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#eventual smut
mattslolita · 2 days
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psycho killer - c. sturniolo ( intro. )
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in which ... a killer is terrorizing the town of boston and charmaine soon realizes she's the final girl in his twisted game.
ghostface!chris x black!fem oc
warnings ; blood , gore , death , eventual smut , angst , ghostface!chris , final girl! oc
"𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒆!"
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰
𝒁aria 𝑺imone as 𝑪harmaine 𝑰rie 𝑬vans
The Final Girl. I Did Something Bad.
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𝑪hristopher 𝑺turniolo as 𝑯imself
The Boyfriend. Disturbia.
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( everyone else as themselves! )
playlist :
( 001 ). psycho killer - talking heads
( 002 ). in my room - insane clown posse
( 003 ). all-american bitch - olivia rodrigo
( 004 ). pacify her - melanie martinez
( 005 ). all i wanted - paramore
( 006 ). favorite crime - olivia rodrigo
( 007 ). i did something bad - taylor swift
( 008 ). disturbia - rihanna
( 009 ). na na - trey songz
( 010 ). heaven - julia michaels
( 011 ). friends - chase atlantic
( 012 ). gasoline - halsey
( 013 ). starboy - the weeknd
( 014 ). tag, your it - melanie martinez
( 015 ). heads will roll - yeah yeah yeahs
( 016 ). heathens - twenty one pilots
( 017 ). daddy issues - the neighborhood
( 018 ). dollhouse - melanie martinez
( 019 ). doin time - lana del rey
( 020 ). kill bill - sza
( 021 ). criminal - britney spears
( 022 ). serial killer - lana del rey
( 023 ). mad hatter - melanie martinez
( 024 ). brutal - olivia rodrigo
( 025 ). pumped up kicks - foster the people
( 026 ). woo - rihanna
( 027 ). stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey
( 028 ). sippy cup - melanie martinez
( 029 ). smooth operator - sade
( 030 ). cake - melanie martinez
( 031 ). ready for it? - taylor swift
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱
💌 lil
this fic was on my burner wattpad acc but i missed her, so here she is for y'all to enjoy !😜 most chaps were pre-written, so expect pt. 1 soon😏
for my baes : @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @guccifrog @e1ias3 @mrssturnioloo @prettiest-poision @mattsivy ❤‍🩹
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turtletaubwrites · 2 days
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Misty Eyes ~ Part 3
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THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. *This part contains two Doffy flashbacks with a graphic depiction of violence including blood, murder of an unnamed character, and the reader being sick, as well as implied sexual encounters. Doffy flashback sections are marked between these symbols ~🦩🦩🦩~ so you can skip past them if you'd like. The chapter begins with one of these graphic memories, but ends with some Hurt/Comfort & sweet fluff!
Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)
Word Count: 5768
Misty Eyes Masterlist
Ao3 Link
Summary: You try to acclimate to life aboard this yellow submarine, but your past keeps tearing you apart. All that Doffy made you do feels like a stain on your soul, and you're afraid you'll never be clean.
Author's Note: This one gets really fucked up, but I hope the sweet ending makes up for it! 🖤 I have added the dead dove do not eat tag, so please heed the warnings, and do not read if they might be triggering for you.
Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!
Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags To Be Added
!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
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~🦩🦩🦩~
“Another simple mission too much for you, Y/N?”
Doffy ducked a bit as he sauntered into the room, his voice making your enemy freeze with her sea prism stone blade to your throat.
“Young mast–”
Your target smirked at you, pressing the tip of the blade into your flesh, just enough to cut your words. 
“Are you good and scared,” she taunted, ignoring the powerful man at her back.
Is she fucking stupid? She has to know who he is.
Doffy grinned as he moved closer, until you saw yourself reflected in his sunglasses over your enemy’s head. Neither of the menacing figures before you moved or spoke for a moment, leaving your mind in chaos. 
I failed him again. He’s not helping me. Why would he? I’m worthless. 
The woman chuckled, showing no fear as the future king of the pirates towered over her. Until his large hand fisted her hair, lifting her until her toes barely touched the ground. A shocked cry left her lips, her satisfied smirk torn away as she struggled to free herself.
“You really can’t do anything on your own, can you?”
Humiliation poured over you, making you wish that the blade had cut you deeper. The prick of blood on your throat wasn’t nearly enough to drown your shame. 
The woman laughed, even as she struggled in Doffy’s grasp. She choked on that laughter as the blade in her hand flew toward her own neck, tugged by invisible strings. 
“Wait, you said–”
Those frantic eyes had tried to look toward the young master, but her words ended as a flood of red left her throat. Doffy laughed, watching your wide eyes while the woman thrashed. The blade clattered to the floor as a rain of bright, hot blood fell upon it. He took a step toward you, letting all that cherry red cascade down your chest as you stared into the woman’s dying eyes.
She reached for you, dragging her nails across your throat.
“You’re really gonna let this trash disrespect our family? Disrespect me,” Doffy questioned, as bile rose in your throat.
“N-No, I’m sorry young–”
“Finish it. Pick up the knife, and gut her.”
The woman was still struggling, still fighting, but you knew it wouldn’t be long. 
I have to prove myself. 
You couldn’t move. 
“Do it, Y/N,” Doffy threatened, his voice low as he shoved her closer. That hot blood poured over your face as he lifted her higher. 
You fell to your knees, somehow finding the blade through the red that had covered your eyes, spitting it out of your mouth as you used the wall to stand back up. 
“There you go. Prove you can do something right, Y/N.”
Blinking through the blood, you held the blade to the woman’s stomach, throwing up before you could pierce her flesh. 
Doffy dropped that lightly twitching body as you started to retch, stepping back to watch you cover your enemy in your own pathetic disgrace. 
Choking on sobs as your stomach emptied over the nearly dead form, you tried to wipe and hide your face. There was no way to hide from Doffy, his manic grin looming near as he crouched beside you. 
“Such a pathetic sight. To think that a member of my family could fail me like this,” he tutted, ripping your heart to shreds. 
“I’m so sorry, young master, I–”
Your fingers slipped in the blood and sick on the floor as you tried to push yourself up, until your body moved on its own. 
No. Not on its own. 
Doffy moved it, his fingers extending as he controlled you. A disgusting marionette, dripping with the evidence of shame. 
“So disappointing.”
The young master’s voice weighed you down, even as he held your body up. He directed your movements, forcing you to walk as though you were proud of the sticky failure on your skin. 
I’m nothing. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve his love. 
~🦩🦩🦩~
“Y/N, hey, you’re okay–” 
“I couldn’t do it, I’m too weak. I’m so sorry, young–”
Nausea tore through you, the fight to keep from being sick bringing you into the present. Into the mist. Law’s soothing voice was too full of concern, and you hated taking down your camouflage. Hated letting him see how weak you were. 
“Y/N, can I check your–”
Law’s fingers were on you as soon as you nodded, slipping along the cold sweat that coated your skin as he checked your temperature and pulse. 
“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice hoarse as if you had been sick. 
His hands guided your trembling body as you sat up, your eyes caught on your own misty fingers. 
Pathetic. 
“Do you… wanna talk about it?”
A sharp laugh escaped you, flooding you with guilt. An apology died in your throat as you rubbed your hands over your arms, sliding through that layer of sweat. 
“Can I take a shower?”
~
The “Surgeon of Death” waited outside the bathroom for you. You thought he was trying to help you feel safe by not letting anyone else in, until you remembered the concern, the pity on his face. 
He’s making sure I don’t hurt myself. 
You couldn’t meet his eyes as he tried to speak to you on the way to the galley, but a tiny smile broke through your heavy shame from Law’s poor attempt at small talk. 
“Good morning, Y/N!” Penguin’s voice was too loud as he leaned close to grab breakfast at the counter. The stuffed penguin on his hat bobbed toward you while he spoke.
“Morning,” you greeted, with far less enthusiasm, only to be met with a small orchestra of cheerful voices calling to you, and their captain. 
“Hope you didn’t mind the captain on your floor last night. He used to snore like a–”
“Penguin,” Law commanded, voice low as he gripped his crew mate’s wrist. 
The man's friendly clap on your back had made your shoulders tense up, your jaw clenching as Doffy’s voice boomed through your mind. 
‘Only I’m allowed to touch my little doll,’ Doffy rasped, pinching your thighs almost too hard as you sat in his lap. You tried not to stare at the blood spreading across the marble floor. ‘I don’t like to share.’
“Sure, sorry captain, sorry Y/N…” Penguin took a step back, dipping his head at Law’s frown.
“It’s okay,” you breathed, your lying smile forming so easily on your face before he led you to a table in the corner, away from his happy crew.
I’m like mist, sucking the joy and beauty out of a sunny place.
“Why don’t we skip the interview today,” Law suggested, tapping his pretty fingers on the table.
“But, don’t you nee–”
“I need you to be okay,” he interrupted, reaching those fingers to touch your wrist gently, barely, before pulling away. “Besides, I have something else in mind.”
Moving through the metal halls felt like a dream, like you’d get lost, and keep walking for years before you woke up. Until he spun the wheel to open a heavy door, leading you into the largest room you’d seen on this underwater ship.
“How nostalgic,” you teased, nodding your head toward the wall of weapons in what was clearly a training room. 
“It’s been a while since you kicked my ass,” he said with a laugh, and you chewed your lip to fight your cheesy smile. He moved down the wall, pulling two daggers free before facing you. “Catch.”
“Wait,” you cried out, ready to move or mist away, but your body acted on its own. You caught the blade he’d thrown your way, gripping it as you smiled to yourself.
“I see you haven’t lost your reflexes,” he hummed, facing off with you.
“What if I had,” you scolded, your free hand on your hip. 
“I knew it couldn’t hurt you. But your enemies might not,” he mused. “Why didn’t you strike? I gave you an opening.”
“What are you–” you laughed, shaking your head at him. “I’m not a fighter anymore. Besides, I don’t want to be mauled by a bear when your crew finds out I tried to attack you.”
His scowl was so sharp, you almost missed his movement. The second blade flew toward you, spinning clear with the ringing of metal as you blocked it with the first dagger.
“What the fuck, Law?”
He ignored you as he pulled a sword from the wall, striding your way with death in his eyes. Your body slid into a stance it hadn’t felt in years, and you gritted your teeth. Barely escaping Law’s attack, you used the dagger to deflect his blade as you rolled away.
“Why are–”
His sword came down over your head, and you misted out of reach, your breath heavy as anger and fear started to build. 
“Law! Why–”
“Why do you keep saying you’re weak?”
You froze, unable to move as he plunged his sword through your chest, meeting nothing but mist.
“What happened to the girl that could kick my ass? Until I’d get her back, of course,” he grinned, offering his hand to help you up. Still frozen, you watched him sigh, dropping the sword as he sat down beside you. 
“Why do you keep saying that you’re weak,” he repeated softly, his gaze stripping you to the bone.
“Because I am weak.”
The words held nothing but truth, a truth you’d long since accepted. 
“Don’t be stupid,” he reprimanded, the insult bringing your eyes to his with a bit of shock and annoyance.
“Is that my doctor’s orders,” you growled, anger showing through your mask for the first time in ages. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you dug your nails into your shins, the comfort of the mild pain helping you stay grounded.  
“Yes,” he deadpanned, your lips parting as you glared. He didn’t drop that judgemental look on his face, and it was too fucking much.
You hid the need to squirm by standing, picking up the weapons to hang back on the wall. The weight of a useless life pushed your shoulders down, until a tattooed hand touched yours, taking one of the daggers from you while you stared at the floor. 
“When we were kids, you were just as strong of a fighter as I was. I don’t understand how that could change, Y/N,” he recalled, voice soft as he touched your chin. His eyes searched yours, as if you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. 
“I know you’re fierce. Pretty sure I’ve still got a few scars from you,” he laughed, that gentle sound making your eyes drift closed, a bittersweet smile on your lips. 
“I’m not fierce,” you confessed, shivering as your skin burned where his fingers still held your chin. “I couldn’t keep up. My powers are so... I kept failing, just like they said I would.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
You almost gaped at him again, but his hand on your chin kept your jaw from dropping. Pulling away, you crossed your arms, that irritation growing. 
“Your bedside manner is shit, you know that?”
“We’re not in bed right now,” he countered, his confident voice cut short by his own awkward cough as he continued. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. I’m not a fighter anymore, Law. I can help you with my memories, you don’t need to do all of this.” He ignored your movements as you gestured to the wall of weapons, falling back into that frown he’s so good at. 
“Get over it.”
“Excuse me?”
He thrust the handle of the dagger into your palm, leaning close. 
“Everyone has to pull their weight on this ship. You’re gonna shadow the crew until we find a job that suits you. You’re gonna sit with me for interviews. And you’re gonna train, just like everyone else,” he commanded, your breath catching as you felt the authority pouring off of him. His fingers were still wrapped around yours, pressing the handle of the blade into your skin.
“Do you under–”
Law grunted with more surprise than pain as your other fist connected with his face. He took a step back, scalding eyes raking over you while he rubbed his jaw, but you cut him off before he could speak. 
“Gotcha, with a capital ‘G,” you declared, moving your arms with the dagger to create a poor image of the letter ‘G.’
Everything else faded from your mind as Law started to laugh, holding himself up with his hands on his knees. You couldn’t help but join him, some good childhood memories finally filling the air between you. 
“Does he still do that,” he asked, still breathless as he fought the laughter.
“Lau G won’t stop doing that until he’s dead and gone.”
He leaned against the wall of weapons, shaking his head as he pulled up ancient memories.
“That old man trained both of us, Y/N. You were neck and neck with me, even though I’d never admit it back then.”
Your face grew hot, hopefully masked by the wheezing laughter you were still recovering from. But shame quickly followed the pride from his praise, so you turned away to stretch, avoiding his discerning eyes.
“Let’s start with hand to hand,” he ordered softly. You let him take the blade from you, meeting him on the mats in the center of the large, echoey room. Bouncing on your heels, you fought to keep yourself in the present. 
‘Can’t take care of a single mission. I’ve never had such a failure in my family before. What should I do with you?’
‘So misty, so flimsy! You’ll never be as strong as us. I bet the young master will throw you out soon.’
‘Why don’t you just focus on being pretty, dear. I heard the young master say that’s all you’re good for.’
“I won’t go easy on you," Law's threat broke through your foggy mind. He smirked, taunting you with a tilt to his head. “Kick my ass.”
Falling into a stance without a thought, you tried to be here, to be nothing but this. You couldn’t make the first move, getting annoyed as Law feinted, tapping you here or there until you finally fought back. 
There he was. That silly, angry boy with that wicked smirk. The smirk that you needed to kick off that pretty face. Two years of rivalry, two years of tiny, vicious preteens sparring daily, came flooding back as the sounds filled the training room. The sounds of fists and shins connecting with bodies, breaths and grunts, snarky remarks and laughter. 
It felt like no time had passed. 
Until you noticed that thought, and shame hit you just before Law tackled you, taking your breath as he rode your body to the ground. 
Coming back to yourself too late, he had you pinned, unable to work your arms or legs to get out of his grasp. 
“I know you can do better than that,” he teased, his black hair caught in the sweat on his forehead as he stared down at you. 
“Go fuck yourself,” you breathed, still winded with his weight on your body.
“With a capital ‘G,” he smirked, too much satisfaction on his face. He laughed as you squirmed harder, trying to free a hand to punch him with. 
Now you were satisfied, hearing him grunt as he struggled to keep you in place. You freed one arm, but before you could make contact, Law changed position. He caught your wrist, his breathing ragged as his face hovered even closer to yours. 
The air was different, shivers running through you as your bodies relaxed into each other. The struggle halted as you felt his breath on your lips. 
His eyes were wide as he took you in, his brows creasing just a bit. Your chest warmed at the memory of a childhood crush, and a quick peck of a kiss before he disappeared. That sweet memory fell apart when he pulled himself off of you, a slight frown on his lips before he turned away. 
Oh. 
“That’s, uh,” he started, walking away as he avoided your gaze, “that’s enough for today. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll get your schedule for tomorrow. Good work, today.”
You held up a polite smile as sharp blades of ice seemed to carve into your empty chest. Wanting Law to kiss you seemed ridiculous. Selfish. You hadn’t realized that your stupid, absent heart was so delusional. And now you knew exactly why you shouldn’t think about him that way. 
He’s disgusted by me. I’ll always be tainted. Ruined. I’m lucky he hasn’t put me out of my misery yet. Why would Law want to touch trash like me?
The thoughts crashed into you, and the moment wouldn’t stop replaying. The press of him, his amber eyes, the sweat and breath mixing between you. 
And that frown as he pulled away. 
It played on a loop as you walked through the submarine, repeating through another shower, a nearly silent lunch in the galley, and the tour. Law guided you with a hand drawn map, labeled with the various stations, and the crew members you’d be shadowing. A detailed weekly schedule filled the back of the paper, and you let out a quiet laugh at his attention to detail.
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, teacher,” you teased, breathing deep when he finally looked at you again. 
“It’s captain,” he corrected as he pointed to the schedule. “You’ll be with Ikkaku tomorrow morning, then if you’re up for it, I'd like to do another interview.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
Just a twitch of his lips this time, but it was a relief. Until he left you in the galley with the crew, excusing himself to complete some “captain’s duties.”
He doesn’t even want to eat with me now. I probably make him sick.
“Hi, Y/N, you can sit with me! You know, if you want to…” Bepo trailed off, flipping from excited to glum in seconds. 
“Thank you, Bepo,” you agreed, donning your cheerful voice as you sat across from him. 
“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Penguin said as he sat beside you, still too close for comfort after years of Doffy’s rules. “The captain’s the only one that taught us any manners, but I guess I still need some practice.”
“It’s al–”
“Give her some space, you’re being a creep,” Shachi cut in, sitting across from Penguin as he pointed a fork his way. 
“I’m not a creep, you jerk–”
“The captain said to behave ourselves,” Bepo scolded, and you found a real smile on your lips as you saw the concern on his cute, furry face.
“Hey, you’re with me tomorrow, right?”
Ikkaku waved over the bear's shoulder, her dark brown curls making her instantly recognizable. You confirmed with a nod while the three boys at the table kept bickering. 
“Let’s go talk about it.”
Arguments and insults floated through the air, and you were grateful for the rescue as you joined the only other non-man on the ship. She smirked as she nodded her head toward her crew mates.
“Don’t mind the dumbasses, they’re harmless.”
“Thanks,” you laughed, your appetite returning as you watched Ikkaku take a large bite, rolling her eyes at Bepo’s table. 
Comfortable quiet sat with you, and you finally felt a moment of ease in your new world. Even with Law, you felt this energy of holding yourself up, of presenting yourself how you wanted him to see you. But this relaxed woman seemed friendly as she dug into her meal, without the pressure of a smile. She didn’t watch you, or force you into small talk, even when you followed her out of the galley to point out where you’d be working in the morning. 
“I’m ‘Weps,’ so I’ll be showing you how to spot and kill enemies. Hopefully we’ll always be bored,” she huffed, pointing vaguely toward her station before guiding you back to the barracks. 
“That’s you, right,” she asked, tapping on your door. “I’ll yell when it’s time to go.”
“Thank you,” you squeaked, staring for a moment as she turned away. 
That small metal room seemed to amplify your worst thoughts, your loneliness echoing through the air like some torturous bell. You wished you had some sort of drug to knock yourself out. Instead, you curled on your side, trying not to think about how Law had cared enough to sleep on your floor last night, but could barely look at you after your near touch earlier. 
~🦩🦩🦩~
“Don’t get all misty-eyed. That man should have known better than to touch my pretty doll,” Doffy declared, crouching down to press his palm into the sticky red puddle.
The blood of an unlucky man. A friendly man that tried to help you stay balanced while you walked down a flight of stairs in too-high heels. 
“No one else will ever touch you,” Doffy breathed, pressing his bloody palm to your chest. He licked his lips as he dragged his fingers higher, painting your skin. 
Doffy loves me. He’ll be King. Kings have to do this. They have to enforce their–
Your deep breaths and calming thoughts halted as his sticky hand gripped your face, digging into your cheeks to tilt your face up to his.
No more misty eyes.
You felt pride for your lack of tears, and for the smile he gave before he smoothed the hair from your face.
