have so much affection how can you call it shallow 🥲 How many ppl could give up their chance at freedom just for the person they love? (This is why I can’t get behind ppl who think Ivan would cage Till or trap him by his side. Ivan literally respected Till’s choice not to leave their hell and even stayed with him and loved him the entire time they were together ;-;)

Also abt the last part I’m unclear where exactly Till mistook Ivan for Mizi? From my understanding I see Till loving Mizi as a performance and I think Vivinos said Till saw Mizi as an idol. Like how most ppl love idols, we only love the fantasy version we come up with of them. Very rarely do we see the messy human side to them. And even tho we may obsess over them and feel intense love for our fav idol. Eventually we turn off the screen and go through with our day. That’s how I see Till loving Mizi.

I mean whenever Ivan is watching Till, Till is mostly drawing, practicing/composing music or just by himself. There’s not really a scene of Ivan watching Till look at Mizi. It could just be that bc it’s Ivan’s pov we only see Till and no one else. But we also know that Ivan has spent a lot of time with Till in the garden, he’s our only insight into what Till is actually like. So I think Till loves Mizi from afar bc he unconsciously doesn’t want to actually get to know her and ruin his image of her. Even after seeing her attack Luka in R5 he still hallucinates her as a gentle almost angelic figure.

I mean I think Till has always loved Ivan but that’s just bc I’m delusional lol.

Anyways thank you so much for the ask! Sorry for the lateness and the nonsensical yapping. My brain is kinda fried rn from all the tests but I might come back and re-analyze the comic.

#alien stage #alnst ivan #alnst till #alnst #ivantill #ask me anything #alnst mizi

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itacats · 3 days ago

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Rain of Shadows

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: Emotional vulnerability and confessions, Themes of healing and trauma recovery, Intimate and supportive relationship dynamics, code name used for reader, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: Rain wakes up in the infirmary (again, what can I say? I'm a sucker for pain) after the mission where they were gravely injured. Despite the pain and physical damage, Rain finds solace in Simon's presence. His unexpected confession of affection shifts their relationship from one of mutual respect to something deeper. Over time, the two begin to heal together, sharing quiet moments and learning to trust one another completely. Their bond becomes a lifeline, a beacon of hope in the chaos of their lives, ultimately bringing them closer than ever before.

A/N: The finale of the finale is a culmination of the emotional and psychological journey between Rain and Simon. It’s got vulnerability, healing, and the power of connection amidst the horrors of their world. Simon’s admission, though raw and unplanned, reveals his depth and the transformation of their bond. In a setting that often focuses on brutality and survival, I wanted to explore the softer, more intimate side of these two characters. It’s a reminder that, even in the darkest times, love and companionship can be the greatest source of strength. 💖

Rain of Shadows Masterlist

Part 10.2 - When the Heart Speaks - FINALE

The familiar antiseptic smell greets you before your eyes even open, sharp and sterile, paired with the low hum of medical monitors. Blinking against the haze of sleep, your mind struggles to piece together the events that led you here. Confusion swirls until your gaze falls on a familiar figure slouched in a chair beside the bed—Simon.

The Ghost. Unflappable, stoic, deadly. Yet here he is, his mask tugged down just enough to reveal the rugged scruff of his jawline and weary eyes that hold a warmth you’ve never seen before.

The sight of him, this intimidating soldier crammed awkwardly into a too-small chair, stirs something inside you—a mix of amusement and affection. A soft chuckle escapes your lips, pulling him from his light slumber.

Simon blinks groggily, his gaze locking onto yours as relief floods his face. “You’re up,” he says, his voice rough with sleep but softened by an emotion that catches you off guard.

“Of course I am,” you rasp with a wry grin. “It’s going to take more than a bullet to put me down.”

His lips twitch, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Reckless as ever,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The humor fades, replaced by a thick silence. You can feel the weight of something unsaid in the air, a tension that stretches between you like a taut wire. Finally, unable to bear it, you speak.

“Why were you so quick to help me?” The question feels raw, exposing a vulnerability you didn’t expect to reveal.

Simon’s expression shifts, his brows knitting together as he exhales slowly. “I’m not sure what to call it,” he admits, his usual confidence replaced with an endearing hesitance. “But you’re important to me.”

The sincerity in his voice sends a jolt through you, and for a moment, you forget the pain in your body.

“It’s not the same as with the others—Gaz, Soap, Price. They’re my brothers in arms, but you… you’re different,” Simon continues, his words halting but laced with honesty. “I didn’t plan for it, but it just… happened.”

Your chest tightens at his admission, the weight of his feelings settling over you. “Different how?” you press, curiosity battling with the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze darting away briefly. “Look, I’m trying to say… I like you,” he blurts, his voice tinged with exasperation and embarrassment. “I didn’t think I would when we first met, but here we are.”

