#and become friends or something even more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katsu28 · 3 days

Text

home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.”

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was.

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips.

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.”

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most.

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch.

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room.

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing.

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing.

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench.

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise.

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you.

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal.

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms.

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own.

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor.

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.”

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.”

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.”

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.”

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?”

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled.

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.”

Oh, if only he knew.

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.”

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.”

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on.

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out.

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word.

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?”

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him.

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.”

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits.

“What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression.

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking.

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?”

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.”

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms.

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Yeah, I am pretty great.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.”

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.”

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.”

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional.

“Is that a promise?”

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.”

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could.

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night.

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined.

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch.

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that.

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something.

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room.

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine.

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time.

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano.

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in.

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world.

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead.

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now.

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring.

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly.

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?”

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.”

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.”

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?”

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep.

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh.

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell.

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course.

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more.

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask.

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable.

“Any requests from the audience?”

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow.

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker.

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa.

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine.

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own.

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him.

God, why were you even thinking of those things?

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend.

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop.

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him.

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him.

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place.

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice.

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up.

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something.

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow.

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.”

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.”

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.”

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.”

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?”

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.”

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him.

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles.

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.”

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—”

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.”

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all.

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.”

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign.

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.”

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?”

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?”

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.”

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you.

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly.

“Then why did you?”

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.”

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone.

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.”

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued.

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had.

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.”

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.”

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head.

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?”

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you.

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?”

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.”

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them.

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc x fem!reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you #cl16 #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc one shot #truly this was only supposed to be like 2k words #this man invokes many emotions in me what can i say #if u made it this far into my tags hi hello i hope u enjoyed and thank u for reading! i appreciate u <3

638 notes · View notes

slvttyplum · 1 day

Note

hi love! can you please write a jealous gojo smut

being friends with an ex wasn't ideal at all, but there you were, cracking it on the phone with them at 10 o'clock at night in bed. satoru thought he had to be dreaming, seeing things, or hallucinating, but no, he wasn't doing any of those things; he was seeing it nice and clear, with that pretty ass smile on your face that he thought was reserved just for him.

at first, he let it slide. he knew before that you stated that you and your ex were casual and would catch up every few months, but your phone time with them started to become frequent, and he wasn't liking it one fucking bit. this was off the rails, and he knew that if he was doing this, you would throw a fit, and that's exactly what he was about to do.

there you were, laid up on your phone again with a smile on your face as you typed and typed away without a care in the world, satoru's cheeks flushing red from anger, thinking that someone was out to get him, that this was some sick joke, but it was neither; you were just too nice, and he was going to handle it.

there was no discussion, argument, or ultimatum; it was just his dick inside of you with an angry face. he could teach you better than he could tell you. with something like this, he couldn't be patient. he tried to give it some time to dial down, but that wasn't happening any time soon, so he had to distract you in the best way possible, in a way that he knew your mind would be flooded with him only.

shock was the last thing that came to mind when satoru started to fuck you out of nowhere, not taking any time to slip your panties off either. you thought it was just him being a horny dog until it started to become frequent. he started to just walk in the room and scan his eyes at your hands to see if your phone was sitting in them, and if it was, he would just fuck you with no question asked.

it didn't even have to be at night or even once a day; you could be minding your business, and he was there, tossing the phone out of your hand and sliding your panties to the side. it started to become more like a chore than satoru actually fucking you, until one particular night he fucked the marbles out of your head. he fucked you so well you could barely breathe; it was so good you almost had to tell your friends about it.

he came into the room like every other night and scanned over you to see if that phone was in their hands, and surprise, surprise, they were. satoru was over the whole situation; he was tired of it, so he had to be petty one final time, and he would stop, but not because he had to, but because your ex wouldn't want to text you after what was sent.

it was a given that satoru would record during sex; that was jerking material; why wouldn't he when you gave him permission to? so that's exactly what he did, taking his time this time, setting up his phone, and doing the usual foreplay. getting you nice and wet, so wet that his finger could easily slip in and out of you with ease, slowly pulling down his briefs and sliding himself into you.

its like you saw heaven, your pupils growing bigger and a sharp gasp slipping past your soft lips. there it was, that expression he hasn't seen in a while, an expression of shock and pleasure mixing together to get that sexy lewd look on your face.

multiple positions, sweat rubbing off on each other's bodies, and makeup on your face running that you didn't even know was still on; it had your toes curling and back arching. you never wanted him to stop, and luckily for satoru, he didn't. he wanted to make a statement and send a message that you were his and for his use only; no one else was going to have the experience of fucking you the way he did or having you gasp for air whenever he hit the right spot.

tossing you around and not even asking to change positions, laying you on your back just to push you against his chest and slam into you even deeper. his dick so far inside of you, you thought it was going to get lost, wanting to clench and feel on your stomach, but satoru poinned both your hands against your back.

"tell me how good you feel, baby; no one else can make you feel like this, right?" his mouth close to your ear but still loud enough to where the camera could hear, looking directly at it and pushing into you more, small gasps slipping out of your mouth and your saliva dripping down your chin. satoru kisses your cheek as he grinds into you, trying to make himself go deeper, knowing it was impossible.

"yes... only you." your eyes rolling to the top of your head and your head spinning, satoru fucked you so good that night you had to call sick to work the next day, and as for the recording and your ex, you didn't even think about them after that night, and that was perfect because you never found out about the recording satoru sent.

never go tit for tat with satoru because he was winning every time.

848 notes · View notes

keerysfreckles · 2 days

Text

coming of age — MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

summary: in which a silly bet between the two redbull drivers becomes a reality when y/n wins the first race of the 2024 season.

warnings: not proofread, sorry for spelling mistakes!!

a/n: LET ME COOK ‼️‼️

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

ever since y/n l/n joined f1 in 2019, joining her best friends, lando norris, alex albon and george russell, her life flipped upside down.

she's been in four teams since her debut. she started in mclaren with lando in 2019, then got told the news carlos sainz would be taking her seat in 2020.

she then got moved to williams, which proved she deserved to be in a better car. she excelled as best she could with what she was given, securing the 10th spot in the drivers championship. but she wanted more.

so for the next two years y/n joined ferrari, alongside one of her formula one idols, charles leclerc. both ferrari drivers proved they earned their spots every year, until y/n got into a crash during an australian free practice. to put it lightly, she was forced to use crutches for the rest of the 2022 season. therefore at the end of 2022, she was told carlos would replace her for the upcoming years.

january 2023 rolls around, and y/n still didn't have a seat. however, a certain redbull driver had his eyes on her ever since she joined, watching as she made her way up the fornula one ladder. climbing each step in order to get to the podium, but not a win. the driver believed if she worked at redbull, she'd get that long awaited win.

so max verstappen had a plan. he spent the whole week trying his best to convince christian horner to take y/n in for the 2023 season. they needed a second driver anyway, and needed to announce it as soon as possible.

after days of constantly bothering the team principal, it was finally announced to the world that y/n would be joining redbull under a multi-year contract.

to say y/n excelled in redbull the past year would be an understatement. y/n was proudly on the podium nineteen out of the twenty-three races held. so close to the win, but always settling for second and third place.

y/n was done settling. she knew 2024 was going to be her year, and the pre season training was already going more than smoothly. both her and max were the fastest on track every day, with merely seconds between them.

from her first day in the redbull car, y/n and max had a bet going on; if y/n could win whatever race they were participating in that weekend, she'd have to kiss max. it started out as a small joke, but y/n couldn't help but wonder what max's lips would feel like on hers. would it be a quick kiss? or something more? all questions that wouldn't be answered until she won, and she was trying to do that here in bahrain.

it was a redbull front row, making the start of the race easy for both drivers. both pit stops went by smoothly, and their strategies were working wonders.

with only five laps to go, her race engineer spoke into her ear pieces.

"pace is still good, max is in front with 1.3 second gap," john spoke calmly, watching through the screens from the pit wall.

y/n replies shortly, before focusing back on the task at hand. every single race she's wanted to beat max, but this time felt much more real. maybe there was more adrenaline from the crowd, or maybe the car was going faster this year. whatever it was, she wouldn't know.

"gap .9 now, drs is enabled."

y/n pressed a button in response, turning on her drs as she passed down the straight. the muffled screams from the outside world seemed to get louder and louder as she got closer to the rear of max's car.

if she blinked, she would've missed the moment she finally over took her teammate. for a second, even she was confused.

"did we just pass max?" she asked john, her voice shaking slightly.

john chuckles into the microphone, "you did my dear. only two laps to go now, keep the pace."

y/n did as instructed. the world around her went quiet again as she saw the checkered flag, only a few feet away from her.

"y/n l/n wins her very first formula one grand prix! she wins in bahrain, making it a redbull 1-2 this evening!"

y/n instantly screams into her helmet, hearing the laughs and shouts from the pit wall and redbull crew coming out of the garage.

she slowed down for a cool down lap, waving and pumping her fist as she drove by the grand stands. max drove besider her now, giving her a thumbs up. he could practically hear the girls laughter and cheers from his own car.

y/n wasn't sure when the tears started to flow, but she kept wiping her face after taking her helmet off. as soon as she weighed in, she was running to the redbull crew waiting for her behind the barricades.

she yelled before being lifted into the air by the sea of navy blue. y/n was on cloud nine as she was being set back down onto the ground.

christian was waiting just outside the barricade, with his arms wide open.

"you stinker! i knew this day would come," he congratulates the girl, enveloping her in a warm hug.

the smile never leaves her face as the drivers come to congratulate her. max gives her a hug first, and y/n can't tell if he kissed her temple, or if she was just imagining it with all the adrenaline coursing through her.

lando was next, considering he got third, he was already waiting for her once he parked his car. he spun her off the ground, when the other 2019 rookies came running up to the pair.

a cameraman patted lando on the shoulder, gesturing for them to lift y/n up. he complied, as the three boys somehow lifted y/n onto their shoulders, posing as the shutters of the camera went off.

carlos and charles congratulated her next, both telling her how proud they were of her.

finally being able to sit in the middle seat in the cool down room felt unreal for y/n. putting on the winner's hat was more than enough, but sitting in between lando and max sealed the deal.

lando got to the podium first, with the mclaren crew cheering him on from the ground.

max was next, still with a big smile on his face, despite not winning the race.

finally y/n emerged from around the corner. y/n's heart swelled as the crowd below her cheered louder than anyone has ever heard it before. lando and max both held out their hands for high fives as she stood on the top of the podium.

she couldn't control the smile on her face as she recieved your first medal, and first formula one trophy. as anyone else wouldve done, she held the trophy low to the ground as the crowd below started to roar. once she lifted it above her head the crowd went wild once again.

she watched proudly as max and lando were handed their trophies, lifting them above their heads as well.

y/n basked in the bahrain sunset as the national anthem of her country played through the speakers. shortly after the austrian anthem played, while both her and max looked down to their team in awe. neither of them would be where they are today without them.

not even a second passes after the austrian anthem is over, and max and lando are ambusing y/n with their champagne. she laughs and screams as the cold alcohol sprays down her racing suit. she tries her best to spray max and lando, but can't help but continue wiping her eyes as a mix of tears and champagne fall down her cheeks.

as y/n's still wiping her eyes and the champagne in the bottles is almost empty, max takes her chin softly in his hand. she looks up at him, her heart starting to race again once she realized what her win means in terms of the silly bet the two drivers have.

y/n would've gladly payed a thousand dollars to see the look on everyone's face when max pulled her lips to his. still with her champagne bottle in one hand, she grabs onto max's bicep. making her realize he's really here and kissing her, and to keep her on her feet.

lando was the most caught off gaurd. he turned just in time after leaning down to grab his trophy. his eyes went wide as he watched the two redbu drivers.

the redbull crew all cheered, all silently hoping this moment would happen. they all knew about the longing glances between drivers, and how they got along so quickly when y/n first joined the team.

"finally a race winner," max mumbles against the top of y/n's head, kissing her hair. he wraps his arm around her as the two begin to walk out of the champagne covered platform. she waits for lando, pausing her and max's movements. once lando's by her side, she walks with both of them. her smile still never leaves.

after getting a group picture and video with the redbull crew, and probably taking a million pictures to post on the teams social media platforms, y/n and max go to their drivers rooms.

y/n facetimes her parents quickly, knowing how early in the morning it is for them.

finally changing into dry and much more comfortable clothes, a knock interrupts her thoughts.

"race winner looks good on you," max smiles after closing the door behind him.

y/n can't help but laugh, her smile growing once again.

"i can't believe it finally happened," she shakes her head. max sits on her sofa, watching as she packs her backpack.

"we all knew it would happen, it was just a matter of when," max states, causing a small blush to adorn y/n's cheeks.

"i hope you know i'm more than proud of you," max admits, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.

y/n zips her bag, not looking at the dutchman next to her, "yeah, the whole team seemed so." she laughs again at the thought of how happy the redbull garage was for the girl.

max chuckles, "no y/n, i'm saying i'm more than proud of you." he looks up at her now, meeting her eyes.

"thank you max," she smiles again.

before he can contemplate his own thoughts any further, he stands to walk out of the room. he rubs his hand on y/n's shoulder before exiting, "i'll be right out, so we can walk out together, yeah?"

y/n's lucky to catch max's attention just as his hand grabs the door handle.

"i'm surprised you stayed with your word, and kissed me today," y/n turns to face max.

he turns as well, still leaving a fair amount of space between the two of them.

he shrugs and y/n doesn't miss the slight blush on his cheeks, "well yeah, a bet's a bet. no one can back out of one."

y/n takes a few steps forward. the confidence could've been from the dying adrenaline, but whatever it was from, she was going to use it.

"so if it weren't for the bet, you wouldn't have kissed me?"

max chuckles, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. a stutter becoming more prominent between every word, "no, no i mean if it were a right time i would've kissed you. i just wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, yeah?"

he continues stumbling over his words, causing the girl in front of him to giggle. his heart bursts at the sound.

"are you just going to stand there while i make a fool out of myself?" he asks, out of breath from rambling. his hands fall to his sides.

"i could," y/n states, watching max's smile falter slightly. "or i could just kiss you."

before max could get a proper response out, y/n leans up to press her lips against his for the second time that night. his hands instantly find their way to her waist, as hers hold both sides of his face.

"so if i won a race earlier, would i still have gotten a kiss?" y/n asks, just centimeters away from max's lips.

"screw just a kiss, we would've been a couple a whole lot sooner."

max cuts off y/n's giggle with another kiss.

the second kiss of many between the drivers.

608 notes · View notes

littlemissmiller · 2 days

Text

𝑀𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: the summer before you graduated college, Joel Miller became a regular at the bar you worked. he was perfect except one small problem…you already have a boyfriend

Warning: 21+ (drinking), fluff, slight age gap (reader is in her early 20s and Joel is 30) smut, oral (f receiving) p in v, slight body worshipping, porn with plot

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: i did it! i finally wrote a fic to live up to my blog name! i’m so proud of this one y’all like omg…i love it, it’s so perfect. such a cute lil fluffy smut (≧◡≦) ♡ also still can’t get over the fact that people like my little hobby, so thank you for all the love! it only encourages me to write more. speaking of which, i have so many stories for the summer coming up, especially with tom blyth coming back as billy. i already have a few stories started so hopefully they will be out sooner rather then later. ok that’s it i have nothing more to say. enjoy ❣︎

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

It was your last summer before graduating college and being home made you want to cherish your last year even more. You were looking forward to it and ready to be done bartending so you could see your friends and have some real fun. Sure, this job made you a ton of cash, but being home was nothing in comparison to being with your college friends in a town totally catered to you and your fellow students. Although your hometown had its perks. At least it used to. Your longtime boyfriend had never left your hometown or went to college. He had instead opted for going into a trade and becoming an electrician.

Your relationship was strong at first, but every semester it became harder and harder to navigate. Time after time you had convinced yourself that he was still your best friend, but meeting new people in college and getting to experience the joys of youth on your own for the first time, had given you a lot of perspective. So every birthday, holiday, and summer, you felt like you were coming home to a completely different man. Yet you stayed with him because you really wanted to make it work and you told yourself you loved him. Yet something unexpected had happened. One evening at work, a group of men came in to watch the Rangers game. That’s when you first met him and that’s the night Joel Miller would become a regular at your bar.

He was clearly older, at least thirty, but you couldn’t help but practically gawk at him all night. And you couldn’t help but think that Joel was eyeing you too. But you felt a wave of guilt overcome you. You knew you shouldn’t feel like this. You knew you shouldn’t be staring down another man like that but you couldn’t help it. But his arms looked so strong, like he could carry you effortlessly. You couldn’t help the way you smiled every time he would share a boisterous laugh with his friends. His own sweet smile drew you in and you noticed he had the cutest cheek nimble on top of it. From his big chiseled nose to his perfectly crafted jawline, he was an absolute Adonis. Just then another wave of guilt washed over you and you tried to shake away your feelings of disloyalty as you walked into the kitchen, putting their food order in.

As you walked out of the kitchen and brought them their next set of drinks, you tried not to look at him so much but it’s hard not to. Then he spoke up.

“Hey darling? Could I get some more napkins when you get the chance?”

“Yeah sure!” You scurried off and came back immediately

He smiled at you as he thanked you which made your heart flutter. As you made your way back to the kitchen, another server catches up to you.

“Who’s the handsome cowboy at 13?” She asked

“Oh” you started “I’m not sure. Are you talking about the man in the white shirt?” You lied acting like she was talking about someone else

“Girl, don’t play. I can see him undressing you right now”

You glanced over, and caught him smiling at you while he sipped his beer. You started to smile back, when the guilt hit you again and you turned back to your co-worker.

“Oh…yeah…h-he is handsome yeah…but not like I’m interested.” You lied again

“Okaaay whatever you say…” she said unconvinced, rushing off to her table

Joel and his buddies left around 9 and you noticed that Joel leaves the biggest tip out of everyone. Around 10 o’ clock you clocked out and headed to your boyfriend’s house where you had planned on spending the night. Once you arrived, you walked straight into his room where he was playing some PC game. His back was towards you and he didn’t notice you at first with his big headset on. You hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek. He startled and you jumped back.

“Woah! Hey! Your home” he remarked, clutching his chest, barely glancing at you “Jesus you scared me.”

“Clearly” you giggled

“God don’t sneak up on me like that. Could have cost me the game” he sighed, as he returned his full attention to the screen.

“What ya playing?

“COD” he remarked dryly

“Are you gonna be finishing soon?” You inquired

“Ahh probably not. I figured you’d be too tired to hang after your shift so I told the boys I’d be on tonight.”

“I thought you said we would watch a movie after work tonight?”

“Oh yeah, I mean I don’t know I just kinda figured you’d want to go to bed when you got home. Plus you fall asleep to every movie we watch together”

“Yeah” you sighed in disappointment, wanting to follow it up with “but that’s not the point.” You knew he’d get upset at you for pulling him away from his game. “I just want to cuddle you.”

“Ok ok I got ya. I’ll be in bed soon, ok.” He said halfhearted, still not looking at you.

You changed into a pair of sweat shorts and an old shirt and got ready for bed. As you climb into bed you want to cry. And you questioned your guilt from tonight. Maybe it was because it had been a while since a man seemingly flirted with you that made you realize just how lousy your boyfriend has become. When was the last time he genuinely made you feel special? You fell asleep, but were woken up by small kisses on your neck, but your boyfriend began to move more aggressively, trusting and grinning his crotch against your ass. At that point you’re too tired for sex, and all you wanted was for him to hold you and care for you.

“Mmm babe I’m really tired” you whined

“I thought you wanted attention?” He asked, continuing his actions. You pushed away slightly but he continued, only pulling you closer against his chest.

“I do, just not like this. Not right now ok? I just want to sleep.”

He sighed, turning over

“See this is why I don’t want to do a movie with you. I knew you would be too tired.”

“That’s not…” you wanted to finish your sentence again and say “that’s not fair” but once again that would probably upset him and now he was annoyed with you so you don’t want to push it. “I just want to sleep now ok.”

“Ok. It’s fine. Goodnight.” He huffed, falling asleep.

The next couple of shifts your mind is preoccupied by your newfound feelings about your relationship. Your boyfriend wasn’t abusive by any means, but it was clear the relationship wasn’t healthy anymore. That’s when the crying at work started. Mainly because you had just come from his house before each shift and every interaction with him pained you. The only thing that kept you from continuously calling off was Joel. Almost every shift around 5 o’clock he would come in, order a few beers, maybe something to eat, and chat it up with you.

By the third week, all your co-workers were teasing you about him. Whenever his truck would pull up in the parking lot, someone would come get you.

“Your cowboy is here!” Someone yelled out to you, stepping out of the kitchen. You left the servers station to greet him.

“Hey Joel! Mich Ultra? You asked

“You know it darling. How you’ve been?” He smiled, causing you to practically melt into a puddle. You gathered yourself and smiled back at him.

“About the same as the last time you saw me.”

“And still as beautiful as ever.” He winked

“You flatter me Mr. Miller. I bet Mrs. Miller is one special lady hmm?” You asked more or less trying to see if he was actually flirting with you or just being nice.

“She would if there was one.”

“Oh I thought you said you have a daughter?” You questioned more

“And a man can’t be a single dad in this world? How sexist of you” he chuckled sarcastically

You rolled your eyes at him and laughed along.

“I just thought such a handsome cowboy as yourself would have a beautiful gal to go home to.”

“I wish…” he sighed, eyes giving you a once over

“So where is she then? Your daughter? If not with her mom. You know we allowed kids in before 9 right?”

“Yeah, she just has soccer practice at this time three days a week. I figured why not wait for her to be done and come see you since I’m out and about.” He explained

“Ain’t you just a charmer.” I’ll get you that beer.”

You walk over to behind the bar and fetch Joel his beer.

“He’s just all over you” one of the bartenders remarked

“And he tips well too.”

“Gee I wonder why” they smirked, giving you a look “how does your boyfriend feel about him?”

“I mean he’s just a customer. They flirt all the time and who doesn’t like the extra cash?” You started quickly

“Mhmm sure” they said

You walk back to him, bringing him his beer and continuing to chat with him. He ordered another beer then left to go pick up his daughter Sarah.

Now every time at work shift, it felt like an escape. It also felt like a fantastic secret that only you knew about. A fantasy being played out in real life. Joel was so charming.

Even though he was older, his youthful demeanor shone through. He was caring too. If he wasn’t asking about you and your life, he was talking about his daughter. You could tell she was his world. He absolutely adored her, and you loved to listen to him go on and on about her. You didn’t quite care what your co-workers would say or how your boss didn’t like that you hovered around his table, sometimes neglecting your other ones.

But he couldn’t complain too much given Joel was a respectful, paying customer. And a great tipper. And he would always leave a little note on his receipt. Nothing too flirtatious, just innocent enough to toe the line. This went on for a couple more weeks, your boyfriend none the wiser. Not like he was paying much attention to you anymore. Every note, you would take them and make sure to hide them when you got home. You stored them in your sock drawer and kept them secret like everything else about him. You still felt guilty though and realize that you need to end things with your boyfriend. It’s harder than you thought and truthfully you don’t know how to leave someone you’ve cared about that much. And been with for so long. But talking to Joel made you realize what you needed. And what you wanted. And you wanted him. And something told you he wanted you too.

Then back at home, living with your boyfriend it was a totally different reality. He felt so disconnected from you, so indifferent. And the more you faded away from him the less you felt like you really loved him still. And he noticed you pulling away from him. One night, you came home and had kept another one of Joel’s receipts.

“See you Wednesday :) Joel”

You left your server book out on his bed, along with your purse and hopped into the shower without thinking. When you got out of the shower, your boyfriend was sitting on his gamer chair, nose deep in your server book. You froze and tightened the towel around you nervously.

“Oh hey babe. When did you get home? I thought you and the boys were having a boys night? “

“We decided to just get dinner instead. What’s this?” He asked, holding up the receipt.

“Oh, just one of my regulars. Don’t worry about it.” You giggled, trying to play it cool reaching for the book. He holds it back from you and stands up.

“Who’s Joel?”

“My regular” you repeated

“Oh yeah. I bet he tips you well hmm? Pays you lots of attention?” He asked accusatorily.

“I-he…he’s just a regular we get them all the time.”

“Yeah, but you said he is one of YOUR regulars. Why yours? Why is he writing you notes?”

“He-he just always sits in my section I don’t know. That’s not too unusual…and a lot of customers write thank you notes and stuff I can’t control them!” You insisted, readjusting your towel again

“You expect me to believe that?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Well I don’t need creepy men hitting on my girl at work.” He barked back

“He’s not creepy and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Oh then what is he?”

“He’s just a customer!” You argued even though it was a lie

From that moment on, your boyfriend had grown highly suspicious of your relationship with him and Joel. Wednesday rolled around and Joel showed up again as expected. You nervously approached him as he sat down.

“Well hey their sugar” he smiled

“Hey Joel” you replied, only giving him a half smile

He searched your face and could tell something is up.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just life stuff. So Mich Ultra?”

He nodded and you walked off. His eyes followed you, watching you as you went to the bar. You came back and gave him his beer. You wanted to set it down and walk away, but Joel’s concerned eyes beckoned you to say.

“Thinking about food?” You asked him

“Maybe. I’m sorry doll, I don’t mean to pry but if I did anything to put you off-“

“No Joel of course it’s not you it’s just…relationship issues” you huff

“Sorry to hear that sugar. I hope y’all can work it out”

“I hope so” you sigh, knowing it’s a lie.