“You’re so pretty when you listen to me,” he praised, his grin deepening when he heard your pleased hum. “You know I’ll have to kill you too, right? You're my doll now. Letting someone touch you with their grubby fingers, and defile my toy sounds like another failure, huh, misty eyes?”
A soft noise escaped your lips as you struggled to be strong for him. 
“Well,” he seethed, the veins in his forehead bulging as he shook your face in his bloody grip, “does my pretty doll have anything to say?”
“I-I’m yours, Doffy,” you promised, keeping your eyes dry as your body went loose, leaning into his hold. 
“My body belongs to you, young mast– Doffy. I’d rather die than let someone defile your property.”
A bruising kiss took your breath, and you whined for him as he laid you on the marble floor. That spill of red beside you had finally stopped flowing. 
“Don’t forget that, Y/N. I’m the only one that gets to defile my pretty doll. My disgusting, little toy. No one would want to touch you anyway. Not if they knew what you let me do to you.”
Doffy laughed as he proved it to you.
And you kept your eyes dry.
~🦩🦩🦩~
Last night, your mind had chosen memories over dreams. The lights and sounds of the sonar were lovely, yet too soothing, and Ikkaku caught you shaking yourself as you held in a yawn. 
“Come on,” she ordered as she pushed you out of the weapons room, leading you through the halls. You pressed your fingers into your brow, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, not realizing where she was taking you until she called through a familiar door.
“Captain, I need to report a crew member who’s unfit for duty.”
“Wait, what,” you cried out, cutting off your own yawn as she rolled her eyes at you. 
Law opened the door, his eyes narrowing on you before he looked at her.
“What’s your report?”
“Y/N was doing well with sonar, but she's clearly sleep deprived. There's no yawning at my weapons station, Captain.”
Ikkaku softened her report by flashing you a tiny smile, but your shoulders slumped in embarrassment. 
“Thank you for the report,” Law cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes as he focused on her. “We’ll try again tomorrow. You’re dismissed, Ikkaku.”
She patted your back as she passed, her gesture of comfort lost as your body tensed at the touch. 
With a shaky breath, you turned to him, staring at his tattooed arms that flexed as they crossed below his chest. 
I didn’t mind when he touched me.
That thought was bittersweet, the bitter turning to bile when you remembered him pulling away. 
“Come in,” he gestured into the office, and you stepped back into your memories. A shrine to Doffy, even if it was built of hate. 
“How much sleep did you get last night,” he spoke like a doctor, scrutinizing every movement as you sat down across his desk. 
“How would I know? There’s no clock in there.”
Somehow, his frown deepened, and you let out a heavy sigh. 
“Did you sleep at all?”
The touch of warmth in his voice filled the cold room, but you didn’t want it. You couldn’t truly have it. So you let the truth ring through your mind as you lied again.
All I am is the broken toy of the man he despises. 
“I’m sorry. I’ll be okay.”
Your eyes slid away, seeing nothing as you pretended to be fine. Yet, you blinked slowly when he stood, his chair scraping along the floor before he came to kneel beside you.
Time seemed fuzzy, but after a while you heard his voice, low and steady. 
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
Too tired and stuck for anything except for the faint quivering of your bottom lip, you stayed silent. 
“Is it…” he cleared his throat, flexing his hands before he went on. “Is it alright if I hug you?”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tried to cover his worry in a soothing tone as tears and small choked sounds left your throat. “We don’t need to–”
“Please.”
That tiny, pathetic word left your lips, and you felt sick for asking for anything. Sick for forcing him to take care of you. 
But you didn’t fight as he pulled the chair out, as he knelt to the side of your knees, as he touched long fingers to your cheek. 
“Is it alright if I hug you,” he asked again in a whisper. You were too weak to protect him from you, nodding slowly until you felt more of his touch. 
He pulled you gently forward, your arms limp as he wrapped his around your waist, letting your head rest on his shoulder. 
“You’re okay,” he soothed, sliding a palm between your shoulder blades. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Denials and arguments struggled to leave your lips, anger and fear fighting for control. 
But you were so tired. 
And Law felt so warm, so solid, his smell familiar, yet new. He squeezed you tighter as your breath sped up, holding you still, until you held him too.
He didn’t let go as you dripped hot tears onto his neck. He didn’t let go when you clung to him, digging your fingers into his arms and shoulders. He didn’t let go as your cries flipped from silent to pleading, as you begged for his forgiveness, or choked over the fears and shame you carried. 
Through every round of emotions, you would return to guilt and disgust.
“I’m sorry, Law, I’m sick. You shouldn't be... I’m sorry you have to touch me.”
“Why are you saying that,” he nearly growled, holding your head against him to keep you from leaving his grasp. 
You had no idea how long you’d made him care for you, how many tears you’d let stain his shirt. But however long it had been, you were finally able to speak some of it clearly. 
“You hate him,” you said, your feeble voice breaking between your haggard breaths, “and I’m his… I’m broken. I’m disgust–”
“Shut up.”
A surprised yelp stopped your words, the force of his grip catching your breath. 
Law’s fingers dug into your skin as he pressed you against him, almost to the point of pain, and your mind froze as you waited for him. 
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he declared, forcing the words through his teeth. “I don’t give a shit about what he did to you. I don’t care what he made you do. It wasn’t your fault, you hear me?”
There was anger in his words, but you knew it wasn’t for you. Still, you were stunned, feeling his heavy breaths beating against your chest. 
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he buried his face into your neck before pulling away. It was almost painful losing his warmth against you, but he took your hands in his. He seemed to be having more trouble meeting eyes than you were, and you started sinking into the chair while he cleared his throat a few times. 
“When I found out that you’d… That he’d… I should have saved you, Y/N. But I decided not to care about you so I could focus on my mission. I let him–”
“Stop,” you cried out, shaking your head against the guilt in his voice. “I wouldn’t have come with you before. I don’t even know when things started to change. But I would have betrayed you. I wanted to be… I’m glad you didn’t find me sooner, Law. I just wish–”
You cut yourself off, melting into his golden eyes. A stolen moment of peace amidst the guilt and pain. 
“What do you wish,” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands.
“... I don't think broken people get wishes.”
He gave a jaded laugh before standing, leaning against the desk while he rubbed his knees. 
“Will it help you sleep if I stay on your floor tonight?”
You smirked at his soft words, looking from his knees up to his face before responding. 
“I don’t know, old man. I don’t think it’ll be good for your joints.” The look on his face was perfect, and a real laugh left your raw throat, shaking your tired body. 
“We’re the same age,” he countered, eyes wide with that manic grin, “and disrespecting your captain is a punishable offense.”
“I see how it is,” you teased, lightly poking his side. “Still can’t come up with a good comeback, so you threaten me with violence? Looks like you haven’t changed a bit, you– Law!”
He’d grabbed your wrist before going to his knees again, those pretty fingers searching your ribs for the perfect spot. You writhed and laughed, and failed to fight him off as he tickled you, the way he used to when he couldn’t outsmart you. 
“Law, you–”
“Fuck, sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
Law pressed himself against the desk, still on his knees with his hands held up, his eyes wide and worried as he looked at you. 
You cracked up, true, heavy laughter, until his lips curled into that evil little smirk. But you beat him to it, sliding to the ground to get him back, tickling and getting a good squirm out of him before you both attacked. 
He growled as he laughed, grappling you to the side of the chair until he had you pinned to the ground again. Neither of you could tickle the other as you fought for control or freedom. His cheeks were flushed as he laughed in your face, giving you a snarky, “nuh uh,” when you failed to break loose. 
His tongue pressed between his teeth as he gloated, that cocky grin fading as you melted into each other again. 
“I–I’m sorry,” he sighed, shifting his weight to leave. 
“Don’t be sorry,” you demanded, breathless, and aching for him to stay. “I want…”
You closed your eyes, guilt and shame sliding into your lungs again. 
His weight shifted, settling back where he was before. You bit your lip when you saw him staring at your mouth, and heat filled your body as you became hyper aware of every detail of his gorgeous face. 
“You want,” he rasped as he met your eyes, concern still pouring from his own.
Your words were choked by all those shitty feelings and doubts. 
“It’s okay, Y/N.”
His gentle voice eased the tension in your body, and you were grateful that he hadn’t moved. That he still touched you. 
He was still touching you even though you were broken.  
“I want you to kiss me.” 
~🖤🖤🖤~
You’d ordered the stupid boy to kiss you, your arms crossed as you tried to act like you didn’t care. He’d lost the bet, and had to do whatever you asked. 
“Ew, gross! I’m not doing that.”
Law stuck his tongue out, pretending to be sick.
“You lost the bet,” you scolded, punching his shoulder. “Want me to tell everyone you’re an oathbreaker?”
“Why do you wanna kiss me anyway? I’m sick,” he questioned, a hint of hurt in his voice as he gestured to the pale spots on his face. 
“I don’t care if you’re sick. I like you how you are.” The confession slipped out, and heat rushed to your face as you clamped your hands over your mouth.
“You like me,” he taunted, smirking as he poked your burning cheek. “Ha, you’re such a girl.”
“Am not,” you yelled, your hands going misty with embarrassment. 
“So, all I gotta do is kiss you, and we’ll be square?”
You nodded quickly, not sure if you should trust him. 
“Fine,” he complained, leaning in. 
You didn’t know what the big deal was about kissing. His lips were cold and scratchy when he pressed them against yours for a few seconds, then he scowled at you as he pulled away. 
“That was dumb,” he deadpanned, poking your side. 
“You’re dumb!”
He stuck his tongue out at you, and you chased Law down until he swore to never tell a soul. 
~🖤🖤🖤~
“Ew, gross,” Law grinned, your mouth falling open in shock. 
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he teased, moving his smug face closer to yours. “Kissing you sounds gross.”
“You fucking ass,” you seethed, struggling to get out of his grapple so you could punch him. “I can’t believe–”
He let out a needy sound as he crashed his lips onto yours, and you moaned against him. Your back arched when he released his hold on your arms to cradle your face. 
A sob of relief escaped you, and you felt like you’d lost your mind, your hands clawing at his back to pull him closer. 
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours. “I should–”
“No more ‘sorry's,” you ordered, “I just want you to kiss me.”
Law chuckled, his voice coming back in a wicked rasp. 
“Ew, gross.”
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Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!
a/n: Sorry about the gruesome, but I hope you enjoyed the wholesome Law with his childhood sweetheart. I adore this man 🥰
Note for the timeline: The childhood flashback occurred shortly before Cora took Law away, so both the reader and Law had known each other over 2 years, and were both between 12-13 yrs old. At the present time in the story, both the reader and Law are around 25 years old.
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Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass
Part 4
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Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.
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| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
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Text
Kinkmas (2)- Naughty Or Nice?
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Wanda X Natasha X Reader 18+
Summary-  Whilst being blindfolded and tied up, your girlfriends ask you whether you think you deserve to be on the naughty list. Naively, you say no, only to fall into their trap...
Word Count- 4K
Warnings/Tags: 18+ Smut, Threesome, Dom WandaNat/Sub Reader, Blindfolds, Restraints, Safe words, Choking, Punishments, Edging, Orgasm Delay, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Degrading, Oral Sex, Strap-Ons, Begging, Praise Kink, Brief Fluff
Kinkmas Masterlist
Darkness surrounded your vision as you knelt on the bed, a black silk tie wrapped securely around your eyes and a red one wrapped around your wrists, binding them together behind your back. You had been left to wait on the bed for your girlfriends to return, the few minutes feeling like hours as your knees pressed into the soft mattress under you, your chest rising and falling with laboured breaths as you tried to control your excitement and anticipation, ears intensely listening out for any sign of them.
With how long they took, arousal pooled between your legs, thighs slick with wetness as you fantasised about what they would do to you, what you wanted them to do to you all night long.
You imagined their fingers, their mouths, fuck even their straps filling you up in multiple positions, hands roaming your skin while filthy words gracefully spilled from their lips, the thought causing you to squeeze your legs together to help alleviate the intolerable heat in your lower abdomen.
The feeling of the bed dipping from both sides surprised you, too lost in your lustful thoughts to hear them approaching, your head naturally turning towards where the noises were coming from. A hand placed itself against your jaw, fingers splayed across the underside of it, guiding your face forwards as a body pressed into your back, your breath hitching at the feeling of bare skin pressing against yours, the sensation engraved into your mind as their touch sent butterflies swarming throughout you.
The fingers at your face softly caressed your skin as your lips parted to let out a shaky breath, the two women smirking at your submissive form all tied up for them to play with.
"Hey Detka," Wanda softly murmurs out, her thumbs moving to brush over your cheek, her eyes raking over your bare body, her smirk growing a little at the sight of your legs pressed tightly together, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. "Colour?" she asks, letting her thumb move to brush over your lip, dragging your bottom one down before releasing it, Natasha moving her hands to glide around your body, snaking around your lower abdomen and pulling you slightly closer to her body, her hot breath tickling the side of your neck as her lips ghost your skin.
"Green," you sigh out in a barely audible whisper, scared to speak any louder as your heart drums against your chest, waiting for them to touch you.
"Good girl," Natasha praises in a sultry tone, a small affected noise escaping you as you feel her hands slide up your body, teasingly and purposely not reaching high enough to cup your breasts before moving down to your thighs, her hands resting on them as her mouth moves to your ear, teeth nibbling on your earlobe momentarily, a soft sigh leaving her lips to tease you further. "Have you been naughty or nice recently, Krasotka?" she asks with a hint of playfulness to her tone, her emerald eyes meeting the darkening green opposite her as Wanda watches amused at how sensitive to her touch you already seem to be, breath hitching when the witch's hand travels lower, resting on the base of your neck and keeping you facing forwards.
Wanda notices the small smile that plays on your lips at Natasha's festive words, entertained and excited at her sexual undertone to it as you carefully choose your answer.
"Nice," you whisper out, a gasp leaving you at the warm feeling of Natasha's mouth placing a lewd kiss to your neck and Wanda's hand applying a little more pressure to your neck.
"Speak up Detka," Wanda reminds you, knowing exactly what you said and wanting you to fall for the trap.
"Nice," you repeat a little louder, "I've been good," you add, tilting your head marginally to the side to accommodate more of Natasha's arousing kisses, the feeling of her tongue swiping over your skin addictive, her teeth occasionally grazing you making your thighs press harder against each other.
At your answer, you miss the way both of their smirks turn predatory, dominance swirling in their eyes as Wanda merely bites her lip in excitement. Oh they were going to ruin you.
"Is that so Detka?" Wanda purrs out, her tone containing hints of danger as arousal floods through you, the soft tone from early gone as power radiates off of her. "I'm not sure that's true," she says, prompting you to think again about your answer, the recent events flickering through your mind.
Fuck.
Stark's Christmas Party.
"That's it," Wanda mutters, hearing your thoughts. "Stark's Party."
"I-"
"Apologies aren't going to get you anywhere Krasotka," Natasha husks out, using her hands to part your thighs, fingers teasingly stroking the skin of your inner thighs, feeling your arousal that's coated them. "You wanted a reaction out of us, acting like such a brat, but we didn't give you one, did we?"
"No," you say, voice wavering as all you can focus on is her hands so close to where you desperately need her, body aching for their touch, yearning for pleasure to course through you.
"What did we do instead?" Wanda asks, relishing in your nervous but aroused form, entranced by the way your body practically buzzes with anticipation.
Your mind flickers back to the night, remembering how you tried your best to get a reaction out of them by disobeying a few of their rules for the night, purposely pushing their buttons, wanting them to snap and fuck you roughly, make you scream their names all night long and show you that you belonged to them. Instead, they were soft with you, they gave you everything you wanted and didn't once tease or edge you, your mind now only realising it was a trick to make you think you had gotten away with it without punishment.
"You... You gave me everything I wanted, everything I asked for," you say, both of them smiling as they sense your moment of realisation, a low chuckle escaping Natasha.
"That's right," she murmurs, pressing one last kiss to your neck before replacing Wanda's hand at your throat, turning your head so that your lips were millimetres away from hers, making you want to chase them. "Now, I think Wanda and I are owed a punishment, don't you?"
You nod in response, not sure you could form words right now as you could imagine her smug smile and Wanda's eyes watching you attentively, admiring your reaction to Natasha's words.
"Words Detka," Wanda says, replacing Natasha's hands between your legs, nails scratching your skin softly, leaving faint red marks in their trails.
"Yes, I deserve to be punished," you're tone nothing but submissive, laced with desperation as your mind fogged with delirium at every scorching touch.
"Good girl," Wanda whispers, Natasha's lips brushing your own, a whimper leaving you as you couldn't stand anymore teasing, your body needing them to touch you. "Don't even think about coming until we say so," her accent wrapping around her words sultrily, adding a low rasp that has you whining in response, the redhead's lips claiming yours to silence you.
Natasha's mouth was warm, wet and addictive, her lips perfectly moving against yours in a lewd and sinful manner, stealing your breath away as her tongue slid into your mouth, effortlessly dominating the kiss. While your lips messily met the redhead's over and over again, Wanda moved her fingers to meet your dripping core, gently sliding the tip of her digits over your sensitive folds, a moan escaping you that was swallowed by the redhead's relentless mouth.
"Spread your legs for Wanda," Natasha pants against your lips, one hand resting on your neck, the other sliding down and patting your thigh, motioning for you to separate them further.
"Wider," Wanda encourages, a low curse leaving you as Natasha's hand ventures back up your body, cupping your breast firmly, earning a groan in response while Wanda drags the pad of her finger up your core to circle your clit at a torturous pace, her hand grabbing your chin and directing you away from Natasha's lips to her own.
Her kisses are sensual and soft as sighs escape her and you, her finger gliding back down your wet sex to your entrance, sliding her finger in effortlessly to cause a pleasurable buzz to flow throughout your body.
"Fuck," you moan against her lips, Wanda swallowing each and every sound out of you, her kisses turning hungry as your hips rocked against her hand, hands forming fists behind your back. "Please," you whimper as her touch wasn't enough and she knew that, Wanda continuing to slowly thrust her finger in and out of your soaking cunt, curling it at your sweet spot to hear you groan desperately into her mouth, her eyes meeting Natasha's who was currently marking your neck.
The redhead's hands continued to tease your chest, pinching and pulling on your nipples to have your back arch closer into Wanda's body, the witch's free hand moving to slide across your cheek, fingers tangling in your hair, keeping your head in place as your hips rolled against her, struggling to kiss her back at the way your head was spinning.
"Please," Wanda mocks, tone condescending and sending a flood of arousal through you, a pathetic whimper escaping you as her fingers tighten in your locks briefly. "So desperate... You're just a slut for us to ruin, aren't you?"
"Yes," you sigh out immediately, her sliding another figure into you, stretching out beautifully while Natasha bites down softly on your neck, ensuring you knew you were theirs. "Your slut," you pant out, trying to chase Wanda's lips as she pulled back, admiring the scene of you and Natasha in front of her.
"Ours," Natasha murmurs against your skin, Wanda smirking at the redhead who moves her kisses up along your neck, then along your jaw till her mouth reaches your ear, letting out a small moan at the way you whine.
You wish you could see the state of yourself right now, body marked by the redhead's mouth, hips rocking unabashedly against Wanda's hand as you chase your release, the muscles in her forearm flexing slightly as she fingers you expertly, giving you enough to have you on edge but not enough to fall over and crash into you release.
"Wanda," you moan out and she knows just by your tone what you're asking for, the heat in your lower abdomen unbearable as her fingers curl inside you, sparking pleasure and euphoria as you desperately need more to come all over her hand.
Speeding up her actions a little, you were naïve enough to think she had taken mercy on you, giving you that little bit more that you craved as your mouth parted, unable to control the string of moans escaping you at the feeling of teetering on the edge.
"Shit, Just like that, Plea-No, no, please," your sighs of pleasure turn to begging as her fingers slide out of you, hips bucking against the air as she edges you, a cruel but loving smile on her face as your hands struggle behind your back, wanting to reach out to her body and pull her back.
"That's one," Natasha whispers into your ear, a displeased noise leaving you as you lean back against her body, frustration flowing through you at being denied. Her fingers then move to your hands, untying the red silk binding your wrists, her fingers deftly massaging where the tie was before instructing you. "Hands and knees Krasotka," she murmurs before kissing your cheek, Wanda guiding you into position as you still couldn't see, her hands guiding you to settle in a position where you could eat her out while Natasha was behind you, the spy currently putting on the harness, ready to fill you up.
