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nikkeora · 1 year ago

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For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

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randomshyperson · 1 year ago

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Shameless - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The book club forces Wanda to go to a bookstore in downtown Westview, where she meets you. Or the one where Wanda tries a new hobby and finds a reason to end her marriage.

Warnings: (+16), some dirty implications but nothing explicit, mentions of make-out, no cheating (but intent), strangers to lovers, milf-horny wanda, compulsory heterosexuality and mentions of homophobia, an attempt at the 80s scene, some angst but a happy ending. | Words: 7.525k

A/N-> I don’t know where this came from.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

The book club had been Agatha's idea.

A harmless little pastime is how she would describe it during the weekly community meeting. Some short and simple speech about how modern housewives needed distractions while their husbands were at work and the kids were at school, anything that would please the ears of the preacher and the town council enough for the men to ignore the remnants of card games or bottles of alcohol that appeared whenever Agatha organized any “ladies' meetings” - as she liked to describe it.

Wanda and almost all the other women were happy to participate - and that is, almost all of them since Dorothy had not joined anything Agatha was involved in for two years now, ever since the blonde refused to visit the nightclub that was inaugurated downtown, commenting that it was not a suitable place for family ladies, and in Wanda's opinion, missing out on one of the most fun evenings she had ever had.

This time, Agatha's new invention was weekly meetings of a book club, which for the older woman, was the perfect excuse to get away from her husband Ralph and his strong odor of cheap beer and their grumpy son who apparently didn't know how to take glasses to the sink. Two hours a week to stay off chores and focus on her friends, and as a bonus, to read and discuss the literature she would have had access to if higher education was something women were encouraged to earn.

Wanda was one of the few in the quiet Westview who had a degree - It had been a shared dream of her and her mother Natalya, who wished to see both her children off to college and it was a fortunate thing that it happened before her sad passing. The most unfair thing about that was that despite her mother's wishes for Wanda’s independence, once Natalya was gone, all that Erik did was encourage her to leave college and look for a husband, the last of which Wanda eventually gave in to in her senior year. Jarvis Vision Stark was a couple of years older than her and was completing his degree in Engineering, and to almost everyone in her class, that had to be true love. He was a good-looking young man, with a good family and education, and he seemed so in love with her. With that in mind, Wanda tried to love Vision with the same intensity that he said he did, but with the passing of the years, and the arrival of the children, the fantasy dissolved into a boring routine and conformism.

Despite those issues, her twins, Billy and Tommy, were her most precious treasure. And they were also the only thing keeping her marriage on track, Wanda dared to think.

Getting a divorce, in the traditional Christian-Jewish community of Westview, would be a scandal under any circumstances. Sometimes, when she ventured to imagine being someone with this kind of courage, Wanda could only imagine the look of disappointment on her father's face when he heard the news, and the thought was soon shoved away like dirty clothes in the washing machine.

At least Wanda had Agatha. Her long-time, trusting friend, with whom she could share torments like this, and complain about slack-jawed, obstinate husbands.

And there was also now the book club.

Westview only had one library close to home, and well, Agatha had been clear in her instructions. No cheap or religious literature, she warned with a cigarette between her lips, gesturing with one hand when one of the girls asked about what the first meeting would be like.

"Bring something interesting." Agatha suddenly gave a little smile, the same kind when she managed to bring a bottle of liquor hidden away for the Saturday church service. "Scandalous, if you dare."

They all sighed in surprise, complicit for the whole thing. Some began to whisper among themselves, but Wanda knew what she would have to do. There was nothing of the sort in Westview, so she would have to leave the residential neighborhood.

She woke up on Tuesday, dropped the kids off at school, and made breakfast. for Vision, who didn't even bother to say thank you, not happy to hear that Wanda was going out, but courteous enough to offer her a ride, which she declined almost immediately. She had the distinct impression that it was a way of being monitored, and she couldn't bear to deal with it when she was already so nervous.

Taking the bus downtown, she went straight to the new commercial village of Westview. She caught a glimpse of some neighbors, who worked in the local shops but didn't say hello to any of them.

She walked until she found a bookstore, a small, old building with carts full of books at the door and advertisements that, although scattered and colorful, were easy to understand. It was a very cozy place, which made Wanda smile for a quick fantasy about having tried to work with books after her graduation if she hadn't been pregnant at the time.

A bell rang when she entered, but no one greeted her for the first few minutes she was inside. It gave her just enough time to go to one of the nearest bookshelves and run her fingers through the rows of books, a smile playing on her lips.

"Didn't you hear the door, Pchelka (little bee)?" A voice caught her attention, and Wanda turned, trying to see between the shelves. At a glance, short, red hair attracted her eye, and she blinked to find the face of a very pretty woman offering her a gentle smile. "One minute, sweetheart. We'll be right with you."

Wanda opened her mouth to say she wasn't in a hurry, sympathetic to the number of books the redhead was carrying, but in the next second, the woman disappeared between the columns and she didn’t have a chance to say anything at all.

The bookstore remained empty and silent for another half minute, but once Wanda made mention of turning her attention back to the books behind her, a ladder opened from the ceiling, and out of it jumped a figure in an apron, and out of instinct, Wanda hopped away.

"So sorry for the scare, Miss." You apologized with a soft chuckle at the scene, closing the attic in a single motion and running your hands through your hair and shoulders in an effort to blow off some of the dust. "We are reviewing the inventory. How can I be of assistance?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the image of your gentle and playful smile. She felt so foolish. In all her 32 years, when was the last time she had been tongue-tied, if ever?

You raised one of your eyebrows, and repeated the question, bringing a new color to her cheeks. Wanda broke into a clumsy giggle at the same second.

"Sorry, you caught me by surprise." She managed to cover it up, adjusting a lock of her hair and then moving her hands to smooth her clothes, suddenly unsure what to do with herself. "I’m…looking for a book."

You cracked another smile, finding the scene quite amusing. This older, breathtaking woman, all shy and adorable around you. "Well, we have lots of those." You teased, and Wanda felt her stomach do a complete turn at the sound of your raspy giggle. Maybe she was getting sick. Yeah, that would explain her body’s out-of-control reactions. "What are you looking for, or perhaps a name...?"

"Wanda." She interrupts, and you frown in confusion. Taking a deep breath, she holds out her hand. "I am Wanda Maximoff."

Despite the strangeness of the moment and the fact that she didn't understand that you wanted the name of the book and not hers, you smiled warmly and repeated the gesture. Wanda has never hated work gloves as she does now, a curiosity burning to know what your skin would feel like on hers, the thought bringing such a strong color to her ears that she needs to look away immediately, barely catching the name that you mention next.

She clears her throat, and adds: "I'm actually joining a book club and the only guidance we had was to bring something interesting." And she risks looking you in the eye to add. "Scandalous."

You find it funny, even adorable if you could put it that way. Maybe it's because of the color of her face when she says it. Or maybe it's because these college students - Wanda judges you to be one for your apparent age - are more modern than she would have been and don't bother with this sort of subject.

"Hm, I think I can help with that." You retort with a thoughtful expression, beckoning for Wanda to follow you deeper into the store and she does so only after taking a deep breath.

The columns of poetry make her bite her lip in curiosity, some of the names Wanda recognizes from her own years as a student, but it is only when you are in the last aisle with the little gold plaque labeled "Sapphic Literature" that Wanda thinks she has stopped breathing.

You do everything very calmly. Climbing up one of the stairs, and taking some time to read the titles, you take a small book from one of the higher shelves and walk back to Wanda, whose face is almost Natasha's hair color now.

With a smile, you hold out the book, but don't let go, holding the item as she does.

"There's nothing more scandalous than this for a small town like Westview." You say. "But if it's too much, Miss Maximoff, I can always suggest something different. You know, like stuff about the first war or Russian philosophy..."

"N-no, this is fine." She interrupts you, grabbing the book strongly and pulling it close to her chest. You don't know if she's trying to hide it or keep it from fleeing, but it makes you chuckle. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." You reply, studying that face for a moment. Wanda swallows dry but holds your gaze. You clear your throat as soon as you realize you're staring. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She almost sighs, her knees going weak at just the line her thoughts take. Shaking her head, she offers you a small smile. "No, that will be all." She says and practically runs off to the edge of the store, back to the cashier.

The redheaded woman is taking care of the payment now, and Wanda doesn't notice the look you exchange with her because she's too busy sensing your presence coming behind her.

"Excuse me, Miss Maximoff, let me wrap this up for you." Your whisper near her ear makes her shudder from head to toe, and it is fortunate that you grab the book from her as Wanda is sure she would have dropped it on the floor.

You walking away is the only reason Wanda's legs stop shaking.

"Good choice, ma'am." Commented the attendant as soon as you put the book on the counter to be scanned. Wanda noticed the small badge spelled out in silver letters "Natasha" stuck to her apron. "We are also fond of sapphic literature around here." She added with a complicit smile. Wanda didn't understand why it seemed like a code for something, she was too distracted by the movements of your hands storing the book in a pretty bag. She remembers forcing a smile, paying with trembling fingers and practically running out of the bookstore, feeling your gaze burning into her back.

The bell made another noise on the way out, and with the bookstore empty, Natasha's laughter filled the air.

"How do you always find our people?" Questioned the other impressed, but you laughed short, shrugging.

"I won't deny that I have this ability, but in this case, how can you say? You saw her for like, three seconds."

Natasha shook her head, checking the cashier. "Oh, please, she was eye-fucking you this whole three seconds.” Declared the redhead, ignoring your protest at her choice of words. "Besides, it's kind of obvious by her not freaking out over sapphic poetry, isn't it?"

You sigh, somewhat disbelieving. "I don't know, people are more friendly nowadays." You try, but Natasha gestures away as if she doesn't agree.

"Your problem is that you're too naive, Parker." Retorted the redhead with an amused expression. "Women like me, experienced not old, are not so friendly. We come from different times, different generations. You couldn't go around reading gay literature anywhere, hardly found any to be fair. If she wasn't like us, she would have caused a scene at the mere suggestion."

"Alright, Romanoff, I believe you." You grumbled begrudgingly while grabbing one of the last boxes to be checked off the desk. "But that doesn't mean she was interested in me." You stated, but Nat snorted incredulously.

"I bet you five bucks she'll be back next week!" Retorted the redhead, but you only chuckled, letting her increase the bet as the distance grew.

-&-

A tense silence grew with every second in the crowded room.

Wanda sat there, almost not breathing until she finally realized what she had just done. Read. The room began to spin next. She gripped the pages hard enough to wreck the book in her lap, but just as panic was about to overwhelm her, someone sighed loudly.

"Well, that was definitely scandalous." It was Monica, and the good humor of the comment made the room explode into little giggles.

The girls began commenting among themselves excitedly in the same second, some still somewhat hesitant and embarrassed, but definitely thrilled about the whole thing. Wanda felt a gentle hand on the back of her back, through the exposed part of the plastic chair.

"Just breathe, Wanda, everything's fine." It was Agatha, who was still sitting next to her. Who didn't hate her for reading a passage from Emily Dickinson in the middle of the book club, who was still her best friend. Wanda only managed to mumble a weak, whiny yes, and Agatha looked at her with concern before announcing to the entire room that they would take a break before the next reading. Wanda doesn't remember getting up, but she didn't breathe normally again until on the outside balcony of the Harkness Residence. "Here, honey."

The glass of water helped, and Wanda had just returned it to Agatha when the window door opened again. It was Monica, with an almost proud smile, who spoke only after sliding the glass door closed again.

"I have to say, Wanda, you have guts." Her friend joked, and Wanda grimaced.

"What...?"

"I didn't know there were more of us in Westview, Aggie. You could have told me." Monica complained to the older woman, giving Agatha's arm a gentle pat. But the woman just smiled awkwardly, looking at Wanda as if she were seeing her for the first time.

"She never mentioned it, I'm afraid." Agatha commented, and Wanda felt like she might throw up at any moment. "Hey, breathe honey. It's okay, all right? You're safe with us."

But Wanda put a hand over her chest, feeling it tighten. "My god, what I just did... They will tell my husband... my father will hear about it-"

"Hey, Wanda, here. Focus on me, darling, breathe." Agatha grabbed her hands, trying to help her control the panic and tears that began to roll down her face. "Honey, it was just a poem. Nothing is going to happen, okay, you just brought what I asked for, and none of them minded. Nothing has changed, now breathe. You're safe, Wanda."

“Of course, I would ruin the book club.” was the first thought she had hours later when she woke up before the time to pick the boys up from soccer. She didn't have to do it though - Agatha left a little note saying that she had taken care of everything and wished her rest.

Monica drove her home so that Agatha could close the meeting without raising any more suspicions about Maximoff's state, who had had a panic attack because of a poem read aloud. If the other neighbors knew, it would create chatter, and Wanda simply couldn't handle that.

Monica left her safe and sound in her house, wrapped in blankets, and didn't mind staying until Wanda cried herself to sleep. And Wanda woke up alone, feeling worse than before as if a very embarrassing secret had been revealed to the world and was mocking her outside the bedroom walls.

But her children were back in no time, and as they rushed to the shower, she went to thank a very concerned Agatha Harkness.

"Are you feeling better, sweetheart?" Asked her friend gently holding her arm. Wanda didn't meet her eyes, nodding.

"Thank you for dropping the boys off." Murmured her quietly, swallowing before adding. "And for earlier. I didn't mean to bring any trouble."

