#when she has the energy to spare it any thought at all I think she feels-- worries-- that she's been failing corellon of late | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peachsayshi · 7 days ago

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PEACH YOUR BABY DADDY!SUKUNA.....

He distanced himself bc he's not a good guy, he's got a shit job, can barely pay child support but he does what he can. And he always looks after your daughter when you're busy, takes every moment to be with her that he can, even tho he knows that you're the more capable parent. You were always too good for him, and he was your bad boy fling, your mistake.

"I think you love momma more." His daughter told him, bless her unfiltered thoughts. She was probably right. Somehow, after all this time, he still found you completely stunning. He felt guilty for the way he treated you, seeing you persevere and thrive as you've gotten older. If anything, you got more beautiful with each passing day, and he couldn't be happier that his child was being raised by you, even if that meant he had to be out of the picture.

"maybe I do." He chuckled, a tinge of regret to his words. He remembered the ways he hurt you, the look on your face when he made you cry. His selfishness. It was always his selfishness that got in the way. "But I'm not good at it."

// brutally soft // III.

baby daddy!sukuna x reader

tags: non curse au; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; mentions drug use and drinking; mentions cheating; sukuna being soft; unrequited love; angsty | | read this for more context & this & this

note: (I am so sorry this took me so long to respond to) but!! you don't get to leave something like this and not expect me to sweetly return the favor by meddling with your feelings the way you did mine. because holy shit, nyx, just hearing sukuna say "I'm not good at it" in a hushed, sad voice made me want to take my own ribs out.

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

"mama! guess what!" your daughter says. "I have a secret!"

you smile to yourself because she always has a secret to share these days. little, innocent things that capture her attention which seem worthy of keeping confidential.

"you know," you say as you help her into her dress. "you're not supposed to tell secrets when you have them..."

"but I tell you everything, mama!"

you lift her up in your arms, the weight of her body getting heavier by the day and reminding you of how fast she's growing.

sukuna is taking her to visit her uncle yuji, and she has been over the moon about it. you place her on the seat of her vanity, and proceed to fix her hair since sukuna will be arriving in twenty minutes, and you want to make sure that she's all set once her dad gets here. you giggle at her response, "okay, okay, what's the secret?"

she looks at you from the mirror's reflection and covers her mouth as she chuckles.

"hey, what's with the sly face?" you prod, holding a chunk of her hair gently between your palm.

"do you know ms. kiko?" she asks, referring to her pre-school teacher.

"mhmm, what about her?"

she giggles again. "well, she told told mrs. chiyo that she thinks daddy is cute!!"

your heart thumps. oddly.

you're not immune to the way that the women look at the father of your child. it's the same alluring, seductive energy that drew you to sukuna in the first place.

but it's been years since you've both been intimate together in any capacity, you're sure that he's probably got someone on call if and when necessary. considering he has more spare time than you do without a child running around, you're pretty sure that sukuna is satisfied with whatever situationship he's in. you've learned to swallow the discomfort of the idea of sukuna with other women. just like how you had to bury the hurt of the very one who tore your relationship apart.

you hum at her observation, your fingers idly braiding her hair.

it's not like you were single anymore either. you've been casually dating a lawyer on and off. it wasn't serious per se, but it wasn't a fleeting relationship where it made you feel like you were entirely free of the attachment.

he's even met sukuna at this point.

granted those dates are few and far between, but you were a single mother who worked full time.

trying to commit to a relationship is hard.

even though, you would love to share all this with...someone.

"anyway, I had to warn daddy to be careful..." your daughter interjects.

"warn him?" you repeat with a smile, her choice of words adorable.

"yeah! so, I told daddy that ms. kiko was in love with him, and asked him if I should tell her to stop..."

"stop?"

"being in love with him!" she responds with a grimace.

that makes you laugh. "and why would you do that, hmm?" you question gently for fun.

"because I know that daddy loves you more, mama!"

your heart thumps again, harder this time. so hard you feel it nearly knock the wind out of you. you clear your throat to ease the apprehension while your daughter kicks her legs with anticipation.

"and how would you know that?" "because," she insists, "daddy told me that he loves you more than anyone else in this world"

her words spill out of her, a glass of water that's been carelessly knocked over. you scrunch your brows as each word registers into your brain, soaking over your to do lists and mental checks.

"what?" you whisper as you stare at this little girl who has already carried on the conversation.

"after me, obviously," she presses - because no one can take her place when it comes to the love that you and sukuna both give her.

"wait-wait..." you say a little breathless, your hands suddenly trembling as you do your best to finish the job you started. "what did your daddy tell you? I didn't quite-"

"he said he loves you more than anyone else in the world..." she repeats, her focus on the rogue hair brush that sits at her small vanity. "so, yeah, that's why I asked daddy if I should tell ms. kiko to stop saying he's cute..."

"your...your daddy is just being silly..." you murmur, trying to underplay the statement. you slip the hairband around her second braid to secure the style in place.

impossible, you think. that's impossible.

so much time has passed between you both.

you buried that part of your past long ago.

left it and refused to look back-

"nu-uh. he said that I don't have to say anything to ms. kiko. that it's okay because he loves momma more, anyway. but daddy also told me once that he's not that good at it," she adds on, her fingers picking at the bristles of her bright purple brush, "whatever that means..."

"when did you and your daddy have this conversation..."

the realization hits her then, and she stares up at you before covering her mouth. "oops," she states, glancing from side to side, "I pinky promised daddy I wouldn't tell you that..."

before you can fish out anything else from her, she hops off her seat, her feet pattering away as she moves across the room towards her pile of plushies.

"who should I take with me?" she says loudly, brushing aside the fact that she said far more than she should. she stands with her hip jutted out and her finger pressed against her lips, her back facing you.

you have to lean against her closet to steady yourself. you do your best to rationalize sukuna's words, trying to decipher the pieces in this game of whispers.

your mind flashes to the horrid break up five and a half years ago. a memory that exists hazily in the back of your mind, to the moment of you standing in sukuna's dingy old apartment holding a lacy white bra between your fingers.

it was not yours.

"what is this?" you gasped, your breath straining as your chest rose and fell with unease. "what the fuck is this..."

it's the only time you've ever seen sukuna panicked.

your memory only captures his words in blurs.

of him drinking too much.

way too much.

of him not waking up alone but swearing that he thought he was was you.

of him not recollecting his own thoughts because he blacked out that night.

of him being just as shocked when he realized the warm body next to him was not his girlfriend.

he begged you to forgive him.

"Baby, I swear. I fucking swear I will clean up my act. I-I'll never fucking drink again. Fuck, I went too far last night. One of the guys was passing around these pills I shouldn't have fucked around with them..."

you couldn't.

you couldn't accept any of it.

you already tolerated so much with him.

the drinking, the recreational drug use, his inability to keep a job, and him nearly ending up in jail for causing fights.

but you saw so much more in that man - and yet, he proved you wrong.

this betrayal spoke volumes.

this betrayal proved to you that you were expendable to him too.

that you just weren't that important.

that shadow of that man doesn't exist anymore. not with this new version of sukuna in your life.

he almost makes you forget the past. this man; your daughter's sunlight. her knight in shining armor. the source of her joy.

he may not have been good at loving you, but that little girl has him in the palm of her hand.

and he loves her with all his might, it feels like his absolution.

"mama?" your daughter calls out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

she's standing right in front of you now, holding a rabbit plushie in one hand and a penguin in the other.

"can I take both?" she asks innocently, her wide eyes glittering brightly as she remains oblivious to your own personal drowning.

"n-no," you stammer out, and affectionately poke the small dimple in her cheek. "just one, my love. we all know your uncle yuji will have more for you when you see him..."

her eyes widen, "that's right!" she exclaims, "he always finds the best and softest ones!"

the bell rings, and you abruptly stand on your feet.

your throat tight, your stomach fluttering.

"daddy's here!" your daughter cheers, and instantly runs out of the room.

you pick up her weekend bag and sling it over your shoulder. you pause and exhale softly, telling yourself to relax before following in her footsteps.

sukuna's deep voice greets you first.

"look at these braids on you..."

you find them both at the foyer, your daughter already scooped up in her father's big, muscular arms. his hand is tugging at one of her braids and she's smiling wildly in his direction.

he's wearing an oversized leather jacket, the fit only bulking up his stature. your daughter is gripping his black tee between her hands, and she yanks it gently before asking: "can we go now?"

sukuna smiles and your spine shivers.

age has done wonders for him too.

"easy, princess, let me say hi to your mom first..."

your fingers grip onto the strap of her weekender bag nervously. you don't know why you suddenly feel very aware of how you look.

of the fact that you're completely barefaced and running on five hours of sleep. that your choice in clothes is a pair of unflattering sweats and hoodie which has some coffee stains on it. you desperately need to wash your hair, and are due for a manicure appointment.

sukuna turns to face you, "hey you, I didn't notice you standing there..."

you clear your throat again, "hi! sorry...I uh-I didn't want to interrupt..."

sukuna adjusts the hold on your daughter, allowing you to approach him as he couldn't take off his boots.

"she all ready for me?" he asks.

"mhmm" you answer quietly, at a complete loss for words because all you can hear is "daddy said he loves you more than anyone else in the world."

you hand off the bag to him, which he takes with ease.

"it's not too late to join us," he offers, but you give him a small smile and shrug of your shoulders.

"trapped with work unfortunately,"

sukuna glances in your daughters direction, "I tried..."

she pouts your way. "you sure, mama?"

"yeah, my love, I am sure."

you slide into sukuna's frame, doing your best to carefully not touch any part of his broad canvas. you stand up on your tip toes and place multiple kisses on your daughter's cheek.

"I love you and I am going to miss you like crazy these next two days," you state sweetly, feeling her wrap her arms around your neck to give you a hug and a kiss in return. "promise me you'll be on your best behavior..."

"I promise!!" she answers.

you find the courage to meet sukuna's soft eyes, the ease on his face doing nothing to help your shattering state.

"I guess you're both set then," you say with a sigh.

he furrows his brow at your tone, and leans forward to make direct eye contact toward you. your lips part slightly at the close proximity of his face with yours, and he tilts his head like a curious cat before asking: "you okay?"

your heat burns so naturally. your heart ready to climb it's way up your throat. you blink back in surprise at his question, and stutter out a "I-I'm fine..."

"you sure?" he presses as he casually stands upright again, like he didn't just pop the bubble of your personal space. "you seem a little off..."

"I am okay," you reassure with a firm nod, before dropping your gaze down at your feet as you shift your balance. "I-I just have a lot on my mind today is all..."

there is a gentle tap just underneath your chin, your attention lifts up to look back at sukuna. his expression is stoic, but you can see the concern in his tense jaw. he taps the space just beneath your bottom lip, your insides turning at the gesture he used to do to you countless times before.

"anything I need to be worried about?" he asks calmly, his choice of words a veil over his obvious unsettlement.

you feel like you really can't breathe then.

your mind spins to when you carelessly kissed him. to when he returned the gesture at your daughter's play.

what seemed so innocent now feels like a serious overstep.

your hand circles around his wrist and you pull him away from you. "I'm fine, Ryomen," you acknowledge politely, trying to keep your words detached but kind.

after you see them both off and shut the front door, you find yourself pressed against the wooden frame. your back weakly glides down the surface until you're sitting on the floor. you bring your knees close to your chest, shaking at the prospect not because you don't want it to be true, but because you are terrified of allowing yourself to even open your heart to sukuna again.

he broke you. he hurt you. and yet, he somehow was the only thing that healed those wounds.

he is the reason why you were able to bring your daughter into this world. he treated her with immense love and supported you in every capacity to build this imperfect little family with you.

ryomen sukuna - your dark angel. the source of your deepest pain, and the reason for your happiest joy.

the wall that you've kept between you and sukuna exists as a safety barrier. you can peek over whenever necessary, but it doesn't mean you ever have to cross that boundary.

and yet, you've caught yourself with the consideration of sitting on the ledge, or maybe even stepping onto the other side.

all it takes for you is to then see the cracks and damages of the past as a reminder of what keeps stopping you.

"get a grip of yourself" you mutter out loud.

you let go of that love. you remind yourself, and you both are better for it.

sukuna is a completely different individual now, and you are in a much happier place than you were before.

the whirlwind romance, the intense passion and addictive excitement fizzled. the sparkle having faded the moment his betrayal was revealed.

maybe your love for each other is just too destructive when intertwined so closely. but existing loosely as small strings, and tethered to the singular entity that lives and breathes because of it...

maybe that should be more than enough for you both.

and you don't know why the thought breaks your heart a little.

#sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna angst #sukuna angst #hurt/comfort

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ginnsbaker · 5 months ago

Text

My Sundown

Summary: You’ve been a Hydra agent for as long as you can remember, when Wanda Maximoff and her brother, Pietro, volunteers for Hydra's human experiments.

Word count: 10K+ | Tags: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader | Warnings: Only mentions of smut. Hurt/comfort. Reader is a little older than Wanda. Some angst. | A/N: I missed writing for Wanda, and have always wanted to write canon-ish oneshots for the MCU character. Main Masterlist

When they first bring her in, she looks like she's been through hell—eyes hollow, skin pale, a storm simmering just beneath the surface. Her hands tremble, not from fear, but from the sheer, unbridled power flowing through her veins. The room seems to shrink under the weight of it, as if even the walls are aware of what she’s capable of. The other recruits are scared and jittery, but she’s different. Her brother too—both rough around the edges, like two sides of the same scarred coin.

“Where did they round up these rats now?” you mutter to Lev, who’s standing dutifully beside you—the only person you've let close enough to be called a friend in all your years with Hydra.

“Sokovian volunteers,” he corrects you, eyes fixed straight ahead, mirroring your own unblinking focus on the twins. Maybe he feels the strange energy coming off them too, or maybe it’s just the routine numbness that sets in after years of blindly following orders.

You nod slightly, though the term volunteer feels like a cruel joke. No one truly volunteers for this.

“Agent.”

Dr. List’s voice yanks you out of your thoughts, dreary and impersonal. He calls everyone that way, as if you're just another tool, interchangeable and anonymous. It’s an intentional tactic—strip away the names, and you strip any sense of humanity. Without a name, you’re not a person; you’re just a weapon at their disposal.

But you know he means you.

You step forward. “Sir,” you reply, maintaining a ramrod straight posture, your eyes fixed on a spot just beside his perpetually scowling face. It seems all villains share that same dour expression, but if this woman—this girl—makes it through the experiments and officially joins the ranks, she might just break the mold, looking more like an angel than a monster. You quickly shake off the thought, stifling a grimace at the odd turn your thoughts have taken.

When you risk a quick glance at her, you catch a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips, as if she knows exactly what you were just thinking.

“You’re to oversee Wanda Maximoff’s progress,” Dr. List continues without sparing you a second glance. “Ensure she complies. If she doesn’t…” He lets the threat hang, but you don't need him to spell it out. You know what Hydra does to those who don't meet expectations.

“And the boy?” you ask, genuinely curious about the other twin.

Dr. List gives you a sharp look, like he suspects something. Questions are frowned upon here, but ever since you laid eyes on Wanda, a persistent tingling has crept up the back of your neck.

To put it bluntly, she unnerves you, and you'd much prefer to deal with her brother.

“Strucker decided to…take a more hands-on approach with him,” Dr. List says.

“Understood, sir,” you reply crisply, reaffirming your commitment to your orders. You steal another glance at Wanda, only to feel a rush of heat when you realize she’s been watching you the entire time.

Wanda looks even more formidable once she’s showered and changed into fresh clothes. You can’t decide if it’s because the sinister gleam in her eyes remains untouched or because the grime and hardships of life on the streets have been washed away, revealing a haunting beauty beneath the dirt. Clean, she’s striking—but that beauty only makes her more dangerous. You’ve tried to delay any direct interaction with her, but this morning, Dr. List visited to follow up on the initial assessment, leaving you no more time to postpone. After a week of stalling, you’re out of excuses, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.

As she steps out of the small bathroom, her damp hair clings to her shoulders, softening her otherwise sharp features. The moment she becomes aware of your presence, her gaze locks onto you, and she begins to comb the wet tendrils back with her slender fingers. Your hand tightens around your keycard involuntarily as you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Wanda is just like any other volunteer who entered the organization and never left its walls to see the light of day. Besides, you’re armed, and Wanda is not. It’s ridiculous to be this on edge around someone who's at a disadvantage.

“You,” Wanda murmurs, her accent rolling off her tongue like a slow, winding river.

“Shall we begin?” you ask, keeping your tone even and detached. You can’t afford to let her see how much she frighte—affects you.

Wanda ignores your request. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, studying you with a keenness that makes your skin prickle. You meet her stare, determined not to show any cracks, even though your heart's hammering away.

Finally, she nods—a small, almost imperceptible movement.

You clear your throat and motion towards the small cot given to them as beds. “Please, have a seat,” you say.

This time, Wanda complies without a word.

You glance around the room, searching for a seat, and silently berate yourself for not arranging one beforehand. It’s a small oversight, but it makes you feel foolish. With no other option, you settle against the farthest wall, opposite her, and lean against it, though it doesn’t make you feel any more grounded than you did a second ago.

In your hand is a file detailing everything Hydra knows about her, which isn’t much. You open it with a practiced ease, flipping through the pages, but you’re aptly aware of her eyes on you, watching your every move.

