#should I put a trigger warning? and if so uh which one?

[sockdooe]

Heart beating so fast you can probably hear it

[luciferlightbringer]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 6

Hi lovelies! Please be warned that this is a heavier chapter that discusses trauma and depictions of violence! I'm sure I'm going overboard with the warnings, but I'm just wanting to make sure I cover all of my bases here! xoxo, Dany

Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 5.3k CW: Slowburn, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, cuddles, depression, anxiety, protective "not-boyfriend" !Trigger Warning!: Physical violence, abuse, neglect, vague mentionings of underage sex work, drug use, torture, and drug dealing

The next couple of days seemed to creep by more slowly for the both of you, nothing drastic, just... slower, more... unpleasant. It could have been because of how good everything felt to be with each other, but at least for you, there had been another new factor.

You had still been seeing other clients while working for Lucifer, and sure, he took up the largest amount of time, but there were still others, some one offs and some regulars, and a handful of new clients. Most of them didn't give you much grief, but one of your newer clients had taken quite a shine to you, and wanted to see you more often. He was... ok...ish... not really. He was a little selfish, which was fine, but he also had an aggressive personality, and not the fun kind. He had not done anything "bad" to you yet, but he toed the line and that made you nervous.

This had not been as much of an issue until someone tipped him off that you did house calls it was Cynthhhhia, and in the last two days he had asked for you to go to his place, and he seemed to push the boundaries more outside of the brothel. Larry had always told you that if anyone made you ladies uncomfortable, that you could put them on your "No Kiss List", basically being banned from being scheduled with you, and depending on the intensity of the issue they could also get banned from the Lounge entirely.

Again, at this point, this newer guy, Jethro, had not done anything yet, so you still felt like you could handle him, but he was still a cause for some stress. The night of your next visit with Lucifer was a welcome one. When you got too Lucifer's, you pulled him into a tight embrace. He welcomed your hug, but noticed that it felt a little different, a little heavier than usual.

"Well hello to you too! Haha! Hey, you doing ok?" he said, looking at you with soft concern as your released him from your embrace.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" you smiled, trying to hide your stress from the day.

"Oh nothing, you just uh... felt a little tense is all," he said sheepishly.

"Oh! Haha, ya it's nothing. Just a long day. Lots of clients, lots of... you know," you said trailing off.

"Of course! Haha, how silly of me! Do you, uh... need a minute? Do you want to, like, take a bath or shower or something?" he asked, "By yourself of course! I'm sure a minute to yourself would be nice. Plus, I still need to finish up with dinner," he added nervously, he felt his checks tint pink.

You chuckled, you thought it was funny when Lucifer would overthink his statements and felt like he needed to clarify something.

"That sounds nice, I might just take you up on that," you smile.

"Great!" he smiled, "Chose any bathroom you like, dinner should be ready in like 30 minutes."

The two of you part ways as you headed to one of the close-by guest bathrooms and Lucifer headed back to the kitchen. Lucifer had some updates that he had wanted to tell you about from Charlie's meeting with Heaven, but he figured that could wait a little longer. Plus, he was now preoccupied by his own dumb comment.

'"You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, of course!" no duh, you idiot! She understood that's what you meant, why did you felt like you needed to clarify that?! Why do you gotta be so weird sometimes?!' he scolded himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Lucifer definitely had people that would cook for him, but he liked that it gave him something to do sometimes while he waited for you to get there in the evenings.

Meanwhile, you drew yourself a bath and slipped into it. You examined the bruises on your legs and chest from where your earlier guest had bitten and grabbed you. You were normally all for kinks like these, but these feel more forceful, and therefore made you upset to look at. You hid your legs under the water and just floated in the big tub for a while.

You smiled to yourself again as you thought of Lucifer stumbling over himself 'You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, course!' followed by that little nervous smile. It was cute, and it was funny that he kept forgetting that he could just request that if he wanted to. You wouldn't have minded, you honestly would have liked it. He would be so warm and soft, snuggling into your chest in the warm water. You realized you had only ever seen him down to a barely opened shirt, while he has seen you down to your lingerie, for a fleeting minute.

How odd it was, that he had been one of your longest running and most consistent clients and yet, you too had not been sexually intimate at all. It was nice, but also... a little disappointing? Why was that disappointing? Why did you care? And why did you actually like the thought of bathing with him?

Your thought process was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Uhh... occupied?" you said.

"There you are!" you could hear Lucifer through the door. "Jesus Christ, darling why do I have so many bathrooms?"

You shrugged, "Uhh.. cuz you're rich and its funny?"

"Hmm... That is true..." Lucifer chuckled on the other side of the door, "Anyways, dinner is ready whenever you are!"

"Ok!" you called out, and you started to get ready. As Lucifer walked away, he paused for a moment, thinking about how you were naked on the other side of the door.

He shook his head and kept walking, "Dude, stop it," he said quietly to himself.

A few minutes later, you were out, a toweling off your hair, back in your earlier clothes.

"How are you feeling?" said Lucifer as you entered the room.

"Much better, thank you," you said with a smile.

You and Lucifer sat down to eat, and Lucifer was finally able to tell you about the whole ordeal of setting up the Heaven with meeting the exhausting bureaucracy and drama of it all, and then... the aftermath of Charlie's meeting. Charlie had gone up with Vaggie, met with a bunch of the angels and seraphim, including Adam, the first man and leader of the yearly exterminations, and his right hand exorcist, Lute, and... it did not go well. Charlie had gotten them to start actually start thinking about the whole issue, then Adam dropped the whole "extermination" thing on the counsel, and most of the angels in the room knew nothing about the extermination of souls in hell! Consider the tea, spilled. Then on top of that, the council said their was not proof sinners could be redeemed, and Adam basically declared war on the Hotel.

Well, this was very stressful, but in a way that made you care more and made you forget about your worries from earlier in the day. You thought about Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel... everyone at the hotel... You were wondering how they were feeling, how they were going to get out of this. So much for your idea about moving into the hotel. You chuckled to yourself.

"What is it?" Lucifer asked.

"Oh... it's stupid," you say with a wave of your hand, Lucifer gives you a look. You sigh, "Just... puts a little damper on my daydream to try out the hotel."

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, "You were thinking about moving to the hotel?"

You sat back and shrugged, "It was... a passing thought. Nothing serious. I realize that probably would have made things complicated, it's probably just easier this way."

Lucifer studied your face, "Maybe after the next extermination, see what happens. I just don't want you to get caught up in all of that right now."

"Ya," you say, staring off. Your worries returning back to thoughts of Charlie and the others.

Lucifer read the concern on your face, and placed a hand over yours. You looked up to meet his soft smile.

"It's gonna be ok..." he said with hesitation. "I don't exactly know how it is going to be ok, I would be lying if I said it wasn't nervous... but I trust my daughter... and her friends seem to be good people... outside of Alastor," his glared off to the side at the mentioning of the Radio Demon.

He was right, maybe not all hope was lost, maybe Charlie would figure out something. You smile at the face he made, then looked down at his hand on top of yours. Your face shifted in thought in response to something he had just said, "her friends seem to be good people..." Did he really believe that? Did that visit really change his mind that much? That's not what he had made it sound like the other day. You had forgotten about that comment, and now the reminder left you with a bitter taste.

Lucifer looked over and caught your expression, "What's on your mind?"

You look at him sideways, "Do you really believe that? That her friends are good people?"

"Well... as far as I have seen, why do you say that?" he said with worried confusion.

You look up at him, "I just thought that sinners were all violent psychopaths, hell-bent on causing as much pain a destruction as they can."

Lucifer froze, shit did he really say that the other day to his daughter, in front of you and all of Charlie's friends? Yeesh.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Jeez, I really did say that didn't I?" You gave him a slow judgmental nod. He sighed, "I... I was wrong, I shouldn't have said that... I'm sorry... I realized that I have never really taken the opportunity to actually get to know many sinners, and I've passed a lot of judgement on them the last... 10,000 years. They are not like that... you, are definitely not like that... Honestly, meeting you has made me really confused on the matter of how they decide who ends up here entirely."

Your slight distain turned you curiosity, and you raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

Lucifer took a minute to try and find the words, "Uhh, well... fuck, ok... I guess I just don't understand why you are in hell in the first place. The way you treat people puts people I used to know in Heaven to shame."

You blow a puff of air out your nose in a laugh, "Maybe the way I treat you and hotel people, I'm not like this with everyone, you know?"

"Well ya... but still..." Lucifer held back his next question a moment, he didn't want to say anything to upset you. "Can I ask... um... how you ended up here?"

You prop your head up on your hand and thought, being alive felt so long ago. Lucifer waited nervously for you to answer, but he was pretty sure you didn't look mad at the question.

"You really wanna know?"

He nodded.

"Well... I was the oldest child of drug addict parents, who had no right having any kids, spent much of my life fending for myself and my siblings, my parents would not stop having fucking kids and I was basically the only parent for them. I had to do... whatever I could for them, steal from neighbors, stores, random people's cars, anything to get food and money for my siblings. When I was older, my grandmother got custody of us and it got a lot better, but we struggled a lot mentally and it was hard to shake the old habits. She had to knock some sense into me to stop stealing, but I could never get past the idea of needing to be the parent of the house. I didn't go to school until end of middle school, and when I started it was hard, I skipped school, never finished an education. I wanted to... but I was way too far behind by that point, and with so many kids, grandma couldn't get all of us caught up. I encouraged her to focus on the younger ones. I tried getting a normal job, but I ended up meeting shitty people and I get ended up selling drugs and my body to get by. It wasn't great but it made me money. I had bad and sub-par relationships, nothing great. During my last relationship, I was actually starting to learn about boundaries and shit, feeling like it might actually go somewhere... and then I was killed during a bad drug deal," you looked back at Lucifer casually as you finished your story.

Lucifer looked at you with so much heartbreak in his eyes. No pity, no belittlement, no tears, just sadness. "How are you still so full of kindness then? After all of that?"

You smiled, "Partly cuz I can act, but mostly because... everything stupid, reckless, or "sinful" I ever did... it was for my siblings. I always thought that I would damn myself to hell so that they didn't have to." You shook your head, "I sure did damn myself to hell, but... I don't know how successful I was, my siblings always seemed mad or annoyed with me... but... I just loved them all so much."

Lucifer stood up and wrapped his arms around you as you remained sitting, your head at his chest level. You were taken by surprise, but hugged him back, "What's this for?"

He released you slightly from his hug, and held your face in his hands. "If you gave your siblings even an ounce of the care you have shown me, I know you were successful, and I know they will never forget the sacrifices you made for them."

Your eyes go wide, 'Could it... could it be? Could he be right? Could you have saved them? Saved them from the same pain you endured? Could your actions have changed the course of their lives? Could you have saved them from a fate in hell?' Tears started to form in your eyes. 'No. No. No no no no no. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, no crying in front of Lucifer.' You rip your face away from Lucifer's hands and wipe your face before the tears fall.

Lucifer ached to see you tear yourself away and wipe your tears. Until this moment, he had never realized how much of a wall you had up, how much you protected yourself, how much space you gave to him and how little you gave for yourself. He knew the dynamics were weird, this not being a normal friendship and all. Those dynamics were starting to make him so frustrated, he just wanted to hold you every night and tell you how much he cared about you... but things were way too messy now. He had no idea how to untangle this, and emotionally vulnerable conversations did not seem like the best idea right now with everything going on.

"Sorry," you say as you finish wiping your tears, "Thank you, really, I mean it. I'm just... not used to that."

Lucifer smiled, "Well... I hope this can be a good... beginning to that..."

'Nice job Lucifer, fucking nailed it, idiot.' he thought you himself.

You laugh, he laughed with you. Alright, enough of that, time for some tv and snuggles. You also remembered another question you had for Lucifer from you day at the hotel. You asked Lucifer about how he could teleport, and asked if the driver was necessary or if he could just pick you up from your apartment for your evenings together. He didn't know why he hadn't thought about that before, he had been worried about people following the car back to his place, or bothering you, and that would make him feel better. Plus, it would be cool to see your place. You guys made a plan for him to just teleport in to grab you in the future.

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The next couple of weeks were a weird mixture of fun and stressful, Lucifer started teleporting in to get you right at your set meeting time and he got to see your place. It was... small, really small, and there wasn't much to it. He made a comment oh how "minimalist" it was, but you just said you didn't need a lot, you weren't used to much, which wasn't completely a lie, but you didn't want to worry him with images of the other girls trying to break into your room.

Outside of that, Lucifer had the added stressors of worrying about Charlie, the hotel, and the upcoming extermination/war with Adam. You would go a visit the hotel crew with him often, but it only seemed to ease his mind while he was there. He started to complain again about struggling a little with sleep, he would fall asleep fine, especially with you there, but he started having nightmares that would wake him up in the middle of the night and would make it hard for him to fall back asleep. You were frustrated that you did not know how to help him with that, but you also knew he could take care of himself. You couldn't fix all of his problems.

You on the other hand... had reached a boiling point with Jethro. He continued to ignoring safe words, become more controlling, manipulative, and aggressive, until one day you had enough. You stopped the scene you were in and told him that he would not stand for his behavior anymore. Jethro did not like this, and you left his house with a black eye, as well as several other bruises across your body, may be even a sprain. You ran back to the Lounge as quickly as you could, trying desperately not to cry in public.

You got into the Lounge and ran up to your room to hide. Luckily, one of the girls you were closer to saw you, and told Larry. Larry texted you, asking what happened and if he could come up to talk to you. You agreed. Larry came up to your room, you opened the door for him to see you in tears, covered in bruises, trying to ice your eye. You told Larry what happened, and he told you he was putting Jethro on your "No Kiss List", banning him from the Lounge, and that he would handle Jethro if he tried coming back in.

You thanked him, he patted your shoulder, and asked if you wanted you clients canceled for the rest of the day. You asked who was left for the day, and the only one left was "Lance". You shook your head, just asking that no walk-ins get scheduled with you between then and now so that you could be ready by "Lance's" appointment. Larry agreed, and left you to your wounds. You had no idea how you were going to pull your yourself together and hide this all from Lucifer by tonight, but you had to try.

You went into the bathroom, ran a bath, played some music, and cried, partly from the pain, partly from fear. You were so in your head from the experience, that you did not do as well keeping track of time. Before long, Lucifer teleported into your room. Lucifer was a little shocked to not see you in your room, but then he heard the music from the bathroom. Oh ok, you must have been just running a little late.

He want to go knock on the door so that he knew you were there and didn't surprise you, but then he heard something else from the bathroom that made him stop. Was that... crying? Was that part of the music or was that you? He waited, the song changed, and the crying continued. That was definitely you. He finally knocked.

You were startled by the sound of the knock, "Uhhh... occupied?"

"It's me darling, I hope I didn't startle you," you heard Lucifer's voice through the door. You picked up your phone and looked at the time. Shit! You quickly got out of the tub.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, uhh... I must have lot track of time. Busy day. Lots of clients. Uhh... I'll be out in a minute!" you say has you hurried to get dressed. Luckily, you had already brought your clothes into the bathroom with you, so Lucifer wouldn't have to see all of the bruises.

"No rush! You take as much time as you need," Lucifer called back, then he went to go take a seat on your couch.

His words made you feel a little better, but you did not want to keep him waiting any longer than you already had. You quickly did what you could to put on makeup to cover up the big bruise around your eye, you could cover the coloring just fine, it was the swelling you were worried about. It had gone down a little, but it might still be noticeable.

Part of you wishes you had canceled on him, but that would have made you sad more than anything else, and it probably would have worried him. That is if he actually cared about you. Errrr... stop that. Lucifer is not like Jethro or the others, he actually does care, at least... to some amount. You just did not want anyone to see you like this, but especially him.

Eventually you finished your makeup and looked at yourself, it would have to be good enough for today. You painted your best sweet smile on your face, and walked out the door.

"All done! Ready to go?" you said cheerful.

"Yup!" Lucifer said, trying to match your cheerful tone, but he was worried. Why had you been crying? Why were you now trying to hide it? Why were you wearing so much make up today? He hadn't seen you wear this much make up since the first few appointments you guys had. He remembered that Charlie once said girls sometimes wear more make up when they were sad because "If you look better, you feel better", so he didn't comment. He just smiled, wrapped an arm around you, and teleported you both back to his place.

You were already more relieved to be back at his place, the stress of the day still held tightly to you, but it was better here. You swung your arms around Lucifer, enveloping him in a hug. Lucifer held you back tightly, softly but firmly. He was so comforting and soft, you wanted to live in that embrace.

He didn't know what was making you so sad that day, but he wanted to do everything to make you feel better. He had your favorite dinner and dessert made, grabbed you your favorite blanket for when you guys would cuddle on the couch and watch tv later, and he was going to find that tv last that you said you used to like to watch sometimes when you were alive, "The Office."

At one point, during desert, Lucifer looked over at you and saw a strand of hair flop down front of your face. He reached over to tuck it behind your ear, but because of the angle, you didn't see his hand until it was almost near your swollen eye. You flinched and practically jumped out of your chair, shouting "No!" and covering you eye with you hand, the other was wide with panic.

Lucifer flinched his hand back, and stayed still. What was that about? You had never reacted like that before.

"Darling, is everything alright? I didn't mean to startle you," he said softly, worry painting his face.

You realize you had misunderstood what he had been trying to do and panicked, 'Shit! Shit, shit, shit!' You couldn't tell what was the greater emotion in that moment, the shame of reacting to Lucifer, or the fact that the emotions from earlier where about to bubble up again. 'Do I try to push it down? Do I run for the bathroom? Shit. There is no hiding it, is there? He is going to find out about it now.'

You start to sit back down, still covering your eye, "I, uhh... I'm sorry... I don't... I didn't mean to yell at you like-"

"(y/n)" Lucifer said firmly, you look at him with your uncovered eye, tears starting to fill up the edge of your vision, "Please. Please tell me what's wrong. Why are you covering your eye? What made you jump so hard?"

You start to breathe heavily, "Are you sure you want to know?" you say with tears in your voice.

"Yes, my darling, I do. More than anything," Lucifer said, standing up slowly to come closer to you.

You look down, breathe, and lower you hand. Now that he was looking right at your eye, he could see how swollen it was under all of the make up.

"Is that... a black eye?" he said panicked. You nodded. He started to put some context clues together.

"Someone did this to you?" he asked, a little more sternness in his voice. You nodded again, the tears were starting to fall. "Someone from the Lounge?"

You nodded, "A client," you whispered.

"Did he do anything else?" he asked, trying to hold back the growing anger in his voice. You nodded. "Can you show me?" You froze, looking down, more tears falling, "Please don't be mad at me, I didn't want you to know, this shouldn't be something you worry about-"

"Darling," he says cutting you off again, "I am not mad at you, I am however mad at the sick fuck that did this to you. And I will worry about you, because I want to. Do you understand me?" You were not used to hearing him talk like this, it was scary, but in a comforting way. His words were growing in anger, but you understood it was not at you, it was for you.

You look up at him to see that his eyes had changed color, basically inverted, black slitted pupils now surrounded by golden irises and deep blood red sclera. They were terrifying and beautiful at the same time. You nodded, finally answering his question, and you started to take off your sweater. Lucifer saw your arms and torso littered with different sizes of bruises and deep bite marks. At the sight of them, horns grew out from his temples and a tail lashed out from his back. Again, he looked scarier, but for some reason, you were not afraid. You actually felt... safe? You had never seen someone so mad for you before.

Lucifer gently and slowly reached out for your arm, trying to make sure not to scare you further. "Is it like this on your legs too?" You nodded. You were about to ask if he needed to see them, when he pulled you into a tight hug. You were confused, but welcomed it. His hugs were always nice but this one felt, even better? All of your bruises and bites started to feel, lighter, and then the pain was gone. Lucifer released from your hug, and you looked down to see all of your marks were gone.

'He could heal too?! Fuck, is there anything he can't do?'

"Better?" he asked. You nodded. "Good, now. I'm gonna need a name and location. Now." he paused, "please."

You hesitated, you weren't supposed to tell anyone who you had been meeting with. But... he had not specifically asked for digression, and he was banned from the Lounge, and it would probably save Larry and the girls some trouble, and... fuck it, it was hell! Who cared!