Just then your boyfriend storms into the bar. You don’t notice him at first, but then you hear a set of heavy footsteps approaching towards you and you look up. Confused, you call out his name.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t visit my girl at work anymore?” He asked glancing at Joel

“Excuse me.” You mumble to Joel, walking over to him and grabbing his hand. You lead him out of the building.

“What are you doing?!” You shouted

“Is that him? Is that Joel?” he sneered

“Why do you care all of a sudden hmm? You’ve barely paid attention to me in the last few months. What happened to us?” You nearly sobbed.

He sighed and shook his head

“What do you want from me? I mean I’m frustrated with you too if that helps. You have completely shut yourself off, don’t tell me shit! I’m upset too! Especially that I know you’re flaunting yourself around weirdo old men.”

“Stop! That’s it, I can't do this anymore. I’m so scared to tell you anything because of how you act when I share your feelings. When I come home, you ignore me and frankly it seems like you only give me affection when you want to fuck me!”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, throwing his arms up.

“Oh my god! You over exaggerate everything. Is this why you’re acting like an attention seeker? Because you think I don’t pamper you?”

“Unbelievable. Pampering really…you know what I’m not arguing with you! I’m done! We’re done!” You shout and storm back into the back

“Done? Really like that? Four years done like that? Fine whatever, be that way, I know you don’t mean it. I’ll see you at home.” And he storms off back to his car.

You wanted to cry as you stormed back into the bar, but you held yourself together.

You tried to hide your clearly upset face as you rushed back into the kitchen and into the back alley next to the dumpsters. Joel noticed and ran out of the bar looking for you. He searched around the building then he called out to you.

“Hey. What’s wrong.”

You can’t help it. One look at him, and you ran into his arms. He embraced you, holding you tight.

“Hey my little firefly…what’s wrong?” He asked, his sweet southern drawl falling like your tears.

“I loved him Joel… why do people stop loving you back…” you sobbed

Joel gently stroked your hair, attempting to calm you down. It didn’t feel strange to be held by him. You felt safe, and comfortable in his arms, despite barely knowing him or even having any interaction with him outside of work, that moment felt right.

“I don’t know darling.�� Joel sighed

You eventually gathered yourself and go back inside with him. Your boss thankfully didn’t notice your absence. Joel returned to his table and you returned to your other patrons. After his beer, Joel left and you didn’t really get a chance to see him leave. When you went to collect his tap you saw another note this time with his phone number and it read:

“Gotta go get Sarah. Call me if you need to talk”

Your heart dropped. He had finally given you his number and at the same time you still felt guilty. Even though you had, despite what your now ex-boyfriend thinks, finally ended your relationship. And here the opportunity was. Right in front of you. You look at the receipt, take it, fold it and immediately put it in your pocket to keep it safe. You clock out at ten and are all too eager to get into your car to call Joel. Once you do, you dial the number and it rings.

“Hello?”

“He-hey Joel it’s me…” you uttered

“You ok darling?” He asked sweetly

Maybe it was his voice, the question, or the fact that the weight of the burdens of your life seemed to have fallen apart around you, but you cried again. Letting it all out and at the same time feeling better than ever.

“Hey hey hey” Joel whispered “I just put Sarah to bed…why don’t you come over here? We can talk ok?”

You nodded and sobbed.

“Ok…”

Joel texted you his address and you put it into your GPS. It’s only about a ten minute drive to his house and when you pulled up, you nervously exit your vehicle. You walked up the front door and knocked quietly, not wanting to wake Sarah. A moment later, it swung open and Joel’s handsome face looked at yours with deep concern.

“Come on in.”

You nodded and walked into his home. As expected it’s much nicer than your boyfriends, but then again Joel is an actual adult, with a kid, and mortgage to pay off so it was to be slightly expected. It wasn’t too fancy, just your standard suburban home. You walked over to the couch and Joel followed you.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Honestly I need something a little strong. Got any whiskey?”

He smiled ear to ear.

“Ya betcha.” And he rushed off into his kitchen.

You made yourself comfortable and tried to relax as you looked around Joel’s living room. You curiously strode over to his bookshelf and read the titles. Lots of history books, a few fiction and then you noticed the framed photo of him and his daughter. You realize you’ve never seen a photo of her, but she’s just as beautiful as you could have imagined. You smiled and Joel caught you in your curiosity.

“She’s been my little gem since day one. Just me and her. I don’t think I ever told ya, but her mom left us so…” he remarked.

You looked at him, smiled and nodded.

“She’s beautiful, Joel. You’re a great dad.”

Joel sat the glasses of whiskey down on the shelf and reached for your hand. You gasp slightly, look at where he’s touched you and then look up into his eyes. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You asked me why people stop loving people back and ya know, I still don’t have a good answer for that. I guess it’s because I’ve been asking myself the same thing for the last twelve years.”

“Joel…you’re such a good man…” you sighed, squeezing his hand.

“You’re too kind darling.” He smiled

“No really.”

You stared at him for a moment. His eyes searched your own looking for what he suspected you wanted from him. He cupped your face and he leaned in to kiss you. His lips fit perfectly against yours, like he was made for you. It was perfect and passionate. He was so gentle, yet you could feel how badly he had wanted this moment with you. He pulled back for a moment to make sure he hadn’t crossed the line.

“Got a bedroom?” You smirked

Before you knew it, Joel was crawling on top of you and you took off your shirt. At the same time he was busy frantically kissing your neck and jaw. He tossed it off and Joel took a moment to admire your chest. He gasped and reached to grope your breasts. Your soft, perky mounds fit perfectly in his hand and he began to massage you. He was in utter awe of you. Almost overwhelmed that he was getting to have you like this. You stared back up at him, equally in awe at that moment.

His big brown eyes melted your heart and all your troubles melted too. Fuck your lousy ex. All you wanted and needed was Joel. He kissed you again as he continued to play with your breasts. You let out a few giggles that turned into harsh, sharp moans as he moved his mouth down your body.

“Fuck…” you whispered, the word dancing around the room.

As his lips trailed you, your body reacted, your hips bucked and you were practically squirming under him. When his mouth found your cleavage, you felt the heat in between your legs grow stronger.

He continued to kiss you, only breaking away to take off his own shirt. He was toned, his skin smooth and he was unbelievably broad. You couldn’t help but admire the way his collar bone met his neckline. It was clean and sharp. You tried not to think of your ex, but in comparison he was not as fit as the gorgeous man in front of you. You placed your hands on his chest and felt his pecs, running your fingers down to his abdomen. You leaned up to kiss him again. His lips were so soft and addictive. You could’ve kissed him all night, but your desires beckoned for more. He held you up slightly and flipped you over. As he did he unhooked your bra and you let it fall off your chest. He tossed it on the ground and admired your bare chest for the first time.

“You’re so gorgeous. “ he uttered as your hair fell in front of you.

He pushed it out of the way and cupped your face. He pulled you back down to capture your mouth once again, lightly gripping the back of your neck. Your bare boobs pressed down against his chest, a feeling which you love. Skin on skin, the close intimacy and the feeling of being wanted more than just something to fuck. That’s how your ex had made you feel the last few months when you and him had sex, so being touched, cherished by Joel made your head spin. You weren’t used to it and you could feel your body reacting to the unfamiliar sensations. Joel noticed.

“Baby, you ok?”

You blushed at the nickname, smiled and nodded.

“It’s just been some time since I felt like this.”

“When’s the last time he touched you?”

“I-I mean we would have sex once or twice a week…”

“When is the last time he really touched you though. Made you feel special?”

You simply stared at him speechless and tilted your head.

“You know what, forget about him. Just focus on me. Let me make you feel good like you deserve.”

With that, he decided to be bold and reached for your mini skirt. He pulled it down past your hips and you lifted them up so he could pull it off you. He tossed it on the ground with your bra and his hands immediately moved to cup your ass. He squeezed the pillowy flesh as you moved your hips. You could feel him getting hard under you and you eagerly reached for his belt. His hands moved up to your waist, rocking you more. You undo his belt and he lifted up his hips to take off his pants. He slid them off along with his boxers, revealing his length. It was perfect. Just the right size, the mushroom tip red and swollen. Encouraged by his actions, you slide your panties off and you are both completely bare in front of each other.

He soaked the sight of your naked beauty in, eyes trailed over all your curves and edges. You were simply divine to him, a work of art. He runs his hands back up to your chest, briefly groping them, his eyes completely focused on your face. You grab his cock and began slowly stroking it. His mouth drops slightly as he watched you. He tilted his head back on the pillow briefly, before he looked back up to watch you. His breathing became ragged and you picked up your pace. You start to move on top of him, guiding his cock to your entrance, but he stops you.

“Let me get you wet.” He insisted, grabbing your hips and flipping you again. Immediately, he kissed down your body, worshiping you. “You’re so perfect. If you were my girl I’d never stop showing you how perfect you are.” He muttered in between kisses.

He kissed your inner thigh before he experimentally rubbed your clit. You gasped, your hips bucked in his face. He smirked at your reaction, loving how you responded to his touch. Taking that as a sign you wanted more, he gently kissed your slit. He gave you another one and another one until the little pecks of his lips turned into the sloppy mess of his tongue. It had been ages since a man had gone down on you like this. Your ex-never warmed you up beforehand anymore, too eager to satisfy his own desire and pleasure. Joel knew how to be a real man. His tongue and lips suck and rub at your core. He moved his head too, adding to the friction. You reached for his brown locks, desperately in need of something to hold onto. He hung onto your hips and he moved you against his face. He moaned against your core, eating you out like you were the most delicious meal of his life. He pulled back, out of breath and drunk in your juices.

“Could taste ya all day darling.”

You nodded as he inserted a finger in you, twisting it. He slowly pumped it into you, curling it up as he added another finger. He watched as your face scrunched up in pleasure. He sped his hand up, totally focused on getting you to finish.

“Joel…Joel…Joel…” you chanted “Gonna cum”

He nodded and worked you a bit more until you tightened down around his digits. You came hard, the euphoria rushed through your body like a roller coaster.

“So beautiful oh my god.” He praised, rubbing your thighs.

He crawled back up to you. He kissed you letting you taste yourself. You hadn’t felt this kind of passion in a while, this intense feeling of intimacy.

“You ready? He asked, slowly rubbing your clit again.

You nodded as he lined himself up with your slit. You felt as his cock pushed past your folds and stretched you out perfectly. You gasped and he kissed your cheek feather light. He cooed at you as he slid in, hitting the back of your cervix. You gasped, which turned into a raspy moan that floated from your lips. Joel cupped your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek. You two shared in the silence of your pleasure for a moment, taking in how good the other felt. He moved, slow at first then he sped up. He felt so full inside you, and you lost yourself in the sensation of his length. You could have stayed like that all night, the steady motion of his cock pumping into you was pure bliss.

“Does that feel good?” Joel inquired lovingly

“Yes, please Joel I want more. I need more of you.”

Per your request, he gave you more, slightly giving into his own desires to want to ravish you. But given it’s your first time with him, Joel didn’t want a sloppy, lustful encounter. Yet, he picked up his speed, his length now hitting the back of your walls at an almost brutal pace. Joel makes sure to keep checking in on you to make sure you’re okay or that it doesn’t hurt too much. You panted and panted as he continued, gripping onto his waist with your legs, pushing him deeper into you. He moved a bit more then flipped over. You smiled at him, slightly out of breath.

“I want to see that beautiful body riding me. Is that ok?”

You nod enthusiastically, slowly starting to move your hips. Joel’s hands groped your ass, rocking you on him more. He sat up, pressed his lips firmly against yours and held you tight. You started to bounce on him which elicited a guttural moan from his lips. He moved his hand to your hips, looking up at you in awe.

How could anyone not treat you like the absolute treasure you are?

Joel thought and wondered to himself as he held you. He couldn’t believe that your ex-boyfriend would neglect you. What a foolish man, but now he had you. In the exact moment he had imagined. He had you. He moved his hips in sync with yours. You steadied yourself on his shoulders, ecstasy, providing you escape. Your breath hitched as you feel his cock stiffen more inside you. He was close. You didn’t want it to end but then again you had a feeling this wouldn’t be your last encounter with Joel. A few last rocks of your hips and he was spent. He pulled you off him abruptly as he shot his load onto his stomach. You caught your breath, resting your forehead against his. You held his jaw in your hands, settling your hips.

“Joel…” you whispered, the words ghosting over your lips.

“Yes darling..” he whispered back

“Y-you have no idea how much I wanted you like this.”

“I know. Me too, but not just like this. I want you. All of you. Can I please have it?” He nearly begged

Your enthusiasm took over you and you planted a spontaneous kiss on his lips.

“Yes Joel…you can have all of me.”

꧁✩★✩꧂

480 notes · View notes

tommysversion · 16 hours

Text

Honeypot: Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Joel fucks hard. You’re a little sore. He takes the phrase “kiss it better” quite literally.

Notes: I don’t know how I got 2 fics written in 72 hours. Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s maladaptive coping mechanisms. No beta, we die like men. (As usual).

Warm sunlight streams through the bedroom window, the gap in the curtains allowing for a beam of warmth to hit the bed just so.

You wriggle under the warm sheets, rolling onto your side to bury your face in the solid wall of muscle that is Joel, inhaling the sleep sweat sex smell of him that makes you feel at home.

Really, you’re not too sure what you are. More than just friends with benefits, but not willing to put a label on it just yet. It’s a work in progress.

A big, thick arm wraps around you, tugging you closer. As you move, you wince slightly at the sudden ache between your thighs.

“You alright there, hon’?” His Southern drawl is a low, sweet sound in your sleepy ears.

“Mmhmm,” you inhale his scent again, wriggling when you feel the hot, hard length of him against your stomach. Fuck, he’s so big. No wonder you’re aching.

“You sure?” His lips brush your throat and you shiver.

“I’m a little sore,” you admit, shy in spite of everything. You’re a little worried that he’ll take offense to it, especially when you know he took such precautions to make it easier for you. He always does. Joel is so careful with you, at least when it comes to making sure you can take him.

“Aw, hell… was I too rough with you?” He pulls away from you ever so slightly, props himself up to look down at you, soft brown eyes concerned as he watches your expression.

“No!” You jump to reassure him, because god, if you hadn’t begged him for it, begged him to be rougher, to go harder, to hold you tighter. “You’re just… really big.”

You feel like an idiot for saying it, feel like an inexperienced fool, even though that isn’t the case. He just has, even though it sounds ridiculous, a huge cock.

Joel shakes his head, and even though you can tell you’ve stroked his ego with the comment, his expression remains concerned.

“Should’ve said something…”

You give him a wry, cheeky smile as he looks down at you.

“Pretty sure I did. Several somethings. And all of them were along the line of ‘give it to me harder’ and ‘don’t stop’ and begging you to fuck me.” You remind him.

Joel laughs, in spite of the pang of guilt he feels, because you’re right. All that came out of your mouth, aside from senseless moans and mewls of pleasure, were pleas for him to keep going, begging for it harder, deeper, faster. His cock twitches against his stomach at the memory.

“‘M sorry, I got carried away.” He chews his lip, caramel eyes softening with regret.

“Aw, Joel, it’s fine,” you tell him, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Besides. If you’re that worried, you can always kiss it better?”

You’re joking mostly, being facetious, because honestly it’s nothing that a couple of days without sex and a nice hot bath won’t fix, but his expression becomes almost devious as you say it.

“Kiss it better, huh?” Joel leans down to kiss you, then gently turns you onto your back, kissing down your throat, down your chest; his hands follow, sliding down your shoulders, across the curve of your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples as he kisses down your stomach, spreading your thighs and settling between them.

“I was jo- oh!” Your sentence is cut short as he nips at your inner thigh, one muscled arm flat across your abdomen as he looks up at you.

“Shh, honey. Gonna kiss it better, just like y’asked…”

Joel is goddamn dominant most of the time. Loves making you weak, loves watching you submit. Loves impact play; he fucking loves it all, but nothing turns him into a mess more than someone who lets him eat their pussy.

Keeping his arm flat across your abdomen, so your thighs are spread for him, he presses the lightest of kisses to your clit, carefully flicking his tongue out in the tiniest of kitten licks, before he groans at the sweet salty taste of you.

“Fuck, sweetest fuckin’ pussy…” he mumbles almost to himself, unconsciously rolling his hips slightly against the silky sheets, getting the tiniest bit of friction against his suddenly throbbing cock.

Fuck, you taste so good; his tongue dips inside you, making you wriggle above him. Still, he manages to hold you in place, moaning into your cunt as he licks and sucks greedily at your folds, taking his time, making sure to be careful.

You whimper, looking down at him; his deep caramel eyes look up at you, expression thoroughly pussy drunk as he nuzzles his nose against your clit. Your head drops back against the pillows, lips parted in a desperate moan.

Joel doesn’t like showing any sort of vulnerability; it’s incredibly difficult for him to try and be soft, be caring. Even though he does care, cares far more than he lets on, he’s afraid that if he shows it, it’s a weakness to be exploited.

Either way, he’ll take this moment for all it’s worth. Take the time to connect with you, to focus entirely on you. He doesn’t even seem to realise that his hips are rolling slightly against the sheets, getting a little bit of friction - not enough, not really - against the aching length of his cock.

He nuzzles your clit again, drawing a lazy circle with his nose as his tongue laps at your slick, drinking you down with zero hesitation or concern for how wet his scruffy beard is getting. All that matters is the way you writhe and moan for him, the way your hands move to tangle in his grown out curls as he keeps your thighs apart with his broad shoulders.

“Joel…”

You draw his name out in an almost loving whine as he drags his tongue lazily through your folds. He wants, so badly, to slip a finger inside you and curl it just so, knowing just the right angle to make you fall apart for him. But he doesn’t, knowing you’re still sore and aching and it most certainly wouldn’t improve the circumstances if he did.

Instead, he keeps on teasing you, sliding his tongue inside you and fucking you with it, waiting until you’re tugging lightly at his curls to withdraw it.

“Taste like honey, baby,” he groans, rolling his hips against the sheets again, feeling the way his cock drips with his own arousal, feels it hot and sticky against his belly as he suckles your clit into his mouth, barely grazing it with his teeth, making you mewl pathetically for him.

“Joel, I’m -” you can’t get the last word out, knowing he gets the point; your cunt tightens around nothing, aching to be filled in spite of still feeling the after effects of the previous night.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, just spreads your thighs wider, gently shaking his head from side to side as he eats your cunt like it’s his last meal, greedily drinking down your slick as it pours onto his eager tongue.

Fuck, he feels good, his skilled mouth sending you over the edge before you even realise it’s happening. Gasping, tugging on his curls, your filthy little moans echo off the walls as you come apart beneath his touch.

Joel groans into your fluttering cunt, feeling your walls pulsing against his tongue, tastes the sweet salty tangy taste of your release, and that’s enough to send him, too.

Before he even realises it, his cock is throbbing, aching, balls tight as he comes entirely untouched, his spend soaking the soft hair on his stomach, the linen sheets, making him groan into you before he turns his head to one side, resting on your thigh as you recover.

Chest still heaving with rapid breaths, you prop yourself up on shaky hands to look down at the sight that is Joel Miller looking up at you with a blissful, pussy drunk expression on his handsome face.

“D-did you just cum from eating me out?” You ask, voice a little hoarse from moaning for him.

Joel gives you a half shrug from his arguably extremely comfortable position.

“‘M sixty years old, darlin’, and your pussy tastes like a goddamn honey pot. Man’s gonna cum.”

You giggle and then smirk.

“Does that mean I get to kiss you better now?”

He groans, clearly appreciative of the idea.

“Fuck. Yes. But not right now, honey. Let me just enjoy this for now, hm?”

You hum your agreement, flop back against the pillows, link your fingers with Joel, and sigh in contentment as the sunlight warms your bare skin.

Yes, you think, you’ll be more than happy for Joel to take you literally any time soon.

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #my writing #my fics #Joel Miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #Joel Miller fic #the last of us hbo

349 notes · View notes

ohnoitstbskyen · 1 day

Note

Do you think Riot will make more seasons of Arcane in different regions post-s2, make more shows with different names that are set in the Arcane universe, or secret third option?

Yes and no.

To start with, yes: Arcane has been by far Riot's most mainstream successful media project ever (even outstripping K/DA), and there is literally no way in hell that the company isn't going to want to keep milking it until it is as dry, stale and withered as the PROJECT skin line.

So I predict that, absolutely, we will see new seasons of shows set in the League of Legends universe, probably animated, and hopefully with some of the extremely good animation partners Riot has managed to cultivate over the years.

The ARCANE branding is incredibly valuable now, and I wouldn't put it past Riot to do something stupid like name a show set in the Freljord ARCANE: True Ice or something unbearably stupid like that, even though the name relates extremely specifically to the setting and story of Piltover/Zaun and the Vi/Powder/Viktor/Jayce character group.

On the other hand, Riot might be the company on earth I trust the absolute least to effectively capitalize on and carry forward a success in creative arts that can't be monetized with skins and event passes.

Riot has an absolutely astounding history of tripping on their dicks when it comes to telling stories about their characters, in no small part due to its leadership quite simply never valuing storytelling as an end in itself. If it doesn't sell cosmetics or drive Engagement™ with the core League of Legends product, good luck getting Riot management to spend a fucking dime to make anything real.

Passionate people inside the company have to go to war, every single time, to make anything good happen. Legends of Bilgewater, the Spirit Blossom visual novel, the Marvel comics collaboration (RIP), Riot Forge, and very much Arcane, were absolute passion projects pushed over the line by people who literally put their jobs (and in many cases their health) on the line to make them happen.

Alex Yee and Christian Linke are old hands at Riot with a lot of clout, a lot of friends at the company, and a lot of goodwill to cash in, and if that hadn't been the case, there is literally no way in hell anything like Arcane ever gets made.

The behind-the-scenes documentary Riot themselves produced obviously goes out of its way to let Riot leadership suck themselves off about how much they contributed and how much they believed in the project, but make no mistake, they would have axed Arcane on the spot if there wasn't creatives fighting pitched battles every other day to keep it alive.

This is true of K/DA as well, by the way, there was a lot of internal resistance at Riot to that project - and to Star Guardians, and to Heartsteel. Anything cool Riot has ever made? Just assume that someone internally was shitting on it in meetings and trying to get it shut down.

Which is why I am intensely worried about Arcane in the long term. Not so much about Season 2, since it is mostly being produced by the same group of people, as far as I know, but that project is also going to be absolutely besieged by C-suite jackoffs trying to worm their names into the credits, making themselves Stakeholders™ and offering Feedback™ and voicing Concerns™, and I don't envy the showrunners the battles they are going to have to fight to keep these vultures away from the product.

But I am fucking worried about whatever Season 3 becomes. I am fucking worried about what happens the moment any of the key creatives behind the first two seasons resign, or get headhunted to new jobs. I am worried what's going to happen when Riot decides that the showrunners are "being difficult" and standing in the way of what leadership wants to do with the now very valuable ARCANE branding, and either corporately mandates them into roles of diminished influence or just outright fucking fires them (it'll be publicized as a mutual decision of course, it'll be publicized as a much celebrated retirement or "it's time to move on to new adventures").

Riot is a company with absolutely infinite capacity to fuck up a perfectly good thing for absolutely no fucking reason except some kombucha-chugging, suit-jacket-over-a-graphic-tee-and-sneakers-wearing, keeps-his-job-despite-multiple-sexual-harassment-allegations-because-he's-bros-with-the-C-suite, motherfucking "I am a player so I know what the players want" platitude-spouting "themes are for book reports"-ass Silicon Valley libertarian piece of shit decided he knows better than the artists whose work are the reason he takes home six figures a year.

#tb answers #arcane #riot games #league of legends

266 notes · View notes

paperbackribs · 1 day

Text

tags: steddie, nsfw, the homoeroticism of knowing you could treat them better

🥵🍆💦

"Okay," Robin smirks at Eddie as she pops the open button on the microwave in Steve’s kitchen, "But you understand how pathetically gay you sound right now, yes?" She pulls out a fragrant paper bag of popcorn; she says that she likes to have an extra bag before retiring after one of their movie nights.

Eddie scowls, forgetting that Steve's in the next room as he becomes revved up over a pet peeve that is less pet and more a wild animal, "It's not gay to appreciate a work of art." He gestures wildly, the lights above catch on his heavy silver rings, "It's not gay to understand that a sweet, beautiful boy is tragically unloved."

Robin snorts, pulling open the edges of the paper bag, releasing a plume of buttery steam, "No, pretty sure that's pretty gay. Next thing I know you'll declare 'no homo' while sucking his dick."

"I'd suck his dick better than Brittany or Betta or Betsy or whatever her name was," Eddie declares, sore at the memory of Steve's broken brow as he'd explained that his latest date had ridden his face and then gave him a pat on his shoulder, explaining that it was a nice time but not to expect a callback.

What an idiot, Eddie fumes to himself, neglecting to notice the shifting shadows in the hallway behind him; who doesn't enjoy a man who vehemently and vocally declares his love for going down on his partners? Eddie would kill for a partner willing to suck him dry.

Eddie may have blamed the deficiency on the female of the species, but Steve had allowed Eddie in the inner sanctum a few months ago: letting him know that it wasn’t only Robin and Eddie who were vehement friends of Dorothy, even if it was only Steve who enjoyed the full spectrum of the rainbow. And while B-whatever-her-name-was may be the source of Eddie’s ire right now, he knows that Steve has had likewise lousy luck with men whenever they’d ventured for their weekend nights out to Indy.