The bluntness of his confession leaves you stunned. A warmth blooms in your chest, and a playful smile tugs at your lips despite the gravity of the moment.

“So, what’s your favorite thing about me, then?” you tease, your voice light with mock disbelief.

Simon chuckles softly, the sound like a balm to your soul. “Your smile,” he says simply, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip.

“Seriously?” you say, rolling your eyes, though the warmth in your cheeks betrays you.

He leans forward slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fine. I also love how you can kill a man in two seconds flat. Very charming.”

The laughter bubbles out of you, filling the room with a sense of lightness you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, the pain in your abdomen fades, replaced by the warmth of shared joy.

As the days pass, the infirmary becomes your haven. Between missions and recovery, you and Simon carve out a quiet rhythm of companionship. The once hesitant exchanges grow into something deeper—an unspoken understanding born of shared experiences and mutual trust.

He shares fragments of his past, the scars he carries both visible and hidden. In return, you offer pieces of yourself, the broken parts you’d long since buried. Together, you begin to stitch those fragments into something whole, a mosaic of two souls healing side by side.

The late nights are your favorite. In the stillness, when the world feels far away, you find solace in each other’s presence. When nightmares creep in, Simon’s hand on yours becomes your anchor, his steady breaths lulling you back to safety. And when his own demons surface, you’re there, grounding him with a soft touch and quiet reassurances.

It’s the small moments that mean the most—his terrible attempts at making coffee, the way he lingers by your side during missions, the rare but heartfelt laughs you manage to coax out of him.

Every glance, every shared smile, is a promise. A vow to protect one another, to be there through the chaos and the quiet.

As the sun rises on another day, casting its golden light across the room, you glance over at Simon. He’s seated beside you, his head bowed as he tinkers with a piece of equipment. The sight fills you with an inexplicable warmth.

You’ve faced countless battles—both external and internal—but this, you realize, is the greatest victory of all: finding someone who sees you, who accepts you, and who chooses to stand by you through it all.

With Simon by your side, the future doesn’t feel so daunting. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll face it together. And that, you think, is more than enough.

To all my lovelies,

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for joining me on this journey. Your time, attention, and support mean the world to me. Writing this story was a labor of love, and knowing that you’ve experienced it alongside me makes it all the more special. I hope that you found something in it that touched you, whether it be the characters’ struggles, their growth, or the quiet moments between them.

Your presence and encouragement as readers are what make stories like these come to life. I’m so grateful to each and every one of you for being part of this journey.

With love and appreciation,

Jay

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Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

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@burningarcadething

#bt extra #call of duty #fanfic #cod fic #cod #simon ghost riley #gn reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost #rain of shadows

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enemiestolovershoe · 2 hours ago

Note

hey :) .. i‘m in desperate need for a very fluffy fic with chris and bsf!reader where reader went to the triplets house earlier that day and ever since she was off. she crashed on the couch and as chris went to the kitchen to get some pepsi he saw that the lights are still one and reader is still up. crying. he askes whats wrong (you make something up) and chris is comforting her in the end and they end up cuddling falling asleep on the couch. :) thank you so much

Shattered Trust

Christ Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: After Y/N’s world shatters from betrayal, Chris offers her comfort and support, helping her navigate the painful path of healing and rediscovery.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, Mild swearing, Crying, Emotional Distress, Betrayal

The glowing screen of your phone illuminated your tear-streaked face as you typed out a message. Your hands trembled, but you forced yourself to hit send:

Hey, Chris, are you busy?

It only took a few seconds for the reply to pop up.

Not at all. What’s up?

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth or to brush it off as nothing. The thought of sitting in your room, replaying the betrayal over and over, was unbearable. You needed a distraction, somewhere to go, people to be with—people who felt safe.

Can I come over? you finally typed.

Chris’s reply came faster this time.

Of course. We were just about to pick a movie. You coming over for our movie night?

You blinked at the screen. You’d completely forgotten tonight was one of your monthly traditions with the triplets. Normally, the thought would’ve excited you, but now it just felt like a lifeline.

Yeah, movie night sounds good. Be there in 15.

Chris stood in the living room, holding his phone with a faint smile. "Y/N's coming over," he announced to Nick and Matt, who were sprawled across the couch, arguing about which movie to watch.

"Finally," Nick grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Matt. "I was about to call her myself. It’s her turn to pick the snacks anyway."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You sure she doesn’t just want to escape from her crazy family? Remember that time she showed up because her mom and sister were having a screaming match over hair dye?"

Chris shrugged. "I don’t care why she’s coming. She asked, so she’s welcome."

As you drove through the quiet streets, your mind drifted back to the moment everything shattered.

Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself—had always been charming, maybe too charming. You’d never questioned his late nights or the way he sometimes avoided your gaze when your sister was around. You’d trusted him completely.

But a week ago, you’d come home early from a canceled lunch with friends, only to find the two of them tangled up on the couch. The image was burned into your memory, along with the sound of their voices stumbling over excuses.