"What are you going to do to him?" you asked. He smirked with a wicked smile, carefully reached out to softly hold your chin, and with a demonic resonance to his voice, he whispered, "Why darling, I'm going to make him suffer in a way that this realm has not tortured and tormented a soul in EONS, I am going to rip him his own dimension of time and space where he will be able to experience his body being ripped apart, piece by piece, and put back together, over and over again, for the rest of eternity."

You had no idea how to picture that and you didn't care... it was terrifying, but Lucifer's power was fucking HOT.

"Uhh... Jethro Hanson. Big house out in Pentagram city, near the inner city, very bright red, can't miss it," you spit out. He smiles, unfurls his six, big, beautiful wings from his back, gives you a soft kiss on the hand and says, "I'll be right back," before opening a portal above him and flying into it. It closes behind you and leaves you alone, in the dining room.

Your heart was racing, there were too many feelings swirling inside your mind, joy, sadness, rage, fear... lust. God, his full demon form was hot, what the hell? After a few minutes, the adrenaline wore off, and you found yourself on the couch starting to cry again, but this time... it felt GOOD. These tears were cathartic like nothing you had ever felt before, a hard, powerful cry.

After about 15-20 minutes, Lucifer reappeared, the same as he looked when he had left, just wiping his hands on themself after a job well done, as you would after a job well done. Lucifer heard your cries and ran to you, getting in his knees in front of you on the couch and cocooning you in his wings.

"Darling, what's the matter? I'm so sorry, did I scare you?" he said with words full of worry.

You shook your head, smiling and pressing your forehead to his, "No. Not at all. I'm just... I'm good. Really. I'm just not used to... feeling cared about, and... protected..." You choke out, before continuing to sob.

'Shit, shit, ok, what do I do?' he thought to himself. Then he remembered. He retracted his horns and tail, set his eyes back to their normal color, picked you up, laid down on the couch, and positioned you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, wings wrapped around you. As you laid there, he rubbed your back as you continued to cry. "And as long as I am here, you will never have to know life without that, ever again," he said softly, so softly that you couldn't make it out over the sound of your own sobs.

Slowly, your tears started get get quieter, and your breathing started to slow. As Lucifer laid there with you on his chest, he started to card his fingers through you hair. What a dream you were to him, he had be so cared for by you, and now he was able to give that care back to you. That was honestly all he had wanted, was to have someone to be cared by and for. To have... someone to love.

Love?

Love.

'Oh my god... do I love her?' he thought at he looked down at your soft face. Studying the features of your face as you laid on his chest with this new idea, everything suddenly made sense. The nervousness, the desire for closeness, the way you lit up his world, the way your smile would wash his cares away.

He loved you.

That was about to make everything wayyyy more complicated.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Killing Time 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Your frustration mounts as you click the permissions again to allow the camera and microphone access. It’s so annoying! It just keeps running you in circles. Great. This is off to a good start. Late for the interview. That’s always the best first impression. 

When at last your firewall stops blocking the call, you flinch at the sight of yourself in the corner. You’re further jarred by the man staring back at you. Your mouth opens and for a moment, you’re frozen. You were so focused on troubleshooting, you forgot about what was waiting on the other end. 

“Oh, hi,” you squeak. “Sorry, I--” you look around, glancing through the clear walls of the library study room. It’s the first time you’ve been to this branch but you didn’t think the clutter of your apartment would make a good backdrop. “I was having issues with my camera.” 

“Quite alright,” he responds with a grin and a lilted accent. He sounds as professional as he looks. 

He wears a grey jacket over a muted teal shirt that lights up his eyes, even over the screen. His short hair is combed back neatly and there’s not a speck of stubble on his jaw. Under the structure of his attire you can tell he’s well-built. 

You resist the urge to look down at yourself. A white blouse. Boring but professional. It gets the job done. Hopefully. 

You force a smile. 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he begins through your nervous silence. “I do appreciate your time and I would hate to waste it. So, we can hop right in.” He looks unflinchingly into the camera, “oh, let us not go so far past courtesy. I am James, we’ve been corresponding, yes?” 

“Uh, yeah, I remember. James.” You gulp. 

He says your name with a keen inclination. “This is rather not the position which requires those cliche questions so I won’t trouble you with asking what animal best reflects your personality.” 

You cough out a humouring chuckle and fold your hands on the desk. 

“Forgive if I should seem to the point. You see, it’s a very practical position. I think it’s best we go over what is expected before we go into the finer details; expenses, relocation, dates--” 

“Mm,” you squeak and put a finger up, “s-sorry, um, I thought we were interviewing but it sound like you’ve made a decision?” 

“Well, yes, I’ve reviewed your CV and your submitted profile and your answers to the questionnaire were acceptable. I didn’t think there was much else to consider,” he intones. You shift and try to hide your surprise. 

“No, of course, that makes sense,” you say. “Thanks, I guess I was confused.” 

“Not to worry. I find that written communication can often lack clarity so I thought it best we have a face-to-face in this circumstance,” he looks down as if he has a book or paper before him. “So, did you have any questions before I proceed?” 

“No, no, really, I'm sure you’ll answer them all.” Your cheeks bloom in a half-smile. You were so nervous about getting the job but you’ve already got it. 

“Right then,” he sits back and once more stares down the camera. “It is a very old property but the upkeep has been consistent. There should not be any glaring necessities for maintenance, this more of a custodial position. So, you would be the one to keep the place clean, make sure it is aired out, tend to the lawns but we do employ a grounds keeping service that comes fortnightly to trim.” 

You nod. It’s intriguing. You were sent photos of the property but you’re not quite sure of its purpose. Judging by the clustered pines in the background, you would guess it’s remote. A getaway that could be a goldmine for those wanting a vacation from the urban jungle. 

“You would have a roster, you see, of those you could contact for service so you will not require any specialisations. You are the day-to-day and would be expected to bring in the appropriate support for higher-touch difficulties.” 

“Right,” you try not to show your anxiety. 

“Albeit I should warn you that the reception in that location is not the greatest so if you cannot call out, you would need to keep trying. It will eventually catch but uh, not to mind, as long it is attended is what matters, not when,” he says.  

“Mhm, that makes sense. Um, can I ask what the property is? Is it like a summer home or...” 

“Ah, family inheritance,” he answers primly. “I’ve not much use for it past the sentimental value and I thought of leasing it for traveling parties but I’ve heard horror stories. Right now, I’m merely sitting on it until I figure out exactly what to do with it.” 

“Oh, right. Wow. Quite the inheritance.” 

“Hm, yes, my uncle did rather adore me. I was the only one named in his will but he was a bit of a curmudgeon.” He laughs. “Now, I must ask the most important question--” 

Before he can, the door swings open and you jump in your seat. Your heart sinks. You signed the room out for ninety minutes. You thought it would be more than enough. Surely it hasn’t been that long. 

Shoot. It’s him. How did he find you? You deliberately went out of your way so that he couldn’t. 

“Jake,” you stand and turn to him, trying to block the computer. “What are you doing?” 

“There you are,” he touches his chest as if he should be the one so afraid. “You didn’t come home--” 

You growl and cross your arms. 

“Jake, go away,” you grit out. “Not right now. Please.” 

“I had to make sure you’re okay,” he steps into the room and you push yourself back against the table. “Who else is going to look after you?” 

“I will scream, alright,” you warn. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired of telling you.” 

He sighs and his jaw squares. “I don’t get you. You act like I’m such a bad guy and I haven’t done anything to you. I never hurt you but you hurt me. You just spit in my face--” 

“Pardon,” the voice rises from the speaker at your back. “If I may, she is occupied and you are interrupting. I have a mind to contact emergency service should you persist.” Your mouth falls open and you turn to look at your laptop. James leans forward to glare at the lens, “Not sure who you are, fellow, but the lady has been clear.” 

“Who-- who is he?” Jake sputters. 

“Please, just go,” you plead. “Or I will call the police.” 

Little good they will do, you think, but that doesn’t need to be said aloud. 

He frowns and his eyes glint dangerously. You stare back at him, tense, fingers curling and uncurling nervously. That man on the screen won’t stop him and you don’t know if anyone would hear you from the desk. 

“Fine, guess I’ll see ya around,” he relents and backs out. 

You don’t move until he snaps the door shut. You hurry over and twist the lock on the inside. You don’t know why you didn’t do that before. 

“Are you alright?” James asks, drawing you back to the desk. 

You sit and look at the keyboard, “I’m very sorry. I...” 

“He doesn’t sound like a friend,” James says. You shake your head. “Well, then, it does sound like you’re in need of a fresh start. I do hope this can be that for you.” 

You look up and bat away the glimmer on the brims of your eyes. You’re not just afraid, you’re embarrassed. His kindness is as comforting as it is unexpected. 

“Thanks, um, anyway...” you exhale, “you were going to ask something.” 

“Yes, uh, yes, I was,” he reconfigures and puts another smile on. “When can you depart? I would of course arrange travel to be sure you get here safe and sound.” 

“Oh, when... whenever is best. Not to be too desperate but as soon as possible,” you say. 

“Wonderful,” he praises, “absolutely wonderful. Is tomorrow too soon? Pardon my own desperation.” 

“Tomorrow?” You utter and shake your head. “Tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.”  

It's sudden and scary but it’s good. The sooner you go, the less time Jake has to figure out what you’re doing. The less chance he can follow. It’s an escape. Not a perfect one but it’s all you have. 

🩸

You spend all night packing. You parse down what you have to the essentials and put the rest in bags. You don’t care about the furniture. You say as much in your email to your landlord, telling him to use your deposit for the disposal. 

You whittle your life down to three bags. A large suit case, a knapsack, and a single purse. You have it ready to go by the door. 

You feel uneasy about it. You stare at your luggage, the lights off, windows closed. Your phone buzzes and you put it to silent, ignoring the messages from your personal pest. You’ll be done with him too. You wonder if you should just toss your cell. 

You don’t sleep. You can’t. You still can’t believe you’re getting out. You hope you haven’t given the game away. 

There’s a tap on the window. You nearly roll onto the floor. You look over and hear it again, a harder impact. Are you serious? He’s throwing stones. He could break the damn glass. 

You shake your head. You won’t fall for it. Not again. You remember when he came to your door and cried until you opened up. He even smeared ketchup on his face to make you think he was hurt. It’s hard to tell the difference through a peephole. 

Almost there. Almost out. You just need to make it a few more hours. 

As you ignore the incessant tapping and the light of your phone glowing ever few minutes, your thoughts turn bitter. You should message everyone who turned their back on you and tell them exactly what they’ve put you through. Somehow, you think they’d care as much as they did before. 

Sleep eludes you but a foggy daze comes over you as the windows soften with the early morning. There’s no more pebbles bouncing off the pane. Just you and the buzz of the sleeping city. 

Your alarm chimes and you get up as your head pulses. You’re used to the constant fatigue. It will ease up and you’ll just feel a bit heavy. When it’s normal, you don’t notice as much. 

You get ready and have an instant coffee by the door. James messages just before nine. Your car will be there in ten. Oh, early. You don’t mind about that. 

You won’t go out and wait. You’ll stay here, where it’s safe. 

When your phone goes off again, you expect it to be Jake. It’s James. Whew. You’re so close, you can’t believe it. 

You grab your knapsack and purse, and drag your suitcase out behind you. You lock the door and throw the key through the mail slot. You hurry down the hall and take the stairs over the elevator.  

You don’t look back or anyway but forward. You look at your cell. 'Black Jaguar’ followed by a plate number. Jaguar? Holy moly. 

The tinted window rolls down and reveals the same face from the Zoom call. You didn’t know he was coming himself. You assumed he was sending a cab or something. You slow as you come out the door. He smiles and pops open the door. 

Before you can come forward, another figure appears, blocking your way. 

“Hey, I've been calling all night,” Jake says. You stop short and nearly yelp. Of course! 

“Jake, move.” 

“Where are you going?” He looks at your bags desperately. “Wait, you can’t--” 

“Pardon me, sir, is there some issue?” James strides up behind him. 

Jake turns to face him and stiffens, “and who are you—wait, you’re that guy from the computer.” 

“I’m none of your business, as is her life,” James insists. “Now, seems you’re used to picking on those smaller than you but let’s see how you do against me?” 

James steps closer. He’s a few inches taller than Jake. You can’t move as they stare each other down. You wait, expecting chaos. 

“I was only talking,” Jake shows his palms and shrugs. “It’s whatever. She’s a bitch anyways.” 

He turns and snarls over his shoulder at you. You back up. As Jake turns, he’s knocked off kilter as James hurls his fist into his jaw. The shorter man staggers and falls to one knee, catching himself in the grass. 

“Well, that was a lovely chat,” James smirks and beckons to you, “shall we?” 

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being ex-HYDRA and Bucky being your mentor

Bucky Barnes x teen!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: @marvelflame2010: “Hello, can you write headcanons for Bucky Barnes being a mentor to a teenager (around 15-16) that was ex-HYDRA and is trying to be a hero? read your request rules, so I hope that this is proper. Thank you!”

sometimes it felt like no one knew what you had went through, being abducted and forced to be a weapon for a secret organization whose purpose was to gain more control

but when you met these avengers, it felt like everyone and their momma knew what it was like

bucky barnes, for example

the winter soldier, a WWII soldier deemed missing in action, presumed dead, and happened to be a prisoner of war and beyond

the experimentation and mind control he endured was much like your own, which gave you some comfort

“does it ever feel weird hearing one of your trigger words as a civilian? you know, now that we got ‘reset?’” -you

“not…no, not really? who’s speaking russian around you, y/n?” -bucky

“uh…i mean, no one. i’ve just been watching a lot of russian tv recently” -you

“why would you naturally assume i am also doing that?” -bucky

“why did you assume i didn’t?” -you

ok, thats not the greatest example of bucky mentoring you, but it’s a great example of sarcastic bickering!

honestly, the hardest part was learning how to be gentle again

if you could even say you were ever gentle to begin with being taken so young

it was hard to be so ruthless and unfeeling and have to start feeling

the nights of panic and anxiety were the worst, they made you wish you had that switch in your mind still. you’d whispered the trigger words to yourself sometimes to see if they were still there and if they could “help” you turn off those feelings

but bucky knew. he knew and he learned and he stuck with you

“y/n, those feelings are good” -buck

“no! no, they’re not. why are you saying it’s good to feel bad? i can’t breathe! i can’t think!” -you

“because you have feelings now. it’s the same as when you’re happy. you get to feel happy, it comes with all that other stuff. you have options, opportunities, this is one of them. you just have to take deep breaths” -bucky

combat training was the strangest feeling

“nope. too hard” “pulling your punches now” “your aim there was lethal” “you can’t put that much force into a chokehold” “cutting someone’s finger off isnt cool, y/n. kind of a dick move” “you automatically try to inflict severe injuries, arteries should not be the go-to. disarm your enemy first, if anything”

nothing ever felt right

if you were fighting effectively, you’d risk killing someone, which isn’t what you do anymore

if you held back too much, you’d be injured or killed, and all this would be for nothing

there had to be a sweet spot, but it was never what you were trained for. you were trained to eliminate your targets by any means

but you understood bucky all the same

bucky was there to help you acclimate to the norm too

like, whatever that was

says the guy with the metal arm and fought in world war ii despite the fact it was now like. 2020-something

like a normal ass dinner

“you know, i rarely ever got to go out to eat as a kid” -bucky

“can you ever say something that doesn’t make you sound ancient?” -you

“hey, you wanna pay for your meal tonight or do you want me to?” -bucky

“sorry…” -you

you liked to watch dumb tv shows (the american kind) with him

he’d indulge for a few minutes and then walk off unless he was REALLY interested

actually, he really enjoyed the office

“which avenger would each character be?” -you

“don’t…don’t make me do that” -bucky

“come on! you know, i kind of think phyllis and bruce are alike. like, theyre soft until they get mad and then all bets are off” -you

“that is…dumb” -bucky

sam really loved that bucky was there for you

but he saw that bucky was kind of doing it to distract himself too

“you know, me and steve found bucky just minding his business a while back. all he wanted then was to be alone, mind his business. this? this was what he needed” -sam

“what? a teenage hydra defector?” -you

“i mean, if youre gonna put it that way” -sam

“no, i get what youre saying” -you

steve actually didn’t come up too much, you know?

you thought bucky was trying to keep himself in the present as much as he could

which was what you were trying to learn from him in the end. how to move forward

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[cleo-writes]

Overworked.

°•~《☆》~•°

Pairing: Leo valdez x gn!reader

A/n: Sorry for not posting a fic in awhile, I got a huge wave of demotivation (I'm also running a jason grace rp blog ( @jason-the-kabob ) )

Warnings: nothing!

Enjoy!

°•~《☆》~•°

When you walked into bunker 9, all you saw was a mad house.

Empty soda cans littering the floor, screws, scrap metal, and tools. Anything you would find in a hephestus kids' hands was littered around Leo Valdez's workspace in Bunker 9.

"Leo?" You called out after not seeing him in his usual seat. The reason you came into bunker 9 was to find leo after he missed lunch for the 4th time this week.

"Over...over here!" You heard his familiar voice call out. He sounded tired, worn down, frantic even.

You frown as you walk over to the source of Leo's call, where you find him rummaging through scrap pieces of metal and other machinery while mumbling under his breath.

"Uh, Leo? ... I brought you food." You said, your concern increasing with every mumble that escaped his lips.

"Yeah, yeah... thank you, I'll eat it later." Leo mumbled like he was in a trance. You were 95% sure he was going to forget about it until he accidently knocks it over.

You set down the plate of food on a nearby work table and grabbed Leo's arm to steer his gaze towards you.

Leo turned to meet your eyes. You saw the bags under his own half-lidded eyes and the pure exhaustion in them.

You immediately knew he needed rest. No matter how much he'll say 'he's fine' and 'doesn't need it'. Leo Valdez will be taking a nap, even if you have to knock him out.

"Leo." You said, your tone serious and yet concerned. Leo hummed in response, his attention focused only on you. Or at least, his eyes were solely focused on you. His hands were fidgeting with a piece of scrap machinery and metal.

"You need rest. You haven't slept in awhile—and dont try lying and saying you fell asleep while you were working, that does not count, Leo Valdez." You told him, looking him dead in the eye to try and get you point across.

Leo huffed and started on a ramble. "But—but i have so much stuff to get done! The demigod-safe phones, i-i just need to tweak a few things and then i promise I'll—"

You grabbed his chin, your face inches from leos, putting him in enough temporary shock to get him to stop talking. You could feel his breath spreading over your face.

"Sleep." Was all you said.

Leo whined but gave in.

He sleepily stumbled over to his couch in the corner of bunker nine which was covered in both pillows and blankets, plopping down on his back with a loud 'mmph!'

Leo looked to you with pleading eyes, and you knew what was coming next. You wished you would've left as soon as he hit the couch.

Leo made these grabby-grabby hands towards you with a whine.

"Cuddleeeee." He whimpered.

"Leo, this is why there are rumors spreading around camp about us having an affair or something."

"I don't care. C'mere or I'm not sleeping."

"Your siblings will find us here. They'll–"

"C'mereeee."

Well, you weren't just gonna let him die of exhaustion.

With a dramatic groan, you walked over to Leo, who was laying comfortably with half-lidded eyes and waiting for you to join him.

You sighed deeply before plopping down onto Leo's chest and wrapping your arms around his torso.

Leo's embrace was rather... warm. It was comforting, like how a home should feel.

Leo wrapped his arms carefully around you, tracing circles around your back. You shivered at the soft, yet hot touch.

You're a little glad you didn't leave so soon.

This was nicer than you expected.

You carefully nuzzled up into Leo's neck, triggering a shiver out of him.

Gods, he was so warm. Why was he so comfy? It seems a little abnormal to feel this much like a home.

"Maybe," Leo spoke all of a sudden, though his voice was quiet and sleepy.

"Maybe this should happen more often." He whispered.

You took In his words, slowly memorizing the way he pronounced every word subconsciously.

"...maybe. though, you shouldn't be one step into the grave next time." You retorted back, a little... relived he was just as eager for other moments like this.

You had never been more peaceful.

Leo chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll take better care of myself. For you, love." He whispered into your ear, his breath hot against you.

"You...you better." You mumbled, a little thrown of course by the petname. You snuggled into him further like it was the only thing keeping the both of you alive.

Leo only chuckled, but you knew the truth.