Fingers threaded through your hair as your arms locked around Wanda's thighs, her hands guiding you closer to her core, not letting you please her yet, too busy admiring the sight of you obediently letting them use you.
"Fuck Detka," Wanda moans when she finally lets you swipe your tongue through her dripping folds, a moan escaping you at her heavenly taste. Her hips immediately bucked up, teasing you having turned her on immensely, arousal coating your mouth as you kissed her wet core repeatedly, addicted and starved of her. The sinful noises leaving her lips only fuelled your desire to please her and taste her come dripping onto your tongue.
A broken moan escaped you when you felt Natasha drag the tip of the strap on across your folds, teasing your entrance as she slowly thrusted it in, letting you adjust to the large toy.
"Come on Detka, you can do better than this," Wanda teases you as your mouth rests at her inner thigh, hot breath fanning across her skin as you try to function with the feeling of Natasha slowly pulling the toy out and thrusting back in, nothing but pleasure filling your mind.
"Keep going Krasotka," Natasha reminds you as your mouth returns to Wanda, her head lolling back against the mattress, showing off her sharp jawline to Natasha as she picks up the pace of her hips, snapping the toy into you and revelling in the moans leaving you both.
"Just like that, good girl," Wanda praises, fingers guiding your head to where she wants you as your tongue swipes over her clit, swirling over it in a way that causes her back to arch off the bed, pleasure and arousal building between her thighs. Her words encourage you, mouth wrapping softly around her sensitive sex and sucking, her hips bucking against your face as a guttural noise leaves her, a similar one leaving you as Natasha's hands move to grip your hips, her thrusts more powerful as she pounds the toy into you.
"Nat," you pant out against Wanda's core, the witch groaning at the sound of you moaning the other woman's name while between her legs, her hips grinding against your tongue as you flatten it for her, too busy focussing on the toy being buried deep inside you.
"You can take it," the redhead pants, watching as your greedy cunt swallows the toy up, your arousal glistening in the dim light of the room, a loud moan from Wanda gaining the redhead's attention.
Her free hand moves to her chest, hips fucking your face as you let her use you however she wants, arousal practically coating your chin while she chases her high.
"Fuck, don't stop," she groans out, fingers holding your head still as you continue doing what you were doing, letting her fall over the edge with a guttural moan, her back arching further off the bed as her legs trembled and closed briefly around your head, pleasure filling her. You listened to every soft pant that left her, every hitch of her breath as you didn't stop your actions, moving your tongue around her slowly to begin with before thrusting it into her, moaning at the taste of her cum and the feeling of Natasha sliding a hand around your body, her finger working on your clit perfectly.
Your hips pushed back against hers as she kept up her merciless pace, your own release building within you swiftly as the toy reached deeper inside you, hitting all of your sweet spots at the same time.
"You're taking me so well Krasotka," she praises, causing you to whimper into Wanda's core, earning a lewd noise from her as you try your best to continue eating her out, pleasure and the desire to come clouding your mind.
"Nat, I- Fuck, Please," you plead, hands gripping Wanda's thighs a little tighter as you move your tongue to lap at her clit, switching to a slower pace as you were struggling to think straight with the redhead pounding into you.
"Hold it," she rasps out, tone laced with dominance as you whimper and whine, legs trembling making her hand support your body, Wanda's hands moving to interlock with yours, comforting you as you try to delay your orgasm.
"I can't," you're tone desperate as you move your head to rest against Wanda's thigh, her fingers soothingly scratching your scalp as she can hear your thoughts and the concentration of trying to obey Natasha, needing to please them both and be their good girl.
When another desperate and pathetic whimper leaves you, signalling how close you were to coming, Natasha pulls the toy out of you, her hands holding your body as your legs tremble at being denied again, another frustrated noise leaving you. Your head rests against Wanda's thigh as you whine, hips pushing back into the redhead's body in search of friction, her hands gliding up and down your body as you eventually calm down, Wanda's fingers still tangled in your hair.
"That's two," Wanda murmurs, pulling you away from her soft skin and admiring your dishevelled state; hair ruffled, lips kiss swollen, the blindfold loosely tied around your eyes as you look where she guides you. At the small noise that leaves you, Wanda's eyes meet Natasha's and they silently agree on ending your punishment, taking mercy on you, the both of them having edged you at least once and teasing you beyond madness. "I'm so proud of you Detka, good girl for taking your punishment so well," Wanda softly whispers while guiding you away from her legs, Natasha moving so she was laying down, waiting for the two of you.
Wanda kisses your lips softly, her hands guiding you into a new position, straddling the redhead as she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue, reluctantly parting from your mouth when Natasha wants a turn with you.
"Our good girl," Natasha husks out, breath fanning your lips as she brushes hers against yours, smiling against you while she pulls back marginally, your body naturally leaning forwards to chase them, hands searching for her shoulders. "What do you want, Krasotka?" Her tone a hum as her kisses travel along your jaw, her fingers gliding up your back slowly, eventually sliding through your hair and untying the blindfold, unravelling the tie and letting you see the two of them.
Your eyes blink as you adjust to not seeing darkness, the dim light helping you not be shocked at how bright the room was, the two sets of green eyes gazing at you immediately catching your attention.
"Please let me come," you beg and you don't care anymore at how desperate you sound, how needy you must seem as your eyes plead them to finally give you the pleasure of your release.
Wanda responds by moving her hand to cup your cheek, claiming your lips in a passionate kiss while Natasha moves her hands to your hips, lifting you up slightly so she could slide the toy back inside you, a broken noise being ripped from the back of your throat, the sound muffled by the witch's mouth as her tongue slides against yours messily.
Natasha's hands caress the curve of your hips affectionately as she lets you rock your hips against the toy, your body already moving a little frantically, your hands using the redhead as support.
"Show me how much you want it, Detka," Wanda pants against you, lips parting in a gasp as one of her hands move to your throat, eyes peering into yours with nothing but lust and desire as you whimper, pleasure building swiftly in your lower abdomen.
"Fuck," is all you can sigh out, hips increasing your pace as you roll them, the toy buried deep inside you making your eyes flutter close at the pleasure that shoots through you, nails digging into Natasha's shoulders.
You hear her hiss a little at the dull pain, her hips thrusting up into you as one of her hands move to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and gripping on your roots softly. Your eyes eventually flutter open, a wave of arousal flooding through you at the sight of the two of them making out, your hips stuttering against the redhead's lap.
Natasha's mouth opened to welcome Wanda's tongue, the witch letting out a sinful sound as she slid her tongue against the spy's, messily locking their lips as they put on a show for you, lewd sounds escaping them both. You almost come at the sight of the string of saliva that connects their lips, the two of them connecting their lips again before it breaks off, addicted to each other.
"Nat," Wanda groans, her accent becoming more prominent as you watch them eventually pull away from each other's lips, eyes overflowing with lust as they turn their gazes to you when you whimper, a smirk gracing both of their faces.
"Are you close Krasotka?" Natasha rasps out, leaning forwards to crash ghost her lips against yours, one of her fingers sliding between your bodies to find your clit, Wanda's hand tightening at your throat as she busies herself kissing the redhead's neck, teeth grazing the creamy skin.
"So close," you whisper, resting your head against hers as your hips rock frantically against her, the base of the toy brushing her clit making her moan quietly while you chase your high, pushing her towards her own.
Your hands travel further down her toned back, a groan leaving you as you feel her muscles twitch under your touch, red marks being left by your nails at the pleasure coursing through you, the redhead unable to stop the small sighs leaving her as her orgasm approaches. Her arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer and helping you with your hips as your rhythm falters, legs starting to tremble as you teeter on the edge of your desired release, her head dropping to rest against your shoulder.
"Come with me," she pants against your bare skin, her hips stuttering up into you as your body tenses on top of her. Your moans become unrestricted as your release crashes through you powerfully, body buzzing with satisfaction as you clench around the toy, obeying her words as you come all over the strap, vision blurring with pleasure.
Soft pants and gentle breaths filled the room as you relaxed against Wanda's body at your side, Natasha resting against you as you both recovered, Wanda's fingers threading through your hair in a comforting manner, you mirroring the action with Natasha. The redhead's hands slide up and down your back in a loving caress, warmth fluttering in your chest as your eyes flutter open, meeting her softening green as she pulls away from your shoulder.
Your lips break out into a tender, awkward smile as you lift your hips off of her, letting her remove the harness before joining the two of you back on the bed, arms enveloping you in an embrace as Wanda sandwiches you between them, smiles playing on all of your lips.
"We're so proud of you," Wanda murmurs against your temple, kissing your skin and lingering against the top of your head, nose brushing your hair as you relax against them, Natasha's fingers tracing random patterns against your hip bone.
"So proud," Natasha adds, your cheeks tinting pink at their praise, face moving to hide at Wanda's neck, a soft laugh leaving the witch at your flustered state.
"Stop," you mutter shyly, making them both chuckle adorningly, Wanda's fingers scratching your scalp in an affectionate manner while Natasha kisses your shoulder, smiling against your skin at the domestic moment, the three of you savouring the tranquil atmosphere.
"I love you," you whisper to the both of them after a while, feeling your powerful release catch up on you, exhaustion creeping up on you as their warm bodies surround you.
"We love you too," Wanda murmurs, kissing your temple once more as your eyes eventually flutter close, body drifting off to sleep as the two of them smile at each other knowingly.
It was only a couple days till Christmas...
Only a couple more days till they could ask you to be their wife. 
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sweetlyskz · 6 months
Text
Emerald Gem|| Chapter 1
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Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|
Paring: OT7! x Fem!Reader
Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.
Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn
unedited*
At dawn, the roosters began to crow. They were your personal alarm clock. By the afternoon, you would have the Vegetables plowed and all the pigs fed. Emerald garden, full of color, would be watered. After all the chores were done, you could spend time on your hobbies. Painting, writing, cooking.
You truly kept yourself busy. But it became boring at times, lonely.
Emerald manor, your beloved home, was built for a family. With a large living room, a generous dining room, and too many bedrooms, it could be overwhelming for you. You liked to think about how you could fill this space, getting married, having a family. But you quickly realized that those things don’t come easy. Tired of the loneliness, you thought about adopting a pet. Maybe a dog to help with the farm?
And one day while you're cleaning the chicken coop you spot a fox about to pounce on one of the chickens.
“Hey!” you exclaim. “Get out of here!”
The fox stopped in its tracks and peered over at you, giving an intimidating glare. Then you realized, that wasn’t a fox.
It’s a person.
“Wait!” you attempted to come closer, but with each step forward, the fox went two steps backward. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
The fox seemed dubious, cautiously stepping towards you. “F-food, please.” His voice was raspy, sore.
You immediately ran to get some food, coming back to the coop with some leftovers. Maybe this will suffice, you thought. You sat him down on the grass patch next to the chicken's den. You watched him devour the meal, as if he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. Based on his appearance, he probably hadn’t. His fur coat was dirty and torn. You could see his ribs and his belly rumbled with each bite. “Sorry, miss”, he whispered.
You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m Y/n. May I ask your name?”
You could tell he was nervous. Something about your presence made him anxious and fearful. Is he like this with everyone?
“H-Hoseok”, the fox uttered. “But I can’t stay long. My pack is waiting for me.” With a slight struggle, he stumbles back on his two feet. You grab him before he takes off.
“Please wait”, you politely asked. “Let me give you some food to take back to them. Don’t leave yet.”
He paused for a moment, seeming to be pondering over his next steps. “Okay”, he spoke softly. “But don’t be long. They may worry.”
With that, you hurry back into your home, running to the fridge to see what you can scrap up. Hopefully I have enough for all of them, you thought. Maybe you can give them a couple of chickens from the coop.
While carrying plastic wrap covered plates to your garden, you hear a scream coming from the coop. That must be Hoseok. Without haste, you ran to the chicken coops, the food left for the birds. Hovering over Hoseok was what looked like a wolf– well half wolf.
“Back away from him!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, trying to scare off the scary hybrid. He ignored you completely. Suddenly, you gain the courage to step up to it, pushing it off of the fox.
“Are you okay?” You helped him back on his feet, feeling the trembles in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”
“N-no, he would never hurt me”, He stuttered. “You don’t understand.” You looked at him confusingly, then looked at the wolf. He was fuming with anger.
“Y/n, this is my packmate, Joon.”
***
You’re not sure how feeding one hybrid led to having seven hybrids on your couch, but you have no one to blame but yourself.
“You want us to do what?!”
“Live here?” It was really just a random thought that popped in your head. You didn’t give it any thought. And seeing them dirty and hungry on your couch just made you blurt it out. Hoseok seemed thrilled but his Pack alpha, Joon, wasn't too excited.
“You must be out of your mind”, he laughed. “What do you think we are, pets?”
“No, not at all!” You shook your head. Something in the back of your mind tells you that they’ve been burned before, that they’ve been mistreated. You feel sort of sympathetic. Could they not trust anyone? “You guys don’t even have to stay here long. I just want to treat your wounds and offer some food.”
He still seemed doubtful. “Yeah? And what’s in it for you?”
That's the question he's been dying to ask. What about you? You thought about it for a moment. Wouldn’t any human being want to help out someone in need? The answer to that is no. However, maybe they need some good in their lives.
And you could use the company.
“Well, I kind of live here by myself”, You explain. “My parents moved to the city so I don’t see them often, and I don’t have any other family or friends. If I’m being honest, I really just need someone to converse with. And maybe a little help around the house.”
One of the packmates raised his hand, as if asking permission to speak. “We left the other home we were in. They may still be looking for us. We don’t want to put you in any danger.”
“We can figure all that out later”, you promise him. “Right now, you guys just need to wash up and get a proper rest.”
Hoseok turned to Joon, waiting for his response. “Please, Joon. We’ll be good, I promise.”
He glared at you for a second, trying to sense if this was another trap. Maybe she’s genuine, he thought. “Okay, but we won’t stay for long.” You could hear sighs of relief. Even you let out a puff of air, not realizing you were holding your breath.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me. I know that’s not easy.” You gave them a tour of Emerald farm, showing them their sleeping quarters and where they can wash up. When evening came around, you prepared a feast. Your hybrid guests gobbled down all they could– except Joon. He didn’t eat, probably from fear of being poisoned. Hopefully, one day he’ll trust me, you thought. But for now, all you can do is show them tender care and affection until they believe it.
When it becomes time for everyone to sleep in their rooms, you're left alone in the living room with our thoughts. Maybe some television will clear your mind. You never really use it. Living on a farm left you with plenty of other things to do, but why not? Turning on the television, you flip through the channels until one catches your attention.
Breaking news! Seven dangerous hybrids escaping from a research facility
*Taglist open!
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joelalorian · 19 days
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Fall Into Me
dbf!Joel x f!reader
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The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.
Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.
Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.
Word Count: 4.1k
Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.
Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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Chapter One: The Day That I Met You
If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.
No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.
He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.
Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.
He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.
He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.
The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.
When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.
“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.
“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.
“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.
Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”
“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.
“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.
The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.
“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.
“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”
“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”
Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”
“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.
Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”
“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.
Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…
“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.
“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”
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Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.
You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…
Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.
You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.
The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.
“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”
“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”
“Me, too, kid.”
You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”
“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.
Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.
“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”
You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”
Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”
Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.
“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”
Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”
A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”
“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”
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“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.
“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.
Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”
“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.
“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.
Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”
His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”
The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.
After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.
At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.
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It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.
“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.
“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”
You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.
“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.
You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.
Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.
“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.
“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.
“I’m ready!”
Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”
“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.
The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.
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“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”
“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.
“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”
Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.
“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.
“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”
“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.
Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”
Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.
“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”
Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.
“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.
“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”
“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”
You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”
Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.
“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.
“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”
“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”
Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.
“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.
Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.
“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”
How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.
Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.
TBC
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deadbranch · 12 days
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The Day is My Enemy (1)
Author: @deadbranch
Pairing: werewolf!Captain Price x fem!Reader
Summary:  You and John are acquainted with one another, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Word Count:  1.1k
Warnings:  18+ MDNI, light angsty emotion, impolite language, eventual smut.
A/N:  Takes place in the same werewolf AU as Midnight in a Perfect World, but on the other side of the Atlantic.  Click here for AU lore.  This first chapter was written for @glitterypirateduck ‘s Captain Price writing challenge, using prompt #62 “Story takes place in an airport or on a plane.”
SERIES MASTERLIST
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THE DAY IS MY ENEMY (1)
There are times you miss the rank and file.
Perhaps you just long for simplicity. The clarity of service in uniform.  They still call you by your rank, observing the hierarchical courtesies, but it all drives you a little mad by the end of the week.  This isn’t the army.  It’s something else entirely.
Most of the seats on this flight are filled with werewolves.
There are a few trait carriers, otherwise human in appearance, among them but not many.
The flight attendants and crew likely have no idea.  Or maybe they know and don’t pay mind to it.  Regardless, it’s rare to find yourself in a flight cabin with this many.
The representative bodies of the Twenty Nations meet every two decades.  It’s tradition.
You’re certain the advent of trains, planes, and other vehicles makes the pilgrimage easier, but for you it would always be difficult.
You’re already making plans to avoid the next one in twenty years.
“Excuse me.”
You glance upward abruptly, not having realized you were zoned out to the buzzing activity on the tarmac outside the window across the aisle.
It’s Captain Price.  You know him as John, at his previous insistence, but you still call him Price.  There’s something to be said about keeping a wolf like him at a professional distance.  You’re not interested in a legacy more than fifty generations deep, nor any legacy for that matter.  Your bloodline ends with you.
You hadn’t realized Price was on the same flight.  Despite the near statistical certainty of sharing a plane, someone like him seldom occupies your thoughts beyond institutional annoyance.
He takes a breath as though to speak but stops himself.  Of all things, you admire his eyebrows for a moment.  They’re expressive, almost as much as they are when he’s more wolf than man.
You never served under the same command, but you’d participated in the same joint force exercises.  It feels like forever ago, but upon reflection it was less than three years.  You thought you’d never see most of your former teammates, acquaintances, even your enemies once you were recruited for off-books work.  Seeing Price’s restrained smile across the room during orientation gave you no small amount of trepidation.  You were looking forward to a fresh start. 
You dutifully stand to let him pass.  Tempted to ask if he’s sure he’s on the correct row, you decide less is more.
At this rate, maybe you’ll catch a short nap before takeoff.
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Price closes his book and lays it against his chest in contemplation.  He spares a glance at the woman next to him.
He’s certain she remembers him, by the look in her eye every time they bump into each other.  He knows her name, she knows his.
She’s asleep in the seat next to him, arms folded and cover pulled down in the manner of a sleeping soldier.
He takes a sharp intake of air through his nostrils.  He still can’t tell if she’s a wolf on suppressors or a carrier.  The medication messes with their natural scent, making wolves smell...not like wolves.  He knows someone who can pull her records, to confirm.  He doesn’t want to do that.  Although not exactly an egregious transgression, he doesn’t like the idea of invading her privacy.
And does it even matter?  He sighs inwardly.  It does to the custodial members of his bloodline.  Pair with a wolf.  Sire full-wolf children.  Maintain the legacy.
Fucking legacy.
He runs a hand through his close-cropped beard as he averts his eyes from her sleeping form.  He can’t help feeling guilty.  The opportunity presented itself for him to ask her, a few years back.  He didn’t take it.  It felt wrong to ask.  What are you?
Price shuts his eyes and tries not to breathe too deeply as he attempts to doze off.
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The pressure inside your head wakes you.  The drop in altitude means you’re almost home.  You smile bitterly.  Not home.  Just where you sleep while you’re not working.  Your parents believe you’ve taken a civilian job.  The bitter smile fades.
Price rouses from his own nap, book sliding off his chest and into his lap, causing the muscles in his chest and abdomen to flex at the unexpected movement.
His eyes, still bleary with sleep, meet yours.  You look away.  You’re hoping he didn’t notice your line of sight, but it’s too late.  The way his brows perk up, you’re all but certain he can smell your shift in perception.
“Sleep well?” he asks innocently, followed with a soundless yawn and rubbing of his left eye with the heel of his palm.  He’s giving you the dignity of feeling unseen.  Christ.  A gentleman werewolf.