"Y/N, it’s not what it looks like," he’d said, his voice dripping with guilt.

"Seriously?" you’d spat, unable to even look at your sister. "How long has this been going on?"

Your sister had said nothing, just stood there, avoiding your eyes. That silence had hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

Pulling into the Sturniolos’ driveway, you wiped your eyes and practiced a smile in the mirror. The triplets didn’t know what had happened, and you weren’t ready to tell them. Tonight needed to be about something else, anything else.

Chris opened the door before you could even knock. "Hey, you made it!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. "You okay?"

You nodded, forcing your practiced smile. "Yeah, just needed some company."

"Well, you’re in luck," Nick called from the couch, waving the remote. "We were about to watch something, but Matt refuses to watch anything fun. Save us."

"Hey!" Matt protested. "At least I pick movies with actual plots."

"Sure, if by 'plot,' you mean boring dialogue and depressing endings," Nick shot back.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ignore them. You want something to drink? Snacks? Or just want to settle in and pick the movie?"

You hesitated, but the warmth of their familiar banter started to thaw the icy weight in your chest. "I’ll take snacks and the remote," you said with a weak laugh.

"Now that’s the Y/N we know," Chris said, his smile softening as he led you into the living room.

You flopped onto the couch with a sigh, curling into the corner as Nick and Matt argued over yet another movie choice.

"Okay, but why would we watch Inception right now? It’s like three hours long, and my brain’s not ready for all that," Nick said, waving his hands in exasperation.

"Because it’s a good movie," Matt shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, but good doesn’t mean fun, and I’m in the mood for fun," Nick retorted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your first real laugh in what felt like days. "How about The Hangover?" you suggested, cutting through their debate.

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

"Classic choice," Chris said with an approving nod.

"Finally, someone with taste," Nick said, glaring at Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine. At least it’s better than whatever Nick would’ve picked."

"Excuse me, my taste is immaculate," Nick replied, throwing a handful of popcorn in Matt’s direction.

Chris handed you the remote and stood. "I’ll grab some snacks. Pepsi okay?"

"Perfect," you said, your voice soft but grateful.

A few minutes later, Chris returned with a can of Pepsi and a small bowl of your favorite chocolate. He placed them on the table in front of you, giving you a brief, searching look.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that Nick and Matt wouldn’t hear.

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Thanks, Chris."

He didn’t push further, just gave you a small smile before sitting down next to you.

As the opening credits of The Hangover rolled, you settled into your corner of the couch. Nick had sprawled out on the floor with a blanket, Matt took the recliner, and Chris sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

The room quickly filled with laughter as the movie’s chaotic antics unfolded. For the first time in a week, you felt a little lighter, the ache in your chest dulled by the comfort of their company.

"Okay, but how does no one realize there’s a tiger in the bathroom until it’s too late?" Nick asked between bouts of laughter.

"Because they were all blacked out, genius," Matt replied, tossing a kernel of popcorn at him.

"Still. I would’ve noticed a tiger," Nick said with mock seriousness.

You smiled, shaking your head. "No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy freaking out over a missing tooth."

Chris chuckled beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. When you glanced over, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the screen.

It happened again a few minutes later during one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You caught Chris watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression soft, almost worried.

"Chris," you whispered, leaning toward him slightly.

"Yeah?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

"You don’t have to keep staring. I’m okay," you said, forcing a small smile.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I wasn’t staring."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," he admitted, his voice lowering. "I just… You seem different tonight."

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you quickly shook your head. "Just tired, that’s all."

Chris hesitated but nodded, letting it drop. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know," he said softly.

"Thanks, Chris," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the movie continued, you tried to focus on the humor, on the familiar warmth of being with the triplets. But Chris’s quiet concern lingered in the back of your mind, making you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he saw through the smile you were trying so hard to keep.

As the credits of The Hangover Part III rolled, Matt stretched with a dramatic yawn and stood up.

"Alright, I’m done," he announced, rubbing his eyes. "If I watch one more scene of Alan’s nonsense, I might lose my mind."

"You lost it a long time ago," Nick quipped, earning a glare from Matt.

"Whatever. I’m going to bed. Night, Y/N," Matt said with a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

Nick was quick to follow, gathering his blanket and pillow. "Yeah, I’m out too. Y/N, make sure Chris doesn’t make you watch some artsy indie movie if you guys stay up," he said with a wink.

"Goodnight, Nick," you replied with a soft laugh.

As their doors closed, Chris turned to you. "It’s pretty late," he said, glancing at the clock. "You sure you’re okay to drive? You could crash here if you want."

You hesitated, but the idea of going back home, back to the empty room where every corner reminded you of betrayal, was unbearable. "Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys."

"Y/N," Chris said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. "You could never bother us. Stay."