On the inside, he was estatic to have this with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

°•~《☆》~•°

Finally, I finished a little blurb :)

[rhiannswork]

Omg Miguel ohara x drunk reader would be amazing thxxx

m. o’hara || “bar.” read 21:56

a/n: i was writing this @ an airport so i didn’t wanna spend time trying to think about any astronomical prodigious voluminous colossal words or trying to make this oneshot poetic or anything. enjoy! p.s. i’ve never gotten drunk before i’ve only gotten high so 💀

warnings: drunk, mentions of vomit, mentions of being kidnapped, that’s it i think

BUZZ BUZZ you felt your phone vibrate in your bra. your vision was slightly disoriented so it took you a couple of tries to even get in your phone. you saw the message notification from miguel, asking for a pin of your current location.

you believed that providing him with your location directly would be simpler than sending a pin to help him find you.

you adeptly typed, stringing together words that even shakespeare might envy, utilizing every term in the dictionary. your hands, experiencing cramps in the process. ‘bar.’

on miguel's side, he was nearly pacing back and forth, expecting a ransom letter from your kidnapper or some substantial information, and all he received was that brief message.

‘which one, cariño?’

you sighed as he couldn’t understand where you were. it was pretty plain and simple. you gave in and sent a pin. after that, you really don’t remember what was going on.

you came back to reality, found yourself laid in the back of miguel’s car. hozier quietly flowing out of the speakers. “this car is so nice, miggy…” you spoke with your face almost mushed in the seat.

"yeah?" miguel’s soft chuckle resonated, his deep voice nearly rendering him incomprehensible. "yeah," you responded, sharing a giggle with him.

“try not to be sick in here then, okay? we just have a few minutes left ‘til we get home.” you hummed as a reply, drifting away from reality once more.

you heard the car door open, your glossy eyes looking up at miguel’s tall figure. miguel swooped you up from the back. it was too fast for you. “don’t feel so good miggy.”

in a state of panic, miguel felt unsure of what to do next. should he quickly run to the bathroom? no, that’s what had triggered this situation. his gaze shifted to the trash bins in your garage, contemplating an alternative solution.

he walked over to them and popped the lid up, thankfully, trash day was that morning so there was no trash in the bin. he would still have to clean it out though.

your body never reacted well to alcohol, it always resulted to vomiting somewhere other than the restroom. this time, the victim was the roll bin.

"there you go, good girl," miguel comfortingly rubbed your back as you still felt a bit lightheaded and dehydrated. "i’m thirsty, miggy," you murmured, leaning your head back against his chest.

"alright, let's get you some water, baby," miguel said gently as he lifted you up, holding you in a swaddled manner. you rested your head on his chest and patiently waited as he carried you into the kitchen.

"put me on the countertop, it's cold," you instructed, pointing to the island counter. his laughter resonated through his chest as he carefully set you down on the cool surface. the cold marble sent a shiver through your backside.

miguel walked to the refrigerator, retrieved a bottle of water and a container filled with grapes. "here," he offered, handing you the water and keeping a watchful eye as you took sips.

you paused your drinking and set the water beside you. "nah uh, i want you to finish all of that before you eat these grapes," miguel insisted, his tone firm. he proceeded to wash the grapes and place them in a bowl.

with a groan, you chugged the remaining water in the bottle. "now the grapes, please...?" you requested, opening your mouth and patiently awaiting for miguel to feed you.

"of course, princess y/n," he replied with a smile, placing a grape in your mouth. you chewed with a content smile on your face.

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers pt 12

Gif not mine

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Chapter Summary: Oh no, a melt down! But make it fluffy at the end

Warning: Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist with parts 1-11 here

A/N: Sorry I am late, life has been... busyyyyyy. But I'm trying to keep up with writing and posting!

Returning to the cottage, as much fun (and terrifying) as the date had been, you longed to take a shower. You were fairly certain you were covered in a layer of grime that combined dirt, sweat, and various animal fur. Also, Australia had been hot as fuck, if you could help it, that shower was going to be nice and cold even if it would be a bit of a shock to the system.

“Dibs!” you shouted, as you booked it to your shared room, stripping as you ran. It would probably be polite to let the woman who had planned all of this to go first, but if you had to tolerate one more second of this ~texture~ against your skin, as much as you loved Wanda, you knew you were going to turn into an intolerable bitch.

Wanda simply laughed at your antics and followed. You could call dibs all you liked, but if you thought she was going to wait for you to get out of the shower before she joined, you were sorely mistaken. A salacious smirk crossed her features as she imagined your expression when she surprised you. She would wait a little though, taking her time letting you get situated while she undressed.

The moment the cool water touched your over-heated flesh you hissed. It wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as you had expected, in fact it was a relief. Knowing you were going to have to scrub to get the grime off, still you could feel some of it already sliding off with the mere pressure of the water and that was enough to ease some of the overstimulation to your senses. Somehow you had managed to avoid showing Wanda your more obvious symptoms when overstimulated, usually keeping them managed. A lifetime masking them, learning your triggers, and thresholds, you had learned how to de-escalate yourself.

Today certainly had been a lot. Overall, it was a great day. There were certainly bumps in the road but between Wanda being just perfect, and you working to get your mask under control, everything had been manageable. By the time you had gotten into the shower though, you felt as if you were about to claw your own flesh off. It wouldn’t be too long, you just needed a little bit to decompress and for the love of the gods, get that grime off your skin.

This was why you had called dibs. There was only one shower, and while Wanda could easily have conjured a second one if you had asked her, you didn’t want to put her out after she already had done so much for you. However, you were afraid if you didn’t get clean immediately you were going to have a meltdown from which there was no hiding, nor recovering. After Wanda had already told you she had more still planned for the evening, you didn’t want to risk ruining that, so dibs you called, and fled promptly to the shower.

What you hadn’t expected was for Wanda to join you shortly thereafter, and really, you probably should have after your conversation this morning. When the older woman stepped in behind you, a scream nearly ripped itself from your throat.

“Hello there, detka.” voice husky, just behind your ear.

“W-Wanda, hey! W-uh, what are you doing here? In the shower, with me?” Your voice cracked, and you refused to turn around lest she see your panicked face.

The witch chuckled, thinking you were simply flustered. “I thought after our conversation this morning it would be quite clear. I’m showering with you. Like I said, I won’t bite. Much.”

Soft hands came up to frame your body, pausing as you froze in her grasp.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” She removed her hands from your body.

It was too late. Your mind was a tumultuous whirlwind, what little touch she had provided, gentle as it was, was simply too much, and you wanted to scream, cry, lash out. None of those things were acceptable, and you didn’t want to hurt the love of your life in any way, so instead you completely shut down. Not intentionally, you were simply incapable in that moment of verbalizing what was happening without an outpouring of emotion accompanying it.

Nevertheless Wanda found herself buffeted by your thoughts and emotions, though she couldn’t clearly discern any one in particular. Only distress.

“Dorogoya, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

More silence.

“Y/N I try not to do this, but I’m worried for you. Is it okay if I read your mind to understand what’s going on? To know how to help you?”

A nearly imperceptible nod was all the witch needed. Honestly, even if you hadn’t given it, she probably would have done so anyway. It wasn’t… the best moral decision, but seeing you so upset and not knowing why or how to help made her so worried. Green eyes radiated a soft scarlet, as Wanda filtered through your thoughts and emotions.

Fear, embarrassment, shame, discomfort, gross, overwhelmed, too much, make it stop, make it sto-

Wanda retreated from your thoughts. She had suspected that you were Autistic, but never knew if you’d had a formal diagnosis. There had been little signs, though today’s incident with the horse, and just now confirmed it for her. She hated that you felt as if you had to hide this from her, even if she understood why though

Your comfort came first and foremost. Utilizing her magic, she instantly cleansed the pair of you, removing the dirt, sweat, and grime before turning the water off and leaving you both in silence. Not wanting to overwhelm you, she spoke gently, directly into your mind.

“I’m sorry, lyubov moya, I didn’t know. You have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s okay, you’re okay. I still love you, and I’m still here. I’m going to be in the bedroom when you are ready, love. Take your time, but know that no matter what, I will never abandon you.” Though the older woman longed to place a kiss to the back of your neck reassuringly, from what little she knew, Wanda believed it wouldn’t be helpful to you now. Focusing instead on what was best for you she kept her word, heading to the bedroom to make some changes in preparation for your arrival.

To any normal person, Wanda’s reassurances would probably have been enough, but all you could think was this was it: She was finally going to realize just how broken you were and leave just like everyone else did. Just like your parents always said everyone would. Gods you needed therapy. You really needed to remember to ask Wanda if she could help set that up for you. If she didn’t go running for the hills that is.

In an effort to stop your spiral, you focused on your breathing. In for four, hold for four, exhale for four. Once that was under control, you began taking into account three things you could see, three things you could smell, three things you could touch, and so on. Grounding yourself was key, and you were careful not to look at anything too bright, to sniff too hard, or touch any textures that were not known pleasant ones. You could do this. You could recover, and when, not if, when you did, you would go out and promise Wanda you could change. That you would get better.

You couldn’t. Change, that is, but you would get better at masking. You had done it before, you would do it again. Anything as long as you could convince Wanda to keep you by her side. At this point, you didn’t think you could stand going back to the real world. Aside from the very real fear that you would have to live with your parents again (which again, you were positive they wouldn’t take you back anyway so.. homeless) and you would almost rather die than put yourself through that again. Now that you knew what it was like to be truly cared for by another person, you could admit that the way your parents had treated you was not how parents should treat their children, even as adults.

There was also the fact that you had fallen head over heels for the witch, genuinely enjoying being in her presence. Yes, you would like to make some additional friends, but you were sure you could get Wanda to eventually warm up to that. With these outings, she didn’t seem to mind you interacting with any of the staff and if she really wanted you to be happy, she would have to let you make friends. She could be won over on that topic, Wanda was just afraid to lose you, but once convinced you were hers, she would loosen the reins a little. You were certain of it.

Now though, you were terrified of losing it all over your meltdown. It had to be fixed. You had to be better. Wanda deserved at least that. Gathering all your courage (which admittedly wasn’t much, but for Wanda, you would find some), you left the shower, drying off. Mentally you were preparing everything you would say to the witch to convince her to keep you. It’s not like you were above begging.

As you stepped foot into your shared bedroom, a quiet gasp escaped you. The cottage-core style bedroom you had become familiar with had been completely transformed. More modern, the lighting was a soft, pale lavender. In the corner where previously had been a small television was now a zen waterfall, the water trickling soothingly. Your bed had been modified: It appeared to have a low hanging canopy completely encircling the bed with only one entrance, making it a perfect little nest.

To say you were speechless would be an understatement. A second ago you had been gearing yourself to come out and beg the witch to not throw you out, to plead your case that you could change and were worthy of keeping around. Not for a moment had you expected to come out and find that the witch had redone the room into an entirely sensory friendly experience just for you.

“I- what’s all this?” You could very well see, but you wanted verbal confirmation, not trusting yourself, as always.

Wanda spoke and you didn’t think you had ever heard her voice this soft.

“Darling, you were having a hard time. I just wanted to make things easier for you, so I made the room a bit more… friendly.. for you. What good are all these powers of mine, if I don’t use them to help the one I love most?”

Your throat tightened at that four lettered word.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.” I’m not worth it, went unsaid, but as usual Wanda knew.

“Of course I did, detka. You mean everything to me. I’m sorry for not realizing you were hurting earlier and just barging into the shower with you. I should have asked. I didn’t, I just assumed, and I’m sorry. You were just trying to decompress, and I made it so much worse for you. That’s never what I want for you, lyubov.”

Wanda sat on the chaise lounge, wanting nothing more than to take you into her arms, and hold you until all your bad feelings went away, but this was about what you needed, not what she wanted. So she waited for you.

With tentative steps, you walked further into the room, taking it all in. How could you have thought moments ago that this wonderful woman would ever possibly throw you out? How many ways could she say and demonstrate that she loved you and was here for you?

A few steps more and you were within arm's length of the redhead. Wanda observed you curiously as your lower lip trembled and your eyes watered. Before she could ask you what was the matter, you threw yourself at her. Only a decade of Avenger honed reflexes enabled her to catch you in her arms, preventing the pair of you from tumbling to the floor. Lightly muscle arms held to her as you cried into her neck, your entire body wracked with sobs.

Comforting words in her native Sokovian were muttered softly in your ear as Wanda held you. One hand behind your head pressed you firmly but gently into her neck, the other ran soothing ministrations up and down your back. It wasn’t long before you had cried yourself out, laying exhaustively in her arms, only whimpering occasionally.

“Malyshka, do you want to get into the bed and make a nice nest?”

Stubbornly you shook your head. That would involve parting from Wanda, and you didn’t want to do that. Wanda was solace. Wanda was safe. Wanda… was home.

Said woman chuckled at your rather loud, if childlike thoughts. Too precious. She was grateful the little research she had been able to do while you were in the shower had paid off. There hadn’t been much time, but fortunately thanks to Wanda’s magic, it hadn’t taken her long to get everything ready.

“What if I get in bed with you, malysh?”

A pause as you contemplated. Finally, you gave a single nod in acceptance. You made no move to get up though. If Wanda wanted to get you into bed, she could finagle that herself, but you weren’t willingly leaving her arms unless it was over your cold, dead body.

Though you weren’t able to see it, the witch rolled her eyes fondly at your antics. Fortunately, the same training which afforded her superior reflexes also improved her overall fitness and strength. She was no Thor, but Wanda could certainly lift you with relative ease, and so she did, carrying you over to the bed. With some awkward shuffling, she eventually had you both situated comfortably. Initially Wanda had set you as the little spoon, your go to position for cuddling. However, it only took a moment for you to decide that was not what you wanted, and you swiftly rectified the situation by rolling over and burying yourself in her arms, wiggling happily.

A surprised giggle left the older woman, but she loved when you got like this. How tactile you could be. It wasn’t possible for your bodies to be physically closer unless they were literally fused together, but you were clearly bent on trying to be. The former avenger could feel your fingers periodically flexing against her sweater (specifically chosen due to its soft texture in the hopes it wouldn’t irritate should it come into contact with you), unable to actually pull her any closer, but squeezing anyway.

No words were spoken for some time. Without moving, and therefore no access to a phone or watch, Wanda couldn’t say for certain exactly how much time had passed, but it was probably at least an hour if not a bit more. She had planned more for your evening, but with how content you were in her arms, the world could be on fire and she wouldn’t dare move you. Your eyes had closed a long time ago, breathing evened out. One could almost mistake you for having fallen asleep if it weren’t for how every so often you would nuzzle under Wanda’s chin. Every time you did, her heart melted. She was glad you were feeling better, and if you never got to go on the rest of the date tonight, that was just fine with her.

You however, had not forgotten. This lovely nest Wanda had created for you had done the trick. Well, that and cuddling with your favorite person. You weren’t sure what time it was, but you hoped it wasn’t too late. Lethargically, you disentangled your limbs from the witch’s so you could stretch and yawn (if Wanda’s intrusive thoughts to poke your tongue with her finger almost won, well, that was her business).

“Hey Wands?” You asked quietly, not wanting to break the spell of comfort entirely just yet.

“Yes, detka?”

“I don’t know what else you had planned for today, but if it’s not too late, can we still go out?”

Unbeknownst to you, even if it had been too late, Wanda had the capability to turn back time, such was the magnitude of her powers, but she wouldn’t bother you with that just now. Instead, she smiled at your eagerness.

“Of course, lyubov. Are you sure you’re up for it though? You don’t have to do that for me, if you want to stay here for the rest of the night and cuddle, that’s perfectly alright by me.” Hooking her index finger beneath your chin, she tilted your face to make eye contact with you, gauging your reaction to her words.

Ever the considerate one, you thought fondly.

“I’m sure. I was really excited to go, and if it’s alright with you, I would like to still go, please?”

Sensing your sincerity, Wanda grinned and crawled out of bed with you, helping you out when your foot got tangled in the sheets and had stumbled.

“I would love to, Y/N. Look in the closet for something semi-formal, and we can head out.”

Semi-formal? Where were you going? One of these days this woman was going to spill the beans, or you were going to tickle it out of her, you thought boldly.

The witch whirled back to arch an eyebrow at you daringly. Gulping, you acquiesced that formal was fine, asking instead how long you had to get ready. Technically you had all the time in the world, but Wanda gave you a timeline of about an hour for expediency's sake.

As Wanda left you to get ready, though where she went, you weren’t sure, you both shared a bedroom. However, when you opened the closet, it became clear the woman must have used her magic to transform it for you - everything in it was to your taste. There must be another closet for her elsewhere in the house. Or maybe she didn’t even need a closet? Perhaps she could simply conjure her clothing around herself, you were pretty certain you had seen her do that once after a shower with pajamas. You appreciated that she was allowing you to pick your own outfit, realizing she could simply dress you herself.

Heat bloomed across your cheeks, finding the thought more appealing than you probably should. It was healthy to have some level of independence in a relationship, right? Somewhere in the recesses of your mind the initials of a lifestyle pricked at your curiosity, but you pushed them back. You weren’t… one of those people, and surely neither was Wanda. Even if… part of you wondered what could be.

Disregarding such thoughts, you focused on perusing the closet in search of something to wear for the evening. Semi-formal, semi-formal. how convenient that the entire closet was filled with such attire, all in different cuts, styles, and colors. Half tempted as you were to find the witch and see what she was going to be wearing so you could compliment her, you deigned instead to trust in her instincts. Wanda never let you down, and even if you clashed, there were plenty of other options for you to change into.

Eventually you settled on a soft charcoal blazer, cream button up, the top two buttons left undone, dark grey chinos cuffed at the bottom, and black Oxfords. Briefly you debated on a tie, but Wanda had said semi-formal, so you thought the tie might be too much. To touch it up a little though, you added a classic silver and black Rolex Daytona, and a few of your black rings. A look at yourself in the mirror, and honestly, you felt pretty good.

Lately that has been the case. You wouldn’t say you couldn’t recall the last time you looked in the mirror and felt the need to vomit at your appearance, you absolutely could, and it was recently. These days though weren’t nearly as bad as it had been in the past, and they were definitely occurring less often than you were used to. The last time it had happened, Wanda had held your hair back while you emptied out the contents of your stomach into the toilet, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. By then she was long familiar with these episodes, and they broke her heart for you.

So ingrained was your mothers scathing, hateful voice in your brain that it had practically become your own. Often whispering vile, untrue and derogatory words, belittling yourself to the point of making yourself physically ill. The witch could only imagine what that must have been like growing up hearing all of it in person from someone who was supposed to have provided you with words of love and support instead.

Now though, you felt pretty dapper. Lightly mussed hair, a crooked grin upon your lips, eyes sparkling with happiness, one might even say you looked dashing. A thrill ran through you at your appearance, and that you were even capable of admitting it to yourself that you weren’t totally trash. Pleased overall with your appearance, you took a gander at your watch for the time - definitely early. You set off in search of your favorite person, hoping to catch her with enough time to see what she was wearing in case you needed to change because what you were wearing clashed with her outfit (poor you, grey goes with just about everything, apparently).

You didn’t have to search far, in the living room watching her shows was Wanda. Mouth suddenly dry, you struggled to swallow. You thought her outfit for your last date had been unfairly attractive on her - what she was wearing now should be a crime against your libido. Mommy? Sorry.

Crushed velvet blood red blazer, white button up done all the way to the collar, the length of the cuffs exaggerated extending beyond the blazer. Her legs were crossed, drawing your attention to her pants which were made of the same material and color as the blazer and tapered nicely to her ankles, leading your eye line to her beige heels. You gulped loudly, drawing the woman’s attention to your presence.

She took a moment to look upon your form appreciatively, eyes dark. “You look very handsome, detka.”

“Sdjka error..” you whispered to yourself quietly, not realizing this was an outside thought.

The redhead full on belly laughed and you blushed furiously, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

Not wanting you to remain too embarrassed for long, Wanda stood to embrace you, kissing your cheek. “Thank you, for the compliment” she couldn’t resist one last tease before wrapping her arm low around your waist, settling her hand on your hip.

You just mumbled, letting her move you as she saw fit, before finally being able to speak again properly. “You look amazing, Wands, truly.”

Her smile could power a small sun.

“Are you ready, lyubov?”