“Wanda Maximoff,” you start. “The procedures you're about to undergo are highly experimental. Hydra won't be held responsible for any injuries, no matter if they're permanent or temporary.”

Including death. But you are prohibited from disclosing this to avoid causing panic or stress among the subjects.

Wanda says nothing, her expression unreadable, but you can sense she’s lingering on a thought. Not sure what it is, you go on, falling back on the lines you've memorized these last few months.

“These procedures will enhance your natural abilities, giving you powers beyond what you may or may not currently possess. However, there are risks involved. Do you understand the nature of these risks?”

Wanda nods again. It’s the same answer you’ve received from countless other volunteers, most of whom had no idea what they were truly signing up for. But there’s something different about her, something in the way she holds herself that tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting into—and she’s not afraid.

“There will be a series of physical and psychological evaluations. We will push you to your breaking point and beyond. It is crucial that you cooperate fully. Resistance will only make the process more difficult, both for you and for us.”

You scan her face for any sign of fear or hesitation, but she's a blank slate. It’s as if she’s made peace with whatever fate awaits her here. That bothers you more than you’d care to admit.

“We will also be conducting interviews throughout the process,” you continue. “These will assess your mental state, your thoughts, your fears. Everything you say will be documented, and nothing will be private.”

Wanda's eyes narrow a touch, the first sign of any emotion since she sat down. It’s subtle, but you notice it. Maybe the thought of her mind being picked apart like a lab specimen is getting to her more than the threat of physical harm. Or it could be something else entirely.

“We’ll begin the physical tests tomorrow,” you say, closing the file and hugging it to your chest. “For now, you should rest and eat as much as you like. Your room is monitored constantly. If you need anything, just ask, though your movement around the facility will be restricted.”

The mask of indifference slips back into place. Wanda leans back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows in a display of casual ease.

“Do you have any questions?” you ask, mostly because you have to, not because you really want to know. You figure she won't ask anything—most are too scared or too defeated to speak up.

But Wanda Maximoff isn't most people.

“Why do you do this?”

You can’t help it—a faint smile begins to creep across your face at her question. Most volunteers, when they ask anything at all, are fixated on their own impending ordeal, too scared of what's coming.

But Wanda isn't asking about herself; she's asking about you. It feels like forever since anyone showed that kind of interest.

Pausing at the doorway, you turn your head just enough for her to see the profile of your face.

“I do what I'm told,” you say, dodging the deeper question she posed—the real why behind your actions. The truth is, you stopped asking why a long time ago. Reasons tend to blur into excuses when moral lines are crossed in an organization you once trusted.

You're already tapping your keycard against the scanner when Wanda speaks again.

“Will doing what you're told bring them back?”

Her question spins you around so fast it's almost like whiplash. How did Wanda know about that? Was it just a wild guess meant to throw you off? Whatever it was, it worked.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t even remember the last time you even thought about them. You've never shared this with anyone—not even Lev. Only a handful of Hydra figures were ever privy to your past.

Wanda couldn't possibly know. Unless—

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tone dismissive as she curls into a fetal position, turning her back to you.

If your theory holds, Wanda might be the key Hydra has been searching for—the one who can unlock the powers of the scepter that have eluded so many others. Her apparent ability to read minds could be the very breakthrough Dr. List has been waiting for.

Finding yourself hesitating to report this discovery surprises you. It’s almost ironic how your conscience decides to kick in now, just when Hydra's goal seems tantalizingly close with the acquisition of the twins. You know what Hydra would do if they realized just how special she is, and the thought of them twisting her into something monstrous is something you can’t even begin to imagine.

In the days that follow, you keep quiet about your suspicions regarding Wanda’s innate abilities. You tell yourself that Dr. List will probably uncover them through his experiments soon enough. It’s definitely not because you're worried about what they might do if they decide to fast-track her program.

Yes, you’re just staying out of it, certainly not because you want to protect her.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your next face-to-face with Wanda comes a week later.

Though you have merely been observing her through a two-way mirror, you've been plagued by sleepless nights since your last meeting, and not even the strongest sedatives at your disposal have helped. Thoughts of her well-being nag at you, despite Hydra's strict rules limiting interaction between volunteers and handlers to prevent any emotional attachments. Such attachments have formed before, and Hydra has always dealt with them ruthlessly.

When you enter her room, she's in the same position as before—curled up on her cot, making herself appear small and almost childlike. She looks up as the door closes behind you, her eyes meeting yours with a quiet recognition.

As you step closer, the hollowness of her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes, and her pale complexion are unmistakable. The word weathered hardly does justice to the toll her first week has taken. You know exactly what she’s been through. The tests here aren’t just tests—they’re torture, meant to break people down, body and mind. Even with her powers and confidence, Wanda shows the same signs of strain. She's slight, frail, and clearly, she's had as rough a time as anyone else here.

This time, you come prepared with a metal chair and a freshly prepared tea set next to it, and take a seat across from her.

“How are you holding up?” you ask, although the answer seems painfully obvious.

Wanda shrugs, barely moving, as if the effort to appear okay is too much for her. But then she surprises you.

“How long until Hydra enhances my powers?”

You weren’t expecting that. After everything she’s been through, she’s asking for more? You thought she’d be wary, maybe even broken by now. But the question says otherwise. She’s been through hell, and she’s still pushing forward, demanding more. Is she courting death?

“You seem in a hurry,” you say, hiding your worry behind a soft chuckle.

Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t come here to wait around. If they want to use me, they need to make me stronger.”

Use me.

How disconcerting. She’s asking for more—more pain, more trials. As if everything she’s endured isn’t enough, as if she needs it to become something greater. It’s reckless and foolish, to say the least.

“We’re moving as fast as we can—”

“Move faster.”

“Wanda,” you say quietly. “What you’re asking for... it could break you.”

“I’m already broken,” she declares, cold and matter-of-fact. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s only when you notice the disgust in her eyes that you realize you’ve been looking at her with pity. Wanda is about to snap back, likely to tell you she doesn’t need your sympathy, when her expression shifts abruptly to one of curiosity.

She tilts her head, studying you—or maybe, with the mirth in her eye, it’s more like she’s mocking you.

“You look at me like that again, and I’ll ask you a question,” Wanda says, her voice low, almost a whisper.

You stiffen, uncertain of what's coming next, but before you can say anything, she continues.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you, abrupt and a bit too loud—almost like you're trying to convince both yourself and Wanda how absurd she’s being. But as the laughter dies down, you feel your face heat up, your cheeks flushing a telltale red that you can't hide.

“No,” you say, your gaze dropping to the floor as you shake your head. You clasp your hands behind your back, one finger nervously picking at a cuticle. “This isn’t what this is about.”

Wanda smirks slightly, her lips twitching, amused by your discomfort. “Isn't it?”

For a split second, you start to doubt everything. Did you really want to sleep with her? It's been ages since you've even considered intimacy with anyone—maybe too long. Life here doesn't leave space for that kind of thinking, and even if it did, the situation wouldn't allow it. Your heart's been shattered so often you're sure there's nothing left to give—especially not to someone you've only known for a week.

Wait—love?

This is, at best, lust—nothing more.

“No,” you repeat with more conviction.

Wanda’s smirk fades into a slow, knowing smile. “Fine. Just know the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

A proposition. It’s not the first time you’ve received one, but this offer sticks with you longer than you’d like. Wanda’s already spent too much time in your thoughts, and you’re desperate to shake her off and get back to the task at hand. But she makes it maddeningly hard to do so.

Without looking at her, you clear your throat and begin the routine interview. You refuse to focus on the fact that she’s just openly considered a physical encounter with you—and you’re definitely not considering it in return.

“Have you noticed any unusual side effects since the last session? Headaches, nausea, dizziness?” you ask, skipping the pleasantries.

“No,” she says dryly. “No headaches. No nausea. No dizziness.”

You jot down her answers, ignoring her evident disinterest in the proceedings.

“Any changes in your sleep pattern?” you continue.

“No.”

“Any unusual pain or discomfort?” you ask, forcing yourself to meet her gaze, but her focus is on the rings on her fingers. The prisoners—volunteers, you correct yourself—aren't supposed to keep any personal items. It baffles you how she managed to hold on to those cheap pieces of metal and silver.

It takes Wanda a moment to respond. “Just the usual soreness.”

You suspect it's more than just soreness. She’s probably downplaying the pain, so you make a note beside her answer.

“Alright, we’ll keep an eye on that. Any changes in your mood? Irritability, anxiety, anything like that?”

Wanda shrugs. “Depends on the company, I suppose.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Noted. We’ll stick with the same regimen for now. Any concerns or questions about the next phase?”

“What happened to them?” Wanda asks, steering the interview off course.

Annoyance flares up as she probes again, prying into your business. “Don’t you already know?” you snap, your patience wearing thin.

But Wanda doesn’t even blink. She isn’t scared, and that just irks you even more. She should be, if she knew what you’ve done to others who’ve pushed your buttons. You’ve never hesitated to throw your weight around with those who make your job harder.

“Sometimes what really happened and how we remember it are two entirely different stories,” she says, taking a deep breath before she continues. “Our mind protects us from the truth. It obscures what’s real, and what’s not becomes all we remember.”

You're stone-still, your mind drifting back to the past Wanda keeps prodding at. You don't even have a picture of your family anymore. Their voices are gone from your memory, and you're barely holding onto their faces. It used to tear you apart, thinking about them, but now there's just emptiness. You realize Wanda can’t rattle you—she has no leverage because there’s nothing left inside you to disrupt.

You’ve got nothing.

“Y/N?” Wanda presses, her features tightening with concern.

You consider throwing her blunt words right back at her, but you hold off. Instead, you set the clipboard down on the counter with a soft clack. Turning to the medical cart, you grab a tray of needles and tools, then bring it over to her bed. Wanda's eyes widen slightly, and she scoots back as you sit down on the edge of the mattress. It’s satisfying to finally see her react with something other than that usual smug, unshakable attitude. You pick up a syringe, fill it with a bright yellow liquid from an unmarked bottle, and swipe a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the top.

“What’s that?” Wanda asks evenly, though you can detect traces of doubt in it that suggest she’s trying to put up a brave front.

“Supplements.”

Wanda raises a skeptical brow.

You lift the syringe slightly, letting it catch the light so she can see exactly what you’re holding.

“May I?” you gesture toward her arm.

Wanda eyes you warily, then gives a quick nod.

With her consent, you scoot closer until your knees almost touch. You gently roll up the sleeve of her scrubs, exposing her arm. This close, you can see the goosebumps on her skin and feel the slight tremors running through her. You hadn't noticed before, but she's shivering—not from the cold, but probably from a fever.

Instinctively, you press your palm against her forehead. Wanda flinches but doesn’t pull away. Slowly, she settles into your touch and lets out a small sigh.

“You're hot,” you blurt out, and then quickly realize the unintended double entendre. Fortunately, Wanda lets it pass without comment. You retract your hand and hold the syringe up to her arm, poised but something stops you.

“What are you waiting for?” Wanda prompts impatiently.

You're thinking of straying from the usual protocol, knowing the yellow meds might worsen Wanda's condition, especially with her fever spiking. Deciding against it, you put the syringe down and grab another bottle off the cart, this one filled with a clear liquid.

“Change of plans,” you murmur, prepping the new syringe. You nod at her for her arm, and she shifts closer, making it easier for you. When you depress the plunger, it's quick—so quick that Wanda barely feels the needle's prick.

You pull out the needle and press a small bandage onto the spot. “All done,” you announce.

Wanda massages her arm, feeling no real pain at the injection site. “T-Thanks,” she murmurs softly.

You acknowledge her gratitude with a nod and start collecting your notebook and tools. As you rise to leave, Wanda's hand shoots out, her fingers wrapping around your wrist urgently. You turn, meeting her striking, green eyes.

“I’m sorry about your family,” she murmurs quietly. Her words solidify your suspicion: she came to Hydra with powers already in tow. Mind reading or memory extraction would be invaluable to Hydra, and now, with even more power at your fingertips, you find yourself hesitating to use it.

If Dr. List catches wind of your hesitations, the reprisals will be brutal.

You glance down pointedly at where she's holding your hand, but Wanda doesn’t let go.

“It was a long time ago,” you whisper.

“Time doesn't really heal that kind of loss,” she says, still holding onto you.

“No, but you learn to live with it,” you reply, feeling the truth of your own words.

Wanda's hold slackens but remains. You feel awkward standing there, yet something holds you back from pulling away. You hadn't realized until now how starved you were for such a simple, human connection.

“I lost my parents the same way,” she shares.

“I'm sorry,” you say, and you really mean it. You can't read Wanda like she seems to read you, but in this brief moment, with the walls down, you decide to ask, “Is that why you came to us? To avenge your parents?”

Wanda's grip loosens completely, and she lets go of your wrist. You rub the spot where her fingers were, still feeling the warmth she left behind.

“‘Avenge’,” she spits out. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them close. “I hate that word. Pietro and I, we're here to stop them. I wish… I wish they’d just leave Sokovia alone. They won’t leave because we can’t fight back.”

Your own past with Hydra comes to mind as she speaks. Back then, you joined because you were out of options. No country to fight for, no people to call yours. It strikes you how different Wanda's motivations are—rooted in something far more personal and noble. She deserves more than what Hydra can offer.

Wanda looks at you, waiting for an answer. When you don't say anything, she pushes, “Do you think we made the right decision coming here?”

You're all too aware of Hydra’s real agenda. They're not about peace. They're here to extend their control, to bend the world around their so-called divine mission.

“Sometimes, you don't know if it’s the right choice until it's too late to change it,” you say, knowing it’s not much of an answer. It's just the bitter truth you've come to know. It's all you can offer Wanda.

“Can you do me a favor, Y/N? Will you look after Pietro?”

The same way you’ve been looking out for me, Wanda thinks to herself, relieved that there’s only one telepath in the room.

“No promises,” you say.

Wanda gives a slight nod and starts to withdraw again. She settles back down on the cot, turning away from you, the conversation clearly over.

Lev sneaks into your room just before midnight, the door giving a soft creak as it swings open. Though friends, you typically keep to your own spaces. You blink sleepily at him, fighting to sit up and shake off the grogginess.

“Dr. List decided to skip ahead,” Lev says in a rush, closing the door with a gentle click. “He’s moved forward with exposing the twins to the scepter.”

“When?” You're wide awake now, sitting bolt upright in bed.

Lev’s eyes dart to the small window in your room before returning to you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “An hour ago.”

That can’t be good. It’s far sooner than anyone had anticipated. Dr. List’s decision to advance the timeline without further testing could have unpredictable consequences. You swing your legs off the bed, your brain ticking through the possible scenarios.

“What’s the status now? How did Wan—the twins react?” you ask, grabbing your jacket and shoes and throwing them on without taking your eyes off Lev.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They rushed them to the Observation Chamber right after the exposure. Everything’s been kept under wraps.”

You pace a few steps, mulling over your next move. Exposure to the scepter has been lethal for everyone. Even with Wanda's unique abilities, there’s no guarantee she’ll pull through when others haven't.

“We need more information. Can you get access to the observation logs?”

Lev nods, though his expression shows his apprehension. “I’ll try. But security has been tighter since the exposure.”

You catch the anxious twist of his mouth at the idea of sneaking around, and choose to spare him the risk. His relief is palpable when you tell him, “I'll handle it myself.”

He sighs in relief. “Be careful…”

Only a select few can get into the Observation Chamber, and your badge isn’t on that list. You're going to need something stronger than just caution.

You slip your underwear back on, feeling Laura’s eyes tracing the contours of your body.

After Lev left, you headed straight for her. Laura Brown, the Hydra director's daughter, hadn't seen you in almost a year, but the nature of your previous encounters left little doubt she'd be open to reconnecting.

Laura reclines on the bed, a sheet loosely draped around her, smirking as she watches you. “I knew you'd come back eventually,” she purrs, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

You straighten up, deliberately avoiding her eyes as you button your shirt. “I need a favor, Laura.”

She leans back against the headboard, the sheet falling to her waist and revealing her bare chest. “This sounds serious.”

“I need to get into the Observation Chamber. Tonight,” you say. You despise asking her—or anyone, really—for favors, but you need to see Wanda. It's imperative.

Laura's eyebrows go up, her smile growing. “Direct and desperate. What's in it for me?”

“What do you want?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

She thinks it over, then answers, “Keep me company tonight, no strings attached. Just like the old days.”

“Done.”

Laura claps her hands, clearly pleased, and tosses you the badge from the bedside table.

You pick it up, feeling a bit degraded, like you're picking up coins someone's thrown your way. “I'll be right back,” you promise.

The guards give you weird looks as you show up at the Observation Chamber. They had clear orders: only Dr. List or Baron Strucker can go in. But dropping the director’s daughter’s name does the trick. You flash her badge and they let you pass, no more questions asked.

The hallway is pitch-black. This place had been sleeping until now, woken up by the fact that Pietro and Wanda Maximoff hadn’t died like the others who met the scepter. Clearly labeled doors mark the new, grim function of the space.

You think about heading straight to Wanda's room, but you remember her earlier request and decide to check on Pietro first.