Agatha gripped her with more determination. "Listen here, Wanda, it was no trouble at all, okay?" Assured the woman, who although in a serious tone, still had very gentle eyes. "You are my best friend, Wanda Maximoff. Nothing will ever change the care and love I feel for you. When you're ready to talk about today, about this part of you, I'll be here. And Monica too. You are not alone, honey. You never have been." There was a different complicity in the last sentence, but Wanda only sighed in relief, nodding and finally relaxing when Agatha hugged her.

She thanked her again between silent tears and Agatha only left when she was sure Wanda believed her words.

-&-

It took Wanda three weeks to return to the store. Not that you were counting, or thinking every day about the middle-aged woman who had a gay panic attack with your poor attempt at service. Not that Natasha didn't shut up about it.

And as luck would have it, you were alone in the store because your boss, who you also called a friend, was out picking up some orders and her sister at the University of New York, and well, it had been a slow day until the doorbell rang in the early afternoon and it was Wanda.

"You again." That was the first you managed to say, almost sighing and hating how affected it sounded. Luckily, Wanda seemed equally happy and relieved to see you again.

"Hello." She greeted, repeating last week's gesture of adjusting a lock of her hair. She looked different from before, more elegant, with a dark jeans jacket expensive enough to have come out of a magazine, and a dress underneath that made you swallow dry.

You had no idea how long she spent in front of the mirror trying to choose the right outfit with two neighbors weighing her choices.

Trying to play it cool and sound as casual as possible, you add: "Wanda Maximoff from the book club, right? Did they like the poems?"

She hesitated in a nervous smile, looking around as if to check if there were no other customers and satisfied with the distant presence of a boy in the Vinyl's Discs area and a lady further down the hall, as she practically whispered, "You were right. It was scandalous enough for Westview." She teased, managing to get a short laugh out of you that made her stomach do flips and her cheeks turn a rosy hue. It was decided, she wanted to hear the sound again and would do anything to be the one to make you laugh.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." You retort with a little smile. "I hope you enjoyed the book too, though." Your addiction makes Wanda's heart skip a beat. So you cared if she was the person who enjoyed the reading, it wasn't all about a professional suggestion on how to make an impact on the book club as she presumed. Well, Agatha was right.

Risking, probably everything, Wanda commented: "Oh, I definitely loved the reading. I had a good time imagining the scenarios she described." Despite the confidence in saying it, she was blushing, and the way she spoke as if a secret between the two of you and with your knowledge of how erotic Emily Dickinson's stories were, was the reason you knock over half the stack of books you were trying to organize onto the floor.

The noise attracted the attention of the other customers, but you forced a smile and gestured that everything was fine before you ducked down, quickly beginning to pick everything up while Wanda looked at you with a certain amusement, as if she had just confirmed a theory.

"Sorry. You caught me off guard." You mutter in embarrassment, and Wanda chuckles, ducking down as well. She helps you with the last of the fallen books, and in the gesture of returning them, your hands rub together and the whole world stops for a second. Just long enough for you to look at her, and then to step away at once, clearing your throat. Wanda does the same, and before you have a chance to say anything, the record customer interrupts you.

It has to be the most annoying sale you've ever made. He stalls you for long minutes, and all you can do is watch out of the corner of your eye as Wanda slips further into the back of the bookstore, and you lose sight of her. To make matters worse, when the man finally leaves, familiar vehicle parks in the back of the store, and less than five minutes later, two figures with heavy boxes appear.

Yelena has gotten a haircut, and you have a moment of shock to deal with that. The next, she is making a terrible impression on the other customer in the store, the cookbook lady, who immediately grimaces as soon as your friend practically jumps on you. Whether it's the display of affection or Yelena's tattoos and rebellious posture, the woman leaves the store muttering lowly.

You pay no attention to this, grinning as you match Yelena's hug before she lets go of you.

"сука, next time you lock up the semester, at least stop at the dorm to smoke with us!" Complained your friend as she leaned on the counter where she had left her magazine supply box. Natasha dropped hers with a tired grunt, and once the books were secured, she gave a warning slap on the feet that Yelena threatened to put on a shelf.

"There won't be a next time." Natasha answers for you. "She's giving up for good."

Yelena lets out an exclamation, but you grimace. "That hasn't been decided, Romanoff." You defend yourself. "I just needed more time. I think I'll just switch vocations. Again."

Natasha giggled, but Yelena patted you on the shoulder. "Hey, don't look so down. I also think about quitting Fashion every week, and every week I remind myself that no one is as talented as Yelena Belova and the world must not be deprived of my masterpieces." The comment makes you and Natasha laugh and roll your eyes.

The redhead pushes her sister by the shoulders away from the counter. "You said you came here to work, not get in Parker's way. Find something to do-"

"Oh, sure, I'll get us some coffee." Yelena interrupts, letting go of her sister's hands. She points a finger at you. "Cappucino or-"

"Sorry." Wanda's interruption makes the three of you look at her at once. She is intimidated, but only for a split second. Forcing a smile, she raises the book she holds at face height. "I was hoping to take this one."

You take an awkward step forward, and it is enough for Yelena to acquire an expression as if she just has won the lottery. Busy taking care of Wanda's purchase, you don't even notice the sisters' exchange of glances.

As you wrap up the book, you try to disguise the trembling in your hands.

"I couldn't really thank you for the recommendation." Wanda speaks suddenly. You smile awkwardly, holding out the bag with the book on the counter.

"It was no trouble at all, Wanda." But she extends her hand over yours, and your heart stops.

"I really appreciated it, sweetheart." That's what Wanda says, stroking your skin with her thumb. "We have meetings every week, and maybe, you could join us in the next…"

You opened your mouth like a fish, babbling like a fool and completely in shock at the invitation of the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life. “I-I…”

"Would love to, of course." Yelena elbowed you so hard that you pulled your hand away from Wanda’s to massage the spot. She offered her worst-intention smile to Wanda, the kind she only used at college parties when she wanted guys who would never have a chance with her to buy her drinks. "She's a first-rate nerd, she'll love it, ma'am. I’m Yelena, by the way. My sister, Natasha, is the owner here. And since we’re talking about hanging out, did you know that we do friends' reunions around here? You're more than welcome to join us."

Wanda adjusts awkwardly, a little surprised. "Oh, what kind of reunion?"

Yelena sighs thoughtfully, shrugging. "Well, I don't want to call it a college party, because even though we're all college students, it's not done on NYU grounds and is reserved for fewer people and the drinking is much better..."

Chuckling short, and adjusting the bag on her wrist, Wanda denies it with her head. "It's a kind invitation, but I think I'm too old for such things."

"What nonsense!" Yelena retorts gesturing indignantly. “ "With all due respect, such a beautiful woman will completely enhance the party. And well, my sister always attends with her friends, and you must be the same age..." You bite the inside of your cheek hard, you love your friend but she is charming and beautiful and is clearly flirting with Wanda to annoy you. Wanda blushes, and Yelena knows she's won this one. Emerald eyes search yours, and you find that the one who might have won is actually you.

"Will you be there?" She asks, and having trouble hiding a smile, you nod. With a sigh, Wanda looks at the expectant blonde beside you. "I think I could show up for a little bit-"

"That's fantastic!" Yelena gets excited, not even waiting for Wanda to confirm before she ducks down on the counter and finds one of the invitations to these parties that Natasha hides near the cashier.

You barely had a chance to say goodbye to Wanda, with Yelena and her party directions, but at least you had confirmation that the woman would be there for the last weekend of the month, the typical date when those meetings were organized. And the realization had you sliding to the floor behind the counter with one hand on your chest.

"My god I think I'm having an anxiety attack-"

"No, that's a gay outburst triggered by a hot milf." Yelena cut in with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms as she approached you again. "You gonna have to put it together, 'cause we need to pick out what you're going to wear next week, on your hot date with her.”

You're as red as a tomato. "It's not a date! It's a book club!"

Natasha - who hadn't said anything about the interaction until now - burst out laughing, and teased "Hm, that's what young people are calling it these days."

"You two are terrible." You complained embarrassed, shaking your head in disbelief at the giggling sisters. "We don't even know if she's interested."

Natasha chuckled. "Of course she is. Sapphic poetry the first week, and now she comes back just to stroke your hand. Yes, Parker, everyone saw that. If that's not interest, I don't know what else to call it."

Sighing in defeat at the sisters' complicit gaze, you stood up again. "Let me get back to work." You grumbled, but still, Yelena followed you with thousands of ideas about what you could wear.

-&-

Book club sessions allow you to get to know Wanda better. And inevitably fall in love with her as you never had with anyone else, at least not at that intensity.

Unfortunately, a meeting full of middle-aged women with a certain willingness to gossip about any subject, especially the unusual friendship of the young college student from downtown with one of the most respectable ladies in the neighborhood put practically a watch on your back. All your moments with Wanda, stolen touches and long glances between snacks and reading verses for the next few weeks came burdened with the worry, especially for her, that the rest of the world could see all too well what was going on between you two.

And there was also the great frustration that in fact, nothing was actually happening. Aside from the undeniable attraction and warm affection you developed for each other, you were just book club buddies. You couldn't even call Wanda a friend, in fact, you wouldn't want to. All you knew about her family was Agatha or Monica telling you, the other was limited to any other subject but this one.

Pretending not to know or just accepting that Wanda had a life beyond the safety of your afternoons together hurt all the same.

Your only hope of progress for what was happening came at the end of the month, with the arrival of the reunion date between your friends. It was the most intimate event Wanda could attend and you had a feeling there would be no going back for whatever might happen that night.

The Thunderbolts was what the group of friends you and Yelena were part of called themselves since the beginning of college. And unlike Peter and Kate, or even the freshmen, America and Kamala, who were all set on what profession they would follow after graduation, you had already dropped three courses in total. Starting out in medical school as your parents would have liked, switching to applied biology with Peter until you tried computer science with America, you finally dropped out to work with books with Natasha. It was the closest thing to happiness, even if it meant lousy pay.

But ignoring this, what was certain about you and the Thunderbolts was that you guys knew how to throw a decent party.

The loud music didn't escape much from the top floor of the store because two years ago Natasha had gotten glassware with sound isolation for the rehearsals of the Red Skulls - her ex-girlfriend Carol Danvers' rock band - that kept neighbors from calling the police.

The drinking was taken care of by Natasha's friends, and well, it was always good stuff. There was also plenty of food and lots of weed, grown naturally in T'Challa's private greenhouses.

It was a college party, there was no denying it, but still, you went up to the roof, waiting for a woman twice your age who had a wedding ring mark on her finger.

Wanda almost didn't show up, and when she did, she was accompanied by a very beautiful woman.

Natasha also had a thing for older women and was half drunk, a dangerous combination. Since Wanda was your flirt, the Romanoff wasted no time in approaching the other one, who introduced herself as Agatha Harkness and was more than happy to accompany the redhead on her tour of the studio apartment that made up the second and third floors of the bookstore.

You were trying to remain calm and mannerly around Wanda, but it was almost impossible not to become a mess when she was absurdly gorgeous in her half-open social shirt, smelling fucking good from yards away.

As the night wore on and you both struggled to stay included in conversations with other people you knew - from Steve and his military school stories to Kate and her hilarious jokes - you began to wonder whether you were getting drunk on beer or on Wanda's perfume in your senses.

Fleeing back to the roof in the hopes of getting some air, you were about to consider leaving the party when Wanda found you again.

"I lost you for a second down there." She commented as she approached, hugging her body to the cold night around you. Your natural instinct would be to take off your jacket, but it suddenly seemed too intimate.

"Now you've found me." You returned with a small smile, glancing at her when she got close enough, only to find that she was already looking at you.

Swallowing dryly, you grew shy about her intense gaze and shifted to the hands she was smoothing on the ledge beside you. Wanda just stood there, close enough to touch until she leaned in a little to whisper.

"Did I do something to upset you? You're hiding from me."

Closing your eyes for a moment, you sighed before risking a look at her. "Agatha told me about your marriage." You state sincerely, and Wanda swallows dryly. "I'm not stupid, and I'm no good with games either. There's a husband, so I just won’t get involved. I'll only get hurt-"

"I'm very attracted to you." Wanda cut in, also decreasing the distance between your faces. Your heart simply stops and your breath catches. If she kissed you now, you'd probably say thank you. With a sigh, Wanda brings a hand to the collar of your shirt, pushing you away gently as a warning to herself. "She didn't lie. Agatha. I have a family, children, and a husband."

It was like a bucket of cold water on your head. But Wanda didn't let you move, keeping her grip on your shirt, and this was probably the only thing holding your tears too.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since we met." She continues to confess as affected as you are, her green eyes desperate and hopeful. "I haven't felt this way in such a long time..."

But you choked, pulling away. "I don't want to be some game, Wanda. Some secret. And I hate to share-"

"Oh, darling we're so alike." She interrupted a short, possessive chuckle, grabbing your wrist and putting your arm around her before you could move further. The attraction was almost liquid over your limbs, pulling you towards her and you gasped, pressing your face into her collarbone before you lost control for good and take her for yourself in this roof, damn the consequences. "I thought your friend Yelena was more. My skin itched at the thought of her touching you, I almost came back here and burned the entire bookstore." She confessed in your ear as she slipped her arm around your shoulders to hug you. The intense embrace increased your heart rate, and it didn't help that Wanda was playing with the lobe of your ear between her teeth.