You nodded. "Okay. I’ll take the couch, then."

Chris got up and grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet. He draped it over you carefully, his hand lingering on the back of the couch for a moment. "If you need anything, just knock on my door, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, Chris," you said quietly.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

"Goodnight."

As soon as he was gone, the silence of the room felt overwhelming. You curled up under the blanket, the warm fabric doing little to shield you from the cold ache in your chest.

You pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction, but the sight of an unread message made your heart sink. It was from your sister.

Why are you ghosting me? We need to talk.

Your breath hitched as the words blurred on the screen. She had the nerve to text you, to act as though everything could be fixed with a conversation. Fresh tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for the triplets to hear. They didn’t know, and you weren’t sure you could bring yourself to tell them.

In his room, Chris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with him. You’d been quiet, more than usual. The message you sent earlier had been short, almost hesitant, and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week.

Chris frowned, running a hand through his hair. He hated seeing you like this—guarded, distant. It wasn’t like you to pull away, not from them.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. But it was no use. His mind kept replaying little moments from the night—the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you flinched when he asked if you were okay, the way you seemed to deflate the second Matt and Nick left the room.

Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he was sure of it.

Back in the living room, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears kept coming. The betrayal, the pain, the gnawing guilt of not telling the triplets—it all felt like too much.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your sister’s name on your screen, her message taunting you, demanding an answer you couldn’t give.

You wanted to tell Chris, Nick, and Matt everything. You wanted to spill it all, to let them comfort you like they always did. But the words felt trapped in your throat, too heavy to say out loud.

And besides, they were probably asleep by now.

What you didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t asleep. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, still thinking about you. And something told him he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Sleep just wouldn’t come. His thoughts kept drifting back to you—your forced smiles, the way you’d seemed a little too quiet all night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

With a sigh, he gave up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, noting the time: 2:37 a.m.

"Great," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He decided a Pepsi might help, so he padded quietly out of his room and into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. The kitchen and living room were joined, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you.

As he opened the fridge, the faint sound of a muffled sob reached his ears. Chris froze, his hand hovering over the soda can.

He turned his head toward the couch, his brow furrowing. The room was dim, but he could see your figure curled under the blanket, your shoulders trembling.

"Y/N?" he called softly, stepping away from the fridge.

You stiffened, biting your lip to keep any more sounds from escaping. But it was too late—he’d already heard you.

Chris approached the couch slowly, his heart sinking at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Without a word, he sat down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

You turned your head away, wiping at your face furiously, but Chris wasn’t having it. Gently, he laid a hand on your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

"Hey," he said softly. "What’s wrong, hm?"

"Nothing," you whispered, your voice cracking.

"Y/N," he said firmly, though his tone remained gentle. "Please. Tell me. We both know something’s hurting you. You can tell me anything, I promise."

You shook your head stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Chris sighed but didn’t pull away. "Okay," he said after a moment. "How about this? If you don’t want Matt or Nick to know, I won’t tell them. Whatever it is, it’ll stay between us. I swear."

You hesitated, his words making the weight on your chest feel just a little lighter. Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, letting the blanket fall to your lap. Chris stayed close, watching you carefully, his concern etched across his face.

Your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Jason cheated."

Chris blinked, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

"And it wasn’t just with anyone," you continued, your voice breaking. "It was with my sister."

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Chris stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers twisting in the blanket. The silence felt suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Finally, Chris found his voice. "Y/N..." he started, but his words trailed off, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

Chris sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. His mind reeled at your words, trying to process the betrayal you’d just revealed. But as he looked at you—your trembling hands, the tears that streamed down your cheeks—his shock quickly gave way to something else: protectiveness.

Without hesitating, Chris moved closer, sliding an arm around your shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to spiral.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even know what to say… but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. Not from him. And definitely not from her."

His words broke something loose inside you, and the tears came harder, pouring down your face and soaking the neckline of your shirt. You buried your face in your hands, your body trembling as you let out the sobs you’d been holding back for days.

"How could they do this to me, Chris?" you choked out between sobs. "My own sister… she knew everything—everything Jason and I had been through. And she still—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Chris felt a sharp pang in his chest. Seeing you like this—completely broken—made his blood boil. He wanted to storm out, to confront Jason, to demand answers from your sister, but he knew none of that would help you right now. Right now, you needed him here.

"They’re both selfish," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "They didn’t think about you at all, and that’s on them. That’s not your fault, Y/N."

You shook your head, tears still streaming. "But it feels like it is… I keep thinking, ‘What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?’"

Chris grabbed your hands, gently pulling them away from your face. "Hey, stop that. Don’t do that to yourself," he said, his tone more intense now. "Jason cheated because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to value someone amazing when he has them. And your sister…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She’s the one who betrayed you, not the other way around. You’re not to blame for any of this. Not even a little."

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the shame—was too much.