The soft beeping of monitors greets you as soon as you step inside his room. He's in rough shape, alive but barely hanging on. You quickly check the chart posted next to the door—it shows low blood pressure and a high dosage of Epinephrine administered, with a note that his chances of survival stand at only 57% as of 11:30 PM.

He looks much thinner and more worn than the last time you saw him, his condition evidently worse. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones. As you move closer, you notice his body trembling, a sheen of sweat covering him despite the room's chill.

Quickly, you pull the extra covers from beneath his bed and wrap them around him, trying to stabilize his shivering. Then, you snag a water bottle from a nearby stand, helping him take slow, measured sips.

Pietro looks at you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain, struggling to form the words. “Who are you?”

“Just someone who made your sister a promise,” you say, scooping up some water in your palm and gently drizzling it over his head. Pietro sighs in relief. “Get some rest now, and try not to die.”

His eyes flutter shut in seconds, his breath smoothing out as sleep claims him. You linger just a moment to make sure he's really out, then hurry off towards Wanda's room. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear pulsing through you. Pietro was in rough shape; how bad might Wanda be? You cling to a shred of hope that she's holding up better.

The air stays heavy as you enter Wanda’s quarters. You tread lightly, making sure not to disturb her sleep, and check the medical chart by her bed. Unlike Pietro’s dire prognosis, Wanda's stats are steady, but still troubling. Her breaths are regular, without the distressing shivers that torment her brother.

What strikes you is how normal, how peacefully she's sleeping, despite her recent exposure to Loki’s scepter.

Relieved to see her condition isn’t more severe, you end up at the foot of her bed. There isn’t much to do after confirming she’s stable, and you know you should head back to Laura. But leaving Wanda’s side proves difficult once you're there. Almost immediately, your mind floods with ideas on how to get her out of Hydra’s clutches. If they fully realized her potential, it wouldn't just be dangerous for her—it'd be catastrophic for anyone in their path. Internally, you start plotting escape routes and thinking about who might be willing to help.

It’s strange to think how you went from one of Hydra’s most devoted agents to scheming against them.

Lost in your plans, you're jolted back to the present when you feel a gentle nudge against your thigh. Wanda's foot is pressing against you. She's awake. You look up to find her eyes open, wary and searching.

“Y/N,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from lack of use. “What—what happened?”

You subtly shift on the bed, making sure her toes aren't touching you anymore. You're not sure when you became so acutely aware of Wanda’s proximity, or of the points where your bodies meet.

“What do you remember before all this?” you ask.

She rubs her forehead, straining to recall. “There was a room... a stone emerging from the scepter. Bright lights… then nothing.”

You nod, already knowing half of what Wanda just told you. This is the first time anyone has lived to tell about their experience with the scepter, and you were hoping for more insights into how it unleashes its power. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about trying it yourself, wondering if you could resist its effects. Being Hydra, curiosity about power was a constant temptation.

“You weren't supposed to be exposed to the scepter yet,” you admit quietly. “Dr. List sped things up, maybe because he suspected—”

“Pietro,” she cuts in, her thoughts finally catching up. “Was he exposed to it too?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widen, clouded with worry. “Is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” you say. “I just saw him before coming here. He's stable, but it’s precarious.”

Wanda’s face crumples as soon as the words leave your lips. Before you can react, she throws her arms around you, her face buried in your shoulder. You freeze for a moment, uncertain how to respond. It’s been so long since you’ve held someone like this, since you’ve allowed yourself to care enough to even consider it. But then you feel it—tears, warm and wet against your neck. She’s crying.

After a moment, you hesitantly wrap your arms around her, holding her as she trembles against you. You can feel her fear, her desperation. It cuts through your defenses, the ones you’ve built so carefully over the years.

You tighten your hold on her, offering what little comfort you can, but inside, you’re battling your own fear. You can’t afford to care about her this much—not here, not now. But as you hold her, feeling every shake of her body, you know it’s already too late.

Wanda's sobs slowly subside, and you pull back slightly, intent on offering some kind of reassurance despite how foreign it feels to you. You reach up, brushing away her tears with your thumb, trying to find the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, as your hand lingers on her cheek, she pins you with a quiet stare. Before you realize what’s happening, Wanda leans in and presses her lips softly against yours.

The kiss is brief, just a fraction of a second, but it leaves you utterly breathless. She pulls back almost immediately, watching you, waiting to see how you’ll react. For a heartbeat, you're stunned, but then something ignites inside you, something you’ve been holding back without even recognizing it.

Acting on pure impulse, you reach up, grasp the back of her neck, and pull her in for another kiss. In an instant, you take control effortlessly, letting the animalistic and Hydra part of you come to the forefront. Your thumb presses roughly against her chin, coaxing her mouth open, and you slide your tongue in, staking your claim. Wanda responds with a gasp, her hands clutching at your shoulders, but you’re too far gone to think about anything except the taste of her, the way her body molds against yours.

You tilt her head back, deepening the kiss further, your other hand sliding down to grip her waist, pulling her closer still. The feel of her, the heat of her skin under your fingers, it’s intoxicating, and you can’t get enough. You've never allowed yourself to want someone this much. Just as you think you can't hold back any longer, Wanda's hand captures yours and guides it under her shirt. You're startled to find out she's wearing nothing underneath when your knuckles brush against her hardened nipple. That unexpected discovery is what compels you to pull back.

Wanda's lips leave yours with a wet sound, and she begins kissing down your jaw to your neck.

“Wanda, wait—”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she says. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you feel her tongue trace a line up to your pulse point, leaving a fiery trail that makes you shiver. “You can claim your reward, you can have me.”

Her words snap you out of the haze, that single word—reward—ringing in your ears like a warning bell. You quickly place your hands on her shoulders, pushing her back gently but firmly.

Wanda blinks, confusion and hurt flashing in her eyes as she looks up at you. “What’s wrong?” She knows she’s attractive and has already glimpsed your desire for her during your visits, reading it in your thoughts. It’s why she finds your rejection so absurd—frustrating, even, given her openness.

“I'm not here for that,” you say, your voice coming out rougher than you intended.

“Then why are you here?”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, unaccustomed to openly discussing your feelings. “I came to see how you're doing after... after the scepter.”

“I'm fine,” she answers flatly.

You nod, still feeling the residual heat of her closeness. “Do you feel any different?” you ask, partly out of concern but mostly to shift the conversation elsewhere.

“I'm just tired,” Wanda says, closing her eyes and running a hand through her tousled dark hair. “Can we do this tomorrow?” She sounds a bit let down, assuming you're here just for a routine check—looking for any new powers or changes—as if she had hoped for something more personal.

“I'm sorry,” you quickly say. “I’m not here on any official orders. In fact, I shouldn't even be here.”

This revelation softens her look, her eyes narrowing slightly with renewed interest.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I'm working on getting you and Pietro out of here. It's not set yet, but—”

“Out of here?” Wanda cuts in, her eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. “Why would I want to leave?”

“You got what you came for, right? The power of the scepter? Now you can leave. Hydra isn’t what you think,” you explain, trying to make her see the danger.

“Look who's acting all self-righteous all of a sudden. You've been here for years, and I've seen you do things,” she retorts sharply.

“Stop looking into my mind,” you snap, irritated by her knack for sifting through your thoughts without permission and using your past against you. Just because she can doesn’t mean she should.

“You’re saying I’m wrong?” she sneers.

You shake your head. “Look, I’m just trying to help—”

“If you really want to help, just do your job.”

Her words hit you harder than any physical blow could. You knew better than to let someone get this close, to allow your emotions to cloud your judgment. But there’s no one to blame here but yourself. Wanda didn't even have to do much to earn your solicitude; it was your own doing, your own need to make things right that led you here.

Hydra’s training kicks in like second nature, and you shut down the emotions before they can show, your face hardening into a mask.

“Alright, Wanda. I'll do just that.”

It’s easier the second time you’re with Laura that night.

After Wanda's dismissal, you find Laura’s body to be the comfort you need. You lose yourself in her, the way she responds to every touch, every move you make. Pushing everything else from your mind, you focus solely on her, making her come again and again until she’s too bone-tired to do anything but black out beside you.

After it's over, you slip out of her bed, leaving her to sleep off the night’s weariness, and return to your room. You don't think about Wanda. Not even once.

In the following days, Wanda's recovery is swift—too swift for your level of clearance. Dr. List decides she’s beyond your oversight and assigns her to a higher clearance team. You’re left dealing with new recruits, volunteers who are eager yet naïve, none of whom survive the brutal exposure to the scepter. Each failure hardens you a little more, cements the necessity of detachment.

But even with countless deaths on their hands, Hydra doesn't back down. If anything, they’re more driven now, hungry for more power, spurred on by the success of the twins. Pietro develops superhuman speed, a skill Hydra quickly puts to use by dispatching him to enemy territories for intel. Wanda’s abilities become more varied, showing signs of what could be categorized as psionic powers. She demonstrates capabilities that suggest telekinesis, manipulating objects without touching them, and telepathy—which she employs at her whim.

Sometimes you wonder if she ever peeks into your mind anymore. But then, with the kind of power she wields, why would she even bother with what you're thinking? You're not special. Not even your badge, which doesn't get you into sections of the base without currying favor with Laura Brown first.

The Sokovian base is sprawling, and encounters with either of the Maximoff twins are rare but unavoidable. Pietro remembers your visit that night. Now and then, he nods at you politely. Wanda, on the other hand, acts as if you don’t exist. If you pass her in the hallways, she looks through you as if you're invisible. So, you make it a point to stay out of her way, blending into the dull walls and shadows as much as you can.

This detachment suits you in a way. It allows you to focus on your duties, on surviving one day at a time in an environment where the stakes are always high and the consequences often lethal.

It leaves you with nothing to lose, because there's no one left to lose.

Weeks pass quietly until rumors start floating around that Wanda's been seeing someone inside the complex. It’s hard to call it dating, really, since concepts like love and trust struggle to take root in a place as bleak as this. It’s probably just two people keeping each other company through the colder nights. Still, you can’t shake off how much this bothers you.

But it's not surprising. The twins' popularity has only grown, especially since, months later, no one else has matched their extraordinary feat of surviving an Infinity Stone—a term you picked up only after Hydra discovered what was really behind Loki's scepter.

Sometimes, you find yourself observing Wanda from afar, trying to figure out if there’s any substance to the rumors. Who makes her laugh? Who does she choose to sit with at meals? The more you notice your own scrutiny, the more you recognize a feeling of jealousy stirring within you, an emotion that’s prevalent among your peers but not in this regard. You're bewildered and annoyed by your own reaction—why should who Wanda spends time with matter to you? Whatever she does, whoever she fucks—it's none of your business.

You hate this feeling, but you combat it by heading to Laura’s room every night, as if she’s the cure you need to keep yourself in check.

“They’ll betray us someday,” Lev murmurs as you both amble through the dense woods, taking a rare break from the base for a smoke. He breathes out slowly, watching the smoke curl upwards. You don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about the twins.

“No sooner than Hydra will throw us under the bus when the Avengers show up,” you reply, stepping around a fallen branch. “We’re all expendable. You know that, right?”

Lev takes a deep drag, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead. “Yeah, I know,” he says at last, releasing a plume of smoke. There’s something in his eyes, a look that tells you he’s not saying all he could about the twins.

You eye him suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Lev glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's deciding how much to share. After a moment, he nods.

“Okay, I wasn't planning on telling you this yet, but I've been handed a special assignment—the Maximoff Contingency Plan,” he reveals.

You scoff at him. “You’re the contingency plan?”

“No, not just me,” Lev chuckles darkly as he tosses his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. “I'm involved, but it's more than that. We're working on a weapon, one that borrows from the tech of the Infinity Stone.”

The seriousness of what he's saying sinks in. Leveraging the power of an Infinity Stone means they're not messing around.

“And what's this weapon supposed to do?” you ask, not sure if you want to hear the answer.

Lev’s expression darkens. “You know what weapons are supposed to do,” he says tersely, turning to head back. “Let’s go.”

Hydra does not tolerate treachery. Even the mildest punishment is a swift death—a quick end, but an end all the same.

It’s only a matter of time before the Avengers find the Sokovian Base. Tensions had been mounting and Hydra's movements had become increasingly aggressive, drawing unwanted attention. When it all goes down, you’re in your room, scrambling to suit up and arm yourself with pistols—not to confront the Avengers, who are essentially gods, but to fight for your way out.

As the base descends into turmoil, you hear that Wanda and Pietro are attempting to escape. Hydra has a ruthless protocol for such situations: eliminate the entire unit to prevent any leaks. It's cleaner to destroy and rebuild than to let loose ends compromise the organization. Knowing about the contingency plan to eliminate the twins, you grab your radio and contact Lev, asking where he is.

“You’re just in time. I need backup. I've got Wanda Maximoff in my sights, waiting for the right moment to take her down,” he radios back.

“On it, I’m with you,” you reply, feeling the sweat bead on your forehead as you move toward his location. When you get there, you find Lev, poised and ready, his eyes fixed on the target through the scope of his rifle. You scan the surroundings, looking for hazards until you spot Wanda among the debris. Iron Man's missiles have turned the area into a deadly maze of flying rocks. From her fingertips, streams of red magic swirl, skillfully steering the massive boulders away from crushing both Hydra agents and civilians.

Wanda isn’t trying to escape—she’s helping fend them off. Seeing her save these lives, something inside you breaks. Lev has his rifle aimed at her, ready to pull the trigger while she's busy playing the hero. The possible outcomes flash through your mind: Wanda dead or imprisoned by the Avengers. The thought is unbearable. You've spent months pretending you didn't care, but now, faced with the reality of losing her, you realize all you want is for her to live, to be free—something you've long given up for yourself.

You're about to dissuade Lev, to argue her worth, her potential, anything to stall, when an explosion nearby startles Wanda. She turns, momentarily distracted, and Lev's finger tightens on the trigger, ready to end it all.

But you're faster.

He collapses with a shocked gasp, the life leaving his eyes as he hits the ground. The noise of his body falling draws Wanda’s attention. She turns just in time to see what you've done—for her. Her eyes, wide and questioning, boring into yours.

Why did you save me? They seem to ask you, those green orbs that have hunted you ever since you looked into them. There's no time for lengthy explanations—not that you have a solid one anyway. But with each passing second, the chance of escaping undetected by these so-called superheroes dwindles.

“You need to leave, now!” you yell at her, but she doesn't budge. Instead, she looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time with something other than disdain. It’s the same look she gave you the night the scepter awakened her powers. It’s a look that tells you that maybe she’s been pretending too, these past few months.

You’re about to sprint toward her, to drag her to safety if you have to, when a blur of motion sweeps her away. Pietro appears out of nowhere, whisking them both out of the base before the Avengers close in.

For a second, you're left standing there, surrounded by the wreckage and the friend you just betrayed and killed. There's no time to grieve, no time to second-guess leaving his body behind—it's pure instinct that forces you to move quickly. You head towards an exit known only to the most important figures of the organization, a piece of information you picked up from Laura. She wouldn’t have given it away if you weren’t frequently sleeping together, those personal liaisons caused by trying to forget Wanda.

It’s strange, in a way, how you both just ended up saving each other.

Several weeks after the Avengers demolish the Sokovian base, Wanda finds you at a small cabin you own on the outskirts of Novi Grad. The modest structure sits on a 2-acre plot near the woods—a spot you picked up when your stint in Sokovia stretched past thirteen months. You never really planned on settling here; you thought you’d be moved to another location and sell this land at a profit eventually. But life, it seems, had other plans.

You’re chopping wood beside the cabin when you feel her presence. Dropping the axe, you straighten up and spot her at the edge of the clearing. Your eyes quickly sweep her surroundings for any sign of Pietro, but it appears she has come alone.

“Why did you do it?” she asks once she's close enough. You take a few moments to take her in, hardly believing she's actually here, and touched by the thought that she sought you out. You've missed her presence, even though the last few months have only found you both inhabiting the same compound, breathing the same air but never speaking.

Sometimes, lying in bed at night, you wonder why you can’t shake Wanda from your thoughts. You’ve even entertained the idea that she might have hexed you, that her magic has somehow ensnared your mind and… maybe your heart. It seems like the only logical explanation, because since the day you met, Wanda has never really left your mind.

“I did what I thought was right,” you finally answer, tucking your hands inside your pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.

“He was your friend,” Wanda points out softly.

Your lips curl into a strained smile; of course, she’d know. She knows things about you that you'd never voice out loud. Wanda’s ability to read minds makes hiding anything impossible. Does she understand how deeply you care for her? She must. Wanda has always seen right through you, so why does she need to ask?

“Did you ever think about me after that night?” she asks out of nowhere. The night the Infinity Stone changed everything, when you were closer to her than you’d ever been before.

You're taken aback by her directness. This, too, she probably knows the answer to because you've thought of little else.

“Everyday,” you say.

That night, you invite her to your home, the first person ever to share the space you once believed would always be just yours. Your living room is snug, with a three-seater couch and a medium-sized TV mounted on the wall. There’s also a fireplace that lights up the space with an amber glow as you hand Wanda a cup of hot chocolate.

You and Wanda find yourselves chatting about lighter topics. She shares her favorite shows from childhood, and you're surprised to learn she’s a big fan of American sitcoms. You enjoyed them too when you were younger, but not to the extent that you'd watch entire seasons over and over like Wanda did. Your preference leaned more toward books, gobbling up Agatha Christie novels when you were younger.