"Stop saying things like that or I just might..."

"What? Tell me what you’ll do with me." Wanda challenges equally affected and you lose it, digging your teeth into her collarbone and sucking hard. She whimpers, knees buckling as her hips thrust up towards yours, but all you do is force her back against the edge, your firm hands on her waist keeping her from gridding herself on you as she wants to.

"I could fuck you right here, Wanda. Send you home smelling of dirty sex." You assure her darkly, your hands playing dangerously on the limits of her blouse. All Wanda does is groan rusky in your ear, wishing you would do as you say. “I bet you’ve waiting for me to.”

The smug phrase almost takes her sanity completely: Wanda grunts needily, trying to grab your wrist and force your hand between her legs, but you pull away hard, leaving her a slack mess trying to balance on wobbly legs with the help of the wall.

"I won’t be your mistress, Wanda Maximoff." You warn hoarsely, yet determined. You adjust your messy hair. "Sorry, but this little game of ours ends tonight."

Wanda hesitates, biting her lip. You hold up your hands, to point at the ring finger, reminding her of her condition and in a way, mocking her as well. Wanda hates the way she feels herself throb between her legs because of your smirk.

She thinks she would have gone after you if Agatha hadn't appeared on the roof, reminding her with a certain irony that it was time for “respectable ladies” to go home.

In the car, her friend noticed her quiet, sulky posture.

"Did that girl say anything to spoil your evening, dear?" Harkness asked in a mixture of curiosity and concern, and all Wanda could do was let out a wry laugh, one hand adjusting her hair.

"No, Aggie." Wanda retorted sincerely. "I'm more sure than before about what I told you last week."

Agatha hummed in understanding, remaining silent for a long moment of thought. As she passed a sign toward the residential neighborhood of Westview, she spoke:

"I know a lawyer. Miss Walters. Divorce specialist." She began, ignoring the tense posture the other had acquired. “Former family friend, who always said that if I called, she would give me a special discount. Ralph owns the house, so splitting from him would have meant goodbye to Westview, and well, he never bothered me enough to lose you."

Wanda's eyes widen as she understands what her friend is saying, and she stares at her with tears in her eyes. But Agatha smiles through the mirror reflection, shrugging.

"Nicholas may be a difficult boy, but he also deserved to have a mother around." She continues. "And we have fun, you and me and the girls, don't we darling?"

Wanda agrees tearfully, nodding. Agatha chuckles, making the last turn and the landscape becomes several little houses alike.

"Just make a decision while you have time, dear." She continues a bit more hurriedly, stealing glances at the houses that still have lights on. "That beautiful woman today, Natasha, reminded me of a youth I sacrificed. I am old, Wanda. Affairs are fun, but I no longer have time to start a life with someone I really care about. You do, and you don't even have to. You have a chance to be with someone you really feel passionate about, if only for a week."

Agatha parked the car, and the porch light came on. Vision was waiting for her at the door, a half-stern expression due to the exit he didn't agree with - An unusual pastime for a family lady, they had discussed before she left.

With a sigh, she said goodbye to Agatha and got out of the car. Jennifer Walters' phone card was in her pants pocket.

It could take four to five weeks of staring at the bookstore doorbell to finally see the face you wanted to see enter that bookstore. You would be surprised enough that Wanda looked even more beautiful since the last time you saw her, and that this almost made you lose your balance on the ladder you had climbed to organize books on the top shelf.

This time Wanda would ask for a book in the law section, just for the entertainment of studying your reaction when, after demanding that you wait for her to find what she was looking for, she would press a book on divorce against your chest. Wanda would have just over five seconds for you to understand what she was getting at, before she was pressed into the shelf and grabbed by the thighs to be lifted into the air, your mouth glued to hers and her legs locked around you.

The messiest, hottest make-out session she never had as a teenager, but it would make her feel like one again. Hands determined and curious as your tongue ripped out sounds inappropriate for a bookstore, until the bell rang again, and you had to part in gasping breaths.

Wanda would grab your shirt collar before you could go to meet the customer in the lobby to ask you out on a date. On the first date, you could talk about her children, about how the joint custody was going to work out, and how much time you would have to get to know each other. On the second you could go out to eat, and on the third Wanda would feel your fingers on the back seat of the car on the drive home.

Wanda imagined all this on the way, twisting the lawyer's paper between her fingers.

"Welcome home, Wanda." Vision greeted her, giving her room to enter. Wanda forces a smile, as she removes her hand from her pocket to pass her arm around her spouse for what would probably be the last hug she would give him as his wife. “Did you have fun?”

“I did.”

-&-

It's your night shift.

Natasha has a habit of closing early on weekdays, with the exception of Fridays where she allows reading shifts for all the sleepless geeks, as she calls all the late readers who come to the bookstore after six in the evening.

The day has been quiet so far, and well, you've been too depressed for the past weeks since you decided to move on and get over Wanda Maximoff.

So of course when the bell rings and you lift your eyes from a superhero comic, it's her at the door.

A weary sigh escapes you at the almost apologetic expression of the woman fidgeting with her scarf, and without giving her some other reaction, you lower your eyes again.

"Good evening, Y/N." She greets politely, her voice hoarse.

Turning the page, as if actually reading the words crammed in front of you, you retort, " We're closing soon, so make it quick."

A smile plays on her lips at your response. "Well, I guess that'll be up to you." She retorts, and you frown in confusion, looking up only to watch Wanda turn the sign from open to closed, and lock the door.

You feel your face warm from the lust glint her eyes acquire, but you manage to raise an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you came all this way to murder me."

She chuckles playfully, approaching at a slow pace while her hands work to remove her coat and leave it on top of one of the endless stacks of books in the reception area. "Is the place empty?"

You bite your lip as she puts on a show to remove her gloves, almost losing the train of thought. "Not really." You mumble, catching the other woman's brief disappointment and hesitation. Closing the comics in your lap to store them under the counter, you clear your throat. "There's an employee area behind this door." You let her know in a husky tone, and Wanda glances behind your shoulder for a moment before stepping around the counter.

You hold your breath at having her so close now, but she doesn't break the short distance between your faces, leaning in to touch the doorknob. You take a deep breath, and her free hand seeks yours in your lap.

She entwines your fingers together and it takes you a full moment to notice the ring missing in hers. Wanda smiles when she realizes you understand.

"I signed the papers this morning." She whispers it as a secret between you, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb and enjoying the way your skin feels warm. "I was going to write, to let you know, but I decided I wanted you to have me entirely."

You swallow dry, shuddering at the confession. "Oh, that's... nice to know." It's all you manage for the moment, surprised you can still hear her speak when your heart is so loud in your own ear drums. Wanda bites back a mischievous smile and opens the door.

"Come, you can show me how much you appreciate my fairness."

You feel your face burn and grunt in embarrassment. "You're so full of yourself." You mumble, not resisting the tug she gives to get you inside.

Barely inside when the door closes behind you, your back hits the wood and desperate hands tug your uniform jacket open. Wanda's gasping breaths mingle with yours as she kisses you roughly.

Her hands work at your belt, but you slow the frantic pace to something so intense and intimate that Wanda melts against you, a moment later green eyes staring up at you tearfully.

"I didn't lie." You begin to explain hoarsely. "There are three customers in the café. They'll notice if we... There's no rush, Wanda." You smile at her tenderly, your hands on her cheeks. "Have dinner with me tonight. You can walk me home."

Her eyes sparkle with happiness, and Wanda nods in agreement, kissing you as a promise. One she will never be ashamed to fulfill, doesn't matter if not even the law allows it.

#elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader

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taintandviolent · 9 months ago

Text

Knead ; Kit Walker x reader

summary: Kit hasn’t been coping well with Briarcliff life, and developed an unhealthy solution to the numbness he feels on a daily basis. You’re a perfect, beautiful part of his plan.

word count: 1.7K

w a r n i n g s: hurt, angst, depression, kind of whump, brief mentions of smut, female receiving, violence, fist fights and brief mention of injuries.

a/n: my first official Kit Walker fic!! requested by an anonymous!! anon; hope this is what you had in mind and I delivered!! I tried to focus more on Kit’s motivations and issues than the smut, so that’s why it’s a little lighter on the fucking this go round! I dunno why I struggle writing for Kit so much, aaaaah! also written at work, so usual apologies for any disjointed or clunky writing!!!

full fic under the cut! / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of future fics!

The storm raged on outside, a horrible deluge that had lasted days. Kit's dark eyes flitted to the clock on the wall. The hands ticked by but time never seemed to change. Not here. He needed to feel something. Anything. The days turned into weeks, weeks into months and nothing ever changed. He was an accused man, previously compos mentis, but with his surroundings, that title deteriorated gradually.

Kit Walker was losing it. Slowly, but surely. The cold, grey tone of Briarcliff was swallowing him whole, like a starved, but fading beast. Days were the worst - at least come evening, he could sleep. With sleep, came dreams. Dreams of somewhere else, dreams of you. Days were long and dreary, and Kit soon realized that the only thing that mattered were physical feelings. His mind wasn't a safe place to be. The truth of it was, Kit felt his fire burning out, and started acting out.

First, it was intentionally burning the biscuits. He was reprimanded and sentenced to biscuit duty for the next two weeks. Then it was sneaking out from the common room on repeated occasions, sulking along the hallways as though he wanted to get caught. Deep down, he did. Reprimanded again, and confined to solitary as punishment. But that afternoon, he craved something deeper. He needed something that would last, and Sister Jude had an unusual streak of mercy lately. It had to be good.

"Hey, sugah’."

Your tired hands stopped their kneading. You looked up, wide-eyed, with a smear of flour across your cheek. He didn't know it, but you'd had a thing - a silly little crush - on Kit Walker since you saw him in the common room during your first week. You'd heard the rumours, but every time you exchanged words, he was the nicest guy you'd ever met. Seemed like he had good, strong family values and manners -- which was more than you could say for most of the men you'd met.

Kit spotted the dash of white and reached out, wiping it away with the pad of his thumb. You really were one of the cutest girls he'd seen since Alma. It wouldn't be hard to do what he wanted... what he needed to do to feel again.

"Hi, Kit." You murmured, frustrated before returning to the pile of off-white dough. The last thing you needed was a distraction; the biscuits were already hard enough to get right, and Sister Jude was a stickler for them being made correctly.

"Whatsa' mattah'?" He could sense your irritation, and furrowed his brows. Maybe his plan wasn't going to work after all.

"I can't... get these darn biscuits right! Every time I try, they come out too hard and I'm just..." You grit your teeth and shoved the mound of dough away from your hands. "I'm so frustrated!"

"Dough duty, huh?"

You nodded, and pushed a strand of hair out of your eyes with your wrist.

"Here, sweethaht', lemme' show you. I've done enough of 'em to know how to do it right."

He was suddenly behind you, his arms stretching out to the table in front of you. He rested his hands atop of yours, and slowly began moving them, kneading them slowly. Much slower and softer than you had been.

"Just like that," he murmured, his lips close to your ear. "You gotta' be gentle with 'em... firm, but not too much... or they'll seize up on ya', makes 'em tough." His words were low and sweet, and you didn't have to try very hard to find another meaning to them. They evoked a deep, body-rocking shiver from your core. It travelled up your spine and made your teeth chatter. Kit laughed breathily behind you.

"Am I doing it right?" You whispered, your voice sweet and demure, laced with intention. "I have a tendency to wanna'... go fast."

"Slooow, sugah', nice n' slow. Othawise..." His teeth grazed your ear. "The dough won't rise."

Without warning, you rutted your ass against his groin, moaning aloud. You ground your ass against him slowly, just like he told you to. Kit made a fist in the dough over yours, forcing your hands deep into the flour. This was progressing faster than he expected. He hadn't known you'd be so willing to his advances. His cock twitched to life, tightening the front of his pants.

"You want it bad, sugah'?"

"I want it bad," you echoed. Suddenly, all worries of getting caught went out the window, you were no longer concerned about which Sister would find you - you just wanted him.

It had been weeks since either of you felt intimacy, felt that clawing hunger as it boiled in your core. You whimpered and dropped your head to his shoulder.

"Let me feel you, Kit... please..."

Kit ripped his flour-covered fingers from the dough, and reached back to his crotch, pulling his throbbing cock from his pants. He flipped the edge of your uniform up, and pressed his heavy cock against the curve of your ass. The sensation was indescribable, and he let out a throaty groan.

The hunger had him. The hunger, and the promise of punishment. Your body was soft and sweet like the dough in front of you two and had him going, that was undeniable, but the threat was what was really driving him forward. He needed to feel everything he could. He took hold of his cock, stroking it slowly against your ass cheeks, feeling the precum as it leaked into his hands.

Kit's free hand wrapped around your hips again, urging them backwards into his own. You whimpered, letting him take full control. Your fingers were still embedded in the dough, squeezing through the spaces between your digits.

With a deep sound, Kit slipped himself inside you. Your walls squeezed around him as he plunged himself as deep as he could, humping you hard. His thrusts were determined, but steady and slow. Just like he'd said...

You reached around to take hold of his soft brown hair, making a fist in the locks. He didn't care that your fingers were covered in flour, and it was falling into the collar of his shirt. He didn't care about anything except what he was feeling.

Touch-starved, it didn't take him long to climax. Kit emptied his load inside you, pumping it deep. You whimpered, rolling your lips inward to soften the moans. You were close behind him, and when he whispered in your ear, begging you to do it, you did.

