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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Signed in blood

Yandere!Zhongli x Yaksha!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2541

CW: Yandere themes, mentioned violence and death, unhealthy power dynamics

Long before Liyue’s borders had been established and the harbor bloomed into the prosperous city that it is today, the Geo Lord, Rex Lapis gathered all lesser deities and spirits dwelling in the current nation’s territory and concluded a contract with most of them, ensuring the protection of his country and people. Some of them signed a contract out of fear before archon’s power, some did it for mutual benefit and some out of gratitude and deep reverence. You are in the latter category, a simple forest spirit that was saved from the distorted monsters left after the archon war by his grace and power alone.

It was a simple day when you felt an enormously malicious energy surrounding your green abode, and soon they showed up, killing intent and will of dead archons seeping out of them. You were fast and agile enough to dodge creatures' hits, which couldn't be said about the others. Your fellow spirits and animals with whom you were sharing this forest soon fell victim to the perpetrators' attacks. Dark energy entered and desecrated the lands, poisoned the waters and even possessed the bodies of your old friends.

You were running away, fatigue finally catching up to you, despite the inhuman nature and you soon fell to the ground. There were a myriad of thoughts and feelings reeling inside of you - grief for your now dead friends and home, anger at the monsters and most importantly frustration with yourself. You aren’t human, not a single part of you is, so why were you so weak and helpless, unable to do anything as you left your loved ones for slaughter and massacre?

Guilt and shame washed over you, as you allowed tears to burst free - you were bad, you were disgusting for not doing anything, not helping anyone. Monstrous roars and growls got closer, a promise and a threat of what will happen to you. You closed your eyes, accepting the imminent end and bracing for the upcoming pain. And then the most unexpected thing happened - the earth underneath you vibrated, tremors knocking the beasts off their feet, as a tall basalt pillar rose from the ground.

Soon the stranger appeared, ending the monsters in one swift and elegant slash of his spear. He donned an otherwise simple white attire adorned with golden threads, with a long ponytail showing from the hood, but the most eye-catching details were piercing amber eyes and the glowing patterns all over his body of the same colour. You forgot how to breathe for a second as you watched your unexpected savior - he was beyond handsome, possessing the kind of beauty that would have mortals blushing and stuttering.

He then looked around, finally noticing your sprawled form. “Are you all right?”he asked, his tranquil and calm voice tinted by the shadow of concern and lending his hand. “I am”, you sputtered out and took an outstretched limb, feeling infinitely clumsy and ugly, face heating up from embarrassment. “That is good”, his voice despite still possessing the same serenity took a warmer tone.

As you learned later, you were saved by one of the seven remaining archons, a lord of geo. Filled with shame for your dishonorable escape and gratitude for your unforeseen salvation you signed the tightest contract with Rex Lapis - a blood written pact.

Unlike the contracts mortals establish, a contract between two immortal beings lacks the parchment or ink or a signature, they use magic and techniques that echo directly into their soul, preventing even the possibility of the terms' violation. Blood written pact binds to the vital essences of one, an ancient magic flaring up once the contractor intends to break the agreement, stopping and warning them of what's to come once they do breach it.

Your blood sizzled and boiled as you pledged your life to Liyue, magic singing in your veins and resonating with your soul - Rex Lapis saw the potential in you to be a great warrior and designated you to serve him as one of the yakshas, so you obeyed, training your body and spirit to withstand the endless calamities you no doubt will have to face. One day, after a grueling training you almost gave up, but forced yourself past your limits. I must redeem myself and repay Rex Lapis, you thought, gritting your teeth and taking a battle stance again, and then a miracle happened: a blue glowing orb materialized in the air - a vision bestowed by the hydro archon.

Sometimes you still reminisce about this moment and recite the oath you gave back then - I pledge my life to the protection of the Liyue nation and the will of Geo Archon, Rex Lapis for all the centuries to come.

Soon, you ended your training and started to protect Liyue just like other four adeptis all of whom were also saved by the Geo Lord. For centuries you five defended the nation as it bloomed and grew into something that you couldn't even imagine. And even after centuries of slaughter as your karmic debt started to slowly eat you from inside, slowly, but surely devouring your sanity by the smallest pieces you always found strength to move forward by recalling your first meeting with Rex Lapis, reverence before your God and guilt before the dead driving you further and further.

With time a dull, yet constant pain made its way into your bones. Sometimes it would make your eyes fill with unshed tears, sometimes wake you up in those rare times you slept without nightmares, sometimes it made your hands tremble, almost dropping the weapon in the middle of the battle. You couldn’t suppress and endure it like Xiao does, letting out a pained whimper here and there, yet you still upheld your duty to the Liyue. It almost felt like routine, until two awful events happened: the death and defection.

