#smart stubborn Bitters

[gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes]

Have some Lil Bit, 38 years old and going off to greener pastures today. It’s so hard to let them go. 💔

[skyahri]

Blind |Naruto Men X Uchiha!Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Madara Uchiha, Hashirama Senju

Summary: How they handle their partner losing their sight due to the effects of the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Warnings: Mentions of fem, but not very relevant. Mentions of war and loss of sight.

Masterlist Ko-fi

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Kakashi Hatake

He knew the day would come when the Sharingan would take your vision, but he didn't know it'd be so soon.

There were no other eyes available to you at the moment, so eternal was not an option.

Not that'd you do it anyway. It was highly against your beliefs to partake in the Uchiha nonsense that was eye swapping.

Something that drew Kakashi towards you in the first place.

You'd been preparing for this day since you first awakened your mangekyo.

You'd memorized the layout of your apartment, practiced roaming the village in a blind fold, and learned braille.

You'd been coping well, Kakashi... not so much.

He couldn't deal with the knowledge that you'd sacrificed your vision for the sake of the village.

You'd given up everything during your years as a shinobi, and this was the icing on top of the cake.

He'd watch you every day.

Watch you drag your hands across the walls of your apartment. Watch you walk a bit too far past the stall in the market. Watched you struggle to do simple things like grocery shopping.

Over time, you'd become worse and worse at eye contact, and that ate him alive.

There were no more longing looks or sneaky glances. Even your attempts to appear as if you could see were slowly declining, and it dampened his mood every time.

He felt as if he'd failed you. If only he'd been stronger, you wouldn't have had to overuse your doujutsu.

But he stayed quiet because you seemed happy. You were alive and safe and happy, and that's all he could ask for.

Shikamaru Nara

After the war, your vision had completely vanished. There were no blurry shapes or deaf perception problems because there was simply no sight.

There was no time to prepare. You hadn't planned on having to use the mangekyo so much in battle, and the price was astronomical.

He tried to help where he could, but you were being stubborn, constantly rejecting any aid he tried to provide.

"Just let me-"

"I told you I can do it myself."

"No, you can't, just let me-"

And that's when he felt the sobs rack through your body. Tears quickly fell down your face and your hands couldn't keep up.

He sighed and forced everything out of your hands.

"I can't do anything anymore."

"That's not true."

You scoffed, a bitter laugh leaving your lips.

"I can't go grocery shopping or cut fruit or put dishes away without running into everything or breaking something or,"

"Give it time. It'll get better."

"Two weeks ago, I was a shinobi. Today, I'm just a blind girl who can barely feed herself."

Shikamaru wasn't sure what to do. Strategy was easy becausebit was all factual. Feelings, though? So many variables he didn't know where to start.

He confided in Kakashi at some point, but wasn't too pleased with the advice he got it.

"Let her figure it out. She's a smart girl."

Despite thinking it was a stupid suggestion, he listened.

Slowly, over time, you'd regained your confidence and became the capable person you had previously been.

Doesn't stop Shikamaru from uncharacteristically babying you sometimes, though.

Sasuke Uchiha

He offered you his eyes, but you declined.

You weren't fond of Uchiha tradition despite being raised by it. Taking his eyes just felt like you'd be starting the new age Uchiha clan off on the wrong foot.

So you chose blindness.

It was difficult at first, but you quickly learned to get around and help yourself with little to no issue.

You'd gone from stumbling around the kitchen to making yourself breakfast within a few months.

Living with out sight wasn't too bad, and you'd grown accustomed to it. You felt like you'd made the right decision.

Until your first son was born.

It wasn't the parenting aspect that you found difficult, it was the emotional one.

When Sasuke told you your son looked just like Itachi, you knew you'd have to see for yourself.

So, you allowed Sakura to do the transplant.

Within seconds after the bandages were off and you had time to adjust to light, your sight was fully restored.

Sasuke brought in your baby, and wouldn't you know it? He looks exactly like Itachi.

The sharingan is based on strong emotions, yeah? Maybe you can base it on love in the new Era.

Naruto Uzumaki

Unlike the others, Naruto finds the whole eye transplant thing horrendous.

"What do you mean by that, huh? You freaks just trade eyes like around? That's the worst thing I've ever heard."

Although he wasn't happy with your newfound loss of sight, he wasn't one to label anything as a downside.

A setback? Sure. Negative? Never.

Hes overall very patient about it, even if in the moment he gets a little ahead of himself.

He's always forgetting that you're blind, so he'll ask you to look at things all the time.

"Hey, what's this?"

You just shrug. He may or may not bring your hand to the object to get a feel, but he mostly just gets embarrassed and drops it.

It honestly hadn't really dawned on him until he asked you to go train with him and you'd refused.

Sure, you could overtime work yourself up to be a shinobi again, but at this point in your life, that just wasn't the dream anymore.

Madara Uchiha

He thinks you're being stupid.

This world is all about power and you're choosing to be blind?

Idiotic.

You may be his wife, but he ignores you for quite some time after you make it clear there will be no eternal in your future.

It's an easy justification for him; he doesn't mingle with the weak.

Life gets pretty lonely after he decides to completely shut you out. Yeah, he sees Hashirama and makes his round through the compound, but it's not the same.

It isn't until he sees you in the village, going about life as you had months ago, that he starts to think maybe he was too hasty.

After all, he had married you for many reasons, and a big one was how skilled you were at adapting.

That night, when he finally returns home, he decides to sleep in your marital bed, not in the guest room.

The next day, he joins you for breakfast.

He came home early from his duties for the first time in a while.

He even started speaking to you once again.

You don't say anything right away. You know how he is about changing his mind, and you aren't willing to push your luck.

Things slowly get better over the span of a few weeks, and that's when you decide it's time to question him.

"I take it you've come to terms with my decision?"

"Of course not. I still think you're a fool."

Just the answer you'd expect.

"But I have missed you dearly."

You smile at him.

Hashirama Senju

The eternal was never something either of you had considered, so when your vision eventually dulled, it was fully expected.

Times were peaceful at the moment, so he had no need to worry for your safety.

You were almost always near someone willing to lay their life down for you- himself, Tobirama (reluctantly), or Madara - so there truly was no need to stress.

He helped as much as he could while also attending to his duties as Hokage.

Unlike Naruto, he had true patience. He happily held your hand every step of the way.

It wasn't long before your life was back on track, no longer burdened by the anxiety that came with cluelessness.

While Hashirama had preferred it never come to this in the first place, he was happy that things had worked out as best as they possibly could.

[reidsworld]

The Time We Have

Summary: Logan struggles with the fear of dying and leaving Laura alone, but meeting you helps him find peace. Set in an AU where Logan does not die at the end of Logan (2017).

Paring: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Talks of death.

Word Count: 1.4k

Mars speaks… gif is from pinterest!

Masterlist

Logan’s knuckles ache, the bones beneath his skin creaking with every movement as if they’re finally giving in to the wear of time. It’s a pain that never quite leaves him anymore, a constant reminder that his body is failing him, betraying him in ways he never thought possible. He’s lived more lifetimes than most, fought more battles than he can count, and somehow, it’s this—this slow, inevitable decay—that feels like the cruelest blow of all.

He’s not afraid of dying. That’s never been something that scared him. He’s seen it too many times, come too close to it on too many occasions, to feel anything other than a resigned acceptance when he thinks about the end. But this… this slow, agonising decline is something different. It’s not the swift, clean death he always imagined for himself, the kind that comes in battle, in the heat of the moment. No, this is something that eats away at him bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but a shadow of the man he used to be.

And that scares him. Not the dying part—he’s made his peace with that—but the idea of leaving Laura alone in a world that’s anything but kind. He’s fought so hard to keep her safe, to give her a chance at a life he never thought he’d have to walk away from before it was time. The thought of her being alone, without anyone to protect her, has kept him up more nights than he can count.

He doesn’t talk about it. He’s never been one to share what’s on his mind, to let anyone see the cracks beneath the surface. But it’s there, every time he looks in the mirror and sees the new lines on his face, every time his claws take just a little longer to come out, every time he feels the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones.

It’s a bitter realisation, knowing that his time is running out. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he’s slowly dying and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. The adamantium that made him unbreakable is now his undoing, poisoning him from the inside out. And there’s no one left to save him, no one who can stop the inevitable.

He’s spent his life fighting, surviving against impossible odds, but this is a battle he knows he can’t win. It’s a fight he’s destined to lose, and it’s not something he’s ever been good at accepting.

And then, he met you.

You came into his life like a breath of fresh air, a light in the darkness that had consumed him for so long. He didn’t want to let you in at first, didn’t want to admit that you could make any kind of difference in the mess that his life had become. But you were persistent, stubborn in that way he’s come to admire, and somehow, without him even realizing it, you slipped past all the walls he’d built up around himself.

You weren’t like anyone he’d ever met. A mutant, yes, but your powers weren’t about brute strength or regeneration. Instead, you had the ability to manipulate energy, to create barriers and shields that could protect those around you. It was a power that reflected who you were—a protector, a guardian. And it was exactly what he and Laura needed. Before he knew it, he found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was Laura who first noticed the change in him, the way he seemed lighter somehow, less burdened by the weight of the world. She’d always been perceptive, too smart for her own good, and she didn’t hesitate to call him out on it.

“You’re different,” she said one day, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. “You’re… happier.”

Logan had grunted in response, not wanting to admit that she was right. He wasn’t used to being happy, wasn’t used to feeling anything other than anger or pain. But with you, it was different. You didn’t change his purpose; you just made the burden lighter, made it easier to carry on knowing you were by his side.

But you didn’t push him. You let him come to terms with it on his own, never demanding more than he was willing to give. You were patient, understanding in a way that made him feel like he could finally breathe, like he didn’t have to be on guard all the time.

And slowly, without even realising it, Logan found himself accepting the inevitable. He was dying—there was no denying that. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like a death sentence. It felt like… closure. Like maybe he could finally find peace, knowing that he wasn’t leaving Laura alone, that you’d be there, that you’d spend the rest of your life with him.

One night, as you lay curled up against him on the couch, your head resting on his chest, he found himself speaking the words that had been weighing on his mind for so long.

“I’m not gonna be around forever,” he said quietly, his voice rough with the weight of the truth. “I’m dying, and there’s nothin’ I can do to stop it.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you lifted your head to look at him, your eyes full of understanding and love. “I know,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

He let out a slow breath, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “I’m scared,” he admitted, the words coming out before he could stop them. “I’m not used to this… to not knowin’ what’s gonna happen. To not bein’ able to fight back.”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Logan,” you said, your voice full of warmth. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re not alone in this. Laura and I… we’re here for you, for as long as you need us.”

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “I don’t know how much time I have left,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But whatever time I do have… I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”

You smiled, a soft, loving smile that made his heart ache with something he couldn’t quite name. “Me too,” you said simply, as if there was no question, no doubt in your mind.

And in that moment, Logan felt something shift inside him. The fear, the uncertainty that had been gnawing at him for so long, began to fade. It didn’t disappear completely—he knew it never would—but it didn’t seem as overwhelming anymore. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had Laura. And that was enough.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he could hold on to this moment forever. You settled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in the scent of you—something that had become so familiar, so comforting.

And then he thought about Laura, about the future he’d once feared she’d face alone. But now… now he had hope. You were by his side, and together, you could give Laura the life she deserved. She’d have you to guide her, to be there when he was gone. And maybe, just maybe, she’d have a sibling to watch over her when both of you were long gone.

For the first time in a long time, Logan felt like he could finally accept what was happening to him. He was dying—there was no escaping that. But it didn’t feel like the end. It felt like… a beginning. A chance to live the life he’d never thought he’d have, with you by his side.

And when the time came, when the poison inside him finally took its toll, he knew he wouldn’t be alone. He’d have you, and he’d have Laura. And that was more than he’d ever hoped for.

So, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of your presence wash over him, and for the first time in his long, tumultuous life, Logan felt at peace.

Mars speaks… (again) Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

[mionemymind]

Chapter 2: Confessions for You

My Rival Series

Series Summary: The time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.

Chapter Summary: Y/n already is losing herself to her studies as competition looms closer and closer.

A/n: Gif credits to @elizabetholsens

Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing, Alcohol, Puking, Memory Loss? (ish)

Word Count: 5.1k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Last Month - Spring Semester

‘I fucking hate losing to her.’ Y/n’s fists were tightly clenched as she saw Wanda celebrate another perfect score. The glimmer in her eyes almost made Y/n’s vein burst from anger. The competition was in three weeks and the last day of school was in four weeks. 

It's been almost a month since she spoke to Dean Holloway about her scholarship. Since then, Y/n’s mental health has extremely deteriorated. The lack of sleep and the inability to eat was catching up to the bright student. 

She was making more mistakes in math club, simple ones that even the freshman could do with their eyes closed. Her confidence has gotten lower and lower the more she was unable to perfect her craft. 

And as Y/n stared at the ninety nine written on her test, all emotion was devoid from her. She was tired. Something that Wanda had noticed. The brunette had kept up on her usual appearances around Y/n. She taunted Y/n slightly over scores, grinned at every question she got right at math club, and overall proved to everyone why she was number one. 

But that wasn’t to say that the brunette didn’t notice all the changes happening to Y/n. If anything, Wanda was the first to notice all the changes. She noticed the appearance of deeper eyes bags, the short temper Y/n had over small mistakes, and even worse, the lack of focus Y/n had during lectures. 

There were other changes too like the way Y/n no longer engaged at all to Wanda’s banter. Instead, she would walk away, fists clenched, as if Y/n was holding herself back. Or the times that Wanda no longer spotted Y/n with her friends at all. It was like she was distancing herself from everyone she knew. 

While Wanda tried her best to look out for Y/n, all her kindness turned bitter when she thought of that meeting. 

Sitting across from each other, the two were finishing their project, looking over the final draft before submitting it. Wanda was looking over Y/n’s part of the essay when she came across a large paragraph that contained a lot of circular reasoning and hardly any sources. 

Wanda circled it and leaned forward to show Y/n. “Hey, you made a mist-,” Y/n snatched the paper, already rereading the paragraph at lightening speed. Her shoulders were tense as she squinted her eyes to read the paper better. 

“You didn’t explain your side well enough. I see what you’re trying to say but you end up using circular reasoning to back up your point rather the the sources we’ve gathered.” 

Feeling already embarrassed enough from math club, Y/n had enough. She got up, causing the chair to make a horrible screeching noise. Wanda grimaced at the sound as she noticed Y/n packing up. 

“Where are you-”

“Fuck off, Maximoff. I don’t need your input.” Wanda was caught off guard at Y/n’s hostility, but the smart girl had a sharp tongue and there was no way in hell she was going to allow Y/n to talk to her like that. 

“Clearly you do when you’re making basic mistakes like that.” Y/n scoffed as she stuffed her backup. 

“Always quick to call out someone’s mistakes. Would love for the day someone laughs at yours.” Wanda got up, her chair making the same awful sound. 

“Why are you being so rude? We are doing a peer review. What did you expect? That I let you mess up my grade.” Y/n rolled her eyes as she swung her backup over her shoulder. The zipper was barely over the arch, the swing almost causing her backup to open up. Y/n grabbed the remainder of her stuff and held it.

“You’re the last person I would ever call my peer. Do what you have to Maximoff but I’m fucking done here.” Y/n left without another word.

Wanda stood at her spot, offended at the fact that Y/n even snapped at her. What was worse, she genuinely felt hurt by Y/n’s tone. Y/n had never spoken to her like that, not in the three years they’ve known each other. 

So as she grabbed her stuff, her paper being last, Wanda didn’t notice the lack of marks on her paragraphs. All she noticed was the painful feeling in her heart left by Y/n.

“Okay everyone, let's please settle down so we can talk about the format for this upcoming state competition.” Up at the front of the lecture hall stood Y/n and Wanda. Naturally they stood a couple of feet apart as Wanda took the lead of the meeting. 

“This year we have the amazing honor of bringing in three teams to represent Evergreen University. Fortunately for us, Dean Holloway was able to get the approval to send in another team this year.” There were several claps coming from the students as Y/n somberly looked at the floor. 

‘He just wants to increase the odds of me losing.’ Y/n thought. Noticing that Y/n was not paying attention, Wanda shook her head and continued with the announcement. 

“As tradition has it, we will hold a bracket competition for those that would like to compete. Each team will have four slots to fill. Naturally as your co-captains for the club, we will only have 10 slots available for those that want to participate.” 

Wanda walked over to Y/n, giving her a slight pat on the back as she walked past her. “Your co-captain will list off how the competition will go.” 

Y/n cleared her throat, regaining her focus as she addressed the crowd. “In order to better assess senior and new member abilities, we will be holding a kahoot style competition as this will best mirror the real competition.”

Walking away from Wanda, “In order to avoid embarrassment of who did or did not get the answer correctly, we will be using the clickers that the University has provided our club. On the sign up sheet, I will write down your name beside the clicker number. The top ten members will receive a place for the competition. However, the members that place 11th through 13th will constitute as our substitutes in the case of anything happening to our members.” 

Y/n sat over to the desk of clickers, ready to write. “For those that are not wanting to participate but would like to see who has made it to our team, you are more than welcomed to stay as the questions on the screen will provide great practice. You may start lining up now for your clickers.” Wanda ended her speech with a gratuitous smile. 

A long line of students started to form as Y/n wrote each name down. Coincidentally enough, the first two clickers were reserved for Wanda and Y/n. Unbeknownst to Y/n, she wrote Wanda’s name at first and her name being second. Even her subconscious knew the truth. 

So as Wanda got the questions ready, Y/n sat at the table, away from everyone, hoping that her extreme hours spent studying were going to be worth it. Y/n looked at Wanda who sat with some of her friends in the club. There was still that stupid smile on her face. 

‘Eat dirt.’ Was all Y/n thought as the first question popped up on the screen. 

“Wait - you’re unable to pick me up when spring semester ends? Why?” Y/n sighed, still feeling the bitterness from math club as she sat under a tree that observed the Hodgekins Math building. 

“I’m sorry honey - your father and I are going to attend an important meeting for his company in Europe. Unfortunately, we were unable to reschedule it as your father’s clients were only able during that time to discuss the merge factors. I do hope you understand.” 

Y/n’s eyes teared up, feeling lower than ever before as she spotted Wanda finally leaving the building, the brunette’s words still in her mind. 

“How are you expected to lead when you can’t even get in the top ten?” Wanda whispered as she smiled at the students who made the team. “If you can’t even score top five, how can I trust you? Get your head back or I’m going to have to get someone else to fill your spot.” 

“Can you at least send Percy to help me out?” Y/n wiped her tears before they got a chance to fall. The weight of everything was crushing her down and it felt like no one even noticed. 

“Of course. He’ll be there to help you. How is school going by the way? Are you having fun? Your grades still okay?” Y/n leaned back on the tree, making sure no one was nearby. 

“It's been…okay. My state competition is less than a month away and I’ve been trying my best to study a lot for it.” Y/n bit her cheek, the feeling of losing gripped her heart. “But other than that, my grades are still good.” 

Y/n couldn’t see it, but her Mom was smiling on the other end of the phone. “Is that girl - what’s her name - oh yeah, Wanda, still there?” Y/n froze at the mention of the brunette, even worse, Wanda was oddly walking in her direction.

“Mom - I really don’t want to talk about her.” It’s like no matter what, Wanda somehow managed to pop up everywhere in her life. 

“Well, it has been a while since you’ve talked about her. I was starting to think she was no longer around.” Y/n knew when her Mom was acting oblivious and this happened to be one of those moments. 

“Mom-”

“You know if you can’t stand it just come back home. Your father is more than happy to help you get enrolled into-”

“Mom - I’m not going to Langford University. Dad can keep wishing but I will stay at Evergreen University.” The topic of Langford and her father was always a strain. While Y/n’s father was an alright man and honestly a great father, his vision for Y/n’s future never aligned for what his daughter wanted. 