While you're in the middle of sharing a particularly funny memory from one of those old sitcom episodes, Wanda suddenly leans in and kisses you. Though your first instinct is to dive back into the kiss, you pull back instead. The last time you were this close, things escalated quickly before they crashed and burned.

“Are you sure?” you ask, searching her eyes for an answer. Learning from past mistakes, you want to make sure it's what she really wants.

She nods, her eyes steady and invitingly dark. “I’m sure.”

You close the distance between you, kissing her to your heart’s content. Before long, clothes are discarded, and you move from the couch to the bed, leisurely exploring each other, discovering how to bring one another to new heights of pleasure.

As you lie next to her afterward, breathless and tangled in the sheets, you realize there’s no way to pretend anymore—you care too much to go back.

The quiet doesn’t last long.

Tony Stark’s experiment goes awry, giving rise to Ultron—a global threat with ambitions that soon become clear. It seeks to bring about what he perceives as peace, by any means necessary. And just when you thought you and Wanda might have found some peace, she tells you she’s joining Ultron.

“It’s too dangerous,” you tell her. The twins and a robot against the entire Avengers team? The numbers alone put the odds against them. “We can stay here, help the people around us, and actually make a real difference.”

She shakes her head, her jaw set. “You don’t get it,” she argues. “You never will. You’re not…”

Special. Go ahead, Wanda, say it. Say what you really think of me.

“...you don’t have powers. You don’t know what it’s like to be able to change things and then just stand by, powerless.”

You were bracing for it, but it hurts all the same.

“So what am I then, Wanda? Just a bystander? Someone not worth listening to because I don't have powers?”

“I’m saying I have to do this,” Wanda mutters solemnly. “I’m the only one who can do this.”

You can see in her eyes that she’s already made up her mind. You’re still racking up your brain for something that might make a difference but she speaks again.

“I’m doing this for Sokovia,” she says quietly. “For everyone who's suffered because of Stark.”

You say nothing. Her fierce loyalty is one of the things you adore about her.

Wanda steps closer, her hand reaching out to touch your face, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll come back,” she promises. “When this is over, I’ll come back to you.”

You nod, resigned to the reality that you must let her go. “I’ll be here,” you say, your voice thick with regret that you can’t do more to protect her, to make sure she’s safe. “Waiting for you, right here.”

Pietro Maximoff dies riddled with bullet wounds—over a dozen of them. You learn the details of his death through a tabloid, days after witnessing Novi Grad being torn from the ground.

A week later, Wanda comes back to you, just as she promised, but she’s not the same. The light in her eyes is gone, replaced by a ghostly void. It’s a look you know all too well, the same one you’ve seen staring back at you in the mirror for years.

A loss of purpose.

In the days that follow, you try to restore some normalcy, but nothing feels right. You cook meals she barely touches, sit beside her during long stretches of silence, and listen when she occasionally finds the strength to talk. It's tough, seeing her struggle, but you stay by her side, hoping things will begin to heal.

But they don’t.

Every day, you see it—the guilt, the pain, the loss. She tries to find reasons to keep going, but nothing seems to hold. And as much as you want to be the one to help her, to pull her out of this darkness, you know you're not enough. Not this time.

Wanda is adrift, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t anchor her to this life you’re trying to build. She’s lost her brother, her home, and whatever sense of justice she thought she could achieve by joining Ultron. And you—you’ve been running from your past for so long, and you’re simply tired of it.

You start thinking about what’s best for her, about what she needs to move on and find a new purpose. Deep down, you recognize that maybe the best way for her to truly heal is if you step aside.

Like Wanda, you don’t trust Stark. So, with the skills you’ve honed during your time with Hydra, you manage to find a way to contact Steve Rogers instead.

The conversation happens one afternoon, over a phone call. You tell him everything—your past with Hydra, the things you’ve done, and why you’re ready to turn yourself in. He listens without interrupting, letting you confess everything. You mention that Wanda's with you, and make it clear this isn't about trying to reclaim some lost sense of patriotism. You're doing it for her.

“You did the right thing by coming to me,” Steve says when you finish. “Wanda has so much potential. She deserves a chance to become who she’s meant to be.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper. You’ve known it all along, perhaps better than anyone. It’s why you’re doing this, even though it feels like tearing yourself apart.

Over the course of the conversation, you and Steve work out an agreement. You’ll serve a reduced sentence in exchange for all the intel you have on the remaining Hydra heads still out there. You’ll act as an informant, helping to bring them to an end, once and for all. And maybe, after you’ve paid your dues, there’ll be a chance for you to live something close to a normal life. When the call ends, you're washed over with a feeling of real freedom, despite knowing it might cost you Wanda all over again.

Later that night, you find Wanda in the kitchen, stirring a pot and humming a tune you don't recognize, looking more alive than she has in weeks. Seeing her like this is bittersweet; she’s here, but soon, you might not be.

She notices you and gives a small, relieved smile. “You’re back,” she says.

“Yeah, I had a craving for this specific brand of red wine…” You say, tossing out a casual lie since you did swing by the grocery store, and errands are a regular part of your routine.

“Red wine?” Wanda perks up. “Perfect, I’m just about done with dinner. It should pair nicely.”

The kitchen smells foreign but amazing, and you can't help but compliment her. “It smells incredible in here,” you say as you start setting the table.

Wanda smiles softly as she turns down the stove and grabs a bowl to serve. You set out two wine glasses and place them on the table.

You pour a generous amount of red wine into each glass and watch as Wanda carries the meal over.

“Thanks for dinner,” you say with genuine appreciation.

“Try it and tell me what you think,” she urges, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches you with anticipation.

You take a bite, the flavors unique and perfectly blended. Looking up, you see her watching you, eager for your reaction.

“Well?” she asks impatiently.

You laugh, then wipe the corners of your mouth with your thumb. “Don't you already know?” you tease, hinting at her telepathic abilities.

Wanda pretends to be offended, crossing her arms. “I haven’t read your mind in a long time.”

You can’t help but be a little skeptical of her claim. “Since when?”

Wanda blinks, her gaze veering away as she hesitates, clearly not eager to revisit the memory.

You give her a gentle nudge, mimicking her earlier prodding “Well?”

Wanda turns to face you, her bottom lip pushed out slightly in a pout. “Since I saw you were sleeping with the director’s daughter.”

Saw? Did she see everything I did with Laura? The thought that Wanda witnessed it all like a scene playing out in front of her makes your stomach twist. You blush, mortified. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you mumble, looking away.

Wanda shakes her head, trying to dispel her lingering jealousy. “I shouldn't have been peering into your head that much to begin with,” she says softly.

Your ears catch on a particular phrase. “‘That much’?”

It’s Wanda’s turn to blush, her cheeks flushing deeper as she quickly downs the rest of her wine and then holds out her glass for a refill. Deciding to show some mercy, you pour her another glass without prying further. The conversation stalls into an awkward silence until you finally decide to break it by giving your verdict on the dinner.

“By the way, this is delicious,” you say, adding another serving to your plate.

Wanda's face lights up, her smile stretching so wide that she looks almost like a giddy child. But then, she is young. You can’t help but imagine how she'll fit in with them. Steve, in particular, seems like he’d be good for her. Even though you don't know him well, that one phone call was enough to get a sense of his character and leadership. He seems like the kind of guy who'd really look out for Wanda, in ways you can't.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Wanda suddenly asks.

Your smile falls a little, but you manage to keep it there. You wish she could read your mind now, that she could understand the choices you’ve made today better than you could ever explain them. You’re not abandoning her—you’re setting her free from this life. You've done too many unspeakable things to ever truly deserve a quiet life with her. Eventually, your past will catch up to you, and the opportunity for Wanda to do something good might slip away if she’s still tied to you. You wish she could see how much you care for her, how much she’s changed you. Because of her, you’ve felt the desire to be good again, to be human again. To open yourself not just to grief, but also to love.

You wish—

“Maybe we can visit that lake you mentioned? I've spent my whole life in Sokovia but never really left Novi Grad,” Wanda suggests.

“Rain check?” you say, trying your best to sound like tomorrow isn’t goodbye. Steve wanted to move quickly, and you’ll be expecting him and a small squad tomorrow, no later than noon. “I’m thinking I might just stay in, catch up on some reading.”

Wanda cocks her head, a puzzled look on her face. You’ve been the one pushing her to get out of the cabin more, so your answer isn’t what she’s expecting. But she likes the idea. She just wants to spend time with you. The hole Pietro left in her heart is only bearable when she’s with you.

“Okay,” she mumbles, starting to clear the dishes. You place a hand over hers, silently telling her you’ll take care of it later. Leaning in, you plant a soft kiss on her lips.

“You want to go to bed early?” you whisper quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She looks up at you, a playful gasp escaping her lips.

“Just to sleep,” you add quickly. I just want to hold you all night, one last time.

“I might not be sleepy right off the bat, maybe if you tire me out—”

“Naughty,” you chuckle softly, giving her nose a gentle tap.

“You love it.”

“I—” Love you. You want to say it, but you don’t want to make it harder for you both when the time comes.

Without another word, you grab her hand, holding on to this moment, to her, for as long as you can.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff #gender neutral reader #hydra #avengers age of ultron #Steve Rogers

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chelseeebe · 6 months ago

Text

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply.

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good.

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start.

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams.

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor.

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to.

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity.

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself.

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend.

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.”

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers.

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t.

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van.

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night.

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds.

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top.

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction.

holy fuck.

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too.

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow.

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him.

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp.

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.”

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool.

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing.

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play.

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side.

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind.

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off.

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!”

okay maybe he was being a little weird.

who cares?

definitely not eddie.

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed.

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead.

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much?

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own.

fuck fuck fuck.

why does this keep happening?

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage.

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career.

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him.

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him.

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm.

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back.

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse.

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really.

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along.

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing.

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust.

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest.

nothing major.

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back.

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her.

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening.

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand.

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about?

had he done something wrong?

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..”

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.”

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans.

nothing. not even a twitch.

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift.

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment.

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go.

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no.

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.”

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van.

just as he deserved.

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention.

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him.

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story.

he can’t stand it.

you have to go.

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life.

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did.

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way.

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time.

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?”

shit.

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing.

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person.

but so were you.

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway.

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably.

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close.

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up.

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights.

that’s what he’s praying for anyway.

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage.

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig.

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod.

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual.

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say.

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile.

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead.

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.”

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words.

oh shit.

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out.

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too.

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for.

wait wait wait.

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be.

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on.

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to.

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too.

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth.

shit, maybe he was.

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties.

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved.

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why.

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was.

but that wasn’t it.

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit.

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you.

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big.

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure.

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you.

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain.

you don’t turn up that night, obviously.

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind.

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was.

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case.

there’s only one place he can think about going.

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now.

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to.

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off.

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up.

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face.

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer.

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head.

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had.

because that was it, really.

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too.

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else.

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you.

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water.

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter.

woah.

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you.

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man?

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face.

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you.

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin.

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check.

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it.

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help.

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here.

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it.

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t.

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in.

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played.

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it.

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation.

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology.

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer.

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him.

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly.

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd.

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you.

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons.

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel.

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.”

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth.

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest.

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?”

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.”

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives.

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression.

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone.

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones.

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him.

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red.

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute.

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum.

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him.

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs.

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #request #eddie munson x female reader

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earthtooz · 2 years ago

Text

x : DON'T GO :*+ﾟ

in which: blade has always felt cold, but even more so without you.

warnings: 1.9k words, HURT/COMFORT with a sprinkle of angst, gn!reader who calls blade 'ren' once, mention of blood, ooc!vulnerable!blade, he's like a kicked puppy in this one

a/n: perhaps the most intimate piece i've wrote to date, this is nothing but pure yearning and longing on blade's behalf, and a nice fix-it fic with the most vulnerable i think blade could ever be. enjoy!!

in his new life, blade has always felt cold.

he is not spared from the constant feeling of goosebumps prickling his skin, not even for a second as the cold bites the tip of his fingers and sink their teeth into him to send shivers up his spine. but he has never felt colder than he does right now.

your side of the bed is untouched, perfectly made, and devoid of any indication that you had been there. the blankets and mattress are cool to touch, with hardly any wrinkles in the sheets, and an ache declares itself home in blade’s chest.

the sun spills on his bare skin when he kicks the covers off, illuminating his scar-ridden chest as he gazes around the room, as if waiting for an sign that you were still here, and that he wasn’t too late. however, an immediate soreness tickles his throat that causes him to wince, serving as a reminder of the unpleasant discourse you had last night.

it was hardly over anything of importance, but blade, a man of pride and relentlessness, had refused to back down, and you went to bed angry that night. he did too but woke regretful and cold under the covers, your warmth taken with you.

today was the day you had to leave for a mission, and although he knows you have a strict schedule to follow, he just wonders why you couldn’t have woken him up to say goodbye, especially after everything.

he didn’t even get to say sorry or try to at least make amends. the swordsman only hopes you didn’t leave furious with him, and that you at least had something to eat before leaving.

to distract himself from the heartache, blade forgoes lying around and decides to start his day before the absence you left overwhelms him and the only thing his mind can do is think about you.

not that he’s successful, because despite dedicating a monotonous afternoon of drilling sword techniques, the rampant thoughts about you did not decrease. rather, with each swing and sway of the cracked blade, his mind finds more and more to think about, with you at the epicentre of all of them.

it’s sometime around sunset when blade receives update on your status.

the swordsman is sat on a stone ledge, gold rays from the sun spilling on his skin as he waits for the sweat and fatigue to roll off. blade thinks of how you’d normally be seated nearby, watching him train to supply water and energy bars. although he never used to like the company or the doting, it doesn’t feel the same without you beside him, he misses you and wonders when you’ll return.

“how long have you been here?” a raspy, female voice asks, breaking blade’s train of thoughts.

“since noon,” he responds merely. he doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s kafka talking to him.

“right. makes sense. i thought you’d be lonely since y/n’s gone.”

“need you remind me?” he huffs, voice teetering a threatening gruffness that would make ordinary people shudder, but does nothing to kafka.

“oh, spicy today, aren’t we?” she coos, ignoring the immense pressure radiating off blade effortlessly before taking a seat beside him. “what’s up? is there trouble in paradise?” a scoff comes from the swordsman. “i was only joking, did something really happen between you two?”

“none of your business.”

kafka shrugs before her phone begins vibrating violently. when she reads the notifications, her face pulls the closest expression to concern that blade has ever seen her wear.

“y/n got ambushed.”

his world freezes over.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the sunlight is gentle in blade’s eyes when he wakes up.

clothes are strewn on the floor, bedsheets are half off the bed, ceramics lie in pieces along the cracks of the planks, and despite the mess blade has made of your shared space, he is the most crumpled of them all. a kaleidoscope of volcanic anger, tsunamic worry, and mountainous yearning, the only place that has remained untouched by blade’s destructive touch is your side of the bed, lest your scent disappears.

it’s been five days since anyone has received a live update from you, only hanging on to tracking notifications of your spaceship as any indication that you were fine. for the duration of it, nothing has been able to calm him, with kafka and silver wolf needing to stun him before he could do anything brash, like running off into the infinite cosmos to find you.

elio’s promises had never felt emptier, his constant claims of how you’d return very soon turning into dust in blade’s ears because how could he hold on to hope when you are alone amongst the stars?

his texts are left delivered, but never read. in fact, it has been five days since your contact displayed to be online, and he finds himself staring at it in case that the circle will illuminate green, that you’ll give him some sort of update on your liveliness.

so that you’ll see how sorry he is and all he wants for you is to return home.

he doesn’t remember when he became so dependent, but perhaps this is another cruel punishment from fate with another inconceivable price of repentance.

for someone as unforgivable and despicable as blade to love means to mutilate the universe with aftershocks that tear through boundaries of what’s possible. for a man like blade to rebel, it means that the consequences will return tenfold.

and there is no crueller damnation than tearing you away from him.

he turns on his side, arms reaching over to where you would normally lie, and dozes off again, feeling colder than ever.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

blade wakes up a second time. the sun is no longer the thing that awakens him, but rather, the sound of footsteps that echo outside the bedroom. disgruntled and still trying to gather his bearings, he shoots awake at the sound of your door opening.

you stand on the other side.

is this a dream?

“oh,” you breathe. you sound winded, caught off guard by the sight of your lover who stares at you like a bewildered deer. “i’m sorry, i didn’t think you would be here.”

he doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you, unnervingly unresponsive.

you look miserable. fatigue clings to your skin like a second skin, your eyes lack the brightness they usually have, and you are, evidently, very battered and bruised, blood staining your ruined clothes.

but you are like sunlight, and blade thinks he can breathe again.

“i guess i’ll leave,” you murmur, interrupting blade’s momentary assessment.

“don’t.”

turning back around, the swordsman is now slowly stalking towards you, seemingly teleported from the bed to halfway across the room in the blink of an eye.