Excitement returned as you remembered what you were dressed up for. Subtly you tried to contain your bounces to a minimum, settling for a small wiggle. “Please?”

The telltale portal appeared before you and Wanda escorted you through. First thing you were able to tell, it was noticeably cooler than the one you set foot through this morning. Not Australia then. You tried not to show your relief. The country was beautiful, and you loved petting the cows, and the horses, but.. you did not want to go back too soon. The faintest scent of the ocean invaded your nostrils - it wasn’t likely in walking distance, but this was definitely an oceanic city.

A quiet tree-lined street, the sounds of traffic were distant. A brick lined building stood out, with a brass plaque along it, in elegant text: Quince. It must be a restaurant, likely Italian if you had to guess. Arm still wrapped around your waist, Wanda led you in its direction, and you followed your shepherd. Ever the gentlewoman, she opened the door, gesturing for you to proceed. As you entered into the vestibule, you saw the maître d’, decked out to the nines waiting for you expectantly. Panicked, you froze, having no idea what name the reservation was under. A people person, you were not, you didn’t even make your own doctor appointments if you didn’t have to.

Fortunately for you, Wanda was immediately back by your side, and to your surprise, the man seemed to be expecting her. “Ah, Ms. Maximoff, right on time! This way, please.”

You looked at her quizzically. How could you be on time after everything? Oh. Right. Magic. A wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to, you quoted silently to yourself and tried not to chuckle at your Lord of the Rings reference.

“Thank you, Jacobsson. Come on, detka.” Her arm was back around your waist, gently pulling you along behind the maître d’ as he led you through the restaurant. From the plaque and the man’s attire alone you had guessed the place was fancy, but you’d had no idea what you were about to walk into. Entering into the main dining area, the walls lined with brick, accented with beautifully stained mahogany, but what really stood out were the chandeliers that peppered the ceiling. Those couldn’t have been cheap glass. You squinted. Those had to be real crystal. Shit, how fucking expensive was this place? You looked at Wanda, attempting to sus out just where she had brought you.

As usual, the older woman gave nothing away, hers a perfect poker face. Knowing you would get nothing from her, you continued to take in the restaurant. Seemed a bit odd that no one else was there.

Suddenly Jacobsson began speaking, drawing your attention back. “Quince first opened it’s doors in 2003 by Chef Michael Tusk and his wife, Lindsay, in Pacific Heights. The restaurant moved in January 2023, highlighting the 20-year anniversary, to our current location here in Jackson Square, which incidentally is next door to our sister restaurant, Cotogna. Quince is one of only five other restaurants in California to boast three Michelin stars. (ehhh, google had conflicting info on all of this, suspend your disbelief) Here at Quince, we abide by a farm-to-table ethos in creating our contemporary Northern Italian cuisine. Chef Tusk works with ingredients from local farmers, ranchers, fishmongers and creameries—building on relationships that, in some cases, reach back 20 years. What’s more, the chef does much of the food shopping himself, often traveling to nearby Marin County for meat, produce and eggs.”

Oh. That… explained so much. Jesus Christ, you didn’t want to know how much this place was going to cost. Not that you were going to be able to tell - places like this didn’t post the prices on their menus. It wouldn’t matter, Wanda was never going to dream of letting you contribute, much less pay, which to be fair, what little funds you had left were dwindling from the last few times she had agreed to compromise and let you contribute. There wasn’t much left for you to make a dent in anything.

Sensing your anxiety, as always, the hand on your waist gripped a little tighter, thumb running soothingly up your side. Soon enough Jacobsson had brought you to your table. There wasn’t any place inside that could be considered secluded, the restaurant seated a mere ten tables. Since there weren’t any other guests though, combined with the ambiance of the lighting against the dark mahogany, the vibe felt very intimate.

The redhead pulled out your chair for you, pushing you in once you had gotten comfortable in it before taking her own seat. Jacobsson handed you both your menus, informing you that your waiter would arrive shortly, and the chef would be out in a little while to greet you. Once the man left, you turned to Wanda, eyes wide almost accusing.

“Madam!” Your voice was playful but exasperated.

Wanda’s in turn dripped with faux innocence. “What is it, detka?”

“You know very well what it is. Three Michelin starred restaurant? No one else here, and the host just gives us the whole restaurant’s history and then the freaking chef is going to introduce himself to us?! I know you have a black card, Wands, and I know we never exactly discussed your financial situation, but do I even want to know how much all this cost for you just to arrange, let alone the dinner?”

The witch considered you, weighing the likelihood of your actually being upset versus just not used to being spoiled. “Dorogoya, I want to spoil you, why are you concerned with money? I have more than enough to cover it?”

A strangled noise escaped your throat. “It’s not that I doubt if you have the funds, Wands, I just.. it’s a lot of money to be spending on me. I don’t have any way to repay you, and I could never afford to treat you to something this nice. It feels… uneven.”

The root cause of your concerns were two-fold, and Wanda understood. Hoping to alleviate your concerns, she explained. “Y/N, first of all, there is never an amount of money that is too much to spend on you. You deserve the world, and as I will continue to tell and show you over and over again, one day you will believe me. It brings me joy to spoil you. I don’t want nor expect you to “repay” me, as you put it. I can understand how you might view my treating you to such extravagances as “uneven”, but detka, you provide me with so much more with just your presence than money could ever provide. I don’t need you to take me out to a fancy dinner to make me feel loved.”

You bristled slightly. “And you think that I do?”

Wanda sighed, gathering her thoughts to explain. “Of course not, lyubov. You know of.. Americans say “love languages”? One of my preferred methods to show how much I care is to give gifts. It is not the only method, simply one of many. I know however that it is more about how you prefer to receive love, but I also know that I cover those you prefer with words of affirmation, physical touch, and quality time. So please, Y/N, indulge me in this? It makes me happy to make you happy. Unless you’re telling me it doesn’t make you happy? In which case I will respect you of course, and we can leave immediately.”

When the witch looked at you so earnestly, how could you help but give in? It was a nice gesture, and when would you ever get an opportunity to go to any of the places she had taken you to otherwise? Really, you felt a little shitty, like maybe you were spitting in the face of her generosity.

“Okay, Wands. But since we are on that topic, I wanted to speak with you a bit about having some more equality in our relationship?”

If it were physically possible, Wanda’s heart would have sunk into her stomach. Desperately she tried to think of what you could be referring to. In what ways were you unequal? Honestly, there were several, but that was a pill she wasn’t ready to swallow. But you were looking at her so timidly, afraid of her reply, and wasn’t that exactly what she didn’t want? Swallowing harshly, the woman nodded, prepared to ask you to elaborate when the waiter arrived.

He introduced himself as Matteo and asked for your drink orders. Afraid of what was coming, you surprisingly ordered a double shot margarita, feeling the need for some liquid courage. Wanda on the other hand, felt the need to keep a cool head, so she stuck with water, and a simple Chardonnay that was mostly for appearance’s sake. Matteo then read off the specials and left the pair of you to your devices.

An uncomfortable silence overtook the table. This was not what Wanda had envisioned for the night, and you felt terrible for ruining things. Still, if you didn’t bring it up while you were thinking about it, you never would. You were like that, bring it up in the moment, or never. Or rather, bring it up 4 months later after stewing on it to the point of explosive anger, and neither of you deserved that.

Eventually Wanda broke the silence. “So, you mentioned… equality in the relationship?”

“Oh, yes.” Slowly you took a steadying breath. This conversation could go one of two ways. Wanda had made such good progress with you and being less controlling, but had she made enough to make this request work?

“So in every healthy relationship,” you stressed the word healthy. “People do things like go to work, or school, or see friends.”

Wanda tensed. She thought you were passed this. She really didn’t want to have to forcefully block such impulses from your mind, that felt… like blocking off a crucial part of what made you, well, you. Begrudgingly she listened, if only to buy herself time to formulate an argument against it.

“I’m not asking to go back home, or anything like that. I’m just asking if like.. I would like to feel productive, I guess? I want to learn some new skills. I get that you said I don’t need a job, and I’m trusting you on that. But there are things I would like to learn simply because I would like to know more about them. To add to that, I would also like to have my own money to buy small things I like when we are out.”

Wanda started to interrupt, but Y/N held up her hand, and Wanda bit her cheek.

“I know, you want to pay for everything, and for the most part I have tried to let you. Please understand though that it makes me sort of uncomfortable to allow you to pay for absolutely every single thing. Plus then when I want to buy something for you, it’s with your own money and that just seems wrong to me. I want to buy you something with the money that I’ve earned.”

It killed her inside, but the witch nodded for you to continue. Pleased that she hadn’t exploded, you hurried to get out what was probably going to kill the whole deal.

“Lastly, I… I want to make friends, Wanda.”

Eye twitch. It didn’t go unnoticed, and you rushed your next sentence before she could change her mind and stop you.

“It’s just not healthy to only have each other. I really like you, like.. so, so much. I love spending time with you more than anything else in the world and I don’t want you to think that I would ever rather spend time with anyone else. But I also know that we have to have other people in our lives, or we’ll sour our own relationship, so if we could please try making friends? I’m not even asking to make friends separately!”

At this point you were about to beg. “We could look for a couple friends and go on double dates and stuff! Wouldn’t that be cute?” You appealed to her weakness: your nearly undeniable puppy eyes.

Silence stretched for what felt like infinity while Wanda considered all you had said. Finally, she opened her mouth to respond, when the Chef came out to introduce himself.

He was a very nice man, and spoke for a few minutes about the menu, where the ingredients were sourced that day, and how happy he was that she had chosen his restaurant. He hoped she would enjoy their dinner and told her if there was anything they didn’t like to please not hesitate to let him know and he would make it right. Wanda politely conversed and agreed, and at any other time she would have probably thoroughly enjoyed his conversation but right now she just wanted him to be gone. She should just stop time right now and hash this out but she didn’t want to risk ruining anything by being hasty.

When the chef left, Wanda could have cheered. Instead, she took a breath to settle her thoughts. As much as she hated to admit it, you made valid, rational points. These were all things you really wanted, enough to withstand several memory wipes, enough to bring it up with her, and so timidly knowing she would probably be upset. The last time that you had brought it up and she hadn’t wiped you, she had shot you down non too graciously. It wasn’t that she had blown up, per se, rather she had completely shut the conversation down.

Wanda weighed her options. She could wipe you, yet again, but at this point she was only putting off the inevitable. She could force the independence out of you, erasing that part of your identity. She could shut the conversation down once again, and as passive as you were, that would buy her time. There was no doubt in her mind though you would come to resent her for it, as you would the other options should they ever to light. Alternatively, Wanda could agree to your terms. With some caveats, of course.

“Okay.”

“Please, Wans, just think ab- wait, okay?”

“Okay. These are clearly things that would make you happy. Things you really want. I want you to be happy detka, so... Okay.”

You cheered, but the witch cut in.

“But! I do have some conditions. I still have enemies out there who would hurt you to get to me, and I can’t risk anything happening to you. Will you hear my conditions?”

Of course you would. You didn’t think Wanda would even let you get this far. “Yes!”

She chuckled at your enthusiasm. “As far as school goes, I’d prefer for you to do online classes at home.”

Your head tilted. “Online? But we don’t have any internet?”

Wanda sighed. She owed you the truth, and it was time she shared at least some of it with you.

“I may have told you a half truth when I brought you to our home, dorogoya. I’m not proud of it, but I didn’t want you to know how much time was passing, so I blocked off all network connectivity to our home while you were adjusting. I was afraid you would be too focused on needing to go home instead of getting to know me, but… if wanting to learn is something you are passionate about, I can arrange for you to have access to online courses.”

Green eyes peered at you through long lashes, waiting for you to lash out at her for her deception. It never came. You understood, even if you didn’t agree with it. After the incident with her cellphone’s notification several months ago, you had suspected as much and now she had just confirmed it. In the end it had been to your benefit though, so could you really be mad if the ends justifies the means? You chose to ignore the way she glossed over the fact that she effectively kidnapped you and held you hostage, finding her preference of the word “adjusting” almost amusing. Stockholm syndrome was a real thing, but you didn’t believe what you had with Wanda could be attributed to that. Well. Not now at any rate.

“Okay, I agree to that. Can I pick the classes I want to take?”

Blinking, confused, Wanda asked “Why would you ask me that? They’re your classes.”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Wanda once again internally raged against your deceased parents, wishing she could kill them yet again. “You can pick whatever classes you want, detka. They’re yours to take.”

A small, happy smile graced your lips.

“Regarding your job.”

The smile dropped. You waited for the caveat.

“No more than 10 hours a week, and they can’t interfere with your classes. If your grades start dropping, you have to drop the job, understood?”

Eagerly, you nodded. Those seemed like perfectly reasonable boundaries, ones you would probably even set for yourself. What you didn’t know was that whatever job you got, Wanda was going to make sure your manager adhered to that allotted ten hours, no more, they would only ever be a set schedule for when you weren’t having classes, and Wanda wasn’t putting up with any of that minimum wage bullshit. If she had to pay you out of her own pocket, you need never know. No one was taking advantage of you if she could help it, and fortunately for you, she had all the power to ensure it.

“As for the friends, I… suppose… we could look into that. I’m not a very sociable creature, Y/N, you know this. But for you, I will try. Just don’t expect a lot too soon, okay? Let’s get everything else going, see where we stand then and go from there, okay?”

Elation filled you. If asked, you would have said you could have walked on air. Wanda was trying so hard for you. She really was perfect. Obviously she had flaws, like everyone, but where it counted, she was perfect.

“I love you.”

Silence.

You both stared at each other. Those words were not meant to be uttered aloud by you just now. Inside thoughts, and all that. But seeing Wanda try so hard for you, more than the restaurant, more than the outings she arranged for you, it was these compromises she had just agreed to which sealed her into your heart. Such concessions must have been weighing heavily on her, and once upon a time the woman could have either blown up or shut you down, but instead here she was trying to make compromises. With fairly reasonable ones at that, all because she knew it would make you happy.

You loved Wanda. You knew that to your core, and to be honest, you had known for a while. It was clear Wanda had loved you as well, she had certainly made no secret about it. From the way she spoke to you, cared for you, helped you. You felt it in the way she crafted experiences with your enjoyment in mind, in the way she touched you.

This wasn’t how you had planned on telling her. You’d wanted to save up some money first and take her out on a nice date in return, make some grand gesture, as opposed to ungracefully blurting it out after a super serious discussion. Nevertheless, the words were out there, and you didn’t want to take them back.

“I love you, Wanda. With all my heart.” Gently, you took her hand in yours on the table, holding it as you gazed into her eyes letting her see the truth of your words for herself.

Words Wanda had longed to hear from the moment she’d laid eyes on you in this universe didn’t hit her like a train she often daydreamed. They rolled over her like the relieving mist of summer’s rain against her skin on a hot day. The air, once heavy and oppressive, was replaced by a crisp invigorating coolness, leaving a trail of relief in its wake, washing away the tension. Scars long burnt into her heart were soothed and eased by your words.

Lashes fluttered closed as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. Alarmed, you leapt from your chair to kneel in front of the older woman, using your thumb to wipe away the tear. Of all the reactions you expected to your words, this was not one of them. Before your anxiety could run away with you though, Wanda’s hand shot up to clutch yours, pressing both yours and hers more firmly onto her face before she opened her eyes to gaze at you lovingly.

“Happy tears, lyubov,” she whispered.

“Oh.”

Slowly, as if afraid you might startle like a baby deer, the witch leaned into your personal space until her lips were but a breath from your own. She glanced from your eyes to your lips, and back. “I love you too, Y/N”

It was the softest kiss you had ever received. There was no heat, just a simple pressing of lips against each other, knowing the truth had finally been admitted to both of you.

A quiet clearing of the throat came from the side. You both parted to see Matteo had returned to take your order. To your surprise, you weren’t the only one who blushed this time. With a grin, you took your seat, letting Wanda order for you as usual.

The rest of your dining experience was a blur, which would be disappointing for such a treat, but given how Wanda enjoyed spoiling you, it stood to reason you would be returning to this restaurant soon. Dinner was filled with heated glances and teasing touches. The air was thick with anticipation. Normally you would probably be miffed about your meal containing such tiny portions but at this point you weren’t sure how much you could eat. In truth, you wished Wanda would just get the check so you could leave. That would be incredibly rude to the chef though, and he seemed really nice.

After what seemed like an age, dinner was finished. The chef came out once again to chat, which fortunately was brief, and thanked Wanda for her patronage. When she stood up to leave, you realized she had pre-paid in advance. Likely very handsomely, which made the entire evening make more sense. You were relieved as that meant you could go now, no need to wait.

Wanda casually tossed a roll of bills on the table for gratuity and once again led you out of the restaurant though you noticed her hand had drifted far lower, resting possessively on your ass. A shiver rolled down your spine as you considered what awaited you when you got home.

A/N: Fashion: I hate it. Google. Had to do much googling of formal fucking attire (straight cheated and looked up Elizabeth Olsen outfits for Wanda). And thEN!! I had to try to figure out how to describe it! Honestly, I really just wanted to go by brands because that made more sense to me than “it’s a chino”. Okay?? That looks like a colored jean?? Tf is a chino? I have no idea wtf I’m doing. If it doesn’t come on a mannequin, idk how to put it together. I literally have to take pictures in the store so once I get it home, going forward I can wear it again. Don’t ask me the amount of money I have wasted on outfits I thought I would remember to put together later that I absolutely did not, and then never wore again (looking at you red and gold plaid slacks - what am I supposed to do with you??? Why???). For the love of god, someone please style me for the rest of my life. I’ll give you my credit card. Jk, I have no money :’( I’ll write you shitty fanfiction??? I realized too late that Wanda’s hair is red for this. Can red hair and red clothes go together? I’m sure, yes? I spent too much time googling that and then… Questioned my life choices.

A/N 2: Some of this is based on my own life experience (some exaggerated for story purposes or changed to protect them and or myself) with family but before anybody flames my mother, please note that she has gone to therapy, and has (as I have gotten into my mid 30s) made changes, apologies, and supported me in my own growth and journey. I want to be clear; I do not wish my mother was dead, but creative writing can be it’s own form of therapy, and I’m writing this from my perspective from when I was in my early 20’s.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @sadslasher13 Also @xxxtwilightaxelxxx your reblogs with the additional tags are giving me life lol bless.

[localratman]

skybound Thoughts

sooo uh, im thinking about doing a rewrite of ninjago skybound.

im currently rewatching it because of this, and in case i never get around to actually writing anything, im gonna word-vomit onto this hellsite (affectionate) cuz im having Thoughts.

quick tangent though, skybound seems very similar to danny phantom (at least in how the fandom treats it) in the sense that, when you actually watch it, it's pretty tame and honestly kinda shit. but then you dig deeper. and you see the Implications and Possibilities, and suddenly it has you by the throat with all the ways this could have gone if it wasn't a kids show.

like, in skybound you get genuine torture and creepy implications on nadakhan's part (seriously, get away from jay and nya you fucking creep), and while it's never really explored since, y'know, kids show, it makes nadakhan one of the best and most terrifying villains i personally have watched in ninjago.

anyway, here are a couple of things i've been toying with in terms of a possible rewrite:

one thing im thinking about taking from various other fics i've seen (i think its mainly shown in bending but never breaking, which is an absolutely amazing fic and you should go read it but MIND THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS PLEASE) is jay learning to use the electricity in his body, though obviously not painlessly

bonus points for his elemental power getting royally fucked up once/if the vengestone is removed, but in the sense of suddenly he is completely overwhelmed and his power is so much stronger and its a danger to both himself and others

queerplatonic jaya: i think in this season especially, nya felt very aroace coded (i might just be projecting as i myself am aroace, but that's the vibe i got) and so for a skybound rewrite nya and jay would have a serious conversation about how nya doesn't feel that way for anyone, even if she *does* really like jay

just general angst and torture

id rewrite jays obsession with nya, specifically his first wish (if i dont just jump right into him being on misfortunes keep)

i think id like to do something more with delara than just her being some dead girlfriend. i.e.: i'd make her fucking unhinged and the kind of person that would fall in love with and support nadakhan.

i really liked @cotidianoseeder's idea for canary!jay, so possibly something in that direction

i also really like it when people keep serpentine aspects in jays character, so some of that as well

fuck it, make him inhuman, y'know?

i'd age everyone up i think (i dunno how old they are in skybound, but a 17 minimum would be in my rewrite)

OH! i'd put bruiseshipping as a romantic relationship cuz i love them

nya would make the final wish, since a big part of her character would be forging her own story and taking control of her own life

zanes falcon would survive cuz i love that fucking bird

echo would be taken off the island post-rewind

what do y'all think??? i keep having more ideas, i might post them

[yccoffeesimp]

𝑊𝒉𝑦 𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑂𝑘𝑖𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑒? | ??? 𝑋 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Prolouge:

Warnings: Disturbing Contents Blood/Gore/Obsessiveness/Manipulation/Mentions of suicide/Knives/Violence/mentions of mental illnesses (like depression)/Dan Heng & Blade being in the same atmosphere/Character Deaths/Gaslighting

Please if you are triggered by any of this. Consider not reading.