Ever since she got accepted to Evergreen University, their relationship grew complicated. He even stopped calling after Thanksgiving break of her first semester in college. While Y/n did have a better relationship with her mother, it was still complicated nonetheless. 

“Look, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later Mom. Bye - love you.” Y/n hung up before her mother said anything back. The brunette that’s been in her mind stood right in front of her with a blank look on her face. 

“What do you want?” Wanda rolled her eyes at Y/n’s hostility. She hadn’t even said a word and she’s already managed to piss Y/n off. Had it been earlier in the year, Wanda would have enjoyed just how quick she could get under Y/n’s nerves. But now, Wanda couldn’t stand Y/n either. 

Taking a deep breath, Wanda calmed her anger and said, “Have you thought about what I said?” 

Standing up, Y/n wiped any possible dirt from her pants and glared at Wanda. “Don’t even think about replacing me. I’ll be at the competition and I’ll make sure that my group wins it all.” 

“You better be on your A-game at our next practice. If not, I’m pulling you.” Y/n’s jaw clenched at Wanda’s threat. Who was she to call the shots? They were co-captains after all. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me, Maximoff. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

‘I need to focus.’ It was a weeknight. As usual, Y/n was using this time to study for math club. Wanda had sent out a new packet for the competitors to use as practice for the real competition. 

For a majority of the questions, she had gotten ninety seven out of the hundred correct. But Y/n was on the brink of losing it all. She knew that any wrong answer would immediately lead to a Maximoff victory and that was the last thing she wanted. 

‘I need to be perfect.’ Erasing her calculations, Y/n redid it but still wasn’t able to match to the correct answer. Tightening the grip on her pencil, Y/n tried to not let this get to the best of her. But the constant sound of Natasha practicing her guitar started to aggravate her. 

In addition small music was already playing in the background, something Natasha was trying to play along with. So when Y/n redid her calculations once more and still got the wrong answer, she could feel her anger start to resurface. Still, she maintained her best composure and erased the wrong answer. \

Retrying for the third time, Y/n was close to reaching the correct answer when her pencil tip broke. ‘Just bad timing. That’s all. Get a new pencil and move on.’ She spoke internally. But the rational thoughts mixing with her anger were not a good combo. 

Was she hallucinating or was Natasha’s music suddenly getting louder? Ignoring it, Y/n grabbed a new pencil when the sound of a new email alerted her attention to her laptop. Going to Outlook, Y/n looked at the new email, its subject already signaling alarms in her head. 

Dean Holloway 

New Scholarship Requirements 

Feeling all sorts of anger and embarrassment, Y/n broke her pencil and slammed her computer shut. Standing up quickly, Y/n looked at Natasha, and without thinking, said, “Can you please cut that shit off?” 

Y/n was already fuming with anger, not caring if she pissed her best friend at all. At first, Natasha looked shocked at Y/n’s outburst, quickly turning the music off. But the realization of Y/n’s tone offended Natasha. 

“What’s up with you?” Natasha placed the guitar up against the wall. Y/n had never yelled at her like this before. 

“I need to study and I can’t when you’re distracting me.” Y/n waved towards the direction of the speakers and the guitar as if it was so obvious. 

“You could have asked nicely rather than being a dick about it.” Natasha did not like Y/n’s tone one bit. While they were best friends, Natasha did not take shit from anyone. 

“You could have been considerate of other people in the room rather than assuming.” Natasha scoffed knowing that this was not the first time she played music in front of Y/n. Heck, she always played music ever since freshman year of high school. Natasha could vividly recall the amount of times she asked Y/n in the beginning days of them dorming. Y/n would always respond with a smile, saying she never minded. So why would things change now? 

“Bullshit - tell me the real reason.” Natasha stood up and crossed her arms, not giving into Y/n’s lie. 

“I’ve had enough. Maybe that’s the reason.” Natasha rolled her eyes. She walked closer to Y/n, quickly lifting her shirt up to expose just how skinny she had gotten. 

“You’ve hardly been eating.” Feeling defensive, Y/n backed up, pushing her shirt back down. “You hardly sleep anymore. Not only that, I’ve barely been able to speak to you without you running away to study. Something is up. So tell me.” 

Y/n glanced down to the floor. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of a way to get out of this. Guilt consumed her as quickly as her anger did. And now, she doesn't know what to say. 

So when the red head saw her friend silently cry, her shoulders dropped and immediately went in for a hug. “Whatever is eating you up, just please tell me. I’ll make sure to help you through it so you don’t have to go through it alone.” 

‘If I’m not perfect…I’m going to lose you.’ But as Y/n clutched on to Natasha, no words escaped her mouth for the redhead had enough to worry about. 

Day Before Competition - Spring Semester

“I can’t believe you’re actually going to a party.” Y/n looked over the simple outfit she had on, blue jeans, loose white shirt, and converse. This was the first time she was going to a party, vividly recalling the multiple lies she’s used to get out of one in the past. 

“I don’t understand why this one is suddenly mandatory for club members to go to. We literally have a competition tomorrow.” Today was supposed to be spent for late night studying, but according to Wanda’s orders, this was a must for all twelve members. 

“Who cares? I know you’re going to do well.” Natasha says behind Y/n. The red head admired Y/n’s outfit before looking eyes with her through the mirror. “You’ve been studying your ass off. I just know tomorrow is going to be your day.” 

Y/n didn’t want to overthink Natasha's words. Ever since she outlashed that night, she refused to for her anger to get the best of her even though her circumstances weren’t so great. Offering Natasha a wide smile, Y/n said, “I’ll be only drinking one cup tonight but nothing else. I can’t be too drunk.”

“And I’m going to do the opposite, I will be getting drunk especially since finals are this upcoming week.” 

‘I want to leave.’ Hours into the party, the crowd grew more alive. More people were in the center dancing while many small groups formed around the frat house. The backyard was filled with people vaping or smoking. 

Y/n didn’t quite recognize all that attended the party. If she was being honest, people started to come even when they weren’t part of a club. There were a few outliers from chemistry and movie club, but other than that, the crowd was overwhelming. 

Sipping on the last few bits of her drink, Y/n watched Natasha with a small buzzing feeling. The red head was downing her fifth shot. A smirk was wide spread on her face as she wiped the small bits of tequila that were on the corner of her mouth. The crowd around her cheered as the next person got their shot ready.

Natasha walked to where Y/n was standing and stood beside her. Feeling touchy, she decided to lay her head on Y/n’s shoulder and observed the crowd. She knew a lot of the outliers from the many parties she’s been to. Plus, with how outgoing of a personality Natasha had, a lot of people gravitated towards her. 

But no matter how many people Natasha was friends with, Y/n was always her favorite. The two were opposites but that made the friendship even better. The red head always viewed Y/n as the black cat that never wanted to be petted. But the day she was finally allowed was one that Natasha always remembers. 

“Having fun?” Y/n could smell the alcohol from Natasha’s breath but didn’t mind. 

“A little bit. This drink is helping me not stress so much though.” Natasha smiled at Y/n’s confession. The two didn’t really have a long talk about her outburst many nights ago. And while Natasha always had her guesses, she remained at Y/n’s side, never wanting her best friend to feel alone. 

As for Y/n, vowed to keep her anger in check. While she did still feel irritated at times, she focused on not letting her anger consume her as much. Even with the given circumstances, it wasn’t fair to Natasha or any of her friends to get the short end of the stick. It wasn’t their fault for the way things were. 

“Ya know Nat, for this party to have mandatory attendance, I have not seen Wanda or any of the math club members anywhere.” Natasha looked around the crowd that was in the dance room and couldn’t spot the all too familiar brunette at all. 

“That’s weird. Did y’all agree for a meet up spot?” Y/n shook her head no. 

“I haven’t even gotten a text from Wanda. She’s usually on top of these things.” The two watched for a moment, letting the loud music fill the comfortable silence between them. Wanting to get another shot, Natasha almost left when she saw Wanda amongst the crowd. 

“Why does Wanda affect you so much?” Y/n almost hadn’t heard Natasha’s question, but when Y/n followed the direction of her gaze, she knew. 

“She doesn’t affect me.” Although it was a small buzz, the ability to lie knowing she had drunk a little was all the confidence Y/n needed. 

“Well you talk about her,” Natasha pointed out. “Plus, anytime she’s around, you end up bickering for a while. Sometimes you would go on rants talking about what she said to you during class.”

The blush that appeared on Y/n’s cheek was hard to spot in the dark setting. The brown eyed girl clutched on her red solo cup, feeling embarrassed that she was easily called out with compelling evidence. 

Looking back at Wanda, Y/n could feel her heart rate increase as she saw her talking to other people. There was this different aura surrounding her. Maybe it was the drink or maybe it was the fact that she seemed to really enjoy herself. Like academics wasn’t the only thing she excelled in. 

“Is she the reason you’re acting so differently lately?” Natasha lifted her head as she felt Y/n stiffen up. Feeling like she overstepped, the red head was about to spout an apology.

“Yeah,” Y/n continued to look at Wanda. Even though it was rude to blame the situation on her, it was easier to admit it than speak the truth. “It’s just..I hate Wanda Maximoff. I hate her face and the way she hides her freckles. I hate her smile and how perfect she laughs. I hate how smart she is and how she knows everything. I hate her.” Y/n complained. 

But how could she hate the girl that always took number one in everything? How could she hate the girl that captivated her mind 24/7? How could she hate the girl she would willingly be number two for?

And as Natasha looked back at Wanda then Y/n, a realization suddenly hit her. ‘You like her.’ But Natasha didn’t dare to confess this outloud but it was so obvious. ‘What else would eat her up this way?’ Natasha thought. 

On the other side of the party, Wanda could feel eyes on her. Looking around the room, she finally connected to the brown eyes she knew well. Unknowingly, the sight of Natasha being so close aggravated the brunette for some reason.

But all Wanda could focus on was how soft Y/n’s stare was. There was no jealousy or bitterness about them. And that captivated Wanda even more because this was the first time that Y/n had ever looked at Wanda that way. 

Suddenly, all the air shifted in the room, and Wanda couldn’t help but think, “Why does she hate me?” 

Natasha left after her tenth shot as her girlfriend dragged her away. Feeling no reason to stay any longer, Y/n made her way out the frat house when she bumped into Wanda. 

The red head was unable to stand up straight, almost falling if it weren’t for Y/n’s arms. “Hey - hey - are you okay?” 

Here was the gaze again, the same one Wanda felt half an hour ago. It was almost too much to handle the first time, leading Wanda to drink even more. It was stupid, nonetheless, Wanda was drunk and the very reason why was the same one holding her. 

Feeling too much, Wanda leaned away as she puked into the bush. Almost wanting to puke from the sight, Y/n held Wanda’s hair back as she patted her back. “There - there.” 

Y/n looked around and was thankful that no one was here to witness this scene. As much as she hated Wanda, Y/n didn’t want this image to be in people’s heads. 

Standing back up, Wanda teared up, hating the feeling of puking. 

“Hey - it’s gonna be okay.” Not knowing what compelled her to do this, Y/n used the bottom of her shirt to wipe Wanda’s mouth. She didn’t care if puke got on her. The idea of Wanda crying infront of her was worse than puke. 

“Let me take you back home. You can’t walk in these conditions.” Was Y/n thankful that Wanda had bumped into her? No…well at least that’s what she would say out loud. But as Y/n walked Wanda back to her dorm, the awful thought of Wanda unsafely walking by herself at night made her sick. 

Arriving to dorm 321, Y/n swiped the key card, opening the door to a cold room. Carefully leading Wanda to her bed, Y/n lifted the white duvet, allowing Wanda to crawl in. 

When Wanda looked comfortable, Y/n looked around the room, noticing the minifridge at the corner. Opening it up, Y/n grabbed a water bottle and placed it at Wanda’s nightstand. 

Although Y/n could leave, the sight of Wanda sleeping made her freeze. Many thoughts slipped through her mind, some that she would blame the alcohol on. But there was this worrying feeling in her heart as the thought of Wanda puking in her sleep crossed her mind. 

No one would be able to help her in time considering she didn’t have a roommate. Groaning at her predicament, Y/n looked around the room. There was no spare pillow or blanket. It would be a rough night and the competition was soon. Looking at the clock on her wall, the bus would be ready to leave at 8:00 am giving Y/n around six and half hours to sleep. 

Was it worth it to stay at all? Would Wanda be fine? But as Y/n helped Wanda turn on her side to sleep, the brown eyed girl knew her answer. 

“Wanda, I’m going to be on the floor. If you need anything, just let me know.” There was no response from Wanda. Figuring she could leave before Wanda woke up in the morning, Y/n laid down on the ground, feeling cold from the intense air conditioning.

‘I can’t sleep if I’m freezing to death.’ The thought of using the rug below her as a blanket crossed her mind. Before she could say fuck it, Wanda’s voice caught her attention.

“Why do you hate me?” Glancing towards the bed, Y/n couldn’t see Wanda’s face from her view at the floor. Laying back down, Y/n looked at the ceiling, surprised that Wanda was even up.

“What makes you think that?” It was rude to dampen a drunk girl, that much was common sense for Y/n. So rather than outwardly admit anything, she rediverted it back to Wanda. 

“I can’t recall a moment where you were kind to me.” Y/n froze as she thought about that moment back in the library, wondering if Wanda had her flannel in her dresser. “And I don’t think you’ve said a nice thing about me…so you must hate me.” 

Oh how wrong Wanda was. Because the truth of it all, Y/n never hated Wanda. She could never hate the girl that pushed her to do her best everyday. She could never hate the girl that would go above and beyond for people that need help. She could never hate the girl she lived and breathed for. 

“I have said nice things about you,” Y/n whispered. The two never spoke like this before and it terrified Y/n to even admit such things. “You just have to look inbetween the lines. You’re smart - so I guess I hoped you saw through them.” 

Wanda was too drunk to really recall anything. She wanted so badly to ask but was afraid of the truth. “Are you ready for the competition?” 

Looking back up, Wanda had scooted to the edge of the bed, her eyes connecting with Y/n. “I think so. Do you think you’ll win?” 

Pulling the duvet away from her mouth, Wanda looked away as she said, “If I don’t, I’ll just disappoint my father.” 

“You wouldn’t disappoint me.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. Had she not been drunk, the intensity of her words and stare would have made her combust. 

But as the long night finally reached Wanda, she suddenly fell asleep before she could respond back. “Nothing you could ever do would disappoint me, Wanda.”

Competition Day - Spring Semester

Waking up to the sound of her alarm, Wanda panicked at the time. Immediately rushing to brush her teeth and change her clothes, she rushed out of her dorm, almost forgetting the important papers for the competition. 

As she ran on to the bus, sparing ten minutes, she looked around to see that everyone besides two people were left. The migraine in her head was hard to ignore, regardless, Wanda was thankful that she made it on time. 

Soon, the remainder of the team hopped on board, choosing a free row for themselves. Since it was a four hour ride, Wanda didn’t bother lecturing the team this early about the competition. She could do that later. 

Finding a free row near the front, she sat down at the seat closest to the window. Cursing herself for even drinking so much, Wanda glanced over and noticed that Y/n was across from her. She had jeans and white shirt on with a weird stain at the bottom. 

Wanda almost wanted to yell at her for not being in uniform when she noticed that she was asleep. Feeling another headache, Wanda focused on trying to find medicine in her backpack, the events of last night gone from her memory. 

Taking an ibuprofen, Wanda pulled out her notes and studied some problems. And although she didn’t remember, the girl across from her did as she finally got some sleep, having been up all night making sure that Wanda was safe and sound. 

Chapter 3

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[venusphoriia]

— Lovesick Denial

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Clarisse La Rue x Reader

─ Jealousy and bitter denial, not really a good combo, is it?

cw ཿ⠀ violence (nothing bad, promise ♡︎), nicknames (clarisse calls you princess, but no pronouns are used), jealousy, denial, high key toxic! clarisse, partially proofread. 2.5k words.

ପ a/n ; requested! lowkey hating this layout right now, but can’t come up with anything better at the moment </3 This took longer to post than I wanted to because I’ve been so busy. Lowkey lost motivation near the end. I hope you enjoy anyway, I might make a part 2.

Irritated. It was the first word that came to mind with how you felt when it came to capture the flag. You gripped your weapon tightly as you roamed the forest, jumping at the slightest sound. You grumbled curses under your breath, you were alone and seriously disadvantaged. You were annoyed, but most of all stressed. Normally, you would have wandered off—finding a decent hiding place until the unsavory game reached its conclusion, but unfortunately for you—Annabeth didn’t really give you the chance this time.

You sigh softly to yourself, tired of aimlessly walking through the forest. You lean against a nearby tree, hoping to rest a bit to replenish some of your energy. Your weapon was held loosely in your hand as you naively let your guard down. It was quiet, perhaps too quiet. The birds’ endless chatter was oddly soundless as the only thing that could be heard was the wind brushing through the tree’s leaves and… footsteps?

A spear pierces the tree’s trunk harshly, narrowly missing you. You jump, your body tensing as you stumble back a bit. You raise your weapon in defense, looking at the spear lodged into the tree before easily recognizing its craftsmanship. Your fingertips brush along your cheek, the small look of disbelief is quickly replaced with irritation as you see the fresh blood. You shoot her a small glare as she slowly approaches you with a smug look on her face.

“You know, it’s pretty dumb to be trying to take a nap out here, princess,” Clarisse mocks with a teasing tone of voice as she stops just a few feet away from you. The amused look on her face only grows once she notices you grow more irritated by her presence. She pulls back her spear, examining its sharp blade before looking back at you with a rather threatening smile.

You lower your weapon, your brows still furrowed slightly in annoyance. If there was anything you hated more than capture the flag—it was Clarisse, the notorious favored daughter of Ares. You’ve only had a few encounters, all of which you consider a displeasure, but if there was one thing you were known for, if not your antisocial personality, it was your smart mouth.

“Aww, I didn’t pick you as the type to care about my wellbeing,” You mock her tone, a clearly irritated smile resting on your lips as you made it clear you were in no mood for her teasing antics.

Clarisse scoffs, scowling softly as if almost genuinely offended by your words. If she was being honest with herself, she was. But, of course, the stubborn daughter of Ares would never admit to it, “I don’t.”

“Then why say something?” You retort, your tolerance really hitting its breaking point. The heat was starting to get to you more than you thought.

“Because,” Clarisse takes a step closer towards you, a small spark erupting from her spear. Her gaze is cold, calculating like a predator watching its prey. It irritated you, but also made every hair on your body stand on edge.

You subconsciously take a step back, trying to maintain some distance. Clarisse smirks at this before abruptly attacking you. It was a single strike, but its weight was as heavy as her pride. You barely managed to block on time, staggering back as you were completely caught off guard.

Clarisse smiles tauntingly as she continues her slow approach. She’s toying with you. You hold up your weapon, ready to parry her next attack. Your guard is up, but so is your anxiety. Clarisse was never known to go easy—especially in a game like this.

But something felt off about this interaction.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Nothing about Clarisse’s actions made sense to you. She had a game to win, a flag to capture. Yet, she was wasting valuable time to toy with you. Not only that, but she was alone—usually she’d have at least one or two of her siblings with her. This didn’t seem like some regular bullying stunt—no, this felt personal.

“What’s with the confused look, princess?” Clarisse teases, that taunting smile never leaving her lips. She attacks you again, this time more viciously like she’s aiming to hurt you.

You narrowly block the attack, but not completely avoiding the damage. A small cut is left on your upper arm, you click your tongue in annoyance as you glance down at the new wound. You glare up at her, irritated.

“What’s the point of this?” You asked before finally delivering an attack of your own. It’s not as harsh or vicious as Clarisse’s, but the attack has enough weight to it, making it obvious you’re no longer taking this confrontation carelessly.