“Well enough,” you say dismissively, avoiding his gaze as you tuck your cover under one arm before digging through your pockets.  You’ve got aspirin somewhere, but you suspect you likely left it in your carryon, now in the bin above and behind your seat.
He’s staring at you.  As you look up, you catch the aftermath of his flared nostrils.  He turns a little crimson under the collar but doesn’t look away.
“You’re…in discomfort?” he asks, nearly choking on the effort to speak.  You’re accustomed to the young wolves and non-legacies losing their nerve around you, but a wolf like Price?
“Just a headache.”
He reaches into the small carryon seated between his boots, withdraws a small bottle, and presses it into your palm.  You don’t recall reaching for it, but you take it gratefully.
You knock two of them into the back of your throat and swallow.  He winces.  You frown at him with mild amusement as you replace the plastic cap and press the bottle back into his open hand.  His fingers close around yours for the briefest moment before your hand slips through his grasp, his skin warm and dry to the touch.
“I’ll never get used to watching someone swallow pills dry.”
“Then don’t watch.”
He blinks slowly as he laughs in response to your logic.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Thank you.  For the aspirin,” you amend quickly, unsure of where this is going.  You’ve lost all concept of time and space.
“You’re most welcome.  I was hoping I could offer you something, anything.  At some point.”
Shaking your head, you mentally retract yourself from the moment.
“I don’t need anything from you.”
An infuriating level of patience and sincerity emanates from his every expression, gesture, even the movements of his mouth.
“I know you don’t.  But I’m here…if you ever do.”
With that, he shuts his eyes and turns toward the window again, his book still in his lap.
As his body shifts subtly to adjust to the attempt at sleep, you can’t help noticing his nostrils flare twice more and the hint of a smile at the near corner of his mouth.
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Next Chapter
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Text
Rigor Mortis (part 1)
College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader
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(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,
Prologue, Part 2
summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.
warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end
a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.
Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3
Join my taglists here <3
wc: 4.2k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
or in the cold, crisp morn:
"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means,  the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.
It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world. 
The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.
So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp  but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.
You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…
“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”
“Miguel?”
“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.” 
Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.
~~~
You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated. 
You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do. 
Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while. 
…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is. 
It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment. 
He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something. 
You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light. 
It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades. 
"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate. 
He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck. 
"I was just looking for.. uhh…" 
You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed. 
" Shit. Sorry, let me-" 
He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly. 
" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-" 
[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-] 
He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen. 
"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and  stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless. 
"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples. 
"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.
Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."
"I like to be early." 
"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."
He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .
~~~
His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge. 
Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it. 
So naturally , you were sent to kill him. 
You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer -  particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable. 
The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower. 
As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off. 
Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside. 
“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”
You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”
“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”
You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry. 
There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange. 
"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily. 
" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?" 
You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold. 
A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view. 
He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial. 
"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."
You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.  
He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought. 
"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."
You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."
"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him. 
"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you. 
He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression. 
"...I think that's mine."
He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-" 
He shrugs, noncommittal. 
"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."
~~~
It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.
You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.
There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.
When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt. 
“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile. 
“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.
You wait expectantly, as a beat passes. 
“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”
With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter. 
“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time. 
So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”
“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.
“...was it two sugars, or three?”
“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”
You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.
He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile. 
“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.
“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”
From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”
With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.
“...Technically?” 
“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”
“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”
She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.
You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.
He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky. 
The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong? 
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promiscuouscutie · 8 months
Text
All Yours pt. 1
Ethan Landry x fem. Reader, reader is a little naive and Ethan’s obsessed, eventual smut
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7
Word count: 1979
Warnings for this part: uhhh drinking under 21, murder, mentions of vomit
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
You look at yourself in the mirror in disgust. You were dripping in beer liquid, courtesy to a sorority blonde devil named Michelle. Ironically, Michelle was dressed as an angel. It was meant to represent her ‘angelic personality.’ At least that’s what she put on her instagram caption for her costume reveal post. She hated you, but you never knew why. Did she have an actual reason, or did she just want to put others down? You just wanted her to stop talking to you. You wanted her to stop trying to spread rumors about you, when she didn’t even know what she was talking about. You wanted her to stop sending you threats on social media. She never bothered making anonymous accounts. She didn’t care if you knew it was her. She thought she walked on water, that she could do no wrong.
“Angelic personality. What a joke,” You said to yourself. You dig through your purse and pull out tissues, trying to wipe some of liquid off of your skin. You sniffed your dress and gagged; you stunk of cheap beer.
Ding! You pull out your phone and read the contact name: Cason. You pressed on the notification and read the message:
I’m here, at the party. Can we talk, bunny? I really owe you an explanation.
You chewed the inside of your cheek. Bunny, his nickname for you. The way he said it would make you smile, but not this time. The pet name barely made you react. Some part of you felt happy to get a text from him. He hadn’t texted you in weeks. He hadn’t spoken to you in person. Every time you tried to talk to him, he’d walk the other way.
Most of all, you felt awful. He used to flirt with you, just simple teasing and compliments during your tutor sessions. You didn’t realize his intentions right away. You just thought he was being kind. When he gave you the nickname, you thought it was a sign you were becoming close friends. You were wrong. During one of your tutoring sessions, he kissed you. You were so shocked, but you didn’t kiss him back.
He had a girlfriend. He still does, the girl you hate more than anyone. Michelle, the devil’s wife herself. You pushed him away and ended the tutoring session early.
Despite your hatred for Michelle, you didn’t want to break up a relationship. But why would he make a move? You didn’t understand that part, but maybe he’d explain himself. Maybe he could explain why Michelle spread the rumor that you made the move on him, knowing that he had a girlfriend. The rumor made traction around campus, making you lose some customers for your job. People saw you as a home wrecker, a horrible girl.
You sniffled. God, don’t start crying. It’s going to be okay. Just hear him out. You took a deep breath and reply to his message:
Should we find somewhere private to talk? Maybe you could take me on a walk or something? -you
He read it immediately.
Let’s talk in an hour. Michelle’s slobbering all over me rn. -Cason
This was fine. You were going to be fine. He’d explain himself, clear everything up. He could apologize for the kiss and even try to debunk the rumor his girlfriend started. But why didn’t he in the first place? A good question, one you couldn’t answer yourself. Only Cason could, and he would. You were positive he had a good reason for it. You just couldn’t figure out what it could be.
You still smelled like beer. But who doesn’t at this party? There’s a mix of alcohol and weed in the air that’s traveled to the first and second floor of this frat house. You adjusted your sparkly, lavender wings to make them less crooked. The purple glitter on your eyes still stayed perfect, which you were relieved about.
It took forever to put it on. Your roommate Anika had to assist you with it, but she didn’t complain. She was obsessed with your costume. She thought you made the perfect fairy! Your dress was a royal purple and made of silk. It had lace on the chest, giving it a lingerie look. You had a flower crown on earlier, but it found itself on Mindy’s head halfway through the party. You didn’t mind of course; Mindy looks great with it on.
There was a knock at the door. “Yo hurry up in there!”
“Coming!” You shouted. You grabbed your purse and threw away your garbage quickly before the stranger let out another complaint. You opened the door and rushed past the random guy. You looked around the room, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd. You spot a shirtless cowboy: Chad Meeks-Martin, the frat boy and self-acclaimed feminist. He spots you from a distance and waves. “Y/N! Come have a drink!” He called out. You walk over to him and catch the beers can he throws at you. As you opened it, you spot a familiar face.
“Hey Ethan! I didn’t know you were coming,” you smiled sweetly. He smiled back at you, right before glancing at the floor awkwardly.
“It was a last minute decision,” Chad explains. He puts his arm around Ethan, pulling him close. “I managed to convince him to come hang out,” Chad added with a joking tone. Ethan rolled his eyes at his friend’s words.
“You make me sound like a hermit,” Ethan comments.
“That’s cause you are, my boy. You’re a hermit crab.”
“Don’t tease the guy! He’s just trying to have a good time,” you lightly pushed Chad’s shoulder. You took a big sip from your beer and looked around the room again. Ethan’s eyes moved down your body, fully focusing on your costume. He took notice to the fishnet stockings on your legs. He liked them. He liked them a lot. Your eyes landed on Ethan’s face, making him avoid eye contact. You caught him staring at you. You thought it was a little cute, but probably just a coincidence. After all, how could sweet, quiet, adorable Ethan look at you like that?
You felt a a shoulder hit yours hard. You watch Michelle walk past you, snickering to her friends. She had two drinks in hand, and her angel wings were practically almost falling off her body. You winced as your rubbed your shoulder as Ethan and Chad watched the blonde walk up the stairs.
“What a bitch,” Chad says bluntly.
“Yeah. Major bitch,” Ethan agrees. You were a little surprised by Ethan. You never heard him say something like that before, and his face! He was practically glaring at her as she disappeared. If looks could kill, Michelle would be dead by now. You awkwardly laugh it off, trying to move on. You reach into your purse and pull out your phone.
I ran into Michelle. I take it she’s done slobbering all over you? -you
He didn’t answer right away. It took him maybe five or six minutes to reply:
She didn’t give you any problems, did she?-Cason
Nothing too horrible. Can we talk now?-you
You watched the thinking bubble appear quickly, making you smile.
Give me a few more minutes, bunny. I’ll come find you when I’m done, okay?-Cason
You sighed in disappointment. You felt guilty for being impatient. He’s trying to have fun, just like you! You shove your phone back into your pocket and brushed your dress down.
“Let’s just keep the drinks coming, huh Chad?” You shake your beer can. Chad points at your face, grinning. “I like the way you’re thinking tonight, Y/N.” You both laugh as you chug your drinks, Ethan drinking his silently.
He watched you take drink after drink. After two more beer cans, you were cut off. Chad banned you from the fridges and coolers, but you managed to find one laying around. You just wanted to make your brain become sludge tonight. You wanted to forget your problems for just a few more hours. Fortunately for you, it was working. You found yourself wandering up the stairs, trying not step in vomit. You gag at the sight, trying to hold back any possible bile from your throat. When you made it to the top, you said “yes!” under your breath. That was your greatest accomplishment for the night.
You walk past rooms, trying to find an empty room to lock yourself in and close your eyes. You thought you found one, not seeing anyone on the bed. The music was so loud. The song Heartbeat by Childish Gambino started to play, and you dramatically sighed. “I love this song!” You grin. You shut the door behind you and throw yourself on the bed. How many hours had it been since you showed up to the party? Two? Three? Four? One? You couldn’t quite focus with the music playing in the background. You could practically feel the music’s beat inside your chest, matching your own heartbeat. You heard thumps near you, thinking it was just from the music. But you were wrong. You look to your left, seeing a tall, cloaked figure. You recognized the look immediately.
“Really? Another Ghostface? I’ve seen like two of you at this party already!” You sit up and stare up at the masked stranger. They tilt their head, staring at you. You notice the red knife in their hand and try to grab it. They move it away from you immediately, making you whine.
“Let me see it! Can’t I hold it? Just once?” You bat your eyelashes at them. To your surprise, it worked. They wiped the red liquid on their sleeve and handed the knife to you.
They still hadn’t said a single word to you. They just watched you grip the handle, swinging it around like it was a toy. You thought it was, at least. You tried to stand up, but you wobbled. The Ghostface grabbed your arms and helped you stand up straight. You looked up at the masked stranger and smiled. “Thank you, sweet thing!” Your feet feel stuck to the wooden floor, as if they were superglued down. Their grip on your arms felt stronger than before. “Can you..can you let me go please? I need to pee,” You squeak out. One of their hands lifts up and cups your face. The leather glove felt strange against your skin. You felt a fluttery feeling inside your stomach. It was a new feeling. They tuck some of your hair behind your ear, revealing one of your collarbones that hid underneath.
“Use the one downstairs. The one up here is broken,” the Ghostface spoke with a strange voice. Did they have a voice modulator? That’s pretty cool. You nodded along, as if stuck in a trance. They loosened their grip on you, finally letting you go. You reach for your purse on the bed, bending over. You felt the cold air on your upper thighs and ass as your short dress lifted up. You didn’t even think about how you could’ve been flashing this stranger. You didn’t actually think you were, but you were. They stared at the exposed skin they could see until you stood up straight again.
You turned back around to face the Ghostface. “Don’t be a lady killer, Mr. Ghostface.” You blew a kiss at them and walked out of the room, trying not to wobble or stumble again.
If you had gone into the upstairs bathroom, you would’ve found a very dead Michelle laying in the tub with her throat slit. But you didn’t. You believed the Ghostface, naively and foolishly.
Who knew how much of a problem this would be in the future?
Not you, but Ghostface would. Ethan would.
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distantdarlings · 4 months
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BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 4) // t. nott
RATING: R / 2.3K WORDS
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Theodore Nott x Fem Reader
+ SUMMARY - *Requested* In an attempt to forget about the events of the last few days, you try to relax yourself as best you can. You pull a book and some tea down to the common room but are shocked to see that Theo had the same idea.
+ WARNINGS - Language, sensuality (described in mind), nothing else really
+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -
affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS
*sorry for the short chapter
- - -
You awoke early the next morning. Much earlier than normal. The small clock sat on the desk beside your bed barely had its big hand brushing the four. There was little to no light outside. You pulled your hand to your face to rub some of the sleep out of your eyes.
The only sounds around you were the occasional soft snores from your roommates and a deep rumbling in your stomach. Shit. You must have fallen asleep last night without eating anything. You raised your arms above your head and coaxed a few cracks out of your spine before slipping out of bed. The green, fur-lined slippers lay right beside the head of your bed, waiting patiently for you to sleep your feet in.
You were no longer tired and didn’t feel like laying in bed until classes started, trying to urge yourself back to sleep. You figured you could catch up on some personal reading and have a mug of tea.
Beneath your bed, was a small wicker basket your mother had made for you on your eleventh birthday. It was intricately woven with two pastel ribbons secured on either handle. You loved it dearly and it had held many things as you grew up. At the moment, it held a large assortment of teas and a small kettle that you could hang over the fire in the common room. You knelt down and retrieved the items, deciding on a nice rose and lavender blend.
You gathered the things together, slipped the book you were currently reading into your arms, and made for the common room. At 4 o’clock in the morning, where the sun was not even up, you were expecting few students, if any, to be occupying the room. You were hoping for none.
The common room was always pleasantly splashed in moonlight around this time of the morning. Its cool rays showed through the water just outside the windows and bathed everything in the whiteness. Everything except for the warm fire in the middle of the room. You waltzed over to one of the plush couches, not seeing anyone else around—thank Merlin.
Wandlessly, you conjured some water, watching as it filled your small kettle. You hang it on the fireplace hanger and collapse into the couch, propping your book open. It had been over a day since you’d last read—some fiction about a knight’s journey dealing with the PTSD of his position—and you wondered if you even remembered what had happened the last few chapters. Your eyes found the small words on the page and let yourself fall into the story.
After a few minutes, the kettle began to whistle. You marked your place in the book and tossed it to the cushion beside you. You wanted to get the kettle off the flame before it started screaming and waking up the whole Slytherin house.
You wrapped your hands in your night robe and slipped the kettle away from the fire. With a whispered incantation, your favorite mug from under your bed appeared on the side table. You poured the steaming water into it and watched as the steam poured over the lip of the cup, its billowing moisture brushing against your bare legs.
Once you’d allowed the tea to steep and it had cooled, you became comfortable once again, leaning against the edge of the couch’s arm, sipping your tea every once in a while. It really was a good book. You’d almost found yourself forgetting about the ridiculous events of yesterday.
Until….you sigh. Out of the corner of your eye, a pair of legs appear coming down the stairs to the male dormitory, then a chest, then a face. A particularly difficult pair of eyes met yours. You all but groaned and rolled your eyes. You could not believe it.
“Hey,” he said, a small chuckle coming out of his mouth. It was awkward and the silence that followed it was somehow worse.
“Uh, hey?” You knew he was just talking to you now because he felt just as weird as you did—at least, that’s what you assumed. Before, he never went out of his way to acknowledge you, now…
No one spoke for at least a minute, the both of you just stared at one another, briefly found the other’s eyes, then quickly glanced away again.
“Well don’t let me interrupt you, I was just passing through,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of the plaid pajama pants he was wearing. Your eyes followed him as he began to walk towards one of the bookcases in the corner. He wore a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms beautifully. Your line of vision traced the thick vein that wrapped around his arm, curled down his wrist, and disappeared with his hands in his pants pocket. The pajama pants sat low on his waist and framed the sharp edge of his hip bones. You watched closely as he contemplated the options on the shelves before him.
His eyes caught something interesting. He raised up on his tip toes and lifted his arm to grab it. The tank top slid up his stomach, revealing the strong line of muscle that traveled from below his ribs and down to what lay beneath his waistband. The band of his undergarments traveled briefly over his hips. Fuck. He looked absolutely edible.
You shake that thought off and turn your head back to your book, forcing yourself to focus on the words before you. Surely, this was a normal feeling. It was just natural hormones forcing you to look for a mate. This was simply Mother Nature taking its course. Completely ordinary.
But Merlin, the way he had looked at you when he’d come down the stairs. His eyes, so dark and wanting, glancing over you in your too-big night robe and your ratty shorts. You felt like the most desirable thing in the world with the way he looked at you. Maybe you were just imagining it, but he looked as though he wanted to devour every inch of you.
Your fingers scraped over the book’s pages, letting the light scratch of the parchment control your thoughts. Intrusive ones that you indulged for just a moment before realizing what a weakness it was. Ones that gripped your hips and bit your chest and traced your thighs.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” His voice appeared behind you suddenly. You jumped at his abruptness.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine, Nott, take a seat wherever you’d like,” you sighed, trying once again to refocus yourself. But as he traveled over to the love seat at the far end of the rug probably no more than ten feet from you, you couldn’t help but glance up over the pages every so often.
You watched as he made himself comfortable, legs spread wide open with one ankle resting on the other knee, one hand against the arm of the chair propping his head up, the book balanced against his raised leg, and a strong arm coming up every once and a while to flip the page. As he launched himself further into the story, he began to fidget a bit. His thumb and forefinger pinching his bottom lip, the knot in his throat sliding up and down as he swallowed, his hips readjusting themselves, sliding them slowly against the cushion and—
You slammed your book shut. You couldn’t live like this. You were just going to force yourself back to bed. At the sudden sound, Theo’s eyes shot up in a worried glance.
“You okay?” he asked. You began to gather your things, tucking your now-cooled kettle under your arm. When he realized what you were doing, his book dropped to the cushion beside him and he stood abruptly. You stopped and the two of you watched each other, waiting for the other to speak. His eyes were slightly widened and he was breathing a bit heavier than usual. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly. Neither one of you moved.
“You know I’m—” “I’m sorry if—”
You both began talking and stopped at the same time. Theo dropped his head and you glanced away, finding the stained glass windows particularly interesting.
“You go first,” he says. You sigh.
“I was just going to say that I’m going to go back to bed,” you explained, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh,” he says, sounding particularly dejected. Or maybe he didn’t. You couldn’t tell what you were and weren’t imagining the last few hours.
“What were you going to say?” you ask.
His eyes glanced around the room. His fists opened and closed, flexing the tendons that ran gracefully along his forearm.
“I was going to say I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the whole…,”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” you brush it off, “let’s not make it more than it is, okay?”
“No, yeah, I didn’t mean to,” he quickly says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
His eyes find yours and for a second you feel your heart liquefying, melting and rushing down your ribs, sliding across your stomach and legs. Your eyes hold and it feels as though neither of you can look away. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears and echoing against your back.
His lips open and close multiple times and the heavy breathing is back. His chest rising and falling, rising and falling. His honeyed lips pulsing with each breath. His eyes slipping down the length of your body but your vision is too shaky to even notice it. And when did you guys get closer to each other? His hand now rested delicately on the back of the couch you stood in front of. There was but an arm’s length between the two of you. You could just reach out and touch him…
“Yeah, uh…,” you interrupted, your eyes falling away from his. You broke the moment. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking in, Nott.” He chuckles.
“Do you even know my first name?” His eyes find yours once more. No, thank you. You finish gathering your things and begin to walk around the side of the couch.
“Um, I do but…you know, if we aren’t making this weird, I figure we just go back to the way we were. You not knowing I exist and me not caring that you do.” Yikes. Fucking harsh. You shake your head and start walking past him to the staircase.