Chris seemed to sense that. He didn’t say anything more, just pulled you into a hug, wrapping both arms around you tightly. Your head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin lightly on top of your hair.

"Just let it out," he murmured, stroking your back in soothing circles. "I’m right here. You don’t have to hold it in anymore."

The dam broke. You clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely, your tears soaking into his shirt. Chris didn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, he held you tighter, his hand continuing its steady rhythm on your back.

"It’s okay," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "Cry as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere."

And he didn’t. Chris stayed there, holding you like you were the most fragile and important thing in the world. Even as your sobs wracked your body, he remained calm, offering the kind of quiet strength you desperately needed.

Minutes passed, though it felt like time stood still. Slowly, your crying began to subside, your breaths becoming less ragged. But Chris didn’t let go, not until he was sure you were ready.

The warmth of Chris’s embrace began to steady your breathing, though your body still felt heavy with exhaustion. Slowly, you pulled away, your hands resting in your lap as you avoided his gaze. Chris leaned back slightly, giving you space, but his concern didn’t waver.

Your eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, your cheeks streaked with drying tears. Chris reached out, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear that lingered.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s try and get some sleep, okay?" he said softly, his voice warm and steady. "It’s been a lot tonight, but it’s going to get better. I promise."

You nodded wordlessly, lying back down on the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin. The headache from crying so much throbbed behind your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how tired you felt.

As you settled in, you expected Chris to stand and head back to his room. But instead, he surprised you. Without saying a word, he shifted to lie down behind you, sliding in close and wrapping an arm protectively around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, startled by the gesture. "Chris… you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to," you protested, your voice soft and hesitant.

Chris’s hold didn’t falter. He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head and hushed you gently. "Shhh," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

His words, spoken with such quiet determination, made your chest tighten. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, though this time they weren’t from sadness.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Chris." Your voice cracked slightly, but you meant every word.

He gave your waist a small squeeze. "Always," he said simply, his tone carrying a weight of sincerity that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in days.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his arm around you, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going to leave finally allowed your body to relax. The headache and emotional exhaustion took over, and before you knew it, your eyes fluttered shut.

Chris stayed awake a little longer, watching over you as your breathing evened out. He held you close, his heart breaking a little as he thought about everything you’d gone through. But more than anything, he was determined to be there for you, no matter what it took.

Finally, a small, tired smile crossed his lips as he rested his head against the pillow, letting sleep claim him too—right there with you in his arms.

The morning light crept through the blinds as Nick shuffled groggily into the living room, his eyes barely open. He stretched with a yawn, heading toward the fridge for something to drink. As he turned toward the couch, he froze mid-step.

At first, he blinked a few times, convinced he was still half-asleep. "What the…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes dramatically. The sight before him—Chris curled up behind you on the couch, his arm draped protectively around your waist—was not something he’d ever expected to see.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. After a moment of staring in disbelief, he turned and bolted down the hall.

"Matt!" Nick hissed, bursting into his brother’s room.

Matt groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Nick, if this isn’t an emergency, I swear—"

"It is!" Nick interrupted, shaking Matt’s shoulder. "You need to see this. Like, right now."

Reluctantly, Matt sat up, his hair a mess and his expression sour. "This better be good," he grumbled, throwing the blanket off and following Nick back to the living room.

When he caught sight of the two of you on the couch, his annoyance vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

"Is that…" Matt started, leaning closer to get a better look.

"Yup," Nick whispered, his tone somewhere between shocked and amused.

"Did he finally make a move?" Nick asked, tilting his head.

"I don’t know," Matt replied, scratching the back of his head. "But… doesn’t she have a boyfriend?"

Nick frowned, looking at Matt. "Yeah, she does. At least, I think she does. So… what’s this about?"

Matt shrugged, his brow furrowed. "No clue. But they look pretty cozy."

Nick pulled out his phone, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Should we ask them? Or should I just take a picture for evidence?"

"Definitely a picture," Matt said, smirking.

Nick nodded, holding his phone up and aiming the camera. Just as he was about to snap the shot, his fingers fumbled, and the phone slipped from his hand.

The loud clatter of the phone hitting the floor echoed through the room, and both you and Chris stirred.

Chris blinked awake first, squinting against the light and taking a second to register what was happening. He glanced down at you still in his arms, then up at Nick and Matt, who were both frozen like deer in headlights.

You woke up a second later, groggy and disoriented. "What’s going on?" you mumbled, sitting up slightly and noticing Chris’s arm still loosely around you.

Nick recovered first, quickly scooping up his phone. "Uh, nothing! Morning! Just… you know… didn’t mean to wake you guys!"

Matt, however, wasn’t as subtle. "So… are we gonna talk about this, or…?" He gestured between the two of you, his brows raised.

Chris rubbed his face, clearly trying to think of a way to explain. "It’s not what it looks like—"

Matt snorted. "Really? ‘Cause it looks like you two were cuddling all night."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we not do this right now?"