“Does there have to be a point to this?” Clarisse chuckles, easily blocking the attack. You don’t miss the way she subtly avoids the question, but she doesn’t give you much time to think about it much. She returns the strike, much more vicious than the last two.

This isn’t the first time you had to defend yourself against Clarisse. You’ve witnessed and experienced Clarisse’s fighting style first hand. Despite her hotheaded temper, she fought with pride, but most of all with reason—in her own right, of course. Her attacks are always cold and calculating, strike with purpose and aim to prove something.

So, why did her attacks feel so different? With each strike you blocked—or avoided—the next one felt more angrier and vicious than the previous. Like she was actively trying to kill you, but not at the same time. This felt like more than just some bullying stunt to you, it felt like she was desperately acting in defiance to something. Something close to a personal struggle, perhaps?

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. The fight was already lost.

You wince as your weapon broke, your own blade turning against you, cutting your skin. Clarisse wastes no time, electricity cracks from her spear as she follows up with her next attack. She hits you in the abdomen, sending you flying a couple feet away.

The wind is knocked out of you as you roughly hit the ground. You cough harshly, quickly trying to pull yourself to your feet. You mumble a few curses under your breath, your muscles sore and your legs weak. When you struggle to stand, you allow yourself to collapse completely to the ground.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up now,” Clarisse seems amused, the mocking tone of her voice sounding more like nails on a chalkboard as she lowers her spear. You feel a small headache beginning to form, whether it was from irritation or your harsh landing didn’t really matter to you.

You don’t even have the energy to retort, rolling over on your back tiredly. Fatigue hit you like a truck, and the pain was certainly no help. Your lack of response makes Clarisse worry a little. She holds her spear loosely in her hand, as she glares at you softly.

She opens her mouth to speak, but stops as you hold up your finger in response. She scowls slightly in irritation, but says nothing as she gives you a moment to gather yourself.

“You avoided my question,” You say, a little breathlessly. Your tone was rather blunt as if stating a fact.

Clarisse scoffs, looking away for a moment before responding, “I did not.”

“You did,” Your response is quick as you look over at Clarisse, nonchalantly.

She simply rolls her eyes before quickly changing the subject, “Are you going to continue laying there all day or—”

“You know that doesn’t sound like a bad idea…” You mumble, genuinely taking it into consideration. Your whole body ached and you weren’t really in the mood to get up just yet. Especially considering how you know you’ll be hearing an earful from Annabeth for disappearing so quickly into the game.

Clarisse chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief at your nonchalant attitude. A blaring horn breaks through the small silence and the sound of cheers follows—which is no doubt the blue team’s victory. A third win in a row.

Clarisse's grip tightens around her spear as she looks out into the distance in annoyance. You look at her for a moment before rolling your eyes, deciding to hold your tongue. You’ve already taken more of a beating than you liked.

You sit up, groaning at the dull ache of your muscles. Clarisse looks back at you, watching as you struggle a bit to stand, “Need some help?”

You pause, giving her a look of bewilderment as it took you a moment to realize she was being genuinely in her request. Never, in all your years of being at Camp Halfbood, did you ever hear Clarisse genuinely offer her help to anyone, “You serious?”

It was a genuine question, but your skepticism only irritated Clarisse, making her scoff before placing her spear away. She doesn’t even bother to retort with a harsh insult before walking towards you. She kneels down with her back turned towards you and you realize she’s actually being serious. You looked over her shoulder, your confused daze being met with a small irritated scowl. Too nervous to decline, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around her shoulders as her hands gently gripped your thighs. She carefully stands up, making sure you are steady and comfortable on her back before adjusting you a bit.

Your grip around her tightens a bit, holding her rather close, a little fearful that she may drop you. She oddly doesn’t comment on it, which leaves you with more questions with still zero answers. You truly had no idea what was happening. With every minute, Clarisse surprised you more and more. You wanted to protest, question—anything really—but was left rather speechless as she carried you all the way to the infirmary.

You felt the eyes of your fellow campers, by the looks on their faces they shared the same thoughts of disbelief as you do. Their curious stares and gossiping whispers don’t last long with Clarisse’s silent glare. With deathly shivers being sent down their spine, they quickly go back to minding their business, saving the gossip for later.

You, on the other hand, can only hide your face in embarrassment. The unwanted attention made you want to crawl into a hole, and you knew your friends would have a world of questions of their own. You just hope the attention won’t last long.

────

It did. Although their gossip quieted over time, their curious stares—borderline judgmental—continued to linger behind you. Everywhere you went, no matter how hard you tried to blend into the background—you could always feel at least one pair of eyes watching you. They picked and pried you apart, curious to know how you—a rather dull, outcast—caught the attention of the violent, prideful daughter of Ares.

You were an outsider, never cared for pride or glory. Alway in the background, taking great care to never stand out in a crowd. You were never a loner, but you weren’t exactly ‘known’ either. Average at best was the best way to describe you, but you never seemed to mind. In fact, you enjoyed it.

The life of a demigod was something you never enjoyed nor asked for. A quiet, content life was more of a goal of yours than anything else—anyone with two eyes and a brain could see that.

So, how? Why? What did Clarisse see in you?

Those seemed to be the most common questions when it came to you these days—unspoken, of course. Due to Clarisse’s temper, no doubt. Her anger and aggression has been at an all time high. Losing weeks of desserts due to recent outbursts was definitely not helping.

You took extra care to avoid her, and in turn, she did the same. Though, that only irritated her more. She was frustrated and confused. She had an idea of why she felt the way she did, but she was far too stubborn and prideful to acknowledge it. She wanted to ignore it, to smother the feeling until it withered into ash.

Of course, you were no better either. The same thought peeked into your mind, but you were quick to dismiss it. The simple thought—jokingly or not—of Clarisse even possibly thinking of you at all seemed impossible to even consider. Your friends were no help either, talking your head off with their own suspicions and delusions (as you put it).

So, when someone approached you, a camper known for his boldness and idiocy, it was hard to miss the way your blood went cold. A vicious sense of danger washed over you, your sense heightened. You could barely focus on the words he was saying to you as your eyes subtly scanned your surroundings.

You didn’t have to look for long, your eyes met her cold glare and your whole body went frigid. You knew that look well, you’ve seen it before, but never did you think you would see it directed towards you. It was a sort of jealousy, but felt so much deeper—almost a yearning.

“Hey? You listening?” His voice broke you from your trace, you realized you held Clarisse’s gaze for a few seconds too long. You look back at him with a forced, polite smile before nodding.

You hummed softly in acknowledgment as you tried to ignore the way Clarisse’s knuckles seemed to turn white as her glare hardened out of the corner of your eye. The poor boy didn’t seem to notice the look of worry on your face, too blinded by his own ego. He took your smile and desperate maintenance of eye contact as a sign of interest, which only fueled his rambling. Too bad you weren’t really listening to any of it.

Clarisse watched from afar, her gaze never drifting from you—her siblings are quick to notice her anger, but aren’t quite bold enough to say anything about. One, however, smiles mischievously as she follows Clarisse’s line of sight. She sees an opportunity to cause some form of entertainment, a plan that will also help Clarisse relieve some of her anger.

She smirks as she whispers into Clarisse’s ear, her tense form relaxing as a small, bone-chilling smile makes its way onto her lips. She looks away for a moment, considering the plan for a moment before nodding. A small chuckle leaves her sibling’s lips before she leaves, quick to put the plan into motion.

Clarisse looks back at you and you make eye contact once again. Only this time, the smile on her face fills you with a small sense of dread. You’ve known Clarisse long enough to recognize the cruel look in her eyes. She’s planning something. Something that would ensure at least one person is ending up with a broken bone.

You knew you would be an idiot if you continued to deny it any longer, and Clarisse slowly became aware of the same. A quiet realization, one that neither of you will acknowledge just yet, but one you’re both aware of no less.

She likes you, way more than she would like. And you had no idea how you were going to handle it.

© venusphoriia 2024 — do not copy or repost any of my works on any other platform, please and thank you !! ( ˘ ³˘)♡

[night-raven-tattler]

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

Characters: Octavinelle dorm (Azul, Jade, Floyd) × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

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Azul's ideal type would be...

Someone witty. Azul is a smart guy who likes being entertained. While his way of achieving that is less... for lack of better words, aggressive than the tweels', he enjoys a good mental game. If you can carry a good conversation with him, he'll remember you.

Someone who doesn't pressure him into making decisions. He is someone whose independence is very important to him. On top of that, his signature spell literally revolves around choice as a concept, so he understand the importance of it. Someone as stubborn as Azul will keep his distance if anyone tries to influence his free will.

Someone who appreciates music. He's a pianist and a good singer, which are skills that require a lot of practice and hard work, something Azul is known for. He will appreciate any genuine praise, but if you ask him to teach you more about music or, Sevens forbid, you want to duet with him, all of his three hearts are yours.

Someone who doesn't mock him, not even when teasing him. If you really know Azul, you know how bitter he is towards the people who have brought suffering onto him. The words they said are ingrained into his brain, controlling his choices for years after they were spoken to him. I'm not saying to constantly uplift him, but bringing up old wounds will only push Azul away with low chances of getting any closer again.

『••✎••』

Jade's ideal type would be...

Someone whose next move he can't accurately predict. It's kind of easy to catch the attention of any of the tweels, but it's also easy to lose it. The key to keeping Jade's eyes on you is to make him believe he's had you all figured out, then do something unexpected. Being a little unpredictable, even when you think you're outside of Jade's vision, will pique his curiosity.

Someone who plays along his little tricks and schemes. Jade is not an honest person: he always has some ulterior motive, hidden behind carefully worded questions and statements that he uses to poke and prod for information. If you try to help him and his twisted game of detective, he will certainly find you amusing, if not helpful.

Someone who goes exploring with him. Just like his brother, Jade has a fascination for the land above water, and he loves learning things about the fauna and flora. Someone who understands his appreciation for nature and genuinely embraces his curiosity will have a bit more of his appreciation.

Someone who doesn't try to understand him. Jade is very careful not to reveal too much about himself. Being awfully private with himself, he won't open up to just anyone. So he will appreciate someone who doesn't try to pry into his business too much. At the end of the day, Jade can be many things: a bartender, a vice housewarden, an informant, but he'd like to be seen as "just Jade" sometimes.

『••✎••』

Floyd's ideal type would be...

Someone who isn't intimidated by him. It's a surefire way to catch his attention. Even if you just pretend to not be intimidated by him, he'll stick around and try to push all of your buttons, test your limits, squeeze all that he finds interesting out of you.

Someone willing to teach him more about land folks. Everyone knows that Floyd has quite the interest about land folks and their customs. He wants to know more, so don't be afraid to throw random land people things towards him every once in a while. If it's something he didn't know about, he'll tell you to prove it. Congrats, he won't leave your side for a couple of hours.

Someone who doesn't compare him to Jade. Since he's the more polite and responsible one, Floyd gets compared to his brother pretty often, and some people even assume he's the younger twin. It is exhausting to have his other half be given as example on how to behave time and time again. If you reassure him he doesn't have to be like his twin, that being Floyd is just fine, it'll pull at his heartstrings.

Someone who takes his mood swings in stride. From people thinking he is a threat to people who just find him annoying and hard to work with, no one really takes Floyd's mood swings seriously. That doesn't mean he'll open up if you asked him "are you okay" and "what happened". Still, it would be the first time someone outside of his family reacted like that to him. It will baffle him, in a good way.

[woewriting]

amae (ii)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: cairo's actions continue to frustrate you, but when unspoken words are finally said out loud, you understand her. word count: 4619 warnings: mdni, +18 only! jumpscare: mr. miller, sexual tension, a bit of angst, jealous cairo, small reader x winnie situation, scisorring, face riding (reader receiving), language, smut in general, brief softness.

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Apparently, college parties were a bit different in Tennessee, which was a sweet surprise to you. Different from the ones you were used to back in your hometown, this one was hosted at the English professor’s house  — you noticed as soon as you opened the front door, a picture of him with his wife near the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows when you bumped into your professor, an apologetic smile on his face.

“I didn't see you there, I'm sorry.” He touched your arm in a weak squeeze before placing his hand back in his pocket, the other holding a red mug.

“It's okay, Mr. Miller. I didn't know you would be here.” 

“I always host this reading before the actual party. My wife and I will go on a weekend trip and Winnie asked if she could host a ‘small’ gathering; apparently, the house they usually go to for the party is unavailable. Beatrice left after noon. Smart decision of hers.” You laughed at his expression, knowing damn well it would be anything but small. You could tell by the faces around you that you never saw in any of his classes or readings before. They didn’t exactly fit the ‘tortured-poet’ profile “Are you joining us for the reading? It started a few minutes ago, I just came to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Cairo should start at any moment.”

At the mention of her name, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth and you took a deep breath. 

A week had passed since the girl sat on your lap, kissed you, allowed you to touch her and then started acting as if nothing happened. During classes, you could feel her eyes on you, that uncomfortable feeling of being watched taking over your senses every five minutes, as if she was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her.

But you didn't. You avoided her like the plague. As soon as the class ended, you gathered your materials, plugged in your earphones and left without looking back. 

Winnie complained a few times about your sudden avoidance of her and Cairo, asking non stop what had happened, if she did something that got you upset, but all you could do was apologize and say you had a lot on your mind with finals and assignments with a short deadline. It wasn't a full lie, but the girl could see the change in your expressions.

And now, all that hard work to avoid the brunette would go downhill as she was waiting a couple steps away from where you were standing, waiting for Mr. Miller's returnal so she could read what she had prepared for tonight.

“Cairo and I aren't in the best place right now, if I'm being honest. I didn't know she would be here.” 

“Oh…” The man scratched his chin. “I didn't know that, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate in asking. I know Cairo, she can be… stubborn.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks at the statement. During your first days in Mr. Miller's class, Winnie kept you updated on the strange relationship Cairo had with your now professor; on how starstruck the young writer was at being close to someone she admires and looks up to. It was uncomfortable seeing how close he would be to her, making your stomach twist inside you with anxiety, yet there was nothing you could do as she seemed happy to be noticed by him. 

When you asked about this whole situation to Cairo, trying to disguise your reactions, she told you: “he is someone I admire and I know he can help me with my writing. I look forward to our meetings as I have his attention all to myself.” You gave her a small smile that nearly made your eyes shake. Just like now.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips together. 

“We'll be fine.” You decided to answer, not truly believing in that. “But I appreciate the offering, Mr. Miller.”

“Anytime.” 

“Does your wife know that soon her house will have drunk people stumbling against the walls?” You asked in an attempt to ease the sudden awkward silence.

“God, no.” He laughed.

“I’ll try to keep the glass decoration in one piece.” Once again his hand rested on your arm for a few seconds in a silent ‘thank you’ before he checked the silvery watch on his wrist. 

“The reading is almost finished. Walk with me?”

Unable to deny the request, you simply nodded, walking in front of the professor as he motioned to you. 

The second you arrived in the living room, your eyes landed on her like a magnet. It might be because she was standing in the improvised stage by the window, or because of the deadly stare she locked on you when you walked in with Mr. Miller by your side. If she had a laser in her eyes, you'd be a sieve by now with thick blood covering the dark wood floor. 

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to the corner. Winnie smiled at you, saying she saved you a seat by her side on the couch even though she wasn’t sure you'd be here for the reading. The childish side of yours screamed for you to answer her with: “if I knew she would be here, I wouldn't have come” in a very annoying voice, but you only smiled at her, squirming in the leather couch. 

The room was in complete silence, waiting for the girl staring at you to start her reading. Cairo took a deep breath, licking her dry lips to start. The sun was starting to descend on the window behind her, transforming that whole scene into a beautiful portrait that your mind would keep for as long as you could remember.

“And as I witness her most intense intentions through dark eyes, with hands marking mine own peachy skin in a bruising grasp, I fall asunder above her. My body; weak, begging, pleading for her merciless touch as I watch her slam the door shut. The smell of something burning fills the walls, yet it's not the smoke that leaves my lungs, it's the fog that fills as I turn, fated to fall and fated to fail, and wish for her gaze, my resolute resistance scrawled in sand, tumbling through her open hands just as through the neck of our hourglass.

From the high, the grayness takes form; thick, lascivious, dangerous. The unsureness of faith buries words that one day I aim to say. Miserable thing, watching with tearful eyes as she leaves. The tree branches knock on the window, witnessing the whole pitiful scene engraved in my memory.”

You paid attention to every word she enunciated with a strong, determined voice, it felt like she was trying to open your skull and carve each one onto your brain matter. You felt dizzy at them, heart beating fast against your ribcage. While everyone applauded the young writer, you clenched your jaw, swallowing nothing that would help your sudden dry mouth. 

Cairo smiled, the type of smile that would make anyone drop to their knees and pray for her. Winnie was excited by your side, the subtle scent of alcohol you smelled on her made you laugh. The girl was loud and, at the moment, when all eyes turned to you two, you regretted sitting by her side. From across the living room, your eyes met hers again, now sat beside Mr. Miller while he whispered something in her ear to which she smiled wide, turning to him. 

As another student took over the stage, you couldn’t absorb any words that were said, disappearing into thin air. All you could focus on was Cairo’s hand occasionally touching his forearm when she leaned to say something in his ear, earning a quiet laugh from the professor, the urge to stand up and drag her away from that bothering situation, instead you walked to the kitchen in hopes to find a single drop of alcohol that would make that tension vanish from your body. Soon, Winnie joined you. 

“This is so boring, my God!” She whined, sitting up on the kitchen island while eyeing you up and down in the bright light for the first time. “You’re  overdressed as usual, I see.”

“Your underwear as usual, I see.” Winnie spread her legs as long as the short leather skirt allowed her to, giving you the high quality view of a lacy underwear as she takes the vodka bottle from your hands, taking a long sip, feeling the burning spreading over her chest with a satisfied hum.

“You like?”

You let out a huff, looking away. “You wish.”

“I will kiss you one day.” She said more to herself than to you, like a secret promise that escaped due to the lack of inhibition — not that she had any, even in her sober moments that word didn't exist in her vocabulary.

Shaking your head at her statement, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater, taking the half empty bottle from her hands and getting ready to prepare yourself a drink that didn’t taste like a slow death. 

The reading kept on until the sun was completely set in the horizon, turning the living room into a dark scenario, lit only by the yellowish color from the table lamps. Slowly, the students started leaving while others arrived, walking in the house with bottles and bottles of alcohol, storing them in the kitchen’s fridge.

While you paid attention to the cup in your hands, wondering how long it would take for you to detach from the reality that was drowning you, you felt a bump on your shoulder.

“What is it?” 

Winnie signalized with her head, making you look over your shoulder, witnessing Cairo and Mr. Miller talking near the stairwell that would lead to the second floor of the house. 

“I think he wants to take her upstairs.”

“She can do whatever she wants, Winnie.” You mumbled, trying not to squeeze the cup in your hand when taking a sip. The bitterness making you frown. “Cairo is a big girl.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“What do you mean?” Turning back to her, your eyebrows sewn together in confusion.

“Because she won’t stop looking at us.” You shrugged, finishing your drink in one long sip. You felt your stomach complain at the big wave of alcohol. 

“She can disappear with him for all I care.”

Winnie tilted her head, still looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so I shouldn’t say they’re going upstairs and she seems pretty excited about it?”

“Yup, not a single thought about it is on my mind right now.” Grabbing the bottle again from her hands, less subtle and emptier than the first time, you poured yourself a very generous sip on your cup, drowsy smiling to Winnie when you handed over the, now completely empty, bottle. 

As the minutes went by and the alcohol went in, your control over your senses were slowly losing its grip and you started to worry about Cairo against your will. Controlling the impulse to run upstairs as you weren’t drunk enough to blame on the booze, you shook your head, leaning your body against Winnie’s while the girl talked excitedly to a random boy from the football team, your mind too caught up analyzing the things the young writer said earlier to pay attention to any conversation around you. 