Kit heard the heavy bootsteps before you did. But he didn't move. He was ready.

"Hey! What in the hell do you think you're doin'!?" The orderly bellowed, and Kit yanked his softening cock from you. Your legs twitched together as it left you, the slippery feeling sending another wave of pleasure through you.

Phase two of his plan was in action. Kit stepped in front of you, fists raised in front of his face. He pumped, and threw the first punch, making contact with the guy's cheekbone. He reeled back, touching his skin to see if he'd broken skin -- he hadn't. But he was going to pay for that.

Fortunately for Kit and his now-sick need, he hit him back, harder, splitting his lip immediately. You spun around, pressing your back against the table, covering your mouth in horror as the two men fought.

The man threw a hard left hook and Kit went down, falling to the cold cement floor with a thud. You could do nothing but scream, begging for him to stop. Through winces, Kit looked up at you and shook his head. To you, he was being noble. To him, he was revelling in the pain he was feeling and wanted nothing to interrupt it.

"Assaulting an orderly, Mr. Walker?"

"Yes, Sistah'. He looked at me sideways."

"He interrupted your fornication, is what he did." She sternly remarked. Kit swallowed, looking down at his feet. The punishment was coming - he wouldn't have been called into her office otherwise.

"Seems like he got the better of you." She gestured to him pointedly. He had, that was true. Kit had gotten a few good punches in, but the orderly was bigger and brawnier, and had walloped him as soon as he'd gotten the chance. The cut on his lip stung every time he spoke, and his ribs were definitely bruised from the steel-toed berrage that he'd endured earlier.

"Over my desk," she rasped. Kit was almost excited -- a disgusting, disappointing feeling that he knew, deep down, he shouldn't be feeling. But a feeling was a feeling and he had to ride it out, in whatever way he could.

"Sistah' Jude," he interjected, as he bent over the modest wooden desk. "I'm sahrry' for what I did but don't punish her. She didn't do anything. It was all me."

"Mr. Walker," she replied. "I'll do exactly as I see fit."

The first hit stung. She was using the wooden switch, and it sliced through the air with an audible thwip. It burned against his skin, sweltering hot heat coursing over his cheeks and the back of his thighs. Tears bit at the corner of his eyes, it felt so terrible. That was just it -- it felt so terrible. He hadn't felt this much in weeks.

She hit him again, just above the spot where she'd previously hit. Kit winced again, clenching his fists hard atop her desk. Another one, and the tears streamed down his cheeks. He inhaled through clenched teeth and exhaled hard through his nose with each hit. Sister Jude's kind streak had ended, and she was unrelenting.

Twelve hits later, she finally stopped. Kit was sent back to his room, welted and bruised all over, but hell... at least he felt something.

#Kit Walker #Kit Walker x reader #Kit Walker x you #kit walker x y/n #ahs asylum #myfics #AHS smut #AHS fanfiction #Evan Peters #fanfiction #kit walker fanfiction

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kneazle · 2 months ago

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Read on ao3

Regret was an emotion he was all too familiar with.

It was what he felt leaving Evan on their first date, even knowing it was the right choice– and now the regret burns hot for leaving Evan again.

Except this time it hurt. This time he lost the man he loves because he got scared, because he needed to save what he could of his heart before Evan shattered it to bits. Just Tommy's luck, he didn't realize it was too late to stop it until he pulled into his driveway, the damage was already done– to his heart and relationship.

Then came the following days, and Tommy expected it, but it still stung and made his eyes sting with tears he refused to let fall as he stared at his quiet phone. A week later and no one, not even Howie or Eddie, had reached out. Not even to tell him off.

Tommy's heart ached twice over. For Evan, and for the friendships he built and ruined, all of it in one night.

Hatred for himself grew in his chest and made a home by the time a month went by.

By month two he was grounded from flying and didn't bother fighting it. Not when his eyes burned with lack of sleep and a permanent heavy weight was on his chest as everything he was feeling swirled together, becoming too much at once.

Month three was right around the corner when Tommy heard from one of Evan's family for the first time—because they were his family not his friends at the end of the day—and it was one of the last people he expected to hear from.

"Hello?" Tommy answered the phone with a dull tone, staring at his empty coffee cup that held the last of the coffee in his house.

"Hey Tommy."

He pulled the phone away from his ear so quickly, it fumbled in his hand, barely catching it before it hit the floor. Tommy's heart raced. "Chris?"

"Yeah, I hope it's okay I called."

"W-What? Of- of course it's okay!" He swallowed trying to push down the emotions rising, his hands shook. This was it. One of them was finally going to tell him off, to tell him god knows what, that would make the weight on his chest grow until he crumbled. "But uh, how did you get my number?"

"Buck sent it to me when- when I left, and said I had more than him and dad to talk to if I needed it."

Tommy sat down heavily on the barstool at his kitchen island, he let out a shaky breath at the mention of him. "I'm- I'm sure you know-"

"I do, but not any details, I don't need to know."

"You might not want to talk to me if you did-"

"Why? Because no one else has? Your reaction was pretty telling."

Tommy sighed, letting out a dry laugh. "You're too smart for your own good, you know that bud?"

"Oh I know I'm smart." Tommy laughed for real this time, a small smile pulling at his lips as he could practically hear Chris's grin through the phone. "But I'm also not like everyone else, Tommy. I wasn't around for your relationship much but I could see your feelings for Buck."

"Yeah well...I blew it either way."

"I could see his feelings too, they're like flashing neon lights actually. He's never looked at anyone the way he does you and that isn't going to change because you messed up."

"I walked away from him Chris, he has abandonment issues and I walked away without much of an explanation or leaving him to say anything-"

"So explain, and let him say what he has to." Chris sighed and Tommy felt the 'are you stupid?' energy from that sigh. Okay, he deserved that. "He's going to be upset and angry but if you really love him you can handle it."

"The things he was saying though-"

"Tommy. I don't know what either of you said, but you two love each other and I know if you actually talked it could be worked out! Not everyone has time with the people they love, Tommy, don't waste it."

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the palm of his hand. He knew Chris was thinking of his mom, and Tommy wanted to kick himself for being selfish. Evan was within his grasp if he fought, not everyone had that chance.

"How about this, you talk to Buck, and I'll talk to dad."

"Chris!" Tommy sat up straight. "That's not-"

"Well?"

He blinked at all the attitude coming through with just one word. Though should he really be surprised? Chris was a teenager.

Tommy was terrified to talk to Evan despite wanting to because Tommy missed him more than he ever thought he could, but if Chris held up his end, could he really hide behind his fear? He thinks of Eddie coming over to take out his emotions on the punching bag in his garage or the aggressive way Eddie would spar with him knowing Tommy could take it. Eddie may not want to be his friend anymore, but Tommy still cared about him, and if he could give him this chance?

"Are you actually going to talk to him? Lay it all out?"

"Yeah, I'm tired of all this anger I feel Tommy, I miss my dad, but will you?"

Tommy knocked on the door with his heart in his throat.

His breath caught at the sight of him. His curls wild, flour all over his apron that covered a sweater Tommy knew was his– he looked a mess but Tommy thought he looked beautiful.

Shocked eyes roamed over him, and Tommy tried not to flinch at the intense gaze knowing he looked terrible. He had bags under his eyes, his own hair all over the place, and clothes he obviously had been wearing since he came off his shift the day before, not giving himself time to change after Chris's phone call in case he chickened out.

"Evan.." Tommy breathed out.

A mix of emotions swirled in his eyes, written all over his face, but the last thing Tommy expected was for Evan to pull him into a hug. "Tommy.." He choked out, relief and hope in his voice.

Tommy felt his eyes water as he returned it, Evan's arms tightening around him when he did. He buried his face in Tommy's neck, breathing him in. Tommy squeezed him as much as he could.

They had plenty of talking to do, but in the meantime they let their hearts settle for the first time since that night– and the weight on Tommy's chest lessened with Evan in his arms.

#sorry if half of it seems off I wrote half of it weeks later then the first half 😅#idk how to write chris sorry if it's bad fjjfjf #tommy kinard #bucktommy #evan buckley #tevan #911 abc #911 fic

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sunkissedscribbles · 3 months ago

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Prejudiced - Chapter Thirteen

this is only a part of the series, the previous and next chapters can be found here

A/N: i know, i know. it took way too long for me to post this, but I'm back again

WORD COUNT: 1345

TW: mentions of death, mattheo's nightmare and memories

dividers by @chachachannah

The remaining days of the winter break after Mattheo's birthday seem to drag me into a peaceful routine that becomes familiar by the end of it; Mattheo plays a big part in this routine, as it is technically only him I spend time with during this period. Kiara, well, got wrapped up in Theo's sheets again. Sometimes we have these days where we're barely in contact. It's like taking family leave from work. This week is one of those. We don't even meet in the Great Hall at breakfast since she messed up her sleep schedule again; waking up at four and going to sleep at four is her new profession, to say the least. Sometimes I feel like she's in a different timezone.

My daily routine, on the other hand, is different from hers: I have breakfast with Mattheo, sometimes with him and Theo when the latter can make it out of bed before Ki, study a bit afterwards (mostly with Mattheo sitting opposite me at the table in the library, trying to distract me), and then have lunch (the guy threatening me to stuff the food down my throat), and basically spend the rest of the day with him, with occasional outings to Hogsmeade, visiting the Black Lake, or making mixtapes in either of us' rooms.

And the bad thing is, that however much I enjoy his company, I'm growing too attached. I have attachment issues, that's for sure, making a very nice combo with my problem of trusting people and letting them in, but Mattheo somehow dodged and still dodges all those walls I tried to build around myself, just how I tried getting through his. Fortunately, successfully.

Last night, he had another nightmare. He hadn't had a single one during the break, fortunately, spared his birthday too, but he didn't have that luck yesterday. It hurts to see him like that: dishevelled, sweaty and with fear evident in his eyes – yet he manages to climb the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower, and up to my room, even if he sometimes seems lunatic in his walk.

"I saw him again–"

"He... attacked me–"

"Unforgivable curse–"

"I disappointed him–"

"Don't tell Theo..."

His words still echo in my mind, even as I roll over in the morning to tuck him in better. He always sleeps so peacefully after a nightmare; his facial muscles relax and he stops frowning his brows, and I can't help but want to reach out to touch the scar across his right eyebrow, to trace down along it. God, he's so gorg–

What?

No.

I suddenly shake my head, almost as if getting rid of the thought, a clearly inappropriate one. I have no idea what's got into me lately but this certainly isn't anything great. I let out a huff as I roll back over, but that doesn't help my case as I feel an arm wrapping around me in no time, pulling me closer, my back against Matt's chest, his breath hot against my neck, making my ears go red and my body heat up under the duvet.

I'm starting to think this is some sort of karma.

But, my train of thought takes a 180, and my mind is back on the boy spooning against me from behind. On how he always talks about his past after a nightmare, shares himself bit by bit, through small pieces.

I remember sitting on the floor with him in my room, our backs against the wall as he shared his life with me. “He’s always been violent, probably even before they took me in,” he said about Theodore Nott Sr in a shaky voice. “He’s always hurt Theo and me, physically and mentally. But he was the worst to mum.”

He told me he’s called Theo’s mother ‘mum’ ever since he could remember.

“…I don’t have many memories about my family. I was little when mother left us, and Theo’s family took me in as soon as my father disappeared, that night…”

I remember his voice shaking as he talked about Theo’s mum, and even now at the simple memory, I start gently caressing his forearm draped around my waist.

“She never distinguished Theo and me. We were both his boys. She taught me Italian,” he smiled softly, though his eyes grew sadder as he went on. “And she was such a great cook, Merlin.”

“Theo’s father did horrible things to her, too. And then, one night-“

“One night, when we were eight, he came he came home drunk. Like, wasted. And he… used an Unforgivable Curse on her. He… tortured her, and didn’t stop until… it was too late. I was afraid he’d kill us too. That was the night I got this,” he pointed at the scar casting down his right eyebrow and cheek, his voice growing shakier by the second. “I-I wanted to help mum, but… I was too late. Theo didn’t come out of his room for days."

He also told me how it was for him when we arrived at Hogwarts in first year. “Horrible,” he stated simply with a bitter tone. I can recall myself how people looked down on him or expected the worst. Half the school was afraid of him, and the other half wanted to test the waters. Pranks, rumours, he got the worst of it. In our second year, he was accused of letting the troll in on Halloween, hexing Harry’s broom, etc.

But the third year was the worst so far, when everything revolved around the Chamber of Secrets. Yes, Harry got it bad, too, but never as much as Mattheo. Sometimes I wish I could turn back time and hex people who had judged him before getting to know him.

I’d put every one of them into a coma.

Can I even say something like this as a Prefect?

Probably not.

Anyway.

I look down at the arm of the sleeping boy swung around my waist protectively.

What would it be like if I held his hand?

The memory of the first night of this school year appears in my mind, how I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up into the Astronomy Tower. Then, the realization comes washing down on me like ice-cold water, that I, indeed have hexed someone who was rude to Mattheo.

Bloody McLaggen. But he deserved it. Cormac is a reappearing problem in my life, too, something you would want to just cut off and never think of any more. Not like a recurring nightmare, more like an embarrassing wet dream with someone you’d rather not imagine yourself having sex with, as even the thought of it is A, humiliating, B, inconvenient, or C, outright frightening and disgusting. Like doing it with Darth Vader (excluding the time he was an actual human being because I can understand Padmé). And I strongly believe I’m not the only one thinking this about him.