Nick crossed his arms, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, we’re definitely doing this right now."

Chris’s body stiffened as he quickly sat up, his expression suddenly serious. His protective instincts kicked in, and he shot a sharp look at Nick, his voice firm. "No, Nick. Seriously. Drop it. It’s not the time."

Nick froze, blinking in confusion at the sudden change in Chris’s tone. He wasn’t used to hearing his brother so... intense. But before he could ask anything more, his gaze shifted to you.

You had your face hidden in your hands, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. That’s when it hit Nick. It wasn’t just a casual morning moment between friends. Something was wrong.

Matt’s playful smirk faltered, and his eyes softened as he noticed the tears trailing down your face. His teasing nature immediately gave way to concern. "Y/N…?" he began, but Chris cut him off before either of them could say anything else.

"Look, this is serious," Chris said, his voice still low and full of emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he turned toward Nick and Matt. "You guys don’t know what happened."

Nick looked at him, unsure. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now, sensing the weight behind his brother’s words.

Chris glanced over at you, his heart breaking as he saw how upset you were. He didn’t want to push you, but he also knew you needed support. "Y/N gave me permission to tell you guys," he said softly, then turned to face Matt and Nick fully. "Jason—her boyfriend—cheated on her. With her sister."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Matt and Nick both looked at each other in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wait, what?" Nick whispered, shaking his head in confusion. "He… cheated on her with her sister?"

Chris nodded, his jaw tight with anger. "Yeah. And I know she’s been trying to keep it together, but it’s been eating her up. She didn’t deserve any of this." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of what you were going through becoming even more apparent as he spoke.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the sting of their stares but too drained to care. Chris’s hand remained on your back, offering what little comfort he could, but you could tell this was a lot for Matt and Nick to process.

Matt was the first to speak up again, his face hardening. "That’s messed up," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "She doesn’t deserve that." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Y/N, I’m sorry."

Nick nodded in agreement, though his voice was still filled with disbelief. "I… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

You sniffed and looked up, finally meeting their eyes. "I didn’t know how to. It hurt too much. I didn’t want to drag anyone into it." Your voice trembled, but you tried to hold it together. "I just needed some time to figure out what to do."

Chris gave your back another reassuring rub, silently telling you it was okay to let them in. He looked up at Matt and Nick, a heavy sigh escaping him. "She needs our support right now, not questions. So please… just… give her space if she wants it."

Matt nodded solemnly, his usual teasing nature now completely gone. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice softer than before. "You’ve got it, Y/N. Whatever you need."

Nick hesitated for a moment, then gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. "We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone."

You nodded weakly, still feeling the sting of everything that had happened. But for the first time in what felt like days, you felt a small flicker of hope. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, maybe things would start to get better.

Chris’s arm tightened around you once more, offering the quiet comfort of knowing that, for now, you weren’t alone in this.

The room fell into a quiet calm, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Matt and Nick gave you the space you needed, no longer pressing you with questions. Instead, they offered small, reassuring smiles, letting you know they were there—ready to support you however you needed.

Chris, still sitting close beside you, rubbed your back comfortingly, his presence a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave your side. The warmth of his touch brought a small, but much-needed sense of peace.

After a few moments of silence, you took a shaky breath and finally looked up at Chris. "I don’t know what to do… or where to go from here," you admitted, your voice still thick with emotion.

Chris met your gaze with understanding in his eyes. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now," he said gently. "We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. Maybe you didn’t have the answers yet, but you weren’t alone. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, you knew you had the support to get through this.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking again, but this time with gratitude.

Chris smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Always, Y/N. You’ll never have to go through this alone."

As the day began to unfold, you and the triplets spent the rest of the morning together. No more talk of Jason or your sister—just the comfort of knowing you were surrounded by people who cared. Slowly, the pieces of your heart that had shattered started to heal, one moment, one breath at a time.

And for the first time in a while, you felt a spark of hope for the future, knowing that with time and support, you’d find your way through the pain.

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sequinsmile-x · 1 day ago

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would like to suggest a hotchniss christmas fic that's basically the song "i saw mommy kissing santa claus"

omg YES. YES.

Here you go bestie xo

-x-

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Evie Hotchner sees something on Christmas Eve that she doesn't think she should have seen.

AKA - the one in which I've written exactly what you think I've written.

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You excited for tomorrow, Mommy?”

Emily smiles and puts the book she’d been holding down on her lap as she turns to her daughter, “I am, baby. I love Christmas.”

Evie’s smile gets wider, the three year old no closer to sleep than she was when she’d brought her up to bed 40 minutes ago, “Me too!! Lots of presents.”

“Lots of presents,” Emily chuckles and kisses her forehead, thinking of all the gifts hidden in the attic that she’d promised to help her husband with once the kids were in bed.