The music wasn't loud enough as the professor still hadn't left, but you could feel every beat of it synchronized with the beat of your heart. 

Your fingers found the skin of Winnie's thigh, starting to draw random lines out of boredom. Other than the girl, and Cairo, you weren't familiar with the faces that kept on surging from the front door every five minutes.

“If you keep doing that, I'll drag you upstairs too.” Black whispered, making you tilt your chin up at her.

“Maybe you should.” 

Winnie was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. From the hazel eyes to the plump lips that looked so attractive at that moment, getting closer and closer, making a tingling feeling crawl over your legs like a spider. You wanted to kiss her, and you would have, if it weren't for the footsteps coming from behind you, making Black pull away. You knew it was Mr. Miller, the strong perfume making your nose burn. 

The older man stood in front of you, looking at Winnie who was still seated on the marble island, an innocent glow in her eyes that almost made you laugh, but a hand wrapping around your wrist pulled you away from that situation. All you could hear as you were being dragged to the — now empty — living room was Mr. Miller asking the girl to behave and to not destroy his house or he would fail her. You laughed to yourself.

“Did you seriously allowed Mr. Miller to take me upstairs?” Cairo asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater like a spoiled kid when you refused to look at her, waving at the professor when he turned around to leave, leaving the house and a bunch of teenagers and new-adults unsupervised.

Your eyes were dark and your body a little soft when you stared at her, yet you still were in control of your actions, the drinks just diminished the worry of doing or saying something wrong. At that point, you didn't care about what left your mouth. You wanted to curse the young writer.

“He's our English teacher, not a serial killer.”

“He could've forced me to do something!”

“You seemed pretty excited to go with him. Now, excuse me, I'm gonna find Winnie so we can finish what we were about to start.” Before you could walk past a furious Cairo, her hand, once again, glued to your chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You blew me off, Cairo. What did you expect? That I would run after you and beg for your attention?"

"Yes!"

You let out a breathy sigh, the corner of your lips up in disbelief. "You really are so self-centered, you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You're a fucking bitch!"

"And you're dying to fuck this self-centered bitch."

"Not after Mr. Miller, thank you." You scolf sarcastically.

"He didn't fuck me, you idiot.” The hand in your chest grabbed the fabric of your sweater, pulling you down to her so she could whisper with lips nearly pressing on yours. “He wasn't you." 

Her eyes softened as well as the fist that held you in place, moving it to the back of your head. 

Staring at her eyes, you didn't know what to find. You didn't even know what you wanted to find. Maybe a sincere answer.

“Cairo…” You started, sighing against her lips, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather cohesive words to form a sentence. You blamed the alcohol for this pathetic lack of senses. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to care. I want you to show how desperate you are to have me, how you crave my body in your hands.” You swallowed hard, carefully listening to the whispery confession, the soft motion of her lips grabbing your attention. Once again, you wanted to steal that small freckle from her upper lip. “I want you to burn my skin with your fingers and bruise me with your mouth. And if you really wanted me to be yours, you would've turned around, thrown me on that fucking bed and taken me.” The strong pronunciation of that last part got your body heating up, the urge in your chest spreading in your veins and mixing with the existing alcohol. 

“You’re not very clear in your intentions, Cairo. You’re good at saying everything and nothing.”

Taking your hand, the writer pressed it against her chest. She took a deep breath, goosebumps covering her body at the warm feeling of having your hand touching her again.

“Can you feel that?” You nodded, letting your forehead gently fall against hers. “Do you understand now or do I have to draw it for you?”

Suddenly, your brain became fogged and you were getting lost again. You saw dark brown eyes. You felt a strong bumping in your hands. You smelled woody cologne and cinnamon. Yet, you didn't know where to go. 

“I want you to draw for me.” You said, desperately trying to find the right path.

Cairo nodded her head, pulling you with her once again, but this time, with her fingers intertwined on yours and more gentle than the first time. You trailed behind, careful to not trip on the stairs as she led the both of you somewhere you didn't know, the lights were off on the second floor, making impossible for you to see anything that wasn't right in front of you.

You heard the sound of a door opening and being locked once closed. The moonlight was invading the room through the open curtains. Blinking a few times to adjust the blurred vision, you felt your body being pushed against a soft mattress and a lightweight on top of you.

“I'll draw it for you.” Cairo whispered, pressing her lips on yours in a chaste kiss. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?” She asked while kissing down your neck, your hands squeezing her waist over the cotton fabric. You shook your head, licking your dry lips, still tasting her lip balm on them. “Here, let me show it to you.” 

Cairo sat on your hips, guiding one of your hands under the white dress, in between her legs. Flashbacks returned and your heart stopped beating for a second while she moved herself on your fingertips, eyes locked on yours, a smirk surging in the darkness. When you moaned at the warmth that embraced your fingers, she did the same.

You breathed out the air that was stuck in your lungs, affected by the scene that unwrapped in front of your eyes. It was a erotic, alluring view, slowly burning itself into your brain like a polaroid. A flash of smile drew on Cairo’s face, satisfied with the reactions coming from you, with the way your eyes stared at her with a dark, flame of desire, lips parted as you struggled to breath.

The cold touch of her rings sent shivers down your spine when her hand wrapped itself around your neck, pressing the sides of it, feeling the pulsating vein under her fingertips. A sob escaping her throat when your fingers easily slipped into her, burying themselves in the warmth of her velvety walls, clenching around you, while the heel of your hand pressed against her swollen clit.

A vile glow shining in the dark brown eyes when she leaned down, squeezing the sides of neck harder as she felt the knot inside her getting tighter. That feeling of desperation growing impatient in her chest.

“Have I lost myself, or have I gained you?” You asked in a soft voice, following a steady pace with your fingers as she moved herself on you. Even when you were the one carrying her in your hands, it was hers that controlled the air in your lungs. 

You’ve always seen Cairo as a spoiled girl that grew up in a big house, having all her wishes wrapped in a pretty paper waiting for her on her bed when she came home from school. But now, as she falls apart in your hands, saying your name like a sacred mantra, you saw beyond words and actions, you saw the urge to be held and cared for, like a little girl that didn’t get a hug after they wake up.  

Staring at her in awe, you felt tears coming to the brim of your eyes, the squeeze cutting every small space for the air to bring you life, but you didn't care, not when you saw the vision of what heaven must be like; the curly brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the soft strands tickling the skin of your neck as she fell over you, hiding on your chest.

Coming down from her high, Cairo carried a sly smile when she looked at you. Her kiss tasted like ashes, bitter, against your tongue. 

“You taste sweet.” The writer whispered in between kisses, sucking your tongue into her mouth over and over, sighing in pleasure at the fingers that slid off of her. Carefully bringing your coated fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, being watched with full blown eyes every movement of yours.

“And you taste divine.” 

It only took a millisecond for her lips to meet yours once again, the softness of the act long forgotten as she bit your lower lip, tasting the iron in her tongue with a sadistic smile at the painful cry you let out, squeezing her ass in your hands; burning the peachy skin with your fingertips. The words of her writing echoing inside your brain, spreading it on your blood flow. 

“I like this sweater, you look charming in dark blue.” Her hand found the collar of it, tip of her fingers tracing the skin underneath, making the fabric itch around your neck. “Take it off.” Despite the sweet tone in her voice, you obeyed the breathy order, pulling it over your head and tossing it somewhere in the unknown bedroom. Cairo stood up, removing the brown leather boots and her own dress, the white lacey set that remained on her body making you gulp. 

The writer stood in between your legs, her hands on your hair while yours held her by her waist, goosebumps all over her body as you kissed the toned abs, softly biting the skin.

Cairo looked down at you with curious eyes, the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, admiring the small galaxies your mouth left all over her like she was an empty canvas that needed some color. And you were doing the perfect job, painting an universe on her skin as you knelt down, bringing her underwear along with it. The writer kicked the useless cloth, putting her leg over your shoulder and hooking it behind your head; you salivated at the view of her cunt glistening in front of you. 

One of her hands caressed your face with gentleness, her thumb sliding over your bottom lip before she made you open your mouth, pushing her hips closer to your lips. She was dripping on your tongue, the taste of her filling your mouth as you hummed in pleasure, licking what escaped your agape mouth. 

The big brown eyes stared at you in flames, burning your skin into a bright scarlet crimson. You nudge your nose closer to her, inhaling the intoxicating smell; everything about Cairo was sweet, from her last name, to her voice that could recite the most beautiful poem by core, to the honey flavor slick that dripped from her aching hole, running down her thighs at the view of you ready to worship her, and when your tongue slid in between her folds in a long, slow lick, her head fell back and a shiver went down her spine. 

Pressing your tongue flat over her hardened nub, you closed your eyes, the grip on your hair pulling you impossibly closer. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, drawing random patterns with precision on the sensitive nerve, earning yourself a praise that came with a smile when she looked down on you. 

Moving your hands up her thigh, you squeezed the muscle, making her ride on your tongue, aggressively and delicious. The sounds escaping your open mouth reverberated all over her sensitive flesh. 

Cairo was an exhibitionist, she adored having eyes on her all the time, paying attention to every admirable detail that was attached to her. And having you on your knees praying against her cunt was filthy, enticing and agonizing, that heat wave scorching her insides and melting on your tongue, and you made sure to swallow it with a gratifying smile.

You could suffocate in between her legs and it would be a heavenly death. 

Kissing your way up, you brought her body closer, circling her waist as she hooked both legs around you, sliding her tongue over your shiny lips before you dropped her on the bed. Cairo was about to complain at the lack of care, but she soon shut her mouth, watching you kick your converse to the side and unbuttoning the tailored pants that hugged your curves in the right places.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the fabric down, taking your underwear with you, the shyness taking over you once you were free from any cloth covering your body; all this being watched with lustful eyes. 

The young writer’s eyes pierced your soul, engraving in her brain every mole you had around your shoulders, silently choosing her favorite one to add to the list of small details of your body she loved and kept fresh in her memories, always making sure to add ‘em in her writing. It amazes her how you never noticed the importance you had in her work, you were her muse. 

“Come to me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice, at the sound of her sweet voice your feet led your body closer to hers, moving according to her words, your knees sinking in the mattress only to find balance on top of her.  Her hands on your back brought you closer and you fell, once again, into that piquant feeling where it felt like you were about to drown, but her lips on your neck got you breathing in fervor. 

It was easy for the brunette to take control, reversing positions and sitting atop your abdomen, gripping one of your legs and casting one of hers in between them, fitting herself against you. 

“Fuck, Cairo.” You mewl, closing your eyes at the aggressive way she pressed herself down, easily gliding on you. One of your hands found her thigh, squeezing the flesh until it blemished under your fingertips, moving your hips according to the pace she set. It was cruel, desperate, the dark brown eyes fluttering closed. 

The bed slammed against the wall, the old wood-frame fated to snap at any moment; you didn’t care, it was impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t the girl in between your legs, rubbing herself on you with an inner desire to split you in half. You dazed at her, the angelical aura surrounding her like an armor, preventing the sins from escaping the walls of the still unknown bedroom like the squelching noises were, the lewd sounds from the both of you echoing around the hallway for anyone that dared to come closer and press their ears against the locked door. 

When the impetuous climax hit you like a jolt of electricity spreading in your veins, Cairo fell on top of you, exhaustion taking over her senses as well as the tired muscles complaining from all the spasms. 

The writer looked at you, tearful eyes as you soothed her bare back with an equally pleasured expression. Your bodies were weak, relying on each other at such a delicate and overwhelming moment, marked in black and blue by your hands and mouth, a greedy memory that will last. And if it ever vanishes, like the galaxies made out of bruises, all you needed to do is knock on her window.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Thorn in My Side || Jessie Fleming

warnings : mentions of injury and surgeries. insinuations of cheating and false accusations. angst. happy ending and smut will be in part two.

summary : you get injured, its Jessie's fault. or so you thought.

a/n : as i type this, i think i've figured out how to incorporate the smut! i'll get to writing as soon as this is posted! i'm not sure if it makes much sense, here's to hoping. enjoy.

“for your UCLA Bruins, number 21, Jessie Fleming!”

Jessie steps forward and smiles, waving to the flood of Bruins fans in the stands cheering them on. You clap with a scowl on your face, watching as the girls in the stands ogle and fawn over her. You’re admittedly jealous of her for reasons unbeknownst to you, but seeing the 5’5’ Canadian made your blood boil.

She was good on the football pitch and was smart to go along with it. Jessie had it all. Being called up for most of her time in school and playing for her national team made her well-known in the soccer world from the moment she was here in America.

She was ferocious on the grass, a fearless midfielder who put everything out there.

The game was a close one, tied at the half 2-2. There were lots of contact, tackles, and battles that made it clear to anyone watching that there was tension between you and Jessie. One always found the other; if one had the ball, the other wanted it.

You had possession, running towards goal. There was a flash of blue and you were on the ground yelling in pain, hands clutching at your ankle. There was a loud pop and your ankle began to swell. The trainers came over and were hauling you off on a stretcher almost immediately, the ref showing Jessie a yellow for the unsafe tackle. It wasn’t a red card because really you fell a little weird and her studs were nowhere near your ankle.

She looked genuinely sorry, taking your hand in hers as you were stretchered off. You were in too much pain to care, shoving her hand out of yours and your teammates pulling her away from you.

A broken ankle was what they said. It was a clean break but you needed surgery and that meant no more soccer for the season.

Just great.

They put you in a wheelchair before you head to the hospital, your parents are already at the stadium to take you. You hear the final whistle blow and your teammate rolls you in, the girls all feeling sad when you tell them the news. There’s a little Bruins blue in the sea of Trojans in front of you and there’s a Canadian standing there digging her cleat into the grass, wanting to apologize.

Megan and Kasey stand beside you just in case things get a little heated. Jessie steps forward and looks more sorry for you when she sees the bandages and you in a wheelchair.

“Is it broken?” she asks genuinely, looking at your leg and then at you.

“No thanks to you,” you snide, rolling your eyes at her. “What do you want now, Fleming?”

“I wanted to apologize, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says sincerely but you’re too bitter to hear her take ownership of her actions.

“You knew what you were doing, Fleming. You’ve always been out to get me our entire college career and now in our final year you finally get what you want!”

You don’t know the tears were starting until they did, pouring down your face hot and fast. She looked a little mortified and pale, backing away and saying she was sorry over and over before a sea of Bruins pulled her away to celebrate their win.

The whole car ride to the hospital you spent weeping, thinking about how you’re not going to be able to play your senior year out like you had hoped. But more so of the look of pure horror on Jessie’s face when you accused her of hating you so much that she would purposely hurt you.

She looked on the verge of tears. Like hurting you scared her.  

You scared her.

||

“The break is clean, but rehab will take a while if you’re not careful,” said Dr. Jeff, the attending podiatrist.

“How long?”

“You’re looking at 14 to 16 weeks, kiddo. Two years if you’re stubborn like most of my patients are.”

“16 weeks sounds great.”

“Smart kid you got here,” the doctor tells your parents with a smile, “I’ll schedule you in for surgery today, you should be out of here by the end of the week.”

The doctor leaves and your mother begins to fuss, propping up pillows and getting your nurse to bring you more jello. Your father, on the other hand, has a look of all-knowing on his face.

“I’m sorry Dad,” you begin, head hanging low the moment your mother leaves the room.

“Don’t be sorry, peanut. These things happen. Better now than when you’re on a professional team, yeah?”

“She didn’t really make me break my ankle did she?” you ask, looking up at your dad who was rubbing your back as the tears filled your eyes again.

“It was the perfect tackle, kiddo. You just fell a little funny is all.”

“She looked so horrified when I said she did it on purpose,” you sob, leaning into your father’s stomach. He held you tight and cradled your head, your heart hurting more than your broken ankle, the face Jessie made when the words left your mouth etched behind your eyelids.

||

There are plenty of flowers in your room the moment you wake from surgery. Lots of cards and get well soon balloons hung from the ceiling. You were still groggy when your teammates visited, Megan was sure to bring lots of Sharpies to sign your cast with, all the girls leaving a nice note for you on it.

There was an hour left for visitations and your parents just left to wash up at home. You were mindlessly scrolling through the terrible TV channel selections while finishing your 5th Jello cup when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” you yell, thinking it was a nurse coming to check your vitals again. What you didn’t expect was to see a brunette Canadian poking her head through the door.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly, standing by the door unsure if you really would want her to come in.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as kindly as possible, eyes flickering towards the clock above the door, “it’s late, why aren’t you back at school?”

“Spring Break, my parents are down from Canada so I asked to see you before we drove back,” she says quietly, stepping in a little more. “Can I come in?”

You nod, unsure if your mouth would be polite enough. Anger still seethed in your bones but the look of sheer horror on her face was still fresh in your mind.

“How bad was it?” she begins, still standing near the now-closed door.

“Clean break, should take 16 weeks if I’m careful.”

“That’s good. The doctors here are great.”

“They are quite convincing, they know how to get a patient to stay on their medical plan.”

“Did you get Dr. Jeff?”

“He accused me of being stubborn.”

Jessie laughs and you smile, a light blush creeping up your cheeks. It’s an adorable sound and her face of laughter replaces the one of fear you had burned into your mind.

“I’m really sorry for all this,” she begins but you cut her off.

“It wasn’t your fault, my dad said it was a clean tackle. I just fell funny.”

You looked up at her and saw the relief on her face and she stepped forward, taking your hand in hers. You took a deep breath and reciprocated her ownership of her mistakes, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders the moment you looked her in the eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said the other day Jessie, that was not fair to you.”

“Heat of the moment love, don’t worry about it.”

Your heart clenches hard when the pet name slips out of her lips and you smile, hoping she didn’t see your eyes dilate and feel your skin warm up. She nods and bids goodbye just as her phone rings which tells you her parents are waiting outside.

You sit there giddy and a little starstruck as she disappears out of view. Your hand is warm from her touch and you can still feel her hand holding yours. You thump your head back and curse loudly, before grabbing your leg in pain temporarily forgetting that you were actually hurt.

You giggle and bite your lip, shaking your head when your phone dings.

Maybe: Jessie Fleming.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.”

You clap a hand to your mouth and smile, face heating up with a dark blush.

“You did this, you better fix it.”

“I think we can make that happen, love.”

You don’t think you slept much that night, texting till the sun came up. Your parents came in to check on you in the morning and found you with your phone still on call with Jessie but you two were asleep. You woke up to your doctors talking to your parents and discussing your rehab plan. There was another text from Jessie, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’re also very cute when you’re sleeping.”

Over the next few weeks, you two talked constantly. Jessie kept you company when you were bored at rehab and you kept her company while she was training on her own. You called her every night before bed, giggling and laughing well into the night most nights.

“How is rehab coming along?” Jessie asked as you were lying back on the examination table to relax your ankle. She was in her bed, looking as stunning as you had been denying yourself the chance to admit.

“Good, looks like I can put pressure on it by next week if Tiff lets me,” you say, side-eyeing your trainer Tiffany who was doing cupping on another teammate’s back.  

“Girl, I will hold your papers hostage, don’t test me,” Tiffany jokes, waving the lit fire stick at you.

“Yes ma’am I’ll be super-duper extra careful!” you answer with a salute, making Jessie laugh so loud it rings through the room. Most of your teammates know the thing you’ve got going with her and think it’s cute.

All but one.  

Megan.

She stood at the door listening to you ramble on about Jessie this and Jessie that, her blood boiling at the thought of you being buddy-buddy with the girl she believed to be the one who hurt you.

Megan was a freshman who was from Florida. She was a great pick from her high school team, and the best defender on the East Coast. She made the team here at USC and to say the least, she fit right in.