Each and every time Eddie had to endure Steve’s sad face a week or two later as he’d admitted that he thought his night’s partner may be up for more than just a brief bit of fun. And each and every time he’s been left dumbfounded because—

Eddie pulls at his hair, trying to work it out because—

Well. He can only imagine that every single person that’s walked away from Steve’s beautiful lips couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a fucking canon with the intelligence left over in their little pea brains. Because Steve Harrington is a goddamn catch and every one of them has let him escape their grasp.

Eddie’s too busy scowling down at his Reeboks to see Robin look over his shoulder and softly laugh. She scoops a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she swiftly leaves the kitchen, calling out, “I’m claiming the spare bedroom tonight—the one at the far end—see ya.”

Eddie looks up at the last minute, wondering at her sudden exit.

The air shifts again but Eddie doesn’t realise it until Steve’s right behind him. "Her name was Bella," Seve says in a low caress, close enough that his warm breath rustles Eddie's loose curls.

He stops, frozen, the touch of Steve's words making Eddie ache for something that he's wanted for such a very long time even as he’s unwilling to allow himself to think that Steve could mean anything by leaning in so close. But he can’t help but shiver, a tiny movement that brings his lips against Steve's sharp jaw, nearly stuttering, "Who?"

Strong arms wrap around him, bringing the broad planes of Steve’s chest against Eddie’s back, blunt fingers coming up to grip his jaw, directing Eddie’s lips to just under Steve’s.

Eddie freezes again in desperation, every single fantasy converging at once to break his brain and body while he tries to understand that the arms, hands and fingers wrapped around him are not an invention of a daydream.

"I’m saying,” Steve says patiently, eyeing Eddie with a dark gaze over his firm grip, "That I want you. Not Brittany or Betta or Betsy."

Eddie swallows around the knot in his throat.

"Just you," Steve repeats, a steady weight holding down his words that has Eddie’s gaze flying up to meet the hard pressure of hazel eyes bearing down on him. A force that has Eddie’s heart knocking heavily against his ribs, his breath shuddering against his frame, pressing taut and bullying against the thin of Eddie’s skin as he meets Steve’s expectant gaze.

And suddenly Eddie is angry.

Furious.

He’s had to endure weeks and months of listening to Steve be sad. Listening to Steve tell of glum exploits where women and men haven’t appreciated his freely-given love. Where it hadn’t mattered how quickly and devotedly Steve would put himself forward, that his partner would pat him on the back and distance him or herself after.

Eddie is furious and he glares at Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, so close to his own and suddenly wide at the clear fury in Eddie’s eyes. Steve stumbles back, “What…” But Eddie lowers himself decisively, knees falling to the ground with a clear thump and thighs spreading as he knows with a deep conviction that he’s finally interpreting Steve’s actions correctly.

He looks up with dark eyes and presses into the tentative hand that falls against Eddie’s nape; Steve’s brows pull together, doubt drawing at them, “Eddie…”

Eddie glares up at Steve with all the strength of emotion running through him like the swift currents of a river. “No Steve, that’s it. That’s fucking it.”

He determinedly wraps his fingers around the zipper of Steve’s Levi’s and, as Steve chokes out his name again, Eddie glares up at him, daring Steve to take his prize away. “No, I’m done. You’ve given me permission now. You’ve given me a sliver of hope, and you’re not fucking taking it away.”

Eddie swiftly draws down the zipper, pulling down denim and soft cotton until Steve’s already hard cock bobs in front of him and he reaches forward quickly, hand already at its base and mouth open as he’s about to swallow him down but Steve’s hand buries itself in Eddie’s curls, gripping him tight.

“Do you want me?” Steve breathes and Eddie somehow finds it in himself to glower deeper, scowling up at Steve while refusing to speak. Inching forward until the tip of Steve’s cock hovers over Eddie’s open mouth. Steve curses and a heavy pearl of fluid drops from the tip to Eddie’s outstretched tongue. Eyes closing in contentment, he hears Steve choke as Eddie almost hums around the welcome flavour.

“Right,” Steve rasps roughly before pushing forward to rest against Eddie’s lips, he traces the heavy beads from his weeping slit against the petals of his mouth, breath running ragged before pressing further.

Eddie gasps, stretching his lips wide and pushing in and forward to embrace the cock intruding his mouth. His lashes flutter as he finally has the heavy weight of Steve’s cock resting on his tongue, stretching his mouth obscenely open before peering up to check where Steve’s at.

He needn’t have worried because Steve’s own mouth is hanging open with eyes darkly trained on Eddie. “So fucking pretty,” Steve gasps, gripping Eddie’s head to pull him closer. Choking Eddie as he moans, “Yes, fucking, yes, baby. Take it.” And Eddie does. Gratefully. Happily. Fucking swallows and devours and pistons back and forward until the bitter musk dripping from Steve’s dick is greedily consumed, taken within.

Steve cries out, throbbing powerfully and pouring into Eddie. Spilling and overflowing, fucking against his face until beads flood and stream out of his mouth. Eddie lets out a long, guttural and broken sound, grateful for the blessing that Steve fills him with.

He’s so consumed with the feel of Steve in him, surrounding him, that he barely registers the hardness in his own black denim until Steve drops to his knees too, meeting Eddie face to face before falling forward, fingers working his zipper open and mouth swallowing him whole.

Eddie gasps at the sudden sensation of the hot welcoming cavern of Steve��s mouth. He bucks, lightning shooting up his spine and overwhelmed at the attention as he thrusts once, twice and another before shuddering as he releases into Steve’s warm embrace.

Gasping, Eddie’s head falls forward to stare down at Steve in wonderment. In clear awe as he stares down at the beautiful boy in his lap. Mind blissed but still a niggle worries at the back of his mind, enough to have his hand reaching forward to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek and bringing him up to meet Eddie.

“Sweetheart,” the endearment drops from Eddie’s mouth without his permission.

Steve’s lips tug up, spreading in a grin and widening his eyes, “You want me, don’t you?” He asks, almost breathless.

“Yes. Fucking yes.” Eddie has nothing but honesty to his name at this point.

Steve smiles. Smug and fucking so proud of himself. He leans forward, “Then take me,” he whispers.

And Eddie does.

❤️ More steddie here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #paperbackribs writing

237 notes · View notes

spaghettiposts · 9 hours

Text

5 times you slept in places you shouldn’t have + the 1 time Wanda dragged you with her

Wanda Maximoff x Spider!reader

Summary: You’ve always had trouble sleeping, and Wanda’s always been there to see it.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, poor readers not doing so well in the sleep department.

Word count: 10.7k (I am so sorry)

A/n: I’ve always wanted to try this troupe I’m very excited with how this turned out. Took me literal months (started in march) anyways!! Reblogs or no more Wanda 🫵 /j happy reading!!

The couch

Sleeping had never been your thing, but you could sleep through it all when it was. You were never a heavy sleeper, in fact, a light sleeper. Just the slightest of noises were enough to have your body ringing and if you refused to comply your very friendly spider-sense would have no problem in senselessly jolting you awake till you’d arrive half stumbling into a nearby crime scene.

Your spider senses only worsened to the point where sleeping was becoming harder to do and at some point you stopped trying altogether. Night after night you’d stare aimlessly at the ceiling above you, just, waiting for the prickling sensation to eat at your flesh until you couldn’t handle the needles seeping through your skin. The lack of sleep and the cruel anticipation were eating at you, and you were starting to grow desperate.

Over dinner you complained about it to Steve one Friday night when all the Avengers took time off for some one-on-one time (despite not being an official member you graciously accepted the invitation), he noticed your sluggish behavior and recommended you avoid living near the danger until you could learn to control your powers better. His reasoning being; “If you’re not near a crime scene, your senses won’t have anything to wake you for, that way you’ll receive the proper rest you require”.

The strangest part out of all of it was; his advice worked. At the compound, you slept like a baby, in your apartment in New York? Not so much. You were very appreciative of the man, and he was even kind enough to offer you a room which you accepted immediately.

One person who had been initially excited about your move-in was Wanda. You were lucky enough to consider Wanda one of your closest friends aside from Peter. She was absolutely brilliant and you both got along well. Similar to an unfinished puzzle piece she was the last puzzle you didn’t even know you were missing. She needed company, and you were glad to provide it.

You didn’t visit often, but with this newfound arrangement, you would be. Wanda didn’t know if the idea of spending more time with you or potentially sleeping one room away from you excited her more. Either way, the thought of you being a door down had her cheeks flushing and Natasha’s lips curling into a knowing smirk.

So yes, Wanda was excited about your temporary stay.

That was until she realized how annoying of a sleeper you could be. No, you didn’t snore, nor drool in your sleep.

Your problem wasn’t any of those. And honestly, Wanda wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for a late-night last-minute grocery run. Earlier that morning she had promised the team she’d cook her famous paprikash for tomorrow and had miscalculated exactly how many ingredients were in stock.

As Wanda stepped out of the elevator, she shifted her weight to better handle the bags, struggling only slightly before releasing them onto the counter with a sigh of relief. With a flick of her wrist, the lights turned on, and to her surprise; you were there too. Not in the kitchen but sprawled out on the couch where soft snores were leaving your lips.

‘Huh’

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, chuckling to herself. You looked like a starfish and your attire was… well, certainly something. You were completely knocked out beneath your Spider-Man suit and–– were those sweatpants? She guessed you must have been swinging through the city on patrol again. As for how sweatpants ended up on you, a mystery.

You still had your mask on, and before Wanda could give it much thought she was already walking in your direction, step by step, until she was kneeling beside the couch. Carefully, her fingers reached out, slowly lifting the edges of your mask. Just as she was about to peel it out, you stirred beneath her touch, causing her to still.

“Wanda?” You whispered hoarsely, elbows lifting to get a better look at your surroundings but Wanda was quick to push you back down.

“Relax, you fell asleep in your suit again.” Wanda shushed you, and you hummed, not really fighting it, settling back into the couch to give her more control. She gently pried off the rest of the mask before placing it on the coffee table.

Leaning down she ran her hand towards your hair, pushing away strands from your eye and you grumbled sleepily.

The witch chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before straightening herself up again. “There, you can sleep now.”

“You’re the best.” You mumbled as she walked away, taking a deep breath, and burying your face back into the cushions.

From the kitchen Wanda smiled fondly, a blush tinting her cheeks as she unpacked the groceries; moving quietly to not wake you. You’re all she thinks about as she organizes things, glancing in your direction every so often.

And you find yourself doing the same, seeing her in your dreams, and sleeping with an even bigger smile than before.

—

Tony’s desk

The compound is surprisingly quiet the next day, considering Tony was paying a visit Wanda would’ve assumed exactly the opposite in his company. But there were no out-of-the-ordinary noises, just the occasional banging of his hammer and welding machine.

Overall it was pretty peaceful and the weather was just beautiful, a perfect blend of sunny but not insufferably so, a sight that would go well with some lunch. Naturally, you’re the first person that comes to mind that Wanda thinks to ask.

Yet, a problem arises when Wanda can’t seem to find you anywhere. You’re not in your usual spots, including the bean bag chair in the movie room, or the outside bench next to the pond.

Noticing Wanda’s dejected demeanor, Natasha has enough of it after all the aimless pacing. The assassin suggests that you might be downstairs in Tony’s lab, and Wanda’s eyes light up the next second. A brilliant suggestion indeed, after all, he was your mentor.

Unsurprisingly, Wanda finds you exactly where Nat said you’d be. Hunched over, asleep on one of Tony’s desks, snoring ever so softly. Next to you were your web shooters—or pieces of them.

The sight would’ve normally made Wanda smile if it weren’t for your uncomfortable position. Any more time spent like that and you’d surely be retired before 40 with chronic back pain. Previously, you had told Wanda not to worry about it, mumbling on about how you spiders could sleep anywhere.

Wanda didn’t believe it for one second, knowing you immediately had to pop a few pills to relieve the pain in your spine. As much as you were a superhero, you weren’t immortal, humanity never left you—something Wanda had to remind you of whenever you pushed yourself to a certain extent.

Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, Wanda removed the gears from underneath your arms, carefully placing them aside, mindful not to ruin the process you had sorted out.

Placing the items aside, you sigh on the table, stirring softly, but you remain blissfully unaware. A gentle smile curls on Wanda’s lips as she watches you, her soft palm coming to stroke your back.

That was enough to jolt you awake, snapping up with wide eyes, and grabbing the nearest screwdriver to threaten whoever was there. Your posture was contrary to intimidating, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh, lifting her hands in mock surrender.

“Please have mercy.” She teased with a playful grin, using her finger to push back the ‘weapon’.

You blinked confusingly, glancing down at the item in your hand before chuckling. “Consider yourself lucky it wasn’t Thor’s hammer I picked up.” You quipped, placing the tool down and stretching your arms above your head.

And Wanda sighed, watching you struggle to get that knot out. Standing up from her chair she came to your aid, massaging at your shoulders and back. You sighed in relief, leaning back into her touch as she worked her magic.

She really did have magical fingers.

“You really have to stop resting in places that’ll give you backaches.” Wanda chides, hands sliding underneath your shirt for better access, sending a shiver down both of you.

“If I stop then how will I get more of those delightful massages from you?” You murmured with closed eyes, completely drunk off the feeling of Wanda’s warm hands on you. “It’s what I love most about you.”

Wanda tensed, flattening her palms on your back, before continuing with trembling fingers to not raise suspicion. “Is that all?” She retorted, voice low.

You posed a thoughtful expression, letting out a hum as you leaned back. “Also for the delectable cooking, so, two reasons.” You teased, holding up two fingers. Wanda scoffed, slapping the back of your head and removing herself the same second. You giggled mischievously, trying to get her to come back.

Swiveling your chair around, you reached out for her and effectively trapped her between your legs, and Wanda rolled her eyes, ignoring how the position made her feel things.

“So I’m just a housewife to you then?” She prodded, tilting her head in a way she knew would have you stumbling.

You shook your head, gently uncrossing her arms and taking her hands between yours.

“You’re more than that to me Wanda…” Standing up you brushed the strands of hair away from her eyes, leaning in close enough to feel Wanda’s breath hitch and you smirked; whispering.

“You're my housekeeper.”

Approximately 0.5 seconds was what it took for Wanda to gasp and shove you back towards your desk, and you let out a hearty laugh.

“See if I ever cook for you again.”

Her voice means to come out stern but you completely ignore it, thinking how adorable she looks with arms crossed and an almost annoyed pout on her face. It’s your arms that wrap around her that make her break, bringing her into a hug and making her cheeks flush again.

“I’m simply teasing witchy, you know I love you, all of you.” The words slide out easily from your lips as you lean down to press a tender kiss to her head and Wanda looks surprised, but then you quickly redirect your attention to the basket with a cheesy grin and Wanda stumbled. “Now how about we go enjoy that picnic then?”

Your steps are quick as you grab the basket, ignoring her piercing gaze.

And with how unaffectedly you move, Wanda wonders if you could possibly love her differently in the first place.

—

In a tangle of webs + Peter

Some nights were harder than others for a mind reader. It wasn’t an uncommon fate for any Avenger either, everyone had their own issues and Wanda had just been so lucky to view all of them. If she had the choice she’d never choose to see them but if Wanda had learned something from all her years; nightmares were loud.

Loud enough to startle people from their subconscious, and loud enough to provoke detailed images of their clouded lives into replaying scenes in her mind. A horror Wanda didn’t yet have the strength to ignore.

It didn’t help that most nights, they had them.

Empty walls stared back at Wanda’s dimmed green eyes. Her hands firmly wrapped around her head—in a fashion of both comfort and control, trying to ease the pulsing, luring her into a state of ease just to slip into someone’s mind again. She wanted to stop the feeling and visions but couldn’t.

After twenty more minutes of hopeless starring, the memories grew weaker.

Still, her mind remained trapped in what she had managed to see. Deciding that sleep wasn’t going to help Wanda groggily stood forward, trudging down the stairs to grab a glass of water in the common room, maybe some chamomile tea.

Part of her heart sought company, and if given the courage she’d knock on your door and ask for it. But this time, for once the universe seemed to be on her side when her eyes landed on you.

—with Peter. Laying in a tangle of limbs, and webs. Not exactly the conscious company she was hoping for…

Despite your clustered position on the floor you both seemed at peace. You were both fast asleep and for just a second her heart clenched with envy before simmering into a soft sense of affection. How was it that you could be so cute without even trying?

Slow droplets poured from the facet and into her cup as she took in the sight, forgetting why she was even there in the first place. But then her eyes wandered over to the calendar, right, Friday.

She felt silly not noticing sooner. Had she really been so caught up in her head that she didn’t notice what day it was?

The unfinished Lego Razor Crest propped on the table should have given it away.

Fridays were ‘Fundays’.

Wanda thought it was stupid, which was probably why she wasn’t invited to the events. Not that she minded, considering all you ever did was build legos with Peter and occasionally talk about girls—and why would Wanda want to hear that purposely?

She knew she had no right to feel jealous, it wasn’t wrong for you to think about other girls. But did you have to be so damn obvious about it? Your mind was a fortress when it came to penetrating your thoughts, it so rarely happened, but when it did she caught glimpses of the girl who was (annoyingly) always on your mind.

The girl with green eyes.

Too focused on figuring out who that girl was again, Wanda lost track of how much water she really needed when the cup began to overfill.

“Shit.” Wanda hissed, turning off the tap before the water could spill further. “Gross…” she grumbled, scrunching her nose as she dabbled at the wet spot on her sweater.

That was enough water for the night.

Briefly, before she leaves, Wanda considers waking you up again. Maybe coax you into a proper bed this time around, but before she can make up her mind Peter’s bursting awake, looking panicked. His widened eyes meet Wanda’s equally alarmed ones and he sucks in a breath.

“Oh, sorry… I thought…burglar.” He stammers, scratching the back of his head, albeit confused. “What time is it?”

Glancing towards the oven, Wanda squints. “Late, it’s 3 AM.” She replies and Peter grunts, mumbling about how it’s way past his bedtime.

Amid his movements to stand up, your head slips from his grasp, colliding with the foot of the table with a heavy thud and he stumbles back. Wanda gasps, shooting Peter a glare, (who doesn’t really register it in his state of distortion) before she rushes to aid you.

“What the fuck…” You mumble groggily, hissing at the stinging coming from the back of your head, slowly lifting yourself up to find a concerned Wanda helping you sit. “Wanda?” Now you were really confused but nevertheless allowed her to move you.

The room was cold, chills rushing through your body in the absence of warmth, but the soft touch of warm hands felt incredible against your skin. Not being able to help yourself you leaned into her touch, noticing the way Wanda’s breath hitched.

God, she was so cute.

Wanda swallows dryly and you think you might’ve said that out loud, judging by the way her fingers tremble and she’s turning away a blushing mess. But you don’t dwell on it as she continues to rub the back of your head to ease the pain.

“Are you okay dorogoy?” She coos and you nod wryly, her face contorting into one of mellows but neither of you says anything. Instead, you will your eyes to focus on her own, gazing into the depths of the forests that haunt your heart, and you have no clue why.

Sighing, she redirects her attention, eyes flickering between the both of you who are lost in thought. Part of her feels it’s from exhaustion but there’s something else written on your face that has her curiosity peaking.

“Why aren’t you in bed? Both of you, it’s late.” She chides gently, and you flinch.

“We got caught up with…” Peter starts to explain, motioning towards the Lego set and his demeanor avoidant. “that.”

Wanda notices his shaken tone and frowns. It’s clear she doesn’t fully believe him and she opens her mouth to indulge him further but you squeeze her hand, pursing your lips to ask her to drop it. Her brows furrow in silent question, eyes glinting with whirlwinds of misunderstanding and hurt, but you’re too tired to answer any.

Instead, you give her a reassuring smile.

Peter had a rough time yesterday, that’s all, little witch, You whisper into her mind, seeing Wanda’s eyes turn a shade of red before returning back to you, accepting the response with a hesitant nod.

“You really should get to bed Y/n…” Wanda tells you, rising to her feet and offering you her hand in the process. “You too Peter.”

Peter nodded in agreement almost instantly, not wanting to stay any longer in his state of lethargy. Wanda makes a mental note to speak to Tony about decreasing his work hours.

However, in contrast to Peter’s compliance, you deny her suggestion with a shake of your head.

“S’too far.” You mutter under your breath, tugging webs to the corners of each room to create a hammock so naturally as if you had done it a thousand times. Which you probably have.

For a moment Wanda looked amazed, marveling at your abilities to manipulate and create whatever you needed with just webbed fluids. But then you were snoring soundly on the makeshift bed—hammock—oblivious to the concerns you had stirred up and Wanda realized that wasn’t the point.

When she turned to Peter for help, the younger boy scratched the back of his head nervously, shrugging his shoulders and giving an apologetic look.

Seeing as there was nothing else she could do, nor did she wish to wake you again for the second time tonight, a sigh escaped Wanda’s lips. Red tendrils wrapped around a blanket, pulling it closer until it encompassed your body completely. She felt the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, but with Peter in the room, she held back to avoid any awkwardness

Your lips curled into a soft smile, and Wanda returned it before turning on her heels to guide the other spider into bed.

At least this one listens. The thought came bitterly, causing Wanda to grimace.

“I honestly don’t understand why she keeps doing this when she has a perfectly good mattress.” Wanda sighs deeply, her voice laced with exhaustion as she walks up the steps.

Peter blinks, giving another helpless shrug, gripping onto the rail for dear life. “I think it’s just a spider thing, sleep is anywhere you make it.”

“But you sleep in your bed every night.” She points out, shivering at the sudden temperature.

The air is turning colder and Wanda wonders if the singular blanket she gave you would be enough. She’s tugging at her sleeves when Peter interrupts her thoughts.

“That is true…” A yawn cut through the younger boy's speech as he approached his door, looking dangerously close to passing out. “But I don't have problems with sleeping alone.”

Wanda furrows her brows as the words register. Alone? You can’t sleep because you feel alone? But before she could pry further Peter was leaning against the wooden frame, fast asleep. And Wanda didn’t have it in her to ask anymore.

Once she had successfully tucked in Peter, she closed the door gently, never once did you leave her mind. Leaning against the door, Wanda tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, her mind caught in thought but one remained a constant.

Spiders really can sleep anywhere.

—

Staircases

Tired was an understatement, Wanda was spent. Completely and utterly exasperated by your behavior. There was an outstanding record for the amounts of migraines you’ve given her this month, knocking Pietro off the scoreboard by two.

She was starting to feel annoyed and rightfully so as she stared at the crowd with a sour expression on her face. For the fourth time in a month, you were nowhere to be found and it was your party.

Before Christmas, it was a tradition in the compound to throw a Gala in honor of the friendly neighborhood spiders who had worked overtime to keep New Yorkers safe for the holidays and throughout the year.

More so an excuse for Tony to itch that insatiable party nerve of his before the big Christmas one.

Of course, this gala was no exception to a roaring crowd. The dance floor was packed with sweaty people grinding on one another and Wanda swears she could see even Bruce getting into the groove of it. At the bar, only Natasha remained with a couple of straying men. So where were you?

A completely plastered Tony walked past the witch, stumbling as he did so and fiddling with his pants. Immediately Wanda grasped on his suit before he could get too far, enticing a yelp when she tugged the man to a secluded corner.

“Tony, where's Y/n?” Wanda asked through gritted teeth. She didn’t know why—call it intuition—but for some reason, she felt your disappearance had something to do with him.

Tony scrunched his face, glancing over her shoulder with urgency and shouting back louder. “Where’s the restroom? That’s what I’m trying to figure out Maximoff, I’m pissing myself here!”

“Y/n, Tony, Y/n.” Wanda says exasperatedly.

Tony's mouth forms an ‘oh’ as the realization dawns on him before he’s giggling like a schoolgirl which only heightens Wanda’s worries.

“Ah, Y/n, funny story actually—”

It was not a funny story, and hearing the end of it had Wanda feeling even more upset and aggravated at the man.

She didn’t know whether to be more angry at the fact you “consented” to that stupid dare in the first place or Tony coming up with the bright idea to launch you midair while intoxicated in his death trap tin suit.

Which is how Wanda found you, through Tony’s utter stupidity and your sleepiness. Much to her relief, you weren’t dangling from a ledge or on top of the Empire State Building; instead, cozied up on the staircase with a beer bottle in hand threatening to fall off at any given moment. Tony’s red helmet sat snuggly on your head, leaning against the wall.

Wanda huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes and approaching swiftly to wake you. Her hand collided with the back of your neck, sparing you absolutely no mercy as you sputtered awake.

“Ouch,” You groaned, blinking dazedly beneath the helmet as all your senses came back to you, along with a searing headache.

You grimaced at the sight of the bottle in your hand, setting it aside as if it could burn you with one single touch.

That explains the headache.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” Came that voice you knew all too well. You swore you could feel the hairs on your body standing as you slowly turned to see, shivering at the goosebumps, and being met with the sight of a very displeased Wanda.

Her arms folded against her chest, head tilted at just the right angle to make you scared shitless. Still, the slight furrow to her brows and teary glimmer in her eyes had you thinking she wasn’t entirely angry, just, upset—sad.

And maybe if your mind wasn’t so foggy, you would’ve taken it into account, and taken her into your arms.

“Wanda…?” You murmured, attempting to feign innocence as if she wasn’t glaring daggers into your skull. “Oh! Wanda!” You exclaimed, mustering a very nervous chuckle.