“is something wrong?” you ask and he holds back a scoff from the irony of your question. he’s the one that should be asking that, not you.

but yes, there is something wrong; you left him alone. you went somewhere he couldn’t and then made him feel helpless because he didn’t know whether or not you were going to come back, stranded in the cosmos forever.

stopping before you, his hands gravitate upwards with the magnetic need to touch you, to ensure that you were real and not some figment of his hazy imagination. blade raises a hesitant hand to sit on the back of your neck and the frostiness of his fingertips causes a shiver to run up your spine. gently, he presses you for a pulse and visibly gulps when he finds it, suffocating you in the tense silence that has occupied the air (you’re real, and you’re okay, delivered back to him in one piece).

then, he looks at you with the saddest expression you have ever seen him wear before engulfing you in his embrace. the stellaron hunter is hesitant with his touch, hovering around you in fear of overstepping, for blade would never forgive himself if he were to scare you off again.

because you’re finally back where he can reach, and he never wants you to leave.

“ren?” you pause, gently wrapping your arms around his waist and closing the gap he left, meeting him halfway. the little action floods him with endless relief. “what’s the matter?”

he shakes his head against you and his hold tightens mercilessly, squeezing all air out of your lungs.

“you had me worried,” he confesses, no louder than a whisper because otherwise he would crack under the weight of his own words. the constant fear that has plagued him for the last few days would finally break him and he’d be in shambles in your arms, making a mess of something gorgeous with something hideous.

so instead, he will continue simply holding onto you where you are safe. in his arms, you cannot leave, you cannot go places that danger you, and you cannot break his heart and choke him with the emptiness of your presence.

“i’m sorry,” you say, rubbing his back and he tugs you closer. “i didn’t mean to worry you, everything jus-”

“-you left without saying goodbye.”

you’re silent and guilty, but so beautiful. “i thought you didn’t want to see me. we were pretty mean to each other before i left,” you say after a second of contemplation. “i didn’t know where we stood, i wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.”

whatever is left of his heart breaks, crumbling into shambles that ring at your feet. there are a multitude of things that blade wants to say, yet no words come to fruition, to his dismay. he wants to offer you the comfort and promises you want to hear, and he wants to express the overwhelming relief he feels, but he can’t, and he curses his own inability to be heartfelt.

instead, his grip around you tightens, like you’ll slip away otherwise and have him search for you throughout the cosmos.

“don’t do any of that again,” he pleads instead, hoping that you’ll understand. “i beg of you.”

“okay,” you breathe. “i won’t.”

“don’t leave like that,” he tugs at your ruined shirt, grasp gentle and careful in fear of scaring you away with the intensity of his emotions that are hanging on by a thread

“i wont.”

“please don’t go.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

blade sighs, nodding. you smile at him and it feels like a warmth powerful enough to drive the cold away.

“but first, i need a bath,” you murmur, placing your hands on his chest to push him away. “please, keep your distance, i’m pretty sure i reek.”

he doesn’t say anything and clearly doesn’t listen, because instead of letting go, he simply leads you to the bathroom without ever unwrapping his arms. soon, the bath begins to run, and the sound of water streaming down ceramic echoes off the tiles, but the warmth of your laughter and tired words overpower it. blade sits at the edge, nothing but an oversized shadow that watches as you relax in the water, frowning when he catches the frequent bruise or fresh scar.

afterwards, you both stumble onto the bed (careful to avoid the mess that blade as made, which you scolded him for, and he listened dejectedly before promising to clean it all up), and blade reaches over to your side, chest warming when he finds your figure to tug close.

you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. your lover, on the other hand, stays awake for a few moments longer, simply trying to commit you to memory.

“don’t go,” he repeats, tugging at your shirt as the evenness of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep.

he doesn’t feel cold anymore.

#blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #ren x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn!reader #blade x gn!reader #blade fluff #blade x reader fluff #earthtooz: HSR

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lomlompurim · 1 year ago

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What if instead of waking up in the mushroom body, sqq woke up in a doll.

Something something while lbh was away in the abyss, sqq without noticing offended a misterious (demonic-succubi-esque???) cultivator with a weird thing for making dolls. She had dolls all over her secret workshop that she very kindly let him into when she heard about the famous Xiu Ya sword being in the city.

What she wanted of him? Who knows, sqq couldn't bring himself to care. She probably wanted his money or try to steal his hair, the hair of those dolls seemed very much like real hair, although he had to admit the level of details on these dolls were amazing.

(she wanted to trick him into buying one of her cursed dolls and steal his life energy little by little, but got wifebeamed by widow sqq during their conversation about how talented she was to be able to make so many dolls, and without really understanding he rejected her with little to no emotion on his face)

So she cursed him, and since sqq didn't feel anything bad at the moment he thought it just didn't work and left, not sparing the curse a single thought after their encounter.

The rest of the story goes as usual, excep that after he self detonates his soul doesn't go into the mushroom body, instead it got directly into the shape of a doll in the workshop of this woman.

His first thought is thinking someone snitched the mushroom body bc wtf wasn't he supposed to wake up under the dirt??? Why this place smells slightly familiar? Like paint and humidity and floral perfumes?? and why everything looks fucking giganourmus?!?! A teapot should NOT look that big from his position....Oh no, did the mushroom body turned out as small as a squirrel? WhAT is happening?!

And then he looks at his arms and legs, and he has joints. White paper skin with joints in his wrists, elbows, torso, waist, knees, feet. And he panics, a lot.

The woman who cursed him starts monologuing about how she trapped him now, and you are mine, I made this doll specially for you master shen, this is my revenge for your insolence to leave me yada yada- Sqq stoped listening a while ago.

Somehow he manages to escape from this woman and now he is roaming around as the size of some apples. Everything is huge. Everything is dangerous, even the grasshopers! And this body is fragile! He can't feel heat nor cold, neither hunger or other things, but he is useless with no spiritual veins inside, and if someone is not looking carefully, they might crush him. And the way back to cq is gonna be a hell of a trip! But he needs airplane to fix this. He can't stay as a doll forever! He needs a mushroom body and then fly into the sunset far from this mess! Adiós! Goodbye! So his new plan is to infiltrate into cang qiong, look for that rat and disappear. Sneaking into some disciple's pouch must be enough to break in.

Something something it only had passed a few months since lbh stole sqq's body and everything is still very fresh. CQ mountain is a hot mess. Sqh frankly needs to lay down and take a nap. Lqg keeps figthing with Lbh practially every day and coming back beaten bloody, he has his king pestering him and a lot of paperwork to do, Lbh is a pain in the ass, Yqy is really close to snap and start a war with HHP, and he knows nothing about his bro. So yeah. Such a great time to be alive.

The mushroom bodies should had been ready, right? He must be alright...Yeah. He has enough already to keep him busy. Cucumber bro is gonna come out and stumble across at any moment. No one would bat an eye if he takes a nap, right? He deserves it. He is overworked enough for another lifetime, his head hurts, his bones hurt everywhere, a short nap should be fine...

Until he feels something small tugging his robes and a cold tiny finger poking his eyelids. But he doesn't want to. He is very comfortable on the floor of his office. Whatever bird decided to pick a fight with his face can keep trying.

"AIRPLANE, WAKE UP, YOU HACK! I NEED YOU TO FIX THIS! WHY IS A WITCH WITH ANACHRONISTIC HAUNTED DOLLS IN THIS NOVEL? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

That voice. That fucking annoying voice was of just one person and one person only. He opened his eyes, looking for the source of the unmistakable voice of his No1 hater, but he came across with a pretty porcelain doll. With a very ugly sneer in it's face.

"W-Wha-?...Bro-?!"

"Fucking finally! Why are you sleeping on the floor in your ofice?! I was looking around your bedroom like an idiot! Do you know how close I was to falling from your window?!"

-TBC-

#svsss #shen qingqiu #人渣反派自救系统 #I don't have a lot about this au bc I just imagined it today #shen yuan in a doll body au #I still need to reach lbh #oh boy that is a can of worms idk if im prepared to open #so any idea of how to progress the story is welcome #since he would be still in his strongest shock and denial #what if sqh has to bring sqq along w him to hhp bc he has there all his plans and secret stuff idk #or to use any hhp treasure or smt #too many posibilites and imma sleep #wip #shang qinghua #I got this idea while watching Barbie

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fanficimagery · 5 months ago

Text

Joining the Biz.

When the hotels are all booked up, your cousin asks if a few friends can crash at your place. You accept, not knowing you'll be meeting some people who will become lifelong friends and get a shot at doing what you once loved. [Part One of Three]

Words: 7.7K Author's Note: Never thought I'd wanna write for wrestlers. Just a reminder that I am writing for the CHARACTERS they portray on TV and the way I think these CHARACTERS would be "at home", therefore everyone is single lol. I will tagging this as Jey Uso X Reader, but please be informed that it will not be romance heavy. I'm pretty sure there's not a lot of Jey/Reader interactions, but some of the stuff between them is cutesy rather than steamy. ALSO EVERYONE'S OOC BECAUSE I JUST RECENTLY STARTED WATCHING AND I DON'T KNOW THEIR PERSONALITIES JUST YET.

You're watching the new A Quiet Place movie when your cell rings. Glancing briefly at the screen sitting next to your thigh, you see it's your cousin that you haven't seen in quite a few months.

Pausing the movie, you answer the call. "Dum-Dum, you're alive!"

"Aye, prima, I got a huge favor to ask."

"Hey, YN, long time no talk. How are you? I'm good, what about you, cuz?" You retort a little mockingly.

Dominik sighs and your lips twitch in amusement. "Hi, prima. You good?"

"Never better. Now what do you need?"

The line goes quiet for a few seconds before, "So Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown are gonna be in the same arena next week and with all the wrestlers in one place, the hotels booked up pretty quickly."

"Okay, and?"

"It's in your city."

It takes a moment, but a lightbulb goes off over your head. "Let me guess, you need a place to stay?"

"Not me, but three friends do. They're scrambling right now, cuz. Please tell me no one's moved in since we last talked."

Chuckling softly, you say, "You know I'm gonna be the perpetually single prima." Dominik chuckles on his side of the line. "And my two spare rooms are always ready for a visitor. But if you're really desperate for a third, I don't mind bunking up with someone since my bed is huge. So long as it doesn't piss off any significant other, someone can bunk with me."

"Aw damn. Your bed is comfy as fuck, and you never let anyone in it."

"No, I just don't let you in it, Dum-Dum. I learned my lesson when we were little. You fight in your sleep."

"Do not."

"Do too. Now, am I rolling out the welcome mat or what? And for how long?"

"One sec." You hang on, listening to the muffled chatter. You don't know who it is that might possibly be staying with you, but you do catch Dominik mentioning that someone named Damian could benefit from sharing with you since he's the tallest and would actually fit in your bed. A few more moments and then he says, "Yes, and are you able to host for like a week or so? We'll be flying out early tomorrow morning. I can be at your place with your guests around five or six in the evening."

"That's fine. Do I get to know who I'm hosting?"

You hear Dominik squeak before, "Hi, mate. It's Rhea. Thanks so much for doing this. I really wasn't looking forward to sharing a small bed with someone."

"It's 'ya uce, Jey Uso." You chuckle at his enthusiasm, realizing his energy matches his persona on TV.

"And, uh, I'm Damian. I promise I don't punch or kick in my sleep."

You huff a laugh. "Priest, right? The tall one?"

"Yeah."

"You'll be good, man. The mattress of my bed is literally from one side of the wall to the other. The only way to get on it is to crawl on from the foot of the bed. Just ask Dominik."

"S'true, man. YN has always been weird about her space on the bed. She needs a lot of it."

"But I'll be fine sharing. I just wasn't a fan of waking up spooning or being spooned by a cousin. But walking, talking, kink material? Yes, please."

There's a sharp bark of laughter of who you assume is Rhea.

"What did you just say?" Dominik muses, more laughter ringing out as your words sink in.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, cuz. I'm only joking."

"No, you're not. You totally think he's hot."

"Duh. Ripley, Priest, the Usos, Roman Reigns.. they're all smokin'."

"Thanks, mate!"

"You're welcome, mi amor," you retort. "But just because I think they're hot doesn't mean I wanna be railed by them, Dum-Dum."

"I know." He gives a long suffering sigh that you can't help but smile at. "It's why when I realized we were gonna be in town and these morons needed a place to crash, I thought of you. You won't fuck around with my friends. Not like that."

"Aw, I love you too, cuz. Now get off my phone. I was watching a movie before you interrupted me."

"Alright, alright. I'll text you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye, everyone!"

After hearing a chorus of byes in return, you end the call and go back to your movie.

After a long morning and afternoon of cleaning and changing out bedsheets for fresh ones, you're finally able to relax. You had planned to make a meal, but not knowing if anyone had any dietary restrictions, you decided against it. Instead, your cousin Dominik assured you that they'd pick up some food on the way to your house for you and themselves since you're hosting them.

You're cleaning the pool and making sure the water is balanced to be of use the next day when your phone pings with alerts from your security cameras out front. When you check it and see a black SUV parked behind your Jeep Compass and Range Rover in the driveway, you put everything away and head inside to greet your guests through the front door.

You open your front door, leaning against the door jamb as you watch the men unload suitcases and duffel bags.

Rhea Ripley, however, is walking up your porch stairs with four boxes of pizza in hand. "Ding dong," she muses.

"Hi," you greet. She manages to balance the boxes on one hand, reaching out with the other to give you a brief hug. "Did you guys have a good flight? Drive?"

"Yeah, dude, it was fine. Just this thing with the hotel was stressing us out, but you and Dom came through for us."

"Well, I'm glad to be of service," you say. Just then, the guys start walking up. "Hey, Dum-Dum."

You offer him a brief hug right before he personally introduces you to Rhea, Damian, and Jey.

"Hey, lil' mama, thanks for doing this. It was really cool of you to let us crash here," Jey says.

"It's no problem whatsoever," you assure him. "Now if you guys wanna come in and set the food in the kitchen, I'll show you around real quick."

Rhea sets the pizzas down on the kitchen island, Dominik volunteers to get drinks out, as well as plates while you show your three guests around. The main rooms they need to know on the first floor are the bathroom, the laundry room, your office in case they have any work that needs to be addressed with a computer, and one of the free guest rooms. Rhea and Jey glance at each other, but when you assure them the two guest rooms are the same size, Jey opts for it and sets his belongings in the room.

Upstairs, Rhea places her own belongings in the second spare room, peeks into the main bathroom between the bedrooms, and then the way Damian smiles when he sees the bed you and him are to share makes you laugh.

"Looks like I'm actually gonna get some good sleep this week," he says as he places his suitcase and bags off to the side. "Hotels really need to make bigger beds for those of us over six feet."

"Goddamn, you're tall," you mutter.

Rhea laughs, even more so when Jey tries to swap places with Damian because your bed looks really inviting as large as it is.

When you head downstairs and back into the kitchen, Dominik asks, "Did you show them the gym?"

"Gym? What gym?" Rhea asks, clearly excited.

You roll your eyes at your cousin. "It's nothing fancy. I just closed off my garage and turned into a gym that's perfect for me."

"I wanna see it."

Chuckling softly, you lead them to your small gym. When you turn on the lights, you say, "It's nothing sophisticated, but it's mine."

"Can we use it?" Jey asks.

"Sure. You probably won't get the workout you're used to with this equipment, but you're more than welcomed to this space."

"As long as we can break a sweat, we're good," Rhea says.

"Question," Damian says, his deep voice sending shivers down your back. It's really unfair that your cousin's friends are so good looking. "Is that a stripper pole?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "Dum-Dum didn't tell you how I bought this house?"

Jey's mouth drops open. "Girl, you a stripper?"

"Was a stripper," you correct him. "But that's a long story. I can tell it over pizza."

As you head into the kitchen, Dominik tells the four of you to dig in while it's still warm. Dominik leans against one of the kitchen counters, you hop up on another, and your three guests take a seat on a stool at the kitchen island.

Only after everyone has downed at least a slice and a half does Dominik start talking.

"Is anyone curious as to why YN has a gym in her home?"

"Because she likes to work out?" Rhea shrugs, glancing around at the random question.

"To keep in shape for that stripper pole we peeped out there," Jey tries.

You grin, shaking your head at him. Apparently, he really wants that stripper story.

Damian, however, seems to piece a part of your story together. "With Dom and Rey in the business, my guess is that you're training for the family business as well."

With your free hand, you touch the tip of your nose and point at Damian with a wink. "Sort of."

"YN used to train with me when we were younger," Dominik says. "Was supposed to join the biz when I joined."

"What happened?" Rhea asks.

"My dad." With a sigh, you set down your half-eaten slice of pizza and take a drink of your soda. "I really love everything about the wrestling life and was stoked to be a part of it when Tio Rey said I had potential. My dad wanted me to head off to college, but my mom wanted me to do whatever made me happy."

"And wrestling made you happy," Jey says.

You nod. "Very much. I started training after school, giving Dum-Dum a run for his money," you muse before turning a little sad, "but then my mom got sick. Her insurance barely wanted to pay the bare minimum, my dad couldn't keep up with the bills, and it was my turn to get an after-school job that paid."

Everyone winces in sympathy.

"After I graduated high school, I knew I needed a job that would pay well without a college degree, so I took up stripping. It took me almost a year to make a name for myself and have some regular customers that showed up for only me, but I did it. I could tell my dad was highly disappointed, but he didn't say shit to my face because my money was making a dent in the bills that had been piling up." You pause to give a sigh. "After five years, the treatments just stopped working for my mom. She passed, my dad and I made plans to purchase this exact house we're standing in, but then his new girlfriend had to go and ruin that."