There was homogeny that wasn’t there before she joined and the linkup between you and her helped you take her under your wing. She looked up to you and was so ecstatic to play with you after watching you on TV.

She felt that Jessie took away her only chance to play with you before you graduated.

Jessie needed to pay.

“Hey, weird question,” Jessie starts, one night while you two were tucked in bed and on the phone with each other.

“Yeah?” you ask, turning over onto your side. Jessie looked a little concerned but you shrugged it off, the girl was known to constantly look worried.

“Someone sent me this photo but it’s from an unknown number, I thought it was weird.”

Sent.

You looked at it in shock.

It was you. Kissing a girl on the basketball team.

“Jess this isn’t me.”

“I’m not blind you know, that’s you.”

“Jessie, I swear this was doctored! I’ve never talked to this girl, let alone fucking kissed her!”

“Then why did the fucking photo come with a text that said, “She’s not who you think she is,”?”

“I don’t know! No one else but the girls know about you and me! I promise Jessie please!”

“I need some time to think. Leave me alone.”

She hangs up.

The tears fill your eyes as you stare at this photo. You don’t even think you’ve crossed paths with this girl, having not been the biggest fan of basketball. But your face was clearly there and hers was too. Her lips were on yours and you looked like you were enjoying yourself.

You think and you think hard. You didn’t go to any parties lately with your leg and you haven’t been to any games of theirs. You stared at the photo for hours, wracking your brain for some kind of explanation.

An explanation as to why Jessie looked so hurt at the thought of you with someone else.

[venerawrites]

sfw and nsfw headcanons Victor x scientist!fem!reader 🙏🙏🙏

author's note: I finally have the chance to write for Viktor and I am so happy about it! Thank you so much for your patience and your request! Hope you enjoy! x

warnings: 18+ content: MINORS DNI

➤ SFW

Match made in heaven!

Seriously tho, I don't really see him with someone who is NOT a scientist. Mainly, because his job is practically his life, but also because I think that getting close to someone he is working with, is the most probable way for him to fall in love.

With that being said, your love life and work life would practically be the same thing. You will be together from morning till evening, working on the Hextech and trying to figure out different ways to incorporate it into your experiments.

As his lover, of course, your main priority is to find a way to help Viktor and better his health. Despite him being against it at first, due to his worry that you may get hurt in the process, eventually, he lets you help him.

Your work is often transferred from your lab to your home, and sometimes it can cause bitter arguments between you.

While Viktor is very calm and collected as a lover, but when it comes to scientific debates or arguments about work, he is extremely stubborn. He likes his way of work, and while usually, he is open to other opinions, he doesn't take it lightly if you boldly say "you are wrong".

He doesn't like arguing tho, so while he may be very passionate in the first 10 minutes or so, eventually he will go outside to get some fresh air and calm down before he comes back and apologizes.

This man acts so reserved, but he is a BIG SOFTIE! In the name of peace he is ready to say sorry even when he is right, so please don't be mean to him! (He honestly deserves the world!)

Loves to make stuff with you. It doesn't always have to be Hextech projects, sometimes he enjoys making small trinkets or toys, or just anything really, as long as he can spend some peaceful time with you.

Reading has always been a hobby of his, but since he met you, one of his favourite things to do is read to you. Before bed; while you are out on a date in the park; while travelling... And you love it too, as I can promise you, there is no sound more soothing than Viktor's voice!

Honestly, I don't think he is romantic. If anything, he is extremely smart academically, but when it comes to emotions... let's just say he is awkward. Any dates, gifts, or romantic gestures are mainly planned/made by you.

Not into PDA either, BUT will hold your hand while you are outside and sometimes place a sweet peck on your lips. In private, however, he will be more relaxed and while he will be a bit shy at the beginning of your relationship, soon he will relax and will even initiate intimacy.

BIG SUCKER FOR HUGS!

Again, he will do it mainly in private, but for him your arms just feel like HOME. No matter how stressed or angry he is, once you hold him in your embrace, he will forget every worry that has been troubling his mind.

He may not be the most open or easy partner, but he loves you to death. So please, please, be patient and gentle with him!

➤ NSFW

Not gonna lie, sometimes it baffles me when I see someone describe Viktor as some sex machine/kinky man, because... HOW? WHERE? WHEN?

If anything, I don't think sex ever excited him much. He had probably one girlfriend in his life before meeting you and even then, he was way more interested in studying and spending time in the lab than rolling in the sheets with someone.

He is the type to make love, rather than fuck.

At some point in your relationship, after you both felt comfortable enough with each other, lovemaking would definitely be one of his favourite ways to show you how much you mean to him.

Usually sex with him is slow and sensual, with a lot of quiet grunting, sweet whispers, eye contact, and holding hands.

He is not super vocal, but would always mutter in your neck or ear "I love you" and "You feel so good, God!".

(Likes it when you are loud tho, it definitely boosts his ego a bit!)

Due to his health, he is not really into rough sex, neither he has the stamina or the energy to perform it. Still, if you are somewhat of a freak in the bedroom, he will reluctantly agree to try using toys or tie you up while pleasuring you.

Speaking of pleasure...

So good at oral! I don't think he even realises it, as he was very embarrassed the first time he buried his head between your thighs, but he definitely has a natural talent for it!

As I said above, he is not into PDA, let alone trying intimacy ANYWHERE outside your bedroom, BUT with a bit of begging, whining, and assuring him at least 10 times the door is locked, he will let you climb on his desk and spread your legs before him. The combination of his tongue and fingers is guaranteed to make you see stars!

He also enjoys receiving, but for some reason always feels embarrassed and shy, so he doesn't let you do it often. Again you either have to beg him for it or he has to feel extra stressed to let you do it.

Your usual sex position is missionary, as he loves being able to stare at your face and it also gives him control, without excessive movements, but he also enjoys you riding him. Not only is the least painful for his leg and back but he also loves watching your tits bounce.

Even tho as a man of culture he appreciates BOTH your tits and your ass.

When it comes to aftercare, he is very gentle and to be honest, often more tired than you. He enjoys you pampering him and showering him with affection.

cc artwork: "Arcane" Concept Art

[nightmare-foundation]

Honestly it lowkey annoys me whenever people say that Michael has 'very little personality' outside of hunting down his father.

N like- on the surface, that seems true, but like. If you look deeper, that's... not really true?? Because there's a LOT that actually speaks to his character, but you have to be willing to catch onto the connections his character has

Like, for example, Michael has a very straightforward way of speaking. He's dry and sarcastic ("They thought I was you... [laugh]"), has a foreshortened sense of the future (the drawing of a gravestone in the security logbook), not to mention the dialogue of foxybro in fnaf 4. He doesn't beat around the bush, but he's bitter and dry and sarcastic. Even as an old man, his anger and cynicism towards Freddy's shows in his drawings, but he has a sense of humor (the exotic butters and casual bongos referenced in the logbook, not to mention the silly drawings), plus he's sentimental (as said before, exotic butters and casual bongos). Not to mention he's stubborn as shit, given he keeps coming back to Freddy's, even after 30 whole years.

A lot of people also really like to write Michael off as being stupid, for... some reason. The games really say otherwise; the fact that he tampers with the animatronics regularly, figured out what his father did and what happened to Elizabeth in less than a week, freed the dead kids, helped make FFPS and ran a business, likely Also made the fnaf 3 location too, knew what was gonna happen to him in SL (pretty clear given the fact you can ignore Baby's directions on the last night), can manage several animatronics at once throughout an entire night...

Michael is very clearly Really Fucking Smart. Smart enough that I'm willing to bet that was one of the reasons why William sent him to the SL bunker. Michael is FAR from an idiot, and the FNAF movie even proves this further! He's SCARILY smart!

There's a lot more too; him using a red foxy mask speaks a lot to his character too. Red is often used to denote everything from passion to anger (yknow, 'seeing red' being a term for when you're blind with rage), and he wears it the entire time he bullies CC. It's not just a literal mask, it's figurative too; Michael puts up a mask of anger, he pretends to be this scary bully. The cruelty isn't real, Michael is just the scapegoat and he's acting out (very very common).

Also, Michael is 100% who you play as in fnaf 4 based on the movement, and who rubs away in Midnight Motorist. CC is the type of kid to freeze up, curl up into a ball and cry when he's scared, as seen several times in fnaf 4. It wouldn't make sense for him to suddenly turn around and start running around, or fighting back. It's very Michael to run around, constantly looking around, or to break out and run away.

Another note on Michael's character is that he's associated with Foxy. The Funtimes are clearly modeled after the Aftons (Ballora and Baby are, why wouldn't the rest match CC (Freddy) and Michael (Foxy)?), and using that we can gleam some parts of Michael from FT Foxy (since William clearly was trying to mock and make fun of him with the angsty teen voice). FT Foxy is a performer; he's dramatic, he's vicious, attacking even when he 'shouldn't', and wants his stage solely to himself.

This fits Michael; Michael put on an act of viciousness and cruelty, always attacking when you least expected it. So it makes sense that Michael, too, is a performer, and FFPS hammers this in using the business bear. Again, the mask represents Michael acting, pretending, and it wouldn't be the first time an Afton would pretend (William, Elizabeth, and to an extent, CC). The rest of the Aftons are also theatrical and dramatic, so again, this tracks. He's also represented as one of those hand puppets in the ffps alleyway poster, something used to ACT.

And again, with Foxy, we can gleam that Michael likely is also a sort of 'leader' figure, since Foxy has been depicted as not just a pirate captain, but also as a Ringleader. This also tracks, not just bc the Aftons have a circus theme, but Michael is the eldest of his siblings, and thus the de facto 'leader'. He's the first to act, to put things into motion when everything 'ends'. Foxy is also, well, a fox, which are depicted as cunning and intelligent, which only lends credence to Michael being intelligent.

It's also implied that Michael... doesn't really care about people who Aren't his family?? Whether that's by blood or not, he doesn't care abt others who isn't his family. This is implied by the fact that he only cared about freeing Elizabeth, showing absolutely No care about the Funtimes despite them clearly being sentient. Not to mention the lawsuits he regularly gets in FFPS, or the state Fazbears Frights is in in fnaf 3. And, judging by Henry's final speech, he and Michael just. Don't seem to talk At All. At the very least they definitely don't communicate since Henry assumed Michael wanted to die (which is left Very Ambiguous).

Honestly this doesn't even BEGIN to get into everything that the Glitchtrap Michael theory says about his character that also hammer in all of these traits Even Further.

And like. Michael is SOOO much like William when you put all of this into perspective. Like, they are SIMILAR similar, but differ in ways that are important. Michael is a performer, an actor, he doesn't care about anyone outside of his family, he's stubborn as fuck, he's smart as hell, he's sarcastic and dry, etc.

He has SO. MUCH. CHARACTER. You just have to dig a little- this is ALL gleamed from the games and Security Logbook. There's more if you believe he's Glitchtrap- which he very likely is.

Just... it's nuts. He's such an intriguing character, he's not perfect and he's morally gray, yet people love to dumb him down to "hehe sad uwu arsonist zombie boy who's also Stupid"

Please just let Michael be a problematic old man (he was born in the 60s ffs, he's almost in his 60s by the time ffps rolls around).

[crusty-chronicles]

As requested, I present to you ✨

Hiei Bringing His Airheaded S/O To Demon World

Absolute chaos

The entire time he regrets bringing you there.

He only did so because he was tired of you crying everytime he left. Even though he always came back to you no matter what, idiot.

Truthfully, he prefers you staying in the living world because there's less things that could kill you.

No bloodthirsty demons salivating at the scent of you. No carnivorous plants waiting for you to aimlessly stumble into. And no threats of kidnapping and being used for ransom.

It's not like you can't take care of yourself, but the chances of a someone or something taking advantage of your naivety are high

Which is why he specifically tells you to stay close to him.

“If you get lost here, I won't try to find you.” It was a small warning that he'd never really follow through with. But he needed you to take this seriously.

“But you found me when I got lost on my way home that one time.”

“I mean it this time.”

He has to keep a constant eye on you at all times.

Even going as far as holding your hand to keep you in place.

Which is very humiliating for him. The three eyed demon not used to openly showing his affections.

His first stop is Mukuro's base. To which you responded ‘Why is it moving??? I think I'm gonna get motion sickness.’

Because of his constant supervision, he isn't really able to do his job.

And so it begins.

He needs his Jagan, so it's either you or the other poor humans who stumbled past the makai barrier.

Guess who he chooses most of the time.

The few times he does leave you, he makes sure you're occupied with something.

“Go spar with those new recruits over there while I'm gone.”

“Okay!”

Bless those poor demons. They never stood a chance.

Hiei warned Mukuro beforehand about you.

How you're decently strong but don't have a single thought in your head.

She didn't believe him at first. At least, not until she met you in person.

How you managed to bust a hole in the wall by tripping, she'd never know. She saw it happen, but she still doesn't understand how it's possible.

Hiei introduces you to her and immediately regrets it.

“You’re a liar! You said you didn't have any friends.” You pointed out, causing the three eyed demon to tense up.

“I don't. Mukuro's an ally.”

“We both know it's the same for you.”

He's actually mad you're smart enough to figure that out but not why you shouldn't eat glass.

He's pretty embarrassed about your relationship. Not because he's ashamed of you. Couldn't be any further than the truth. He relishes in the fact you're so strong, paired along with your heart that has more kindness than he's able to fathom.

No, Hiei is embarrassed because here he's respected. His reputation is infamous and he's regarded highly. Known to be cruel yet reasonable.

But here he is telling you not to wonder off like some worried parent.

Here he is inspecting the smallest of cuts on your finger and healing it.

It's just so embarrassing for him to be soft in front of others who aren't you.

“So this is the one that has you returning to the human world.” Mukuro teased.

But Hiei wouldn't take the bait.

“I don't know what you're talking about.

Only for you to come up to him with a small gem. Presenting it proudly to him.

“Hiei! Look what I found! Isn't it pretty?”

It's a ruby. Something you'd told him reminds you of his eyes. It makes a tinge of red appear on his face.

But Hiei's a stubborn demon.

“And what do you expect me to do with it?” A tone that would sound cruel to anyone but you.

“Maybe I could turn it into a necklace like the one you gave me.”

“That's a ridiculous idea.”

It was inevitable something would happen to you on this trip. A lot of demons were still bitter about the outcome of the tournament. And with Hiei's involvement with the reform, you were only a huge target.

He ends up wearing it for the rest of the trip. Guarding it with his life. Much to the amusement of the Mukuro and her henchmen.

He came back to the base expecting to see you waiting, but you weren't there.

He didn't waste a second using his Jagan to find you.

He fully prepared to end the life of whatever demon decided to mess with his mate, but when he found you, you'd already taken care of it.

Save for a few scratches on your arm, you were completely fine.

It led to Hiei scolding you for walking off with someone you didn't know. Promising this would be the last time you ever came here for acting so reckless, and that you weren't to leave his side for the rest of the time you were here.

It proved that he was right with you staying in the living world. It was safer for you. And he had Kurama to take care of you if anything happened. You were completely alone here.

“How come you didn't want me to come here?” You asked while he went over your injuries once more.

His answer came immediately.

“Because I knew you wouldn't be able to stay out of trouble.”

“Hey, it's not my fault that guy wanted to fight. How was I supposed to know he wasn't a part of Mukuro’s army?”

He glared up at you.

“You're an idiot.” Then his gaze softened. A look reserved only for you.

“…But you're my idiot, therefore my responsibility. I can't have you getting hurt on my watch.”

What kind of mate would he be if he couldn't even take care of you in his element?

You sat in silence for a while, and he briefly wondered if he went too far. You usually never took his harsh words to heart. He was relieved when he heard you speak again.

“You seem to really like it here. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to stayed after all one of these days.”

You still thought he would just abandon you? Truly your naivety infuriated him.

“In case I haven't made my intentions clear before, I come back for you and you only. Yet you still doubt my devotion. If you expect me to stay in the living world forever with you, you shouldn't.” But I'll always come back for you. Words he'd said over and over again.

An idea struck you then.

“We could stay here if you want. Get all old together. Maybe start a family.”

He couldn't stop the heat crawling onto his face. The way the red seemed to glow from his flustered state. He had to look away from you and move back.

“As if. I have no intentions to keep you here, nor procreate with someone who can't even tie their shoe.”

He heard you laugh and the red only worsened from there.

He didn't like the effect your words had on him.

Tempting him with something so sweet. Something that would inevitably give him even more of a weak spot.

But you weren't meant for this world. Your home was on the other side of this barrier. And his was with you.

For now this arrangement of being with you periodically would work.

[buckysgrace]

10. I miss you, I’m sorry

Broken Hearts Club

Steve Harrington x reader

An early post since I accidentally deleted the last chapter smh.

Steve comes to see you.

Steve

The last few weeks had been dull as a gloomy cloud had settled over him, storming and thundering as the lonely feeling caught hold of him. He hated this feeling, but there was no way to get rid of it. He was too bitter to talk to you, still betrayed over how you had lied to him.

“You look awful.” Robin spoke up, shaking the tip jar around again. He had a feeling she was trying to get a rise out of him, but it wasn’t going to work. Not today.

“Thanks.” He replied dryly as he continued to scrub the counter clean, irritated that today had to be such a slow day. Where were all the kids? Probably enjoying the pool like the traitors they were.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” She asked in frustration, holding her hands out like she didn’t understand. He shook his head, not in the mood to see you at the moment.

“I’ve already spoken to her,” He grumbled, “There’s nothing more to say.” He said, seriously debating about scooping himself out some ice cream. He hadn’t seen you since your last talk, had refused to drive past your house or look at the stall where you worked. Ignoring you was easier, even if he still caught wind of some things.

“I don’t think that’s true.” She told him softer this time around. He snorted, figuring she had to be tired of talking about you too. He couldn’t escape you in his dreams either. It was frustrating, like karma had finally caught up with him.

“Good thing you don’t know everything.” He smarted back, dropping his rag in frustration. No matter how hard he scrubbed at the counters they remained sticky.

“What she did was shitty,” She agreed with him, “But I don’t think she’s a terrible person. You said she was going to tell you, right?” She questioned again, crossed her arms as she leaned against the counter. He sighed.

“Only because her friend was going to tell me.” He repeated the bitter truth, still wondering why you couldn’t just tell him. He didn’t think he was that scary, or shitty. But maybe he still was the asshole from school.

“She’s nice,” She said a second later, “I don’t think that’s completely true.” She nodded her head softly, making him irritated at the way she was siding with you. She was his friend, not yours.

“So I should just forgive her?” He asked with a little laugh, already knowing that he couldn’t do that. At least he thought he couldn’t.

“You should talk to her,” She reasoned with him, giving her head a little shake, “Why are you being so stubborn?” She rested her hands on her hips, mirroring his actions.

“I don’t want to go through another breakup,” He grumbled, “She’s going off to college soon anyways.” He dropped his hands in annoyance again, figuring that would be the end of it. You’d be somewhere else. Much happier. You’d probably find someone else too, but that thought didn’t linger well with him.

“So that’s it?” She questioned him, “You never want to see her again?” She asked as she reached out, giving his shoulder a little push. He grumbled as he pushed her away.

“I never said that,” He sighed, “It’s just complicated.” He stated at last, not wanting to bring up the fresh wounds again. Daybed he would talk to you later, but he didn’t want to think about you right now.

“You don’t have much time left,” She reminded him, “You should talk to her before it’s too late.” She added a second later, making him nod his head as he thought about it. You would be leaving for college soon. Far away, all the way to Chicago. You were leaving this small town for some big city.

“I guess.”

“And get us some more of that banana bread,” She added a second later, “That was really good.” He mumbled along as he thought about how they had devoured it between a shared joint.

He thought about you the rest of his shift and not in his usual mopey way. He took a lot of time considering how the past few weeks had been and if he wanted to keep up like this. He was sure he could eventually pick up the pieces, just as he had with Nancy. But something about you was different. You had always been mingled through his life in some manner and it felt wrong to just lose you completely.