His hand suddenly wraps around your arm, your skin stinging like he had electrocuted you. You jump and he pulls away quickly. He mumbles a quick apology. You brush it off swiftly. God, this was painful. You imagined your friends watching this play out and cringing so hard they passed out. Because you were on the verge of doing the same.
“Is that seriously what you think of me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern. You sigh again.
“I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t have said that,” you apologize. “But before…this whole situation, we didn’t talk to each other. We went about our days, blissfully ignorant to one other.”
His eyes hit the ground. He knew it was true. The both of you knew that if this hadn’t happened, nothing would have changed between your relationship—or lack thereof.
“If you want to…you know, be friendly,” you start. His eyes raise to yours. “Come to the library with me or have lunch with me.” You felt pretty sure he wouldn’t. He had a reputation to uphold.
He and all of his friends were ‘well-known’ around Hogwarts. They were all handsome, smart, and hailing from very old, wealthy Wizarding families. Everybody liked them or wanted to be them and you knew that well. All cliches aside, you were a Half-Blood and probably none of their concern if not the subject of their bigotry.
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I will do those things with you,” he shrugs. “Give me a time and place.”
You were flabbergasted. And you were sure your face was showing it painfully well. You didn’t know what to say without sounding like a fool.
You wanted to say yes. God, how you wanted to say yes…Should you? Is it even worth all of the trouble? You know if anyone sees the two of you chatting it up at lunch, rumors will fly and you’re not so sure you’re comfortable being at the center of those. Yeah, no. You’re definitely not. Say no.
“Um…alright,” you breathe, smiling nervously. “I usually eat lunch by the Black Lake and read. I’ll be there today.” Merlin, help.
“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Well, don’t be reading while we’re eating lunch together.” You laugh.
“I won’t, as long as your conversation can keep my interest.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure it can.” He sends a wink your way. Embarrassingly, a bit of heat blossoms in your stomach. This was ridiculous. You weren’t thirteen. You needed to get it together.
“We’ll see.” The two of you smile and begin to slowly separate. You didn’t really understand what was going on and you half-wondered if this was even worth it simply due to the amount of teasing you were going to get from your friends. But he seemed…nice. You wanted to see what lunch was all about today. It couldn’t hurt to have a new friend.
Part 5!
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dreaming-medium · 5 months
Text
Animals Without Direction Masterlist
Ao3 Link - Latest Update (March 4) - Chapter Thirty-Three
⚔️ Updates every Thursday ⚔️ Character Descriptions World Map ot8 x reader Stray Kids Fantasy!AU 18+ MDNI Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Swordfighting, Magic, Eventual Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Romance, Adventure, Fighting, High Fantast, Slow Burn, Extremely Slow Burn, Plot Heavy
Summary:
“No.” Your voice was stern, your eyes didn’t even look up from the plate in front of you. A healthy helping of roasted potatoes being pushed around by the metal fork in your hand.
“I am offering you a hefty sum of gold,” the man’s voice pleaded with you.
“I am well aware of the amount you offer, but you must think me mad to go anywhere near Miroh.”
“Thrice the amount, then.”
You paused.
Swallowing your mouthful of food, you placed your fork back on the table; tonguing your cheek and shifting on your seat.
Individually, you cracked each knuckle on both hands, your mind reeling.
“Explain the job to me once more.”
Chapter One - Thrice The Amount Chapter Two - Stained Glass Window Chapter Three - Red and Gold Throw Pillows Chapter Four - Sword Sparks Chapter Five - Careful, Merchant Chapter Six - Aye, My Lord Chapter Seven - Decree Chapter Eight - Twenty Laps Chapter Nine - Clear Your Plate Chapter Ten - By First Light Chapter Eleven - Permitted to Die Chapter Twelve - Rest Chapter Thirteen - Jump Chapter Fourteen - Quite Certain Chapter Fifteen - Serendipitously Chapter Sixteen - Make it in Three Chapter Seventeen - Hang in There Chapter Eighteen - Sunshine in the Night Chapter Nineteen - Dance Lessons Chapter Twenty - While Dancing Chapter Twenty One - Mend Chapter Twenty Two - Of Course Chapter Twenty Three - Tea With Sugar Chapter Twenty Four - Dagger Chapter Twenty Five - The Gracious Host Chapter Twenty Six - The Dove Waltz Chapter Twenty Seven - Imported Cigars Chapter Twenty Eight - Use Chapter Twenty-Nine - Between Two Walls Chapter Thirty - Missed You Chapter Thirty-One - Bonfire Chapter Thirty-Two - Music of the World Chapter Thirty-Three - Stay Here
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rhenysz · 3 months
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Your Dead Eyes - Chapter 1
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Summary: Lifeless eyes were what haunted your all your life, many people say that death was lurking around your eyes, maybe it's true. Maybe you just see things that other people don't.
Pairing: Azriel x Archeron! reader fem.
A/n: This took longer than expected and isn't even half as long as I would have liked, but I've finally finished the first book and let's get to the real story! Thank you for the positive feedback 🙌🏻 This chapter was more about the sisters' bond, the next ones will be different. I think the Reader has an emotional dependence on Feyre 😥
*English is NOT my native language, this fanfic was translated with the help of an AI, any grammatical errors please let me know*
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Scars, family abandonment, mentioned death.
previous x next
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"Do you not think you're exaggerating?" Elain asked you with forced gentleness. The sound of her sipping tea tickled your ears. Dropping your own teacup on the living room's coffee table – causing some splashes to stain the surface – you placed a hand on your chest in mock indignation, perhaps not entirely fake.
"I'd rather be thrown to the wolves than face the conjugal bed, and I must say I'm terrified of those animals." Your lips curled downward, "Men, in this case."
Elain's eyes crinkled at the corners, and the curve of her lips lifted even as she tried to dispel the amusement she felt.
"I understand. But maybe you should consider, I bet Feyre would return in time for your wedding." She spoke with her eyes lowered to the tea.
No, she wouldn't return. You wanted to shout out to Elain. Hardly would that beast willingly let your sister go, that is if she wasn't already in the belly of those faeries.
"I have no interest in getting married, sister. And who in their right mind would be interested in someone with my condition?" Your voice was soft, not a hint of resentment showing in your features.
Having a man in your life was not something you desired. They were rough, lazy, and smelled bad. Not even the twisted relationship Feyre had with that man could make you want one too.
"Maybe... you just haven't looked in the right place," Elain commented. Looked? Have holy patience. You were hardly going to look at anything, let alone a man. Realizing her bluntness, Elain widened her eyes towards you, "I didn't mean it that way, sister, it was just a figure of speech—"
Your laughter cut off Elain's awkward attempt to apologize. Your shoulders shook with the intensity of your laughter. Elain sighed in relief and awkwardly joined in.
Feyre didn't treat you as if you were about to burst into tears.
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After that interesting conversation with Elain, Nesta barged into the room, interrupting – rather rudely – to announce that a luxurious carriage was approaching.
You could hear the rustle of Elain's skirts as she tried to beautify herself even more. Despite Nesta feigning an indifferent facade, she was also discreetly arranging her hair.
Laughing to yourself, you wondered how you must look in your supposed light blue dress. A hand grabbed your arm and gently lifted you from the sofa. Nesta, you could tell the difference. Elain had rougher hands from gardening, and Nesta's hands were colder.
"Let's go. Can you manage on your own?" Nesta asked. You appreciated that she allowed you to have your own autonomy. Nodding, you reached for the edge of the sofa where your cane rested and grabbed it.
When you heard the door opening, your head turned towards the sound and you went, dragging the golden tip of the cane across the floor, which hit the furniture warning you to dodge, and slowly going after your sisters – who were walking significantly slower to wait for you.
His cane hit the front door step. Carefully, you placed your foot in front to descend. The breeze made your hair flutter, and it felt so good; the wind kissed your skin like a longing lover.
"Welcome to our home... Lady." You heard Nesta as you finally caught up with your sisters. A brief moment of silence followed, soon to be cut by an extremely familiar laughter
.Your heart raced, and your free hand crumpled the dress you were wearing. Your lifeless eyes turned, trying to find the source of the voice.
"Nesta," she laughed, "doesn't recognize her own sister?" The air was expelled from your lungs, Feyre. A burning sensation started in your eyes, and without you realizing, fat tears streamed down your flushed cheeks. No matter how or where, you would always, always recognize your sister's voice.
The crunching of dried leaves alerted you that someone was approaching, a calm breath was blown on your face. Your trembling lips also parted as you tried to find the right words. Nothing came to mind; it was as if your brain had turned to jelly.
"My snowflake..." Feyre stepped forward, using her fingers to wipe away your tears. She missed you so much while she was with Tamlin. Her chest weighed every time she thought of you, her dearest sister.
Closing your eyes tightly, you let out a sob and threw yourself into Feyre's arms. Discarding the cane without care, your hands reached the back of your sister, pulling her into a tight and emotional embrace.
Feyre staggered under your weight and laughed. She laughed as she nestled in your arms and continued to laugh even as she felt Nesta's eyes drilling holes into her head.
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You couldn't physically move away from Feyre while your sisters talked with her. Your hand clung to hers in the hope that if you held on tight enough, she wouldn't leave again.
But not even all the happiness you were feeling could make you ignore Feyre's excuse. Taking care of Aunt Ripleigh? You distinctly remembered that it wasn't Aunt Ripleigh who tore the door off the old cabin.
As expected, Nesta was cautious, hovering over you and Elain as if Feyre would reveal her true intentions at any moment. She declined Elain's invitation to go to the garden, seeing Feyre there made her physically sick, so she withdrew to avoid conflicts in front of her sisters.
You were focused on Feyre and Elain's conversation, desperately wanting her to talk about what happened.
Feyre tensed when Elain casually mentioned – distracted by the flowers – that Nesta visited her at Aunt Ripleigh's. Another lie.
You felt Feyre's breath near your face: "How have you been?"
Fine. You were fine, but not well enough to disguise the suspicion in your expression. Feyre quickly noticed and stepped back slightly.
"Why are you lying to us?" You were direct, no more beating around the bush. You needed answers, and not even Elain's presence would distract you from your goal.
Feyre widened her eyes toward Elain and was relieved to see that she was far enough away not to hear. Biting her lips, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the exit, giving a brief goodbye to Elain, who was so fascinated by the new petunia seedlings that she didn't care.
You were guided through a few doors until you reached a room that Feyre considered safe from curious ears.
You crossed your arms over your chest and impatiently waited for Feyre, who ran her hand through her hair and sighed, not knowing where to start. Then she decided to start with the worst.
"I– I'm in love with the High Lord of Prythian."
If you weren't already blind, you could swear your vision blurred at that moment.
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And then Feyre told you, told about how the other side of the wall was breathtaking, told about the peculiar creatures that existed there, told about her frenemy Lucien, and told about how she fell in love with the beast that turned out to be so loving to her.
And to your dismay, she detailed the night of passion she had before being – gently – sent home.
"I didn't need to know that. I have a vivid imagination, and I hate myself for it." You spoke with disgust; Feyre chuckled and approached you, taking your hand and bringing it to her face.
"I haven't told you everything," you murmured for her to continue. Your fingers traced the contours of her face. She looked so different but at the same time so familiar. Perhaps she had become healthy.
"There was a male who threatened Tamlin, he was handsome, maybe the most beautiful male I've ever seen," she commented absentmindedly, "he asked for my name... Clare Beddor."
Clare Beddor, the name weighed on your tongue. Clare, your former neighbor who was killed in such a horrendous way that no one could bear to look for too long, according to your gossip source – Elain.
Feyre had given a false name to the fairy assassin. And you could swear she didn't know what had happened to that poor girl. And perhaps you weren't the most suitable person to tell her about the event; Feyre seemed happy sharing her new experiences. And you? You would allow yourself to be selfish for a moment.
"I understand."
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Your sisters and your father went to the seasonal ball, and despite Elain's insistence, that wasn't your place. Your place was anywhere as long as it was far from high society. You certainly didn't fit the standards imposed by them, even though those who looked at you were dazzled.
"A beauty never seen before."
"I would die for features as delicate as yours."
"It's truly a shame…"
Feyre promised to come back early, just like you; she didn't like crowds and pompous people. Feyre promised to come back early.
So you did the only thing that was possible – you waited. Waited while eating, waited while talking to some servants, waited while invading Elain's garden, and waited until you got tired and chose the living room sofa as a great place to rest.
Inevitably, your eyes began to weigh, and before you realized it, sleep completely took you, plunging you into a deep state of peace, unable to hear the hurried steps through the house and the slam of the door closing.
Feyre promised to come back early.
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Feyre hated goodbyes.
Perhaps, just perhaps, you should have already imagined that this would happen. Feyre was in love with the beast, and people in love tend to do foolish things.
That didn't ease the chest pain you felt when the next morning you were informed that she had returned to the fae lands in search of her High Lord. The feelings of betrayal and sadness walked hand in hand.
At the same time, you couldn't find the strength to harbor resentment towards her. Why would you? For the first time in her life, your sister was dedicating herself to something that truly made her happy. It didn't matter if she was leaving her family behind, right? No, that mattered to you.
Nesta hated dealing with your whirlwind of emotions; she hated that you depended on someone to be happy, and she made it clear when you woke up.
"Feyre is not responsible for what you feel. You are allowing yourself to stay in this state. Stop depending on her to live."
Despite being harsh, Nesta was spot-on with her words. Feyre was finally living her dream life; it was time for you to start living yours too, without anyone dictating how you should feel.
And thinking about this led you to where you were now, with your hands covered in clay – and probably not just your hands – trying to give some shape to that earthy mass on the spinning table in the studio.
Your mind wandered through all the possibilities of sculpture. Sculpting things your fingers had memorized or even inventing new forms to call conceptual. It would be ironic if your sculptures became famous.
Humming to yourself, your fingers gently moved over the clay's edges, shaping a small sphere; you pulled five points out and rounded the edges.
"They look like fingers." Merina's voice made you jump on the stool; Merina was one of the maids you had become close to, she had such a calm and gentle voice that, if you let her, could lull you to sleep.
"Well, I hope so. I'd be very upset if they looked like something else." You laughed, still molding your supposed fingers. Merina dragged a stool to join you, after, of course, looking down the hall to make sure no one was approaching.
She looked amazed at your hands giving life to the clay. Inevitably, her mind wandered, how? How were you capable? Feeling where your mind wandered, you chuckled softly and tilted your head in a silent invitation. Merina cleared her throat and asked:
"Why a hand?"
You subtly widened your eyes; that certainly wasn't the question you were expecting. A hum came from your throat before you answered Merina.
"It's with my hands that I see; they are my eyes to the world," you replied, licking your lips as you pondered, "I don't know how I manage it; I fear there's no logical explanation for it."
Merina didn't say anything, just grunted in response. Extending your hand, you searched the table until you found a small knife; bringing it close to the sculpture, you began making small fillets with it all along the hand's length.
Merina turned to you curiously, not understanding why you were deforming the piece. She gently nudged you with a – painfully pointed – question.
"Hmm, I've been thinking about it lately, hands with scars," you made one final cut and dropped the knife. Merina reached for an old cloth to help you clean your hands, "thank you. What would it be like to see with these hands? Would the texture of things be different? Or would the sensitivity be greater?" You rambled to her.
There were so many questions to consider, and in your opinion, you could already be considered a hands expert. That made you laugh.
Merina took the cloth from your hands and brought it toward your face, cleaning some clay splatters that had strayed there.
"I hope you don't have the answers on your own. It must be a horrible pain to have your hands torn apart." She commented, lowering the cloth.
A horrible pain? Makes sense. Whoever has hands like that must have a melancholic story behind them.
"You're right."
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As promised, you lived your life the best way possible, and sculptures paved the way to your heart. Over time, your clay skills became refined, even daring to sculpt the features of your sisters; Nesta was your biggest supporter, even if she didn't admit it, there wasn't a day she didn't pass by to make sure your stock was full.
Each sister had their own shelf containing everything you thought resembled them. Elain had sculpted flowers and cakes, Nesta had books and red jewels, and Feyre had an arrow – just a sculpture, but it was the one you dedicated the most time to, whether smoothing the edges or trying to paint in the right places.
Because even though Feyre was a million miles away, you would love her all the way, and even if she never came back, you would find your way to her through the heart.
You wouldn't wait for her, but you wouldn't forget everything you had been through together.
And you might not even believe she would come back, but that tingling you felt in your fingers when you heard a knock on the door made you doubt your mental state.
It may be that besides being blind, you're also becoming deaf because hearing your sister's name from Elain's lips after so long is not a sign of good auditory nostalgia.
"Feyre?"
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TAGLIST:
@dearestdaffodils @going-through-shit
@valeridarkness @wallacewillow0773638
@harrystylesfan2686 @carnationworld
@applerubyy @saltedcoffeescotch
@esposadomd @justdreamstars
@microwaveallthedemons
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mattslolita · 1 day
Text
psycho killer - c. sturniolo ( 001. )
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in which ... a killer is terrorizing the town of boston and charmaine soon realizes she's the final girl in his twisted game.
ghostface!chris x black!fem oc
warnings ; blood , gore , death , eventual smut , angst , ghostface!chris , final girl! oc
"𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒆!"
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰
in the comfort of charmaine's home, she sat on one of the bar stools at the end of the small kitchen table — her best friends, morgan maldonado and madison filipowicz were both with her, but occupied with separate things; morgan was on the phone with who charmaine assumed was her boyfriend ( unless she felt like cheating on him ), and madison was busy making popcorn for the film they were going to watch.
"hey char, what happened to that cheesy popcorn you always have?" madison asked, as she searched the girl's fridge, "there's like, none left."
"i'm gonna be honest madi, i ate it all," charmaine shrugged, as she scrolled through her phone.
madison shook her head, and went back to the fridge, biting down on one nail as she continued searching. charmaine looked over at morgan, who was sprawled out on her couch, twirling her dark hair around her fingers, her face painted with a rosy tint and a smirk plastered on her face. the evans girl frowned, wondering who it was that she was even talking to.
"wow, chris is making you blush that hard?" charmaine teased quietly, and morgan rolled her eyes, waving her off.
"this isn't even chris, girl," morgan whispered to her friend with an eyeroll, "he doesn't really make me blush like this anymore, anyway."
charmaine nodded, but her jaw clenched at the thought of morgan cheating on chris — christopher sturniolo was morgan's boyfriend, who also happened to be charmaine and madison's best friend, too. he had two identical brothers aside from himself, and they were both best friends with the triplet brothers. charmaine has liked chris for as long as she can remember, and it always puzzled her as to how he chose morgan over her. of course, chris never knew this, and she didn't plan on telling him — it was something bound to break up their friendship ( though charmaine knew the triplets longer ).
the smell of butter wafted through charmaine's senses, telling her that madison had put the popcorn in the microwave. the filipowicz girl came and sat down on the counter next to charmaine, a small grin settling on her face. "which horror movie are we watching tonight?"
charmaine grinned back, having always loved that she and madison loved horror movies. "oh, it's definitely a friday the 13th kinda night."
"ugh, we always watch that one," morgan whined suddenly, as she sauntered into the kitchen, her arms crossed, "can we watch the craft or something?"
"can you stop being a hoe and sleeping with every guy who gives you attention?" charmaine sneered, causing madison to snort and hold back a laugh, and morgan to give her an unimpressed look.
"you say that like it's a bad thing," morgan suddenly grinned, causing charmaine to roll her eyes and shake her head, "it's not my fault i'm sex positive!"
"whatever you wanna call yourself, morgan," madison giggled, causing charmaine to stick her tongue out at morgan playfully.
"whatever, friday the 13th is it," morgan sighed, resting her elbows on the counter, "let's play something while we wait for the food."
"what're you thinking?" charmaine questioned, setting her phone on the counter and facing her best friend.
"truth or dare."
morgan grinned, and madison and charmaine shared a knowing look. "girl, is this an excuse for you to just tell madi to make a move with that one girl already?"
madison's cheeks tinted, and she rolled her eyes. "that's not happening, by the way!"
"ugh, fine!" morgan grunted, but she sent madison a pointed look, "you don't even have to pick dare if you don't want to!"
"whatever, let's just play," charmaine said, waving both girls off, "m, truth or dare?"
morgan pretended to tap her chin in thought, then she smirked at charmaine. "dare."