Dominik chuckles. "Pendeja was under the impression my tio was paying for this house. Little did she know that YN was putting up eighty percent of the cash for this place and was going to be paying the mortgage while her dad only paid the electric and water."

You shake your head as you remember everything you went through with your dad. "We were at the meeting to close on this house when his girlfriend started gushing about the changes she was going to make and how it was her house, and I scoffed. I informed her my name was going to be on the deed, changes would have to go through me and my dad, and that she wasn't going to have a say so like she planned. Only when my dad told me to just let his name and her name be on the deed, and he was serious about it, did I pull out from the deal.

"The homeowners who were selling understood because they'd been dealing with me the entire time, and in front of my dad, promised that they'd hold off if I still wanted the place and would give me time to get the rest of the cash. I wasn't going to agree because I really didn't need a place this big for just myself, but the second my dad called me a selfish bratty bitch did I agree to purchase the house and cut all contact with my dad."

"Damn, girl. That's rough," Damian says.

You nod. "It was, but I made do. I continued to dance to make up the difference, bought this place, and then danced some more to put myself through college. I earned a nice little nest egg while getting a higher education, and now that I work for myself.. I'm golden. I'm peachy fuckin' keen."

"That's what I like to hear," Rhea says, smiling and saluting you with her own drink.

"But that's not all, is it?" Dominik muses. "A little birdie told me that dad's been advocating for you in WWE."

You smile as everyone glances at you. "Your little sister is a narc." Dominik laughs as you explain. "Tio Rey wants me in, not to fight in the women's division but to just be someone on the sidelines to cause interference since I'm so rusty. And since my work schedule is pretty fuckin' flexible, I can swing it. There's just not a storyline that can be easily manipulated to bring in an unknown female."

"Well, whatever happens, I hope you get in," Rhea says. "We need more ladies."

"And look, uce, you can come to Raw with all the cool kids or I can hook you up with my brothers and cousins on Smackdown."

You laugh. "You guys are talking as if I'm for sure going to work in the WWE. It's all just talk right now."

"Well, if you still got that talent from when we were younger," Dominik says. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you on the sidelines soon."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and finish eating."

As everyone finishes up eating, Damian and Rhea take it upon themselves to wash dishes and Dominik takes out the trash since he's on his way out to go get settled in at his hotel.

You walk with Dominik outside, leaning against your porch railing.

"You good, prima?" He asks. You nod, smiling softly. "I just wanna say thanks again for doing this for my friends."

"Don't even worry about it," you say. "I've been bored lately. It'll be nice to have some noise for a little bit."

"Yeah? Well, if you need anything, I'm only a phone call away. Rey too."

"I'll be fine, Dum-Dum. Rhea, Jey, and Damian seem really cool."

"Alright." Dominik gives you a hug. "I'll see you if I'm not busy working. You also have ringside tickets for Monday, so clear your schedule for that day."

"Thanks. Night, Dom."

"Night, YN."

Waking up the following morning, you stretch and quietly groan. For a moment you forget you have guests, but then a deep chuckle from the other side of your bed reminds you that not only do you have guests but that you have a guest in bed with you. You turn your head, spotting a sleepy Damian just waking up himself.

"Goddamn. This bed had no right being this comfortable."

You huff a laugh and roll onto your side, tucking an arm beneath your head. "I take it you slept well?"

"Yeah. It's been a while since I've slept in."

His words slowly make you realize that you've slept in too. "Shit. What time is it?" You sit up, patting the bed around you for your phone until you remember you placed it on the floating shelf connected to the wall above where you had slept. Turning, you snatch your phone and check the time. It's nine in the morning. "Fuckkk," you groan as you fall back against your pillows.

"What happened? You miss work or something?"

"Nah. Nothing like that." You take a moment to yawn. "I just have a routine, and I forgot to set my alarm," you tell him.

He hums in understanding. The two of you go quiet, sleep threatening to take you back under until you feel the bed at your feet shift and jostle. Opening your eyes, you find Rhea crawling into bed, burrowing under the blanket you're using.

"Oi. What are we talking about?"

You chuckle as Rhea snuggles down, hair mused and face clean of her usual dark makeup.

"Nothing. YN was just talking about how she missed her routine."

"What routine?"

"I run in the mornings," you admit. "Wake up at six, run two miles around the neighborhood to get the blood pumping, and then do whatever needs to be done whether it be work-work or house-work."

"What's on the agenda for today?"

"Not a damn thing. I cleared my schedule until the middle of next week," you say. "I'm free as a bird, so if you want to do something in town, I'm down. Or if you have errands to run or need to head to the arena to train, the Range Rover is yours to use while you're staying here."

Damian and Rhea are saying their thanks when Jey launches himself on the other side of you. You groan as the others laugh. "Damn, uce, this bed is huge. You can fit at least one other body in here."

Jey is apparently an affectionate person and has no issue sliding under your blanket as well. But while Rhea kept a few inches between you, Jey practically plasters his chest to your back and snuggles up to you with a content sigh.

You shake with suppressed laughter. "Comfortable, Uso?"

"Extremely. What's everyone doin' today?"

"Priest and I have a meeting with the higher ups," Rhea says. "After that, nothing."

"I'll be making use of the gym here to get the blood pumping," Jey says.

All three go quiet and you only speak when you feel Jey squeeze you around the waist. "Well while you guys are working, I'll be relaxing out back in the pool."

Time seems to freeze before,

"You got a pool?!"

"Yes?" You laugh.

"Alright, change of plans. I'm gonna work out and then float my ass in the pool out back. You got any floaties, uce?"

"Duh."

"Then yeah, we floatin'."

You grin sleepily. "You guys gonna be free for dinner?" At their confirmed status of being free, you say, "I'm feelin' steaks, jalapeño poppers, and roasted corn. Any objections?"

"Nope."

"No."

"Hell nah."

"This arrangement is proving to be better than staying at a hotel," Damian muses. "You sure we're not putting you out?"

"No way. I grew up with big family cookouts, random hangouts, and sleepovers and I miss it. When mom died, dad and I stopped going out as much. Dad's side of the family kind of wanted nothing to do with me when I wouldn't let his then girlfriend take control of the house I was buying, and while I kept in touch with my mom's side of the family, it just wasn't the same."

"Which side does Dom come from?" Rhea asks.

"Mom's." You smile sadly. "My mom and his mom were sisters."

"Family is everything," she says and you nod in agreement. "But blood does not define family. If the rest of your family won't recognize you, we will. You're stuck with us now."

As Rhea spoke, your eyes got a little teary. "Goddammit, Ripley. It's too early to be crying."

"I'm sorry." She laughs and reaches for your hand, squeezing it.

"Come on," Damian eventually groans, reaching over to nudge Rhea. "The sooner we get this meeting over with, the quicker we can get back to chill by the pool."

Rhea groans as she has to get out of bed and Damian immediately calls dibs on the bathroom upstairs as he scoots out of bed after her.

"And then there were two," Jey muses, brazenly pressing his face into the back of your neck as he holds you.

Chuckling, you free an arm from beneath the blanket and then gently slap him on the thigh. "Come on, Uso. Let's get sweaty."

"That's what I'm talking about!"

This time, you bark out a laugh. "Down, boy. We're just going for a run to get that blood of yours pumping before you hit up the mini gym."

"Not what I had in mind, but I'm down."

Since Damian's occupying the upstairs bathroom, you grab an extra toothbrush and toothpaste from your hall closet and head towards the downstairs bathroom where Rhea is. Knocking on the door, you wait until you hear her call out.

"Yeah?"

"Is it cool if I brush my teeth in there? I promise I won't sneak any looks!"

Rhea laughs. "Sure thing, babe. Door's unlocked!"

Your shower stalls have glass doors, so you keep your gaze averted. Fortunately, Rhea likes a steamy shower so even if you had glanced in her direction, all you would see is the outline of her body.

"Didn't want to sneak any looks at Damian?" She muses.

You laugh as you wet your toothbrush and apply some toothpaste. "I still think of that man as walking, talking, kink material-" Rhea barks out a laugh, "-but now that I've met him, he gives off major big brother energy. I do not want to see the peen. Well, I kind of do, but I'm intimidated."

"Oh my god. I'm gonna love hanging out with you this week."

You make quick work of brushing your teeth and washing your face, and then tell Rhea where to find the keys to the Range Rover in case you and Jey leave before her and Damian are ready.

Back up in your room, you get dressed in your workout gear- a cropped dark tank top made out of spandex material and a pair of black and white running shorts. You put on your running shoes, tie your hair up into a ponytail, then grab the strap that your phone zips into before securing it around your bicep.

You run into Damian on your way downstairs, telling him what you told Rhea about where to find the keys to the Range Rover and not to bother locking up if you and Jey are gone before he and Rhea leave. He thanks you for letting them use your vehicle and you head outside into the backyard, stretching in the little spot that you've sectioned off for yoga sessions.

Jey is outside as well, taking a picture of the pool where he's apparently set loose some pool floats and rearranged the chairs off to the side. You shake your head at him in amusement, twisting your body into the runner's lunge twist.

As you're holding the pose, stretching your muscles, you hear, "Look up, sweetheart. Let me see that smile." Instead of just smiling, however, you flip him off. Jey laughs, snapping the pic. "Is it cool if I post that?"

"That's fine."

As Jey does a few of his own stretches, he's messing with his phone. He's smiling the entire time and when he puts his phone away, you finish up your stretching and check his socials to see what he posted and/or said.

It doesn't take you long to find the post on Instagram, a post of two pics. The first is your pool looking rather inviting and the next pic is of you flipping him off. The caption reads, Can't wait to go for a swim, but first I need to get the blood pumping with this peach of a lady and an added kissy face emoji.

"You're ridiculous," you call out and he laughs.

"You see it?"

"Yes." In response to his post, you leave a comment with the middle finger emoji and two blue hearts. "Now come on, Uso. Time to run."

You and Jey round the side of the house just as Rhea and Damian walk down the porch stairs. You tell Damian that the address to your house is already programmed into the GPS should he need it on the way back and he nods, tossing and catching the key fob in his hand. You and Jey then stand side by side on the sidewalk, and after making sure he's ready, you set off at a leisurely pace.

As you round the street corner, you speed up a little more. Jey keeps pace and the only sound for a good while is your feet pounding against the pavement. Several minutes into your run, however, you notice Jey lagging behind. And when you glance over your shoulder to see if he's fine, you see him with his phone out again.

Not wanting to speak and expend your breath, you continue running. Jey follows you, keeping pace once more, and then urging you faster on the way back to your house.

By the time you make it back to your kitchen, you're panting and leaning against the kitchen island. "I'm never running with you again."

"Aw, come on, girl. That was fun."

"For you! What were you doing with your phone out anyway?"

Before he can answer, his phone starts ringing. He glances at it, then at you. "It's Jimmy. Do you mind?"

"Go ahead."

Jey answers what ends up being a Facetime call and you walk around your kitchen, grabbing yourself a glass of water as they talk.

"Ay, uce, you good?" Jey asks.

"Yeah, but not as good as you apparently. Where the hell you at that you have access to a pool?"

You're mid-sip, grinning against the rim of your glass when Jey points his phone at you. "Mysterio's cuz came through. Say hi." You awkwardly wave at the camera as you hear Jimmy laugh and hear him call out his own hello. Then Jey continues the talk. "So how's the hotel?"

"Boring. We either hang out in our rooms or at the arena. Nothing fancy or fun."

Quickly finding a pen and pad of paper, you jot something down and then slide it over to Jey- Invite him over. Pool's big enough and dinner is on me.

"Ay, uce, who's with you right now?" Jey asks after reading your note.

"Just Solo and Roman. Why?"

Jey glances at you and you nod. "You guys wanna come over? Pool's big enough and YN is grilling steaks tonight for us here."

"Shit. Forreal?"

"Yeah." You call out when Jey looks at you once more. "I just need a headcount so I can go grab the steaks and corn from the store here in a bit. Damian and Rhea are currently at the arena in one of my vehicles, so I'm sure they can swing by and pick you up if you guys need a ride."

"No worries, we got our own ride. We just need an address."

"I'll have Jey send it to you. Are all three of you coming?"

"Sure thing, ma."

Jey talks to his brother for another minute before ending the call, opening up his texts and handing you the phone so you can enter your address. You do so and then after downing your water, you tell Jey you're going to shower before heading out to the store. Jey tells you he'll tag along and to not leave without him.

. . . .

Later, when you're done shopping and preparing the backyard for guests, you smile wide when you spot your cousin walking in with a case of beer and a holler that the party has arrived. Behind him, Jimmy Uso, Solo Sikoa, and Roman Reigns enter.

You greet everyone with a smile and hug (if they offered), then proceed to show them where both bathrooms are and the room that Jey is staying in so they can change into their swim trunks wherever they're most comfortable. Then before you go back outside, you take a moment to change into your own two piece bathing suit that consists of a dark green v-neck top that pulls down over your head like a sports bra and dark green high waisted bottoms that have cutouts along your hips. And since you're not jumping into the water right away, you pull on a loose, white button down shirt with its sleeves rolled up to your elbows and tuck the front hem of the shirt into a pair of cutoff denim shorts.

As you head back out, you pass Damian and Rhea in the kitchen, cutting jalapeños in half and scooping out the seeds so they can put cream cheese in them before wrapping them in bacon.

Dominik is outside, looking everything over before meeting your gaze with a smile. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"I miss hanging out," you admit with a chuckle. "And hosting isn't so bad when all the men are handsome as fuck."

He shakes his head in amusement. "You opening up the hot tub?"

"Should I?" You frown.

"Yes, estúpida. I can guarantee that'll be the hangout spot after dinner."

"Well go get it set up," you tell him.

As Dominik preps the hot tub, you make sure the outside bar is all stocked up. The beer Dominik brought and the beer Jey suggested you buy earlier is in the cooler, the freezer is filled with ice, your blender is clean and ready for margaritas, and there's a whole stash of alcohol in case anyone wants anything stronger.

You're connecting a laptop to the outside speakers when Damian pops up. "Hey, hermosa, the poppers are sitting in the fridge for when you're ready for them. Do you need anything else done?"

"No, sir. You and Rhea are guests. Go change and lounge. I can do the rest."

"Are you sure?"

You smile at him. "Positive. Enjoy your time off, Priest."

"Alright. But hurry up. You deserve to have some fun too before you start cooking."

After shooing Damian off, you head inside to quickly peel some potatoes. Four shirtless Samoans finally walk out from Jey's room, and you have to shoo Jey out when he tries to help out in the kitchen.

"I'm good," you say, swatting at his hands when he tries to grab the potato peeler from the counter. "Go have fun."

"But-"

"No buts!" His jaw snaps shut and you arch an eyebrow at him, silently challenging him to do something about it. Hearing a snicker, you glance at his grinning twin Jimmy and younger brother Solo. "Can y'all please go throw his ass in the pool? Not only did this fool have the audacity to jump into my bed this morning-"

"Rhea was in there too! I thought it was a group thing!"

"-but he snapped pics of my ass on our run this morning."

"You saw those?"

You glare at him, but end up laughing when his brothers look offended on your behalf. "I follow you on Instagram. Of course I saw them! You're just lucky my account is private. Your fans already stalked the hell out of my pages and tried adding me." And before Jey can say anything to defend himself, there's a small scuffle as Jimmy and Solo grapple with their brother before pushing him out the door.

You and Roman follow, laughing and then whooping when Jey gets tossed into the pool. Roman lingers and when you glance up at him, he asks, "You sure you don't need any help?"

"Positive. Go have fun, Reigns. And if you want, the laptop at the bar controls the music. I'm not sure what you like listening to, so have fun making a playlist if you want."

"Will do."

You get back to work in the kitchen, but it doesn't take you long to finish up. There's still a couple of hours before you have to get to work, so you head outside to see what everyone's up to. Rhea and Dominik are laid out on the lounges next to the pool, conversing with each other and with Damian and Roman who are inside the pool but hanging onto the ledge near them. Jey, Jimmy, and Solo are not too far, the three brothers splayed out casually on pool floats.

Taking a moment for yourself, you head to the bar and immediately work on a pitcher of margaritas. Rhea hollers that she wants one and you give her a thumbs up to let her know you heard her loud and clear. On reflex, you dig your phone out of your pocket and leave it on the bar so there's no electronic casualties as you walk by the pool's ledge. Then salting the rim of two margarita glasses, you fill them with the slushie goodness and walk yourself over to where Rhea is just sitting up.

"Thanks, mate." She sips her margarita, humming, and you do the same.

You had only taken your eyes off the pool's occupants for a minute that you don't notice one in particular is missing. When you clock Jimmy and Solo staring at you though, your gaze darts around for Jey. Their smirks grow and you tense up. But before you can question where the troublesome individual is, wet arms come down around you from behind. You yelp and a deep chuckle sounds next to your ear.

"You thought you could get away with siccin' my brothers on me, didn't you? My own blood? Nope. Not today, baby girl."

"Jey…" He starts walking towards the pool and you do your best to push back. Unfortunately, he's stronger. "Jey, I have a drink in my hand!"