"Y/n! Wait up!" You heard a familiar voice from behind you. Turning your head, you saw your childhood, and only best friend, Gepard running towards you. For the past year , he's been sleeping in and making you wait for him every morning. At first you didn't have a problem with it until he started sleeping in way too much which nearly caused you to arrive to school late. You weren't dealing with angry teachers for your tardiness so you left without waiting for him.

The blondie finally caught up with you when you finally stopped at the cross walk. "You-You really gotten faster." He breathlessly said as you placed your hands on your hip.

→ "Maybe don't sleep in next time."

You say. The blonde stood up straight, nervously scratching the back of his head. "Apologies Y/n," he said,"I'll try not to keep you waiting."

→ "It's fine. I guess."

You said. Gepard smiled shortly at you before he looked to come to a sudden realization. "Oh Y/n! I almost forgot. Have you decided what club you want to be in for this year?" He asked.

You froze. It dawned on you that you promised Gepard to join a club this year, and you entirely forgot."Y/n? Don't tell me you're planning not to join one."

→ "Uhhhh- I was totally planning to join one. Just not now?"

You explained. You heard the blonde sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Y/n, you promised to join one this year. How can you get any friends when you constantly are playing on your phone ,and refusing to socialize?" He said, you rolled your eyes.

→ "Says you." You say. Gepard looked shocked and yet slightly red. "Well- I'm trying too and plus I've been able to make more friends ." He said.

→ "Uh huh, yeah sure. Say that when you have other people to sit with at lunch."

Gepard sighed. "Look, will you at least actually try to? Your happiness matters to me Y/n. I don't want to see you alone, and plus I want you to have others around you when I can't be." He said, causing you to sigh.

→ "Fine, I'll actually try. But I can't promise that I'll join one."

Gepard smiled. "I'm glad you're at least trying."

You felt a smile on your face. Seeing Gepard happy, made you feel happy too. He's been stressed with school and home so to put a smile on his face and his mind at ease was something you were proud and happy about.The nice moment was ruined of course when in the distance you both heard the school bell ring. Both of your eyes widened before immediately dashing towards the gate. Out of breath as you both managed to get to school before the gate closed. "I guess see you at lunch?" Gepard asked, wiping off a bit of sweat from his forehead. You nodded.You both waved bye before heading your separate ways.

-X -

The end of class bell rang as the day flew by. You were sitting at the back of the class of Bio when it rang. 'I should probably start looking at clubs now. *Ugh*I might as well start with the gaming club.' You were spacing out when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Instinctively you immediately went to hit whatever it was until you saw a familiar blonde with blue eyes male.

→ "Hey Gepard."

You said, relaxing a bit. "Hey Y/n, sorry to disturb you but I was gonna meet you outside but I saw you in here doing nothing alone." You looked around, seeing that you were the only one there, heck even the teacher was gone.

→" Oh-"

"So have you taken into consideration what club you wanted to join?" Gepard asked, helping you get your stuff.

→ "Not yet."

You lied, you were thinking about joining the gaming club. It was fun and would be less boring plus you don't think anyone would bother you anyways. It would more than likely be filled with introverts and nothing more but gaming challenges etc. "Then how about you join my club?" He smiled.

→ " Your club? What is your club even about?"

"Well it's the literature club-"

→"No."

You said with no hesitation. "Come on, it isn't that bad plus..." Gepard seemed nervous.

→ "Plus what?"

"I kind of promised everyone that I'd bring a new member.." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. Right then and there you wanted to facepalm yourself.

→ " That's a personal problem."

Gepard rolled his eyes.

"Come on, please Y/n. You don't have to join- Just at least give it a chance." He said, looking at you desperately. "Dan Heng already made tea and a tray of desserts for this." He continued.You looked at him at the mention of food and tea.

→ "Fine, I'll go see your club."

Gepard's face lit up. "Wait- Really?" He asked. You nodded. He smiled brightly the entire way you both went up to the fourth floor of the school.It was primarily used for storage and club activities, plus the teacher's lounge was located here too. You both walked until you reached the end of the hallway to which Gepard stopped at the room to the left. He looked back at you, probably checking to see if you were ready, before opening the doors.

The classroom had three bookshelves filled with many genres and a back closet. It seems to have 20 desks, a teacher's podium in the front with a whiteboard on the wall with a reminder. 'Festival is happening soon!' You were too busy looking around the room to pay any attention to the three insanely attractive men in front of you before Gepard spoke.

"Hey guys, I brought the new member!" He announced. Your head snapped at him.

→ "Don't call me the new member."

You muttered.

"Welcome to the club." You heard a voice say, you turned to see a black haired male with cameo blue eyes and two translucent turquoise horns. "Mhm..." Another black haired male hummed, the ends of his hair faded to a tint of red and his eyes were an orange red.

"Everyone, I want you to meet my friend, Y/n." Gepard said. "It's lovely to see you again." A familiar voice said. Immediately you turned to see the one and only perfect student, Jing Yuan warmly smiling at you. "Y/n meet Dan Heng, Blade, and I assume you already know Jing Yuan?" Gepard said, introducing everyone. Jing Yuan nodded."We are fairly acquainted already." He chuckled.

→ " We both had Mr. Svarog for homeroom last year right?"

You asked. "Indeed. I'm glad to see you taking interest in the Literature club.""I am as well, I'm Dan Heng by the way." Dan Heng said. The one you assumed to be Blade didn't say anything but simply stared at you. Then there was a high pitch whistle as Dan Heng immediately went to go get the tea.

"Please take a seat at the table Y/n." Gepard smiled. At the near back there was a table with four chairs. Blade then moved an extra chair before Gepard could and motioned for you to sit.You sat down beside Gepard as Dan Heng set tea cups in front of you all, pouring the perfect amount of tea with Blade setting down a tray of sweets and pastries.

-x-

"So tell me Y/n, what made you want to join our club?" Blade asked, obviously glaring at you. You glanced at Gepard, you already knew that if you told the truth he'd be in trouble so you came up with the only excuse you had.

-> "Well I was looking for something to occupy my mind for a while and Gepard seemed to enjoy this club so I wanted to give it a shot."

You lied, putting on the fakest smile you could. "Well I'm glad you decided to join us." Jing Yuan smiles at you again. You felt your face slightly heat up. Having one of the most attractive and popular boys smile at you so warmly and genuinely made you feel some time of way.

"It's nice to see you join, we've been trying to get others to join as well but they won't give it a chance." Jing Yuan said as Blade nodded. "I made this club with the intention of having others show and have their love for literature grow, to be able to express ourselves if that's easier to put it."

"Our goal is to make the Literature club popular before we graduate next year. "Mhm." Dan Heng hummed, taking a sip of the tea. Gepard nodded alongside Blade.Dang these guys seem to be serious about this club. "So what books do you read anyways?" Blade asked, still glaring at you.

→"Well I don't read a lot but the few I have were fantasy or adventure fiction, but a lot was fanfiction."

Dan Heng's head perked a bit at the topic but he didn't say anything.

→ "What about you Blade?"

Blade kept quiet before Jing Yuan spoke."He reads horror novels and books a lot. Some vampire ones too from the books I've seen him read once or twice." Immediately Blade glared at Jing Yuan, obviously not liking how he spoke for him. It was obvious from the moment you met Blade, he was a loner and probably someone who causes fights easily, yet to see someone with that kind of attitude about them read was kind of cute in a way.

"Oh- Dan Heng, I forgot to mention earlier but at the last meeting you seemed to forget your notebook." Jing Yuan spoke, before sliding a notebook with maple leaves on it to Dan Heng.

"Thank you Jing Yuan.." he said. "Isn't that the notebook you were writing that novel of yours in?" Gepard asked, Dan Heng nodded. "It's still a working progress.."He explained. "Really? I thought by now after 6 months it would be at least done by now." Gepard said.

→ "You write your own novels?" You ask Dan Heng. He nodded.

→ "That's quite impressive, not gonna lie." Dan Heng slightly smiles. "Perhaps one day you can share it with the rest of us." Gepard said. "Speaking of writings, Blade, don't you write as well?" Jing Yuan asks him.

"No-" Blade was cut off by Gepard.

" But I saw you writing-"

"Shut up." Blade snapped at him. "Seems that we have to give you some confidence. Say this gives me an idea." Jing Yuan said.The three of you looked at him expectively. "Tonight we go home and write a short story and at the next meeting, we read them aloud. Plus since we have a new member now, it would give us a chance to learn more about each other." Jing Yuan said.

→ "Actually about that- I never said I was joining. I might've come to see it but I still have other clubs to- Uhh."

You froze, seeing the four boys slightly sad and rather disappointed faces. "I see, apologies for assuming you were joining." Dan Heng said. Blade was still glaring at you but more intensely. "Well- This is rather unfortunate but I do hope we can one day welcome you as a new member some day." Jing Yuan said, the disappointment in his voice was clear. "Y/n.." Gepard looked at you with a solemn expression, he was obviously hoping you'd actually join.

You felt a sting of guilt and shame as you sighed. Today is the day you sell your soul just to see some hot dudes who read and tea.

→ "I've decided... I'm joining."

Their faces immediately lit up as Gepard pulled you into a tight hug. "Thank you y/n." He whispered before pulling away. "Well then welcome to the Literature club, Y/n l/n. Alright everyone, I think today's meeting can end on a good note."

After that you walked home...Unaware of the new surprises you'll now face...⁠♡

[thetrashbinseries]

— Fahrenheit ( bangchan x reader )

rated - mature | minors dni

parts - one, two (explicit)

warnings - idol universe, name changed idols, mature themes, drug use, alcohol use, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, slight angst

x x x

“It’s not rocket science, Chris."

My annoyance hits the roof. What the hell is his problem? Why's he turning this into a damn soap opera?

"You're back in LA. New York—yes or no?"

Chris tiptoes the line ever since last year's scandal close shave. I get playing it safe, but I'm alone in a six-bedroom Jersey fortress. In the U.S. media game, I'm golden. No cancel threats, not yet in my rising career.

But the spotlight got hotter after the last single went viral. Chris, in the crosshairs of relentless management, dances a careful routine.

He's the big shot, leader of the world's hottest K-pop group. His company would shoot themselves in the foot by axing him. Yet, Mr. Libra doesn't dig rocking the boat.

"-I want to, babe, but it's too risky right now."

I sigh. Twisting my computer chair, neon lights bathe me in purples and reds. I'm in the studio, bullshitting on songs for the third album.

I've had it. "Catch you later, Chris." The call drops, facedown on the desk, anger swirling.

"Seriously, fuck you." I spit out, taking it personally.

Being a foreigner feels like the snag. His industry would call me a disgrace tagging along.

I don't need that energy.

Am I settling as his 'little secret'? I'm 29, he's 27 – grown folks. Pings remind me of him, but I silence the noise. Facetime interrupts, Jake, the friend with benefits. Games or busy, no time for emotional plays.

Warner signed my band, deep in commitments, mind racing. A shrink's gift? Adderall for my ADHD.

Now, even less time for the BS.

"Hey, daddy." I purr, thickening my accent.

Jake’s smile fades as he eyes me. "What?" I giggle,

"Stop playing with me like that, y/n."

"How am I playing with you?"

"You're gonna end up with your legs cocked back like last time, girl, cool it."

Laughter ensues. I glimpse his background – a parking garage stairwell. We catch up every couple of weeks via Facetime.

"Where are you at?" I squint.

"Recognize it?" Jake turns his phone, revealing the New York City skyline.

"You're out here? Aw, shit." I lean back in my chair, a half-cocked grin, tongue behind my lower lip.

"Aw, shit is right! What's up? What are you up to tonight?"

I chuckle, rolling my eyes. "Nah, uh, Jake. We gotta play nice. I got a good thing going on right now."

He sighs, exasperation audible. "You two still a thing? Thought you were photographed over there, outside the JYPE building?"

"I was."

"They ain't letting that fly, you serious, y/n?"

"I mean, they're being hard on him, but we're still trying to make it work." I express more hope than Chris does. Jake’s viewpoint is valid – he's been through the K-pop circuit, burned out, went solo, and found massive international success.

Which is why he bitches about it.

It's unfair.

"I do wanna see you, though," I admit, the need for an adventure kicking in.

"That's my girl. Hey, I'm about to hop in the car. Should be able to make it over in twenty. You at your spot in Jersey?"

"Yes, I am, Jake, but don't come in on no bullshit."

"I'm always on bullshit. See you in twenty."

Jake hangs up before I can fight back.

Why is my grin so wide? I roll my eyes at my own excitement, surprised at how genuinely thrilled I am to be around someone who wants to be with me. Scanning Chris's messages puts me in a better mood.

babydaddy: there’s no way you just hung up like that -_-

babydaddy: this is my life…my career…

babydaddy: why can't you be more patient?? this is hard for me too…

babydaddy: we need to talk tomorrow…

babydaddy: about us, and where this is going.

The last message triggers something in me. My stomach twists like it always does before bad news. It doesn't change, whether in poverty in my hometown or a small Jersey mansion. The same sunken gut reaction. We've been going back and forth, but this sounds... final. At some point, he'll grow sick of it. I know I have.

Yet, there's so much I love about Chris. Selfishly, I don't want him with anyone else. He's the man of my dreams, flawed as he is, he’s human. My human. I panic, feeling like my boat has sprung a leak, desperate to plug it somehow.

Knowing myself, I turn my phone upside down, placing it on my desk and stand up, distancing myself from the setting. Something else would trap me; all I want is not to reply to him with charged emotion. It wouldn't help anything.

Jake’s on his way over.

I take a deep breath, letting my anxiety settle. I'll talk to him; he always has good insight and wisdom beyond his years. I look at myself in the mirror. I'm in comfy mode, barefoot, walking across hardwood floors.

Entering the dimly lit kitchen, I brew hot chocolate, curling my toes against the balls of my feet, cracking knuckles as I chew my lower lip, mind drifting to Chris. Resistance is weaker now; the reasons to text back sound more convincing. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, grab my cup, and sip as I walk past my bearded dragon's tank. It's late; he's asleep, tucked into his pink bed. I stare at each plant, trying to keep my thoughts in check.

My outdoor motion detection buzzes the smartwatch on my wrist, signaling someone's arrival. I glimpse headlights through my foyer. My grin widens; I bite my lip, urging myself to behave.

"Alexa, shuffle my evening playlist on Spotify, downstairs."

The nearest speaker obeys, filling the space with music. My dog scurries around my feet as the doorbell rings, and my bigger dog's deep barks echo throughout the house.

“Hey, cool it!" I shout at them, stepping over the little one weaving through my legs, nipping my ankles for some ungodly reason. I open the door, visibly exasperated, while my larger dog bellows from the top of the stairs.

Jake points to her behind me, furrowing his brows dramatically. "I thought we were friends!"

My dog hurls another final, loud bark before slowly making her way down the stairs. I let Jake in, lock the door, and he takes off his shoes, grabbing a disposable guest pair from the basket by the front door. I turn, starting down the hall, and Jake’s full body weight slams into me from behind, arms wrapping around my body, causing me to stumble. Seemingly unpredictably, he stops us from falling while laughing. I catch my footing, give him a firm shove, swipe stray hair behind my ear, and correct the other side, giving him a side-eye.

"Now, you know damn well I'm too clumsy for some stupid shit like that," I scoff, turning into the living room. I walk over to the glass coffee table near the sofa, grab the nearby gold electric candle lighter, tip it into the wide, three-wick candle, and light each of their blackened tips. The scents of apple-cinnamon, cedar, sandalwood, and vanilla fill the room, complemented by the warm orange glow of well-placed LED lights. I sit on the edge of the sofa, and Jake takes his favorite spot on the oversized black beanbag chair nearby. He pulls his hood off, followed by his knitted beanie, ruffling his dark brown hair.

I've got to say, Jake is a handsome guy, no doubt about it.

But I've got problems, and I've caught heavy feelings for one of my biggest headaches lately—Christopher Bang.

We're in this so deep, at least on my end.

I start to think a little harder, trying to see beyond the rose colored glasses for a moment. His text plays through my head as I scroll on my phone, my excuse being searching for another song to skip to on Spotify. But, of course, I get back to the messages Chris sent earlier.

"About us, and where this is going…"

We'd never had an official conversation about being exclusive. We met by chance, fell for each other, and started sneaking around together. I consider Chris my boyfriend, and I’m saved in his phone under ‘baby.' That's got to mean something, right?

The horror begins to set in—has this been a situationship this whole time? Is that why he never went public?

Anxiety creeps in.

"Yo," Jake snaps his fingers, waving his fingers. Damn, I must've been really distracted, crinkled brows as I stare into my phone, thumb tapping against the glass but not doing anything. I look up at him, raising my brows as if I had just briefly missed something he recently said.

"Hm?" I ask.

He's sitting up more, his left hand stroking one of my cats. "Talk to me, girl," he gestures to the marble ashtray with half of a joint, "And pass it."

I lean forward, grabbing the pink joint and placing it between my lips. I use the lighter nearby, sparking it, blowing a few times, the smoke thick and pungent, rising into the air. I tap it into the ashtray and lean over, passing it his way. Jake takes it graciously, placing it between the center of his pink lips and taking a big inhale. He holds it in, nodding, looking down at it as he blows the smoke out the side of his mouth.

"Chris and I got into it again. He told me they were coming to LA for a show over at KCON, and he was like 'maybe I can fly over to see you,' trying to fit it in, delaying his trip to Korea by like three days, which didn’t seem like a big deal. But then after everything ended, he was just hyper-aware of the attention on them and changed his mind," I begin to explain. Jake has taken a few hits during my story; he's leaning forward, passing me the joint again. I take it, hitting it.

"Did he say why?" he asks. Jake’s voice is low, even-toned. He’s invested in my story and the way I’m feeling, I can tell by the way his laser focus is on me as I speak. His eye contact is intense, fiery, the Aries in him.

"No, he didn’t, and that’s what frustrated me, so we got on a call tonight. He like—called me and was dancing around it, and I was like 'look, it’s not hard, are you coming to New York or not.' I was just... over it," I reply, pausing to take another hit before passing it to Jake once more. "He was all 'I want to, baby, but it's too risky.'” I mock his Aussie accent, and Jake can’t help the cough of smoke that comes out from trying to repress a laugh. He turns his head, full-on coughing a couple of times before he catches his breath again.

"Do you need water?" I ask, successfully holding back my own laugh. I don’t wait for his reply, instead, standing up and taking a few steps over to the mini-fridge and grabbing a bottle of spring water, handing it to him.

Plopping back down on the couch, I sigh. "So I didn’t even let him get the rest of it out. I was like 'ok, I’ll talk to you later' and like, hung up."

Jake places the burnt-out joint tip into the tray, effectively ending our puff-puff-pass session, making us both more relaxed and a little spacey. "Oof, y/n, this is... such a unique situation that very few people go through, and even fewer non-K-idols. I mean, I don’t agree with any of it, right? But it’s not me, and Chan, he’s in like–the peak of their career as a boy group, dude." Jake shakes his head, sitting back, my cat jumping from his lap, considering him having moved too much for his comfort.

"I don’t—care," I blurt.

Jake’s head drops back with a sigh before he picks it up again. "That’s probably part of the problem. Chan’s risking his career; Korea is no joke when it comes to this shit. I promise you, unless you’re physically in the industry as an idol over there, you have no idea. It’s so obsessive, and these companies, the management, they will not let you breathe, and the bigger you are—the tighter they hold onto you because there’s so much more to lose at that point."