"i dare you to call that one strip joint and pretend you wanna get hired there."
madison's eyes widened and morgan's jaw dropped, causing charmaine to burst out laughing. "what the actual fuck kinda dare is that?"
"it's a good one, don't lie!" madison grinned, pointing to morgan. 
"fine, whatever, i'll do it," morgan said with an eyeroll.
before she could make a move to grab the phone though, it began ringing — the three best friends exchanged a glance with each other, before morgan shrugged and moved towards it. "this doesn't count as your dare by the way!"
"it's probably just steven again," morgan grinned, as she picked up the landline, bringing it up to her ear, "hello?"
madison sat on the counter idly, and charmaine scrolled through her own phone as morgan talked to whoever it was she was talking to ( charmaine wouldn't be surprised if it was another one of her side pieces ). but from the way morgan's eyebrows furrowed, something was off.
"who is it?" charmaine mouthed her, madison raising her eyebrows expectantly.
"i don't even know," morgan mumbled, holding the phone away from her momentarily, "it's just fucking silence."
"here, let me see," madison said, hopping off the counter and going to grab the phone from morgan, "hello?"
but madison was met with silence as well, causing all three girls to share a look with each other. finally, charmaine shrugged and walked over to the phone, taking it from madison and holding it up to her ear. "hello?"
"hello? who's this?"
charmaine's eyes widened, causing morgan and madison to watch closely. "who're you tryna get to?"
"i don't know," the voice said, and charmaine felt a chill down her spine. it sounded much too deep to be normal, but something about it was highly attractive.
"well, you better figure it out," charmaine said, "bye have a good night."
"wait, don't hang up!" the voice said, and for some reason, charmaine's eyebrows rose and she didn't, "i wanna talk to you."
"yeah, they got like, five hundred numbers for shit like that," charmaine said, shaking her head, "see ya."
charmaine hung the phone before they had a chance to reply again, and both girls looked at her curiously. "so who was it?"
"i don't even know, some weirdo saying they wanted to talk to me," charmaine shrugged, and morgan grinned at the girl.
"well it's about time somebody wants to talk to you," morgan snickered, "you need to get a man."
"morgan, shut the fuck up," madison said, crinkling her nose and slapping the girl's shoulder, "she doesn't need to get anyone. just because you fucked half the school behind chris's back, doesn't mean everyone wants to do that same thing."
morgan's jaw dropped at what madison had said — truth was, morgan was always knocking charmaine for not wanting to just get with anybody randomly. she would take a dig at her about that stuff around charmaine and all her other friends too, which really upset her, being that she was supposed to be her best friend; charmaine guessed madison just finally got tired of it.
"wow, madi, didn't know you had the capability of being mean to anyone," morgan mumbled, and charmaine snorted.
"talking about everybody all the time just pisses me off," madison shrugged, turning to give charmaine a smile, "especially when it's about my girl."
before charmaine could respond to madi, the phone rang again, much to to her disappointment. with a groan, charmaine picked up the phone once again. "hello?"
"looks like i called the wrong number again," the voice said, and this time, charmaine rolled her eyes amusedly.
"yeah, i guess you did," charmaine sighed, sitting on the counter, "why did you redial it again?"
"to hear that pretty voice," he purred, and charmaine felt her cheeks get warm.
a small smile graced her features as she began swinging her feet back and forth. madison was now in the living room on her phone, and morgan; well, she was somewhere in the house. 
"huh," charmaine said, looking around.
"what's your name?"
charmaine chuckled, holding the phone away from her and looking at it in disbelief. "no way you just asked me that, dude."
"what's wrong with asking your name, pretty girl?" he asked, and for a split second, charmaine's eyebrows furrowed — she felt like she somewhat recognized the voice.
"first of all, i've seen too many horror movies to be telling you my name like that," charmaine said, as the microwave went off, signaling the popcorn was finished, "second, why do you wanna know my name?"
"cause i wanna know who i'm looking at," he said lowly, causing charmaine to immediately jump off the counter.
"what did you just say?" she asked nervously, looking around, seeing madison still sitting on the couch. morgan was still nowhere to be found.
"i said i want to know who i'm talking to," he said humorously, causing charmaine's eyebrows to furrow once again.
"yeah, nice try, that's not what you said," charmaine said seriously, beginning to grow annoyed, "look, find someone else to be all creepy with, i'm done here. bye."
"hang on-"
"it was funny at first, but you took it too far!" charmaine said.
"don't you-!"
before he could get another word out of his mouth, charmaine clicked the line off and set the phone back on its hook with a loud sigh. madison's head snapped up, and she looked up to see charmaine with her hands on her hips.
"everything okay, char?" madison asked, making her way over to the girl, "did they ever tell you who they were?"
"no, just some asshole being creepy as fuck," charmaine admitted, rubbing her temples with both her hands. "i swear-"
the phone rang, yet again.
💌 lil
i giggled when i first wrote this ngl. lmk how y'all like it so far😏.
@muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @guccifrog @prettiest-poision @mrssturnioloo @mattsivy @mattsturniolosleftnut @e1ias3 @eyeliketoeatpoosay @breeloveschris @mayhem-72 @l0akkz @summerssover
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turtletaubwrites · 2 days
Text
Misty Eyes ~ Masterlist
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THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.
Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)
Ao3 Link
Summary: You were the weakest member of the Donquixote Family, so Doflamingo found another way you could serve him. Until your childhood crush found you, freeing you from those chains. What will Law expect in return?
Author's Note: PLEASE heed the tags below, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
Reader is a devil fruit user who was raised with the family, and groomed by Doflamingo. When this fic starts, she had been Doffy's lover for two years (their sexual relationship didn't start until her early twenties). Reader leaves with Law when the fic begins, but there will be graphic flashbacks of memories with Doffy throughout the story.
Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags To Be Added
!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore
Thank you @pinejayy for this delicious request!! I went a little overboard 😅
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Part 1 ~ (3015) | Part 2 ~ (3377) | Part 3 ~ (5768) | Part 4 |
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| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |
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Text
Kinkmas (11)- The Grinch Who Stole Her Heart
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Wanda X Reader 18+
Summary: When a certain witch discovers your hate for Christmas, she can't help but try her best into convincing you to love the festive season.
Word Count: 10.8k 
Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Christmas Fluff, Flirting, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Christmas Decorating, Gingerbread houses, Ice Skating, Snowball Fights, Soft Smut, First time, Inexperienced Wanda/Experienced Reader, Fingering, Praise, Confessions, Aftercare 
Kinkmas Masterlist
---
Gentle chatter and a tranquil, festive atmosphere wrapped around the common room of the compound like a warm, cosy blanket, most of the team bunched up on various sofas with snacks ready in hand, waiting for Wanda to finally press the play button to start Home Alone on the big screen.
The witch, however, was not ready to start the movie, her eyes flickering over the content and excited faces of the team, searching for one individual in particular.
You.
Where were you?
"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked, puzzled, the soft murmur in the room going quiet, curious and confused gazes meeting one another at the brunette's question, apprehensive to tell the truth.
Natasha carefully placed down the bowl of popcorn that was in her lap, inadvertently stopping Clint from stealing more of the treat which made him grumble a little, the redhead looking between the rest of the team, not wanting to dampen the young woman's mood.
It had become abundantly clear over the last few days and since the start of December that Wanda was in love with the idea of Christmas and all the festive traditions, the team having tried their best to keep you away from her, despite the witch subconsciously seeking you out, her mind unable to explain why her heart would flutter in your presence, her mood always being lifted by you.
"Y/n isn't a 'fan' of Christmas," Natasha cautiously phrases her words, not wanting to ruin the mood that was so gratefully appreciated in the room, the uplifted mood of Christmas enabling the mighty Avengers to have some time to relax and spend together as a family.
"What?" Wanda's tone signalling her confusion at how someone could possibly not like Christmas, her head tilting in her usual manner, Pietro speeding from the sofa to stand with his sister, seemingly just as baffled.
"How can she not be a fan of Christmas?" Pietro adds, just as obsessed with the festive season as his sister, his love for it being driven by the sheer amount of food and presents though.
"She just..." Natasha trails off, thinking how to explain your lack of jolliness, her eyes flickering to Clint for a little help. The archer simply shrugs, her leg kicking back at his shin for his lack of usefulness, a small yelp escaping him as he grabs the popcorn bowl, deciding that the food would be a sufficient apology from her.
"She hates it," Tony bluntly puts it, everyone's head turning from the sofas to the billionaire in the kitchen, fixing himself a ridiculously large hot chocolate in the beautifully decorated kitchen, annoyance written across Steve and Natasha's face as they wanted to keep it a peaceful evening.
"She doesn't 'hate' it," Steve tries to reason, his blue eyes flickering towards Sam and Bucky who are disinterested in what's going on, most likely bickering between themselves over who gets more room on the sofa.
"Oh come on Capsicle," Tony teases, Steve's cheeks darkening at the nickname the man uses for him, mumbling under his breath an 'oh god' at the billionaire's mischievous tone. "She hates it. End of. We've all tried to get her to like it but she just refuses to enjoy the Christmas spirit," he says whilst placing his steaming mug down, flopping onto his section of the sofa and asking Friday to lower the lights, wanting to watch the film now. "Now, are we going to watch the film or not?" He asks, clearly not bothered by your absence.
"Not all of us have tried," Wanda says after a moment, tossing the remote to Natasha, hoping she'd somehow keep the boys in check, knowing the chaos the entire team could cause without her magic there to stop objects flying across the room. "Start the film without me," Wanda calls out, walking out of the room, determined to find your room and figure out a way to persuade you into falling in love with the magical season.
Despite not figuring out a plan, the brunette knocks on your door with purpose, waiting outside for you to open up, various thoughts flooding through her mind as she impatiently plays with the rings on her fingers.
Eventually, you open your bedroom door, your brow raising at her current outfit, a smug smirk creeping onto your lips. The Christmas themed pyjamas amused you as you let your eyes wander down the various festive items decorating the fabric, the red and green chequered pants slightly too long for her as they pooled around her ankles, the fluffy socks further entertaining you as you stood in a simple, thin shirt and joggers, a stark contrast to her holiday themed get up.
"What-"
"Why do you hate Christmas?" she asks, enticing green eyes gazing into yours curiously, your eyes widening at her forward question, a soft chuckle escaping you, Wanda unable to stop the swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the sound.
"Why do you love Christmas?" You counter, leaning against the door frame as you see various emotions flicker across her face, your features softening at her adorably annoyed state.
"Why do I love Christmas?" She repeats almost shocked, still baffled at the whole ordeal, "It's just magical," her tone laced with the love she has for the time of year. "It's a time to spend with family, to give gifts, to have fun with silly traditions," she lists, watching closely to your reactions as your soft expression remains uninterested.
"Just seems like a lot of effort to me," you casually say, her brows furrowing at your words, mouth parting and closing, unsure of what to say. "Is that all you wanted to ask? I'm currently in the middle of a mission report," your tone is annoyingly soft and calm, determination brewing in Wanda to show you how amazing Christmas was but still unsure how.
"No, I..." she trails off for a moment, tilting her head marginally to the side as she thinks hard about how to convince you. "Do you really hate it?" She asks, tone trying her best to hide the disappointment that filled her, your smile softening, body pushing yourself off the frame of the door to look at her properly, still amused at her clothing.
"It's just not for me, Wanda," your tone apologetic as you gathered how much she loved the season, your heart clenching a little at the despondent look that took over her face, wishing you could ensure a smile was always on her lips, only ever wanting her to be happy.
"Ok," she whispers, slowly nodding at your words and turning around to retreat to where the rest of the team was, a sudden idea entering her mind as she hears you shutting the door. "Give me one week," her tone desperate and rushed as your hand halted, opening the door with a confused look, laughing softly as she quickly walked back over to the door, fluffy socks sliding a little on the smooth floor.
"What?" your tone matches the curiosity engraved on your face, smile widening at the glint of hope in her eyes.
"Give me one week to show you how magical Christmas is," she explains further, her enchanting green eyes almost putting you under a spell, part of you contemplating giving into her despite your dislike for everything about December 25th. Your face shows your conflicted state, Wanda taking your delayed response as a win, her nose scrunching up in a way that has your heart beating wildly in your chest, an inexplicable onrush of affection flowing through you. "Please?" she adds, excitement creeping into he tone as you sigh out heavily, unable to resist the soft spot you had for her, a smile gracing your features.
"One week," you begrudgingly say, a smile still present on your face though as her lips stretch into a wide grin, joy filling her as various ideas flood through her mind, ready to warm you up to the season.
***
"I'm not so sure you're trying to convince me," you mutter, lifting the heavy box of decorations and trudging your way towards her room, "I feel like you're just using me for slave labour," you grumble, peaking over the box to watch your step, bumping into the corner of the door frame before dropping the box onto the floor, a rattle of baubles filling the room.
"If you stopped complaining and acting like the grinch this would be a whole lot easier," she teases, crouching down and opening the box, looking up at you with a small smirk that has you rolling your eyes, happiness taking over your chest as you follow her command.
"The grinch is an icon," you mumble, flickering your gaze away from the aesthetic decorations in the box and into her alluring green, finding them far more interesting than the shiny plastic objects.
"Yeah? And why is that?" Her tone is playful and cheerful, eliciting an involuntary smile from you as you struggle to maintain your composure near her, the crush you thought you had gotten over seeming to resurface, her brow raising expectantly as she waits for you to continue.
"He lives in a mountain with his dog, away from people, sounds like heaven to me," your tone slightly sarcastic, earning a soft laughter from her, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. Her gaze drifts away from you as her own heart starts to beat wildly in her chest at being able to spend time with you, her lips pulling up into a shy smile. "And he's green," you add, a humorous grin taking over your face, cracking her composure.
A giggle leaves her lips at your tone, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her laugh, her eyes meeting yours with an amused glimmer in them, your smile widening as warmth floods through you in a tender manner.
"What's so special about the colour green?" She manages to ask when she stops laughing, entertained by your words, reluctantly turning her back away from you as she moves towards the tree in her room with a bundle of lights, beckoning you over as she untangles them, wanting your help to decorate her room as she hadn't had time to do it yet.
It's the colour of your eyes is what you initially think of saying, a small blush appearing on your cheeks as you rethink an answer, grateful she wasn't looking at you as you thought it, her head soon looking back over her shoulder as you don't answer.
"I don't know," you unconvincingly respond, shoulders shrugging, "It's just a cool colour." Wanda chuckles, clearly not believing your vague answer as she looks at your form over her shoulder, playfully shaking her head before continuing to wrap the lights around the pine tree while you gradually make your way over to her, your attention flickering over to her desk.
"Oh my god," you laugh out, admiring the framed photograph of Wanda and Pietro dressed up for Halloween in Sokovia, chuckling at their ridiculous outfits. "Pietro looks like Fury with that eye patch," you snicker out, Wanda rushing over to you and sliding the photo out of your hands, embarrassed by her toothy grin in it, a smile still on her face as she hears your genuine laugh, her gaze moving to the photo of her and her brother that she always loved.
"He wanted to be his own version of a pirate," she explains with a nostalgic tone, placing down the photo while you just admire her features, getting lost in thought again, the feelings you tried to bury trying their best to take over you as you simply smile at her softly, a tender expression taking over her face at your enamoured gaze.
"I bet he was just as annoying as a child as he is now," you tease, making her laugh again, your heart melting at being able to hear the sound again, the brunette placing an ornament in your hand to stop you procrastinating, sensing your attempt at stalling her plans.
"Even more," she jokes, her fingers brushing over yours softly, the touch engraved in your memory as they pull away from you, Wanda snapping you out of your thoughts as she continues. "Now come on, we have a tree to decorate," her tone adding excitement to it as you let out a displeased grumble, still smiling at her though.
Maybe, just maybe, the next week wasn't going to be as bad as you thought.
***
"I hope you know I'm only here because you promised me food," you mumble whilst your hand supports your head as you sit at the kitchen island, eyes wandering around the various decorations littered around the room then towards the woman in front of you, observing how she rolls out the gingerbread.
A soft, genuine smile takes over her face in amusement, her gaze lifting to meet your form watching her attentively, chuckling softly as she continues to measure out the dimensions for the house she intended on making, a playful and teasing expression taking over her angelic features.
"Is that so?" she asks, slicing through the dough she's rolled to create the walls of the house, your eyes trained on the deft way her fingers move, gaze lifting to watch her concentrate, in awe of her working. You knew Wanda loved to cook and bake, but to watch her properly, almost intimately, made you truly appreciate her love for the hobby.
"Yep," you say while popping the 'p', smiling at the way she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, a streak of powdered sugar visible against her skin, your teeth biting down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing at her cute state.
"Well if someone wants to eat they have to help," her tone reprimanding you for not helping her at all so far.
"I've helped," you say, pretending to take offence as she uses her magic to softly push you off the stool at the kitchen island, a small groan leaving you as you eventually wander around the kitchen to stand next to her. "Does moral support not mean anything anymore?" you mutter as she hands you a spoon, your fake mood crumbling away at the way she peers up at you with a raised brow, the streak of sugar making you smile.
"What?" she laughs out when you end up staring at her forehead too long, a nervous expression on her face as you grab a cloth from the countertop and delicately wipe away the mess on her skin, her cheeks a similar colour to her magic as she tries to control her emotions, a shy smile taking over her features as you meet her gaze with an affectionate look.
"There's my contribution," you joke, tossing the cloth back onto the countertop as Wanda sees the small smear of powdered sugar on the fabric, the wave of embarrassment never coming as you continue to smile at her, her head shaking at your antics.
"You're not getting out of it that easy," she chuckles out, setting up the bowl for you to make the icing in, handing you everything you'd need before checking on the gingerbread that was in the oven, making sure everything was going to plan.
After you've made the icing and the dough is baked to perfection as well as having cooled down, Wanda starts to put together the house with your help, deciding to ask Friday to help encourage the festive spirit by getting them to play the witch's Christmas playlist, an amused glint present in your eyes as you picture her listening to the music on her own, most likely dancing to each tune.
Your fingers carefully hold the wall of gingerbread, Wanda delicately piping the icing along the edges to help stabilise the structure, the smell of the freshly made treat making your mouth yearn to taste the delicious flavours, the other woman humming the tune to the song that was playing as you assembled the house together. Quicker than you expected, you had the house made and just in need of decorating, your gaze now on Wanda who softly sang the lyrics to 'Last Christmas', a mischievous smile taking over your face.
As if sensing your gaze on her, she met your admiring stare, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she lifts the spoon from the icing bowl, using it as a microphone as she keeps her enchanting eyes on you.
"Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?" she sings, her voice angelic as you can't help but watch in awe as she subtly dances near you, walking behind your body and enticing you to follow her. "Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me," her gentle voice sounding around the room, blessing your ears as she sings the iconic song, "'Happy Christmas', I wrapped it up and sent it, with a note saying 'I love you' I meant it, now I know what a fool I've been." Her words further lure you into being amazed by her, your body turning once again to follow her movements, her body next to yours as she places the bowls she's just collected on the countertop, her eyes lifting up to meet your enamoured gaze, "But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again." Your breath hitches at the way her eyes subconsciously drift to your lips before flickering back up, the soft, loving glint evident in her eyes as the gaze lingers, her only breaking the gaze when the desire to kiss you becomes too strong.
"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day-"
"You sold it on ebay," you interrupt, a teasing smile on your lips as you steal the piping bag from her, a laugh spilling from her lips at your immature behaviour. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to Marks and Spencers," her hand lightly slaps your arm as you 'ruined' the chorus for her, her smile almost reaching her ears though at the pure joy you managed to fill her with, your arms raising in surrender as you see wisps of magic flicker at her fingers, knowing how she could torture you with ticklish sensations like she did a couple days ago when decorating the tree. "Ok, ok," you laugh out in surrender as the red tendrils brush over your skin, "Tesco extra instead of Marks and Spencers?"
She simply smacks you lightly once again on the shoulder, her hand lingering against your body before pulling back, rolling her eyes at your amused and smug smile, cheekily squeezing a little of the icing onto your finger to taste it.
"Mhmm delicious," you softly moan at the sweet treat, exaggerating your love for the simple food you made, Wanda stealing the bag back from you and pointing it at you like it was a weapon.