"Not anymore." Jey had stopped right at the pool's ledge, right where Roman and Damian were, when the margarita is pulled from your hand. You stare down in shock at Damian who's now sipping it.

"You traitor! I'm giving you the shittiest blanket tonight, Priest!"

He shrugs, grinning. "I'll just steal yours."

Everyone starts chanting to toss you in and your toes curl over the pool's ledge as if that'll keep you from going in. "Jey, if you toss me in, I'll-"

"You'll what?"

You know there's no getting out of this predicament, so you reach back and grip onto the sides of Jey's shorts. "I'm taking you with me."

"Wh-" Before he can get the word out, you fall forward and take Jey back into the water with you.

All his weight falls on top of you as you go under water, but it's not as bad as apparently everyone thinks it is. When you resurface, wiping water from your eyes, you're surprised to see everyone looking quite freaked out. Even Jey looks worried, but you merely laugh in return.

"You good, uce?" Jimmy calls out. "That was a whole lot of fat falling on top of you."

You snort as Jey gasps in offense. "I'm good, Jimmy."

You tread water like a foot away from Jey and start stripping off your shirt and shorts while you grumble. You toss them onto the side of the pool, rolling your eyes when Rhea wiggles her eyebrows at you. Jey looks you up and down, even going as far to dip under the water. When he resurfaces, smirking, you swat the back of his head and end up treading water with him and his brothers for a bit.

Eventually, you all end up hanging out around the ledge and in front of the pool lounges where Damian and Solo have swapped out with Rhea and Dominik. Jimmy is the most vocal about getting to know you, especially when he spots you hanging onto his brother's back with Jey's hands supporting you under your thighs as you talk with everyone. He's never seen his twin so comfortable with someone he's just met like this.

No one bats an eye at your stripper past, hell Roman even cracks a joke about taking up stripping if wrestling ever falls through, and then Dominik happily informs them that you're actually quite the little wrestler yourself. You keep it humble though, telling everyone that you're very out of shape and rusty in the ring, and you're like eighty percent sure nothing will come of Rey's thoughts.

They all try to hype you up into seriously thinking about it if wrestling is something you love, but you brush it all off and tell Dominik to help you bring out the steaks from inside.

After drying off, you get the grill going and then put on an apron over your bathing suit. You get the seasoned steaks going on one side of the grill while Dominik fills the other side with corn on the cob that's been smothered in butter and wrapped in foil, as well as the jalapeño poppers. Then while that's cooking, you quickly head inside to dice up the peeled potatoes before dropping them into a pot of water so they can boil.

You and Dominik remain by the grill to make sure nothing overcooks. Then when you have to head back inside, he keeps watch while you mash the potatoes and make a small pot of brown gravy.

When the food gets taken inside, you set everything out on the kitchen island before calling everyone in. They all flood in with towels wrapped around their waists, and none of the men will serve themselves until you and Rhea have made up your plates first. So while you and Rhea take a seat at the table with full plates, you both watch in amusement as they moan and groan about the smell, practically salivating when they take their own seats with their own plates of food.

Dinner ended up being quite the affair, and you were very glad that you had cooked up more steaks than Jey deemed necessary. Apparently his brothers and cousin could really chow down.

Then after dinner and deciding to let the dishwasher get a workout, everyone takes a moment to let their food settle in their stomachs before heading back outside. Instead of the pool, however, they sink into the hot tub.

Drinks are passed around again and the last thing you remember is laughing uncontrollably with this group of people before everything goes dark.

When you wake up, you have a throbbing headache. But not only that, your mouth feels extremely gross, and you want nothing more than to brush your teeth and eat a mountain of breakfast foods. You take a moment to just lay there and wait for the room to stop spinning, and when it does do you take notice of the weight across your stomach. Slowly, you glance to your right and find Jey sleeping peacefully with his arm draped across you. But for some reason, the bed feels like there's more of a presence in it, and when you glance to your left you can't help but smile.

Next to you and under his own blanket is Jimmy, and then on his other side are Rhea and Damian who are sharing a blanket of their own. You're not sure how you all ended up here, but you carefully extricate yourself from the bed to get some answers. You're still in your bikini and you have a feeling everyone else is still in their swimsuits as well, so you know you're gonna have to do laundry so your bedding doesn't smell like chlorine.

After grabbing a pair of baggy sweatpants, a sports bra, and a pair of socks, you take the quickest shower you've ever taken to get the pool smell off of you and brush your teeth. You wring out as much water as you can from your hair, run a towel through it to soak up some more, and then run your fingers through the strands before tying it up in a messy bun just to keep it all off your neck.

As you pad downstairs and into your kitchen, you find Solo and Roman looking through the cabinets. You take a moment to watch them, grinning when you hear Solo quietly moan about wanting coffee, but not knowing where anything is.

"Two cabinets to your left." Solo jerks in surprise and you grin, walking to the cabinet yourself to grab the coffee grounds. You grab the grounds and filters, handing them off to Solo. "Not that I'm mad about it, but what the hell are you guys doing here?"

Roman's chuckle makes you turn around to face him. "You don't remember?"

"Unfortunately, no. I remember a lot of laughing in the hot tub and then sleeping." You squint your eyes a little, flashes of the night coming back. "Was there dancing?"

Solo snorts as he prepares a pot of coffee. "Do not check your Instagram."

"Aww, man. Who gave me the hard stuff to drink?"

"Your cousin."

"Dominik said you're very family orientated and that you needed last night," Roman says. "Rhea kept you supplied with margaritas, Jey and Jimmy took over the music and there was a dancing competition, your cousin decided shots was a good idea, then you got affectionate like a cat on Jey's lap-" you wince in embarrassment, "-and once the weepiness set in, Dom cut you off."

"And where is my idiot cousin?"

"Back at the hotel. He didn't drink like everyone else did. Solo, Jimmy, and I were capable of driving, but no one wanted to risk it with Smackdown in a couple of days."

"Jey jumped at the chance to bunk with you and Damian, and then Rhea volunteered as well. Jimmy, Roman, and I drew straws, and the shortest one had to bunk in your bed with everyone."

You giggle. "Poor Jimmy."

Solo grins. "He wasn't too mad about it though. He got to slip between you and Rhea."

"But Jey was quick to drag you all the way to the wall to keep Jimmy away from you," Roman muses.

You chuckle, reaching up to rub at your temple as you close your eyes. "Shit, guys. I just met you last night and already I made a terrible first impression."

"Nah, you're good," Roman assures you. "You don't know how bad we needed last night. It's been a while since we were able to unwind and last night was-"

"Exactly what we needed," Solo finishes.

"And besides, it's not everyday we meet a fan that's able to still be normal around us."

You freeze. "Why do you say I'm a fan?"

Roman slowly grins. "Well besides the fact that you have family in the biz, you also spent some time last night doing Ripley's entrance alongside her."

"Oh my god."

"Instagram," Solo says. "Don't check it."

"I hate you guys."

The two men chuckle and your stomach grumbling puts you in motion to make something to eat. Roman helps, pulling out some frozen hash that's in the freezer. He gets that going just as you throw some sausage links into another pan, and then Solo takes over making a huge pan of eggs.

Just as you're setting a plate of toast onto the table, Jimmy comes down. He doesn't say anything, but does grab himself a plate and load it up.

The four of you are quiet as you eat, exhaustion still lingering in everyone.

It isn't until Solo takes it upon himself to clear the table do you realize Jimmy and Roman are staring at you. You squint your eyes at them, then at Solo when he reclaims his seat. "What-"

"What are your intentions with Jey?" Jimmy asks.

You snort, grinning. "What?" Roman chuckles and you glance between the three Samoans. "Is this- is this a shovel talk?"

Jimmy shrugs. "It's not every day that Jey shows genuine interest in someone. We just wanna know where you stand."

Upon realizing just how serious these three are, your smile slowly fades. "I like him. I do," you admit. "It's very rare I connect with someone like I did with Jey…" You trail off.

"But-" Jimmy urges.

"But I literally met him like a day and a half ago! And besides, Jey's life is on the road," you tell them. "Being flirty and affectionate is all that I'm able to give him because if I give more…" You sigh sadly. "If I give more, it's inevitable that feelings will develop on my end, and I won't do that to myself." You pause, letting your words sink in. Your gaze falls to the table and your voice lowers. "As cheesy as it sounds, Jey is my definition of right guy, wrong time."

An arm is slung around your shoulders and then you're pulled into Jimmy's side. "Look at this way, sis. If your unc gets you in, you'll be traveling on the road with us and you can be disgustingly cute with my brother all you want."

"Shut up." You nudge him with your elbow. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to sweat out all this alcohol in my system. I'll be in my baby gym while you do whatever you guys wanna do."

Roman starts to stand. "We need to get to the arena and train. Is it cool if we come back later?"

"That's fine. Like I told everyone else, I'm not working until next week. My house is your house."

"Thank you."

As Roman and Jimmy head off to the bathrooms before leaving, Solo surprises you by lingering behind. You smile at him, letting him say whatever's on his mind.

"For what it's worth, I really hope your uncle's serious about getting you into the business. I think my brother really likes you."

"Aw, Solo," you coo. He shakes his head in amusement as you lean in to hug him. "Outside of the ring, you're a good guy. But inside the ring, I'm sad to say that Roman is still my Tribal Chief."

Solo barks out a laugh. As he pulls out of the hug, he asks, "What are you doing Friday night?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Roman and I are gonna have a face to face in the ring. You think you can crack his facade if I get you ringside?"

"Solo," you slowly smirk, "it'll be my genuine pleasure."

End Note: Alright, this was bad. I admit that. But I'm slightly obsessed with these characters. Why are they so handsome?

Spanish translations: Prima/Primo - Cousin. Mi amor - My love. Pendenja - Stupid girl. Estúpida - feminine version for stupid. Hermosa - Beautiful.

#jey uso x reader #jey uso imagine #jey uso fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #dominik mysterio #damian priest #rhea ripley #jey uso #solo sikoa #jimmy uso #roman reigns #raw #smackdown #monday night raw #friday night smackdown

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anaugust · 7 months ago

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Lae'zel is here!

I'm making redesigns for the main bg3 characters - not because I dislike their designs, but because I like putting characters I like in cute clothing inspired by historical fashion.

I don't like when non-human characters look too human, but also when I was trying to change her proportions my brain was screaming at me that proportions are wrong.

That being said I was thinking about taking her hair away but I didn't want to make her too unrecognizable. So I stopped at making her chest smaller. Listen, she is not a mammal, she doesn't need it anyway. I don't know who first came up with this idea, wasn't me, but I love it.

I also wanted to give her more scars but decided not to - she is young, she still has time to gain more lol. Unless you killed her in your game. I'm leaving extra scars for Karlach then.

HER ARMOR. I wanted to make her feel alien to Faerun, but not too much. So:

💚 I made her armor black. I usually try to make only some small elements black and maybe hair. I did gave Shadowheart and Wyll grey armor so I thought that making Lae'zel's armor pure black will give her this odd feeling.

💚 But I did not design her armor after any historical one. To make her feel more alien.

💚 I did keep the red accents just not as gem stones.

💚 Her armor has zigzags as her ears 🤗

💚 With the designs for the rest of the characters I was looking for inspirations mostly from the Wester Europe and mostly from the 14th and 15th century. But for Lae'zel I wanted something different. So I went for this wide pants (In Polish they are called "szarawary" and google is telling me that correct translation is "galligaskins" but that's the first time I see this word lol). Anyway, I decided to give her this wide pants to give her more Eastern European (16th-18th century) vibe. Still historical inspiration - just different this time.

Shadowheart is here!

Wyll is here!

Gale is here!

Astarion is here!

Karlach is here!

4/6

I finish the lineart for Bae'zel three days ago, but I just discovered Dragon Age: Inquisition for the first time in my life and that's where I put all of my spare energy and free time lmao

Ater I'll finish redesigns I will either draw DA fan art or draw Shadowzel kiss in their new outfits.

#lae'zel #bg3 six redesign #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #character redesign #digital art #fan art #githyanki #I never remember how to spell it

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mrsevans90 · 1 year ago

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Double Life

Summary: Charlotte has gone on a few dates with a journalist named Clark Kent and she really feels like she’s falling for him. She has noticed some odd behavior from him every once in a while, but the worst part is not knowing if he’s truly interested in her. Why won’t he make a move? Is he just taking things extremely slow? Are her feelings for him unrequited? She finds the answers to all of her questions in the most embarrassing way imaginable.

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Clark Kent/Superman x Female Reader Charlotte

Brief mention of Bruce Wayne x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,060

Warnings: SMUT; masturbation, voyeur, oral (f), oral (m), squirting, cum swallowing, fingering, P in V intercourse, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), dirty talk, rough sex, language.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d

A/N: This story came to me in a dream and I woke up and immediately typed the idea in my notes section of my phone. This is my very FIRST attempt at writing anything on Tumblr so all I ask is please be kind and if you love it then please comment and REPOST! Thank you for reading!

*CHARLOTTE POV*

I woke up early Saturday morning. It seems impossible to sleep in now that I’ve become so used to being at the office by 8 am every morning. I feel a bit jittery after my date last night and am thankful for the wine that I consumed being the only reason I even was able to fall asleep. I lay in bed as my thoughts run wild. I know I should be getting out of bed and going for a run in an attempt to get rid of this pent-up energy, but glancing towards my bedroom window shows a dreary overcast day with a potential for rain. I toss and turn trying to find a comfortable position while my brain races thinking of last night. A handsome and often quiet man named Clark Kent had taken me on our fifth date. He was absolutely gorgeous, well dressed with his hair combed back, strong jaw with dimpled chin and black framed glasses. His incredible physique and handsome features are only partially what attracts me to him. His generous and mild-mannered personality and intelligence were a huge turn on. The attraction I feel for Clark is more than I ever remember feeling for a man before. My dating life since getting cheated on by my long-term high school boyfriend has been very short lived which I was fine with until now. I feel like I’ve continually held men at arm’s length, settling for a few one-night stands but nothing more in an attempt to spare my heart from more heartache. I realized after our third date that I wanted more with Clark and that he was worth the risk but I honestly am not sure how he feels about me. Yes, he’s continued to ask me on dates; taking me to dinner several times and even to a movie, yet he hasn’t made any more advances other than holding my hand and a cordial peck on the cheek. He walks me to my door after each date and ends our evening with a hug, kiss on the cheek and a goodnight. After our fourth date, I asked him if he’d like to come inside, however, he politely declined. I’m going out of my mind trying to figure out if he’s even interested but I haven’t built up the courage to ask him yet. I doubt I would even get the chance after I essentially stuck my foot in my mouth on the walk home from dinner with him last night.

*Flashback to last night*

We walked past a storefront near my apartment that was advertising superman shirts for children and I commented how cute they were. I had noticed over the past month, that Clark was very quiet anytime I mentioned the famous Superman around him. Why couldn’t I just take the hint that he was uncomfortable?

“You know, you look an awful lot like Superman. I bet if you dressed as him for your work Halloween party, people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in you both!” I said with a smile that quickly went away when I noticed him flinch.

Unfortunately, I didn’t stop my nervous rambling there. In my attempt to lighten the mood, I said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that you actually are Superman! Ha ha! Do you have a secret identity you’re keeping from me, Clark?” I said with a wink.

When I looked at Clark he seemed withdrawn and somewhat nervous.

“No, no. I’m certainly not that interesting.” Clark quickly responded while looking at his feet as we walked into my apartment building.

“I’ve enjoyed tonight but I have to get going. I have, um… I have an early start in the morning attempting to interview people in Gotham City about the latest crime statistics.” Clark told me before I could even invite him inside. He seemed fidgety and awkward as he kept glancing anywhere but at my eyes.

“On a Saturday?” I ask and he quickly nodded while avoiding eye contact with me.

“Good journalism never takes a day off.” He said with an embarrassed smile.

“I could possibly help. I have Bruce Wayne’s contact information if you’d like it. I’m sure he could be an interesting person to interview for your article.”

“You do? Why? I mean, how do you know him?” He responded with an arched eyebrow as he finally made eye contact with me for the first time in the past few minutes.

“Well, almost two months ago I met him at a charity gala for the Children’s hospital. He came over and spoke to me for a bit before he asked me on a date. It was the day after you asked me if I would go to dinner with you so I politely turned him down. He gave me his business card in case I changed my mind.” I responded quickly. Why does this feel so awkward? I didn’t do anything wrong but I still feel like he’s disappointed.

“I’m sure it’s on my desk in the apartment, if you’d like to come inside?” I ask as a last stitch effort to see if I had completely ruined this date.

“No, no that’s not necessary…Thank you, I appreciate the offer though. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Clark asked with his typical kiss on the cheek.

“Oh…okay. Goodnight Clark.”

“Goodnight Charlotte.” He responded before turning and beelining for the exit.

“Way to go, Char. Could you be any more of a dumbass?” I quietly said to myself as I closed my apartment door and went to get ready for bed.