He only leaves a half second of pause before he says, "I don’t think you’re compatible with—nor do you deserve, that kind of relationship with anyone."

Ouch.

It hurts that much more because—he’s right

"Now that doesn’t make Chan a bad person, or you a weak person. He’s got a right to this life he’s worked super hard to get to, and you’ve got a right to someone to love you the way you want to be loved, especially while you’re in the beginning stage of becoming great yourself. It’s a huge distraction—maybe not a relationship, but like, that kind of relationship."

I can do nothing but sigh, throwing my hands up and sitting back onto the couch, feeling, well, defeated. Can you blame me? It fucking sucks, the reality of it all that I was trying to avoid.

"Fuck," I finally say aloud.

Jake’s looking at me; I know he feels bad for breaking it down so plain, but he does it because he cares about me and wants the best for me, and I know that. “You still do what you want; it’s your life. Whatever you two decide is what you two decide, but that’s just—my limited experience.”

I scoff with a roll of my eyes, “Limited experience. Yeah ok.”

He laughs.

We both understand the subtext of the brief exchange.

“He says we need to talk tomorrow, about us and ‘where this is going’,” I say with air quotes.

“I mean, hey, it’s an opportunity to get your concerns out there, listen to his, and decide what’s best for you. He’ll decide what’s best for him. If that’s being together, great, if not, great. Either way, you’ll be ok. That’s how I like to see these kinds of things.” Jake says, his words profound and his perspective valuable to me. He leans forward, “We’ve known each other like what? Almost a year now?” I nod to confirm, and he continues, “In that short period of time, I can just—tell that you’re a strong person; you wouldn’t have gotten this far if you weren’t. If you ever need someone to talk to, my line is always open.”

I let another long breath go before laying across the sofa on my stomach, bringing myself closer to Jake as I lazily hug a pillow, resting my chin atop it. His advice is logged in my thoughts. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore—the way he phrased it did something to lower my anxiety so I was going to let sleeping dogs lie. “What about you, huh? What’s got you on the East Coast? You’re never over here, rarely in America anymore for real.”

“Yeah, I’ve been—busy, but it’s a blessing, you know? I’m so grateful that so many people support me, as a solo artist, doing my own thing, my way.” Jake never fails to acknowledge those around him that have supported him, and keeps himself grounded and humble somehow through being an international celebrity. “But I was at the Versace show over in Soho. I’ve got a couple of other shows to see for New York Fashion Week, but I touched down and had to come see you.”

I lift a brow. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Jake.”

Without hesitation, he fires back, “I’m not asking you to, y/n.”

It’s enough to drag a snort from me.

He laughs, “The hotels get lonely, and most places I go, I don’t know anyone. I like it here; you’ve done a lot since the last time I was here.” Jake looks around at the decor. He points to a painting of a cat skeleton on a black canvas. “That’s new, I like it.” He says.

“Yeah? I do too; it’s simple but it matches the vibe of the space, I found it by accident one day.”

When Jake says the hotels are lonely, I believe him. He often confides in me about how lonely his lifestyle can be and how it can drive him so crazy that he’ll call everyone through his phone until someone answers, and when that person hangs up, he’ll keep going. More often than not, he doesn’t have anyone to call, despite my insisting that I was an option. Some nights, when it gets really bad, he’ll have a tendency towards drinking, which is something I don’t like, and we’ve talked about ad nauseam. Of course, he’s always welcome in my safe spaces.

“So what’s new with the band? When you texted me the other day, you had like, tons of shit going on that you were freaking out about.” Jake cracks open the bottle of water, taking a gulp.

“I’m flying out to LA next week for a couple of events, but we’re like focused on album three right now; I’ve been locked in the studio just writing.”

“Ok, ok, you got anything for me to hear yet?” He seems to perk up to ask this question.

“Eh, nothing I’m ready to show or anything, just fragments of songs right now. The label is really pushing the work we did with album two to build the hype up for album three, and that’s the one they funded.” I kick my feet slowly in the air behind me as I talk.

“We should do a song together.” Jake says, quite suddenly. He can tell I’m taken aback. I mean, creatively, Jake and I get along great, but we had never discussed merging on a record before. “An official song, I think it could sound incredible.”

I immediately want to agree, of course, but I have a couple of hurdles I know I need to jump now that I’ve gotten to this point in my career. I hated that. I used to be able to agree to a collaboration immediately. But Jake had even more hoops to jump through; he couldn’t commit to something official now either.

So why was he proposing it?

“I gotta ask the label—”

“Fuck the label, dude.” Jake waves his hand, “They don’t have to know anything, not yet. We’ll just work together and see what happens. Whaddya say?”

It takes no thought for me to reply,

“Let’s do it.”

—

Jake wore me down enough to bring him down into the studio, insisting he didn't have anything important to do until tomorrow evening. I don't want to encourage his drinking, but when he spots the whiskey decanter, he gestures to it as I sit down in the main chair in front of the soundboard.

"What’s in there? Hennessy?" He answers his own question as I spin around in the chair to see what he’s talking about. He’s already over at the mini bar, opening it up and whiffing.

"Yeah, but I rarely drink it. I got it for guests." I turn towards my soundboard again, powering it up and waiting for the two large screens to load. I add another thought to the end of my sentence, albeit, to myself. Not like I have guests anyway.

Jake comes over with a glass, the brown liquor sloshing around as he tilts it in my direction. I roll my eyes, taking it, and he’s already got his glass, which he holds out for a toast.

"To the music," Jake says.

"The music." I oblige, clinking his glass and taking my gulp down a lot less gracefully than he does his, before he pours up another for himself. "Don’t overdo it; you’re gonna have a nasty hangover, and I won’t be the one to blame for it." I press a few buttons, and the house lights lower, back to the blue and purple hue I was sitting in earlier.

"I am a grown man that knows my limits." Jake states, matter-of-factly. He sits in the rolling chair at the table alongside me, pulling himself up to the soundboard and sitting back in his chair, sipping his drink as his eyes dance across the screens while I click around, pulling up my digital audio workstation of choice.

I point to the keyboard nearest to him, "Press a key for me?" He does, confirming it's connected and functional, the note ringing out through the monitors.

"Aw yeah." Jake sits up, setting his glass down on the designated cupholder space on the edge of the mixing table as he places both hands on the keys, beginning to fiddle with the limited random keys and chords he had learned how to play while being forced to learn as a trainee. "Damn, it’s been so long." He says, a half smile on his face. I can tell he’s reminiscing, I just can’t tell if it’s good or bad. "You’re so lucky to have control over your music, you know that?" He says, looking over at me before focusing back on the instrument again, slender fingers of his right hand climbing up the keys.

"I don’t really have total control, not anymore. Not sure I ever did." I say with a sigh. "It’s always been like—an Eli and me thing, not just a ‘me’ thing. I just get a little more attention because I’m the one out front, singing." I continue to explain. Jake’s stopped playing, instead choosing to lean in his chair and eye me over the top of his glass as he sips, listening to me with an empathetic nod. "Now with a major label involved, there are so many other factors now."

"You get the final say though, right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I do." I say with uncertainty, not because it isn’t true, but because it still feels like the decisions I make have to be based on what everyone else thinks is best for us. If I vehemently object, I’m persuaded down to the decisions of others. Sometimes, it feels like I’m being gaslit. But I don’t have much time to ruminate on that, since everything is moving forward at top speed.

"Guess it’s complicated?" Jake concedes.

I nod.

"Girl, you got it," Jake croons in his gruff voice, eyes closed, fingers snapping to start a rhythm. "And I know it, baby, why don’t you?”

I nod, sliding him away from the keys as I hit some chords to match his singing. Unsure if it's a freestyle or something pre-written, I catch the composition unfolding. Music flows through me effortlessly—my natural talent that's brought me this far. It didn't happen overnight, but creating is the part of music that feels like pure joy, a distraction from all the BS.

Soon, we're vibing out a hook, laughing for hours, blending funk with '90s groove, a nostalgic fusion. My phone rings, freezing me in place. The weight of unresolved problems crashes over me. Jake senses it; I bolt before he protests. His eyes speak understanding; he knows when to let me deal with my demons. I answer the phone, attempting to steady my voice.

“Hello?”

“You answered.”

It’s Chris.

His voice is tired, ironic, as if he couldn’t believe it himself but didn’t care.

It irritates me. Why call back so soon if compromise isn't on the table?

“I just called to say, that I’ll be there in about four hours.”

A lump forms in my throat; I glance around for a clock. Holed up in the studio with Jake, time escaped me.

“But you said—“

‘First class, you are now welcome to pre-board flight 917 to Newark, First class, you are now welcome to pre-board flight 917 to Newark.’

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you in a few, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

The phone beeps, leaving me in stunned silence. The studio's muted song hums in the background. I'm not ready to face it yet, still figuring out what this sudden visit means.

“Said I wouldn’t do this.” I mutter, pressing my fists against my forehead, heaving a frustrated sigh. I vowed not to let another man stir my emotions, yet here I am—almost having a meltdown. But my feelings are valid. No explanation after a heated argument, and suddenly he's on his way here?

Maybe he got another perspective from the members or his friends. Maybe he thought about it. Either way, he'll be here in four hours. We can hash it out then.

I muster the calm to return to the studio. Jake sits back, his chair turning towards me. “Well?”

I plop onto the nearby sofa. “He’s boarding a flight here now, said he’ll be here in four hours.”

Jake’s brows lift in surprise. “See? I told you…this was going to push you two in some direction it needed to go. Four hours? My man, okay BangChan!” Jake laughs, toasting with his glass. “So I added some drums, check it out.” He plays the track; the groove multiplies.

“You added that part too?” I notice another musical flair, and he nods proudly. After a few seconds, he turns it off, a slow fade of the volume knob.

“I think that’s enough for me to work with for now, what do you think?”

"The skeleton is definitely there, but what about more instruments?" I question. Jake pushes his chair back, picks up his hoodie, slipping it on as he stands up.

“It’s enough to write to; we can come back to it; if Chan’s on his way here, the last thing he needs is to see another guy here late night.” He slips on his shades, his phone reflected in them as he orders an Uber Black. I didn't think he cared like this, feeling closer to him; he did what he felt was best. I was freaking out about how to get him out in time, and Jake took the initiative.

A relieved sigh escapes me. “I owe you.”

“Absolutely nothing. You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart. I had a good time here tonight.” He tucks his phone in his jacket pocket. “Twelve minutes.”

I nod. “Follow me upstairs, I made some cookies yesterday; you can take some with you.”

“Ooh what kind?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“A classic.”

[werewolf-cl4ws]

Sonsally Week 2024: Day 3 - Clothes

This one took a turn. It's an obvious theme with my AU but when it hits it's like "Oh I got angst in my fluff".

So I guess trigger warning for body image issues. Same deal as before taking place in my AU TimeSkip era.

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“When are you ever not thinkin’, Sal?” Sonic pointed out.

“I have to do a lot of compensating because of one of us not doing any,” Sally sighed, unable to resist rolling her eyes at the hedgehog.

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway I was thinking now that you’re joining us on missions again, you should probably get some more suitable clothes for them,” Sally stated.

Sonic tilted his head at Sally, then looked down at himself, eye brows furrowed with genuine confusion.

“What’s wrong wit’ wha’ I’m wearin’?” Sonic asked.

Right now he was wearing a loose t-shirt and tracksuit pants alongside his usual gloves and a pair of sneakers. The sneakers were already showing signs of wear and tear, as they were just a regular pair that wouldn’t be able to withstand Sonic’s speed like his old sneakers did. But that wasn’t Sally’s concern as Rotor was already working on something that would help there.

What was not sitting right with Sally was everything else.

“There’s nothing wrong with them while you’re here at home,” Sally began. “But they’re way too big, even for you. Your shirt has already gotten snagged on something today.

Sonic was still looking over himself while Sally spoke, and when she pointed out his shirt Sonic winced when he caught sight of an obvious tear that wasn’t there when they had left the village. He grabbed his shirt to get a better look at the tear, frowning slightly.

“I mean yeah, true. But I like ‘em loose,” Sonic said. “I gotta be able to move.”

“I know, but there’s a fine line between comfortable and putting yourself at risk,” Sally said, before she gestured to herself. “That’s why I wear my vest - it’s fitted enough so it won’t get caught on anything, but I can still move around easily.”

“Yeah, but,” Sonic began, his muzzle scrunched up with hesitation as he tried to pick his next words.

He had never really been the type to wear clothes, as like a lot of mobians he found it wasn’t needed. The most he would wear was maybe a jacket or a sweater in the colder months, but even then he hated it with a passion as those felt too restrictive even if the trade-off was being warm.

But now he felt like he had to be fully clothed, for reasons he didn’t really want to delve into. But the main requirement for his new wardrobe was that it had to be comfortable, which meant that what he was wearing was maybe a size or two bigger than what he needed in reality.

That in itself also touched onto reasons he didn’t want to delve into, and he had a feeling what Sally was hinting at was going to cut right into that.

“It’s fine. I can deal with a few tears,” Sonic concluded a little lamely, unable to think of a counter argument that would shut down this conversation, but hoping that would be enough to slow Sally’s roll.

He turned away from Sally to emphasis his desire to end the conversation there, though when he started to walk away Sonic felt something snag his t-shirt. Before he could stop himself he stumbled back, just barely able to rebalance himself as he almost tripped over his own feet.

When he managed to right himself Sonic glared down at his shirt, only to find Sally gripping it in her fist with a strength Sonic had no idea she possessed.

“Oh c’mon!” Sonic protested, only to get yanked again. This time he managed to keep his balance, and couldn’t help giving Sally a small smirk of satisfaction when she ended up nearly tripping over herself when the tugging backfired on her.

“I’m just trying to show you it’s not about a few tears here and there. It’s about your own safety,” Sally countered. “I don’t want you ending up getting hurt just when you getting back on track over something so silly.”

“I’ll just tuck it in or somethin’, it’s fine,” Sonic sighed.

“That’s not going to work and you know it,” Sally stated.

She finally released Sonic’s shirt, and after he straightened it out Sonic sat on his bed, giving Sally a deadpan stare.

“Look, it’s an easy fix,” Sally explained. “Just let me take some measurements--"

“Pass,” Sonic cut in.

“-- then let Bunnie take some measurements--"

“Hard pass,” Sonic gritted, resulting in Sally growling in frustration. “Can’t she just use wha’ever measurements she had when she made these for me?”

“There were no measurements. She had to guess by eyeballing you,” Sally sighed. “And even then she knew she got most of it wrong.”

“Nah, she did fine,” Sonic waved off, before he flopped back onto his bed. “Just tell her to do that again.”

He felt Sally climb onto his bed to scoot up next to him, so he tried to avoid looking at her by staring up at the ceiling. Sonic managed to last about a minute before his eyes flinted towards her, seeing her staring him down and waiting with an infinite amount of patience that wore him down.

“I don’t want to,” Sonic eventually admitted, huffing sharply.

“I know you don’t, but you only have to do it once and then it’s done,” Sally pointed out. “I can come with you if that helps.”

Sonic clicked his tongue in frustration.

“… yeah, that might help,” Sonic sighed. “‘nd then she’s gonna make some new threads for me?”

“Yes.”

“I still want ‘em kinda loose though.”

“She can make them reasonably loose, yes,” Sally smirked. “And you can keep these for home.”

“… fine. When can she does this?”

“Bunnie said she’s ready whenever you are, I’ve already talked to her about it,” Sally said. “Honestly, it was her idea to ask, she really wants to make some new clothes for you.”

“Why? They’re just clothes, ‘nd I like wha’ she made for me already,” Sonic asked, tilting his head a little at Sally.

“She said she felt like it wasn’t her best work. And you know Bunnie, she just wants to do something nice for you,” Sally shrugged. “She also said she had some ideas already, but she didn’t want to start making them until you gave the go ahead.”

“I swear she fusses just as much as she breathes,” Sonic laughed, then sat up. “Let’s do it now then.”

“Right now?” Sally echoed, clear surprise in her voice.

“Yep. Before I change my mind. If she ain’t ready now she’s gonna miss her chance.”

His bravado lasted long enough to get himself to Bunnie’s place, and to get the cyborg rabbit to start preparations to gather whatever measurements she needed.

However Sally watched it fade almost instantly the second Bunnie asked Sonic to remove his shirt so she could get a much more accurate measurement. Which was a sight to be seen in itself, as she was used to Sonic being brave even when facing down something that would shake any mortal soul to its very core.

It was also strange, almost concerning, that Sonic couldn’t even muster up the words to try to argue a compromise with Bunnie. Instead he seemed to shut down entirely, his tail lashing back and forth in agitation as he took on the role of a trapped animal.

“Sugah-hog? Y’doin’ okay there?” Bunnie chanced, also noticing the change in the hedgehog. “We c’n do this another time if y’all wanna.”

When Sonic didn’t answer, or really even acknowledged that Bunnie had said anything, Sally jumped up from her seat and approached him as she gave Bunnie an apologetic look.

“Sorry, one second,” Sally murmured while she slipped her hand into Sonic’s larger one and gently tugged him towards her. Surprisingly Sonic followed her, though he still looked like a deer caught in headlights when she took him to one side of Bunnie’s hut so they could talk.

“Hey, are you all right?” Sally whispered.

The question seemed to snap Sonic out of his trance, if just barely, and he blinked at Sally as he tried to process her question.

“Uh... yeah. Just... you know...” Sonic babbled, his eyes wide before he weakly stated. “I didn’t think this through.”

It was a consistent characteristic for Sonic to do that, which Sally would have gladly pointed out with dripping sarcasm given any other circumstance. But watching it actually shatter his confidence so quickly made Sally’s own mind scramble to try to help him push through it.

“It’s okay. She’ll be quick so you don’t have to have it off for too long,” Sally attempted. “It’s just so she can get more accurate measurements, that’s all.”

“Ah’m just gonna be lookin’ at th’ numbers, hon. Nothin’ else,” Bunnie offered, then clamped her mouth shut when Sally shot her a glare while frantically made a cutting motion at her throat with her hand.

Her words though were like setting off fire crackers at Sonic’s feet, and it turned him into a bucking bull that Sally had to grab at desperately to stop him from rocketing out of the hut.

“Easy, Sonic! Easy!” Sally called, her voice strained as she held onto his shirt for dear life.

“This was a stupid idea! I can’t do this!” Sonic snapped.

“Yes you can,” Sally assured, tugging at Sonic’s shirt so he was now at her eye level. “Breathe first, look at me and breathe.”

Miraculously Sonic followed her instructions, though his breathing was so tense it sounded like his lungs had turned to stone. Sally cupped his cheeks and ran her hands through the fur that edged them, before running her hands up through his quills and along his ears, repeating the motions slowly.

“It’s okay, just tell me what you’re thinking,” Sally murmured.

“This is too different. I’m too different. I didn’t care before but no one was seein’ me either so it didn’t matter,” Sonic babbled, his voice catching at every few words. “I thought I could deal wit’ this.”

“You can, I know you can,” Sally assured, still running her hands along his cheeks and up.

She noticed that his quills were getting tenser with each passing second, so she switched to petting at his ears instead to not risk cutting her hands open from his quills. “I’m right here, and we don’t have to do it all at once. We can stop whenever you need to.”

“I just want it over wit’,” Sonic hissed.

“You can set the pace,” Sally said. “And you don’t have to look at anything or know anything because Bunnie isn’t going to say a word about what she’s measuring or seeing.”

The last part Sally said a little louder as she glanced at Bunnie, her expression stern enough for Bunnie to catch what she was hinting at. The cyborg rabbit nodded, desperate to make up for her slip up earlier.

“Mah lips are sealed, hon. Y’all just tell me when you want a break ‘nd Ah’ll stop. No ifs or buts about it,” Bunnie stated.

Sonic still looked like he would rather tear his own face off than go through with this, and every so often his eyes flinted to the door, desperately wanting to escape. But after a few minutes of having his ears petted and soft murmuring of reassurance from Sally his nerves started to calm, if just barely, and he took in another choked breath before he pulled away from Sally and stood in front of Bunnie.

“You get one shot, make it count,” Sonic murmured as he slipped off his shirt, but still held onto it with a death-like grip so that it was still within reach.

Bunnie got to work without another word. With Sonic’s height she did have to on occasion use her ladder-legs to get a more accurate measurement, and every time she did this Sonic would pointedly look away from her, his eyes fixated on a random spot in her hut.