"Stop eating all the decorations," she mutters, using her magic to push away the bowl full of sprinkles, laughing softly at the way your hand misses and hits the table, a small pout forming on your lips.
"Fine," you grumble as she hands you the piping bag back, letting you have full reign on decorating the gingerbread house, something she'd inevitably regret.
***
A couple hours later you're sprawled out against the sofa, a bowl of the broken gingerbread house in your lap as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, once again admiring her features while she was fully immersed in whatever was playing on the tv.
Your eyes focus on each delicate feature of her face, trailing over the slight dust of pink on her cheeks, a few strands of brunette locks framing her face perfectly and the gentle slope of her nose before spending a little more time admiring her plump lips and eventually settling on her mesmerising eyes. Your heart clenched a little at her beauty, your gaze eventually being torn away from her as you knew you shouldn't think of her as more of a friend, to get lost in fantasy of what it would feel like to be with her all over again as you remember the pain of pushing it all down.
The soft giggle that left her lips immediately knocked you out of your thoughts, the smile that seemed ever present near her emerging once again as you raised your brow at her when you met her gaze, her nose scrunching in that captivating manner as red wisps form at the tips of her fingers once again.
"I thought we were going to share the gingerbread," She teases lightly, using her magic to steal a piece from you, your hand wrapping protectively around your bowl of treats.
"Woah, this is mine Maximoff," you defensively say, using her surname playfully, addicted to the taste of the icing you used to cover most of the crisp gingerbread, the aim of your decorations to give you a sugar overload. "I decorated it," you mumble, squinting your eyes at her when she floats over a larger piece from the bowl in faux annoyance, your hands placing the bowl down as there way no way you'd be able to stop her magic, your eyes watching with interest how the red tendrils delicately flow through the air.
"And I made it," she counters, biting into the corner of the roof, a pleased noise escaping her at the taste of it, the festive spirit further consuming her as the taste brings back many memories of past Christmases, a nostalgic look taking over her face momentarily.
"I thought you were trying to convince me to like Christmas," you joke as you lean back against the sofa, eyes trained on her as she raises her brow at your relaxed manner, continuing to eat her piece of gingerbread.
"I am, is it working?" She asks, smiling at you hopefully, her enthralling green solely focused on you making it hard to think straight and come up with your usual sarcastic remark. You pause for a moment, Wanda's head tilting in curiosity as you remain silent, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you gather yourself together.
"It would be if I got to eat all the gingerbread," you tease eventually, switching your gaze to something other than her alluring beauty, eyes landing on the various sweets stuck on the white icing.
"Is it actually working though?" She asks again, voice holding a more serious and intrigued tone compared to her joking tone, her green containing a hint of nerves as she really hoped it was.
Your mouth opens and closes to respond, unsure of what to say. If you were being honest, you didn't love the festive season any more, you simply enjoyed the last three days because you were with her.
"It hasn't changed my opinion on Christmas," you say softly, her face dropping a little making you continue, "But, I have had so much fun over the last few days, I... I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you fix her mood instantly, a blush taking over her face this time, her gaze flickering away from you, teeth biting down softly on her lower lip to try and contain her smile.
"Yeah?" she murmurs out a little timidly, gathering the courage to meet your softening gaze once more, the two of you smiling at each other, unaware of the swirling emotions in both of you. "Well still I've got four more days to fix that," she says, tone determined and adamant that she would persuade you, your smile growing that little bit wider at her confidence, part of you hoping she was right just to see that smile on her face.
***
"I'm not so sure about this Wanda," your voice a little shaky as your fingers grip the edge of the wall as tightly as possible, the ice skates you were wearing sliding on the ice in a manner than unnerved you, your eyes lifting to find Wanda only to see her skating off skilfully, turning back to you with a teasing look.
"Come on, I promise it's fun," she calls back, swarms of people brushing past you, further adding to your nerves as you hated how unstable you felt, her green eyes meeting yours through the crowd, sensing how uncomfortable you felt.
You watched a little embarrassed as she effortlessly skated over to you, the sound of screaming children nearby and the scratching of ice being blocked out as she comes closer to you, a different kind of anxiety flowing through you at her little smirk.
"Is the infamous Y/n, world hero and Avenger, scared of ice skating?" she teases softly, your eyes rolling at her comment. Just because you were an Avenger didn't mean you enjoyed activities like this.
"No..." you trailed off, your foot slipping slightly, Wanda watching how your body immediately tensed, knuckles bleeding white at your grip on the edge of the wall, her hand moving to your lower back to keep you stable, wanting to make sure you were alright. "Maybe just a little," you confess quietly, hoping she wouldn't find it a problem, her smile turning a little sympathetic. "It's scary ok? Steve got stuck in ice for like seventy plus years in it so it must be very dangerous," you explain, a genuine laugh slipping past her lips at your reasoning.
"It was only sixty six years," she corrects, your head shaking a little at her words, your mind processing where her hand was, a wave of butterflies taking over your body as your fingers adjust their grip on the cold edge.
"Do you trust me?" Her voice a gentle whisper, your mind focussing on her, only her as she looks at you as if you were the only thing going on in the ice rink, your head nodding as you couldn't muster any words to leave your mouth, far too nervous to not embarrass yourself any further.
Her hands gently clasp yours, her fingers intimately interlocking with yours, her soft gaze meeting your hesitant one, her feet guiding her backwards as she slides across the ice, pulling you carefully with her.
"Bend your knees a little," she instructs, trying to guide you into the best position so you wouldn't fall. You try to listen to her but the feeling of her impossibly soft hands in yours makes all common sense leave your mind, your body just about listening to her instructions. "Don't lean too far forwards if you don't want to fall," she playfully whispers, keeping you close to her as she can tell it's keeping you calm, her intoxicating perfume reaching your senses and further drowning you in the thought of her. "That's it," she praises softly, a small smile reaching your lips as you skate slightly on your own, still tightly gripping onto her, not that she minded.
The two of you did a few laps around the ring, your grip on her gradually decreasing as your confidence grew, the two of you stopping by a wall to relax for a moment, your cheeks and noses tinted pink from the cold room, smiles engraved on both of your faces.
Your smile widens when you see a child fall over, a snicker leaving your lips as you can't help it, Wanda playfully pushing you at your reaction, reprimanding your behaviour as the mother briefly looks over towards you two in annoyance, her child's face pulling into distress. Panic flashes across your face as you slip a little, your arm shooting out to wrap around hers, pulling yourself into her body, flush against her, making both of your blushes darken a little, her arm wrapping around you to keep you upright.
"Don't," you mumble when you feel her laugh against you, your body melting against hers as she keeps you stable and secure, her body also helping you keep warm.
"Don't what? Tease you?" She chuckles out, your head turning to meet her amused and mischievous gaze, breath hitching a little as you underestimated the space between you, your lips mere inches away from hers, both of your gazes drifting down to one another's mouths.
The heat that washes over you when her slightly darkened green meet yours causes you to straighten your back, pulling yourself further away from her face, your hand hesitantly reaching further down her arm to her fingers, interlocking them once again to try and keep your thoughts on anything but the longing to feel her lips on yours, a brief moment of courage washing through you when she doesn't pull back.
"I won't tease you," she whispers out once she's gotten control over her pounding heart, her cheeks still tinted pink as she smiles at your hand holding hers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, grateful for you being braver than her and initiating something. "But that doesn't mean I won't tell Nat," a soft laugh leaves you as you meet her eyes once more, sensing the mirth in them as she imagined the various ways the Russian would torment you.
"I'm never going to hear the end of it," you mumble, her nose scrunching at your tone, the action making you think it was worth any amount of teasing comments that Natasha could throw at you, the warmth that wrapped around your heart at her expression worth anything in the world as she drags you away from the wall again, skating with you, hand in hand.
***
A relentless pounding at your door has you reluctantly rolling out of bed, in dire need of a nap after the new workout Natasha wanted to try with you, your body ready to sink into your soft mattress and relax for just a little bit.
"You better have some more gingerbread," you mutter as you hear Wanda call your name through the door, your hand turning your door handle and opening, revealing the woman who consumed all your thoughts. "What-" A thick winter coat was thrown at you, your body not expecting the item making you take a step back, your eyes widening at Wanda in confusion as you properly took a hold of the clothing item, the coat a contrast to your oversized shirt and joggers.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sings in a teasing voice, a groan leaving your lips at the movie reference, a tired sigh leaving your lips.
"I just wanna sleep," you whine out as she simply walks into your room as you turn away, smiling at the way you still comply to her question, searching through your wardrobe for a thick jumper and pants, not wanting to freeze in the cold as snowflakes gracefully spilled from the sky, the grass surrounding the compound drowning in the white blanket of snow.
"You can sleep later," her tone amused at the way you shake your head at her, amazed at the way she has you wrapped around her finger as you shrug on the coat she tossed you, turning your head and sending a pointed look.
"This better be worth it," you mumble, her body coming closer to yours and fixing your hood as it was sticking out weird, her cold fingers brushing the back of your neck causing you to wake up a little more.
"Spending time with me is always worth it," she whispers, recalling how you confessed to her how you enjoyed being with her, a smile creeping onto your lips as you chuckle at her words, her eyes peering up into yours as you let her fix your outfit, unable to stop the warmth bubbling inside you.
"That is true," you murmur ever so softly, her smile widening as she lets her hands drift to your shoulders to smooth the coat out, growing in confidence near you after being together for the last four days constantly. "But sleep is pretty amazing too," you mumble, earning her signature nose scrunch, your heart beating that little bit faster at the enamoured look in her eyes.
"Come on," she sighs out, walking behind you and pushing you towards the door, struggling a little as you use your strength to keep you planted.
"Save me bed! She's trying to kidnap me," you call out dramatically, chuckling as she uses her magic to push you out of the door, you calling out of your bed once more, earning another string of laughter from her as she leads you out of the compound, walking side by side with you, letting your bodies brush.
A chill takes over your body as you trudge your way through the snow that's piling up, the sound of satisfying crunches and nearby birds filling the air as you let Wanda lead you to the best place to build her desired snowman. You watch with an affectionate gaze at her thick gloves and the scarf that's wrapped so tightly around her neck, the bobble hat that she stole from you moving with each step she takes, her head looking her shoulder at you, her smile almost reaching her ears.
You follow her until she stops, deciding this was the best location to build it, her eyes looking back at the compound and ensuring you'd be able to see it from the large window in the common room, unaware of the redhead and archer sitting peacefully together, curious as to what you two were doing, a glint of realisation flickering across Natasha's face.
Unable to stop yourself, you give into the temptation of crouching down in the snow, grabbing a handful of it and moulding it into the shape of a large snowball, trying to perfect the shape to make it easier to throw.
"Hey Wanda?" You call out innocently, lining up your shot as you wait for her to turn around, her eyes glimmering with joy before widening, unable to move out of the way as the snow crashes against her body, exploding into various fragments of white dust, a gasp leaving her lips.
You can't help but laugh wholeheartedly at her reaction, an uncontrollable laughter escaping you as happiness consumes you entirely, shock present on her face to begin with before revenge takes over, taking advantage of your distracted state and grabbing a handful of snow, ready to throw it back at you.
Your laughter is interrupted when she headshots you with the snowball, disbelief evident on your face as her smile grows smug, a dangerous chuckle leaving you making her smile slowly fade, mischief evident on your face. At your expression, Wanda starts to run, laughter spilling from her lips as she gets a head start, your legs swiftly moving to catch up with her.
"Oh no you don't," you call out, your smile engraved on your face as you chase after, using your abilities to help you catch up to her. You can't stop the genuine laughter that escapes you as you dodge the snowballs her magic throws at you blindly, your body gradually catching up to her, inching closer as the two of you trample through the snow like idiots, not caring about anything else in the world but one another. Eventually, your arm wraps around her middle, pulling her closer to your body as you grab a load of snow with your other hand, intending on dropping it on her head, your plan not working as you both go tumbling in the snow, laughter still sounding around the two of you. "Gotcha," you chuckle out as you land on top of her, her hands holding onto your shoulders as your body is flush against hers, your hand cupping the back of her head protectively and the other bracing your body above hers.
Her breath gently fans across your face as you both pant a little from the sudden running, your eyes getting lost in hers as she smiles up at you angelically, your gaze eventually drifting across her features, still stunned by her beauty. Your gaze settles on her lips, watching how she subtly wets her lower lip before her teeth gently bite down on it, your eyes flickering up to her softening green, building up to ask her the question you've wanted to for ages.
"Can.... Can I kiss you?" your voice a barely audible whisper, the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage deafening in your ears as you await a response, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering vigorously.
"Took you long enough to ask," she murmurs playfully, having heard your thoughts about her eyes all those days ago, piecing together that you may have felt the same way about her as she did towards you.
Her fingers fisted against the hem of your coat and pulled you down into her body, claiming your lips in the way you both longed for. You kissed her tenderly, her lips pressing over yours just as affectionately, the cold tip of her nose brushing against yours as you got lost in the moment together. Your eyes fluttered shut to savour the feeling of her mouth, how gentle and soft it was as you weren't guaranteed another chance, another kiss, so you forced your racing thoughts to stop for a moment as your lips moved against hers lovingly, wanting to engrave the feeling into your mind forever. The kiss was shy and timid, your lips remaining together for mere seconds, but the intimacy of it made your head spin with the thought of her. The thought of her body pressed against yours, her mouth pressed against yours, forehead leaning against yours and arms pulling you impossibly closer, it was all too much. You were utterly mesmerised by her. Everything just felt so pure, sogenuine, so... intimate that it made you sigh gently into her mouth, pulling back with nothing but love evident in your eyes as she matched your tender gaze, just as obsessed with you as you were her.
"I told you this would be worth it," she whispers against you, her lips gently brushing yours, enticing you into gently claiming hers once more, smiling into her mouth.
"It really was," you murmur lovingly against her, her head hiding against your shoulder as she can't stop the wide smile appearing on her face, her nose scrunching up once more as you melt against her body, joy coursing through you at what just happened.
She kissed you.
You actually just kissed her.
A wave of giddiness overtook you as you grinned at her when she pulled back from your body, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as her hands left your body, your mind paying no attention to it as she looked at you in that adoring manner, consuming your thoughts.
What you didn't expect was to feel snow hitting the back of your head, an adorable laugh leaving her at her playful actions, disbelief evident on your face. The feeling of betrayal immediately left you at the heavenly noise that spills delicately from her, your head shaking to remove the snow in your hair as she cups your cheek, guiding you back down for an apologetic kiss, the two of you unable to stop smiling.
Another individual who couldn't stop smiling was Natasha who watched the scene unfold through the window with Clint, glad that you finally acted on your crush and helped her win the bet with the archer. He grumbled as he reached for his wallet, searching for the desired note as a sigh of relief left the redhead when you started to walk hand in hand through the snow, finding somewhere else to finally build the snowman.
***
Humming to yourself, you found yourself in Wanda's room again, this time sprawled out of her bed, waiting for the witch to return with the snacks for the movie night she planned for you. It was going to be a Christmas marathon, starting with Home Alone one and two, then onto the Grinch so Wanda could tease you about your 'icon' and then finally Elf as she was sure you'd be asleep by then, having discovered how much you loved to lay in bed yesterday when you fell asleep during the first attempt at the marathon, much to her amusement. This time, however, she planned to keep you awake with food and potentially a cuddle as the two of you swiftly discovered how much you both craved physical touch, even if it was something small like holding hands, a smile growing on her lips as she enters the room, remembering the various instances of you subtly reaching for her hand and interlocking your fingers.
A soft chuckle leaves her lips at the way your head raises off the bed at the sound of the door shutting, your eyes growing curious when you see the bowl in her hands, instantly perking up and eager to know what she brought. When your eyes saw the popcorn in the bowl, your smile widened, moving around on her bed so that your back was against the pillow at the headboard, arm raising to welcome her body against your side, the other woman complying to your silent request.
The feeling of her body snuggling against yours caused a grin to break out on your face, your heart unable to comprehend the sheer joy you felt over the last few days, grateful for her making such an impact on your life.
"You're incredible," you murmur softly when she places the bowl into your lap, your lips pressing to her temple, the art of being affectionate with one another natural to you both.
"Are you only saying that because I brought food?" she teases, carefully picking up a piece of the sweet and salty treat and placing it into her mouth, her head tilting to rest against your shoulder as she uses her magic to bring the remote closer to you both, her hand effortlessly grabbing it and starting the first film of the night.
"No, I'm saying that because you are the most amazing and beautiful woman I know," you whisper against her hair, earning a blush at your charming words. "Who just happens to always bring me food," you add teasingly, earning a playful pinch to your side, a small yelp leaving you.
"Shhh, just watch the film Detka," she murmurs, your smile widening at the endearment, not commenting on it as she shuffles her body closer to you, her fingers playing with whatever part of your shirt she can reach as the two of you delve into the world of Christmas cinema, content with being one another.
As the film plays on, without even realising it, your hand rests on her thigh, tracing idle patterns against the thin fabric of her pyjama pants, Wanda's cheeks a similar colour to her festive clothing as her thoughts go down a sinful route. She can't help the warmth that pools between her thighs at your actions, your hand high up on her thigh as your toned body presses into her, her mind replaying the image of you working out earlier, the way your body effortlessly showed signs of strength and stamina, her eyes having a hard time from tearing away from your hands, watching as your veins showed slightly, further adding to the arousal that started to build within her as she got lost in thought.
Hesitantly, she tilted her head to rest at the crook of your neck, her lips softly pressing a kiss there as she knew you weren't paying attention to the film, your thoughts growing louder as you replay all your memories with the brunette, the overwhelming amount of happiness and love you felt allowing the witch to hear them. To try and gain your attention, she pressed another kiss to your neck, your breath hitching at the action as your hand freezes at her thigh, her lips burning against your skin as your body grows warmer at her suggestive move.
"Detka," she sighs out, her breath fanning across your skin as she pulls back from your neck, her green eyes meeting yours, desire but also nervousness shimmering them.
"Yes?" you whisper out, gaze subconsciously drifting to her lips, remembering how addictive they are, your own eyes darkening as your gaze lingers, unable to look at anything else.
"I don't think either of us are watching the film," her voice is barely audible as she murmurs the words, tilting her head slightly, the action causing her lips to inch closer to yours, the movement subtly seductive as you wait for her to make the move, sensing a bit of indecision from her.
"I don't think we are," your tone lowering a little, patiently waiting for her, not wanting her to do anything she'd regret.
"I wonder what else we could possibly do..." she trails off, smiling a little shyly, biting down on her lower lip and fuck, you don't think you've ever felt so hot before, the sight of her intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.
"I have no idea," you whisper back with a small smirk, tilting your head down so that your lips were brushing over hers gently, not applying enough pressure to give her what she wanted, your eyes watching how hers flutter shut, awaiting your mouth. "What do you suggest?"
"I think... I think we should kiss," she rasps out, moving her body so that she was facing you properly, your brow raising a little at her words as your smile grows, fingers moving to brush back a few stray strands of her hair back, eventually letting your hand rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw and bringing her a little closer.
Your eyes flicker over all of her features, admiring them all while waiting for her to lower her face, the brunette only doing so marginally, mirroring your actions and wanting to memorise every inch of your beauty.
It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.
When she feels like she's admired you enough and savoured the moment, she kisses you. She kisses you softly and tentatively to begin with as you explore each other's mouths, her actions soon growing a little more confident as the kiss grows hungrier, Wanda seemingly starved of you. It's intimate, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you dreamed it to be.
You can't do anything but give into her relentless mouth, hand clutching at her sweater to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.
A soft moan leaves her when you guide her to straddle your lap, heat immediately taking over her body, your touch burning into her skin as arousal pools between her legs at the feeling of your body pressed against hers, strong arms wrapping around her, a sensual sigh escaping you as when she pulls back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green, a shameless smile on your lips.
"I think we should do that again," you tease, leaning in for another kiss as she smiles against you, her confidence growing with every kiss, every peck in between laboured breaths as her hands move to your shoulders momentarily, gliding them down your back in a seductive way, a groan leaving you at the way her fingers press into the toned muscle satisfyingly.
Experimentally, you slide your tongue into her mouth, a sinful moan escaping her as she welcomes your advances, your hands toying with the hem of her jumper, not sure how far she wanted to go as your mouths move lewdly together, her back arching a little to press her body further against yours.