But he was hurt. He couldn’t deny that, even if it was over some dumb bet. Or prank. Whatever it had been. It was immature of you, but that wasn’t the part that hurt him the post. It was the lies. He didn’t understand how you could be with him for so long and keep such a big secret and then be afraid to tell him the truth. None of that made sense to him.

Despite being so hurt, he took pity on you and the way you were pumping your legs furiously to work your bike up over the hill. The summer sun was high in the sky, the air wet and dry. It was a miserable day to be outside. Something about it made him feel soft inside, bitter as he recalled the memories.

He slowed down as he approached you, watching the way you were trying to make your way towards the top of the hill. Part of him wished that he could say that you deserved to be out in the hot heat, but he only felt bad instead.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked as he came to a halt, rolling his window down as your eyes snapped towards him in surprise.

“Oh,” You stalled, “My house is right there.” You pointed out, as if he didn’t know where you lived. His eyes drifted over your shorts for a second too long, heart aching at the worry that you had moved on just fine without him.

“Maybe you can come over and we can talk.” He replied at last, feeling like there was a weight being lifted off of his chest. Your eyes scanned his features for a moment, like you were trying to determine if this was a joke or not.

“Okay,” You breathed out deeply, blinking at him, “Are you sure?” You paused as you glanced down the road, checking for traffic before you pulled yourself off of your bike seat.

“Positive,” He said as he put the car in park, then hopped out to grab your bike, “Why aren’t you driving?” He asked you, recalling how he had seen your car not too long ago.

“Oil change,” You replied sheepishly, “My grandpa is doing it today.” You rubbed your palms over your arm, watching closely as he squeezed your bike into the trunk. Just enough room.

The short ride to his house was quiet, tense as you continually moved your hands across your knees and arms. You were nervous, that much was obvious.

“You can come in,” He chuckled softly, even though he felt just as awkward, “I won’t bite.” He replied as he held the door open, watching as you shimmied your way inside. He hated how the two of you had taken several steps back.

He walked to the fridge, reminded that he desperately needed to head to the grocery store again. He ignored that though, instead reaching for two cans of Coke. He passed one to you, watching the delicate way you opened it.

“Did you read my letter?” You asked at last, bringing the can up to your lips as your eyes fleeting met his. He chewed on his bottom lip, knowing that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

“I did,” He told you softly, “You have a way with words. You should be a poet.” He said seriously. Your words were stunning, beautiful. He wanted to read more of your thoughtful sentences. Even if they sort of rambled at times.

“Right,” You snorted, “But did I explain myself well?” You asked as you furrowed your eyebrows together. He knew what you were really asking. He just didn’t know the full answer to that yet. But he had missed you. Even with all the hurt, he still wanted you. He’d always wanted you.

“I just don’t know why you couldn’t trust me.” He replied at last, not liking the bitter taste that filled his mouth as the words rolled off of his tongue. But it was the truth. He needed to know why.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” You promised, “That part was killing me. I figured you’d probably understand. But I didn’t want to be the one that caused the issues.” You shook your head, laughing a little bit.

“It blew up in your face.” He replied, trying to bite back his own smile. Even if he was supposed to be mad at you, something about this felt so natural. He could argue with you for a lifetime.

“Majorly.” You agreed as you sighed deeply, shoulders slumping. He watched you, momentarily memorizing the expression on your face. You look defeated.

“When do you leave for school?” He asked gently, wondering how much time he’d have left. Maybe the two of you could make up before then. Maybe.

“A week,” You told him softly, “I’m excited.” You told him as a smile formed on your lips. He felt his heart crack a little bit, thinking about how far away you would be. He could still change his mind, though. He could still go with the original plan.

“You quit your job?” He asked you softly, trying to recall the last time he had seen you. He had been avoiding you, but maybe that’s why it had been so easy.

“I did,” You nodded your head along, “I figured I owed myself one last week to myself.” Your eyes were gentle as he met your gaze again, feeling the need to cup your face and hold you.

“Just by yourself?” He asked softly, wondering if you were even interested in him still. Maybe he had waited for too long.

“The friends I had were shitty,” You replied with a crinkled nose, “And the guy I’m crazy about isn’t talking to me right now.” You had a longing gaze on your features, making his heart thump roughly inside of his chest.

“We’re talking.” He replied as he felt his lips curl into a soft smile. Baby steps. That was good. Maybe this had been a little too rushed anyways.

“I hurt him,” You continued on, “And I was a big ass about it. He didn’t deserve to be treated in that way. I totally blew it.” You rambled on for a moment, making him consider your words. He agreed with them, but he knew he hadn’t been perfect either.

“I don’t know about totally,” He said a second later, “I think I’ve been a dick before too.” He told you truthfully, regretting the way he had ditched you in school. Things would’ve been better if he had just stuck with you.

“Steve,” You exhaled roughly, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want it to get this far.” You looked apologetic again, eyes brewing over with fresh tears. He watched, but didn’t want you to cry.

“You’re being honest right now?” He questioned you softly, wondering if that trust could be bridged between the two of you again.

“Of course I am,” You said in surprise, “I swear to you.” You told him quickly, nodding your head. He breathed in deeply, feeling a lot better suddenly.

“I’m sorry I ditched you in high school.” He apologized, knowing he hadn’t ever fully said it outloud. Maybe he didn’t mean it then either, but he did now.

“That’s not important,” You mumbled as you looked towards the ceiling, “I shouldn’t listen to what people tell me so easily.” You chewed on your bottom lip, making him smile wistfully.

“You’re going to make much better friends than Patty.” He said honestly, feeling bad that you had been stuck with someone like her for so long.

“You think so?” You questioned, eyes glimmering hopefully. He paused for a moment, reaching across the counter to take your hand.

“I think you’re going to do great things.” He promised, observing the way your hand fit against his. Perfectly.

“I think you will too,” You replied gently, “Maybe you’ll forgive me one day and I can be there to witness that.” You breathed out hopefully, but he already knew what his answer was.

“I don’t get it,” He said suddenly, “How could you just lie to me like that?” He asked again, almost withdrawing his hand. But he stayed still, wanting to hear your answer. He wanted to believe you too. Badly.

“I didn’t realize it was real until it was too late,” You admitted, “And then I was afraid of hurting you. I know it sounds stupid, but I never wanted to hurt you. I promise you.” You nodded your head, looking earnest.

“You’ll never lie to me again?” He asked softly, linking his fingers with yours gently.

“Ever.” You nodded your head sternly, a small smile forming on your lips. His chest felt even lighter, his heart not as sore. He believed you, he really did.

“Maybe I could come with you,” He started to suggest, thinking about where this was going, “I mean, you’re going to need someone to carry all of those boxes.” He replied as a small laugh came from you.

“Oh, absolutely,” You nodded your head in agreement, “I need a strong man to help me out.” You teased, smile blinding as he watched the way your lips parted. He had a feeling that everything was going to be alright.

Thanks for reading!!

Tags: @ravenclawkatherine @losingmygrasponreality

[spideyhexx]

billy himself better do an apology with tears right NOW!!!! or he'll regret it

he really should!!!!!!! :)

fem!reader; apart of saccharine

The next few days that follow this are very confusing for Billy. You avoid him like the plague, almost as if he's a ghost that's unseen to you. You've come to terms that you pushed him too far, but you were too stubborn to approach him first. So you ignore him.

He called you a pest. His words replay and your mind is smart enough to recognize that he snapped and spat out words without realizing, but that never disregarded how much it hurt.

Billy went through multiple different stages since he snapped at you. He felt bad at first, then later at night, the thought that you deserved to be put in your place crossed his mind, but he hated himself for it, so he wrote it off. After getting a good night's rest, his mind clearer, Billy assumed the day would go on like normal and you would tease him like normal.

He was looking around his vicinity the whole day, wondering where the hell you were and why you weren't trailing around him. A missing place was next to him and it followed him around like an invisible ghost. Billy doesn't realize you're ignoring him until dinner that night when he walks right up next to you to make his plate and you don't give him a glance. No look, no smile, no twinkle in your eye. You gather your own food and turn heel to find a place to sit.

He's nonexistent to you. His stomach builds up with nerves as this continues, his fingers anxious, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt and picking at the old leather of his belt as he watches you converse with Jesse and the other boys. Is he actually longing for your sweet voice? The way your lips curve in the most devious of smiles when his brow furrows or his jaw clenches, knowing you've got him angry.

Billy pays attention to you that night, how you pick apart your bread and eat it in small increments. The way your men's shirt is half untucked and the glint in your eye when you near the campfire. That glint. He wanted it directed at him. Did he? Yes. No. He doesn't know anymore.

The next day, Billy is mustering up the courage to apologize. The guilt within his body is at a high when he keeps thinking about how much he missed you. He knew he couldn't say that to you, but an apology should be enough, right? He regrets his words. You may bother him a lot but he crossed a line and Billy is not proud of it. He tries to speak with you after dinner, but you're going to your cot to sleep the moment he decides to get up. His muscles freeze. He feels the lump in his throat. He gives up. He thinks himself a coward. Billy has pushed himself to do some scary things in his life, but he can't even approach you with an apology. It was pathetic, to him.

Billy can't sleep that night. He doesn't think he can speak to you. He knows he should, but what if he just can't? He lays out in the grass instead of his cot, staring up at the stars and the moon as he racks his brain for something he can do so you stop ignoring him. The grass is cool, tickling at the back of his neck as though its tendrils trying to attach to him, give him the guidance he needs in this moment. He reads the stars, asking them silently if there is any way to remedy the situation. Billy can't take it, even if his thoughts reject the fact that he wants you, his subconscious was all for it, rooting for it. Right before his eyes got too heavy to stay awake, there was a click in his brain.

Your day runs smoothly, avoiding Billy was a hard task as you felt yourself itching to just give in and confront him about the whole situation, but the fact that he hasn't spoken a word to you either made you bitter. You miss him still, so you let yourself watch him occasionally when he gets on his horse and rides off, but for the most part, you focus your attention elsewhere. To people who do like you.

As you wind down for the evening and head back to your cot, there's a small bag near your pillow and a piece of paper tucked beneath it. With a cautious step, you sit down and take the paper in your hands.

"I'm sorry for what I said. It wasn't right. You're not a pest. Maybe a pain in my ass sometimes, but that's okay. I promise. I know this might not be enough to say and what I bought might not be enough, but it's for you. It's not a way to bribe you for your forgiveness either. You don't need to forgive me. This is just for you. Thought you'd get a kick out of it. Figured you needed one of your own, cowgirl."

Your eyes quickly scramble to where it ends with, "Bonney," his sloppy handwriting that looks rushed makes your own head feel in a rush, rereading his words two or three more times before you set the paper down and open the bag.

It's a hat, a genuine cowboy hat. A dark color akin to Billy's own hat, but still different, still unique for you. You think about how this must have cost him a good deal of money, but it's hard to think about that when your heart is swelling abnormally large. How many times had you mentioned to him how badly you wanted your own hat? How you never had the funds to buy one for yourself and when you did have the money to, it was always going to more important purchases. He was actually listening?

You feel yourself smiling, not able to stop it as you place the hat on your head, the fir near perfect and your hands find the note he wrote. You reread it and then fold it neatly, tucking it beneath your pillow with a soft sigh, the airiest of grins plastered to your face for the rest of the night to come.

let's chat about billy, here :)

[nectardaddy]

Serendipity

kita shinsuke x f!reader masterlist honey, honey

I wanna know if your heart's racing too. . .because mine's a mile a minute

notes: based one month after the original timeline of '88 Ford, not really proofread I got lazy, silly goofy vibes and I love them so bad

The morning air was gentle, cool, and crisp. Every rush of wind bit at her exposed arms and made a chill run down her spine; forgetting a jacket wasn’t the best of decisions, especially so early in the morning. It was the time of year that was frigid in the mornings and late into the evening, but warm once it reached mid-day. She hated it, as she never truly knew what to wear. Despising layers, the friction from long sleeves and jackets on her arms upon working drove her up a wall, and being incredibly stubborn, she simply didn't see the need - until now. 

She cursed as she dragged a bale of hay, tightly tied so only a few pieces strayed behind, through the field and to the side of a fence before she was thrust with another bitter wind that made her suck in a sharp breath. “Jesus fuck why the hell is it so cold?” To which only the breeze answered, rustling through trees that began to lose their leaves in droves. Red, orange, and brown littered the ground as each gust only sent more down, and only made her more frustrated. 

She debated going back inside for a jacket, but the thought of returning to the warm, cozy atmosphere of the farm house made her rethink. If she stepped one foot inside before her chores were done, they, most definitely, would not be getting done. The woman didn't hear the low rumble of a truck far behind her, nor did she hear the slam of its door when it finally parked. Too preoccupied in hurling curses and insults at the wind, of all things, she hadn't the faintest idea anyone had neared her until the crunch of leaves was beside her. 

“Good mornin’,” the timbre of the man's voice startled her and she sucked in a breath. She had dropped the hay bale she was once dragging, a swish hitting her ears as it hit the ground abruptly. He watched her turn around quickly, narrowed eyes prying into him with a focus almost deadly. The woman never was one for fear, as her fight or flight reaction was always to completely rip apart. But her gaze softened when she saw him - Kita Shinsuke, the man she could finally call hers - and he watched the anger and near panic drift away from her features in mere seconds.

“Mornin’,” a gruff reply to a sweet start of an interaction. “Don't even ask to help me, you need to get to work.” Her tone was snappy, but held only the smallest amount of bite to it. She couldn't be snarky with him even if she tried. Years of pining refused her to do so, even if it was the only thing she knew how to do.

He flashed her a small smile, “that's why I wasn't gonna’ ask.” The man was a bit cheeky with his words, despite the attitude he knew, all too well, that the woman possessed. Often saw first hand how bluntly she placed her words, and just how deadly they could be. One month ago he probably wouldn't have dreamed of defying her; but now, although respectful and maintaining his manners, he opted for helping her anyway, despite her protest. He caught her gaze again as he stepped forward, and narrowed eyes onto him made his lips pull into a wider smile. “Y'look pretty this mornin’.” 

She positioned herself in front of the hay bale - a silent, stubborn refusal as she rolled her eyes at his words. She knew too well what his words truly were: a sidestep of the conversation at hand. “Don't be a smart ass, Shin, I just woke up ten minutes ago.” One thing the woman was not was a morning person, and the sentiment shone through her appearance and attire within the early mornings. Tired eyes, jostled hair, and the first few pieces of clothing she could get her hands on off her bedroom floor - one being pajama pants. Added with work boots and gloves, so the hay wouldn't slice up her hands, there was no denying she looked rather out of place, comfortable even. 

“I'm not,” he denied. “I think you always look pretty.” He tried stepping to the side, hoping to pass her to help her with the chores she still had to complete, only for her to step in front of him again. He only chuckled, “why am I not allowed to help you?”

“Because I can do it myself,” a snappy response as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You need to get to work.” A thought crossed his mind that he very well could take the hay bale from her; but the inevitable scolding that would ensue made him halt the thought in its tracks. It was far too early to get her riled up; if he pissed her off now the entire day would spiral into her fit of rage. 

“I know you can do it by yourself.” He learned his first year on the farm that agreeing with her was, by far, the simplest solution - and the best way to skirt around an ear full of swearing. “But I want to help you.” 

There was a groan, loud enough he could hear the annoyance drip from her lips. He thought about pointing out that help could be beneficial, she could get done faster, but the hiss that followed made his mind change gears. The man knew it was chilly the moment he stepped out of his own home, dawning a work jacket that would later be neglected as the sun rose - but worn nonetheless. While he wasn't surprised to see her without one, knowing full well she told herself she didn't need it, he knew she was cold. And now, as another gust of the frigid breeze hit them, she swore and went rigid.

“Dammit,” she groaned. “Whatever, you can help, but just so I can get the hell out of the cold.” Her words were brash and sharp, jagged and rough as they left her tongue. Her usual drawl thicker as she became frustrated with the idea of receiving help; in her mind, she didn't need it, didn't want it. Growing up on a farm meant one does things by themselves, divvy out work so things ran smoothly, so she simply never asked for it. She knew better. But Kita's assistance threw a wrench into the working order she helped create, and her jaw clenched at the very thought. “Don't think for a second you're helping me every morning, got it?”

Usually her words made others scowl and roll their eyes, sometimes even sling words right back if they were truly brave enough (though it never ended well.) But he only smiled, as that was what he fell in love with in the first place. Never scared to speak her mind, quick to defend herself and those she loved - which made his heart race every time he was the topic of defense - and slick words that could get her out of just about anything. “Yes, ma'am.” He heard an audible ‘ugh’ leave her lips at the latter word, and he gave her a sheepish smile, “sorry, it's a habit.”

Before the man aided the woman in her morning chores; however, he took the jacket he was wearing off. Felt a pull at his heart strings every time she shivered or cursed, or down right complained. Once the fabric left his skin, the cool air hit him with force, earning a small shiver from him but he handed her the jacket all the same. Unfortunately, it seemed the bitter wind had turned her already poor mood completely sour. She shot him a look before bending down to grab the neglected hay, not taking the jacket in an act of utter stubbornness.

“I don't need that shit.” The woman groaned as she began to drag the bundle, shuffling past his outstretched hand as she forcibly pulled. “Are you gonna’ help or stand there?” She watched him frown and turn his head, dead set on creating a stalemate with her over a jacket.

“You're cold, honey.” The pet name left his lips unfavorably smooth, and his breath hitched in his throat upon realizing. It wasn't necessarily a strange word, but foreign between the pair that just recently confessed their pining. The man felt his heart hammer in his chest; all notions of being cold just seconds prior were dashed as a surge of heat rose to his face. Shit. He was, most definitely, a dead man walking.

‘Honey’ was considered a curse to the woman, and he knew the sentiment like the back of his hand. She would balk and roll her eyes at the word if spoken from someone, usually past lovers he had the misfortune of meeting, coming and going here and there over the years. Would hear her snap and groan at the word, trampling any comfort behind it with a stark ‘don't fuckin’ call me that.’ So he stood stationary as she registered the word, watched her process it in her mind as he stood like a mad man waiting for death row. But the execution never came. 

Instead, there was a pause, a short moment of nothingness as she dropped the bale once more, the hay forgotten for the umpteenth time. He felt as though he should apologize, grovel, something as he watched her eyes search his own. But no words ever came to him, as he knew saying anything might buy him a one way ticket to heaven's gates. Countless times he had heard the woman rip into others, a terror of a woman whom he never thought he would be the recipient of her cruelty. Her gaze made him feel small, like a sheep who cowered before a wolf just before its jaws sunk into skin.

But the sharp snap of jaws was dashed by a small smile. And he felt his world that began to crash around him rewind.

It was a smile that was fought against, as he saw her bite the inside of her cheek in order to stop it. But it was no use as her smile grew anyway. “God,” she finally broke the silence with a small chuckle. “I thought I hated that word.” Past tense. Hated. Never in his life did he ever think he would be grateful of the word hated, it was brash and his grandmother always told him never to use such a strong word against anything. But now, hearing the past tense made him breathe a sigh of relief. “I’ve lost my edge.”

“What?”

Honey. A singular, two syllable, word had redirected her mood from devilish to tender. A sudden change that gave her whiplash, but was thoroughly enjoyed nonetheless. The woman chuckled at his reaction and finally took the jacket from him - one of which he had held out for her to take the entire time, too frightened to move. “You make me soft.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Questioned through a small smile that finally peaked the corners of his lips, grateful that the woman didn’t kill him right there on the spot. 

She rolled his eyes and sighed, but the grin on her lips still remained through her faux sense of exasperation. “Obviously,” her tone now mirrored sarcastic and she took a step towards him. “I’m supposed to put the fear of god into you.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, bubbling out at her words at the realization she was none the wiser to his fear only seconds before. “Trust me, you do.”