Every touch from Bunnie also made him stiffen, his quills bristling whenever Bunnie had to linger for a little longer than he thought was necessary as his mind attempted to run away with ever possibility of why she was doing that. Whenever this happened Sally would snap her fingers to get his attention, then remind him to breathe by mimicking the motion herself. It would result in him taking another tense breath, though he would look a little calmer for it, if just barely.

The next challenge was asking for Sonic to strip further once Bunnie had gotten his upper body measurements down. Thankfully he was able to run through the motions of his panic in less time compared to when he had to remove his shirt, though it was obvious Sonic was getting to the end of his tolerance for the situation by this point.

All in all the whole session was about half an hour, as even with Sonic’s obvious discomfort Bunnie wanted to get as many measurements as she could just so she could avoid needing to ask him for more later down the line. But the moment Bunnie said she was done Sonic slipped back into his clothes and was out the door, not even bothering to put his shoes back on.

“Ah’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make that so uncomfortable for him,” Bunnie sighed.

“No, it’s okay. There’s just... a lot still going through his head, I think,” Sally explained. “Did you get what you needed though?”

“Ah did. ‘nd enough to guess anythin’ Ah missed, too,” Bunnie said. “Just leave it wit’ me. Y’know if he had any requests?”

“Just not too tight. So he can move around,” Sally said. “And... for other reasons, too, obviously.”

“Ah gotcha, no problem. Lemme know if y’need a hand wit’ him.”

Sally nodded, then headed back for her own hut, hoping Sonic was there and not on the other side of the planet by now.

Thankfully he was at her hut, though it took her a moment to find him as Sonic had buried himself under his bedcovers on his bed, a habit he had picked up since his return home. Sally resisted the urge to sigh as she sat down next to the lump of blankets and laid her hand on top of it, feeling it jump slightly at her touch.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Sally assured. “You did great.”

“Yeah right,” Sonic grumbled, his voice muffled. “That was embarrassin’.”

“Maybe, but you still did it,” Sally pointed out. “I saw how many times you wanted to run and you didn’t. Give yourself some credit there, Sonic.”

“Maybe another time, Sal.”

Sally patted at the blanket pile, hoping Sonic could feel it as she was sure there were at least ten odd blankets on him.

“Well I’m very proud of you.”

Sonic didn’t respond for a while, making Sally wonder if he had dozed off after fighting off his panic for so long. But after a few moments Sonic murmured a quiet thanks to her, and she smiled, before giving him one last pat through the blankets as she moved away to give him some space.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unmanageable 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Pete Brenner

Summary: your manager sets his eye on your (plus!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A thump jolts you from your work. You glance over lazily, chin cupped in your hand, as the murmur of voices follow. You cluck and reach for your earbuds, popping them in your ears before you can hear the subsequent disturbance.

Your job isn't glorious. Nothing really is in Hammer Ford. You're the line IT tech at the local bank working on ancient PCs which can't handle the national system's updates. Most of your time is spent trying to make a simple process work.

Work is work. You could do much worse than sitting forgotten behind a desk as the bank manager gets his jollies off with the clerk. This decrepit town can't offer much better, in terms of both male counterparts and career prospects.

The wired buds don't really block out the ruckus. You lean on an elbow and clack away at your keyboard. It never lasts very long.

You pluck away as the clock above your door ticks on. You yawn with your eyes open, dropping lower and lower as your eyes glaze over. A knock has your spine straight.

You clear your throat and call out, "yes?"

The door opens. Pete, the manager, fixes his tie as he enters, one tail of his shirt untucked, "hey, uh, I was having some issues with my laptop. I know it's not a work device but... I don't wanna drive all the way to the city."

"Hmm, I can have a look after work," you shrug. It's usually nothing. You typically have people calling on you for support outside your office walls.

"After work..." he repeats, "the wife kinda is expecting me to take her out for dinner, so..."

You repress a sigh. He is the manager. If you fall behind, it will only be his own fault.

"Sure, you need me right now?"

His eye brow tweaks and he drags his fingers around his half-grown goatee, "need you... oh, yeah, should I bring it to you or..."

"What's easier for you, sir?"

He chuckles, "you know, you're the only person who calls me that."

You just stare at him. He's your boss and you'd like to keep it that way. You get up, "here, I'll just come look."

"Thanks, sweetie," he grins as you cross the office, "life saver."

"Mhm," you hum as you near him.

He doesn't move. He just stands, his arm across the doorway and watches you. You look past him and clear your throat.

"Right, right," he steps back and swings his arms down, "the computer."

He retreats and turns away. As he does, you see Marska giving him a flustered look. Gross.

You follow him into his office and waits by the door as you pass. You try not to think of what just happened in there. Thankfully, you're not his type.

You wince as the door clicks shut.

"Oh, you don't have to--"

"Right," he overrides your protest, "I'll just get my laptop."

He goes around his desk and pulls out a sleek macbook. You don't see many of those. He puts it facing you and opens the lid.

"I'll let you poke around," he says as he presses his fingertip to the censor to unlock it, "it's just the damn mousepad."

"Right," you step up and squint at the screen. You lean in touch the pad. It's definitely lagging.

He strides away, pacing on the other side of the desk, hands in his pockets.

"Thing's too fancy for me," he scoffs, "but I like the look of it."

"It's a good machine," you confirm as you go into his drivers, searching for updates.

You feel him watching you but shrug it off. Everyone's a little touchy when you're on their personal device. He stops and bounces on his feet.

The cursor continues to jump around as you scroll and suddenly a window pops open. Safari resumes it's last tab and you quickly hit command W as you see a pending wheel atop a very explicit video. Yikes.

You try to not show the slip up as you go back to searching the drivers, "you got antivirus?"

"Uhhh, I think," he answers as if it isn't essential.

"Hm, doesn't look like it," you mutter, "I'm updating the mouse driver but you need security software."

"Right," he comes around as you click through the system window to update. He stands behind you and watches over your shoulder, "got any recs? I'll get it set up right away."

"Bitdefender's good," you suggest.

"Mm," he leans down, against you, putting his hands on the desk on either side of the laptop, "think you could show me where to find that."

"I can send you a link," you grit out, prickling at his proximity.

"Well," you move your arm back, prodding him with your elbow, soft enough for it to seem accidental, "that should be fine once it updates."

He huffs but backs away. Your neck is stiff with tension. You face him and check your watch.

"I'll get back to it," you say.

"Yeah, thanks, sweetie," he chimes, "sure you don't want a coffee? Take a load off."

"I'm good," you insist, "got a lot to do."

You open the door before he can catch up to you. As you leave, Marska watches over her shoulder from the front desk. You ignore her and quickly hide in your office. Knowing Pete isn't too aware of security procedures, you should do a review of the serves to make sure everything's safe.

[atom-writings]

hhhii!!! Your blog is looks really nice and your writing is also pretty good!! Can I request the main 8 with an s/o who usually wears contacts but one day they ran out and they have to wear glasses and the main 8 sees them with glasses for the first time? :3

Have a good day!!1!1!1!!1!1‼️🙏🔥

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) S/O Wears Glasses For the First Time!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N omg thank uuuu <3 this is such a cute request!! anon wherever u r i hope ur having a good day

Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!

“Dude! Why didn’t you tell me you wore glasses too! That’s so awesome, we’re like, twins or something.”

He’s actually going to be pretty excited! If he didn’t know, it was a pleasant surprise. He thinks that glasses make everyone look cuter (including him-) so you’re that much more adorable.

Also, he might steal them and put them on over his glasses. Just to make you laugh. And then he’ll always say “wow, you’re so blind!” even if your prescription is super low. 

Cannot stop staring at you. If you hate eye contact, it’s gonna be really annoying for a bit. But he just thinks you’re sooo cute… he can’t help it!

“You look absolutely lovely today, dear. I should’ve worn mine today, then we would’ve matched!”

Arthur is not that surprised. He would’ve asked if you wore contacts earlier, so he’d know your vision was not perfect. Neither is his! But he mostly wears glasses for uh… fashion reasons.

He might make fun of you a little bit, but he knows not to push it. He doesn’t want to annoy you too terribly. But maybe sometime he should move your glasses somewhere else… just so you have to ask for his help. Wouldn’t that be cute? No? Ah, well…

He might ask you not to wear your glasses very often if yours look like America’s though. It’s just… a little offputting. He might even offer to buy you a new pair in that case.

“Mon ange… have you been hiding this from me? You’re so adorable!”

He’s rather taken aback. He wasn’t expecting you to look so different… can you wear them all the time now? They make you look so modern and put together! 

If you ever put them down, he’s trying them on immediately. And then bothering you until you tell him that he looks cute in them. Just so he can say you look even cuter-

He’s definitely teasing you about it though. Even when you’re not wearing them, he’ll talk about you like you are. You’re gonna be on the receiving end of a lot of “you’re so blind!” jokes. Sorry!

“Ah, you look so silly! Is that why you never wear those?”

He doesn’t really care that much, but he does get a little excited. In a very juvenile way. But if he didn’t know you wore contacts before, he’s just the tiniest bit surprised.

Immediately, he asks to wear them. He’ll laugh at how terrible your vision is and tease you about it for longer than you care to deal with, too. 

Specifically, he’ll call you old. Just because he’s so ancient and still doesn’t need them (yet.) This may not be funny to you, but it is hysterical to him. Just walk away and act mad, and he’ll apologize.

“What a lovely surprise! Are they new?”

As soon as he sees you, he’s giggling and blushing. He just can’t get over how different you look! It makes you look even cuter and dorky… he just loves it!

He won’t ask to try them on, but he will try and get you to ask him to. Just being like, “They look so cute on you, I wonder how they would look on someone else. Someone… um. Not short like you.” Please give in, he would be so excited.

He won’t tease you too much, but he can’t stop himself from commenting on it. Not too embarrassingly though, more just like “You should wear them more!” No comments making fun of how terrible your vision is-

“Why didn’t you tell more you wear glasses before?! Awh, you look like Germany!”

He’s very excited! He’s immediately fawning about how cute you look,  which comes off as a little insulting because of his insistence on how different you look.

Asks if he can take a photo of you. Why? He tells you he needs this moment to be immortalized. It’s not that big of a deal… but to him it is. For some reason.  

He’s also gonna have his eyes glued to you the whole time. If you compliment him, he blushes way more than normal. It’s like it put him under some spell! Hopefully, he learns to control himself soon…

He just thinks you look so fancy and adorable!

“So… do you normally wear those? Because they uh… they fit your face. Wait… I mean they fit well!”

Ludwig is going to be a little taken aback at first. You look… different with those on. Your glasses may just be a little piece of plastic, but he thinks you’re so much cuter with them on…

But he doesn’t want you to be so embarrassed about it, so he doesn’t comment on it. Other than a quick “Oh!” when he first sees you, and a stifled “You look nice today….” later.

Whenever he wears his glasses, he hates people's reactions. So he won’t subject you to any unnecessary staring. Even though he really wants to-

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear glasses before. They suit you, my dear.”

Kiku doesn’t really react very strongly. Unless your glasses are super dorky. Then he’ll giggle a little bit at your nerdy appearance. But other than that, he won’t tease you about it.

The most he’ll do is just mention the change. Maybe ask if this is a permanent change or just for now. But mostly, he doesn’t care. He has to wear glasses sometimes as well, so if anything, it’s just another thing you have in common.

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 7**

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: getting that voice message from you is the last thing Frankie needs on his mind. As it turns out, it completely messes up his intentions.

word count: 4.1k

WARNINGS: cunnilingus, male masturbation, piv (safe).

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

gif: @javier-pena​ 

series masterlist | AO3

A headache replaces your usual morning alarm. You wake up confused, a little sweaty too, one eye open, the other one shut. You check your surroundings: you’re in your bed, the clothes from last night thrown carelessly on the floor.

You rise halfway, daring to open the other eye, and the headache worsens somehow. You realize it’s Saturday, and you couldn’t be more grateful at this very moment. You get to lounge and nurse your hangover today, and that is all anyone could ask for right now.

The phone on your nightstand reveals that it’s 10:31 a.m. You think that you should at least nibble on something before taking something for the pestering headache. The only thing you can digest right now is some toast, so you practically crawl your way into the kitchen to make just that. Your phone rings incessantly, the sound earning a loud grunt from you. You grab it from your nightstand, pleasantly remarking it’s Rose. You couldn’t handle anyone else today.

“You’re alive, that’s a good sign,” you say.

“Alive might be an overstatement.”

“You’re the one who said we were gonna get drunk last night.”

“You agreed to it.”

“True. But you knew what you were in for. You know you’re lightweight compared to me.”

“Oh, please, you had two extra cocktails, big deal.”

“How are you doing?”

“Well, I’m under my blankets with a big cup of coffee and ready to pop pills like the world ends tomorrow. Which, based on my headache, it might.”

You chuckle, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the table as you start buttering your toast.

“How are you doing?” Rose asks.

“Pretty much the same as you. Making some toast and ready to pop every headache pill in sight.”

“Ohh, some toast would be nice.”

“Come over and I’ll make you some.”

“But I’m all snuggled up!”

You laugh, triggering more of your headache.

“Oh hey, do you remember me talking on the phone last night?” you ask.

“Uh… I remember me talking on the phone. Oh, right, fucking work called.”

“It’s so weird, I feel like I’m the one who did the talking.”

You struggle to recall what you did specifically, but it all comes in patches, nothing short of blurriness.

“Oh hey, seems I called Frankie last night,” Rose says.

“You did? Why?”

“Honey, I don’t even know how the hell I managed to take my clothes off before getting into bed and yet I left the boots on. So unfortunately, I got no clue as to why I called Frankie.”

Something clicks in your head, and you gasp out loud. A clear picture forms in your mind, and you remain in shock.

“You didn’t call him,” you mutter. “I did.”

“What?”

“Oh God. Oh no, no, no.”

“Why did you—“

“I thought your phone was mine! I—I was drunk, I was scrolling and… I don’t know why I called him! This is why we never drunk dial!”

“I’m so sorry, I—I would’ve stopped you if I was there.”

“I know, I know. This… this isn’t on you. This is my fault. Just the call, not—“

“Not what?”

You falter, shutting your mouth just in time. You take a deep breath, trying to recall more specific things.

“What did you guys talk about?” Rose asks timidly.

“We didn’t talk. I… left him a voice message.”

“Saying…?”

“Saying… that he owes me an apology for the way he left. And… and that he should make things right.”

The second secret you are now keeping from Rose. It’s starting to bottle up, but you still don’t feel ready for that little shameful thing to come to surface. Best you deal with it quietly.

And what you need to do, as fast as you can, is sort things out with Frankie.

“Can you text me Frankie’s number?” you ask Rose. “I need to call him.”

She coos your name, softly yet sternly, and you huff.

“I do actually need to talk to him this time,” you say. “I’ve sobered up, and I am ready to face the consequences of my actions.”

“Fine. Just—be careful.”

“Why?”

“Because, honey, you’re about to have a big conversation with the man you’ve described as the love of your life, who so happens to be engaged. It’s dangerous territory. Not just for you. For anyone with feelings.”

You inhale, realizing the truth behind her kind words.

“It’ll be fine,” you reassure her and yourself simultaneously. “I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize his relationship with Andrea.”

“Good. Call me whenever it’s done.”

“I will. Now go eat something. Love you.”

“I will. Love you too.”

You wait a decent amount of time before your headache has subsided, going through all of last weekend’s events, as well as last night’s. You slowly start to remember every word you’d drunkenly told him, and you feel yourself falling apart. The more you stare at Frankie’s phone number, the larger the pit in your stomach is. There’s no liquid poison in your system now to give you courage, so you just gotta do it.

You exhale loudly, ready to call, then you hear the doorbell. You grunt, rushing to go to the door so you can dispose of whoever it is.

Then, as you answer the door, your heart stills.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, stunned.

Frankie stares you down, munching on his lower lip, clearly upset. “Asked Pope for your address. Figured we should talk face to face.”

“Sure. Come on in.”

The minute Frankie crosses the threshold into your apartment, there’s a knot in your throat, persistent and painful. You observe him from afar at first, watching him pace around the living room, hands on his hips. Who knows what’s in his head, how nervous he is. You know he got your message, and now you are waiting for the inevitable explosion.

“We said we’re just acquaintances,” Frankie grumbles, facing away. “That voice message was anything but that.”

“I was drunk! This is why we don’t let drunk people dial! And Rose should’ve been able to stop me, had she not taken a work call when we were binge drinking. Which now, as I’m saying it out loud, might’ve been a ruse so she could have sex phone with Santi.”

Frankie makes a grossed out face, and then it hits him.

“Rose and Pope?” he asks under his breath. “You mean, you two aren’t…?”

You scoff, growing more and more upset. “No, you moron! No, we’re just friends, we’re close friends like you and I were before you decided to just walk out on everything we had!”

“I didn’t walk out, okay? It’s more difficult than that.”

“Then help me understand! Tell me something useful, something that might explain to me why you destroyed our friendship, and why you broke my heart. Explain it to me, Francisco.”

He falters, his nostrils flaring in anger and disappointment. At himself, at his stupid actions, when all he should’ve done is talk to you, communicate.

Words cut deep though, they carve wounds that may only scar. Yet now, with this wound, it feels like you are both picking at the freshly created scab, rubbing it furiously and pouring alcohol over it.

“How could you say those things to me?” Frankie suddenly asks, and it’s picking at the scab even more.

There is so much anger building up inside you once you hear him say those words with such bold audacity that it makes you see red.

“How could I?” you retaliate. “You really wanna get into a ‘how could you’ game?”

“You know what? I really do. We’re having the conversation, now.”

“Okay, fine. How could you kiss me? Why?”

Face reddened with the shade of regret and shame, Frankie simply stares at you, his mind involuntarily replaying that damned kiss in his head, along with the night the two of you said your goodbyes and he practically begged you to stay.

“Why, Francisco?” you repeat.

“Why do you think?” he grunts, almost as if in pain.

“I can’t let myself think about that. It’s wrong.”

“I didn’t say it was right. But I did it because I wanted to. Deep down… I wanted to.”

There you have it. The most visceral, unexpected and wild response you could’ve ever gotten. It’s very flattering, and it shouldn’t be.

“How could you just end our friendship? How could you just walk away after everything we’ve shared?”

“You were leaving and we agreed we were great as friends.”

“But then you left me anyway, and that’s a load of crap! It’s what people tell each other to make themselves feel better about their stupid, cowardly choices! Guess what, nothing in my life was better after that! I’m not one of those girls whose world revolves around a guy, but losing one of my best friends was horrid. I left abroad and I was miserable for a good portion of my studies because I kept wondering what I did wrong, what could I possibly have done differently and I hated that. I hated how much you made me second-guess my own worth. I swore to myself that no one would ever do that to me again, and here I fucking am, going through it all over again. And because of you, again!”

Frankie stares at the floor, smiling to himself in frustration.

“It wasn’t you,” he mutters under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t you.”

You chuckle mockingly. “Great, here comes the ‘it wasn’t you, it was me’ speech.”

But Frankie’s anger merely simmers beneath the surface. There is more to it, boiling underneath, and has been for a while. None of it is about you, though. It’s about the unfair and cruel choices he’s made, and how he forced himself to be the better man and make the right decisions for everyone.

Only to mess up anyway.

“It was me, okay?” he grunts, inching towards you. “I met Andrea a few months after you left, we became friends and—“

Your chuckle turns into a manic laughter, paralyzed by your own disappointment.

“You cut me out of your life because you’ve made a new friend?” you say as acidly and mockingly as possible. “Really? Are you fucking kidding me right now? That is the lamest, stupidest, most hurtful—“

“I had to cut you out of my life because she’s not you!”

The way he’s shouting, it’s filled with pain and betrayal, betrayal from his own self. None of this is actually because of you. He could never be mad at you, he could never hate you, and he could never fully get your out of his head.

Or his heart.

“I had to do it,” he continues, eyes dark and apologetic. “And I had to do it because… you were following your dream, I couldn’t fucking stop you from doing that. You’ve always wanted to study abroad, it was your dream.”

He makes a disapproving noise, resuming his pacing around the living room.