As if the helmet could sense your distress it decided that opening would be the best option and smiled sheepishly. Wanda raised an unimpressed brow, green darkened eyes digging into your soul and you sighed in defeat. Not exactly the happy welcome you expected.

Worth a shot.

“Don’t ‘Oh Wanda’ me! Seriously? Sleeping at a Gala!?” She hissed, and you stiffened, feeling the need to back up. “And on the stairs of all places, do you know how much of a hazard that is?”

You scoffed disbelievingly, feeling the need to defend yourself. “Come on Wanda, we both know Tony’s parties—“ You cut off your speech, putting your fingers up in quotation marks to quote her. “Sorry, ‘Galas’ are anything but formal.”

Then you’re pointing at the rousing crowd above you who you can hear yelling through muffled walls ‘Chug! Chug! Chug!’ and give Wanda a pointed look, who then rolls her eyes again.

“That’s not the point Y/n. It’s your party.”

It’s Wanda’s diminished expression that has you sobering up instantly. Her tightened eyes stared back at your own, and you hated the guilt tugging at your chest. In the worst of states, you wouldn’t want her looking at you like that, not when you’ve seen her look at you better. It was selfish, but was it? To wish to see her smile again? You didn’t know, but it was worth more than whatever goddamn party—gala they threw at you.

With a new mindset in mind, believing you’d have more fun with Wanda than without, you dusted yourself off, properly taking the helmet off this time. You carried it under one arm and offered the other. Wanda looked at you quizzically at the sudden change but you didn’t let that faze you, taking the initiative to wrap your arm around her own.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you just wanted to, so you did, leaning over to plant a short kiss on her cheek and Wanda lost all train of thought then and there.

“You’re right, I’m sorry–I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair and Wanda gives you a look of sympathy.

She squeezes your arm with her other hand, shaking her head. Her tone is soft as she rubs a comforting hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you Y/n…we all have our rough patches. Just, let me be there for you. You don’t have to hide away.”

You suck your teeth, the urge to disagree coming in strongly but you resign, feeling embarrassed under her gaze and your confidence ends short-lived.

Pursing your lips, your eyes drift downwards to your arms, not really sure what to do next. Noticing your struggle, Wanda takes pity on you and decides to drop the subject for another day, softly tugging on your forearm as she speaks.

“Let’s dance?”

“Yes please.” You groan, barely finishing your sentence before Wanda leads you up the stairs and you almost stumble. Grumbling to yourself as you straighten up, you level Wanda a look in caution. “Just be warned, I can’t really tell the difference between my left and right foot right now.”

“It’s okay, you were never much of a good dancer anyway.” She hums teasingly, failing miserably at hiding her smirk.

You let out a gasp, feigning mock offense as you raise a hand to your heart, wounded. “Geez Maximoff, you know, typically you’re supposed to woo your dancing partner, not crush their hopes and spirits.”

The witch scoffs, rolling her eyes. Once you’re off the stairs and stable enough, she makes no point in waiting for you or giving you any answer as she walks through the bustling crowd and you quickly rush to catch up with her.

“Wow! And now you’re ignoring me!” You yell over the noise, a pout adorned on your lips. “And leaving me?! Wanda I must say, I’m not quite enjoying these new colors on you. What happened to manners–?”

You’re cut off abruptly by a sudden tug to your arm by Wanda, who’s pulling you to the side and you grin. She has two cups of what you assume is tropical punch in her hand and hands one to you. Lowering your nose, you smell the drink to check if it’s spiked. Wanda gives you an unimpressed look, and you think she looks hot when she’s annoyed with you.

Suddenly she’s slapping your shoulder with a burning pink tint on her cheeks, completely exasperated as she replies “My god, do you have an off switch?”

You shine a toothy smile, leaning against the wall for support as you bring the cup to your lips, a familiar mischievous glint in your eyes that has Wanda regretting saying anything.

You cautiously lean into the space, whispering for only her to hear, “No, but I do have a couple of ideas on how to keep me quiet.”

To say it comes out more suggestive than you intended was an understatement. But Wanda doesn’t let that deter her, doubling down.

“Oh really?” Her head tilts, quirking an amused brow and you clear your throat to regain yourself.

The air becomes a little thicker than before and no amount of alcohol can save you from the blood pounding in your ears. The space between you has become thinner to the point where you can feel her breath on your lips and you pretend the close proximity holds no effect on you but your trembling fingers say otherwise.

“Mhm, two words,” You murmur affectedly, and Wanda swallows. Your mind is clouded by all that is her so you speak slowly, feeling your throat dry. “Duck Tape.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna throw you out of the building.” Wanda huffs as you snicker, crossing her arms as she tries to fix her hair.

Unable to help it, you tentatively reach your hand out, waiting for Wanda to pull away. When she makes no move, you carefully brush the strands away from her face, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver down her spine.

Pulling away, you meet her hazy gaze and you swallow wryly, trembling. Giving her a lopsided grin as you stumble back, equally as affected. You really have to stop doing that.

“Jokes on you, I’ve already done that tonight.” Comes your attempt to clear the air, resulting in another cross expression from the witch and you smile sheepishly.

“Y/n.”

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you nod. You raise a finger as you take one last sip from your cup, placing it on the table as you grab her hand again. “Right, sorry, dancing.”

Dragging her towards the dance floor, you spared one last look. This time finding pure adoration shining through her features as she stared at you almost…lovingly before she rolled her eyes. A look you preferred to see instead. Even if it had your brain short-circuiting.

A look that thankfully carried on when she found you half crashed into the Christmas tree after Tony had asked you to put up decorations, almost fast asleep.

“You’re an idiot.” Wanda sighed with a slight curl to her lips and you took that as a silent victory. She shook her head as she carried you down the hallway with her magic.

“Yeah, I know…” You mumbled, still grinning which was quickly wiped as she let go of the magic carrying you. “Hey!”

Wanda squeaks as you reach out to grab her, running away the next second and you quickly follow with the promise that you’ll catch her, laughter echoing through the corridors as you chase each other.

—

Pillow Forts

Construction wasn’t exactly your forte unless it involved miniature bricks with instruction manuals. Aside from that, it was very obvious that Peter was the more resourceful spider as Steve liked to put it. You knew the man meant well when he said it and your ego completely shattered but despite the mental bruise, you never made a move to practice.

It wasn’t like stopping trains or stringing a boat back together required much engineering when you had webs stickier than epoxy.

And now, veins popping, sunk to your knees, you deeply regretted that decision. You wanted to strangle Peter, you envied his master builder abilities. The jumble of pillows on the floor mocking you with a stare that you could only describe as insulting if pillows could…stare.

It was pathetic really, no, extremely pathetic and sad. Who has trouble building a pillow fort?! What was supposed to be a simple project, was the newfound bane of your existence. No matter how you positioned them, they tumbled. Limiting yourself to building by web fluid was becoming a choice to regret too. It made sense, every superhero grows dependent on their powers, it’s only natural, but this time you were determined to build something without your abilities.

Glancing over at the clock, it read a little past nine—bordering on lines of ten- you bit the inside of your cheek, figuring you probably had a couple of minutes before Wanda’s arrival.

Huffing, you returned your attention to the pillows and took them in your arms once more. This time with determination in your eyes and the thought of who you were building this for, remnant in your head and heart.

As you stood back to admire your finished work, you surprised yourself. It wasn’t perfect and some pillows were more crooked than others but it was comfortable. Just as you had envisioned—from Pinterest boards.

It almost looked just as good as the ones Wanda had built for you after long missions and you wished you had spent less time staring at her and more time focusing on how she was arranging the blankets.

But the fortress only became better when you clicked on the tiny remote, turning on the fairy lights that hugged the curves of the pillows, bringing it all together in a bright vibrant glow and you smiled to yourself as the lights glimmered, imagining how happy Wanda would be.

Your eyes returned to the clock and immediately widened next. “Shit!” You gasped, rushing upstairs to pick out the main attraction, silently scolding yourself for forgetting in the first place; Sitcoms.

You grumbled to yourself as you dug through the drawer at the multitudes of never-ending options. Wanda had always preferred to watch sitcoms on a VHS tape, although the compound had access to all streaming services she claimed it didn’t feel the same. Truth be told, you didn’t understand why they were in your room in the first place but you assumed it had to do with the fact that Wanda always left them, tucked neatly in her nightstand before she curled underneath the covers with you.

You paused.

Her nightstand?

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked across the room, realizing that there were a lot of things she left behind. Ranging from articles of clothing to a spare toothbrush in your bedroom and since when did you get decorative pillows? And why were there so many?

You shrugged the thought off, assuming she was just really forgetful, besides it wasn’t like you were usually sleeping here anyway. You continued to dig through the classics until your eyes landed on the familiar I Love Lucy cover.

Bingo

Smiling to yourself, you walked downstairs with the tape pocketed. Now you just had to be patient and wait a few until Wanda arrived from the hanger—

“Y/n?” Your heart startles and you're clutching your chest, turning to scold whoever scared you before the words die in your throat as you take in her appearance.

You suck in a deep breath because you feel as if all the air in your lungs has been taken.

She was breathtaking without even trying. Wet strands of hair clung to her face as she stared at you incredulously, eyes flickering between you and the fortress. Clad in nothing but a loose graphic t-shirt (that you briefly recognized as your own), and shorts that were making you dizzy.

You cursed yourself mentally, shaking yourself out of any inappropriate thoughts. She’s your best friend for God's sake!

“Surprise?” That is what you say with a weak smile and a much higher pitch than intended. Keep it subtle. Things weren’t going entirely as planned, however, you could improvise.

Wanda stares back amused, an unfamiliar glint in her eyes pooling, taking a step closer until her hand is dragging against your forearm. “Dorogoy, what’s all this?”

“I built it for us, I figured maybe you’d like to unwind…I know you had it pretty hard today and you’ve looked stressed all week.” You mumbled meekly, shifting against her touch. Pull it together man.

“Really?” She picked up her head, looking at you adoringly–that you missed from the bundle of nerves wracking at your mind, mistaking the look for one of contempt.

But you pushed forward, believing it was a nice gesture. And even though all the logical parts of your brain tell you not to, you slowly untangle yourself from the witch anyway, missing the hurt that crosses her expression.

You didn’t know why you were so nervous today.

“Yeah, I picked out your favorite too.” You say half breathlessly, reaching for the tape in your pocket to show her. “Snacks and sitcoms, and more if you need anything. I’ve just gotta set up the TV before this and all since you came back a little earlier than I expected.”

During your rant, you walked towards the television to find the player. Fiddling with it to distract yourself from the rising goosebumps picking at your body, but Wanda didn’t need to know that. With your back turned you failed to notice the scene unfolding behind you. Her eyes were slightly watered and she lingered by your side. Part of her, hesitant to reach out so instead she let them fall to her side, fiddling with her sleeves in a manner of comfort.

Rummaging through the cabinets you exclaimed as you found it, turning forward with the device held to your chest, completely oblivious of the inner turmoil you’ve caused inside the other girl.

“Maybe even grab some popcorn unless you’d prefer chips? Seriously Wanda, whatever you want, I just want you to feel better—”

“Y/n?” She cuts in.

“Yeah?”

“Hug me, please?” She whispers, her voice cracking with desperation, her eyes unable to meet yours, ashamed of the vulnerability, and waves of regret crawl over you for letting go of her in the first place. “I’m sorry, I just really missed you and things went pretty badly- I just–”

It’s you who cuts her off next, pulling her into your embrace, feeling her tremble against you. Wanda chokes back a sob, and tears blur your vision as you hold her tightly.

You whisper words of comfort, murmuring, ‘I know, it’s okay, I know.’, while cradling her head against your chest. Despite being only slightly taller than her, you fit together perfectly, and you rest your head atop her chin. She exhales softly, her breath hitching with each shudder as she inhales your scent. Her arms move from your chest to return the embrace, burrowing herself into your chest and clinging to you as if you’d vanish again.

After a few moments, Wanda’s breathing begins to even, but she shows no signs of releasing you anytime soon. You gently squeeze her waist, hoping to draw her attention. Pressing a kiss to her hair, murmuring softly as you ask:

“Is…Is there anything else you need?”

Sighing, Wanda shakes her head, nuzzling further into you. “Just you, I don’t need anything else.”

“Okay.” You mumble into her hair, your fingers tracing gentle patterns across her back. For a moment, you stand there, bodies swaying softly as you hold each other. Selfishly allowing yourself to soak in the feeling of having her so close to you. “But if you even dare to grab my Cool Ranch Doritos just know I told you—”

Wanda groans, and you stifle your laughter when her hand playfully smacks your shoulder. You can almost feel her eyes rolling.

“Shut up, I don’t even like those.”

“Yeah right! I can still see the crumbs on your chin from last time!” You laugh in disbelief and Wanda pulls back gaping, completely affronted.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many! It was a party-sized bag—that I was planning on saving by the way, and you finished it!”

“Oh my god, just get in the fort before I change my mind and leave.”

It doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you in the fort when soft hands lace into your own, dragging you inside. You’re more than willing to follow her anywhere.

She’s quick to push you into the pile of pillows, laughing when you squeal from the sudden impact. Shuffling underneath your arm and making herself comfortable against you, she turns to look up at you with a smile and you quickly turn into a flustered mess. With how she’s looking at you, you can’t help but feel that she’s doing it on purpose.

Using her magic Wanda’s able to connect the TV from your position, not once disconnecting your bodies. She smiles in success when it works, sinking further into the comforting atmosphere as the show plays softly in the background.

As the lights glimmer between your bodies, Wanda finds herself more captivated by you than the show itself. How could she not? After you’ve devoted so much of your time just to make her smile. A pang of gratitude hits Wanda’s heart, mingling with a feeling she knows all too well—a feeling she had tried to pass off as something smaller than love. But the more she spent with you, the more she realized it was pointless to deny.

Part of her hoped you’d choose to stay, to stay with her, because she isn’t sure how she’d be without you.

Wanda knew she was letting it get into her head—but then you look at her, tenderly, as if she was the only girl in the world and fantasies resurfaced along with uncontrollable feelings that felt stronger than herself. Fantasies of one day being together, like this forever. Not just one singular moment but for the rest of your lives.

The feeling of your body vibrating with laughter quickly snaps her out of her senses and she turns to look at the screen where a joke plays out. And god is that feeling one of her favorites. What drives her crazy is how you don’t seem to even notice how affected you make her. The way your hands would gradually grow bolder, slowly slipping past the hem of her shirt and grazing the skin underneath, leaving a trail of goosebumps in your wake. And how, whether consciously or not, you’d tighten your grip around her, pulling her in closer in a possessively deliberate way that had her biting her lip.

Was it really selfish to want more?

The thought swirled in Wanda’s mind heavily, but unbeknownst to her, it was in yours too.

Wanda yearned for more than fleeting touches that led to nowhere. She craved more than unspoken vows you carried in silence, being too afraid to say anything, mortified by the thought of ruining what you had—unknowingly missing how you could have better.

Wanda Maximoff wanted to be yours.

The thought awoke her with a slight jolt and it had taken her a second to comprehend that she was asleep, the TV long since turned off then. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she recalled her vivid imaginations, realizing what had been originally just a second of resting her eyes had resulted in a 3-hour nap.

But with the thoughts still fresh in her mind, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care. She was on a mission.

“Y/n?” Her voice calls out slightly hoarse, breaking the silence. But the silence remains unbroken and Wanda frowns, removing her head from your shoulder to look at you.

You’re sound asleep next to her, a faint trail of drool lining your lips. Bags are evident below your eyelids, and Wanda lets out a small ‘oh’. You had fallen asleep too.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Wanda shook her head softly, an amused smile playing on her lips as she admired you. Deciding that confessions could wait for another time, she leaned back and tugged a blanket forward, encasing you both again into that warm atmosphere.

Recalling words you had said before: “A little back pain is worth the sleep”. She couldn’t help but agree more when it was next to you.

—

Together

There were two things you loved more than being Spider-Man in the world.

Lightsabers, and maybe potentially Wanda.

The latter being much more intimate than the first but you get the jist. The point was, that you liked Wanda. You were sure of it, with everything in your mind, body, and soul.

So, why were you avoiding her?

Cowardice.

Weeks had passed since that night. You still vividly remember the feeling of waking up to Wanda’s sleeping form, resting comfortably on top of you. After all, it was the best sleep you’ve had in a while.

The sight had initially startled you, but what scared you most was the normalcy of it all. The domesticity, how bright Wanda’s eyes shone in the daylight, looking at you as if you were a treasure from the depths of Atlantis. How eager she was to make you breakfast and how her touch never left yours throughout the process.

Miles away in New York, you could still feel her.

“Chocolate or blueberry?” Wanda asked, tilting her head to the side to look at you.

The familiar scent of pancakes wafted through the air and you knew it was only a matter of seconds before the team came to steal them all.

Your hold remained firm on her waist as you hugged her from behind, swaying softly to the tunes of nothing. Not wanting the moment to end just yet, you remained silent, allowing yourself to bask in the peace. But Wanda had other plans, quickly squeezing at your arm to grab your attention and you rolled your eyes, amused by her impatience.

Posing a thoughtful expression, you eyed the batter before turning to the basket of blueberries. They looked fresh, not too ripe to be sour, and not too soft to be soggy.

“Hmmm, how good are the blueberries?”

Wanda shrugged absentmindedly, whisking at the batter as she leaned back into you, stealing whatever warmth she could. “Pretty good, I grew them myself.”

The mental image of Wanda in her gardening gear made you smile a little more than expected, and you hid into her shoulder, inhaling her scent. Absolutely hooked.

“Did you?” You reply, watching as Wanda nods her head shyly and you chuckle. Unintentionally dragging your lips across her cheek as you press delicate kisses to her skin, murmuring softly in her ear, “What a talented little witch.”

Wanda laughs, blushing as she attempts to shrug you away, not really understanding why you’re being so touchy but not opposed to it either. “Stop it.”

Your lips tug into a lazy grin as you laugh with her, avoiding her attacks and keeping your grip firm. “It’s true Wands…you’re great at everything really. Never once have you failed to amaze me—“

“Here, try this.” That is all she says before shoving multiple berries into your mouth, distracting you before you can pay too much attention to her flustered state.

You gasp at the sudden impact but graciously accept the blueberries into your mouth, playfully glaring at her as you chew. Her nose scrunches adorably, turning in your arms to watch you eat them, her face lighting up and offering you some more.

Though, when you lift your hand to take them, she swats it away. Cupping your cheeks in her hands, softly stroking at your face with her thumbs, you rolled your eyes. Complying with rosy cheeks as she fed them to you.

As you held her, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, wrapped in a safe haven you’ve created. This moment was everything—a fragile glimpse into a future you desperately wanted but were too afraid to reach for.

Although neither of you seemed too keen on parting, Wanda’s hands were preoccupied with the feel of your skin underneath her own, repeating senseless patterns. That is until the oven goes off with a loud bang and you both break away bashfully.

Before you can make a move, Wanda lets out a deep breath. Hands gently smoothing over your shirt, her touch lingering with tender care. She pats your chest softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.

“Blueberries it is.”

You run a hand over your face as the memory washes over you, letting out a shaky breath. It shouldn’t affect you this much, and you didn’t want to read into it because that would require acceptance.

The risk of ruining something you held so dearly hurts you more than the silence you keep. Heroes aren’t supposed to be afraid, and yet it’s all you felt in your heart at the thought of losing her. But your heart ached for more, just even the slightest glimpse into what could be. And when you closed your eyes, you could almost see it. An alluring figure stringing you along, captivating you with their lush green eyes, promising you that they’d be yours forever.

But those were dreams, not real life.

A real-life you wanted with Wanda.

You slowly sink into your thoughts, your mind both your stronghold and a labyrinth of sorrow. As you wipe the tears that blur your vision, you gaze down at the streets of New York. Despite the hour, the city remained wide awake. Citizens walked with pure radiance of confidence, towering buildings seeming so distant and away from where you sat. Did they know? Did anyone know that one of their beloved Spider-mans was capable of turning a mess so easily?

The weight of it all feels suffocating and no amount of air can prevent the tightness that clogs at your throat, heavy breaths leaving your body as you recount your errors. You were raised to believe that love was this grand, amazing thing. But now you want to scoff at everyone who fed into your hopelessness, fed into those lies. If love was so wonderful, then how come it hurt so much?

But then, without warning your senses are ringing, and your eyes widen as a figure lands in your space with a slight stumble. The clouds of smoke that surround them make it hard for you to tell who it is and you raise your hand, ready to attack.

And then, recognition dawns on you as the smoke settles. Your body easily relaxes and loosens the grip on your strayed mask next to you. With a trembling exhale, you lower your hand to take a moment to breathe, drawing in a deep calming breath and your lungs silently thank you.

“Hey, kid.” Tony greets, exiting his suit with a lopsided smile. One that doesn’t quite meet his eyes but you know better than to pry.

“Tony?” You furrow your brows, wanting to ask why he’s here but the bag in his hands tells you all you need to know. “Another late-night donut run?”

“Pepper thinks I should lay off the suits for a while.” He explains with a sigh, grunting as he sits down next to you, rattling the bag in his hands for emphasis. “And donuts are the only thing that both keep me busy and fulfilled. Win-win don’t you think?”

“Depends on what type of donuts you picked.” You mused with a hum.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Long John.” He retorts with a smirk, reaching into his bag to place a donut in your hands. Patting your shoulder as he did so. “Here, for your troubles.”

You cocked your head curiously, examining the sweet with a soft smile. “A maple bar, sweet.”

Thanking him, you took slow soft bites, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth as you looked towards the city in thought. You felt Tony’s stare and tried your best to ignore it, not wanting pity.

“In my entire years of living, not once have I ever seen someone looking so sad while holding a donut.” He commented, taking a bite of his own donut and you release a sigh. “It’s really depressing to look at.”

He spoke between bites, causing you to grimace. Backing away, you studied your mentor incredulously, analyzing his facial features in the hope it’d give you a clue as to why exactly he was here. Finding nothing, but an unusual softness to his features, you raised a wary brow.

“Did you come all this way just to patronize me, Stark?” You sneered with a glare. Feeling like the donut was really just bait to lure you into a conversation.

Which you had admittedly been postponing from both Steve and him, using the city as an excuse to step away from your problems. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with you again.

And here he was, the tightness behind his eyes diminishing as he stared at you, carefully, with laces of soft affection instead. You weren’t sure if you liked this look.

“A little birdie—or should I say spider, told me about your troubles with our resident Maximoff and I figured it’s time you got advice from the love doctor.” His hand came to his chest, motioning to himself and you scoffed in disbelief before turning into one of disgust. “And listen, I love Pietro, but I really don’t think—“

“Pietro?! Ew, god, no.” You say hurriedly, eager to dispel those rumors. Your distaste quickly turns into irritation as you realize with an offended gasp. “Is Peter seriously going around and spreading this?! Tony what the fuck.”

“Right, witchy then.” He sucks his teeth, waving a finger your way and you shove at his shoulders with embarrassment. Not letting that deter him, he scratches his chin, posing a thoughtful expression as he begins, “Love is scary, isn’t it? You’re scared. Scared of messing things up, scared of hurting her, losing her—“

“This is really inspiring Tony.”

“Pipe down Pipsqueak I’m not finished,” He huffed, clearing his throat before returning to his speech. “The point in all this is that you’re afraid. And that’s okay, so long as you don’t let those fears hold you back. Hell I’m still scared Pepper will leave me for someone more sensible, someone who won’t constantly be putting her in danger.”

His admission doesn’t come easy, and you notice the frown and crease in his eyebrows as he says so. Releasing another breath, you think about his words, and how fear could hold someone back. Reflecting on the past days, all you notice is clear examples of how it’s done this, stopping you from chasing what you really want. Still, you shake your head, voice cracking as you admit:

“I just don't want her to get hurt, or get hurt.“

Tony blinks, looking at you with an emotion you don’t know. But in his eyes, he sees himself, speaking gently, “You’ll never know if you don’t try, Y/n.”

“Think about it.” Comes the last thing he’s to say as he stands up with a grunt. Hands dusting himself off and bending over to grab his bag, pointing to you with a reassuring grin.

The words swirl around your head like a roundabout, leading to only one conclusion and you know what you have to do. Face those fears, even if the words get stuck in your throat. Before Tony can get too far, you stand up, stammering on your words as you thank him.

Tony nods inside his suit, propelling himself as he speaks. “Anytime, stay in school, and help Peter with his history homework will you?”

You shake your head, chuckling softly and Tony ruffles your hair, flying off with a booming “Ciao!” Leaving you alone to collect yourself, bidding him goodbye.

Placing the last bit of the donut in your mouth, you slip on your mask. Launching yourself through the city to reach your destination, flying past buildings and deep into the wooded suburbs where you’d find the compound.

There wasn’t a world in which you could successfully avoid Wanda, not forever at least. It was torture for yourself too these past few days, and you’d be dammed if you did it again.

As you reached the vicinity, fear washed over you again, your heart beating rapidly the closer you approached. Tony’s words rang in your mind and you huffed, ignoring whatever your senses were telling you and letting your emotions speak louder.

Rest could wait until later, for now, you had a witch to confront—confess to.

You decided to take the easier route, being her window as you had down many nights prior. As you swung towards the wall, you found yourself stuck. Hanging from the rooftop, hand frozen midair as you stared at your reflection, was this really a good idea? In the middle of the night?