Him shifting a bit around shakes me out of my thoughts, and I suddenly become overly aware of how his hips bucked a little against my backside, and how he scooped me closer to himself like a kid his teddy bear just a second ago. Hell, I could get used to this.

I can’t seem to relax though, and can’t fight the urge of taking his hand in mine, so I act without thinking and gently grab it, without waking him up. Like that night. And like the evening of the Yule Ball.

I wish we had more opportunities to waltz around the Great Hall.

His hand on my waist, the other holding mine gently, how his hips brushed against mine while we were dancing, and how securely he pulled me back against him after twirling me—

No. I need to stop. ASAP.

I take a deep breath, trying to untangle my thoughts, but my heart only starts beating faster, and I try to forget about those drug and alcohol-driven kisses, but MERLIN, THOSE LIPS. Kiss him and try to make me forget after.

Fuck, this is not good.

tag list: @inksoakedparchment @mattiesgf @mqstermindswift @girllblogging777 @myysunshine @yelanare @mamartinez

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nabi-unveiled · 4 days ago

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Fadel: The Why Edition

We've come a long way with our characters in The Heart Killers. The secrets are all out (as far as we know). Our characters are well understood now.

Keen - He may have won the fashion wars this week (the bar was low in episode 10), but he's a textbook example of feelings of inadequacy, jealousy of his brothers, and mommy issues.

Style - He's a man who loves with his whole heart because he knows people shouldn't be taken for granted. His experiences and loving relationship with his dad mean he's gained insight into trauma, grief, and the power of love. He's even served in this kind of grief counseling role to his dad before so his responses to Fadel's grief completely line up. It's been a consistent thread that he loves with his whole heart, and he's 100% in.

Kant - He used to travel the world with his parents and still longs for that freedom even though he took on responsibility early in life. Sorry Babe, once you're 18, he says your on your own.

Bison - He's a feral cat who was daddy's spoiled princess and has the temper to show for it.

Bison enjoyed his childhood on that island with his lackeys and his parents. They played Frisbee. They watched movies together. We've been explicitly told that he had a fun, spoiled life prior to the hitman gig. He doesn't like being a hitman. He'd rather have someone else do his dirty work. Because we all know he's going to get enraged and need someone to clean up his mess. "Young Master" indeed.

But I'm still left wondering about Fadel. His natural personality explains a lot about his need to plan and tendency to control, and we understand where he's at now emotionally. The impact of his ex's "disappearance" is depicted beautifully in the last part of episode 10. Even if I really don't understand how a man like Fadel didn't search for him. But I digress. Let's go back to before the ex even existed. Unlike our other three mains, there's a lot about Fadel I still don't fully understand.

So Fadel...

Why were/are you able to kill without hesitation?

You have a strong moral compass. You only kill the "bad guys". But unlike Bison, this job didn't seem to phase you until it got in the way of the life you wanted. If love hadn't come around, you'd have been fine continuing the job. You asked Style in an earlier episode why he became a mechanic.

But what about you? Bison told us you don't hesitate when it comes to killing. And that was true long before the ex ever existed in your life. We know you were good at it. It's why Lilly wanted to keep you on her side.

Does it actually bother you but you hide it? You do mask a lot.

Was it simply because it was the family business and you wanted to please your mother? We know you value family.

Was it because you are always going to do your best in anything you try? I hear your burgers are good.

Did you actually want to do the job? Because taking out the bad guys - that feels like the right thing to do. You scolded Style for texting while driving and intervened in a domestic violence situation. You have a bit of a justice streak.

Or was there more to it? Something from before you were even adopted? Because out of our main four characters, we know the least about your biological parents. Other than they were murdered, you've never really mentioned them.

Why did you take Bison under your wing?

The bond with Lilly is understandable, but you didn't have to bond with Bison. You obviously didn't bother AT ALL with Keen. So why Bison? When did it start? Was it when you did hits together? Or did your brotherhood start before that? Because really, even if you are a protector by nature, it begs the question - why not protect Keen too? I mean there's at least a few years between your adoption and the shooting training scene. I get animosity later, but to have not built up a bond at all in those early years? That actually shows pretty high walls long before the job started or the ex was ever in the picture. You only let the chosen ones into your "family" even then. Keen didn't make the cut. But why?

Why do you have the scar?

It's obviously not because of the ex. Were you really just telling the truth all along? Just an occupational hazard? No big meta mystery here?

I mean it's happened before. The urn necklace you wore turned out to be a professional tool not a sign of grief or loss.

Regardless, I'm going to be honest with you. I still have questions.

#i overthink everything #I still want to know why you didn't actually search for your ex.#fadelstyle #the heart killers #the heart killers meta

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years ago

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We're in this together, mon amour (Pierre Gasly)

There are times harder than others, but Pierre is making sure he's always there for his wife

Note: english is not my first language. this is my long piece in ehat feels like a lifetime, I hope I can still do it well enough, and, like usual, I like to say this to make it clear: this request is special because this is a topic that I feel huge responsibility writing about and I feel grateful that I'm trusted enough to have it be requested (and you don't need to feel anxious or scared to submit things like this, this is not a learning platform necessarily, nor I am a teacher, but I'm more than happy to write about these things and materialise some ideas you have). As I've said before, I hate the whole idea of labelling, but I also know and understand how important it is to see some of you and your characteristics portrayed in a character.

I'm very happy and proud of you for making progress about it too ✨️🤍

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated, and I'm slowly trying to get back to taking requests, and I am writing some blurbs when I can, so if you have any ideas or concepts that can be written in a small amount of sentences and you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: mentions mental health issues (anxiety symptoms, self-doubt), going to therapy, family issues

You arrived home after another day at work, hoping that you could put this week behind you and go into the weekend to relax. You could count on one hand the moments this week where you didn't feel completely on edge. Work was going through a busy time and despite being very happy that the company was growing and your work was being valued, it did pile up with everything else. And could you really complain about your home life? You had a supportive husband, way more supportive than you feel like you deserve and with everything else happening, it just created all these thoughts that would not leave your mind, no matter how much you tried and insisted they would leave.

Maybe a shower would help, you thought, going upstairs to the ensuite and grabbing your favourite products in hopes they would make you feel better. You stripped out of your work clothes and placed them in the hamper, putting some music on your phone so you could have something else occupying your mind when you noticed a message from your husband, saying he would be home later than expected since the sponsor meeting had evolved to a drinks and food situation, apologising for the sudden change of plans with an I love you in the end.

Walking inside the cabin, the water distracted you for about two minutes before everything came back up, thoughts of how you could be the wife to be there with him, supporting him while in big crowds, not needing to take a few moments away because it was getting too much. And maybe how he could do so much better, how he could easily have someone to do that for him without any trouble, and yet he chose you to spend the rest of his life with. And the feeling that settles in your chest makes it harder for you to breathe, harder for you to think and distract yourself so you push your back against the cold wall, the feeling so shocking to your senses that it just about got you back to yourself so you could wash your hair and body and get out.

You were in the bedroom, putting your pyjamas on when you heard Pierre's footsteps going up the stairs, "Amour, are you in the bedroom? I was wondering if you wanted to go and grab something to eat", he said before he entered the bedroom, "Oh, pyjamas already?", he asked in a neutral tone, but to you, it was the last straw. Tears started falling down and your legs started to shake as you tried your best to calm down, Pierre already kneeled in front of you, "hey, amour, hey, what's wrong?", he made you look at him, "breathe with me", he instructed, "there you go, you can talk whenever you want to", he offered as soon as you seemed to calm down, "but I will need you to tell me what's going on", he said before getting up only to sit next to you on the bed.

"I've been feeling a lot of things recently, and they're not very good", you began, "and I know I should've told you, but I don't want to bother you", and Pierre tapped your hand twice, something he had been doing for a while whenever he wanted you to know he had something to say whenever you were talking, "you will never be a bother, Y/N, you can tell me how you're feeling", he brushed some hairs out of your forehead.

Sighing, you looked up at the ceiling before speaking, "Sometimes I feel like I'm too much for you, I'm either too much work, too much drama...and I get scared one day I'll be too much for you to handle, I'm sorry I'm like this", you shared. It had always been there, a small impostor's syndrome almost where you didn't feel like you could even compare to the another drivers' partners, but recently it had all become a bit more obvious in your eyes. Your wedding had been full on Pierre's side, whilst your side was a lot smaller, consisting mainly of friends and some family members who you still had a good relationship with, everyone seemed to be wondering when you'd have a little one when there were days you felt you could barely care for yourself, people often commented and you were and when you weren't in the paddock, whatever attendance trend not satisfying their curiosity.

Pierre gulped. You had never shared this with him, not with this much emphasis. Anytime you'd feel a little more insecure, he would shower you with love, and he thought it had been enough.

"None of that is true, my love", he began, "I can assure you that. I love you no matter what", he stated, "You'll never be too much for me", Pierre assured you as he held your hand in his, making sure you kept looking at him, "there's nothing in this world than I won't do for you to make sure you feel good and well", he noted, "I- I didn't know you felt like this, I'm sorry for not noticing it".

You looked at him, seeing the hurt in his eyes, "I didn't mean to hurt you. See? This is what I mean, everything is taking a toll, now you're not feeling good about it, and it's all my fault", you took a deep breath, "hey, amour. You don't have to feel guilty about his, okay? Above anything else, I want you to be okay, so we can be okay, too. You just have to let me know", he said as he managed to hold your gaze in his, "I was thinking the other day, maybe I should go back to therapy. I stopped because I felt really good but maybe it's time to go back", you said.

Softly rubbing your cheek, Pierre spoke first, "if you think that will help, mon amour, we'll go just now, I would take you if I could right now", he said, bringing a small smile to your face, "I'll be by your side through it all, amour".

"Do you want me to pick you up after your appointment?", Pierre asked, looking at the calendar you had on your home office's wall, "Oh yes, that would be good actually. The mechanic said my car wouldn't be ready until the day after tomorrow", you smiled before closing a file you were working on.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about something", he began, grabbing your attention, continuing once you nodded, "I've been wondering about other ways to help you, and I was wondering, with you permission of course, if I could talk to your therapist. Not to know what you discuss in the sessions, but rather to know more about the whole thing. Like, how I can help you and know all the signs and things. This with your permission, of course", he said. You gave it a thought, "I'm okay with it. I know my psychologist won't break the ethical code. But do you want to do that?", you wondered, "I want to know more of how I can help you. I want you to be as comfortable and happy as possible, and while I know a few things, there are more things that maybe she can tell me. I want to be able to help you to the best of my abilities", he said as he cradled your cheek, "but only if you're okay with it", he reiterated. Smiling at him, with small happy tears in your eyes, you mimicked his stance with your own hands, thumbs rubbing his stubbly cheek, "I love you, so much. Thank you for always being here for me", you said before allowing your arms to change position and hug your husband, arms circling his body, "you and me until the end, ma belle".

"There were some difficult questions today", you said to Pierre over the phone, "but I'm getting better at talking about it", you said, watching his face in the videocall, "I'm so proud of you, mon amour", he said, "It's nothing really, that's just-", you were interrupted by him, "it is big, and even if it was a small thing, you're working on it", he smiled.

"You've been a really big part, too", you winked, "I'm just making sure my wife knows the truth, that she is worth everything, that she is capable of anything, and most importantly, I try everyday to make you feel the happiness and love you deserve", he smiled.

"Do you still want to go for dinner tonight?", Pierre asked as he adjusted the sleeves on his shirt, having noticed you had been particularly quiet since getting home from work, "do you mind if we stay in tonight? I know you were really excited, and I was really excited too but work was too much today, and a lot of people were talking and I-", you were interrupted by your husband, "you don't have to explain yourself if you don't want to, mon amour. Was it something I did that I can make better?", he asked as you shook your head no, "was it something you had total control over?", he asked again, "no, I couldn't do more than take a few breaks and distract myself when I felt overwhelmed", you said as you saw him smile, "exactly. So we can control this now, and we can stay in. Do you want to make food together or order in?".

"Are you feeling okay? We can leave early if you want to", Pierre whispered in your ear as you walked to the table in the restaurant the team had rented out to celebrate the recent positive results, "I'm okay, so far so good", you smiled at his attentiveness, kissing his hand that was laced with yours as you sat down and greeted everyone at the table.

Pierre came back from using the bathroom when he noticed you weren't inside the room anymore, going up to where you were sitting and asking for you, "Y/N took Maisie outside, we are discussing some things for the next meeting and she took her outside with her to see the stars", Elise from the engineering team said before Pierre made his way to the outside garden of the restaurant, wanting to know where and how you were.

"Oh, there you are, Y/N", he said, looking for any sign of discomfort in your body language, but only finding you comfortable looking up at the stars with the little girl in your arms as she tried to grab them, "She was getting a little bit cranky, bless her", you explained, seeing the worried creases on his forehead soften, "so I thought we could come outside and see the stars and the moon while the adults talked about boring engineering things", you smiled as Maisie seemed to pay attention to your husband now, "are you looking at Pierre? He's very handsome, right?", you tapped her nose and she let out a delicious giggle, earning giggles from both of you in return.