“The night we met, when you told me you got into Cambridge… you’ve never looked so happy, so accomplished. And I was so proud of you, so damn happy for you, I swear I was. But that night…”

You hear his voice break in the slightest, and it aches you, for reasons you know damn well, and for the same reasons you’re struggling to keep it all bottled up inside, deep, deep down.

“What?” you ask, nearly pleading, and it aches Frankie just as much.

He inhales profoundly, reminiscing of that memory. “That night, when you told me you go in and that you were moving away… I was going to tell you that I loved you,” he confesses. “I asked you out so that I could tell you that. And then you broke the news and… I couldn’t stop you from following your dream. Even if all I wanted to do in that moment was to tell you that I loved you and that I wanted you to stay. It would’ve been selfish. I’ve actually wished you would’ve never gotten into that college, just so you could stay. It scared the crap out of me to acknowledge that I could be so careless and cruel that I wanted you to fail, just so that I could have you there with me, with all of us. And I know that what I’ve done instead isn’t any better and I am truly so, so sorry for hurting you, but… at least it offered you the space to be the best.”

You stare at him, utterly bewildered. You wanted the truth and now you’ve got it. You just didn’t think it would be this painful, this eye-opening. You hadn’t expected it to cut you so deep, and you certainly hadn’t expected it to make you question your very own morals.

“You… you really were coming over to tell me that?”

His voice is small and fearful as he replies, “Yes. I was.”

He’s standing so close to you now, it’s like his presence is invading all of your senses. It’s like you’re full with him, like he surrounds you in ways you would’ve never thought of as possible.

“Look, Andrea is not you, okay?” he resumes, staring at you with big, puppy eyes. “She could never be you, and… I couldn’t spend the rest of my relationship wondering if I made the right choice.”

“Did you?”

“We’re engaged. Or… we were.”

The moment the words roll down his tongue, in such a blunt and almost careless way, you can’t help but stare at him in shock.

“You were? What happened?”

You gulp, fearing that this isn’t about you. You hope and pray that it’s not about that hasty kiss you shared with Frankie, or the voice message, because you know you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you were the sole reason why his engagement fell apart.

“She’s having second thoughts,” Frankie replies. Fears, doubts, whatever the hell you wanna call them. So we agreed to take a break.”

“So what does that mean? Is the wedding off?”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know anything, I just—it’s hard to tell left from right when your perfume is… all over the place. When you’re just so… soft. And you’re here and… Andrea and I can’t ever agree on a single damn thing about our future together, if there’s any at the moment. And… we’re not together right now, and haven’t really been in weeks.”

His warm breath is all over your face, so you close your eyes in hopes that if you don’t see him so up close, you won’t surrender. You hope that if you close your eyes, somehow, you’d be able to keep him away, to not listen to the pestering little voice at the back of your mind and how it makes you burn, itch, crave and yearn all at once for something you can’t have.

Something you shouldn’t have.

It still feels wrong and forbidden, no matter what Frankie says. You can feel it in your bones, in your gut, and you can’t just let it slide, not even when one of his calloused hands grazes your cheek ever so tenderly that your whole body trembles. But perhaps the forbidden aspect is what makes everything so much more enticing, so appealing in so many ways that you would never consider otherwise.

You linger with your own motions, and it’s all a dangerously slippery slope from hereon after. His forehead is pressed against yours, your unsteady breaths in sync as they become the sole sound in the whole apartment. When you open your eyes, Frankie does too, and you find yourselves staring at each other in a pleading manner. All you can feel right now are his hands on your hips, touching only tentatively, but even that is sending you over the edges of sanity.

It gets a bit blurry after that. You feel his mouth on yours again, this time in a deeper, sloppier kiss that instantly turns you both into a couple of sinners.

What’s worse, you find yourself reciprocating without much hesitation. You don’t fight it as much, even though you probably should. Truthfully, it’s been a long time since you felt something even remotely close to the way your body feels right now, and a dark side of you doesn’t want this to end.

But nothing about the way Frankie expertly presses his body onto yours feels sinful. It almost feels… natural. Like you should’ve been doing this for a long time. Greediness consumes you both as you stumble onto your bedroom, clashing on the bed with Frankie atop of you. As his mouth starts to leave a wet trail down your jaw and neck, you spread your legs, thus allowing him space to grind in between. Each touch is electric, every passing second tormenting and ecstatic. Neither of you says anything; you both want to prolong this moment as much as you can, but you also want it done fast, rough and messy, get it over with.

You watch in a trance as Frankie’s strong arms pull down your pants and along with your underwear. The sight is making you feel drunker than you were last night, like you’re about to explode if you won’t get through with this.

Frankie’s just as impatient; he’s so hard now that he might just come in his pants like a pathetic whiny teenager at the sight of you fully on display like this. Your pussy is nearly glistening with slickness, now being completely engulfed by Frankie’s mouth. His mustache and stubble tickle you, awakening senses in you that make you think you’ve been kissing and sleeping with the wrong people all your adult life. Simply feeling him like this is enough to make you go crazy.

You could easily come just like this. It’s maddening, the sensation of sufficiency and insufficiency, both in a delicious juxtaposition with each other. Your fingers snake their way up into his hair, tugging roughly, thus earning a grunt from him that reverberates throughout your pussy. The vibration sends you in overdrive; you desperately try to rub yourself against his face while Frankie’s hands hold your thighs in place, his tongue licking furiously against your folds, his nose nudged into your clit.

The white, hot pleasure that sears through you is nearly debilitating. Frankie knows what he’s doing, collecting every ounce of arousal he can right into his mouth. You can’t help the moans that escape your mouth, and yet you do everything in your power to not moan his name. That is the one thing you cannot do. If you do it, if you allow him and yourself that… you’ll give this affair all the power to destroy you all.

Words flee from your mind. The sounds emerging from in between your legs are downright obscene, glib, but God, they’re perfect. Frankie is just as riled up, if not more; he can’t think straight anymore, not when he’s quite drunk on you and tasting you so intimately, giving you exactly what you want and need. He fumbles with unzipping his jeans, needing more. He’s so hard, it hurts to even touch the hem of his boxers. But he has to, he needs this so fucking much, it’s consuming him entirely.

When he finally curls his hand around his cock, he grunts against your cunt, probably grunting some nonsensical words too, but it’s just as irrelevant as talking at all. You trigger each other through the sounds of pleasure emanating from your bodies: you moan, he moans. You rub yourself against his face, he fists his cock faster. You’re both driven by lust, the sensation having its roots deep into other emotions as well: love, abandonment, disappointment, everything else that makes up your history with each other.

Once you come, your body seizes up, legs locked around his face while Frankie still drinks from you. He feels his own climax creeping up on him, so he forces himself to stop. It’s more hurtful than before, but if he’s gonna sin, he might as well do it properly.

He wants to feel you. Wholly, completely unbound and unhinged. So he licks his lips, taking just a fleeting second to admire you beautifully fucked out face, and how mesmerizing you are.

No thinking, he reminds himself. No thinking, no talking, just living in this immoral moment.

So he searches in the pockets of his jeans, not even pulled down properly, but just enough to allow him wiggle room to stroke himself. Alas, he finds the little pesky wrapper and quickly tears it off, placing the condom on his cock, and kneading the flesh of your thighs with tenderness before he guides himself to your entrance.

You watch in awe, your heart beating so fast with anticipation that it almost bursts out of your chest. You want to beg, to mutter something, but you fear that if you talk, it might give this moment more meaning, and you refuse to do that.

You gasp, the sound broken in tiny little pieces when you finally feel Frankie inside you. You’re both still half dressed, too eager and aware of what you are doing to properly do this, but you do know that you are solely guided by lust and forbidden love. Frankie makes a sound like he’s choking, and you can see it on his face that he’s falling apart too, perhaps much more than you are. He rolls his lips once, twice, and the way he’s sliding into you has you seeing stars.

It’s never felt this way before.

You know that it’s because of how you feel about him, but even if you’d voice that, it would be futile. The situation is too precarious already, and you can’t give this moment any more meaning than it already has.

The pace Frankie sets is slow at first, simply feeling you gush around him, warm and tight and so, so full of him. His head falls in the crook of your neck, his hair messy and forehead sweaty as he gives into what you both so desperately crave. You can feel his lips trying to pepper kisses on your neck, his breaths fast and irregular. You hold him by the back of his neck, your touch careful and sweet as he snaps his hips faster, desperate, just like the two of you. That’s just how you need it, speedy and a little bit rough. Too much regret eats you alive to not seize the moment, too many unspoken words and far too much unrequited love contained in the same place.

Frankie is absolutely lost in you, in your scent, in your taste, all of you. He is so hungry and desperate for you, all he can think about is coming. And he feels it crashing over him in no time; he spills himself inside the condom, his thrusts now sloppy as his body reaches ecstasy. His breath is harsh against your neck, his eyes dying to find yours, to gaze lovingly into them.

But he can’t. It would mean too much. It would completely devastate him if he’d do that while he came.

So he doesn’t. He looks everywhere but directly into your eyes, and you do the same. You avoid his facial expression to the best of your abilities, even though you’re already addicted to this feeling, and you suspect he is, too. But now that it’s over, now that Frankie finds enough strength to pull out of you and clean himself up before he leaves without uttering a single word, he knows this made things even worse. He knows this complicates things further, and he can’t help but think back to Andrea and her decision to press pause on their relationship and what it truly means. He momentarily wonders if she had done something similar.

But it’s too much, both reeling from the crushing force of his orgasm and how it felt to be inside you at last, and thinking about the reasons why marriage might no longer be an option. He can’t think about all of that, his head hurts as much as his joints and heart.

He does throw you a glance before he leaves, as if apologizing. You understand as much, and you share that feeling as much. If you couldn’t stop thinking about a pathetic little kiss, how were you going to be able to keep this out of your mind?

How will you—or he—be able to face each other, knowing what you did, and how much it meant to both of you?

previous | next

[decks-writing-blog]

Poison

Summary: Alyx tries some of the vodka she brought back for Russell.

[A/N] Content Warning for alcohol, drinking, and vomiting.

~

On the table between them Russell placed down the bottle of vodka, a pack of playing cards and two of the smallest glasses Alyx had ever seen. Not her first time seeing such glasses, there’d been plenty at the bar portion of the distillery. They had to be for samples, right? Him having horded sample glasses from who even knew where made sense, collecting junk was kind of his thing after all. But then why was he bringing them out instead of his proper glasses? He’d been excited about the vodka so one would think he’d want a full cup’s worth, right? Meaning Alyx’s initial guess might be wrong.

“What’s with the tiny glasses?” she asked as he reached for the bottle.

“They’re called shot glasses. And they’re called that ‘cause you take shots outta them. Which uh… you probably also don’t know what is in this context, huh? Basically I’m gonna fill these and then we’re gonna drink it all in one swallow, fast as we can.”

“But then I won’t taste it.”

“Exactly. The point is to taste it for as short a time as possible.” With that he wrapped his other hand around the bottles cap. His face turned slightly redder with the effort he put into twisting before it finally gave. After filling both glasses near to the brim, he placed the cap to the side and pushed one the short glasses towards her.

“All right weird but… whatever.” He’d already made clear it wasn’t about the taste after all. It was poison that that a pleasant effect somehow; fun to drink and ‘good for the soul’. “What about the playing cards?”

“I was thinking we could play a drinking game, I know a couple that can be played with two people. But on second thought, since its your first time drinking, that’s probably not a good idea. Instead we’ll just hang out and maybe play some no stakes poker. You do know how to play poker, right?”

“Of course.” A pack of cards was easy to carry around and thus various games involving them were common leisure activities in every Resistance stronghold.

“Good, good. Now…” He lifted his shot glass to his mouth and did indeed drink it as seemingly fast as he possibly could. Lowering it, he grimaced slightly as if it had tasted foul. Despite that, he pulled the bottle over and refilled his glass, again basically to the brim. “Now your turn.”

Alyx lifted her glass and… paused because it smelled as if it had gone bad. With how old it supposedly was she wouldn’t have dared drink it if she hadn’t already seen Russell do so without complaint. He would’ve said something if he detected it was off. Probably it was supposed to smell like that… hopefully. And so she threw it back, downing it in one swallow as instructed..

Bad as it smelled, it tasted even worse. More than that though it burned. Not the burn of the rare times she’d had the chance to try spicy foods but something entirely different that set her to coughing into her elbow.

“You okay?” Russell asked a few seconds as she caught her breath.

“That wasn’t fun or pleasant in any way.” She gave him her best glare. “Was this some kind of elaborate prank?”

“No, no, of course not. It just takes a bit of time to work and another shot or two. Not immediately, doing them too fast is bad, especially for your first time. I should probably take it slow too since it’s been a while since I last got drunk. So let’s play some poker, huh?”

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” She still wasn’t sure but why would he lie to her?

~

Alyx was stupid. Or no, she wasn’t stupid in general she just felt stupid right now. Similar to when she stayed up too late and her thoughts grew soft and hazy with exhaustion. It wasn’t exhaustion though but something else. The vodka probably.

Being stupid was neither fun nor a good feeling. It made it hard to think properly which also meant if anything bad happened she’d have trouble responding properly. The anxiety that thought triggered wasn’t as intense as it should’ve been. … Or was it? Maybe it really wasn’t that big a deal?

If she kept drinking, would the fun and pleasant feeling eventually come? That’s how this worked? It was unpleasant at first but got better, good even, enough to warrant Russell’s excitement about it. And so when he asked if she wanted another shot, she accepted. They were starting to taste not good or even better but somehow also not as bad.

~

Russell managed to get a bucket into Alyx’s hands mere seconds before she was vomiting into it. Standing up had been a mistake. The world rocked, making it impossible to stay properly on her feet and turning her, “I feel kinda sick,” into this.

“All righty, I think uh… think you’re done drinking for tonight,” Russell said from somewhere above her, the slight slur to his voice making him a bit hard to understand. Or maybe that was just Alyx not being able to think straight.

“It’s not fun yet though. Supposed to be fun.” Was she slurring too? She couldn’t tell.

“Eh, I’m having fun. … Or I was before uh…” He cut off as Alyx threw up again. “Before you started doing that.”

“Not fun. You said it was fun. Made you feel good.” She didn’t dare look at him as she continued to clutch the bucket to her chest. The stench of her vomit wafting out of it made her insides clench in threat of another upheaval. A good reason to push it away but also a good reason to keep hold of it. … She chose the latter for now.

“It is for most folk. But uh… first time getting drunk usually ain’t. Probably should’ve warned you ‘bout that but I forget it was a thing, been a while, you know. I suppose I also should’ve cut you off a bit sooner but uh… ain’t exactly completely sober myself so… yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Too out of it to be properly mad at him – not that he was even entirely to blame, she’d chosen to keep drinking even after realizing she wasn’t having fun – Alyx could only groan in response.

“Your dad knows you’re here, right? You told him you were coming over to drink with me?”

“Yeah. He told me to be careful.” At the time she’d assumed he meant careful on the way over since they were still meant to be lying low while they waited for the Combine to stop actively looking for them, hopefully even presuming them dead. Now though, it was clear he might’ve also meant ‘be careful’ about the whole drinking thing too.

“Great. That means he probably won’t be too mad with me for this. I’ll call him up and let him know how your doing and that you’re probably gonna be sleeping it off my couch tonight ‘less he wants to come get you.”

“Thanks.” Normally Alyx would’ve wanted to join in that call but… if she stood she’d probably fall to her knees and puke again. So instead she was going to stay right here. Just for a bit longer to make sure she was done vomiting and then she was going to crawl over and onto the couch so she could take a nap. And then she was never going to do this again because it sucked.

[kid-blinks-eyepatch]

Blush

strike troubles 😮🔫

(A/N BE WARNED: the ending is really rushed)

uh i should prolly put a tw so:

TW: guns

-Blink-

In my defense I wasn’t exactly expecting to get pulled into an ally and have a gun crammed down my throat. I froze, unsure of what exactly to do- this had never happened before seeing as I was currently alive and i didn’t think that I was gonna walk away from this. 

“Keep ya mouth shut ya lil’ crip” a man snarled at me. I wished I didn’t have a gun shoved down my throat so I could reply. I thought- I supposed I could kick the man, but there was no real guarantee that he’d let go of the gun. I clenched my fists. I could away just punch him. He must have noticed me tending because he laughed

“Not quite ya lil freakshow- you ain’t goin anywhere, wanna know why?” He laughed harshly “cause i got a gun and it’s crammed in ya mouth at the moment kid- and that little trigger is gonna make sure you do-“ at that point smalls had snuck up behind him while he was talking and leapt on him. She was able to get him knocked out by the time I spat out all the blood in my mouth. She looked at me

“You alright?” I nodded, rubbing my jaw

“Thanks smalls”

“Sure thing” she replied, then gingerly picked up the gun “the hell do we do with this?”

“Here” I said, holding out my hand. I took the Bullets out and tossed the empty gun on the man’s head. Smalls laughed before jumping back into the strike rally. I felt the bile rising in my throat and I stomped to the back of the ally to puke. Once I was sure I had gotten everything out of my system I shoved the bullets in my pocket and followed Smalls.

***

I groaned as Race pressed on my ribcage. Him, Jack and Mush were the only ones I allowed to touch me, and even then I really only was okay with  Mush touching me. I bit back a yelp as Race pressed on a place that had been throbbing.

“Yeah it’s broken shithead” I snapped. Race poked that spot again and I hissed in pain

“Yeah well I’m tryin ta help” Race snapped back “now sit up” I rolled my eye but made myself sit up. Race started to wrap my ribs but Mush sat down and Tace abandoned the project. I sighed as Mush finished.

“I can do it myself mush- I don’t need help” I said, pulling my shirt on. Mush shrugged, watching me.

“What?” I snapped, irritated. He shrugged again, I sighed, which my ribs thoroughly objected to. That made me even more pissy and I bared my teeth at Mush

“What is your problem?” I growled. He just shrugged and leaned against the beam supporting the bunk above me. I groaned, rubbing my face.

“What happened?” He asked softly. I shrugged

“You get hit in the head or something?” He laughed, goddamn I could listen to that sound forever.

“Well yes actually, but I’m talking about why you have such a bitchy attitude today”

“BeCaUsE iTs BeEn A sHiTtY dAy MuSh” I said, crossing my arms

“How so?”

“everything hurts” I replied “my ribs my leg my shoulder my jaw my knuckles-“

“Your jaw?”

“Yes my jaw”

“Why?”

“I ha- no reason” I said, not wanting to talk about it with anyone.

“Blink dont lie to me”

“I’m not i got punched or maybe it was when I got slammed against the ally wall” I said, irritated. It may have been the pain too- I got really irritable with pain.

“Does this hurt?” Mush poked my jacket pocket. I looked at him in confusion. He reached into it and dropped the bullets in my lap.

“Explain” he said, crossing his arms. I groaned and picked up the bullets from my lap. I shrugged and put them in the pocket of my pants.

“Nothin Mushy”

“Patch, explain it”

“It’s nothing” i muttered, avoiding eye contact. Mush rolled his eyes and crosses his Legs

“I can sit here all night” he said. I rolled my eyes and shifted so i was flat on my back

“Go ahead” I snapped.

-mush pov-

I looked at Blink then at the bullet in my hand then back at Blink. I glanced around the bunkroom. Nobody was paying attention to us- honestly everyone was either asleep, knocked out, just not in the building or making out in Finch and Albert’s case. Sighing, I pinned Blinks shoulders against the bed, he looked up at me, startled 

“What happened?” I demanded, he just rolled his eye 

“Nothing! It don’t matter to ya anyways” he said, flushing a deep red. I leaned a little closer and he turned redder. 

“Blink, what happened?” He swallowed and turned his head away. I turned it back and kissed him. I pulled away and flopped down next to him. He whined, hiding his face in the pillow. I laughed

“Blinky I’m gonna do that more now”

“Shuddup!” He whined. I laughed

“You gonna share now?” I asked, he huffed, I just laughed. I was shocked by the fact that he wiggled against me, wanting physical contact. 

“They uh- gun” Blink muttered. I looked at him

“What?”

“He uh- he had a gun… and uh, they’re as ready to shoot me” he mumbled “woulda gotten shot but Smalls knocked em out” he said, I kissed his hair.

“Can, can we do this in the morning?” Blink asked, I nodded

“Goodnight Blinky”

“Night Mush”

“Feel any better?”

“Lil bit”