“And it’s Zaccy’s first Christmas,” she says, her eyebrows furrowing, the serious look that she’d inherited from Aaron spreading across her face, “Will Santa know about him?”

Emily runs her fingers through her hair, an old trick that had helped to send her to sleep since she was a baby, and she tugs Evie closer, the love she had for her little brother enough to make Emily want to cry.

When she was first pregnant with Issac, she’d worried about Evie’s reaction to becoming a big sister. Since she was a tiny newborn, she’d always been all about Emily, desperate for her mother’s affection and attention at any given moment. It had made those early days long, when she’d refuse to settle for Aaron - something that Emily knew upset him - and she’d sit up in bed with Evie asleep on her chest because it was the only place she’d sleep for longer than 10 minutes. When they brought Issac home, the final missing piece to their family, and Evie was complacent about him at best, Aaron assured Emily that their little girl would be fine, that there would be an adjustment period for all of them, but that she loved her little brother even if she didn’t know it yet.

He was right, just like he was more often than Emily would care to admit, and Evie was obsessed with her little brother now. Sometimes they’d find her asleep on his bedroom floor, curled under her bedding that she’d pulled in after her with her favourite stuffed animal in her arms.

“Yes,” she says, kissing her forehead again, “Santa knows about Zaccy, don’t worry,” she smiles as she thinks of the 6-month-old sleeping in the next room, “And remember what we said - he’s small so he doesn’t understand it all yet.”

“It okay, I open his presents.”

She chuckles, “Okay, sweet girl, you need to go to sleep.”

Evie sighs like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, “I’m too excited to sleep.”

She hums and continues to run her fingers through her hair, smiling to herself as she tells her daughter the only white lie she’d ever tell her, “But Santa won’t come if you don’t sleep.”

Evie’s eyes go wide before she squeezes them shut, her grip on Emily’s shirt getting tighter, “I go to sleep now.”

Emily kisses the top of her head and picks the book back up, holding it with one hand whilst the other still plays with her little girl’s hair as she reads to her. She slowly feels Evie get heavier as she falls asleep, her grip on her shirt loosening just as Emily finishes the book. She sneaks out from under Evie and tucks the covers around her, dropping a kiss against her temple before she slips out of the room, making sure she’s quiet as she pulls the door closed behind her. She checks on Issac and Jack, relieved to find them both asleep, and heads downstairs.

She smiles when she walks into the living room to find the presents all gathered around the tree already, toys and books she’d spent weeks agonising over all wrapped up and ready for her three kids to tear into them all in seconds. She sometimes had to pinch herself when she thought about the fact that this was her life. She had a family of her own, one she’d built together with the love of her life, and she was able to give her children the Christmases she’d always wanted when she was a kid herself.

Aaron would always gently make fun of her and her love of the holidays, his smile wide and full of love as he patiently stood next to her as she picked out decorations and sparkling lights. It never went further than a playful comment or a raised eyebrow because he knew how important it was to her.

She hears his footsteps behind her, and she turns, “Sorry, honey, I would have helped but Evie…” she trails off when she sees him, her words turning into a laugh as she’s met with the sight of him in the Santa Claus outfit they’d bought and hidden with all the gifts. He’d insisted on it, his eyes full of excitement as he said he’d surprise the kids with it, something she knew was his own attempt to give them what he’d never had, “Why are you wearing that?”

He shrugs and pulls the fake beard down, “I wanted to check that it fits,” he asks, and she watches as he turns as if he’s trying out a new suit for work, “What do you think?”

She hums, love for him thrumming under her skin, “It looks good.”

He chuckles and raises an eyebrow at her, “Santa? Really?”

She rolls her eyes and slaps his shoulder lightly, smiling when he captures her hand and kisses her knuckles, “No,” she exclaims, her nose scrunched up with disgust, “Not like that.”

Aaron leans in to kiss her, “I know that look, Issac exists because of that look.”

She shakes her head at him and wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers curled around the bobble on the end of his Santa hat, “It’s not the Santa suit,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “It’s you being such a good Dad.”

He hums against her lips, “Love you.”

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips skimming his as her breath skips across his face, “I love you too.”

She kisses him again, and they get lost in each other, both of them too distracted to hear a quiet gasp from the doorway followed by their little girl's footsteps on the hardwood floor as she runs back upstairs to her bedroom.

Emily wakes up at the sound of a bedroom door opening down the hall, closely followed by thundering footsteps.

“Incoming,” Aaron says from behind her, his voice rough from sleep and misuse as he encourages her closer with the arm thrown over her waist. She has just enough to turn and kiss him before the door opens, Evie and Jack speaking in unison from the doorway, Issac smiling widely in Jack’s arms, his tiny hands already reaching out for his mom.

“Merry Christmas!”

Emily and Aaron both sit up as they smile at their children, beckoning them over to the bed as Aaron switches on the lamp on his nightstand.