"I thought you might have not felt good inside, I was worried for a second there", Pierre explained, "I was fine, everyone was lovely as usual, but she was getting a bit restless and Elise and Tom couldn't keep her entertained, so I said I could take her if they'd like", you said as you felt Maisie cuddle into your chest, her hands grasping the material of your shirt, "and she's really fighting sleep, aren't you, little monkey?", you said as you softly stroked her cheek, "you need to sleep, little one", Pierre offered as he started walking, hoping that the steady movement would help her fall asleep easily.

"I'm very proud of you", Pierre began talking, "I can only imagine how hard things still can be for you, but you work everyday to get better at it and to be better, and that makes me so happy and proud of you", he said as he circled his arm around your waist and kissed the side of your head, mindulf of the little girl who whose eyes were becoming droopier by the minute, "thank you, you know I would've not done it without you", you looked at him, "a lot of it comes down to me, I know, but having you there makes it easier", you finished, puckering your lips so he could kiss them, "we're in this together, mon amour", he offered before a snore was heard, the both of you cooing at the sight of Maisie asleep, leaving you to think once again about kids. It had been going on for a while, especially now that you felt a lot more in control and like you could deal better with your day to day thoughts. "Hey, my love, I've been thinking about something lately, and you obviously have a say in this, but I've been thinking about one of our own", you voiced your thoughts, knowing that your relationship was an open and comfortable place for you to share them without any judgement from your husband, "I know there's still some work to do, and quite frankly there will always be, but I've been thinking about it and it doesn't scare me like it did before, I actually look forward to every moment", you finished your ramble, looking for any sign of disagreement in Pierre's face, finding only a big smile, "whenever you are ready, mon amour, you just let me know and we can start practicing for a little Gasly", he laughed, squeezing your body against is, "seeing you with a baby on your arms is making me absolutely ready", he whispered in your ear, "hey, small ears are within hearing capacity!", you suddenly felt shy, "what? I'm promising her a little friend to play with in the paddock next year!".

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly × reader #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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xmalfoyweasleyx · 2 years ago

Text

The more that you say, the less I know

Steve x (Henderson!)Reader, based on the song Willow -Taylor Swift --> my Taylor songs masterlist

Summary: Y/N is Dustin's older sister, she comes to town and meets Steve. But it seems the boy has some commitment issues...

Angsty but fluff ending <3 , between 1.5-2k words

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night.

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife

“My sister is coming to town! I’m gonna meet her here” Dustin said excitedly, hanging on the Family Video counter while Steve was focussing on organizing some tapes. “Wow, wow, wait. I didn’t know you had a sister?” he questioned, looking up from his work for a split second. “Duh, didn’t I mention that?” Dustin answered confused. “No? why didn't you mention such an important family thing but litterally tell me all kinds of other annoying and boring stuff?” the boy complained. “Well, she’s my half-sister and lived with her dad for 4 years now. So I haven’t seen her in ages. But she’s really great and smart.” Dustin talked admiringly with a big smile on his face. “Actually, she would be a pretty great match for you, weren’t you like.. searching for the one or something like that” Dustin suggested. Steve chuckled. “Dude, I appreciate the matchmaking but I don’t think your sister is going to be something for me, no offense” he waved off uninterested while walking away from the counter to stack some shelves.

“Hey dude! She’s kind and like... pretty funny actually, but okay” Dustin said disappointed, following Steve through the store like a puppy. “And by the way, I’ve given up on finding the one, it’s bullshit” Steve sighed.

That’s when the bell rang, a beautiful girl that looked around 20 years old entered the shop. “Y/N!!” Dustin screamed running to the girl. “My god Dusty you’re all grown up I can’t believe this” she giggled while hugging him tight. Steve looked at her with wide eyes when they approached hem. Never in his life did he expect that Dustin Herderson’s sister would look like that, sound so sweet and cause a weird tingling feeling in his stomach. He was shocked, to say the least.

“You never told me your sister was going to be so goddamn hot” he whispered in Dustin’s ear. “Ew dude, calm down with those words” he answered. “You must be the guy who’s been babysitting my little brother,” Y/N smiled. “Um - I-well… you could call it babysitting.. but..” Steve stuttered, making Dustin giggle. “I’m Y/N” you interrupted, reaching out your hand. “I’m Steve, nice to meet you” he smiled back.

***

The more that you say, the less I know.

Wherever you stray, I follow

It became a habit, visiting Steve when he had his break. It almost felt like a dream. The autumn sunshine in the afternoon. You and him picnicking under the tree in the beautiful field hidden behind Family Video. Laughing, touching, teasing. In the last 3 weeks, you two became closer and closer. Other people might say it was easy, Steve liked you and you liked him. Why wouldn’t you start dating? At first sight it all seemed obvious. You saw each other almost every day and it had been a while, since Nancy actually, that Steve had been showing interest in a girl for that long. But it wasn’t that easy. And you didn’t understand it at all. It was like you knew two different boys. Every time you got closer, Steve shut down.

It was a wednesday afternoon when you leaned on the counter, nibbling on some sandwich, staring at the boy you developed the biggest crush on. You both sat in silence. “Steve” you sighed. He didn’t look up. “We need to talk about our conversation from yesterday”. You had asked him on a date the other day, finally finding the courage. You didn’t even need that much confidence since you two already acted like a couple sometimes. He changed the subject immediately after you asked. As if you didn’t already go on some kind of dates when you picnick or pick up Dustin together after school. It left you confused and sad.

“What is there to talk about” he snapped. Your heart sank, surprised by the angry tone in his voice. His eyes filled with guilt immediately after he saw the hurt in his eyes. “If I’m that horrible or just some toy to fix your boredom with, you could just tell me” you responded, turning around to leave and go home to be alone. “No, I’m sorry Y/N, I…” he sighed from behind you. “You what? Tell me” you turned around angrily. Steve didn’t seem to know what to say. A doubtful look plastered his silent face. “That’s what I thought” you said disappointed and he watched you walk away.

***

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Your bedroom was silent, you laying there in your bed, thinking, crying, an ache in your heart. It seemed all very dramatic, you laying there in the dark, not able to fall asleep while the rain splattered on your window. It was almost midnight when you got startled by a silent knock on the glass. Steve stood there. Drenched. You rushed out of your bed to open the window before the boy could fall off the roof or something.

“Steve what are you doing here?! You’re soaked” you were worried, but still angry. “I’m so sorry, it’s just… it’s just so confusing” he said shivering. He looked sad, almost like he’d been crying too but it was hard to see with all the rain on his face. You didn’t answer and grabbed a warm towel from your closet first. “Here” you whispered, putting the soft towel around him, feeling his broad shoulders underneath the material. His features softened when you touched him and he looked comfortable. It was silent, your bodies close. “Why are you here?” You asked softly, trying not to drown in the hazel eyes staring lovingly into yours. You didn’t understand, one moment he snaps at you and acts like there’s nothing between you two. The other moment he looks at you like he’s never been more in love.

“I’m sorry for playing with your feelings.” He sighed. “I really am”.

“Then explain it to me, why?” you whispered while he was toying softly with a lock of hair on your shoulder. Your foreheads almost touched. “I’m scared,” he said with a crack in his voice.

He seemed so vulnerable, you had never seen him like this. Little shivers from the cold, his eyes teary and filled with guilt. You stroked his wet brown locks softly and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. “Come sit on the bed with me” you suggested.

“The thing is.. I-I’m acting so weird because it’s the first time in a long time I felt this way” Steve confessed. “What do you mean? Why is that bad?” You asked. “It makes me scared, I have this terrible feeling, that this will fail, that you will get bored of me eventually and.. it’s not going great at home, I know that’s not an excuse but, I’m.. I..” he stuttered, nervously toying with his fingers. You touched his hands delicately, trying to give him some comfort. “I won’t hurt your feelings like others might have done, if that’s your concern, I promise.” You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “This is what scares me too, the goddamn tingles I get when you do that” he chuckles, being a little more comfortable. “That’s not a bad thing Stevie. I don’t know the details of what happened with you before, but I can tell you, love is not a bad thing” you said. “Love?” he asked. You nod. “Can I kiss you?” he said, moving closer. “Please”

Wreck my plans

That's my man

Kissing Steve Harrington was one of the best things ever. He was tender, yet passionate. You were laying on your bed now, making out with your legs tangled and your hands in his soft hair. “I could kiss you forever” he sighed while placing soft kisses on your cheek and neck. “So, don’t stop then” you teased. Steve giggled, grabbing your hips and pulling you even closer to him with a soft groan of satisfaction. “Don’t challenge me, baby”.

You fell asleep in his arms that night. Your head on his chest, his chin resting in your hair. His arms were wrapped tightly around you and your one leg was placed on top of his. His warmth and smell made you fall in a deep sleep. Listening to his soft breath. In the arms of your man.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #steve x you #steve harrington fluff #steve #steve stranger things #steve x reader #joe keery #steve harrington angst

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romanestuffsposts · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Good luck in your tests and such this is a request that you totally can wait in but can we get comfort for a reader who have self image issues and like is malnourished do it so she passes out, when they go to the doctor Bruce says she needs a feeding tube while stucky comforts a very freaked out reader. Maybe they are anxious of the tube or hate the feeling and stucky just reassured them that it is helping the reader.

Sorry it’s a lot but I would love if you could do this <3333

Hi there love! 💜

Thank you so much! 😍

Thank you for the request, sweetie! I hope you like how i turned it and I'm sorry you had to wait before seeing your request written ❤️

I didn't wrote the reader having self image issues because i'm having them and it's too hard for me to write about it so I took another road to write it. I hope it's okay 💜

Enjoy <33

****

Warnings : mention of past trauma, malnourished little reader, feeding tube, comfort, pet names, cuddles, praises,

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : It's hard to get past your trauma

****

It hadn't been long since Steve and Bucky took you under their wings. They found you in a shitty state and are doing everything they can to help you getting better. Being able to finally call someone family is already helping you but it's sadly not enough.

Of course it's still hard for you sometimes to eat normally or act like you're fine when you're not so you don't worry people around you. It doesn't go unnoticed by your Daddies tho, they always have your back and always make sure to help you getting through it.

But, for the last few days, your Daddies were on a mission so they didn't had an eye on you to be sure you eat something at each meals. They asked the others who stayed at the tower to watch over you but they rather be the one watching over you.

When they get back from the mission, they didn't know how they would find you so when they entered your room to surprise you and you jump weakly into their arms, they frowned.

You were really pale and very light when they lifted you. They asked you if you were okay and if you had fun, all you did was nodding and giving them a little smile.

Your Papa proposed to go downstairs so you could explain your week and you happily said yes. But when you were walking down the stairs, it was like your body just gave up on you and you fell on your Daddies who were in front of you. They quickly grabbed you before you hurt yourself and rushed to Bruce who were in his labo.

"Bruce!" Steve yells as he opens the door of his labo "We need help!" He's quick to bring them toward the bed in the room "lie her here"

He starts by listening your heartbeats but with your Daddies's worried breathing behind his shoulders, it's not easy. "What happened ?" he calmly asks

The more he stays calm, the faster your Daddies will be too. He knows it'll scare you even more if they're worried and scared so it's really not a good plan.

"We just got back and wanted to hear about her week but she fainted in the stairs" your Daddy explains with his shaky voice.

"did she hurt her head in the fall ?" Bruce asks as he now checks your eyes. Steve shakes his head "Bucky grabbed her before she could hit the ground"

Bruce nods "that's good then" he's reassured that you didn't hurt your head because it'll be another thing if that would have happened...

"did she had signs before she fainted ?" He asks, now looking at your Daddies who frown at him "signs ?"

"yes like did she had an empty stare or something that could tell you that she wasn't well ?"

"Yes she- she was pale when we entered her room and kinda dizzy" Bucky says and watches Bruce nodding "what's worry me is that she's really skinny" he spots "too skinny if i could say"

Your Papa swallows and looks down at you. He immediately gets ride of his fear when he sees your eyes looking up at him "hi princess" he smiles as he strokes your forehead

"Papaa" you whimper and squirm on the uncomfortable bed. Your Daddy immediately comes on the other side of the bed and helps your Papa calming you down "shhh babydoll" he whispers "you're okay, we're here with you. You don't need to be scared, little one"

You look at Bruce with wide eyes as he approaches you "I'll explain to you and your Daddies what I'm going to do, alright ?" You nod but don't ease your eyes on him

"You need a feeding tube. You don't have the strength to do it on your own when you're alone which can be really dangerous at some point. You need to get more stronger right now and the only way to be able to do it is with that" he points at the feeding tube

"it'll go by your nose so it'll be feeding directly into your stomach and intestines." He adds and you start to shake your head fastly "no! don wanna" you cry out "wanna cuddes" you look at your Daddies with tears in your eyes "pease"

"babygirl" your Daddy's heart break at the sight he has in front of him. His hand gently strokes your hair to calm you down "we need to feed you baby. We can't let you like that" he explains "but I promise we'll cuddle right after Bruce puts the tube in you" he kisses your forehead

You cry and tighten your grip on him. You scared it'll hurt, you don't want to be hurting again.

"it'll be okay, sweetie" Your Papa whispers as you squirm more when Bruce walks to you with the tube "just breath, we're here"

"you were so so strong!" your Daddy exclames as he kisses your forehead "we're so proud of you"

You close your eyes and exhales in contentment. Your Papa is stroking your belly as your Daddy lightly slides the tip of his fingers on your arm, giving you the cuddles he promised you.