It was a tranquil, beautiful night, with fresh air flowing through the trees, and the only source of light being the soft glow of the moon. Your eyes softly traced through the beauty of nature, losing yourself in the picturesque landscape. Perfect conditions for an Avenger to catch some sleep in and you quickly found yourself double thinking by her window. Anxiety crawls through you—what if she was asleep already and didn’t wanna see you? Surely you shouldn’t interfere with Wanda’s beauty sleep. Or should you—?

“Did you really come all this way to see me just to hang outside of my window like a creep?” Your heart startled at the sudden voice and you didn’t even notice when Wanda had opened the window but there she was, a crooked smile on her lips with a curious tilt to her head.

The moonlight only enhanced Wanda's beauty further, and you knew you were staring. But you couldn’t tear your gaze away, mesmerized, counting every freckle you could spot; dreaming of one day kissing each speck you could find.

You wondered if women like Wanda inspired philosophers to write the most beautiful sayings because you’re certain if you had the intelligence you’d do the same. It’s only when Wanda cleared her throat, a small blush tinting her cheeks, that you turned away.

You sighed to try and collect yourself, letting your previous anxieties disappear. “Well, you know how much I love hanging out with you.” You joked, grinning at the groan Wanda let out as she shook her head disapprovingly.

“Dork.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“Most definitely.” She says before moving closer, touching the ridges of your mask, and your heart races when she pulls it down just the slightest. You lean eagerly against her palm without a second thought, savoring her touch. It feels as if time freezes, and you realize how intensely you’ve missed Wanda these past days.

You think Wanda feels the same with how she looks at you, hand tracing the small scar etched into your chin with a frown. Her hand shutters a bright red and you lean into it like second nature, knowing what she seeks; to feel you. Something that came often after missions back home, a reminder that you were still here, but as you opened your eyes to stare back into her own, it felt different. Dangerously close to intimate and emotions build against your throat, constricting you because you can’t handle how close you are. How close you could be to changing things. Your defenses fly up again and you’re inching away despite not being able to get far with Wanda keeping you still–so you rack your brain, trying to find something to say to ease the tension—deflect, maybe a joke?

But any witty retort you had is quickly forgotten as Wanda hesitantly leans closer, testing the waters, and freezing you on the spot. You’re sure Wanda can hear your heart racing, but she doesn’t seem to care. It’s only when you make no motion of moving that she brings your mouths together. And you think you’ve just taken a glimpse into heaven.

It's just as sweet as you imagined and more. Her lips are soft and sweet and welcoming, easily enveloping you in all that is her, something you fall into hopelessly yet again. You want to ask why she chose now to do this, but you don’t want to part. The position is less than ideal, and sure your neck is straining but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Wanda’s the first to pull away, equally taken by surprise by her actions, a deep flush taking her the next second with a small shy smile and you feel yourself swoon.

You hesitate as you try to speak again, find the proper words to say but Wanda stops you, taking off your mask properly and lifting herself off the frame, walking back into her room. She throws your mask aimlessly away behind her desk but you’re not paying too much attention to it.

“Why don’t you come inside for once? Catch some real sleep, on a real bed.” She suggests invitingly, throwing you a playful look over her shoulder. You let out a breathless chuckle, flipping yourself over to enter her window, and closing it behind you in one smooth motion.

Wanda doesn’t say much else as you help her un-tuck the sheets, shooting you an appreciative glance and you pause, realizing it is her from your dreams. She’s the girl. The girl you can’t escape at night. It baffles you how you didn’t see her sooner. And suddenly you understand.

You understand why you’re always thinking of her, why even in your sleep you don’t wish to leave. It’s not just some crush you’ve been harboring, no, it’s something more intimate. And you want to say it’s love, but you want to say it better. Not when you’re both so absorbed in the moment, so you wait, because for Wanda Maximoff you’d wait for any length.

“I do sleep.” You spoke softly, ignoring how nervous her stare was making you and the stare made you believe that she already knew. You sucked in a breath, knowing if you didn’t say it now you wouldn’t say it ever, “I’d just sleep better with you.”

Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise before softening in a way that made your resolve crumble and you looked away with a clumsy smile. It feels like a silly confession to make, but unbeknownst to you, it’s enough confirmation for Wanda.

Shuffling into the sheets, you turn to meet Wanda only for her to advance on you the next second into a much more tender kiss than before. It’s soft and a reassurance that she feels the same way, her lips tasting of strawberries and love. You melt into the kiss once again, placing your hand on her wrist that holds your face in place, deepening it to convey.

“I’ll keep you to that,” Wanda murmurs between kisses, placing one last peck on your lips before curling in closer to your body, hiding in the crook of your neck. You chuckle and wrap your arms around her.

Her presence enveloped you instantaneously, reducing every muscle in your body into mush; a wave of relief washed over you, almost in disbelief that this was real. It was almost overwhelming, how easily you found peace in her arms. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you realized that this simple moment was all you had ever wanted–a night of rest with the girl you cared for most, free from all the world's problems and whatever else dared to ruin you.

As if she could sense something was wrong, the witch shuffled closer, her lips tenderly grazing against the skin of your neck and you tensed as she pressed. Her lips lingered against your skin, repeating the process over and over until you relaxed as if to say I know, it’s okay. When her legs intertwined with yours, you didn’t resist, understanding that she needed you just as much as you needed her. Instead, you held her tighter as if she could slip away if you didn’t.

Truly believing that this was where you were supposed to be.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x y/n #wanda my beloved #5 + 1 things #marvel #wlw post #spider!reader #spaghetti cooks

252 notes · View notes

dazednmatthews · 13 hours

Text

always, i’ll care~ number neighbor!matt x reader part fourteen point five

i know that this doesn’t seem like an important part but it is!!!! the song for this chap is perfectttt. y/n is jus like me fr yall gotta get off her. her lore is avoidant attachment and commitment issues like she’s jus a girl!!!

part 15 and 16 thursday night <3 i decided to write something really long and special for the last chapter so 17 will be up friday or saturday at the latest. and then we’re done 🥹 soooo crazy boots. love u all always.

the hum of y/n’s AC unit is killing her into a dissociative state. she’s been staring at the countertop in front of her for what feels like hours, unmoving.

it’s been about a week of no contact with matt. a week since she ripped her own heart out of her chest and squashed it in to the sidewalk between them. she stares at their messages often, rereading the texts with muted emotion. she wants to text him, she always fucking does, but she just can’t.

there’s a burning in her eyes because she doesn’t know the last time she blinked, but she doesn’t care. she doesn’t even know why she’s so hellbent on running away. sure she’d been hurt before and that was a concern, but she knew matt was different. she could feel it.

and maybe that’s what made it so hard. she knew that they could be real and good and right. it’s enough to freak her out all over again.

the clattering of her ice maker snaps her out of the stupor, blinking furiously as she comes to. her apartment seemed too small, too condensed. it didn’t help that she now knew what it was like to have matt here, flashes of that night bleeding into the memory of every space in there. from the living room to the bathroom to her fucking bed, he was everywhere.

don’t even get her started on the pictures she has in her phone. the ones of matt over facetime, the ones of them smiling at each other in face masks, even the ones from the day they met, doing dumb shit. it all serves as a vile reminder that she fell into the same grueling self sabotage she thought she’d healed from.

the tears are pricking her eyes painfully, and the words from a week ago are reverberating unforgivingly in her head. “whenever you’re ready, whenever you want to stop hiding, i’ll be here, y/n.”

she wants to be ready, wants to to stop being so fucking avoidant. she knows that the longer she takes, the more matt will be hurt, and that’s the last thing she ever wanted to purposefully do.

the truth is, y/n doesn’t want to be dispensable. this whole thing with matt started because of her. her boredom, her interest, her persistence. she’s always felt like matt has had the upper hand. he could walk away so easily, at any time, and that fucking terrified her. especially now, with all the feelings she has for him and the way he’s pretty much become the most important person in her world. she hated that, being out of control. so she had to get it back somehow. it just so happened that somehow included breaking her own heart, anyway.

when she finally walks away from the spot she’d been standing her phone rings. the terror and excitement that she feels in that moment make her hands shake, but when she looks at the caller ID, she sees it’s her best friend. she doesn’t know whether be more relieved or disappointed.

“hey,” she says quietly. she’s tired, has been for days.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” it comes from love, so y/n just sighs.

“not now, daria.”

“um, fuck that.” she can hear shuffling from the other end. “you’ve been moping for a week. you still haven’t texted him?”

y/n feels her heart squeeze at the question. “i don’t know what to say.”

“bullshit.”

she tries again. “i don’t want to hurt him.”

“bullshit.”

“i’m not ready.”

daria scoffs a laugh, like her friend just said the funniest thing in the world. “can you guess what i’m gonna say next?”

y/n rubs at her eyes. “bullshit.” she mumbles.

“exactly.” there’s a pause in her words, and y/n can hear what sounds like the washer in the background. “you’re in love with that man, y/n. you’ve talked every day for like what? three months now?”

“four.”

“oh my bad,” the sarcasm makes y/n smile the tiniest bit. “four months. and you talk about him constantly. i literally know basically everything about him too.”

“i know, but-“ she tries to interject but daria is having none of that.

“no buts. what are you afraid of?”

y/n is stumped. not because she doesn’t know the answer, but because she does. “what if i go all in and he decides that this isn’t what he wants? or i fucking tell him how i feel and he fucks me over?”

there’s a pause. and then, “you’ve gotta be the dumbest bitch i’ve ever met.”

“oh, okay.” y/n blinks.

“i love you, very dearly. like immensely. but the only person in this relationship that has given any feelings of doubt or uncertainty is you.” it quite literally feels like a shock goes through her entire body as her best friend continues. “you quite literally told the man that it was never that serious and that he needed to relax. meanwhile, he basically confessed his love for you.”

she feels herself cringe at the reminder of her matt’s last conversation. from the look on his face to the way that she felt. it’s probably her biggest regret, maybe ever, because all she did was say a bunch of words she didn’t mean. bullshit, as daria would say.

“please don’t fucking remind me.”

“you need to be reminded. constantly, actually.” y/n rolls her eyes at her friends brashness. “you’ve got to get out of your head, y/n. you and matt are clearly made for each other. you clearly care about him, and he’s obviously obsessed with you. getting hurt is scary, it fucking sucks, but that’s just apart of life.”

“the way i see it, you have two options. either you keep being a coward in fear that something bad could possibly happen, ruining something potentially amazing before it starts, or you fucking nut up and let yourself feel without restrictions. be open to his feelings, be open to all the possibilities and be open to yourself.”

you know that moment when you finally find that post you’d been searching for? or when you finally remember the name of a song that was stuck in your head? that feeling is exactly what y/n feels in that moment. like the connection between her head and her heart is finally, finally growing back.

“i hate when you make sense. it pisses me off.” y/n says through a tear or two, because feelings are fucking scary. “i love you.”

daria laughs and her voice is kind. “i love you, too. now stop wallowing and go get your man.”

y/n can feel something close to hope filling her. the wheels turning in her head are telling her that she knows exactly what she has to do. “yeah, i think i will.”

TAGLIST:

@cottoncandyswisherz @peachmels @sugrhigh @tastesousweet @hollandsangel @sturnolio-luvs @55sturn @chrryclouds @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @lookingformyromeo @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez @inkyray @simply-a-simper @lanas-doll @wh0resstuff @hypnotizedsturn @riowritesitall @kitaysworld @h3arts4harry @fikefries @conspiracy-ash @matty-bear @always-reading @thehighgrounds @unbruisable @ribread03

205 notes · View notes

fraugwinska · 2 days

Note

Hey! Me again!

Could I get an Alastor x Female reader where she tells him she's pregnant, he's so stunned he thinks it a joke until she shows him the positive on the test and it shocks him to the core but after the initial shock he's overjoyed.

My dear jezebel <3 Thank you for being so patient! I took a few liberties from the ask, I really hope you don't mind! After a lot of rewrites and edits - I'm finally happy to share it with you! Thank you for the ask, my dearest! TW:Sickness&death-Light smut-Minors DNI-5.2k words

Autumn had always been your favorite season.

The most colorful of the four; from your bed you could always see various shades of red, orange, green and yellow, all mixed together to create a vibrant, warm impressionistic painting. Just looking at the bright shades outside had always made you smile.

There was also this peaceful ambiance around autumn that you could feel but not quite understand. Something so profound and yet ephemeral in a way.

"Should I close the window before I go?", Alice asked you, a sad smile on her face. Your favorite hospice nurse had spent her last shift before her holiday almost exclusively with you - somehow you both knew there wasn't much time left. The sickness that ate away at your body was unforgiving - you knew it was simply a matter of days now, and even that was generous. Alice must've sensed it, too.

"No, no.", you replied with a warm smile. "Leave it open. The night nurse can close it later."

Alice nodded, said her goodbyes and gave you a kiss on the head before exiting the room, carefully closing the heavy wooden door with a thud of painful finality. Breathing had become painful lately, but despite the sting you inhaled deeply, just to burn the smell of bristle leafs and warm wood into your memory. Right next to the memory of him.

Alastor.

Summoning him hadn't been easy, especially since you were bedridden and almost constantly monitored. Not only did you have to take special care of choosing the right night to be left unsupervised - you had to bribe Alice and make her believe it was her own idea to give you a few hours to be on your own, which you claimed to need desperately. The internet had been your biggest friend in the weeks before, preparing - you had used the time you had at your disposal to research on shady websites and occult forums who to summon, how to do the ritual and, in case he said no, which bargain to offer. And you chose Alastor.

It was the name that spoke to you the most - Unusual. Mature. Vintage. Mysterious. Powerful and yet gentle, in it's own way. 'Mans defender'. 'Avenger'. The more you read about him on dubious servers and obscure wiki's, the more you were sure it should be him. Still able to use your hands back then, in the chosen night you managed to follow all of the instructions perfectly, even while bound to your bed. When the living shadow appeared out of nowhere, twisting and contorting into the shape of a tall, handsome, dapper dressed demon, the tiny handheld radio you had in your hands slid from your weakened grip and your heart skipped a beat. As he stepped nearer, the perceived humanity of his appearance disappeared before your eyes - long, black fingers ending in red talons, small antlers sitting in between fluffy crimson-colored ears, razor-sharp teeth and blood-red irises shining with curiosity. He stopped just a foot away in front of your bed. As he began to talk, to introduce himself - as though being summoned by gravely sick human women were the norm - you stopped him with a raise of your hand, the action draining your already weakened body and mind.

"I know who you are. Alastor, the Radio Demon."

"My reputation precedes me, then!", he chimed, his voice pointed, melodic and so enchantingly and contradictorily full of life. His whole posture, his devious smile and the way his eyes glinted in the dim moonlight made it very clear that he was a dangerous creature, and yet, you felt strangely at ease.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this summoning, my dear?"

You swallowed hard, knowing full well that if you wanted him to accept your deal, you needed to choose your words carefully.

"I... I am dying."

Alastor's grin twitched, but he said nothing, only tilted his head and waited for you to continue, hands folded behind his back.

"I've been sick my whole life, I...", you felt the need to explain, so that your offer wouldn't sound so... well, pitiful.

"Ever since I was born, I have been bound first to my crib, then to a bed, the hospital and now this hospice. I have never been allowed or even able to go to school, or make friends, or just... do things that children ought to do. Even though my life was always going to be short lived."

You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but blinked them away - you didn't want to cry in front of him, you felt pathetic as you were already. "I missed out on every milestone, every first experience a girl should have. First trip to a park, first day at school, first friend, first kiss, first... everything. And I'll miss out on so many more. I just want to have one normal thing, one 'first' before I die. One memory of a real and happy experience. Of something good."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?", he asked, a brow raised, his smile growing wider. He could probably hear the beating of your heart as you took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never.

"I want to lose my virginity."

The silence following your calmly stated confession was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It took a while for Alastor to say something.

"Oh my, you really don't mince words, do you, darling?"

You shook your head.

"I have no time to waste. Every second counts."

"Believe me, little one, I'm quite... flattered that you'd go through the trouble of a summoning ritual for this... let's call it: venture. But... why me? Aren't there any men up here you would rather be with?"

"Have you looked at me?", you laughed bitterly. "I'm a sick, dying 20-something in a hospice bed. No man would ever so much as touch me. If I'd even get to meet anyone, since I can't get out of this bed anymore without a nurse. I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, not even money. I have only my soul. Please."

The last word came out as a whisper. Alastor's eyes glowed red in the growing darkness, his grin ever-present. He seemed to consider it for a moment, the sound of humming static the only sound in the room and you feared he might reject you.

"If I were to agree, would you truly be willing to pay the price for it? Your soul, darling, is a very precious thing. Do you know the implications of it's loss?"

You nodded.

"Yes. You can have it. It's not worth anything anyway."

Alastor stepped forward, his eyes locked with yours. He didn't sit down on the bed, instead he stood right beside you, bending over until his face was just inches from yours, the back of his hand lightly brushing your fringe out of your face. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of blood and something earthy, like wet soil or moss. He smelled like a forest in autumn.

"It is worth quite a bit, actually. More than you can imagine, I'd wager.", his voice was quiet, almost unfiltered and utterly beautiful. "But I can see you are dead set on it - Pardon the wordplay."

His sharp claw pressed into your skin, eliciting a gasp. He followed the curve of your cheek to your chin, lifting it to better access the side of your neck, just under your jaw. Your skin broke out in goosebumps because for the first time in your life, you felt a touch that was not clinical, not meant to treat you or wastefully bide you more time. This touch was gentle and purposeful. Sensual, maybe. A soft sigh escaped you against your will.

Alastor let out a hum that was not entirely unhappy, before bringing his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel the ends of his fluffy hair tickling your face, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against your skin.

"A happy memory, you say. One satisfying experience in return for your soul. I am certainly not usually known for my kindness, dear.", he muttered against the skin of your cheek, before turning towards your lips. So close. Your heart was beating as loud and as fast as it could, making you dizzy. "But I think we have ourselves a deal."

The golden hour has passed, turning bright orange light into fading blue to black. And the air was turning colder. The memory of that night was the only thing you thought about as you slowly felt death approaching.

The way his lips felt against your mouth, his tongue and the sweet taste he left on your lips that still lingered whenever you ran yours across them, recalling the sensation just once more. He had been gentle, patient, always asking and never assuming or forceful. He made sure you were comfortable before exploring you, careful in the places he touched, mindful in tasting you, praising you for the sounds you made. He allowed you to do your share of exploring, too, and although he wasn't human you found his body still wonderfully, beautifully male, no matter his thin, soft taupe fur and his many, shimmering scars. The memory of the moment when he had finally filled you, tender and slow, was as much sweet pain as it was blissful pleasure, and you found solace in his warmth and the steady, rhythmic pace of him moving inside you as you spilled his name, over and over again until he spent himself inside you, bodies deeply connected. It was hard for you to believe that all of it had been actually true, and not just one big fever dream your dying mind had cooked up to send you off gently when Alice woke you from your sleep later that night, wondering aloud why you didn't turn off the little, handheld radio on the floor that was still playing soft jazz music.

But the little, red and blue marks on your collarbones and the one red-and-black strand of hair you had found on your pillow were telltale signs that everything had been indeed real, and you made sure every detail was etched into your heart, into your body and into your skin. It was, and would remain forever, the happiest moment of your entire life.

'I hope my soul is worth enough...' you thought as the coldness finally embraced you, tears running freely down your cheeks now, but the smile on your face was wide and warm, and the last thing you heard before falling into your final sleep was the gentle hum of a breeze that brought in the smell of earth and rain and leaves.

Alastor had no need for sleep. He usually didn't spend his nights sitting in his favorite chair, motionless, listening to music. He was far too busy, too full of life and plans and energy to sit around and just wait for morning. And yet, there he was, sitting and brooding for the last month, every night, his ears tuned in on the low, static-y noise coming from the old-fashioned radio he was holding. A radio eerily similar to hers.

'How did it come to this?', he wondered for the thousandth time, like a broken record. 'Why did I do it?'

He couldn't fathom the reason for his actions that night, why he had given in to the strange, frivolous request of the frail young woman. Why he had agreed to take her virginity, of all things, in exchange for her soul. Granted, she wasn't the first to offer him that, not by far. But usually, the soul was the last thing a sinner offered, after a great many things of lesser value had been already offered and declined in return. It was, in essence, the most desperate measure, taken only by those who had nothing else to lose.

And yet, she had promised him her soul in the very beginning, treating it not as a valuable bargaining chip, but as an expendable object. A thing without use or worth. He didn't know what had intrigued him so much that night. She had been sickly and fragile, her skin almost translucent in the pale light, and yet there was a spark in her eye. Determination, maybe. Her voice had been strong, if quiet, and her smile, although sad, was still familiarly bright. The way she spoke and her body language had made it clear that she had been not as much afraid of him, despite her frail and vulnerable position, as she had been anxious about his response. She was clearly clever and resolute, despite her lack of personal experience. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to follow through the summoning ritual.

"I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, no money. O only have my soul. Please."

He couldn't remember a single instance where someone had begged him with the simple word please and he gave into it. And yet, he had accepted her plea - The whole of her soul, in exchange for a meager, single moment of ridiculous passion. The mere thought had repulsed him before: Body on body, blunt thumps of fleshes, debauched obscenities... it was something that had never held his interest. He felt like it was something unrefined and animalistic, something he had always regarded as unnecessary and obsolete. Until then.

Her body had responded so eagerly, so sensitive, so ready to his touches. It had been clear she hadn't lied about her virginity, and yet her eagerness, her fearlessness had surprised him. Acting solely based on instinct and the morals he was brought up with, no real experience of his own himself, he had tried to be as careful and gentle as he could, and somehow, her inexperience had made it... easier. She was not expecting anything in terms of skill, and thus he had to guide her through the process, allowing him to set the pace and giving him ample time to react to her reactions. Sweet gasps, subtle tremors, faint flushes - all of which had told him how she had felt, what had been pleasurable and what had been uncomfortable. He had been able to take his time and make sure she enjoyed herself. It had been fascinating and even... pleasurable for him, too.

Despite the obvious pain, she had kept her eyes open, watching his face intently as they connected. He had felt the warmth and the tension around him, and her little, breathy gasps had been such pleasant sounds that when she had finally found her release, it had triggered his own, foreign as it had been. She had sighed his name in pure bliss, and in that moment he had felt as powerful and as satisfied as the night he had gained his title as Radio Demon.

And when the deed had been done, the girl had smiled so serenely, he was sure he had rarely ever seen anything that could rival her in beauty.

Alastor shifted uncomfortably at that thought, trying to will away the memory and the sensation that the mere thought of her smile invoked.

It had taken a few minutes, but eventually he had collected himself and put his clothes back on. Her eyes had followed him, the spark back in them and even brighter than before, her smile not faltering even when her tired lids had drooped down, slowly lulling her to sleep. Alastor had stood there, in the small, plain hospice room, watching her for a while, a strange feeling in his chest. The deal hadn't been solidified by a handshake, her soul not yet firmly bound to him and the contract void if not officially sealed, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Something had stopped him.

The memory of her face, pale and beautiful, smiling so peacefully even in her slumber, made the corners of his lips twitch. She would've made a magnificent addition to his collection of souls. And yet, and yet... He had decided then and there that her soul would find its way to him, eventually. But not through the proposed deal. So, he had left, the exchange unfulfilled, the pact broken, turning on the small radio she had let slip onto the floor just as he heard her caretaker returning to check on her.

'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.', he mused bitterly, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Alastor?"

Charlie's voice was a mix of concern and curiosity, muffled by the thick, wooden door of his room. She sounded worried, probably wondering why he had excused himself from the hotel's interactions more and more for the past weeks. He was about to ignore her, not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not her, persistent thing that she was, but when her soft knock followed her call, his smile widened tightly and his eyes flashed red.

"Charlie, dear, I'm afraid I'm not available at the moment.", he called out, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

"Sorry, but...", the princess sounded hesitant, and he could hear her shuffle awkwardly outside. "It's just... There is someone in the lobby, wanting to speak to you. It seems... important."

He got up from his chair with an annoyed sigh and switched off the radio, straightened his clothes and smoothed out his hair and bow tie with one swipe. Whatever business matter was brought forward, Alastor didn't feel like discussing it. The smile he wore was razor sharp and dark, a result of his annoyance and brooding mood, and yet he couldn't bring himself to feign his cheery personality just quite yet. Maybe this mystery visitor would be a suitable punching bag to let off some of that steam.

When Alastor finally opened the door and walked down to the lobby next to a flustered looking Charlie, his breath hitched involuntarily and he froze mid-stride. Charlie stumbled at the sudden lack of motion next to her, the deafening static sound and the chime-like tuning of a radio startling her so much she flinched away from him.

"H-Hey Al!?", she called in shock, "Are you okay?"

He didn't move, didn't even react - his attention was solely focused on the figure standing at the front-desk, who, just a moment ago, had talked to Husker before turning around upon hearing him.

Hell kept her skin white and almost translucent in it's spite, but granted her soft, shimmering silvery fur in it's mercy. Her frame wasn't thin and frail anymore, she looked plush and healthy, soft curves where there had been nothing more than skin and bone before. Keeping almost all of her human features intact, the small, round ears protruding from her hair, the pink-tipped nose and the long and slender tail were definitely characteristics of a dormouse, their ends almost silver and soft-looking. Her eyes were of the same gentle color that he remembered, and when her lips spread into a sad, tender smile his breath was stolen away completely.

It was the same smile. The very one he hadn't been able to purge from his mind, and most likely never would.