"Am I going too fast?" Your voice a gentle whisper as you pull back from the kiss, sensing a little bit of nerves from her, eyes gauging her reaction as your fingers had slipped beneath her clothing, feeling the warmth and softness of her bare skin, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she meets your enamoured gaze, not wanting to pressure her.
"No I just-" she cuts herself off, feeling a little embarrassed as your hands slide out of her jumper, snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to rest against your body, bringing her in for a soft embrace that she appreciates. "I never done this before," she confesses, a soft smile appearing on your lips as you guide her head back so you can meet her timid green, "I want to but I just... don't know what I'm doing."
"Do you trust me?" you ask, mimicking her words from the ice skating, your fingers raising to brush back another stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear affectionately as she nods. "I'll take care of you, I promise," you whisper, kissing her lips with nothing but love, conveying how gentle you'd be with her. "We can stop at any time," you reassure her, not wanting her to think she's committed to having sex with you, "Just tell me to stop and we stop. I don't care what's happening, all I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable with me." She smiles shyly at your words, tilting her head to kiss you once again, grateful for how caring and considerate you were. "We'll go at your pace, ok?"
"Ok," she murmurs back, smiling into another tender kiss as you do as you said, letting her control the way her lips move against yours, slowly building the hunger back up.
"Tell me what you want," you sigh out against her lips, feeling her hips subtly rock against your lap without her even realising it, your teeth softly nipping at her lower lip, earning a small moan as she flutters her eyes back open, meeting your patient gaze.
"I want...I just want you," she whispers, holding the intimate gaze before leaning back in, kissing you with a new sense of urgency, a small moan leaving you at her words. Your lips pull into a small smile as she slides her tongue hesitantly into your mouth, the kiss turning messy and causing a wave of arousal to flood through, Wanda's mind spinning at the intoxicating way you make her feel.
"You have me," your tone laced with love as she rests her forehead against yours, lips lingering open against one another, simply relishing in the intimacy. "Show me what you want from me," you encourage, sliding your hands from around her lower back to hers, letting her take a hold of your hands to guide them where she wants them, your lips parting from hers to pepper kisses along her jaw softly, her head lolling to the side to welcome your addictive touch.
She simply holds your hands for a moment, deciding what she wants from you, her mind freezing momentarily at the way your teeth scrape against her sensitive skin, a pleasant shiver running down her back as she curses lowly in Sokovian, the sultry sound causing a throb between your thighs.
When she's ready, she squeezes your hands softly, guiding them down her body to the hem of her sweater, hoping you understand her silent request. Your fingers slide under tentatively, feeling the way her stomach tenses and relaxes at your touch, the skin impossibly soft and enticing, your mind reminding you to wait for her as you caress the skin you can reach.
"Please," she murmurs out, one of her hands moving to your hair, threading her fingers through your silky locks and softly pulling you away from her neck, her lips pressing to yours with a hint of desperation as she grinds her hips with a little more purpose now, a wave of pleasure coursing through her.
"Off?" you mutter against her lips questioningly, her nodding into a sensual kiss as your lips meet gently, her sighing into your mouth as your hands grip the hem of her sweater, slowly, teasingly, pulling it off her body.
Her hands move off you to help you pull the item of clothing off, your gaze remaining on her face as she turns shy again, waiting for another nod before letting your gaze drift down her body, your breath hitching at her sheer beauty.
Her body is sculpted to perfection, crafted by Aphrodite herself to create the most beautiful woman you'd ever lay your eyes on, her delicate and smooth skin enticing your eyes all over her exposed body, her curves luring your hands to caress them softly, eyes flickering back up to hers, nothing but admiration and love in them.
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" you whisper into a passionate kiss, her nerves immediately dissipating at the sheer honesty lacing your tone, another blush creeping onto her face at how amazed you were by her. "Any idea what you do to me?" you continue, wrapping your arms around her body and pulling her closer to hers, her bra covered chest flush against your body as she moans into your mouth, her body begging for more, needing you to touch her lower.
"Please Y/n," she sighs into your mouth, your hands creeping up her body and resting just under her bra, fingers brushing over the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. "I need you," her tone conveying how desperate she was, your worshipping touch only driving her towards madness, her body viewing them as teasing.
"Where do you need me, love?" the endearment spilling from your lips naturally, a wave of arousal flowing through her at your slightly husky voice, your lips parting from hers once more to kiss down her neck, sucking partly before moving to kiss her shoulder and collarbones, waiting for an answer.
"Here," she sighs out softly, her fingers wrapping around one of your wrists and guiding it down to meet the waistband of her pyjama pants, your head instantly leaving her body to look at her properly, the green in her eyes usually filled with love completely replaced by desire and hunger.
"Are you sure?" Your voice is full of care as your hand remains where she guided you, gazing into hers as your heart beats wildly in your chest, still stunned a little by the sight of her on top of you, the heat between your thighs incessant.
"Yes," her voice a mere whisper as she kisses you softly, deciding she wouldn't want anyone else to be her first, always having loved you without even realising it.
"Remember we can stop whenever you need to," you murmur before claiming her lips with a newfound purpose, wanting to give her everything she wants, fingers carefully sliding under her waistband.
"Fuck," she whispers out, voice a little shaky as her hands move to your back once again, clutching onto your t-shirt as your fingers brush against her core through her soaked panties, a groan leaving you at how wet she was for you. She was this desperate for you.
You move the pad of your finger against the wet fabric, teasingly sliding it up and down her core, earning a small, desperate moan from her into your mouth, her teeth biting down on your lower lip impatiently as you continue to work her body up, her hips bucking against your hand at the slightest of touches.
"Can I-"
"Please," she practically whimpers out, your lips tugging up into a smirk whilst your free hand glides up and down her back soothingly, your fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of her panties, a sensual sigh escaping her when you finally make contact with her core. "Detka," she pants out against your lips as you swallow the desperate noises that leave her lips as your finger swipes through the abundance of arousal that's pooled between her thighs, coating your digit as you explore her wet sex.
Pulling back from the kiss, your eyes observe every single reaction to your touch she offered you, drinking it up like an intoxicating substance as your finger spreads her slick around her, moving to circle her clit gently to begin with, slowly building in confidence as your touch grows firmer, intending to bring her as much as possible.
"You're so pretty like this," you mumble, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, teeth scraping the soft skin again to drive her mad, your finger sliding up and down her soaking folds before settling on teasing her entrance, a whine leaving her at your enamoured tone and taunting actions.
"Detka," she sighs out, tone conveying the sheer desperation she feels for you, needing you to bring her towards her release, her body needing your touch to satisfy her.
"Shhh, I'll take care of you," you murmur, tilting your head away from her neck to let your lips brush against her compelling ones, her breath fanning across your face as her lips part, your finger slowly sliding into her, your eyes in awe of her blissed out expression. "Tell me what feels good," you encourage, slowly curling your finger inside her beautifully, a moan spilling from her lips directly into your mouth as you claim her lips softly, slowly letting your lips slot over hers, her mind hazy with all the pleasure and heat flowing through her.
"Shit, there, right there," she groans as you curl your finger against her weak spot, the palm of your hand brushing against her clit as she rocks her hips against you, fingers gripping your shirt tightly.
"Yeah?" you husk out and the slight cockiness to your tone has her mind spinning even more with arousal, delirium taking over her as she moans against you once more, your name falling from her lips like a small chant as you thrust your finger in her a little faster, pleasure bubbling through her. "What if I do this?" your voice a teasing whisper, your thumb moving to brush over her clit, a choked moan escaping her as you move it in languid circles, doubling the pleasure fogging her mind.
"Y/n," she pants against you, the corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk at her desperate tone, the way her walls clench and spasm around you, her thighs tensing around your body as her hips buck harder when you time your movements right, a sudden wave of pleasure flowing through her. "Fuck," she sighs out sensually, parting your mouths as she's struggling to reciprocate the kiss, too busy focussing on the way you effortlessly slide in another finger, stretching her out perfectly.
"You're doing so well for me," you whisper, mouth moving to the shell of her ear and tone dropping, a slight rasp added to your voice further arouse her. One of her hands shoot up into your hair, messily tangling it into your locks as moans escape her, her hips trying to move a little faster and push her towards her nearing release, fingers gripping tightly making a dull pain wash over you, the action making you groan as the idea of how lost in pleasure she must be goes straight between your thighs.
"Detka," she sighs out, desperation and a hint of embarrassment lacing her tone, too nervous to ask you for what she wants as her hips indicate how close she is, your fingers still steadily thrusting into her and thumb occasionally brushing her clit, hips bucking harder against you. You immediately understand what she's asking for as she gently tugs your head back, lips pressing against yours passionately as she holds you close, back arching further into your body as she sighs into your mouth, a small whine escaping her as she teeters on the edge of her release.
"I've got you," you murmur gently, your free hand moving up her body and to her face, cupping her cheek intimately and deepening the kiss, a moan leaving her at the sheer amount of love you pour into the embrace. "Let go for me," you mumble between kisses, her eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to take over her.
"Y/n," she whispers out sinfully for a final time, body tensing against yours while your mouths refuse to part, muffling the desperate sounds leaving her lips while pleasure wracks through her body. Her legs tense around your body once more, her hands adamant on keeping you close as she keeps your head against hers, foreheads resting against one another as you slow the kisses down, pecking her lips in between laboured breaths. Your fingers slowed inside her, letting her walls clench and spasm around you as she rode out the last waves of her release, her body eventually relaxing in your lap and melting against your comforting body.
Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened your eyes, timidly smiling at you and claiming your lips once more in an innocent manner, her adorable expression causing you to reciprocate the action as your free hand moves to glide up and down her back soothingly, fingers pulling out of her when she was ready.
"I'm so proud of you," you whisper with nothing but honesty and care in your words, her cheeks blushing at the way you tenderly gaze at her, her fingers moving to fix your ruffled hair. She smiles at you softly as she tucks a few strands behind your ear, your lips meeting her cheek lovingly as she just wants to bask in the intimate moment for a little longer, the two of you simply locked in a lovers embrace as your arm snakes around her middle.
Many soft words and gentle whispers later, you had managed to convince her into going to the bathroom to get cleaned up, not wanting her to be uncomfortable later and also wash your hands quickly, the brunette blushing at the cocky smirk on your lips as she watches you, proud of yourself for being able to make her feel good and most importantly loved and safe. You let her find herself a new pair of underwear and some new pyjama pants, opting for the pair she first came to you in before searching for a new shirt to wear.
Once she had opted for an old shirt with her favourite sitcom on it, you offered her your hoodie you took off earlier, the jumper being an oversized fit which you knew she loved, Wanda taking it with a wide smile, unable to stop the butterflies in her stomach at how caring you were. She let her nose rest against the collar of it, able to smell your perfume on it as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, dramatically falling onto the bed with her in your arms, eliciting an even bigger smile from her and a nose scrunch.
She turned around in your arms so she was facing you as you pulled her body impossibly closer, smiling fondly at the sight of her in your clothes, her leg sliding in between yours to find a more comfortable position to cuddle in as your fingers drew idle patterns against her back.
"Thank you for being so gentle," she whispers a little shyly, your gaze softening more somehow as she moves her fingers to play with the baby hairs at the back of your neck.
"I'll always be gentle with you," you murmur, kissing her temple and letting your lips linger for a minute, building the courage to say what you wanted to. "Thank you for the last week, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you say, still trying to get to the three words you wanted to confess, her smile growing a little wider at your soft tone.
"Have I convinced you to love Christmas?" she asks curiously, the intimate gaze prolonged as you once again get lost in her eyes, smiling tenderly at her, thinking of how to phrase your words.
"I don't quite love Christmas yet," you whisper out, your words still giving her hope. "But, I...I know I love you," you confess, your heart beating wildly in your chest for the few seconds she doesn't reply, the way her nose scrunches once again in that adorable manner easing the worry of rejection.
"I love you too," she whispers back with fondness lacing her tone, her lips meeting yours once again for an intimate kiss as you can't help but grin into the kiss, a teasing comment finding its way to your lips.
"More than Christmas?" you whisper, earning a soft laugh from her as she moves her face to hide at the crook of your neck, your skin so warm and comfortable, lulling her into a relaxed state.
"More than Christmas," she chuckles out, wrapping her arms around your middle securely, your arms mirroring the action as your lips press a final kiss to the top of her head, the witch amazed at how you, a grinch, managed to steal her heart. 
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sleepingelvhen · 3 months
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Sleeping Spider Lily Pt.1
Blade/Reader NSFW Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- [🌹Part 4🌹] Minors DO NOT interact MASTERLIST Once, you were in love with a man called Yingxing. That man died during his involvement with Dan Feng’s betrayal. At least, so you thought. Jing Yuan helped you through your turmoil, comforted you in your pain, and eventually you were able to move on and live your life. Little did you know your lover was simply lying in wait. After years of suffering and pain, Blade arrives on the Luofu with a mission at hand, everything planned for him. That is until he sees you…and all the memories come flooding back.
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Days stretched on as if they were years upon years. Every moment nearly torture since you lost the love of your life. You knew Jing Yuan could see it on your face, the numbness in your voice, the distant look in your eyes, the way your body moved robotically during your work in the commission. It was probably a depressing sight, but all sense of self disappeared when Yingxing was gone, and it was impossible to bring yourself back.
You blamed yourself first, lectured yourself on how you could have supported him better, understood him better to stop what he was planning. Then you started blaming the Imbibitor Lunae, focused your attention on your hatred towards the Vidhyadharan high elder for leading Yingxing to his betrayal and death.
Then, when there was no one to blame, when you had to face the reality of his death, you fell into a depression that made it impossible for Jing Yuan to sit aside and watch anymore. He stepped in and pulled you up and suddenly you were on different kinds of missions. 
Instead of working on papers and writing reports to the commission, you were going out on patrols with the cloud knights or even with Jing Yuan himself. He talked your ear off, took you out to tea or dinner, he made sure you had company and that you were never alone with your thoughts. Jing Yuan helped you stand and helped you move on. He knew what you needed, and he became your best friend over the many, many years.
Your life filled with new passions and new friends, Jing Yuan shared in your pain and together you kept living. You became a sword in the dark for him, you hunted in the night and fought for Jing Yuan when he couldn’t step away. Together you were a force the Luofu trusted to keep them safe. Finally, you were healing from the pain that seemed to last centuries. Finally you were happy.
The Aeons seemed dissatisfied with your suffering, however. Or maybe your luck had completely run dry. Whatever it was, your mind reeled from what you saw before you.
He walked down the hallway of the Shackling Prison, two guards at his sides, his arms tied in front of him, head low. You watched as his long silky hair swayed with each step, a familiar gait once prideful with long strides was now slow and meticulous. 
The blackish-blue hair was familiar, a reminder of when he was young, when you first met him. It was strange at first, having once gotten used to the white color he sported as he aged. But, you found yourself thrown right back to the past. The way he would stare at you, the way his hair felt in your fingers.
The past is gone now. Eyes that once looked upon you with affection now glowed red with anger and bloodlust, a smirk glowering on his face as he looked up at Jing Yuan who had Yanqing at his side, sword at the ready.
"Do you remember me?" Jing Yuan asked, shocking you to your core. He had known...of course he had.
“I do...Of five people, three must pay a price,” he spoke, his voice gravely and deep, daunting in the dark. It echoed in the silent, near empty room, a voice that sounded all too familiar. A voice that made tears spring into your eyes. “You…are not one of them, Jing Yuan.”
You simply watched the scene before you, eyes wide, your body hidden in the shadows of the prison. Your lip trembled along with your fingers, as if your whole body was cold, except you were on the verge of a complete breakdown.
None of the words Jing Yuan said after that registered in your mind, like your ears were completely muffled. Everything around you spun, your eyes only able to see Yingxing, or rather what he had become after years of whatever had happened to him. 
This wasn’t the Yingxing you knew…the way he looked at Jingyuan, the way he stood, it was all in anticipation of violence. But he looked like him and you wanted it to be him, your eyes roamed his entire body in desperation for anything that looked like the man he used to be.
You watched him cock his head to the side, his now red eyes quickly glancing to the sides of the room, as if noting the amount of guards in the room, or looking for something. Then his eyes shot to the side, towards where you hid in the far back of the room.
The shadows should have cloaked you, no one ever saw you when you stood here. But his eyes stopped right where you stood, his eyes widening for just a moment. You swore you saw the curve of his mouth fall. It lasted all but a second before his eyes were back on Jing Yuan, the facade of pride back upon his face, like it never happened. Like he never saw you.
“He’s alive!?” You punched your bathroom mirror, tears streaming down your face as you stared at your broken reflection. Jing Yuan stood behind you, leaning against the doorway, his eyes downcast. For once his face was solemn, regretful.
You gripped the sides of the sink, gritting your teeth, trying to stop yourself from sobbing. Years of stitched up pain, of wounds you thought had healed, they all came flooding back. Like blood, the memories spilled out, swallowing all thoughts, forcing you to relive everything all over again.
“He’s alive…” Jing Yuan finally spoke, trying not to cause you more pain. “I’m sorry.”
Deep breaths did nothing to dwindle the anxiety as you turned to face him.
“How long…how long have you known?”
Jing Yuan looked up at you, mouth open, before he stopped himself. His mouth shut as he sighed and looked down at the floor. Of course he had known. All these years, your closest friend had known the love of your life was alive and kept it a secret. Your voice shook as your shoulders slumped, turning away from Jing Yuan.
“Just…just leave…please.”
He said nothing, leaving you alone in your pain. The night was filled with tears and loud sobbing, your face stained and red, eyes sore and burning. 
Sleep eluded you, every time you shut your eyes, images of him filled your mind. Yingxing, your lover, now someone you barely recognized. It was impossible, a terrifying prospect, and the worst thing to happen to you now. All the healing, the years of pain…was all of it for nothing? Questions racked your mind until you were too tired to think but also too tired to sleep. And before you knew it, light filtered into your room as morning came and alongside morning, came Jing Yuan and even more bad news.
“What do you mean he escaped!?” You couldn’t help your voice rising, the exhaustion evident in your tone. Jing Yuan simply watched you struggle with the information, his eyes saddened by the pain you dealt with.
“I mean, sometime last night, he broke out of his holding cell, and we suspect he is still somewhere on the Luofu.” Jing Yuan sighed, rubbing his temples. Obviously this situation was affecting him just as badly. He was already notorious for barely getting sleep, it would be a wonder if he had even a moment of rest last night.
“Fuck…fuck…” You pulled back your hair. Everything was quickly going to shit. Jing Yuan had not only caught you up on the new status of Yingxing, who apparently now went by Blade, but also on the fact that there was probably a Stellaron on board the Luofu and that the Stellaron Hunters were involved with both incidents.
“Look, I know this isn’t an ideal situation but,” Jing Yuan sighed again before looking at you. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you getting involved.”
“What? Why? This is literally my job!”
“Because,” Jing Yuan put his hand on your shoulder, his touch able to calm down your shivers a little bit. “Your past relationship with Ying–Blade–I don’t want you getting hurt even more…”
Your shoulders slumped and you nodded slowly. It made sense, Jing Yuan knew that everything was only causing you pain. He had your best interest in mind but…your eyebrows strewn together and your breath caught in your throat.
“Fine.” Ying Yuan was satisfied and that made the guilt a little worse. Because you knew you were lying. The nighttime was your hunting ground. And Yingxing or rather, Blade, would not run away. Not again, not without the answers you so craved.
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purriteen · 1 month
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Ad victor spolia - masterpost
this blog is for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact!
synopsis: set roughly five years after the 10th hunger games, the newly 'elected’ president Coriolanus Snow sets his sights on the one girl he knows could never betray him like Lucy Gray did. his little sister.
content warnings: incest, age gap (18-19 & 24), manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, somnophilia, named!reader
* reader is essentially the canon baby sister, except she survived. vaguely described as resembling Mrs. Snow, but I’ll leave what that entails up to your interpretation considering we only get one very brief shot of her in a glass painting in the movie
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
➾ Chapter one
➾ Chapter two
➾ Chapter three
➾ Chapter four
➾ Chapter five
➾ Chapter six
** this series is ongoing and esp. as a student on my last year of my country’s equivalent of high school, I will not always be able to update frequently. **
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