"you're the strongest person we know, baby. Look what you were able to do!" your Papa smiles as he peers down at you "you're amazing, princess"

You smile and peer up at him "sank you Papa" you quietly say with a tired voice. He kisses the tip of your nose "close your eyes, baby. We stay right here" he smiles "where we belong"

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itsa-me-lily · 2 months ago

Text

So this has nothing to do with Soap and Goggle's relationship. This is more to do with just Goggles and her backstory. Plus this was a funny way for me to introduce another lovely lady that's gonna be with one of our boys.

Here is the MPS AU Masterlist

Here is Soap & Goggles Playlist

Here is Girls Time playlist

Content warning;

misogyny, Pearson being gross, bro/locker room talk, mention of scars, vehicle accident. Please let me know if I miss anything.

You always hated being called into the principle's office in school. It made you feel small, like you were a mouse waiting for the big ol' tomcat to stop playing around. Surprisingly sitting in a Human Resources office was similar. It wasn't that you couldn't think of a reason as to why you were there, more there were several instances that came to mind. It all just depended on who tattled on you.

Probably wasn't Cap, honestly if he had an issue with something you did he was more likely just to run your ass ragged with bullshit errands and PT. Righty's been out of the garage for a family thing the past two weeks, and Rasher instigated half your shit. So it jut left the privates. You had a suspicion but you'd wait to see what shook out.

Thankfully you weren't left waiting long. You were called in by an almost soothing voice. You weren't surprised to see a woman sitting behind the desk, though the tidiness of her desk kind of did. Every HR person you'd ever seen had a desk that looked like a cyclone had hit it, papers stacked to the heavens, sticky notes posted everywhere like they were going out of style.

But here, everything was organized. Papers in small neat piles, all square to the desk's edge. A cup full of pens all capped and facing the same direction. Not a sticky note in sight either. It was clear that everything had a proper place and just looking at the HR personnel you got the feeling that you'd be put in your proper place if you stepped out of line.

It was kind of hot to be honest.

Thankfully that little intrusive thought didn't make it out of your mouth. Instead you take the seat that's offered to you, trying to remember all the tips you'd heard about having meetings like this. Try not to be defensive, mimic body language, ask for a lawyer. Wait that last one was for the cops.

Before you could start spiraling, the HR rep took pity on you, clearing her throat as she opened up a file.

"Lieutenant. Thank you for joining me today."

"Yeah of course Ms-"

You look down to the nameplate that's on her desk, only to be stopped when she pushes it face down.

"I'm in the middle of changing my last name. I just got recently married. You can call me Ma'am though."

Oh no...The HR rep was completely hot.

"Right. I mean, yes Ma'am."

Most of the time when people smiled in these types of situations it was meant to be reassuring. Ma'am's smile wasn't quite that. It was more pleased. Like when a puppy followed a command from their owner. You tried not to think to deeply about that one.

"Do you know why you're here today Lieutenant?"

"Well if I did I wouldn't-"

Holy shit the look she had given you when you had started to run your mouth. Mark you down as more scared than horny.

You wouldn't let yourself fidget with your pants or pick your nails, instead you pressed your fingertips into your legs. You had a feeling showing weakness wasn't the best idea.

"No, I don't Ma'am."

"Someone in your unit raised some concerns about a...list of breedable men on base?"

Oh that fucking...

"It was Private Pearson wasn't it?"

You didn't mean to sound as accusatory, well you did, just not in front of the scary HR lady.

"I can neither confirm nor deny anything. But you admit this is something that's true?"

"Technically yes, but Pearson's being a little bitch about it...Can I say that?"

"No. Not really."

Oops.

"Now can you please explain how this is 'technically' true?"

The way Ma'am was looking at you did not instill a lot of confidence that you could explain your way out of this one. Your mouth might have finally written a check your ass couldn't cash.

"Well...last week in the mess hall Pearson and his buddies were snickering to each other and passing some sheet around. Didn't pay much attention to it till later when we were in the garage. He must of dropped it. I picked it up and it was a list he and his buddies made of 'fuckable females' on base. With comments."

"Really? That was never mentioned..."

"Yeah...I held onto it and went to talk to him about it privately as his LT. Told him that he needed to stop acting like a punk, and if that was too hard for him to at least keep that shit to himself."

"And then what?"

You really hoped that whatever she was writing down now wasn't going to bite you in the ass later.

"He told me it was just locker room talk and that it wasn't a big deal. Just guys being guys."

"Did he now?"

You were so happy you weren't Private Pearson in that moment.

"Yup. So I told him do thirty-five laps."

"Why thirty-five?"

"It was the number of names on the list."

Okay Ma'am smiled at that, so maybe you weren't in complete hot water.

"So something else must have happened after?"

"Yes. A couple days later Pearson's friends were visiting while he was cleaning the garage. They got to talking again and Pearson decided it was a great idea to run his mouth about Rasher."

"Who?"

"Sorry, Sargent Mulvaney. Rasher is her call sign. She also works in the garage."

"Right. And what was Private Pearson saying exactly?"

"He uh...He was talking about how her scars made her a 'less desirable' female and that he'd have to be drunk and in a dark room to 'tap that'."

Even just remembering the shit he was saying made you angry. Sure, at first the nick name had been because of how she had wiped out at boot and gave herself road rash. But then there had been the accident with the Humvee one deployment and Rasher had fought tooth and nail to see it to the other side alive.

After you'd asked if she had wanted a new nickname. You hadn't cared how many people you had to beat to make a new one stick. But Rasher had said no. Had said that she was proud of her scars because it meant that she'd survived. That the world had tried to eat her alive and she had made it spit her back out.

Not everyone on that deployment had been so lucky.

Ma'am must have realized it was a touchy subject because she was gentler with her next question.

"Was anyone else in the garage at this time?"

"No it was just me."

"And Pearson knew this?"

"Pretty sure given the smirk he gave me when they had to pass by me to leave."

"So what did you do next?"

"Decided that if he enjoyed it so much, he could experience a little locker room talk."

"And so you made a list."

"Yeah. Only it was of lease breedable men on base. And Parson was every entry "

You probably shouldn't have admitted that, but you weren't ashamed of what you had done. You had enjoyed seeing his face get red as he had read over your list.

"Do you still have the list Pearson had made?"

That wasn't a question you expected.

"Do I still...? Uh-yeah, yeah I do. It's back in my dorm. I was going to bring it to our captain if Pearson didn't get his act right."

"Please bring it to me instead."

"Really?"

"Yes. I think I'd like to have this when I speak to Mr. Pearson."

This really wasn't how you thought this conversation was going to go.

"Sure. I can go grab it real quick."

"Thank you. Alright I think I am good with this for now. If you could grab that list I can wrap this up."

"That's...it?"

You shouldn't push your luck like this, you knew that, but there was no way it was this easy. Was it?

"For now yes."

"And Pearson?"

"I simply want to clarify some details with him. Seems he may have left a few out."

"If it helps word on base is he's real good at running his mouth. Apparently he dropped out of SAS recruitment cause Lieutenant Riley caught him running his mouth about his wife."

You might have been pushing your luck with that last part.

"I don't use rumors to do my work Lieutenant."

Oh yeah you were pushing it.

"But I will keep that in mind. Now please, the list."

"Right away Ma'am."

You had never walked out of an office faster.

Man did you wish you could be a fly on the wall when she talked to Pearson.

Edit;

Pearson is so fucking gross and I hate him.

#military program spouse #cod #Goggles #Ma'am

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on-my-way-to-the-woods · 14 days ago

Text

Anyway, uh, it's been busy so here is a brief (lies, it's not brief, but I promise I'm only giving the highlights) summary of the last month.

Break for very long post

The Last Month - Abridged

F & I are splitting up (sorta). The hardest one to write, but it's going up top 1. because it came first and 2. because if I don't start with it I simply won't write it out. It's been slowly moving towards this for awhile now, but it's real now. Mostly, it's a case of conflicting needs and conflicting disabilities, so it's been rough on both sides. We're still living together, and planning to continue that way (even if we weren't though, who could afford the rent?) so it's still family of a sort, but not like it was

I uncovered a major issue at work (~2 days after F had me start sleeping on the futon) and it was a mess but we got it resolved within two days

Less than an hour after finding the issue mentioned above, I got the call that the relative I was planning on visiting in a week died

I figured risking air travel was probably a bad idea. It'd probably end fine, but I've not yet been trapped somewhere with one of the worse perfumes and a metal box hundreds of feet in the air with no ability to leave for several hours seems like a poor place to risk seeing exactly how far these reactions can go. (I don't want a joint funeral, I'm not catholic). So I chose to drive through the night instead - which is also a bad idea, but what can you do? Packing with no idea about how things are going to go was it's own mess.

The drive went surprisingly well. I took as few stops as possible and I have a new odor reducing respirator that is helping a lot - so it was only a handful of reactions & I was ready to stomp them out each time (yay albuterol & xyzal). Pretty much drove straight through except for gas and a 30min catnap here and there (don't try this at home kids, I'm setting a bad example). My good friend driving-though-the-dark-alone-listening-to-a-horror-podcast kept me awake just fine (I love you Left Right Game) (but again, don't try this at home)

Did the funeral things, got super sick in the church but was alright at the other venues. I must have looked really bad in the church though because my family didn't make a single snide remark about me bringing my dog on the trip during the entire time I was there.

Helped out with moving things around the house and dispersing some possessions. I drove a bunch of clothes (fragrant 🤦 but I had them in trash bags so it was mostly okay) back with me to donate to the various queer orgs around here. They'll appreciate the old natural fiber clothes more than the goodwill where most of it was going.

Made a detour specifically to bring my dog to the Atlantic. She had a blast. Nova has now officially crossed the country (W->E and also S->N).

On the drive back I went hiking the farthest I've been from a city in a long time and I felt so fucking alive. On the one hand, stunning experience - did 7mi (11km) in snow no problem as a short hike (since I was trying to make it back to bring F to a medical appointment) and I would have stayed out all day if I could. On the other hand, it's a little concerning if the only place I feel like myself is that far away from people. I can't afford a house & land in the middle of nowhere…

Also stopped by a place we used to live and walked our old neighborhood route. Nova was excited, but confused.

Wound up in a different park after hours and it might have been haunted

Made it back the day before F's appointment. Slept. Discovered that the one provider I liked less than the others (despite them all being equally friendly) uses perfume so I've just been allergic to them instead of disliking them for no reason (I kinda suspected so, but it was proven this time)

Had a rheumatology appointment to see if they had ideas about what my issue might be. This is the first time I have seen a doctor realize what it means when I say I'm having these reactions to fragrances, you could see it play out on her face: oh shit, fragrances are everywhere. Several times throughout the appointment she'd pause as she had a thought and then ask questions that were clearly checking in on my life outside of just the symptoms (e.g. "how do you get groceries?") which is something I haven't seen since F's GP (whose interest was in public health) moved away. I think it went well. She's running the usual bloodwork, partly just to check and partly because she knows that having ruled out some things already will make it more likely for me to get care from an allergist.

Toured more houses for rent, it just made me incredibly sad. You can see traces of someone's beloved home in some of these old houses, but landlords own them now and they just don't bother. Rotting garages, fences in pieces, trash in the yard, holes in the walls, doors that can't open all the way anymore. 'Just let the tenant do the work and foot the bill, people are desperate, we can let the house rot around them while they pay for the privilege and just buy another when it pops up.' (I have feelings on the matter)

Finally got my covid & flu shots. I had timed it specifically for when our favorite pharmacist works, but I hadn't considered the holiday rush would mean they have two on duty. I instead got our least favorite pharmacist (she does not like F) and it was an impressively bad experience. Sure love it when you tell a provider something has given you side effects every time and they tell you it won't do it 🙄 /s

Rheumatology bloodwork is back, I love receiving results online. I'm very interested in what she'll say at the follow up this week. By my read (science nerd, but no relevant medical training), it's… odd. A little contradictory, but it's indicating some shit is up - however, none of the main contenders would explain my fragrance reactions.

Got to volunteer with a conservation group in a safe area for me. Had a fantastic time, was able to be around people and move and do something productive and satisfying. Went back again and will continue trying to do these as I can.

Went with F to her allergy appointment and, ironically, had reactions myself the entire time. Not just in the waiting room, but everywhere in the building. Maybe it was their disinfectant? Hoping it was just a fluke because I used to be able to go there, even while dealing with this.

My allergy appointment went poorly, there's another (long) post about it, but the gist is that I now have VCD in my chart (despite the fact he said he doesn't know what is wrong with me and said maybe I should go to Mayo Clinic) & tests he didn't mention

I am currently arguing with insurance over >$10k and I'm not having fun

#*sigh*

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montammil · 10 months ago

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frothing at the mouth and begging for more cruel lawrence content. either with marshall and nathan but since you mentioned nathan had it the worst, could you write something for that?

I've been so busy and burnt out lately, but I pushed through for once lol. I've written Nathan being tortured before, but since this has been sitting in my inbox forever, I decided I'd give it another go.

TW: Torture with hot iron, failed escape attempt, parental whumper, burns, infantilizing behavior

...

Even when Nathan tried to conform to Lawrence's twisted views on family and parenting, he always did something wrong. Even if he hypothetically didn't hate Lawrence's guts, he wasn't nearly as much of a lovey-dovey person as his captor was.

When Lawrence would hear what he deemed as a sarcastic comment or rude tone, he'd give him a warning and blank stare that hid any emotions that might be bubbling underneath the surface.