@wyrcan @chizunata @seroh @chemiru @aozui

@h3xi2g0n3 @localgaytrainwreck @mollyrolls @causenessus @diorzs

@rory-cakes @phoenix-eclipses @pattys-got-cakes @girlkissersco

@jaynawayna @aliensstolemyheart @le000xxgrd @cherrypieyourface @theycallmenanamisgirl

@softpia @bokutoko @guitarstringed-scars @totallytatum @bakery-anon

@hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @eggyrocks @jadeoru

@sandwhitches

[mionemymind]

Chapter 4: Finding My Way To You

My Rival Series

Series Summary: The time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.

Chapter Summary: Wanda is determined to get Y/n back to Evergreen University, but how will she?

A/n: Apologies for the delay. I struggle a lot with writing filler sometimes until I get moments where I'm like "shit that would be cute to write". Hopefully y'all enjoy. (Gif Credits to @samaraweaving)

Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing

Word Count: 5.9k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Summer Break 

“At what point does this obsession with Y/n turn from respect into love?” In their summer home, Wanda layed on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her hands fiddled with the green crystal around her neck, a constant reminder of the girl that clouded her dreams. 

“What makes you think that I’m thinking about her? I could be thinking about school.” Wanda didn’t have to look to know that Pietro was smirking. While he knew very little about what Wanda felt about Y/n, he did know the ruckus she’s causing to get Y/n back. And that was enough to leave a big impression on Pietro. 

“School doesn’t have you paralyzed in your room for three weeks. Not only that, you don’t have any summer courses this year.” Sitting down at the open desk chair, Pietro spun around as he aimlessly looked around Wanda’s room. “And last time I checked, no other person has your eye…well not in the way Y/n does.” 

Wanda grabbed the closest pillow, chucking it at Pietro. She hated how quick he could get under her nerves. It usually wouldn’t bother her, but then again, the topic is never really about Y/n. 

Wanda hardly ever spoke about Y/n at home or to any of her friends. Of course everyone of her college friends knew of Y/n, but they didn’t know. They didn’t know how badly Wanda thought of Y/n during freshman year of college. They didn’t know how much Wanda wanted to be friends with Y/n and that this stupid rivalry was the closest thing she could get. They didn’t know how much Y/n practically encourages her to be better, to be number one. They didn’t know - no one did. 

How could she even tell people? Hey, I have this weird rivalry with Y/n that keeps up every day and night. We’re not even friends though and I may secretly feel something about this. No matter how many times Wanda rehearsed it, talking about Y/n was just as challenging as all her honors classes, maybe even more. 

So while keeping it a secret did hurt, it was better this way. Because in some weird twisted way, Wanda loved that she was the only one that understood Y/n at this level, that no one else could understand Y/n like her, even if they tried. 

Regardless of how selfish it was, Wanda could not bear the idea of someone else challenging Y/n the same way she did. Because no matter how much she denied herself, Wanda’s thoughts revolve around Y/n. And God forbid, the idea of Y/n’s thought revolving around somebody else would kill her. 

‘Does she think about me?’ Wanda sat up, the bitter taste back in her mouth at the thought that maybe Y/n was into other people. ‘I’ve never heard her speak about anybody else before.’ But Wanda was smart. While Y/n may have never spoken directly to Wanda about crushes, she may secretly have one. ‘Oh God, does she have a partner?’

Before Wanda could panic about that, Pietro broke her out of her thoughts. “What are you going to do if Dad doesn’t give Y/n her scholarship back?” Pietro was never the type to get serious around his sister often. While he knew the time and place to fool around, this felt like uncharted territory. 

Of course Wanda had her fair share of partners in the past, a mix of boys and girls. But Y/n was different. Not in the way that Y/n captured Wanda’s mind, but in the way that Y/n was the only one mentioned by their father. No one else was ever worth being spoken by. So what made Y/n so different?

Wanda felt nervous under Pietro’s stare. This was the first time she ever really spoke about Y/n and the feeling in her chest was hard to ignore. The room felt hot, her anxiety was through the roof, and the answer was something she simply could not rush. 

“Would you think I’m overreacting if I said I would transfer?” Finally taking the courage to look at him, Pietro was stunned by Wanda’s answer. He, as well as any Maximoff, knew how important Evergreen University was for the family. Many generations of Maixmoffs have gone to Evergreen University. There is hardly a generation where you can’t pinpoint at least one Maximoff. 

So for Wanda to even entertain the idea of transferring meant the situation was bigger than he could ever imagine. 

“I think that…Y/n means something to you - clearly more than you care to let anyone know.” Rolling over to Wanda, Pietro offered a small smile. “And if her not going to Evergreen University affects you a lot, then I will personally try my best to help.” 

Pietro may not understand Wanda sometimes, but he certainly will always get her back. “Thanks Piet.” 

Getting up from his seat, he couldn’t help but comment, “Nice flannel.” 

Looking down, Wanda rolled her eyes, “You could just use your words and ask for it back.” 

Wanda took the flannel off. With her hand reached out, she tried giving it back to him. Confused by her comment, Pietro slowly grabbed the flannel and held it up. Quickly confirming his thoughts, he gently threw it back to Wanda. 

“That’s too small for me. Bummer that it’s not my size because I do like it.” Racking her brain, Wanda vividly remembered having it on when Pietro dragged her from the library one night. 

‘Was I the only one there?’ The night felt too far away to really remember, but the gut feeling she had couldn’t be ignored. ‘Who else would be there on a Saturday night?’ 

Pushing her thoughts away, Wanda dismissed Pietro, her thoughts still lingering on Y/n. 

“Can you tell me more about Y/n?” The siblings were eating breakfast outside prepared by the cook. Their parents were somewhere in town, enjoying company from school. 

“What do you want to know?” Pushing her plate away, Wanda overlooked the view from the backyard. A vast forest lay before them as well as acres of land, something that has been passed through many generations. 

“What makes her so important to you?” The question almost made Wanda scoff. It almost felt like a form of punishment having to fully confess to the world what she thought of Y/n. But the guilty feeling of denying what she felt about Y/n consumed her more. 

Why did she keep Y/n a secret from everybody? It’s not like Y/n was a bad person…but then again, why would Wanda want to share somebody like Y/n? Why would she share her?

“I…” There were multiple ways she could go about this. Wanda could downplay the whole thing hoping that Pietro would never ask again, but this was her brother. Pietro was a lot of things and stubborn was one of them.

Wanda sighed. Lying was going to get her nowhere, especially since Pietro vowed to help her out. “She drives me like no other.” Subconsciously, her hand goes back to her crystal, the one she rarely takes off. Not being able to see Y/n was torture and knowing next semester was still a major if caused even more pain. “It’s like finally finding the reason the world makes sense. I follow so many rules and orders from Mom and Dad that I hardly feel like I understand why things are the way they are. But with Y/n…” 

Looking at the sky filled with clouds, Wanda couldn’t help but try and feel like she was back at school. ‘Cause maybe she could somewhat feel like she was back with Y/n. 

“She makes me not hate the person Mom and Dad made me into. That being like this was a choice rather than something I was forced to do.” The pressure of being a Maximoff was tough, something only Pietro and some cousins knew. But at a very young age, more pressure was put on Wanda’s shoulders compared to Pietro’s. The two never really understood why but instead were forced to live with it. “She drives me to be better in ways that I would’ve never done on my own.” 

Looking back at Pietro, Wanda saw that he had this blank stare, like he wasn’t quite sure how to react. “She’s important because for the first time in my life…I quite like being smart. I like studying and going to class. I like being number one. I like me.” 

Quickly, her mind thinks back to the tournament and the awful letter written by Dean Holloway, and suddenly being number one was the last thing she wanted for herself. 

“She sounds remarkable.” Pietro finished his food, throwing Wanda a smile. 

Feeling herself blush from her confession, Wanda looked back down at the crystal. “Yeah…she is.” 

Sitting in his office, Eric Maximoff sat staring at the offer letter he had rewritten countless of times, the moment between him and his daughter replayed constantly as he made sure to perfect this offer.

Although he realized just how stubborn his daughter was, the threat that replayed in his mind was like no other. There was no tantrum, no screaming, and no begging. That was unlike any argument in the past. This ultimatum almost terrified him if it weren’t the power he held at Evergreen University. 

So while he may have hated the idea of bringing Y/n back, someone who could easily challenge Wanda’s place, he didn’t dare entertain the idea of her going to a different university. Something that would easily bring shame to the family.

The knock at his door brought him out of his thoughts. “Come in.” Slowly opening the door, Wanda entered timidly, unsure of the reason she was called. 

Beckoning her forward, he slipped the manila envelope towards the edge of the desk. Slowly, she took the envelope and grabbed the letter inside. 

“This will be mailed tomorrow first thing in the morning.” Wanda’s eyes widened at the words she was reading. Her mind reading faster than her eyes can go. 

Y/n Y/l/n,

On the behalf of Evergreen University, we would like to grant you your scholarship back in full. Much deliberation has been made on your behalf as we have realized the mistake that was made to revoke your scholarship. We do hope you take this letter as a sign of apology for this catastrophic mistake. 

Your scholarship will be found posted for your Fall Semester should you return back to Evergreen University. Please respond to this request on your attendance. We certainly hope to see you again. 

Eric Maximoff

President of Evergreen University 

Analyzing Wanda’s reaction, Eric could feel himself relax at the sight of Wanda’s smile. He didn’t have many close moments to his daughter, so this was certainly one that he wished to be on the right side of. 

“I will let you know when my staff receives word of her response.” This was more than what Wanda could have asked for. The feelings inside her could hardly be contained as she realized that her father explicitly wrote this letter and not Dean Holloway.

‘He cares.’ Looking back at Eric, Wanda didn’t want to wait all summer to know of Y/n’s response. Racking her mind, she spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“I want to see her.” Once again, there was that fire in her eyes. Something Eric had never seen before. “Let me be the one to deliver to her.” 

Freshman Year - Fall Semester 

“Hey Y/n!” A brunette sat by Y/n, someone that Wanda hardly remembered. Her overly enthusiastic attitude caught Wanda’s attention but the proximity between them held her focus. “Would you be able to tell me your address back home? Marketing majors are currently needing it to better research the upbring of our students and what possible trends we may be able to assume based on the data.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the load of bullshit that came out of that girl’s mouth. Why in the hell would a class require that much personal information? Like full on government address? It was a trick. But what pissed Wanda off more was the fact that Y/n was willing to give out her information like this. 

And although Wanda was mad, she couldn’t help but also write down Y/n’s address, in case she were to ever use it in the future. 

Wanda’s hand clenched and unclenched right before the door. Doubt paralyzed her body like never before. Her feet hadn’t moved in five minutes and by now, the sun was making her skin blaze with how long she had been there. 

Wanda Maximoff was petrified. While everything in her life usually stressed her out, something about this was different. Never in her life has something affected her this much. So as she stood right outside the Y/l/n home, she couldn’t help but think of all the what if’s. 

What if Y/n doesn’t want to speak with her? What if she doesn’t even care to open the envelope and continue to go to her home university? What if this whole thing was the most stupid idea on Earth? 

So before she could run away, act like this never happened, she closed her eyes and knocked on the door. 

Waiting on anybody to open up the door was grueling, but as Wanda backed away from the patio, she took a good look at the exterior of the house. With white and gray paneling, the house appeared to be a country style home that was right at the coast. The waves from the beach were crashing so loud, it almost sounded like it was in Y/n’s backyard. 

The drive was almost an hour away from the airport, but thankfully a money hungry cab was willing to take her but double the rate. The last major thing that Wanda noted was just how peaceful the house seemed. It wasn’t a mansion but by no means was the house small. 

There was a disconnected garage near the house as well as the nice front garden. Hardly any neighbors around and by the looks of it, the greenery coming from the forest across the road was a sight to see. 

All of it felt so odd. ‘Did Y/n actually grow up in a place like this?’

And as if the Devil called for her, the door opened wide. Wanda’s name was called by the very person she missed the most.

“Maximoff?” Slowly turning around, Wanda could feel her heart beat out of her chest. The carry-on bag she was holding suddenly felt too heavy and all she could focus on was, ‘Y/n wears glasses?’

They were simple square tortoise shell frames, yet something about them felt so innocent, like a child telling their best friend their first ever crush in life. Feeling herself blush, Wanda cleared her throat, almost forgetting why she was there. 

“Hey.” Nothing more could come out as Wanda continued to look at Y/n, her white shirt and sky blue striped shorts were harder to ignore. The cherry on top was the slightly messy hair. If Wanda could some up this whole moment, it was that Evergreen University robbed her of seeing this Y/n. And by all means, she wanted compensation. “Can I come in?” 

Regardless of how confused Y/n appeared to be, she still let Wanda in her home. The brunette could tell that her rival had a lot of questions yet didn’t want to be rude about it. Before the conversation could continue, the loud sound of heels strutting forward caught their attention. 

“Honey! I didn’t know you had guests.” Out came an older woman in business casual dress. Her face felt youthful but her eyes showed a lot of wisdom in them. Like a fish out of water, Wanda almost felt confused at the immediate hug that she was pulled into. “I’m Maria, Y/n’s Mom. And who must you be?” 

Wanda almost fainted at how quick Maria’s eyes were to analyze her. Hoping she wasn’t too underdressed, Wanda responded with, “I’m Wanda Maximoff, Y/n’s classmate.” 

Maria’s smile slightly faltered as she took a longer look at the girl in front of her. Suddenly, everything made sense to the older woman as she looked back to Y/n, almost trying to confirm if this was the girl. And Y/n hadn’t needed to even say a word, as her mother took the silent look in her eyes as the confirmation she needed.

“Oh dear, it’s finally nice to put a face around a familiar name.” Wanda refused to look at Y/n as she continued to make eye contact with Maria. The newfound knowledge that Y/n actually speaks about her to her parents was more than she could take. “I’m glad you’re finally able to visit us.”

“I hope I’m not intruding.” Maria clicked her tongue and led Wanda deeper into the house where the kitchen was. 

While Maria focused on getting fresh lemonade from the fridge, Wanda gravitated towards the view from the kitchen. The large windows that practically covered a large chunk of the wall showcased the backyard and all of its beauty. 

Correct with her assumptions, the house was exactly on the coast. It overlooked a large part of the ocean as well as the land that curved with it. From what she could tell, there seemed to be a pathway that led down to a dock with two boats anchored to it. 

“Here’s some fresh lemonade. You must be so exhausted from the flight and the drive.” Maria looked over at Y/n with a disapproving look. “You should’ve picked her up. You know better than to let guests drive from there.” 

“Oh no - this was a surprise ma’am. Y/n had no idea I was coming at all.” Maria looked over at the bag that Wanda was still carrying, motion for Y/n to grab it. 

“I’m assuming you’ll be staying here?” Wanda couldn’t tell if she was already over welcoming her stay. Reading Y/n’s expression was hard as her rival grabbed the carry on from her hands.

“Well-”

“Please, it would be an honor to have you here. The closest hotel is more than thirty minutes away unless you’ve rented a closer airbnb?” Wanda remembered the rentals nearby that offered one night stay at their detached suites. Unfortunately, the starting price was $1000.00 each night. Although her family could afford it, it was unreasonable to ask them to pay for such things. “So what do you say?” 

Wanda looked at Maria, her eyes were practically pleading for Wanda to stay but as she looked back at Y/n, she couldn’t understand what was behind those brown eyes. ‘Did she want me to stay?’ 

But before she could overthink, the slight nod Y/n gave made her smile. “I guess I have a hotel to cancel.” 

Maria squealed in delight as she grabbed her phone from the counter. “Don’t worry about that dear. I know the owner and they will be able to cancel for me. Why don’t you go ahead and settle into the guest room beside Y/n’s. How long will you be staying with us?” 

Before she could respond, Y/n finally spoke, “Two weeks. She’s going to be keeping me company while you and father go to New York.” Wanda didn’t know how it was possible but somehow, Maria’s smile grew even bigger. “Let’s go.” 

Giving a small wave towards Maria, Wanda followed behind Y/n, looking at the various walls that were decorated with family pictures. Feeling overwhelmingly alarmed by the lack of reaction from Y/n, Wanda was thinking of ways to explain her attendance. 

Was it better to go with the ‘I really want you to come back to Evergreen University for my sake because I miss you’ or ‘the University made a mistake and wants you back. They simply asked me to deliver it to you’? Regardless, no explanation or lie felt satisfactory. 

“Welcome to your room.” The door was slowly pushed open by the light coming from the backyard touched the hallway. With its warm glow, the sky blue room felt more comforting. As Wanda slowly walked in and marveled at the size of it, Y/n dropped the bag off at the luggage rack beside the dresser. 

Touching the wall the shiplaps, Wanda grew impressed at how clean everything was. “There’s a private bathroom at that door with a connecting closet. Any spare linens and towels you will need are in there. Plus, if you don’t have enough hygienic products, the drawers under the sink should provide enough options for you.” 

Y/n clicked her tongue, thinking of any other rules she needed to inform Wanda. “Since it will be just you and I, you don’t have to worry too much about how you dress. Everything in the house is free for you to tour around besides my parent’s room and my father’s office.” 

Y/n walked to the other side of the room, opening the glass door that pushed out, allowing the whole room to be open to the backyard. “We don’t really have bugs over here so if you want to have a nice breeze, just open the door like this. But at night, just remember to lock it up for security purposes.”

Y/n pulled the door back along its place causing a slight click when everything returned to normal. “I know you must be tired so I’ll let you get situated. In like three hours, I’ll take you out for dinner. Is ramen and sushi fine with you?” 

Wanda blushed at Y/n’s stare. Sure, there were countless times they’ve looked each other in the eye, but something about this felt new. Like they weren’t rivals but simply friends. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.” 

“Perfect. Let me take care of some things before my parents leave for their trip.” Y/n grabbed the door handle.

“Wait - Y/n,” Y/n looked back to Wanda, “thank you.” With a small smile, the brown eyed door closed the door allowing Wanda to finally relax. 

“How am I supposed to tell Mom and Dad that you decided to take an impromptu vacation at Y/n’s? I mean, didn’t you just get Dad to accept her coming back?” Pietro groaned over the phone, feeling unbelievably stressed at the situation his sister put him in. 

“You’ll figure out a way because you owe me. You know I wouldn’t do such a thing like this at all.” Wanda got off the bed as she hung up the wet towel on the hook. She looked up at the clock noticing that she had around thirty minutes left before Y/n would come to get her. 

“That’s what makes me worry. This isn’t like you. Usually you hate spontaneous things, always preferring to know what’s going to happen in the next month with as much detail as possible.” Wanda grabbed the blow dryer under the sink, preparing to end the conversation with Pietro. His opinions echoed loudly in the room as Wanda stood trying to figure out why she hadn’t spoken up to correct Y/n earlier. 

“I don’t know why…but it’s like Y/n brings out a different side of me. It comes with so much uncertainty that it scares me.” Looking over herself in the mirror, Wanda could predict just about everything in her life. To when she’ll probably get married, receive a nobel prize, build her dream house, and start a family, everything was just so calculated. “Like what if I make a fool of myself?”

Pietro was silent for a second, knowing his words would have a deep impact on Wanda. With a sigh, he said, “Wands…I honestly do hope you make a fool of yourself. Because you’ll be one step closer to realizing that the unpredictable part of life is what makes the stress and worries so much more worth it.” 

There was a knock on the other side of the door. Pietro had covered the phone and yelled, “Coming!” 

“Look, I gotta go. I think Mom and Dad are wanting to get dinner outside. I’ll let them know about the change of plans. Just keep me updated, okay?” 

“I will. Bye Piet, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“I’m not getting in that thing.” Wanda stood outside the garage, the contraption that Y/n called a car by no means looked safe to even drive. 