"Alastor."

The sound of her voice, quiet and melodic as it had been weeks before, felt like an invisible touch that pulled the air out of him. Not enough to suffocate him, but he was still reeling none the less.

"So you finally succumbed, it seems..."

His usual bravado was absent, his voice lacked it's sharp, jovial tone, sounding more like he was actually talking. Charlie could do little more but watch with widened eyes, seemingly unable to fathom the scene right in front of her.

"What are you talking about, Alastor? How do you know...", the princess spoke carefully and uncertain, her eyes wandering from one demon to another, but she was quickly interrupted, not by him, but by...

"It's a long story better told another time, Miss Charlie.", she said with a genuine smile on her face, still not able to take her eyes off Alastor. She took a few tentative steps towards him, careful, but certain in her movement, a confidence about her that hadn't been there before. Her head tilted in an enigmatic way and she spoke again, this time solely directed at him.

"I'm truly sorry to impose. But I was hoping we could talk... privately."

Alastor nodded mutely, not able to think clearly, before taking a deep breath and straightening his back to tower over her once again. Husk seemed to notice his shift in composure, raising a brow when he passed him by on his way back behind the bar, noticing the strangely satisfied looking smile on Alastor's face that was as unnerving and frightening as always, but with a different tint that even Husk must've trouble placing guessing by the suspicious look that fell over the cat's face.

"Of course, my dear, my office will suffice. If you'll excuse us, Charlotte? We'll be only a short while."

He didn't wait for her response but took his guest by her arm and guided her past an astonished Husk and clearly confused Charlie, leading the girl down the hall and to his office, the air between them thick with something undefinable, and neither of them dared to speak until the heavy mahogany door fell shut, effectively cutting off all outside interference.

Her cheeks were flushed when she stepped closer towards him. The tips of his claws brushed against her fringe, following the curve of her soft ear, across the back of her delicate neck to pluck a strand of her hair, pulling it towards him and running the silky fiber between two fingers and over the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips with a deep, pleased inhale.

She looked up at him, her smile shy but hopeful.

"You remember me.", she said with a chuckle, her voice a bit higher, her ears twitching and her tail swaying behind her, showing her emotions all too easily. Alastor nodded, not letting go of her hair just yet.

"How could I not, dear. It's not common for me to leave a contract unsettled, you know."

"I had a feeling that might've been the case, since it took me so long to find you.", she said quietly. "So, my soul..."

"... is still yours, yes."

She wasn't looking at him, directly. Her gaze went over his suit, to his hands and cane, then back to the floor.

"Why?", she asked, a hint of confusion and hurt in her voice, her silken hair slipping from his fingers.

"Why didn't you claim it? You had every right, after all. I offered, you agreed and..."

Alastor didn't speak, couldn't speak. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet he wasn't sure if he wanted to share it. It felt... strange, and foreign, and not quite comfortable. But it was undeniably true, now - with her in front of him - clearer than any time in the last weeks in his chair, each night, in front of the fireplace.

He wanted her. Not just her soul. Her. So, he settled on silence and a half-truth, instead.

"It wasn't the right time, dear."

Her face turned to him, her eyes searching his. He felt exposed, like her eyes were piercing him.

"And now...?"

"That remains to be seen. Why are you here?", he countered, stepping back to put a more comfortable distance between them.

"I came to see you, because..." She swallowed hard, and Alastor watched her throat, the soft swell of her breasts under her modest blouse, the slight rise of her belly. "When I arrived in hell, I felt... weird. I thought it was because of all the changes, this new body and... generally being here. But it didn't go away, this.... feeling. I made friends with a lovely imp couple, they took me in after I fell. The wife, Millie, took me to a doctor because she got worried when I couldn't stop throwing up..."

Her face grew hot, a flush spreading across her cheeks, her ears folding back against her head.

"Alastor, I'm pregnant."

A loud bang rang through the hallway as Alastor dropped his cane and a deafening feedback noise filled the room. For the first time in what must have been decades, his face betrayed him completely, the smile ripping at the sewn edges as it dropped violently. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning.

"Impossible.", he breathed, the word almost getting stuck in his throat. The very notion was ridiculous, unheard of - clearly that must be a crude joke. Alastor started to laugh, though sounding not as amused and booming as he would've hoped, but more hysterical than anything else.

She stayed silent, looking at him with sad, but serious and almost pleading eyes as the truthfulness of her confession began to sink in and his laughter slowly died. He took a tentative step forward, a million questions running through his head, the sheer amount overwhelming his usually so precise mind.

"So, a month ago, it...", he stopped, feeling the corners of his mouth pull wider.

"...yes. The doctor told me there are only a handful similar cases like this known since hell was created... The circumstances are 'too specific' and it normally takes a vast amount of intimate interactions' between a hellbound sinner and a living, fertile human he said... Seems like you knocked me up with one round, buster." She wrung her hands, her smile forced and unsure. "Listen, Alastor... I know it sounds impossible. I mean, I couldn't believe it at first when he told me so I understand you can't, too... but I don't expect anything, I really don't. I just... I wanted to see you again, and-and you deserve to know, and..."

"Darling, hush.", Alastor interrupted, a sense of clarity taking hold of his chaotic mind. He had never felt a desire for a family, not in his lifetime nor in his death. Partners were liabilities and a distraction, relationships nuisances if they strayed beyond the borders of business or at the very most friendly aquaintances. He had no need for things like these in the past, looking down on people desperate to seek out partners, claiming to be lonely when in truth they were just weak or simply starving for a touch of the 'opposite sex' to make up for their own inadequacy.

Now, faced with the reality of fatherhood in a matter of minutes and the prospect of his life being bound to another - one who, undoubtedly, bore his child, no less - Alastor would be lying if he had claimed a part of him didn't absolutely reel at the prospect. A responsibility greater than his own had just fallen into his lap - a vulnerability he never asked for and certainly didn't expect.

But.

A part of him would come into the world, no matter whether it would look human, or demonic like him, or whatever strange combination of them both: This child would be proof of him. Him, not anyone else. There would be a person dependent on him for guidance and protection, a legacy he would be allowed to leave, a lineage that could one day claim that he, Alastor, had been the founding cause. His legacy. His blood and his seed had created another being against all rules and logic, an offspring, maybe a girl, maybe it would resemble him, or her, or even... his mother.

Despite the incredulity and the sheer panic the revelation brought, the longer he looked at the tiny dormouse in front of him, the more he realized how similar her traits were to his own mother's. Soft, but determined. Sad, but brave. Young but aged.

No, this hadn't been just some fleeting fling - Alastor had to believe in fate, given what she told him. There had been a reason why he didn't seal the deal that night. Why he had agreed to her request so easily. The more Alastor thought about the potential of a shared offspring, along with a loyal partner on his side, about the what-ifs and could-bes, the more appealing and pleasant the future appeared. She was carrying a being he created, one that had his essence – All the more stronger his grin widened, stretching so far it caused his cheeks to ache, but his blooming glee knew no bounds. He saw, to his own surprise, not a weakness or vulnerability.

But his greatest achievement.

With a laugh, this time sincere and booming and loud instead of hysterical, he picked her up on her waist, knocking the air out of her in a gasp, and swung her around several times.

"O-oh! Oh my goodness!", she stuttered, eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Alastor, calm down!"

"Oh, no no no, I simply can't! Dear, do you have any idea what a marvel you have wrought!?", he exclaimed in delight, setting her back down and bringing both hands up to her cheeks. "We've created a magnificent abomination!"

Her head shook as she chuckled, still nervous but with an edge of relief in her voice. "That's certainly one way of saying it. But... are... are you saying that... you are okay with it? That you..."

"What, dear?", he cooed, her big eyes shining hopefully as her ears twitched curiously. His chest swelled with affection, and he gently squeezed her cheeks between his hands.

"Does a daddy on your side scare you, darling?"

"N-No-oh."

The title invoked a peculiar reaction, and he made a mental note to use it again soon enough, as her cheeks flushed in a dusty rose. Alastor felt an unfamiliar and somehow primal pleasure at the sight of it, a surge of happiness in his chest, the warmth of it nearly too much. He pulled her face against his, smothering her with a kiss. He wasn't familiar with such embraces, but she felt like she was specifically molded to fit perfectly into him, her ears flicking with every beat of her racing heart.

There were tears welling in her beautiful eyes, and as he kissed her cheeks and brushed them away with his thumbs. Oh yes, Alastor was filled with a new kind of giddy excitement.

"Come on, dear, let's not waste time to spread the good news!", he exclaimed, unable to reign his euphoric mood, and before she could comment on his actions, he reached out and lifted her over his shoulder in one fluid movement, ignoring her startled squawk. The look of utter bewilderment on her face almost made him break out into more laughter, but he was already out the door, ready to take his child's mother, who was, without a doubt in his mind, bound to him forever with a force much stronger than any deal he could've made, downstairs to tell the news to his fellow friends, who would have no choice but to learn what a truly dangerous deal looked like.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #charlie morningstar #hazbin husk #habin hotel #soft alastor #hazzbin pregnancy #quickfic

209 notes · View notes

mochinomnoms · 1 day

Note

I have been having this thought for days now and want to know what you think.

This is before ptm Jade and Yuu are together, it's Also before Riddle and Floyd are together.

Mama and Papa Leach are coming to visit there boys at school and of course they know all about Yuu and Riddle who know nothing about them. I imagine shenanigans would insuu. Like Mama and Papa Leach trying to set up there boys and just embarrassing them in general.

Their parents are very perceptive, and they know their own sons quite well. Despite their best efforts to hide it, and thanks to the twins' proclivity to embarrassing the other whenever possible, they both know specifically who their sons are fond of.

Mama Leech loves picking fun at Jade for his shyness with his crush. Granted, he's much more like her when it comes to interacting with the subject of his affections: coy, quiet, and sly. Waiting for the right moment to strike. In her case, it was a strike of jealousy that spurred her to claim her husband by kidnapping him and dragging him home. Though, it can't really be called a kidnapping when he was so eager to let her take him hostage.

But she notices how shy Jade is around Yuu, something that no one but those closes to him would notice. To others, he's his same polite, maybe a bit mean, self. But to her, she can see how gentle he is with Yuu, how his gaze lingers on their form longer than considered polite, and how his lips quirk up every so often with them. It's cute, but boring! She's wondering why he doesn't just pick them up and toss them in the sea to take home like Chinese take out. Just, swoop them up! Mama Leech forgets that that's not necessarily a custom for humans (or a good chunk of merfolk to be honest).

Jade knows what his mother thinks of romance, and her habit of becoming jealous. So he's not keen to let her around Yuu, especially considering the numerous amount of friends and general attention they get from others at NRC. In her mind, Jade should make a statement in front of everyone that Yuu would appreciate. After all, he must have studied them like she did her husband, so he must know them very intimately and what they like! But if he refuses? Well, time to take things in her own hands and start making offhanded comments about how fond Jade is of them, how much she raised him to be a doting partner, and that their home under the sea can just be soooo lonely! She wishes that he'd bring home a sweet partner to fill up the space, just like them :).

On the other side, it shouldn't come as a surprise then that Papa Leech is much more like Floyd: outspoken, attached, teasing, but ultimately won't make the first move. As much as he liked to chase after his wife and take over her attention, Papa Leech wouldn't make the move to make her his. Instead, he wanted her to chase after him, and was very excited when she kidnapped him for herself. It was practically a dream come true! Floyd is very similar, in that he likes Riddle's attention and reactions on him as often as possible. He's always been fond of excitable and expressive things, and Riddle (though not a thing) is one of the most expressive and eye-catching people he's ever met. Plus, he's so red! Floyd never knew how brilliant the color red could be, the color muted under the sea. Riddle has him quite enamored, though he's quite unaware.

Papa Leech thinks it's funny that Floyd can be so outspoken and social, and yet his crush have no clue that he's in love. Even more so after her got beat up by Riddle! You're telling him that the tiny classmate of yours that tossed you across the room on orientation was not only this tiny thing, but that he did that and didn't immediately claim Floyd as his mate? Humans are so strange in their courting customs. Papa Leech is just as “tactful” as his wife, funny enough, making small comments to Riddle about how much Floyd talks about him, how he's so impressed how determined he is, how strong he is, etc. Ironically, Papa Leech is Floyd's best bet in getting Riddle to fall for him, as Riddle tends to just assume the worst intentions from Floyd. But hearing how…sincere Floyd is, and the embarrassed look and pink cheeks on his face as he tries to get his father to stop, Riddle might be inclined to think more of Floyd's actions.

#mochi asks #a-small-tyrant #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd x riddle #leech parents #fun fact papa leech is bruno and mama leech is narissa #i came up with their names a while ago tehehe

211 notes · View notes

crookedkryptonitebeliever · 17 hours

Text

A hand dynamometer. A device to measure a person's grip strength. Your friend bought it off from somewhere during one of her impulsive shopping sprees. She lent it to you for the day.

You tried it out yourself, squeezing the handle as hard as you could and having your whole arm contracting. You were lukewarm with your results, your strength fell into the average category. Nothing more, nothing less.

You kept it away, forgetting about it for a while and your friend did so too. It's almost like she gifted it to you.

Until one day, you were searching for something from your drawers. You stumbled upon the dynamometer again.

You were curious about Yves's grip strength, he's quite lean and built. His readings must be high, but you wouldn't know until you've tested it on him.

So you went back out to your living room. Yves was folding your laundry neatly, it was warm and fragrant as he did it for you earlier. His fingers smoothened the wrinkles delicately, caring for everything you own.

Yves didn't have to do your chores, but he insisted because he said he loves doing it. Especially when it's in service to someone he loves to death; you.

He did offer to let you move in with him. Although it was tempting, you didn't want to feel like you're taking advantage of his willingness to take care of you. It would be even worse if you lived with him, Yves would become your full time maid! It feels unsettling despite Yves's reassurances that he's enjoying doing such tedious tasks.

"Yes, my love?" He asked while picking up a stack of shirts to be returned to your dresser; It's arranged by colour and makes it aesthetically pleasing to look at. Yves reflexively used a hand to tidy the strands of hair away from your face.

You presented him the device.

"Ah..." Yves smiled charmingly as he picked it up from your hands. You knew he knew what it was, this is something you've appreciated about this relationship. It's as if he would read your mind and words aren't necessary to convey your wants at times. It saved you a lot of energy and you felt... Special. It's something no one has ever made you feel before except your new partner.

Yves barely gave it a squeeze before you heard a defeaning crack that made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. It also made Yves's green eyes widen in surprise too.

He slowly uncurled his slender, delicate fingers from the handle. "Oh?" Only for the gadget to fall apart, shard by shard, screw by screw and spring by spring. It crumbled like a scone to the floor, miscellaneous pieces bouncing off everywhere and landing on the tip of his high heels.

Your jaw was slack, just how strong is he? You remembered using all your might and maybe about to burst a vessel in your eye from the power, just so you could get an average score. Yet, Yves is leisurely holding your neatly folded clothes in one hand, while the other merely gives the dynamometer a light compression at best- and he obliterates it.

He sets your clothes back down into the clean laundry basket before kneeling on the floor to pick the debris up.

You asked him how he is so strong.

"I am terribly sorry for breaking your handheld dynamometer, dear." He spoke, picking the sharp pieces up first, so you wouldn't get cut. "But it was already faulty before I could even perform a fair test." Yves continued

That made a lot more sense. Because that device can handle up to 200 pounds, or 90 kilograms. To make it shatter like that, Yves would have to at least double, triple or even quadruple its maximum limit. And within a blink of an eye too? Without breaking a sweat or grimacing? It's impossible that Yves possessed superhuman strength to do that. Right?

"Where did this come from?" He asked, rising up to his full height as he carried the broken dynamometer in his deceptively dainty hands. "It isn't of good quality."

You told him it came from your friend, you have forgotten to return it to her and it seems like she has forgotten to ask for it back.

He cocked an eyebrow. "The one who regularly partakes in flagrant overconsumption?"

Your eyes darted around, trying to defend her. But ultimately, Yves is right. She buys more than she can afford. And she tends to visit sites that sell for cheap, but in horrible quality.

"That explains its... Intolerance." He brought the mangled dynamometer to your eye level. Yves sighed before chuckling, "I'll replace it as soon as I can."

Yves kissed you on the forehead before walking past you, so he could reach the trash can to dispose of the broken dynamometer.

You didn't catch the second, silent sigh of relief, though. He thinks he's getting sloppier, Yves was trying to impress you by achieving a grip strength comparable to those of elite athletes. But he was much stronger than that, Yves was supposed to control the contraction of his muscles to not scare you off. But he must have gotten distracted by your presence, all he could think of was how kissable your cheeks were and his cuteness aggression must have gotten the better of him. That damned device was actually functioning perfectly fine.

You seem to buy his coverup. But regardless, he must do something about his near uncontrollable urge to squeeze you out of sheer love and affection.

He dusted his hands off and turned around. Yves caught a glimpse of you carrying your folded stack of clothes back into your bedroom.

His eyes tracked your every movement, big or small. Cherishing and memorizing each sequence. Yves's face may be unreadable, but his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand and the momentarily dilation of his pupils could tell a story of a thousand words about his rawest feelings towards you.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader

183 notes · View notes

ch6sos · 2 days

Text

₊˚⊹♡ dad!nanami headcanons

summary: simple headcanons of nanami being the Best Dad ever <33

cw: all in lowercase because i was a bit lazy i am sorry-

3.5k words oopsies not too much but still a good enough number yuh

dad!nanami who cries upon seeing his newborn baby girl, grateful that she was born.

dad!nanami who climbs inside of his daughter's crib/bassinet while she cries and just gently puts her on top of his chest, softly caressing her fragile head and giving her soft kisses.

dad!nanami who is so patient with his baby. when she cries he doesn't get frustrated or mad, he tries his best to make her feel better by reassuring her with words or giving her favorite toy.

dad!nanami who loves looking into his daughter’s eyes because she has his sweet amber eyes in doe form.

dad!nanami who coos at his baby all the time, his most genuine smiles stemming because he's happy to have such a blessing in his life.

dad!nanami who has his baby on his lap while she gets shot with a needle at the doctors, and proceeds to glare at them or try not to cry because of the small wails of his baby girl.

dad!nanami who always carries his baby with him in one of those baby wrap carriers. he even brought her to work once, and the baby just relaxed with him while he typed away at his computer.

dad!nanami who once felt lonely as an only child, wants to have another baby or adopt one because he doesn't want his daughter to grow up feeling too alone.

dad!nanami who lets his daughter pat his face with her slobbery, sticky hands, but scrunches his nose up at her and gives her small kisses.

dad!nanami who gets home from work and immediately grabs his baby girl, collapsing on the couch and lays with her while he has her lying on his chest, and drifting off to sleep with his suit on.

dad!nanami who spoils his baby, with clothes, toys, and more, and enjoys seeing the gummy smile on her face.

dad!nanami who goes through instagram or social media, sees babies on his explore page everywhere, and begins to have more baby fever.

dad!nanami who gets sad when his baby is sick, and immediately starts trying to make her feel better. he has to sneakily give her medicine because she refuses to drink it, and remembers that his parents told him once that he was the same way, he was a stubborn little baby.

dad!nanami who finally has a use for the random pairs of baby shoes snuck away in his closet; he doesn't have to buy them because he thinks they're cute, he now has a daughter who can use them.

dad!nanami who once always had a stoic look on his face, but as soon as he had his daughter, the most genuine smiles ever come out of his face. his friends and people around him are surprised, as they never see him smile.

dad!nanami who is desperate to get off of work just to see his baby.

dad!nanami who bought a bed extension so that he could keep the baby close to him on most nights, even though the baby has her own nursery.

dad!nanami who lets his baby girl chew on his ties, even though they're expensive.

dad!nanami who is an absolute softie for his baby girl. even when she is chewing on his tie, when she broke something, he could never be too angry at her.

dad!nanami who is overwhelmed with emotion when he realizes his baby has spoken her first word. as he hears the faint "yes!" escape her lips, he is filled with joy and tears. He gently scoops her up and spins her around, a mix of laughter and tears escaping from him.

dad!nanami who is overcome with emotion as he watches his baby take her first steps. he sits on the couch, eagerly waiting for her to clumsily make her way towards him. a wide smile spreads across his face as he extends his arms to welcome her into his embrace. tears well up in his eyes as he feels overwhelming joy. his daughter, seeing her dad cry, becomes emotional as well, and joins in with tears of her own.

dad!nanami who does not trust almost anyone with his daughter, only his partner and ino.

dad!nanami who notices his daughter babbling at something, and notices that she was babbling at an old photo of him and haibara. he smiles fondly, gently whispering in her ear.

"yeah, that's your uncle. he would've loved you so much, sweet pea."

dad!nanami who bursts out laughing when he sees his little one trying to slap gojo in the face, gently kissing the top of her head.

"attagirl. you're so smart. i'd love for you to do that more."

dad!nanami who lets yuji see his daughter, and closely watches him as he takes care of her. he smiles fondly though, knowing that yuji was another reason why he wanted a kid.

dad!nanami who, on his daughter’s first birthday, had a small little gathering for her, and chuckled as she looked out of it and stoic, almost reminiscent of his personality.

dad!nanami who prepares himself for the "terrible two's & threes", knowing that his daughter may be more temperamental around this time. though, he doesn't need to do much because he does gentle discipline.

dad!nanami who blinks, and all of a sudden his baby isn't one, two or three, but now is five, entering kindergarten.

dad!nanami who looks at his daughter, smiling gently as she grabs her backpack and they head inside of the school. but then frowns and kneels when his daughter begins to cry a bit.

"listen, my love, i know it's scary. being in a room with strangers your age. but i promise, everything will be okay, alright? you’re such a brave girl, i know you are. no need to be nervous, okay? you’re smart, you’re the best, so i know you will have friends right away."

his daughter immediately smiles a bit, and she gives him a soft kiss on his cheek and nose.

"okay... i love you, papa... so much. bye bye.."

dad!nanami who is still parked in front of the school building for a while, overwhelmed with emotion, tears streaming down his face as he realizes just how much he loves his daughter and how quickly she is growing up.

dad!nanami who sits down and looks at his baby girl fondly while she blabbers about her first day at school.

dad!nanami who is basically a second teacher to his daughter, he teaches her how to read and she always enjoyed reading ever since she was way younger, so she is advanced for her age. he smiles when he hears this at the parent-teacher conference and rewards her.

dad!nanami who nearly faints out of joy when he realizes he's gonna have another kid.

dad!nanami who loves to fix up his daughter’s hair, running his hands through it, and gently kissing the top of her head while she sits on his lap.

dad!nanami who puts his daughter on top of the stool so she can watch him cook/bake something for her.

dad!nanami who tells his child that she is going to have another sibling, which immediately resorts to talks about where babies come from.

dad!nanami stalled on the question, trying to think of how he would tell her the answer to that question. the stork? magic?

dad!nanami who, on his days off, takes his daughter out onto an adventure, taking her to the park, going on the swings, and getting frozen yogurt and pastries from his favorite bakery.

dad!nanami who does anything for his daughter, dresses up as a princess, dresses up as a superhero just to play along in her games.

dad!nanami who takes his daughter trick or treating and secretly has a rivalry with all the kids in that neighborhood so he has to obviously make his daughter the best costume.

dad!nanami who proudly takes a picture of his daughter holding up any achievement they earned from school, and posting it on his facebook, instagram, whatsapp status...

dad!nanami who smiles when his daughter asks "do you got games on your phone, pa?" just for it to be candy crush.

dad!nanami who makes sure his kids aren't on technology at a young age because he wants them to live their youth not on social media.

dad!nanami who only shows discipline by showing disappointment in his face. if his daughter cries at his face he would immediately soften up and begin carrying her, smothering her with kisses.

dad!nanami realizes his second child, his son, is a carbon copy of him, from his hair to his eyes, to his facial expression and attitude, he was the same as him.

dad!nanami holding his two children as he reads a book on the couch, each on the side of him.

dad!nanami who officially retired to become a househusband, and stays home to take care of his children. he still receives big money!

dad!nanami who chuckles at his son as he eats food with a slightly grumpy expression, reminding him of how his mother told him he used to be like that.

dad!nanami who does not have a favorite because both of his children are his top priority in life.

dad!nanami who watches with a fond smile as his daughter shows kindness to her little brother. he tries to hold back his tears, but they fall anyway, causing his two little ones to cry as well.

dad!nanami who goes out with his little ones and has his son on the baby strap thingy and his daughter holds his hand as they walk.

dad!nanami who talks about his daughter and son in every conversation he has with people, and spends time rambling about them, about their achievements, about how cute they are...

dad!nanami who plays peekaboo with his son chuckles when he bursts out giggling.

dad!nanami who takes pictures of his son, but he always has a small scowl or a serious expression on his face. he smiles at the sight of it.

dad!nanami who once got visited by gojo, and while his daughter took a liking of uncle gojo, his son does the same thing that she once did when she was younger, sticks out his tongue at him, and looks at him with a grumpy expression.