The situation was so bizarre, it was almost funny to him. How many people in the world had gotten kidnapped by a delusional man who believed he was their father?

Not a lot, he could assume. How unlucky could one be, right?

It seemed that Nathan was one of those people.

Surprisingly, Nathan's least favorite punishments weren't getting tortured in the basement. The punishments he hated the most were the infantilizing ones, where Lawrence would talk down to him like a goddamn baby, and then go make him stand in a corner or something equally degrading.

At least Lawrence treated him like the adult he was when he kicked him repeatedly in the ribs and called him every name in the book.

Nathan had a high tolerance for pain. He thought that was the farthest Lawrence was willing to go, physically speaking. As much as Lawrence liked to play daddy, Nathan didn't think he'd ever go so far as to truly hurt his "kid".

How wrong he was.

For a week now, he managed to pretend to be the sweet little angel Lawrence wanted him to be. Lawrence would see through his sardonic comments or wry tone and Nathan would get a warning look.

It would stop there, thankfully. Maybe if he played his cards right, he could gain Lawrence's trust and get the hell out of here.

The biggest issue was he could barely even be physically close to Lawrence without cringing and feeling his stomach turn. His fist wanted to act on its own when the blond bastard would call him "sweetheart" or kiss his forehead.

"You're quiet today," Lawrence mentioned at breakfast.

Nathan poked at the pancake on his plate with a fork. He wasn't very hungry. "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well."

Lawrence tilted his head in sympathy. "I'm sorry, bud. Did you have another nightmare?"

He hated being reminded of that. One night he woke up screaming because of a nightmare--about Lawrence, of course. Lawrence had rushed into his room and cradled him in his arms like an infant.

It was nauseating. Nathan could remember vividly how his body had shuddered in fear when Lawrence insisted on holding him for the rest of the night.

The only reason Nathan allowed it was because Lawrence had hurt him badly the previous night. The last thing he wanted was another violent punishment so soon after his last one.

"No," Nathan lied. "It wasn't a nightmare. I just couldn't sleep."

Lawrence frowned, lifting his eyebrows in worry. "That's no good. Maybe you need a nightlight. Would that help?"

Nathan didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that suggestion. Sometimes he wondered if Lawrence was directly trying to piss him off.

"Sure," Nathan decided to humor him. "A nightlight might help."

Lawrence's features softened in happiness, thinking he had found a solution to a problem that wasn't even there. "Anything for you, buddy. You know that."

He took a bite of his pancake so he wouldn't have to say anything back to that. He finished the rest of his breakfast quickly and put his plate in the sink. Nathan wasn't in the mood for interacting with Lawrence today, so he went into his room and tried to nap.

Nathan didn't actually manage to get much sleep. He was exhausted, but the memories of everything Lawrence had done to him wouldn't stop playing over and over in his head.

If he didn't go insane in here, it'd be a miracle.

At one point, Nathan could hear his bedroom door opening. He buried his face under his pillow, pretending to be asleep. Lawrence must have bought the act, because Nathan heard him close the door.

After a few more minutes of laying down, Nathan sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

He was tired, but his mind was too noisy. He really needed something to do around here, or he was going to lose it. He decided talking to Lawrence was better than nothing, so he got up and headed into the living room. Lawrence was usually there, but this time there was no sign of him.

"Lawrence?" Nathan called out. No matter how much he was going to try to play nice, he was not going to call that man his dad. No way in hell. "Where are you?"

There was no answer, which was odd. Usually Lawrence was in the living room at this time.

He frowned, beginning to wonder if maybe he had gone out. He looked out the front window to see his car still there. That meant Lawrence was definitely here somewhere.

Nathan trudged back up the stairs until he heard him talking. He was using that different tone of his voice, more professional. Oh. He was on a business call, or maybe even doing some kind of interview or audition. He was usually on those calls for hours at a time, which meant Nathan was always restrained while Lawrence did his work.

This was a perfect opportunity he couldn't just not take advantage of. It was risky, but his gut was telling him to give it a shot.

He crept back down the stairs and to the front door. Knowing Lawrence, his room was likely locked and he probably had his keys and phone on him anyway, but maybe if he could find something to pick the lock with...

Nathan looked through the kitchen drawers and found a paperclip. It would have to do. He carefully inserted it into the hole, feeling around for a moment before the lock clicked and the door opened.

For a brief moment, he hesitated. Was it really that easy? Could he really just walk out that door?

No alarms, no locks, no Lawrence holding him back?

He stepped outside, shutting the door quietly behind him. As soon as it was shut, he took a deep breath and ran as fast as his legs would take him.

On his left was the eerily bleak and empty beach, and on his right was a thick forest that surrounded the house, that was somehow even creepier.

Nathan made a split second decision and ran for the forest, hoping there would be a road there.

He ducked under trees, sidestepped bushes, and leapt over rocks and sticks. He didn't stop running even when his legs began to feel like lead. Even when he had the wind knocked out of him by a low-hanging branch. He kept running.

For what felt like a lifetime, Nathan continued through the woods. It was mostly silent, save for his heavy breathing and footsteps on the ground below.

After a while, he slowed down so he could catch his breath and assess his surroundings.

Nothing looked familiar. There was a bit of sun coming through the leaves and branches of the trees above, but the sun would soon be gone. The farther he walked, the darker the area became. Nathan had never been afraid of the dark, but something about this place just made him uncomfortable.

Even if he wanted to return to Lawrence, to admit he fucked up and take whatever brutal punishment he'd be given, he wasn't sure if that was even an option right now. He had no idea where the hell he was.

Nathan gulped, deciding to keep walking.

The birds were going to bed, but a few cicadas and frogs remained awake. Their song was the only thing breaking the silence.

For the first time since his escape, Nathan began to doubt himself. Maybe running away was a bad idea.

After what felt like hours, he finally saw something other than trees and bushes.

A road, finally.

He sprinted down the hill to the pavement, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw there was a car heading down the road. Nathan held up his arm to flag the car down. It didn't stop for him.

Nathan couldn't help but groan. "You've gotta be kidding me."

He spent so long getting through those damn woods that the sun had completely gone down. And now here he was, following the road from the side and waiting for another car to come by.

Despite how late it was getting, Nathan was determined to get out of here. He'd follow this road for miles if he had to.

Hours passed, and the weather began to grow colder. It was practically pitch black now. Nathan's feet hurt from walking so much, and his hands were freezing. He wished he had grabbed a jacket or something before running out.

Nathan wasn't sure how long he'd been walking down the road before he heard something in the distance.

Headlights.

He perked up, running a few yards and holding out his arm again. "Please stop," he pleaded. "Please."

The car stopped right in front of him.

Nathan's heart leaped with joy. He jogged around to the driver's side window. "Hi, I--"

He immediately shut up when he realized who the driver was. Lawrence didn't even bother wearing that emotionless expression, he looked enraged. Nathan had never seen him look so mad.

Lawrence rolled down the window, just enough so that Nathan could hear him. "Get in," he growled.

Nathan weighed his options. He could either get into the car and face whatever consequences Lawrence had in store for him, or he could try to outrun him. But even he knew that was a terrible idea--Lawrence had a car, and likely weapons on him too. Not to mention Nathan was already exhausted. He didn't really have a choice.

Reluctantly, Nathan climbed into the passenger's seat. He expected Lawrence to say something to him, but he was quiet.

For a moment, Nathan saw Lawrence's eyes scan over his body, looking for injuries. Nathan almost laughed at that--as if Lawrence gave a shit about whether or not he was hurt.

Lawrence began driving back the way Nathan came. Neither of them said a word for the entire ride.

Nathan stared out the window at the trees, occasionally looking back at Lawrence's profile. The only emotion he could see was anger.

He wanted to break the silence so badly. Ask him what he was going to do to him when they got back to the house, beg him not to hurt him too badly, but nothing came out. His vocal chords were frozen.

When they pulled up to the house, Lawrence parked in the driveway and shut the engine off. He exited the vehicle in silence, making Nathan shrink into himself with fear. Lawrence opened his door, gripping his wrist so tightly Nathan hissed in pain.

He practically dragged him back into the house, slamming the door behind him and locking it.

Nathan struggled to get his wrist out of his grasp. "L-Lawrence, please--"

"You're not speaking to me," Lawrence interrupted. His tone left no room for argument. He dragged Nathan down to the basement, and Nathan just wallowed in his own self-hate for feeling too paralyzed to object or fight.

He was forced to lay on his stomach and have his hands cuffed behind his back. He could hear him rummaging through things in the corner, making him swallow anxiously.

When Lawrence returned to his side, Nathan closed his eyes. He refused to watch what Lawrence was doing.

A moment later, he felt the cold metal of handcuffs attach to his ankles as well.

Lawrence exhaled deeply through his nose. "You are in big trouble, Nathan," he told him in a low voice. "Do you have any idea what you put me through? I was terrified out of my mind when I saw you were gone."

Nathan still refused to look at him, and he wasn't even going to humor him with an apology. If Lawrence was expecting him to feel guilty, he would be sorely disappointed.

"I'm disappointed in you," Lawrence continued. "You know better than to run away."

"You don't know shit about me," Nathan snapped at him.

That only seemed to anger Lawrence even more. "Wrong answer."

He could hear him move behind him and his mind raced, wondering what he was going to do. It wasn't like he hadn't been punished in the basement before, but the air felt heavier than usual. He wasn't shocked, he had never gotten as far as he did when attempting to run away. Lawrence had always been able to find him quickly.

Nathan heard something being plugged into an outlet and tensed. "What are you doing?"

"I've been too lenient with you. This is the last time something like this happens again."

His words sent a shiver down his spine. Nathan wanted to shrink into himself when he felt Lawrence lift up the back of his shirt, exposing his bare skin to the cold air of the basement. "What are you doing?!" Nathan repeated frantically. "Stop it!"

Lawrence didn't say anything back to that. He thrashed and tried to buck Lawrence off of him, but he didn't budge.

"Lawrence, what the fuck are you doing?! Let me go!" Nathan yelled. "I'm sorry! Please, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," Lawrence argued calmly. "You're only sorry because you got caught."

Nathan's brain was racing at a million miles per hour, trying to figure out what Lawrence was doing. After a few more minutes of meaningless pleading and horrifying tension, he felt something on his back and screamed at the contact.

Whatever it was, it felt like it was burning him, and Nathan thrashed even more violently than before.

Lawrence didn't react to his cries other than putting more pressure on the object against his skin. Nathan could hear Lawrence mumble something along the lines of "it'll be over soon, kiddo."

The younger man was seeing stars behind his eyelids while he screamed in agony. This was so much worse than all the times Lawrence had tortured him before--he wanted to die. Anything was better than this excruciating pain. He could hear his skin sizzling through his own screams of torment.

After what felt like an eternity, the torture finally stopped. Lawrence set down the object he had been using, and Nathan sobbed in relief, hearing it make contact with the hard concrete floor.

He wanted to turn around and look at what the hell Lawrence did to him, but it was excruciating to even move in the slightest.

Lawrence sighed above him, as if this was just a chore that he was happy to be done with.

"Are you going to run away again?" he asked in a gentle voice.

"No," Nathan choked out through sobs. If it weren't for the fear of the iron coming back into play, he would've told him to go fuck himself.

"Good." Nathan stayed still while Lawrence undid his bindings. He was exhausted and barely had the energy to move. He laid on the ground, trembling, while Lawrence stroked his hair gently. "Poor thing," he murmured sympathetically. "Are you gonna listen to me from now on?"

Nathan didn't even care about saving face anymore, he was in so much pain that he'd probably agree to anything Lawrence said at this point. "Yes."

"That's my boy," Lawrence praised him. "It's okay, pumpkin. It's all over now. Dad's got you."

Those words were the last thing Nathan wanted to hear right now. He had been tortured with an iron, and Lawrence had the nerve to call himself his dad?

The two of them remained in the basement for a while, Nathan weeping on the floor while Lawrence cooed at him in a soothing tone of voice.

Eventually Lawrence got him to stand up on his feet, and led him up the stairs to the bathroom so he could clean his wound.

Lawrence dabbed the burn with rubbing alcohol, causing Nathan to squirm and grit his teeth in discomfort. When that was over, he carefully bandaged it. It made moving around very difficult, but the throbbing pain was starting to become slightly more bearable.

After Lawrence was done cleaning up, he took Nathan into his room and tucked him into bed.

Nathan usually slept on his back, but had to settle for his side for now. Lawrence ran his fingers through Nathan's dark locks. Nathan could make out his eerie smile through the dim lighting.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I found you?" Lawrence's smile faltered. "What if someone bad decided to pick you up? You could've ended up dead in a ditch somewhere. I'd be heartbroken."

Nathan turned his face into the pillow so Lawrence couldn't see the fury on his features.

"If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself." Lawrence tucked some of Nathan's hair behind his ear. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Then die, Nathan bitterly thought.

Lawrence leaned down to kiss Nathan's forehead. "I love you." Nathan didn't reply back, and Lawrence didn't seem to mind that. He simply smiled again and stood up straight. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

Nathan waited until Lawrence had shut the door and locked it to finally let himself cry. He bawled his eyes out into his pillow, shaking with sobs until he fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

#answered ask #lawrence oc #nathan oc #tw torture #tw burns #tw parental whumper #parental whumper #ive mentioned nathan has canonically gotten burnt with an iron so i decided to go that route

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