“Maximoff, I promise it’s safe. Plus, it’s a small town meaning less likely for crashes and hardly a long driving time.” Y/n leaned up against the driver’s side. The cocky smile on her face made Wanda blush. 

“For God’s sake, it doesn’t have doors.” Wanda pointed out, hoping that Y/n would want to use the car beside it. 

“It’s a Jeep, Maximoff. That’s the whole point.” Y/n hopped in the car and put the key in the ignition. Soon, the roar of the engine and the bright lights came on. Rolling forward, Y/n stopped right beside Wanda. 

With her right arm behind the passenger seat, the messy beach curls in her hair, Wanda could’ve sworn that she was at the wrong place. Because where did the Y/n from Evergreen University go? The one that would stay in the library just as long as she did. The one that was just as focused on academics as she was. 

Because never would she have imagined that this would be the same Y/n. The one that feels like academics is just a side thing in her life. ‘Did our competition rob me of seeing the real you?’ 

“Please don’t make me drag you into this. I’ll even grab my motorcycle helmet-”

“You have a motorcycle?!” There Y/n goes again, with her ever loving cocky smile. Like she knew that Wanda was scared and was enjoying it. And if this is what Y/n looked like with a little bit of confidence, imagine what a lot would do. 

“Look, we can ride that on a different day. Now for the love of God Maximoff, please get in the car and let me take you out to eat.” 

Looking into those brown eyes, Wanda could only think one thing, ‘How could I ever deny her?’

So as much as she reluctantly wanted to get in, she took a deep breath and hopped inside. “If we crash, you owe me your life, Y/l/n.”  

True to Y/n’s word, the town was close. One minute, the curves of the roads were surrounded with a vast forest. The alpine smell constantly surrounded them. Feeling the wind through her hands, Wanda almost missed the second that the coast came back. 

“Maximoff, look.” The sun sprawled on their skin with its last minutes in the sky. It was as if the sun demanded to be looked at with its blend of colors. And as they go back through a row of trees that arched over the road, Wanda couldn’t help but be entranced by it all. 

And at the very last mile of the route, right at the opposite side was the coast. Capturing Wanda's attention, she didn’t dare to focus on how close the car was to the guard rail, only trusting the fact that Y/n would never crash. Instead, Wanda focused on how at this very moment, her and Y/n shared the same view and the same admiration for the role. And that was enterally hers. 

It wasn’t until Y/n pulled into the parking lot of the ramen and sushi place that she realized the ride was over. The coast was still perfectly in view and appeared to be around a 5-10 minute walk. If she wasn’t so hungry, Wanda would have almost asked to ditch the restaurant and just sit at the beach. 

So as they walked inside, the brunette simply hoped that on some other day, they could have that talk on the beach. But for now, the food sounded amazing. 

“Booth for two please.” Wanda stood close behind Y/n as the waitress looked at Wanda with almost a surprised look. 

“Follow me this way, Y/n.” The restaurant was small in size but was filled with a lot of character. On the main side of the restaurant was a large counter that had an up close view of the chef’s making the sushi. Right on the opposite side were small booths that could fit a family of four. However, that was all the space the restaurant had. 

Seated at the back left corner, the waitress walked away to get their complimentary entrees and water. “So, what do you think? I know it’s rather small but I promise, the food is absolutely amazing. My family knows the chef personally and he makes the best everytime.” 

“It seems like your family knows a lot of people. First the local hotel manager and now the head chef of this business.”  Wanda lightly joked as the shrimp tempura and miso soup was placed between them. 

“Are you two ready to order?” Grabbing her pen and pad, the waitress mainly looked at Y/n for approval. Although there was no inkling that the girl was interested in Y/n, the sour thoughts of it made Wanda slightly frown. 

“Hey Chelsea, can we actually get my usual and can you add the tonkotsu ramen?” Chelsea flashed a pretty smile as she collected the menus, knowing it was rather pointless to have even set them out. 

“Sure thing. We’ll have that right up for you.” Y/n smiled back as she focused back on Wanda. “Sorry about that. But yeah, my family is pretty connected with the town. I think how small the population is, everyone's parents had known each other from high school. And I guess it’s the same with me. Majority of the people I grew up with either stay or leave for a bigger city.” 

“What about you? Are you wanting to leave this place?” Y/n thought it over as she finally grabbed her own boul to pour some miso soup. 

“I’ve thought about it. Leave the town for a couple years. See what it’s like out there. But I know myself. I’ll probably end up coming back here.” Blowing on the spoon, Y/n took her first sip, enjoying the rich flavor of it. 

“Coming back to a place like this must be nice. While I do love my home, something about your little part of Earth has honestly got me jealous.” Y/n smirked, enjoying the fact that Wanda loved her hometown already. 

“Life out here feels a bit more simple. Don’t get me wrong though, I do like what Evergreen does bring me.” 

Placing her hand under her chin, Wanda leaned closer, wanting to hear more about Y/n’s thoughts. “What does Evergreen have that this place doesn’t?” 

Was it delusional to think that maybe Y/n would have said ‘you’ at that very moment? Was it so wrong to want that? Because Wanda couldn’t help but feel that way as she waited for Y/n’s answer. And maybe she would have been satisfied hearing anything if it weren’t for another interruption. 

“Here is your food. One sushi platter with a side of edamame for Y/n. And one tonkotsu ramen for you.” Sliding the hot food on the table, Wanda’s appetite suddenly grew large at the ramen in front of her. 

“If you need anything else, please let me know.” Not bothering to wait for the food to slightly cool, Wanda began eating, immediately enjoying Y/n’s choice of ramen.

“I know I should be concerned about how you found me,” with cheeks stuffed with sushi, Y/n covered her mouth as she spoke with her mouth full, “but I really don’t care. You have your ways considering you are a Maximoff.”

Swallowing the food, Y/n wiped her face almost full from all the sushi and ramen they had ordered. “But what I do care about is why you decided to come?” Y/n leaned forward as she stared directly into Wanda’s eyes. “It’s a pretty long flight. Not only that, I know you live around an hour or two from Evergreen. So you coming here was not some mere coincidence.” 

Sometimes Wanda hated how smart Y/n was and in this very moment, she absolutely despised it. If it weren’t for the somewhat dark atmosphere of the restaurant, Wanda was certain that Y/n would see how nervous she was.

Stuffing more noodles in her mouth, Wanda avoided looking at Y/n, unsure of how to bring up the manila envelope sitting in her room. ‘Would she be mad to find out that I didn’t come here originally to hang out?’

Leaning back in her seat, Y/n grabbed the last piece of her sushi. While pointing the food at Wanda, Y/n said, “Well, regardless of that…I do know that I want you to stay…especially since you’ve gone through the trouble of seeing me.” 

Growing up, Wanda hardly grew up with reassurance. Maybe it was because she didn’t really need reassurance. After all, her confidence in her calculated life was what gave her reassurance. So as she stared at the ceiling, unable to get over their conversation at the restaurant, Wanda realized that she craved reassurance. 

To be wanted by Y/n felt overwhelming in so many ways. But as her heart beated in rapid ways, she couldn’t help but keep the confession close to her mind and heart. To forever remember it. Because why did it feel so nice to be wanted? Why did something so casually stated have such an impact on her? 

Getting up from her bed, Wanda’s thoughts drifted to Y/n again, wondering if she over thought about things too. ‘Has she ever replayed moments of us in her head?’ 

Shaking her head, Wanda didn’t dare to go to that territory at this time. Already unable to sleep, she slowly opened the door and walked to the kitchen. Looking through the cabinets, she finally was able to find the glass cups. Taking one, she filled it with tap water as she stared at the ocean and the moon.

However, the glow from the firepit caught her eye. Feeling the need to see it closer, Wanda walked to the door and entered the backyard. The stone steps led to the middle of the backyard where the firepit was placed. But as Wanda purposely stepped on the grass, she couldn’t believe how soft it was. 

Trekking through the grass, Wanda could see Y/n’s outline sitting at one of the chairs. Once she was close enough, she spoke up and said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Wanda sat at the free chair that was beside Y/n, enjoying the warmth that the firepit had provided. “A little bit. How about you? Missing home already?” 

The ocean was loud at night, but something about the way it was crashing up against the shore felt relaxing, almost lulling her to sleep. “My mind feels…busy. Can’t sleep with too many thoughts running around.” 

“I see…even when the summer is here, your mind stays thinking.” 

‘Yeah, but it hasn’t stopped thinking about you.’ Feeling too vulnerable to admit her own thoughts, Wand focused on the fire infront of her. 

Letting the silence surround them, the breeze from the ocean and the crackle from the fire pit comforted the two as they sat in their own thoughts. The sounds of nature almost made Wanda’s mind grow silent, like this was the medicine it needed. 

But silence could only go on for so long before Wanda grew curious. “I never knew you grew up in a place like this.”

“Well, you never really asked.” Wanda chuckled. This was the Y/n she knew. The one that was always quick witted. 

“Well, with a place like this, you must have grown up doing a water sport.” Wanda twisted her position to lay on her side, hoping to make eye contact with Y/n. 

“I didn’t do sports really growing up. They only offered the typical stuff like soccer and basketball. I was mainly interested in kayaking and water rafting from an early age.” Y/n looked over at Wanda and smiled. It was a nice feeling to just talk to each other without the constant bickering about school. “But in highschool, they offered a sailing team and I decided to join. Ever since then, it’s been a big hobby of mine.”

Pointing over at the boats, Y/n continued, “You see that sail boat right there? That one is mine.” Looking over at the dock, Wanda could easily see the all white sailboat.

“Jeez, she’s really pretty. And almost as huge as your ego.” Y/n scoffed at Wanda’s quick jab, but the smile on her face persisted. “Who taught you all of this though? Did you have a coach growing up?” There was a small twitch in Y/n’s smile that Wanda caught. Almost wanting to apologize, she waited for Y/n to speak. 

“My father taught me everything about the ocean. That’s actually part of what his business is in. So from fishing, boating, sailing, kayaking, he taught me.” There was a slight pause as Y/n looked out at the ocean, almost like she was missing the simpler times. But within a second, the smile was back on her face as she looked back at Wanda. 

“How come you didn’t major in something like this? It seems like it’s your calling compared to your double major of computer engineering and accounting.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders almost in a ‘it’s pretty obvious’ manner. 

“I do like my majors, but don’t ever mention to my father that I’m in accounting. He doesn’t really need to know that.” Wanda zipped her lips and threw the key away causing Y/n’s smile to further widen. “But I guess I wanted to keep this part of my life as a hobby…I see what it does to people when you suddenly turn a passion into a job…and it’s not the best.”

Sitting up from her seat, Y/n sat at the edge facing Wanda. “I want this part of me to be part of the reason that I need a well paying job. So that way I can support all the hobbies that come with loving the ocean. Because there’s one thing I truly love more than anything in the world and it’s being out there.” 

Reaching her hand out, Y/n got up with an excited look on her face. “Let me show you something.” 

Wanda ignored the feeling in her chest as she grabbed Y/n’s hand. She was led down further down the backyard and down the stairs and on to the dock, hand’s never breaking apart. 

Leading the way to her sailboat, Y/n helped Wanda climb up the ladder and onto the deck. “Meet my precious boat Halfway.” 

Wanda smiled in confusion of the name. “Halfway? Why that name?” The name was odd, but just like another secret, Wanda stashed it in her mind for safe keeping. 

“Stay a while and you’ll know. But you said you were unable to sleep, right?” Wanda nodded in agreement causing Y/n to go into the cabin. 

Following her inside, Wanda could barely see what was in the room with how dark it was. She did see Y/n turn on the heater as well as climb on the queen sized bed that was at the end of the room. Popping open the hatch, the light from the moon suddenly beamed into the cabin. 

“Welcome to the best sleep you’ll ever have.” Wanda had a ridiculous look on her face as she waited for Y/n to say this was a joke. But as her rival continued to smile, she knew it was serious. 

“Is this even safe?” Y/n groaned at Wanda’s apprehensiveness and pulled her closer to the bed. 

“We are currently docked so there’s no way for us to be pulled to sea. Plus, even if we were, I know how to get us back home.” Seeing Wanda’s relucantat face caused Y/n to get closer, to better plead her case. “But Maximoff you have to try it. Otherwise, you’ll always think that sleeping on land is the best thing when in fact, it’s not.” 

Wanda thought of multiple assumptions or facts as to why Y/n’s statement was in fact wrong. Getting the ‘best’ sleep was opinionated. Plus, the meer movement of the ocean would probably cause someone to get seasick during their sleep. Not only that, would bugs get in? 

The thoughts in her head spiral, but the more the moon shone into those brown eyes, she knew she couldn’t resist. 

So with a sigh, Wanda asked, “Can this fit even fit the both of us?”

“It can definitely fit the both of us. Plus, I’ll put a pillow in between incase I accidentally get too close at night.” 

Wanda started to blush again at the thought of cuddling Y/n. “If I wake up cranky, I’m blaming you Y/l/n.”

“And if I’m right, you’ll have to go kayaking with me.” Unable to back down from a deal, Wanda smirked, the same way she did back at Evergreen. 

“Deal.” 

Chapter 5

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[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

Love Won't Save Us

A/N: Sorry this took so long!

Warnings: Angst & I did not proof read

Word Count: 1.3k

Request: I saw you’re taking Cassian requests 👀 May I please get “ Don’t you see that there are people who care about you? That I care about?” + “I can’t lose you again! Please, don’t make me lose you again.” with lots of angst please and thank you!

Thump thump.

Thump thump. 

Thump thump.  

An endless rhythm of your heart as it pounded through your ears. You were cornered. You thought you had been playing this smart - thought out every possible scenario - everything that could go wrong. Still, you ended up here. 

Your leg was screaming at you. It had been grazed by a blaster shot. Gritting your teeth you tried your best to shift your weight on it. You didn’t have time to dress it - you didn’t have time to do anything but lean against the literal and metaphorical wall that you were pinned against.

Imperial troopers were beginning to close in on you. You took a steadying breath checking your blaster. Your thoughts veering towards Cassian. 

Cassian. 

You should have listened - been less stubborn. Instead you were here. 

You wanted to save him. That’s all you had wanted to do. Save him from what was about to happen to you. You blink roughly as tears start to form in your eyes. Your mind reeling to the last conversation you had with him. That is how he would remember you. Angry, bitter, careless. Maker, the look on his face. 

Your breath left your lungs as a blast threw you against a wall. You let out a shuddering gasp. 

There was only one last word you wanted to speak as blood came dripping out of your mouth. 

“Cass-” 

--------------------------------------------------------------

“When were you planning on telling me?” 

You didn’t need to look up to know Cassian was standing behind you, agitation dripping out of his voice. 

“I wasn’t”, you said simply as you finished putting on your boots. 

You could hear Cassian let out a huff as you turned around. His eyebrows were furrowed, arms crossed. He looked more annoyed and stressed than you had ever seen him. 

“You can’t do this,” he gritted out. “It’s a suicide mission. Let me-” 

“No.” The word left your mouth firmly. You stood your ground, your eyes not wavering from his. “I have to do this alone. It’s the only way.” 

“No- it’s not.” Cassian took a step towards you, but you took a step back. You may as well have slapped him from the expression on his face. 

“It is.” You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “Mon Mothma asked specifically because I am capable. I am expendable. And you, Cassian? You’re not. They need you.” 

“What? What are you talking about? You can’t believe that.” Cassian’s voice grew heated with every word. “Don’t you know? There are people here who care about you.” 

“They’ll get over it.” You shrugged off, trying to make your way to the door. Cassian blocked your path standing directly in front of you. 

“How can you say these things?” He was grabbing your shoulders now, his fingers digging into them so harshly you were sure you would bruise. You could only stare at him dumbly. “You matter,” he took a breath, “you matter to me.” 

You weren’t sure what to say. You could only stare at him, his brown eyes meeting yours in a desperate plea. 

“Please,” he whispered, “don’t do this alone. We can do this together.” His hands left your shoulders and now cradled your face softly. His thumbs running along your cheeks. “I need you. I -” 

You stilled his hands and removed them from your face. “You’ll be okay, Cassian. Whatever it is you think you feel for me will pass. It’s fleeting.” You passed him towards the door. 

“I love you.” 

You paused in front of the door. 

“I love you. That won’t pass.” 

You fought every urge to turn around. Tears had already begun to fall. You swallowed, “I don’t love you.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Love won’t save us”, you replied. You turned your head to the side, eyes downcast, “Goodbye, Cassian.” 

You walked through the door, feeling it close behind you. You wouldn't break - not now. You had to see this through. 

You briskly walked through the halls of the base, rounding the corner you ran into Mon Mothma. 

“Lieutenant,” her expression was soft, full of concern. “Are you sure you want to go this alone? I’m sure Andor would be more than willing to join you. I still think the two of you would be able to get the job done.” 

“No, thank you.” You smiled at her the best you could. 

She nodded back. “Good luck, Lieutenant.” 

You waited until you could hear her footsteps drift away, before you let out a shaky breath. 

“I was not aware Cassian was supposed to join you on the mission.” 

Your eyes widened. 

“K-2, you can’t tell him.” You said desperately. Your eyes turning towards the droid. 

“You have a higher success rate if Cassian joins you. You only have a likelihood of 15.25% of success without-” 

“No. No he can’t come and you can’t tell him.” The droid merely looked at you. “You want to keep him safe right? That’s all I want. You can’t tell him - he can never know. Promise me, K-2.”

“I-”

“Promise me.” 

“Very well. Cassian will not know.” 

“Thank you,” you let out a shaky breath. “Keep him safe for me, will you?” 

“You are awfully demanding today.” 

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at the droid. 

“But I will look after him.” 

“Goodbye, K-2.” You didn’t wait for a reply before walking off. You headed towards the direction of your ship. You only needed to get much imperial codes. Something you had done countless times before. This time felt different. You knew it. It was why you had to do this alone. 

It was selfish and stupid, but you couldn’t lose him. You loved Cassian. You would keep him safe, even if it killed you. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

Smoke filled your lungs as you struggled to drag yourself towards cover. Blood coated your mouth, but you wouldn’t give up. If this was really it, you wouldn’t go down without a fight. You blaster had been flung from your hands but you could see it just ahead. 

You let out a grunt as you narrowly escaped being hit with a blaster. Reaching out, your fingers grazed your blaster. Desperately, you reached for it as the sound of troopers grew nearer. 

Grabbing hold of your blaster, you flipped onto your back and fired away. You managed to hit two imperial troopers, still more troopers began to file in. 

Gritting your teeth, you prepared yourself. 

Through the smoke you could see the troopers turn around, distracted by something. Yelling and blaster fire surrounded the area until it became eerily quiet. 

Your arm was shaking from pain as you held your blaster up. You couldn’t see anything. 

A tall figure came closer to you, you gripped your blaster tightly. 

You let out a ragged breath, your eyes growing wide. 

“You promised-” you choked out. 

K-2SO stood clearly in front of you, Cassian running behind him to you. 

“You asked me to protect Cassian. By saving you, I save him.” 

You were left dumbstruck. Cassian slides down next to you, his eyes searching your body for your worst injuries. 

“Cassian,” you started, but the fierceness in his gaze stopped you.  

“You lied to me,” he bit out. 

“I did,” you hissed as his hands checked your leg wound. 

“We were supposed to come together.” 

“We were,” you breathed out. 

“You love me.” 

Your eyes met his, his brown eyes filled with worry. “I do. I love you, Cassian.” 

He pulled you close to him, holding you tightly as if you might disappear. “I can’t lose you,” his voice broke. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.” 

“We do this together,” he said firmly. “We get through this together.” 

 You could feel Cassian let out a small laugh. “I guess love did save you.” 

For now, you thought. You held onto Cassian and the thought of being together. That had to be enough for now.