"next time, you should bite him."

dad!nanami, who somehow knows about the mom gossip because they believe he is the only man ever to be allowed in the mom gossip, so he somehow knows... everything about the neighbourhood.

dad!nanami who notices his kids have taking a liking to bread, just like him, so he begins to make his bread and feeds them it.

dad!nanami who plays music while he cleans, and then smiles widely when he notices his son, dancing along to it. he then grabs him out of the crib, and slowly dances with him in his arms.

dad!nanami who once wakes up to see his three loves, his partner, daughter, and son made him breakfast in bed. he happily gives them all a kiss, thanking them.

dad!nanami who sees his son playing with his watch, and sees him trying to put it on. he laughs at the sight, knowing that his son will probably turn out to be exactly like him.

dad!nanami watching as his son crawls ontop of him everytime he's on the couch or in the bed, and he smiles fondly.

dad!nanami, who unknowingly fell asleep many times with both of his kids on top of him, his partner having a whole collection of the pictures.

dad!nanami who lets yuji sees his new son, and watches as yuji got better at handling and holding the newborn. he looks at them with so much love, knowing that in the future, yuji will also guide him like his little brother.

dad!nanami who used to have drinking as pastime before having kids, but completely stop as soon as his daughter was born.

dad!nanami who spends moments reading to both of his kids, or singing lullabies so they could go to sleep.

dad!nanami who smiles when he realizes his first son's word was not dad, but his name. he heard yuji say "nanamin", and then he copied his words, only saying the min part.

"no, no baby. it's dada... da-da!"

"min!"

dad!nanami who doesn't care, he just tries not to tear up again at his son who said his first words.

dad!nanami who watches his son, does the same thing his daughter did - looking and pointing at a picture of him and haibara. he smiles sadly, yet finds solace in the fact that both of his children have somehow acknowledged his best friend whom he lost so long ago.

"that's your uncle haibara. he would be so happy to see that you know who he is, bubba."

dad!nanami looks at the picture of haibara, with a frown on his face. he can't help but feel saddened that his friend never had the chance to grow up alongside him, and was left behind in the past. he reflects that haibara would have been glad to see him happy for once.

dad!nanami hears a faint murmur, and it seems as though his son said "haibara." picking this up, he tries not to cry.

dad!nanami who teaches his curious daughter how to cook, since she loves watching him as he cooks. they then take up the food to his partner.

dad!nanami who sees his daughter one day comforting her baby brother from crying, exactly like how he used to comfort her as a baby. he feels his heart explode from how cute it looked.

dad!nanami who blinks again, and all of a sudden his two children are 8 and 13, but no, he doesn't have just two children. he has an additional one, this time another girl, who is two years younger than her big brother.

dad!nanami who takes his children to the beach to make sandcastles, and lets them do whatever they want to him. so of course, he gets buried with sand as they laugh at him.

dad!nanami who prepares for his daughter's adolescence, understanding that she's experiencing growth hormones and puberty. he willingly provides period products for her and supports her through any challenges. when she becomes more irritable, he addresses it with understanding and patience, not taking it personally.

dad!nanami who raised a son who reads at a seventh grade level as a third grader.

dad!nanami, who also has his youngest daughter, who is only six years old, reading at a third grade level and his eldest daughter, who is an eighth grader almost reading at a college level.

dad!nanami who lowkey interrogates his teenage daughter's friends when they come over. she tells him to calm down, and eventually he does. she always asks him why does he do it.

"it's obvious, sweet pea. you have to be careful with who you surround yourself with, especially at your age. when i was your age-"

"okay dad, i get it, you're old!"

"hey, i'm not THAT old."

dad!nanami who prepares michelin star level meals for his family, his daughter occasionally helping.

dad!nanami who notices that his son grew up to be similar to him; stoic yet caring, smart and respectful...

dad!nanami who buys everything for his kids; when they have a new interest they have to get ready because he's going to bombard them with merch of it.

dad!nanami who is respectful of his adolescent daughter's privacy; though occasionally worries about her and wants to know about her life.

dad!nanami who does his youngest daughter's hair, and reminisces about how he used to do his eldest daughter's hair when she was the same age.

dad!nanami who gathers up his kids and they keep haibara in their remembrance, and he tells them stories about haibara of when they were teenagers.

dad!nanami, who observes that his adolescent daughter is going through an emo phase—albeit one he is familiar with.

dad!nanami, who enjoys showing his children affection by hugging and kissing them from time to time, wants them to be able to communicate their feelings effectively, as he was not able to do when he was younger.

dad!nanami who raised a non-ipad kid family, he limits their technology use and makes sure they're living offline more than online.

dad!nanami who makes christmas an absolute experience for them. he dresses up as santa, has a whole neat pile of presents for each of them, and prepares them a fancy christmas dinner.

dad!nanami who doesn't believe in birthday celebrations for his kids because they share his preference for low-key events. however, he shows his love by taking them out for a special meal or getting them whatever they desire.

dad!nanami who enjoys spending quality time with his kids. he loves playing Scrabble with them, and even though he's a scrabble master, he lets his kids win to boost their confidence and make the game more enjoyable for them.

dad!nanami who sees his eldest daughter come home with a bunch of flowers and letters on valentine’s day…

“i wanna see who these are from…”

“dad! they’re nothing.”

“do you like any of them? if so, what are they like?”

“daaaaaad!”

“okay, fine. i’m sorry, sweet pea. i just can’t believe my baby is growing up so fast.”

dad!nanami who once saw his son in his closet, putting on one of his suits.

trying not to chuckle, he covers his mouth. “bubba, what is this?”

“my clothes.”

“oh? YOUR clothes? you have great taste, son.”

dad!nanami who realizes that his children are different in their own ways— his eldest daughter is emo like he once was, listening to my chemical romance, occasionally wearing his old jewelry and some of his old clothing, but she was not quiet like her father, she was bubbly and loud, the complete opposite of him.

his son, on the other hand, is more stoic, much like him. his son takes some time to smile, but around his father, he is a smile machine, especially when nanami tickles him or plays with him. he also enjoys reading a lot and is classy, just exactly like his father.

his youngest daughter, she is ambiverted. while loving interacting with people, there are times when she needs space or does not like talking to people. she is like a balance of both of her siblings but is not that developed yet. she is also a huge foodie like her father.

dad!nanami who has their drawings and report cards on the fridge, it looks like a mess because it is covered with achievements.

dad!nanami who still wears the handmade jewelry his children had to make during a kindergarten activity class.

dad!nanami who raises a house where everyone does something, they all clean, cook, and do chores.

dad!nanami who has several parenting books (even though he doesn't need them) but uses them to better understand his children and improve his parenting skills.

dad!nanami who raises his kids with so much love and affection; always making sure they're okay, comforting them through their hardest moments and making sure they treat others the way they want to be treated.

dad!nanami who is now older, his eldest daughter 24, his son 19, and his youngest daughter 17, seeing how his children grew up to be such amazing people.

he sees that they grew up to be such respectful individuals, feeling content that he and his partner did such a wonderful job.

he sees how his daughter, who is engaged to her significant other, has grown up to be such a lovely person—working her way up independently in the world while attempting to do good for the world by pursuing a law degree.

his son, who is a carbon copy of him in terms of looks, has also grown up as a person. he is strong when it comes to academics and has grown to become more sociable yet still introverted. he became an empathetic, considerate young man who upholds boundaries and constantly watches out for those closest to him, just like his father. he also grew up to be an animal lover; which is why he'd love to become a veterinarian.

his youngest daughter, who is currently a teenager but almost an adult, has grown up to be unbelievably intelligent. plays chess with her dad 24/7; honor roll, is the equivalent of someone that princeton university would accept …. she puts a lot of effort into her success and aspires to write in addition to running a flower shop (him core).

dad!nanami who loves all his children, so so much, and would do anything for them.

a/n im going to kms

255 notes · View notes

caitlinbueckers · 3 days

Text

take care.

caitlin clark x reader type beat PART 2!!!!!!!!

6.2k (what the fuck)

ok. Listen!!!!!! This is long time coming and also is a disgusting amount of words and dialogue and like weird subtextual angst masked with smut honestly it’s pure delusion on a page also ending only slightly abrupt bc it was unfathomably long sorry

wasn’t gonna make the sequel so in depth like ??? How’d this one shot turn into a fic 😐 no Clue but all i know is that insecure sort of self deprecative caitlin clark with this soft dominance of a reader combined with two bitches who won’t admit their feelings is my crack!!!! let me know if a part 3 is even needed or if yall even care teehee

no beta simply just vibes

ANYWAYYZZZZZ love u guys sorry that i suck!!!

two weeks since you’d texted that number with your name, a simple contact, and she’d liked the message, and that was it.

it wasn’t like things immediately changed— you still, somehow, made your flight despite the throbbing headache that reverberated in your skull, and you still were able to make sure you didn’t leave a toothbrush or a stray apple watch charger in the hotel room but, miraculously, you find a way to not mention a single thing about your one night stand until you touch down at home; manchester, connecticut.

you tell your friends all about it— probably missing some implied understanding about nda’s— and pretend like it isn’t that big of a deal that one of the biggest basketball players for women’s college wasn’t knuckles deep inside of you only the night before.

but it’s a big deal. and you know it is.

like her breath, fierce and rampant with each spellbinding curl of her fingers, wasn’t startlingly still replaying in your mind, her mouth soaking in each warm, huff of air that you expelled in the form of a moan. like she hadn’t watched as she fucked you, dark eyes somehow impossibly darker as her biceps flexed, the line of thick, corded veins that traveled her muscular arms somehow jumping with each pump of her fingers inside of you.

that the same, somehow blushing girl that stood in the elevator had regarded you like something to be challenged, like something she could fight for. something she could win.

you didn’t forget a single thing. not in the way she leaned down over you as her fingers quickened their pace, the force of it eliciting grunts from caitlin’s mouth as she tore you apart, piece by piece, licking the remains as her teeth grazed over a nipple, the sensitive jut of your collarbone.

“so pretty,” she’d murmured against your skin, almost absently, like she didn’t even realize she’d said it. “you like that?” obviously, it went without saying that you did (very much), but really, you’d learned that she wanted to hear you say it. it was in the same way that - as she’d recounted to you drunkenly in a hotel bar that night - she needed to hear the audience cheer. that the fans hollering and shouting was when she felt like she was on fire. it was the external validation that urged her forth, amped her up, kept her alight.

somehow, you could see exactly how it applied to her then, her eyes quick to scan over your face— your lips, to kiss them, before she’d ask again, urgently, “you like how i fuck you? huh? tell me.”

you’d nodded furiously, words tumbling past your trembling lips, “y-es, fuck, yes—“ god, it would’ve been impossible to pull more than a few words from you with how wrought you are, body unrelentingly tense, shaking and weak until she’d coaxed another orgasm out of you, her name sounding broken on your tongue as her fingers slow, the unrelenting grind from the heel of her hand finally relaxing to ride you through it.

she was unforgivingly good with her fucking hands, you’d come to realize.

and yet, beyond all of that, much to your friends dismay, you don’t call her.

no, in fact, you mute her name on twitter and block the IOWA womens basketball page because it becomes suddenly like a frenzy. she’s everywhere, more than usual, like some sick sign from the universe and as much as it seems almost the complete opposite of how you really feel, you decide that you can never see her again.

it’s not like the sex wasn’t phenomenal, or that when it’s late and your hand sneaks into your pants, your imagination doesn’t always seems to conjure up tall, pretty girls with brown hair and green eyes, or that she didn’t completely captivate you from the moment she’d looked at you, dumbfounded and sheepish in an elevator with a blush staining her cheeks.

it wasn’t that. in fact, it was the complete opposite.

it was because the moment you’d seen a picture of her online after the fact, looking tougher than you knew she was, you’d realized that the last place you’d seen her was from between your legs, and it felt like a fucking soul crush.

because she was beautiful, and smiling, and playing up that celebrity, all-star mentality that you knew she could back up, but that you realized wasn’t her in the slightest. because now, you knew her— sort of— and saw her in ways that nobody else had— that you knew of. more so, that she’d learned your body in the span of a night and then just left, and somehow that just wasn’t fucking fair.

there was a shroud of mystery that surrounded her, even if she belonged to the world, to her supposed boyfriend, to everyone, really— way more than she ever belonged to you, even if just for a night.

so you go on about your life, and you pretend you don’t notice the draft is coming, or that soon, the already well known athlete was gonna be world renowned, taking her biggest leap to play professional, and you’d be nothing to her, nothing but the girl she’d screwed in a hotel room when she’d gotten too drunk after the final four.

and sure, you find solace in it. but there’s also this lingering, nagging feeling of being unfinished, like there’s still more. there has to be more.

so, no, you don’t call her.

but, somehow, you find last-minute tickets for the draft— which, in the grand scheme of things isn’t completely selfish. the moment you’d seen nika muhl and aaliyah edwards up for the league, you’d known that you were going to try for tickets. you just, probably, maybe, weren’t actually expecting to hookup with the projected top number one draft pick, either.

but you did, so, you buy them anyway.

you let your friends tease you for picking a dress that’s sorta slutty and for spending more time than you should doing your makeup at whatever hotel you picked in boston, only a few blocks from the draft.

all in all, it goes exactly how you expect. caitlin gets number one draft, which only slightly makes you antsy in your seat, thinking about the fact that she doesn’t know you’re there, that she doesn’t know you saw her win big and that she possibly could’ve been thinking about anyone fucking else. your favorites, nika muhl and aaliyah edwards, get teams that you’re more than happy to celebrate, and watch paige bueckers and azzi fudd get shoutout after shoutout. it’s good, it’s fun— but fuck it.

you think you miss her. maybe just her fingers, or her mouth, but you realize in a weird swell of recognition as the guests are ushered out, your head spinning back every few moments to see if you can catch a glimpse of her, that you do.

you miss the cait you’d met— you just didn’t know the one that sat in the room now.

then, it’s all sorta funny, in a way, considering the situation you find yourself in once everyone begins to disperse, limos and SUV’s pulled up and parked outside of the venue, crowds of fans standing around the barricades to sit for their favorite athletes to pile out of the doors, to go to some super elite, exclusive party that you knew you had no place at.

you don’t expect any special treatment, and you don’t expect a text or a call— which is good, because they don’t come.

no, actually, they don’t come until later.

later, after you’d spent the rest of the night in a nearby bar with a couple of girls you’d met leaving the draft. they’re funny and they’re nice, gushing about the picks, talking miles a minute about all their favorites and making you pretend that the tequila doesn’t burn just a tiny bit more when they mention caitlin’s name.

it doesn’t come until you’re showered, dressed in sweats and pleasantly drunk, scrolling through the shitty channels when your phone buzzes once, then twice, then three times and it almost makes you click the lock button, shove it over in assumption of your friends bothering you about an unsuccessful night to woo a pro athlete— but then it happens again.

you can’t really decipher what makes you look at the random assortment of numbers and it suddenly click. maybe it was because you’d spent the past few weeks in a complete back and forth, scanning over a crumpled napkin with the name ‘cait’ and these specific numbers beside it.

you know who it is, and despite yourself, your heart catches in your throat.

“hello?”

“you made it.” her voice is deeper than you remember, and it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks burn almost immediately. fuck.

“huh?” you play dumb, mostly because it’s more embarassing to admit that you’d came all this way for this, for the slim possibility that she’d fucking notice.

“tonight, i mean. you- i didn’t know— i didn’t know you were coming.” you stay silent, because what else is there to say? had she seen you?

but she continues, “you should’ve told me.” and then, “i, uh— i would’ve liked to see you.”

she’s pathetic, and so are you. a hand comes up to shove back your hair from your face, breath increasing only slightly. “i have a hotel, like, smack in the middle of boston if you’re… like, if this is an offer.”

now, she’s silent. there’s a shuffle on the other end, a murmur of a voice that you don’t recognize, before she’s back, her voice closer, softer. “yeah. yeah, i’d, uh, i’d like that.”

you open your mouth to say something, probably alcohol fueled and embarassed, but she’s speaking now, a bit quicker, “just text me, yeah?”

then the phone clicks, and for half a second, you stare at the home screen as if this couldn’t possibly be fucking real.

but it is, miraculously, and god, it makes you kind of fucking horny to think that she’s willing to see you at half past three in the morning, so your fingers fly over the keyboard in record time— a pin being dropped through imessage with a confirmed ping.

it’s fucking go time after that.

you find the lacy, practically nonexistent underwear you’d brought, forgo a bra entirely, and try to find something a little less boring than your sweatsuit, before you realize with a sickening realization that the revealing dress you’d worn for the draft was the outfit you’d expected to see her in, and as much as you cared, you kinda fucking didn’t— she’d been inside of you, by now. clothing didn’t seem as pressingly urgent as it would otherwise.

it’s only about twenty minutes before she texts you, a simple ‘here’. you send a brief message, just the number of your hotel room, and pretend like your heart doesn’t practically pound out of your chest for each passing moment, eyes flickering from the door, to the window outside, the city bustling even at a time like this.

she knocks only twice, and it startles you enough that it takes your breath away.

the moment the door swings open, it’s like a wave of calm washes over you, a weird sense of solace that you hadn’t realized she could offer, mostly due to the fact that before you stood the caitlin you’d remembered from all those weeks ago, after final four. not the exquisitely dressed, superstar you’d seen earlier that night, in shades and clothing that you could never afford with an attitude you didn’t recognize.

instead, she stands before you at her startling height, in sneakers, sweats and a windbreaker, a hood over her head and her hands tucked into her pockets. once again, looking impossibly small for someone of her stature and it takes all that’s within you to not kiss her right there.

“you got here quick.” you mention, still only slightly breathless as she offers a smile that resembles more of a smirk than anything else.

“i was scared you’d fall asleep,” and it sounds as sheepish as it makes you feel.

you step back, let her walk in and inhabit the space, only slightly making your palms sweat to have her here, in front of you again.

you decide to take the initiative to plop onto the bed, looking up at her as you toy with a stray string from your hoodie, “i wasn’t gonna fall asleep,” you retort, looking up at her, catching a glance that you don’t break, “congrats on top draft pick.”

now, she’s blushing, shaking her head and pursing her lips, “still feels unreal, dude.” she murmurs, looking down at her feet before slowly, her movements unsure, she sinks onto the bed next to you. “you’re unreal.” you say quietly, smirking at her, because you know how she’d cringe at it, scrunches her face before shaking her head. “god, not by a long shot.”

you open your mouth to say something else, maybe tease her about it, but she clears her throat quietly, “but i don’t, uh- wanna talk about that right now?” she offers a mirthless laugh, “is that stupid?”

she turns to look at you, and it happens to only be a couple centimeters from your face once you look up, shake your head “then we don’t have to.” you agree quietly, and it’s impossible to miss the way her eyes flicker down at your lips, back up to your face, and it’s equally as impossible to ignore the flip you get in your stomach before you surge forward to kiss her.

she kisses the same, tastes like what you remember, if not marked by whatever cocktails she must’ve had, whatever liquor still sat on your own breath, and it washes over you greedily that you do fucking want her— more than whatever you tried to convince yourself of during the past two weeks, more than what you’d downplayed to your friends.

“been thinking about you,” it comes out rushed, murmured against caitlin’s lips, shakily from your own mouth as she lets out a slow, wanton breath. you turn to crawl up on your knees, swinging over her hips to push her back against the bed.

she makes a noise like it stems from disbelief, almost like denial, but doesn’t pull away, not even once as her hands, fingers long and palms wide, spread beneath your sweatshirt, span across the expanse of your back and grasp.

“i did,” you insist between breathless kisses, foreheads pressed together hard as her hand races up the front now, over your stomach, palm your breasts and elicit a pitchy gasp from the immediate contact of her cold hands to your sensitive nipples, “every fucking day.”

“shut up,” she denies it again, which only slightly irks you because as cliche as it felt to say during a makeout, it’s not like you would lie about how much you’ve craved this— or more specifically, her.

you try to really expand on the thought, but it becomes almost impossible when her lips attach to your jaw, suckling until her teeth are teasing the sensitive, thin skin beneath your ear, and you make a noise too embarrassing to recount before you can gather your words. “…missed you.”

caitlin makes a noise in her own throat, something between a growl and a groan as she arches her hips up slightly to press against you, before she shakes her head, pulling back only to look up at you from your position on her lap with this sick, almost torturous gaze. her eyes are lidded and feverbright, cheeks pink, and lips glossy, kiss-bitten.

“you shouldn’t think about me.” it comes out quick with her breath, her thumbs still slow in the circles they rubbed around your nipples, making your head arch back with a whimper before you swallow hard, her words almost too quiet to hear, “not worth it to think about.”

the admission surprises you, “fuck off, clark.” you snort, the words fall lazily out of your mouth, “so humble, huh?”

she gets hot at that, and you can tell from the way her face is pressed into your neck, the way a heat radiates from her cheeks right at that moment that makes your stomach swirl, your own hands coming up to tangle into her hair.

“…i‘m serious.” she insists, still mouthing against the same area of skin that you knew would be bruised, and pretend like her totally incognito, self deprecative words weren’t somewhat confusing and worrying you.

she was fucking perfect, didn’t she realize that? how could she not when practically everyone else in the world thought the same? maybe you were being dramatic or maybe you were just horny, but it felt achingly real in the moment that she knew that, even if she wouldn't listen, even if you'd have to show her instead.

“cait, i’m fucking serious.” you counter now, using the hands in her hair to tug, exploring the reaction that it elicits, which is something that apparently caitlin enjoys by the soft whine that jumps from her throat, the way her breath quickens, the wide eyed look she gives you.

it makes your head spin, your thighs clench involuntarily. she seems so fucking innocent, and yet, all knowing at the same time.

“is that… bad?” you continue, your own head ducking to latch your lips against her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath your teeth, “that i… touched myself and thought of you?” maybe it was the cocktails or the fact that this could be the last fucking time you see her, but it’s like word vomit— every thought and emotion that comes to you is spoken without hesitation, and apart of you wonders where you’d gotten such newfound bravery.

caitlin must be wondering too.

“not bad,” it comes out of her weak, weaker than she is right now, melting under your mouth and the tight grasp you have on her dark hair, the way each strand twines around your fingers to where even the most minuscule move of your fingers elicit a huff or a sigh, “it’s… fucking hot, what the fuck.”

it fuels you, in some way, to hear her validation. for some reason, you don’t try to hold off much longer— your own sweatshirt is being pulled off in record time, tangled in your arms momentarily and flung across the room as you go to reach for hers, “off?” you hum in the midst of the movement, to which she nods, quickly, obedient and yet, so unruly.

she was a dichotomy of everything she stood for. a shy girl pretending to be a superstar, and yet, even in moments like this, quiet and intimate, it felt like a superstar pretending to be shy. you knew just how easily she could unload, dominate the situation— pin you down by your wrists and eat you out within an inch of your life, because she had.

but now, she’s relenting, and it makes something within you burn, strengthening wildly to try and tame that beast that you knew sat fervent beneath her skin, to try and prove that caitlin didn’t always have to be caitlin clark, she could just be this.

just a pretty girl you wanted to fuck.

besides, maybe you were making up for lost time, returning favors you’d been too drunk and blissed out to give the first time around when she’d finished you off with fucking ease.

as soon as she’s exposed, her black sports bra yanked off with little effort to reveal her breasts beneath, pale and dotted with freckles, a red line from the band of it standing starkly against it, you find your mouth lowering to suckle on a spot near her nipple, teasing against the bud and licking gently at the skin until you hear her breath increase, breaking only slightly into a whine that makes you swallow hard.

you pull away, just to look at her— dark eyebrows furrowed, focused in a concentration that you can only discern as someone fighting for the need to control, to dictate, to display the same use of her strategic authority that she’s used time and time again on the court.

you decide in that moment, that you won’t let her.

“let me take care of you?” it comes out softer than you mean it to, and you can see the trust building within her, slow to register as safe— and you don’t blame her.

you both are practically strangers, knowing nothing of each other than drunken conversation that had turned too deep, nothing but the sound the other made when they came, the faces they made. it was intimately unfamiliar, and perhaps that’s where caitlin had found the solace.

maybe she knew that at this point in her career she wouldn’t have normalcy. it was practically impossible for any person knowledgeable in sports to not know her, or even just of her. to a further degree, even most, with the exception of being well versed in women’s sports, had at least heard of her, and that was simply a piece of herself that had been taken, one she’d never be able to retrieve.

but this, this might be the one standing, single piece of lucidity and realness that was hers— locked away in a hotel room in a city unfamiliar to the both of you, and it’s enough.

it’s enough for now.

“you wouldn’t even text me back.” she counters, but it’s clear in her tone, regardless of how ragged, that it’s to prod at you, and it works.

“shut up.” you murmur as you press your hands to her shoulders, push her back against the bed to straddle her fully as you brush your thumb over her abused nipple, reddened and too easy to bruise. she moans when you press on it, and it elicits a smirk to your face that’s impossible to hide. “you’re here now, aren’t you?”

for some reason, it causes a sad sort of smirk to her face that’s impossible to miss, regardless of how quickly she covers it with an exhale of want, one that you know isn’t feigned, “where else would i be?”

there’s a million answers to that. press, interviews, sleeping, with her fucking boyfriend, but you settle for a small smile, “good point.”

you hope it centers her a little when the bruising press of your fingers translate into something gentler, more of a caress against her chest that you trail up to her face, and it almost twists something inside of you to see the way her face relaxes, leans against it as if it was some type of treatment or medicine to some ailment you weren’t aware of.

you go to pull away, to begin working at the ties on her sweatpants to unwravel her even more, lost in the softness of the moment and yet still blinded by the hazy lust until she speaks, quiet and barely there.

“did you really think about me?”

it stuns you for half a second, because the simple confession hadn’t registered to you as something she’d recall, something she’d look to expand upon.

but you’d always been honest, brutally so.