“Merry Christmas,” Emily says as she opens her arms up to take Issac from Jack. She kisses the baby’s cheek several times in a row, “It’s your first Christmas, sweet boy,” she kisses his cheek again, “Are you excited?”

“He was already awake when we went into his room,” Jack says as he settles on the bed in between his parents, “He was just sitting there like he was waiting.”

“Were you waiting for your brother and sister?” She smiles as she settles Issac into her lap, “My patient little guy.” Issac was Aaron all the way through, his quietness in comparison to his older sister already pronounced at only 6-months-old. Emily had lost sleep in the early weeks of his life for an entirely different reason to Evie’s, so used to how her little girl had cried for hours at a time that she was convinced something was wrong with her newborn son. She turns to look at Evie who was sitting in Aaron’s lap, her attention focused on a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt, “Are you okay, sweet girl?”

Evie shrugs and doesn’t look up at her, and Emily and Aaron exchange a concerned look. He adjusts his hold on the toddler so she’s looking at him.

“Do you want to go give Mommy a Christmas cuddle?” He asks, trying to pull a smile out of her by tickling her, and she shakes her head fiercely, holding on to him tightly.

“No,” she says, the tone in her voice cutting deeper than Emily thought possible as she looks up at her, “Mommy was naughty.”

Emily furrows her brow, the serious look on her little girl’s face a vice around her heart as she tries to figure out what she’d done wrong to upset her, “What do you mean, baby?”

Evie shakes her head again, “Can’t say.”

Aaron looks at Emily and doesn’t miss the hurt flashing across her face, and he knows he needs to fix whatever is going on before it ruins their first Christmas morning as a family of five, “Princess, you can tell us anything, you know that.”

The little girl sighs and looks up at her father, her lower lip sticking out as it wobbles ever so slightly, “Mommy kissed someone else,” she says, turning to look at Emily again, “I saw you kissing Santa.”

Any concern she’d had that she’d somehow upset her daughter without knowing how disappears in a second, replaced with amusement she has to swallow down. She keeps her eyes fixed on her daughter, knowing if she made eye contact with her husband she’d laugh, and that would only upset Evie more right now.

“Baby-”

“I saw you,” Evie says, her arms crossed over her chest, “Last night.”

Aaron tries this time, desperately trying to think of how he could explain this to his little girl without running Christmas for her, without shattering the illusion of Santa years before he’d hoped it would happen.

“That wasn’t the real Santa,” Jack cuts in, missing the look of panic in his parent's eyes as he tries to help.

“Jack-” Aaron warns, but Jack carries on undeterred. He’d mentioned this year that he knew Santa wasn’t real, which Emily knew Aaron found harder to accept than he’d anticipated. They’d sat him down and explained that it was important for his brother and sister to still believe it, and he’d nodded along, pleased to be in on the secret, his smile wide at Evie’s excitement when they’d gone to meet Santa in the mall a week ago.

“The real Santa is busy, right?” Jack says, cutting over Aaron. Evie nods in response and Jack carries on, “So he has Mommy’s and Daddy’s help out with putting out the presents - that was Daddy you saw Mommy kissing last night.”

Evie’s frown loosens a little, her eyes flicking back and forth between her parents, “Really?”

Emily looks at Aaron and he shrugs, both of them grateful that their eldest had come up with an answer when they hadn’t been able to, “Yeah,” she says, reaching out and tucking some of Evie’s hair behind her ear, “Really,” she looks up at her husband and winks, “Daddy’s the only person I want to kiss.”

Evie sighs in relief and finally slips into Emily’s lap, “Merry Christmas Mommy.”

She smiles and holds her close, one arm around her and the other around Issac and she drops kisses on top of both of their heads. She looks over at Aaron and Jack, both of them beaming at her, and she sighs contentedly, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Right,” Aaron says, throwing the covers off of his lap and standing up, “How about some Christmas pancakes?” Jack and Evie exclaim and scramble off the bed, both of them already in the hallway before he can call after them, “Jack, make sure your sister is careful on the stairs.”

“Yes, Dad!”

He turns and looks at Emily, his smile turning into a smirk as she stands up, Issac on her hip, “So-”

“Don’t even say anything,” she replies, raising her eyebrow at him, her cheeks warm with embarrassment, “I can’t believe she saw that,” she blows out a breath, “Thank fuck Jack can think on his feet. We’re going to have to be more careful next year.”

He hums and wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her close to kiss her temple, her cheek and then the corner of her lips, “We’ll keep the Santa kissing strictly to the bedroom.”

She rolls her eyes as she pulls away from him, “How many times do I have to say it was not the Santa costume I found attractive, but you being a good dad?”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulders, taking a moment to run his knuckles down Issac’s cheek before he starts to lead them out of the bedroom.

“I believe you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “Thousands wouldn’t.”

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