*Present Day*

As I continue to lay in bed I begin thinking about Clark and think about how large and strong his hand was as he cradled my small one in his while we walked to the restaurant. The veins in his muscular arms, and his strong, sharp jaw. My arousal begins to dampen my panties which I quickly remove and lay back in only my white tank top. Guess this will be the only sexual relief I will be getting for a long time. I thought to myself as I reach for the vibrator in my nightstand and begin pleasuring myself. After only a few minutes, I have kicked off my covers as my body begins to glisten with perspiration, and begin pleading for my orgasm to arrive. My eyes clamped shut, I imagine Clark’s large, strong chest against my own, his arms on either side of my head as he pumps what I can only imagine is a perfect and large cock into my warmth. I imagine his beautiful blue eyes staring into my own as he presses kisses to my body and sucks on my neck.

“Clark! Please, please, please, Clark! Ugh! I need you!” I say verbally as I continue to spur myself on in this filthy fantasy.

CLARK POV:

Across town I am scrambling some eggs on the stove as I think about last night. Had Charlotte actually figured out my secret? Something the rest of the world seemed oblivious too? Or was she just joking and truly unaware? I had to deny it even though she was absolutely correct. I cringed as I began thinking about Bruce hitting on her. It’s not shocking since she’s possibly the most naturally stunning, intelligent, and interesting woman I have ever met. I believe I made it clear with him on the phone after I came home last night to stay away from my girl. I know she’s not technically mine, or a possession to own, but I have more claim to her heart than Bruce and I won’t allow him to interfere. Before I even realize it, I have squeezed a hand shaped imprint around the flimsy handle of the pan I was using.

“Damnit!” I mutter to myself.

I feel like Charlotte is getting impatient with me. It’s obvious that she wants more but how do I handle a relationship with someone I can’t be fully honest with. I want to tell her, I want her to fully know me but I feel like I can’t. I think back to how Lois was used essentially as bait when we were dating. The paranoia and pressure of being Superman’s personal kryptonite and obvious weakness was too much for both of us. Now, she was happily engaged to an engineer in the city. I’m delighted for her, she deserves true happiness yet I wonder if I’ll ever get to experience the same. I couldn’t stop myself from asking Charlotte on a date. The moment I saw her walking into the office next to me, I was lovestruck. Her long blonde hair, tight but professional dress with heels and most importantly crystal blue eyes. She was independent and driven as the head of marketing for her department. Yet, she still had this kindness about her as I watched her enter her building and the front desk guard hug her while thanking her for the toys she had sent home for his young children. She smiled genuinely and made him promise to bring his wife and children for a visit soon. God how I wanted every bit of her. I wanted her body, her mind, her future. The fourth time I saw her, I couldn’t help myself as I made my way towards her and “accidentally” bumped into her. We began a conversation and I was hooked. Before I could even think about the potential consequences, I was asking her to dinner. My cock ached as I thought about her in the shower last night after our date. Hell, I may be an alien but I still have sexual urges. She smelled and looked so beautiful. I could imagine her breasts pressed against my body. I daydreamt about the softness of her lips and the sounds she might make as I slowly took her apart. It has been almost impossible to turn down her invitations to join her in her apartment. I haven’t even allowed myself to kiss her because I’m scared to go any further and get more attached only to have her walk away if she finds out my secret. Was this self-preservation or just stupidity? I’m jolted out of my thoughts as I hear her voice louder than all the others noises going on around me thanks to my super hearing. I listen carefully as I hear her calling my name.

“Clark! Please, please, please, Clark! I need you!”

I hear her whine and she sounds as if she is out of breath. Without thinking I jump into my Superman suit and bolt out of the window straight into the sky headed towards Charlotte’s apartment. As I get closer, I can hear her whimper along with her accelerated heartrate and I panic thinking she’s in trouble. I reach her unlocked window and slide it open before flying in. Her apartment smells just like her, floral and clean. I focus on her heartbeat and the quiet buzzing sound that I originally thought was coming from the apartment below hers. As soon as I open the door I smell her arousal at the same moment I watch her reach her climax with her eyes clamped shut.

“Yes, baby!” She cries out. Her legs are parted as she holds a small purple vibrator against her clit and I can see and smell how turned on she is as her pussy glistens with her want. Her breasts are barely contained in a thin white tank top as they heave up and down while she breathes through her orgasm.

Fuck! I’m such a pervert. I need to get out of here before she sees me!

I can’t help but stare at her as she’s laying there twitching from her euphoria. I reach for the door to carefully close it before I realize I wasn’t quick enough.

“Oh my god!” She shouts as she pulls the covers over her body to cover her modesty. Her face blushing profusely as she stares at me.

I back up quickly with my hands in front of me until my back hits her hallway wall. “I’m so sorry. I heard you calling for me and I thought you were in pain. I swear I didn’t mean to walk in on you!” I blurt out quickly not even realizing my own mistake. Charlotte just stares at me with a shocked and bewildered look on her face.

“I’ll go, truly I’m so sorry about this, Ma’am.” I say with my eyes directed at the floor as I pray my rock-hard erection isn’t as obvious as it feels in my form fitting suit. Right as I turn to run back towards the window I hear her again.

“Wait! Please wait!”

Her eyes are wide as she slowly begins to smirk as I turn back around to face her, my eyes still drawn to the floor.

“I didn’t call out for Superman. I called out for Clark.” She says and I glance up at her with wide eyes as saucers as I realize that I had just outed my own secret. My cheeks blush and I can’t put together a single thought to respond to what she just said.

We stare at each other for what feels like minutes even though it’s only just a few seconds.

“I knew I was onto something. You’re always MIA around when Superman is on the news fighting crime, and you stiffen up anytime I mention him. You also had to leave early because of a “family emergency” on our third date but seemed confused later when I asked you if everything with your family was okay. That was the same night that serial killer was brought to the police station by Superman in Gotham. I…I hope you know that I won’t ever tell anyone, Clark. I thought you knew that you could trust me.” She says and I step towards her while remaining a safe distance.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I do trust you but I’ve had to keep this secret my entire life. I was scared at how easily you caught on. I always knew you were intelligent but I was hoping I could still keep you off of the scent of my deception.”

“It was really just a theory, but obviously this is my confirmation. Since I’m already more than embarrassed after what you just saw, I guess I really have nothing to lose if I just go ahead and ask you.”

“I’m listening.” I say as I hear her heartrate begin to increase steadily.

“Is this why you’ve held back from me? Or are you even interested in dating me? I’m absolutely fine with taking things slow if that’s what you want. I can’t help my old insecurities that make me wonder if you’re even attracted to me and are serious about taking things further with us.” She says with the sweetest innocence and I can’t help but walk towards her and reach out to stroke her cheek. She pulls for me to sit down beside her and I can’t resist.

“I am absolutely interested in dating you, sweetheart. If you only knew how infatuated I am with you, it might frighten you. You are my dream girl, the one I think about each night, and the one person I feel like truly sees to my soul, even when you only knew half of my identity. I see a future for us, Charlotte, which is why I was scared. I was scared that you would run if you found out who I am. I was scared you then might only be interested in me because I’m Superman. Simple Clark just can’t compete with all of the Superman fanfare. What scares me the most is that you could be used as a pawn by dangerous people. I can’t fathom putting you in harm's way. People could come after me and find you to use against me. Being Superman ruined my last and only real relationship so I guess I felt that if I kept ours in limbo, I could still have the time I crave with you while also not losing you. I was afraid to let you in because of my own fears. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. I can’t even begin to tell you how hard it was to not kiss you during our dates or come into your apartment when you invited me. I’m so sorry if I made you feel anything other than absolutely adored. I’m out of my element and have no idea what I’m doing.” Clark says the last part with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Clark, I understand your fears and your sense of self-preservation. I do it too. I often feel like I’ve built the walls around my heart too high in order to protect myself from heartache but each moment I’ve spent with you seems to lower them. I see a potential future with you too which is terrifying and exhilarating all at once because I don’t want to be heartbroken again. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are worth the risk. I’m not afraid of you, or being with you. I’m not going anywhere. I want you in any and every form and I won’t run away. You are the only person that has made me feel alive again in years.”

Clark smiles triumphantly before leaning down and kissing Charlotte passionately. After kissing her for several minutes, she slowly pulls back to catch her breath.

“So, you’ve seen mine… When do I get to see yours? Fair is fair.” Charlotte looks up at me sultrily as she runs her hands up and down my arms.

“Are you certain that is what you want?” I smirk as I arch my eyebrow at her.

She nods as she sits up on her knees and drops the blanket that was covering her body only clad in a thin white tank top.

“Only if you want too.” She seductively bites her lip as she trails her fingers down my torso and gently cups my bulge that is swelling indecently against my tight suit.

“Holy shit!” She murmurs quietly as she presses against my engorged erection and I can’t help but chuckle.

Before I even think I’m unzipping and tugging my suit off of my body at super speed before leaning over her and ripping her tank top from her torso. She squeals in excitement as I lean over her pressing our hot naked bodies against each other while pulling her into a zealous kiss.

“You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about having you like this, Lottie. I’ve wanted you to be mine from the moment I saw you.” I say as I touch all over her beautiful body.

“Ditto, which you obviously know since you got a front row seat to my indecent fantasies about you.” She says with a little giggle as I begin kissing down her torso after having already sucked on her pert breasts.

I make my way down her body as I become face to face with her hot, dripping core. I smell the sweet arousal coming from her and when I look up at her for permission she quickly nods as she reaches to caress my cheek. I smirk at her before I begin feasting on her sweet petals and sucking on her clit.

“Oh my god, Clark!” She almost yells while her hands tug against my hair as she begins gyrating her hips to increase the pleasure she is receiving from my mouth. I continue for a few minutes as I feel her begin to stiffen from her orgasm. I continue to lick her gently through her orgasm but decide that I’m not finished with her yet. I want to give her an orgasm so earth shattering that she squirts her arousal all over my face. She shouts as I shove my finger into her opening, quickly followed by a second one. I curl my fingers and search for her g-spot.

I know quickly that I’ve found it when her back arches off of the bed and she yells, “Fuck! Clark! Right there!”

I begin shoving my fingers against the soft spongey spot while my tongue continues to flick over her clit.

“I think I’m gonna… oh shit Clark! This feels different! Oh my god!” She squeals as her body arches off of the bed and she begins to squirt. The sounds of her squelching and dripping are lewd as I continue to work her through it. Her body almost convulses around my assault and I preen at her filthy moans. I am doing everything to keep from blowing my load on her bed. I watch as Charlotte’s whole body quickly becomes jelly-like as her muscles relax and I lightly kiss her thighs.

“That was beautiful, baby.” I say as I press small kisses on her hips and abdomen.

“Did I? Oh my god, Clark. Did I just squirt?” She asks as her cheeks are beet red.

“You sure did baby. Soaked my face and almost made me blow my load. Did it feel good?”

“Yes, but I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sor...” She began to say before I quickly cut her off with a kiss.

“Don’t you ever apologize for that sweetheart. That was a pure masterpiece and I hope I’ll get you to do it again at some point. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on.” I admit before kissing her again.

“Now it’s your turn.” She smiles as she attempts to push me to the bed. It’s like a kitten trying to push a lion over which makes me grin before I quickly concede and lay on my back.

“Babygirl, you don’t have too. I’m just happy to give you pleasure.” I tell her.

“Oh no, Mr. Kent. I’m not missing an opportunity to taste you.” Charlotte says as she begins moving down my body. I can barely lay still once she reaches my manhood and I feel her warm breath where I need her most. I groan as I take in the sight of her tiny hand wrapping around my girth as she begins to kitten lick along my length. I groan as she looks at me doe eyed before she takes me in her mouth. She has the mouth of a goddess and I’m already close before she even adds her tiny hand to pump what wouldn’t fit. I reach down and grab her long beautiful hair into a makeshift ponytail so I can watch her. I feel her tiny hand begin pulsing around my balls and groan loudly. I can’t help myself as I watch her steady herself before taking my entire length to her throat. She gags as her nose reaches my skin and she slightly pulls off before doing it again. Saliva is dripping from her chin as she continues working my cock.

“Babygirl, I’m gonna cum. You need to...fuck… stop if you don’t want it in your mouth.”

She moans around my length as she doubles her effort and the vibrations feel heavenly. That’s all it took for me to reach my high and explode down her throat.

My body shivers in aftershocks due to the oversensitivity as Y/N continues to suck around the head of my cock and massage my balls. I look down and see that she’s swallowed everything and is smiling brightly at me. I reach down and pull her up my body as I immediately begin kissing her breathless.

“Darling, that was incredible. Thank you.” I smile at her before I kiss down her neck.

*CHARLOTTE POV*

My mind is empty of every thought due to the alarm bells and “OMG THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING” screaming repeatedly in my head. I’m trying my best to play it off, but my fantasy is coming true and it’s even better than I ever could have imagined. Clark is not only the best kisser I’ve ever experienced, but he has the body of a Greek God. Well, in this case, he has a body of a superhero. I’ve been doing my best not to sound needy but heavens, I need him inside of me.

“Clark” I say as he continues to press gentle kisses behind my ear and the column of my neck.

“Yes angel?”

“Please tell me I don’t have to wait long for you to be inside of me. I need you.”

He smirks above me as I feel his rigid cock against my abdomen. It didn’t go soft after his orgasm. “You want me right now?” I nod enthusiastically.

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart. Take what you want.” Clark says huskily in my ear. For a man who seemed so reserved and shy, he has all of the confidence in the world when it comes to the bedroom. As he should!

I smile wildly as his chest vibrates against my own with a low growl as I reach his hard length and pump him a few times against my slick before pressing him to my entrance.

“Oh my god!”

“Shit!”

We both speak simultaneously as he seats himself fully inside of me. It feels like he is reaching my lungs as he gives me a moment to adjust around his ginormous cock.

“God, Clark! You’re huge!”

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” Clark frets even though he hasn’t moved inside of me.

“Fuck no!” I respond almost breathlessly as I wrap my hands around his biceps tightly.

“I’ve just never been with someone as big as you. I’m okay. You can move now.”

Clark carefully pulls almost completely out of me before gently sliding all the way back in.

“Baby girl, you are so tight and warm. You feel incredible.” He says as he starts building up a gentle rhythm.

“You won’t break me, baby. You can go harder.”

“I could if I’m not careful, Sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I will tell you if it starts to hurt, I swear. Relax, baby.” I say before kissing him enthusiastically. He reaches and cups my tits in his hands, massaging them gently.

Clark watches me carefully before taking a breath and slamming into me roughly. His pubic bone slamming into my clit making me shriek with the sensation.

“How’s that for harder?” He whispers.

“Oh, fuck yes, baby! Just like that! You feel so good inside of me.” I whine as my hands scratch down his back without even making a mark on his strong impenetrable skin.

“That’s right, sweet girl. I can tell you’re close. Come all over my cock. Squeeze me.” He says as my body begins milking him.

“CLARK!” I shout.

“Call me Kal, baby. When I’m balls deep inside this sweet pussy, I want you to call me Kal.” He says with the most shit eating grin while never slowing his pace.

“Oh my god, Kal!” I moan just before my eyes roll back and I instantly come all over him.

“Fuck yes, this is the tightest little pussy in the world. So beautiful and wet and snug around me.” He grunts as he continues to slam into me. Before I realize it, he’s sitting me up in his lap so that our chests are against each other and my legs are wrapped around his waist. Clark grabs the back of my neck to press himself even closer to me as I brace my hands on his shoulders.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly become more beautiful….” Clark whispers into my ear as he grabs my ass to help me move on top of him.

“Watching your gorgeous body tremble in ecstasy is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, Angel.”

Clark plants his feet against the floor and begins wildly thrusting as I rotate my hips in his lap. His hands are most likely leaving bruises on my hips but I don’t even care.

“I want you to come inside of me, baby. I need to feel you fill me up. I’m on the pill. Please?” I speak against his ear between his heavy thrusts into me and clench down on him at his responding moan. What has gotten into me? I’ve never let a man come inside of me. This isn’t just any man though, and I am absolutely feral for him.

“Only if you come with me.” He grunts.

“I can’t… it’s too much.” I tell him as my body shakes against him.

“Yes, you can, baby.” He reaches between us and presses his thumb on my clit. I cry out from overstimulation but realize I’m almost there.

“Kal, right there! I’m so close!”

“Come baby. Soak me.” He says as he continues to pleasure me and a moment later I have the most blinding orgasm of my life. I swear that I feel like I am floating as I hear Clark grunt and release a deep baritone moan as his warm come coats my inner walls. My body is shaking with tingles to all of my extremities as I am encased in pure bliss. When I finally somewhat come to, I realize I wasn’t just floating from my orgasm, Clark and I were actually floating above my bed. Clark’s head is resting on the junction of my neck and shoulder when I quickly press closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling.

Clark chuckles as he gently sets us down on the bed. “I guess you would’ve found out my secret eventually. I just came so hard that I literally levitated.”

I giggle and press my lips to his. “I didn’t freak you out, did I?”

“Not at all. I think it’s really cool that you are Superman, Kal;” I say as I stroke a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. “but the man that I have been falling in love with is Clark. He is all I need. The rest is just a bonus. If you’ll have me of course.”

Clark rests his forehead against my own as he gives me the most panty dropping smile. “You don’t know how much that means to me, sweetheart. Will you be my girl?”

“I would love nothing more.” I respond with a sweet kiss. The rest of the weekend is spent wrapped in each other.

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill characters #clark kent #superman x reader #clark kent x y/n #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine

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