“yeah,” you say it as if it was obvious, when truly it wasn’t, and more so, probably wasn’t reciprocated, “i had fun,” a gross understatement, a weak replacement for all that you really wanted to say. then, if not a bit more revealing of your inner voice, “didn’t you?”

caitlin makes a noise that resembles a huff, but it’s not impatient, it’s honest. you wonder how often she gets to do that. “you know i did.” it comes out like an admission of guilt, under her breath, yet her eyes are unrelenting as they are sincere and it makes your eyebrows lift.

it makes your breath halt slightly, “is… not having fun in your contract or something?” you lace it with a quiet chuckle, mostly because you don’t want to make it too deep, too revealing to ask, but part of you thinks it’s expanded beyond that already, had been since she'd called you at three in the morning, just to say that she'd seen you, that she wanted to see you again.

her hands rise from her sides to rest against your thighs, and the touch is welcome, one that you relax into before she manages a half smile, “might as well be.”

but then, you see that surge of confidence again, something in her eyes glimmering as she squeezes at the skin of your thighs, hard, but your eyes remain fixed, even as hers drop, almost shy in her show of strength. “it’s why… i’ve thought about you like, everyday since... final four?”

that certainly makes your breath halt, invoking a reaction in your stomach and between your legs that you choose to ignore as you swallow, thumb still slow in its brush against her cheek.

“yeah?” it comes out of you rough, and she grants you with a nod as a response, then, after only a moment, she whispers, an echo to your words from before. “so... is it bad that i missed you too?”

“god, shut up.” you repeat again, as if somehow that was a valid response to being told such a thing by a girl you’d only had met twice, by a girl you knew nothing about.

you wanna ask her a million questions, know anything and everything: ask her if she’s actually into girls, if she’s actually into her boyfriend. mainly, if she’s actually into this pedestal that she’d been thrust into, if the fame was too much, maybe if it was never enough.

but you settle for shutting her up for now, because you can see the way her chest rises and falls rapidly, can hear the strain that it took to admit, and you realize, selflessly, that maybe you won’t let yourself ask for more.

not now, anyway.

instead, you lean up, uncharacteristically tender as you slide your lips against hers, feels the way she relents against you, slow and subservient.

“can i show you how bad i missed you?” your fingers tease the edge of her sweatpants, and she lets out a creaking groan, head tilting back and eyes closing as if in exasperation, before she nods. “please.”

you get right to work.

it takes only a little bit of adjustment to get her pants off of her long legs, to reveal the simple pair of black boy shorts that she wore, before you can finally tease a finger against the soaked fabric, reveling in the wetness that you knew matched your own.

her hips jump up, caged in only by your legs as you arch your middle finger, riding the knuckle against her heat, watching the way her face twists only slightly, lips parted in silent noises that you wish you could beckon out of her.

it is fun, you realize in the back of your mind, to pull her apart like this. without the inebriation clouding your mind from the last time, you feel almost startlingly cognizant of your own movements, of her reactions.

when you finally pump your middle finger into her, you notice the way her stomach and abs flex involuntarily, the way her voice pitches up and almost keens in her throat, catching with every stuttered inhale.

when you lean down to press your lips against the slickness of her cunt, press the pad of your tongue to her clit, she says your name— loud. it’s something mixed between a whine and a plead, long, dexterous fingers tangling into your hair and holding on tight.

you devour her, tongue slow to slide against her slick folds, to feel the surge of wetness spill out around your fingers, mixed with your own saliva. you drink her in like she’s a potion, or an elixir, something that you swear you can find and savor if you just go deeper, harder.

it isn’t until you feel her thighs tense, clamping around your head as she lets out a sound close to a gasping breath, marked with a moan that makes your head spin— she sounds so fucking desperate, and you’re bound and determined to give her exactly what she wants. what she deserves, really.

she comes on your fingers, in your mouth, and you relish every bit of it, quick to clean up the excess with fervor. she’s sensitive still, her breath huffing out whenever you breach too close to her clit, but you’re gentle. that’s what this was all about, right?

it’s quiet after the storm, your wrist sore and mouth wet as you sit up a bit, eyes careful to observe how hard her chest rises and falls. the way her hair, having fallen from its loose bun, sat in messy waves around her face, nothing like the impeccably straightened strands you’d seen at the draft, and it sort of makes you smile in an off handed way that you can’t explain, especially not when she opens her eyes finally to look at you.

“quit.” she says, and there’s a smile, tired and breathless, teasing at her own mouth as the hand that had fisted your tangled locks finally released, dragging down the side of your head to push your chin away lightly,

you can’t help but snicker, raising a brow, “what?” she rolls her eyes, and you repeat yourself, this time with a snort, “sorry, you’re just— you just look pretty like this.”

it’s hard to pretend that something inside of you doesn’t wince when her smile drops slightly, and you pretend like it isn’t uncommon to compliment the stranger you just ate out with such sincerity and honesty.

she’s slow when she says it, “...you always look pretty.” and it sounds wistful, murmured in a way that you can’t help but flush a bit at, as you roll your eyes now as if to return the favor, “you’ve only seen me twice, drunk, in sweats.”

but for some reason, that makes her smile return and for half a second, you let yourself pretend.

that maybe, this random series of hookups between you two weren’t fueled by some weird attraction slash escapism slash secret infidelity that had to be shared between you, or tucked away from the world. for half a second, she wasn’t caitlin clark, women’s basketball superstar, future member of the indiana fever.

she was cait, a girl you’d met at a bar that you’d hooked up with who just happened to see you again, and maybe, if you were a little dumber, and maybe a bit drunker, you’d admit to yourself that there’s a part of you that likes her, and each time you’d thought about her in the past few weeks, it had become achingly apparent.

but, you’re smarter than that, and definitely not drunk enough, so you pretend that her next words don’t make your heart skip multiple beats, as if it doesn’t cause a flutter in your chest.

“still,” she scoffs, and she’s sitting up a little, her hand having laid lazily against her stomach, reaches over to grasp your wrist, almost absently, “plus, i saw you earlier tonight, in that dress?”

it shouldn’t make you almost stunned into silence, but it fucking does.

“sorry— not to like, be weird and say i was looking for you but, i dunno, i just— i remember you saying something about UCONN, so i just assumed you'd be ther—“

you’re kissing her before even you can register what she’s saying, or why she says it all in this shy, almost sheepish tone that fills you with a flood of endorphins, butterflies being set alight inside of you.

“god, you’re so…” you’re not sure where you’re going with it, but you can’t help the way your hand comes up to hold the side of her face, dip your thumb against her bottom lip as if to make her taste herself, all as your eyes watched, lidded and fixed.

then, you exhale, only a whisper, “i’m gonna get you in trouble.” you manage to say, despite the very obvious fact that watching her suck on your finger is doing unspeakable things to you, before you drag the wet digit out, her bottom lip pulling only slightly.

“with who?” she says it almost as if you both know the answer, both thinking about the multitude of bigger names and bigger people who had long since been the determinant in caitlin’s career— at least from the little that you knew— and it lapses you both in a measured silence.

until she speaks, and it’s quiet, and sincere. “you’re just like… the only thing in my life right now that has nothing to do with basketball.”

it's a compliment, wrapped up in something a lot more sad, a lot more sincere. it shouldn’t make you want to hug her, but it does, so, you do.

your arms twine around her neck slowly, your face lowering to bury against her neck, just beneath her chin, and you can feel her chest vibrate slightly with a chuckle or a laugh, before her arms are around you, squeezing you tight, “don’t go all sappy on me, dude.” she murmurs, but it’s present in the way she doesn’t pull from it, or really, the way she fucking clutches onto you, almost desperately, that you pretend once again that this doesn’t mean anything. that this is traditional, hookup behavior, and that once she leaves this hotel room, everything will shift right back into place.

a place where caitlin clark gets to be caitlin clark and you get to be you, and there’s no overlap.

except, that doesn’t happen.

no, instead, once you pull away from the hug she kisses you again, hungrier this time, her hands sliding from your back to your hips so she can hook fingers in the edge of your panties, urging you to sit up on your knees so she can pull them down.

instead, she lets you ride her thigh— both hands firm and strong, her own biceps lfexing to keep you glued to her thick, muscle corded thigh, your cunt unforgivably wet as she dragged your hips down, over and over.

your head tips forward to press to her forehead, and she kisses you through each desperate cry that escapes your lips, the friction and slide becoming wetter, slicker by the moment, drawing these high pitched noises from your throat that you know caitlin is drinking in, all while she murmurs to you in this soft little voice, “show me good it feels, lemme hear you.”

in the end, you both pass out there, somewhat in a laying position as caitlin lays on her back, arms loosely wrapped around you, who’s laying stomach down atop of her, a thigh lazily hiked up to hang against her hip, your face pressed into her neck.

it’s fucking bizarre when you think about it.

how you both had talked more than you ever had before, and when you look back on it in the morning, nothing but a ghostly reminder of her presence by the sheets that lay strewn about, the undeniable smell of sex and sweat that still hung in the air, you pretend like you don’t realize just how little you still knew about her, and just how much that you wished you knew.

you also pretend like you don’t miss her, or that when you’re gathering your clothes to check out, a soreness in your body unlike one you’ve really ever felt, you’re practically stunned to see her faded, gray, IOWA shirt, thrown lazily over the desk chair that makes you wonder just how accidental it was for her to leave it.

you wear it anyway,

it isn’t until you make it back to connecticut, making up some excuse for your friends as to how you hadn’t been able to meet up with caitlin, how she’d been too busy anyway and you’d spent the night drinking at a bar, that maybe, just maybe, there was a part of you that wanted to keep her protected, confidential.

maybe it was the post-sex fueled lust that wanted you to keep it close to your chest, a dirty secret only for you to enjoy, or maybe it came from somewhere softer, somewhere that remembered how caitlin had such little privacy, that it almost hits you like a pang just how much you wanted her to still have that, even if it was at the expense of not seeing your friends faces when you told them that you guys had hooked up, again. even if she'd never know that you didn't say a word.

fuck it. it’s the least you could do.

you try not to think about her for days really, not until you’re doing laundry and come across the grey t-shirt, deciding only then that you’d pull up your goddamn bootstraps and finally send a message.

it’s cheeky, the wrinkled t-shirt thrown on over your underwear, leaving your thighs on display and the peek of a hip that you know is intentional before you snap a picture, sending it with little hesitation, and subsequently throwing your phone afterwards at the bed.

“you left something”

cc loved your message, “you left something”

“i know”

“guess i’ll have to come get it back”

it’s stupid, you know it is, but it makes you smile, typing with an urgency only known when texting back the pretty girl you like, before you send it, bottom lip teased between your teeth.

“how close are you to connecticut?”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut #wcbb x reader #guys is this gonna become a series #im scared #caitlin clark

251 notes · View notes

catmiemy · 2 days

Text

Another Chance to Live Part 2 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana has to play against her former club with your former team. You do your best to support each other and slowly become closer.

Part 1

A/N: It took me a bit longer to re-read and edit this than I thought since it made me emotional because of another transfer that I'm still in denial about 😭

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next part. I'm always happy to hear what you think or what you'd like to see in this story.

Just like you had hoped, Ana and you continued to hang out regularly. In fact you spent most of your days off together and even met up fairly often in the evenings, relaxing either at her or your apartment. More often than not you still couldn’t believe your luck that the Swiss woman actually liked being around you too.

You made sure to steer away from any deep topics though, keeping in mind that Ana preferred when you offered distractions when she seemed unhappy. It wasn’t always easy for you because you wanted to know everything about her and you longed to comfort the blonde when she looked at you with sad eyes. However you understood that she had other people, better friends, that she could talk these things over with.

On the other hand Ana with her sweet and caring nature always asked how you were doing and offered to listen to your problems the moment she picked up that something was bothering you. The desire to tell her everything was almost unbearable at times. You wanted to unload all the things weighing on your heart , well maybe not everything, you would never reveal your feelings for her, but other things like the situation at your club or with your family.

However you didn’t. You successfully kept yourself from spilling your sorrows to Ana. For one you didn’t want to burden the Swiss woman with your problems, she had enough going on without you adding to it. And also you didn’t want her to know that she was the only person you would actually feel comfortable opening up to. It was a painful reminder that Ana was so much more important to you than you were to her.

A few days before Atlético was due to play Barcelona in Madrid the two of you were hanging out again. You had cooked some food together and then settled down in front of the TV for the night. You could tell that the Swiss woman was having a hard time focusing on the show you were watching, even though she had picked it.

Ana kept sighing quietly and glancing over at you. You in turn did your best to distract her, offering up your thoughts about what you were seeing on TV. It was getting increasingly difficult not to ask the blonde what was going on.

‘She prefers a distraction. She doesn’t want to talk about it, at least not with you. What she wants from you is a distraction, so try to find some interesting or funny things to say for crying out loud!’ You reminded yourself over and over again.

You were searching your brain to find something good to say when Ana broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?” She asked timidly.

The insecurity in Ana’s voice took you by surprise, that was really unlike her. But you didn’t dwell on it; instead you quickly assured the Swiss woman that she could always ask you anything.

“Okay, so…It’s not really a question but a favor. And it’s totally fine for you to say no, don’t feel bad at all if you say no! Especially because it puts you in a bit of an awkward situation. You know what, I’m just now realizing how stupid and selfish this is and I just changed my mind.”

You reached out to place your hand on Ana’s thigh, hoping to comfort and calm the clearly agitated woman this way.

“Hey, don’t worry. Just ask me. I have no doubt that the answer will be yes,” you encouraged her.

There wasn’t a single thing you could think of that you wouldn’t do for Ana. Well maybe there were some things, most of them illegal in one way or another, but you doubted that the Swiss woman was going to ask for any of them.

Ana took a deep breath before rushing out her request, “Would you come watch our game this week? The idea of seeing all of my former teammates again really hurts and it would help me so much if I knew you were there. I understand that it’s a lot to ask because my team is your former team, so like I said…”

„Yes, of course I’ll come, it’s the least I can do,” you interrupted the Swiss woman.

Sure you weren’t too keen on going back to Atlético’s stadium and see all of your former teammates play together without you, but the simple fact that Ana asked you to come and even said it would help her, was enough to forget all about that. Who cared if it would make you a little sad? Who cared if maybe some people would come up to you and bring up the still painful transfer? You definitely didn’t, not if you had a chance to make the blonde feel better.

For some reason Ana seemed taken aback by your answer. “Wait what? It’s the least you can do? What have I ever done for you? If anything I owe you! You keep hanging out with me; you keep showing me amazing places here.”

You scrunched up your nose at the blonde’s words. It didn’t sit right with you that she made it sound like hanging out with her was a chore for you, not when it was the only thing that brought you any joy lately.

“But I love spending time with you!” You cried out, for once completely forgetting to add the obligatory ‘as a friend’.

A soft smile appeared on the Swiss woman’s face when she heard your words, as well as the indignation in your voice.

“The same is true for me,” she was quick to assure you, before focusing once again on her first question. She wouldn’t let you wriggle out of this so easily. “But seriously why do you feel like you need to pay me back in anyway? I don’t remember ever doing anything for you.”

Slight panic began pumping through your veins, as you scrambled to come up with anything better to offer up than ‘You hang out with me when you’re so much better than me and there are surely so many better people in your life that you could hang out with.’ That just wouldn’t do. It was one thing to be pathetic, but another thing to shout it from the rooftops.

“I didn’t really mean it like that. Just that I’m always happy to do anything for you,” you mumbled finally. This time you caught yourself however and quickly continued, “I love being there for my friends.”

Ana didn’t need to know that there was no one else on the planet you would do this for.

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” the blonde cooed, her compliment instantly making you blush. “And I hope you know that I’m always happy to do anything you need as well.”

You nodded instinctively, not believing it for one second. Not that you doubted that Ana would be there for you in a for a friend reasonable manner, but your commitment to her went way beyond that. There was very little the blonde could ask for that you wouldn’t do for her.

Thankfully the conversation moved on to safer topics after thi and you could relax once again. At least as much as you were ever able to relax around the woman you were hopelessly in love with.

---

When you walked to your seat in Atlético’s stadium a few days later you cursed yourself for agreeing to this. With every step you took it felt like the sadness inside of you grew, taking up more and more space until it was almost impossible to breathe.

This was supposed to be your stadium. Your teammates, former teammates you reminded yourself, had often called you the Alexia Putellas or Leah Williamson of Atlético Madrid. Someone that practically bled their team’s color, born and raised there, and honestly set on dying there too.

Not that you had ever been on a level comparable to Alexia or Leah, which had become painfully obvious when Aleti just dropped you like you were a piece of trash. You hadn’t told anyone this yet, but after that conversation you had seriously considered giving up football once and for all. The thought of playing anywhere else had been ripping you apart. But in the end the idea of not playing the sport you loved at all anymore had been even harder to bear.

You thanked your lucky star that you at least made it to your seat without anyone approaching you. At this point you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep it together if anyone spoke to you. Maybe the people around you could read as much on your face because you could definitely hear some whispering and felt a lot of gazes resting on you, but miraculously people kept their distance.

Although it was possible you were wrong about seemingly everyone watching you. You didn’t look around to check if the stares you could feel were actually real, instead you made sure to keep your eyes carefully trained on the pitch, avoiding making eye contact with anyone, which might inadvertently give them the courage to come up to you.

So you sat there, totally rigid, every fiber of your body tense, wishing for the seconds to pass by as quickly as possible, but somehow that only made them crawl slower than a snail. Maybe you should just leave, come up with an excuse why you had to go. Was this really worth it?

You got your answer the moment Ana entered the pitch, looking around the stadium searchingly. The instant she spotted you a big smile appeared on the blonde’s face, all of the tightness leaving her body momentarily.

Yes, this was worth it. Ana was worth this and so much more.

You kept thinking of the Swiss woman’s happiness and relief at seeing you when people got bolder during half time, walking up to you to tell you that they missed you at Atlético, that it wasn’t the same without you and that they would never forgive the club for their treatment of you. Empty words since they were here supporting them right now.

Not that you wanted them to turn their backs on the team. You understood having conflicting feelings, your own probably the most complicated of them all. Being back in this stadium you played so many of your games, made you furious and sad, but it also filled you with a longing to go back and brought about a sense of worthlessness. Why hadn’t you been good enough to keep around?

Despite Ana’s best effort to act nonchalant you saw the signs of her struggles clearly, even from the relative distance of the stands. So throughout the entire game you kept watching the blonde like a hawk, as if you could help her feel better about this by some sort of telepathic connection that required a laser like focus on your end.

This way you observed how tense Ana was when her former teammates hugged her, almost reluctant to accept the loving touches because she knew she wasn’t going to see them again anytime soon after this night.

You also saw how lost the Swiss woman looked on the pitch when the game started. As if she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that she was on the field with the Barça girls, but not as their teammate.

And you noticed that Ana avoided looking over to the traveling Barcelona fans until the game was finished, despite them chanting her name several times. Only once the final whistle was blown did she go over. It seemed impossible from your spot practically on the other side of the stadium, but you were sure you saw the Swiss woman holding back tears as she thanked them profusely.

You kept on watching while Ana talked with her former teammates. She smiled while chatting, but it was a smile filled with sadness. You briefly wondered if the Barça girls could see that as well. Did they even care? Even though you knew this wasn’t their fault at all, you felt an irrational anger towards them. How could they move on from Ana so quickly? They should have raised hell!

If you would have paid the Barça players any attention you would have seen the unhappiness and concern on their faces, clearly missing the Swiss woman a great deal. However your focus lay solely on the blonde.

The moment Ana disappeared into the tunnels, you also began making your way out of the stadium, keeping your head down and brushing off everyone that tried to initiate a conversation with you. They probably thought you were being rude, but you didn’t care. You were on a mission to get to Ana’s car, the agreed upon meeting point, as soon as possible.

If you would have stopped and thought about it for a second you would have realized that there was no way she would be there anytime soon. The Swiss woman still had to shower and stay around for the post match talk, so really there was no rush. Still, you hurried there as fast as you could.

And to be honest you also felt much more comfortable in the parking lot, an area off limits to the public, than in the stadium surrounded by so many curious fans. They had all been friendly and every single one that had spoken to you had stated that they were on your ‘side’, but nonetheless it was a constant reminder of your unwilling departure from your childhood club. And if it were up to you this subject would stay buried underneath heaps of pretending.

Therefore you worked hard to keep your mind away from your own dark thoughts while you waited for Ana, focusing instead on contemplating every possible emotional state the blonde could be in and how you could be a good distraction for her tonight. Because even though the two of you had to leave for your respective national teams tomorrow you had decided to spend the evening together, maybe even have a sleepover.

When the Swiss woman appeared, the first one from the team to get to the parking lot, she was a little out of breath and looked drained. Not physically, but emotionally. You debated giving her a hug, however Ana decided for you by walking directly towards the driver seat and slipping in without pausing for a second.

You assumed that she was just eager to leave, perhaps scared that one of her former teammates would catch up to her and would want to have a prolonged conversation. That was definitely something you were a little anxious about yourself with your own former teammates. Therefore the quick departure suited you just fine.

And when you caught a glimpse of some of your former teammates entering the car park as you drove off, you thanked Ana in your mind.

The truth was that the Swiss woman had actually done it for you. Throughout the night she didn’t have the same opportunity to continuously watch you as you had, but still she kept glancing over at you any chance she got. And Ana had noticed instantly that you didn’t feel comfortable, everything about your posture and your expression had screamed that you wanted to leave. So she had made sure to rush and get you out of there as quickly as she could.

During the car ride home you kept up a constant stream of light chatter, hoping that it posed a good enough distraction for your companion. Now that she was so close, you didn’t dare to outright stare at her like you had done during the game, but with some quick glances now and then you ensured that Ana looked mostly calm, not really happy though.

At your apartment you had everything waiting for a cozy movie night. You ushered Ana to sit down and relax, while you whirled around the apartment getting everything ready. It didn’t take long since you had prepared what you could before leaving for the game.

Once you sat down and flicked on the TV, turning to the Swiss woman with a slightly forced smile, you noticed that something wasn’t right. Ana was chewing her lips nervously, tapping the tips of her fingers together in quick succession.

“Is everything okay?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. “No wait, I’m sorry, forget that. Let’s just watch the movie, hopefully that will be a good distraction and if not, just tell me. Then we can try something else. Maybe play a game? Or just go to sleep?“

Ana sighed deeply, unhappiness etched on her usually so happy face. Anxiety began freezing your veins; you weren’t doing a good enough job at distracting her. You weren’t good enough.

“Look I know I said that stupid thing about preferring distractions once but I didn’t mean it. I just said it because…” Ana trailed off, looking very uncertain if she should continue.

“What?”

That was the only thing you could think of. The idea that all this time you hadn’t actually been giving the blonde what she craved most, felt like a stab through the middle of your heart. But even more so you wondered, if you hadn’t than why had she still been hanging out with you?

Apparently Ana decided that she did want to explain her reasoning some more. She took a deep breath before she continued talking.

“I only said it because I felt so bad complaining about my transfer to Atlético to you of all people. But I’ve regretted it almost every time we’ve hung out. Because I want to talk with you about it, I want to talk about everything with you. And most of all I want you to talk to me about your own unwanted transfer and how it makes you feel. But I felt weird pushing you to open up about it after I said I didn’t want to talk about mine.”

There was too much in Ana’s explanation that you didn’t know how to deal with, so you focused on the things that were easy for you, “You know you can always talk to me about anything. Please never feel bad about that, I’m always happy to listen! And don’t worry about me, I’m totally fine with my transfer. These things happen and it’s not like Real is a bad team or anything, so I can’t really complain.”

That was a flat out lie of course, you had been complaining a lot about your transfer and you definitely still had strong feelings about it, all of them bad. But Ana didn’t need to worry about that, not when she was struggling with her own club situation.

The Swiss woman scooted closer to you, putting a hand on your thigh. She looked at you seriously and you knew instantly that the Swiss woman didn’t believe a word you had just said.

“Don’t do that, please. It’s okay to struggle. It’s okay to feel bad after being dropped by your club, I know I do and my connection to Barcelona wasn’t even a deep as yours with Atléti.”

The softness of Ana’s voice combined with her words, words that you had been craving to hear for the longest time, brought tears to your eyes. You blinked furiously to get rid of them and quickly diverted your gaze, hopefully blocking the Swiss woman from seeing your watery eyes. Of course you had no such luck.

Ana closed the last few centimeters of distance between you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Still, you didn’t turn to meet her eyes. You were fine. The transfer didn’t bother you. At least not enough to cry about it to the Swiss woman.

“Maybe tonight we can just be sad together? I think we both need that,” Ana suggested, her voice quivering.

This made you look up. When you saw that the blonde’s own eyes were also filled with tears your resolve to be strong crumbled. If Ana needed this than you would give it to her. And if it just so happened to align with what you longed for as well that was just a lucky coincidence.

“Okay,” you mumbled and that was all Ana needed. She drew you against her, practically pulling you into her lap.

You held out a second longer but when you felt Ana’s body shaking from her sobs and heard her crying, you didn’t bother to hold yourself back any longer, letting your own tears fall.

And that’s how you stayed for a long time, the two of you falling apart in each other’s arms. You didn’t really talk about anything that night, simply relocating to your bedroom and falling asleep in each other‘s arms once all the tears had been shed.

That was a first for the two of you. At every sleepover before you had kept a careful distance, both of you sleeping on their designated side of the bed, but that night nothing was keeping you apart.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #ana maria crnogorcevic x reader

161 notes · View notes