The fear and hatred of all those who fell victims to your weapons were slowly seeping in your minds, driving you mad with bloodlust. It all happened so quickly: you were watching out for other demons as Bonanus and Pervases were patching up Alatus after the intense battle, while Bosacius looked at the other front, weapons ready, and then Bonanus lashed out, aiming for Xiao's neck. The anemo yaksha quickly darted to the side, but the weapon still grazed the copper bird's neck, his blood forming a quickly growing pool underneath. You had to put the bloodlusted yaksha yourself, something inside of you breaking as you did so - it was one thing to stand against hordes of demons and monsters and it was another to kill your friend.

You couldn’t talk or look into the eyes of the other two after that, despising yourself for yet another failure - first your forest, then your friends, you were helpless to save anyone. And then Bosacius left, you had no idea where he vanished, but these two events prompted Rex Lapis to visit both you and Xiao, as yakshas shrinked in numbers from five to two in less than a week.

You kneel before the Geo archon when you notice his tall figure between the ancient trees - unlike Xiao, you prefer to live in the woods, the familiarity of nature reminiscent of a home you once lost. Your Lord ushers you to stand up, his face solemn and grim.

“[First]”, he starts, exhaustion evident in each syllable: "For centuries you protected my Harbor, and despite turbulent times passing you still uphold your duty. I find that admirable".

Your eyes go wide and you turn your head, unable to receive such high praise from your God, you feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, acknowledgement of your hard work, and even constant pain or the death and disappearance of your colleagues became less serious of the issue for a mere moment.

"I am not worthy of such praise, my lord, I am only doing my job, fulfilling the contract", you deflect, looking at him again. Archon's eyes crease a little and a small frown appears as you say "contract", yet he quickly wills his face into an impassive mask.

"I suppose I made a mistake when I asked you to be my yaksha back then, I have misjudged your worth ", he continues, voice becoming distant and strangely tense, as he reminisces about the days long past, amber eyes looking both at and through you.

"My lord, I…", you start and then stumble over the words, unsure what to say next. Is this his way of telling you that you're bad at your job? You cast your head down, eyes lowered in shame, hands that spilled adeptus' blood trembling and burning. "I am deeply sorry for letting you down in that way, I will do my best to redeem myself from now on” .

A warm hand touches your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a comforting manner. His palm is warm and firm, comforting in its steadiness like a tall cliff standing proudly against the raging tides, indestructible and reliable.

"You have no reason to apologize for this. Something like this would inevitably happen sooner or later, you have no fault in the events that occured. I suppose karmic debt would drive one of you insane eventually".

He sounds calming, reassuring, like a parent soothing a child. You still don’t lift your head to meet his gaze - you’re too guilty and unworthy to do that. There are no words you can speak now, not when you have been so thoroughly destroyed by your lord’s kindness - how can he look at you and see someone innocent?

“No, I meant that all those centuries ago, when I first met you I didn’t discern the gem hidden in the crude ore” he adopts reminiscent tone again, his hand now moving on your shoulder in slow and steady rhythm: “I knew I wanted you to be by my side, I didn’t know who I wanted you to be though. I needed time to understand my own feelings and the way I viewed you, and then I needed some more time to accept those sentiments”.

“What sentiments, my lord?”, you ask, finally looking up to him, brows slightly frowned in confusion and curiosity - it’s rare to see the Geo archon talk about his inner workings so openly, as he usually prefers to keep a cordial distance or masterfully redirects the conversation into a completely different direction.

“Over the years, as you protected my nation and my people, I finally understood it”, his hand shifts from your shoulder and now he cups your own two palms in a firm yet gentle hold: “I cherish you, [First]”.

The sudden declaration leaves you stunned and speechless for a good minute: you look at your god with wide eyes, mouth opening several times like a fish out of water. A myriad of thoughts and feelings go through you: confusion, disbelief, inferiority.

“I… That is very sudden for me to… learn about your affections”, you finally utter, forgetting to add respectful “my lord” at the end. Your voice comes off as small and hesitant as you say so. Rex Lapis doesn’t seem to mind your confusion as he takes a second to collect his own thoughts.

“The yaksha title I have burdened you with takes a toll both on your mind and your body. I severely miscalculated, so I want to redeem this mistake”, he sounds regretful now, one hand moving to caress and cup your face. You go stiff, still overwhelmed by the whole conversation. “I can free you from your contract if you decide to become my life companion”.

“But, my lord, it’s so sudden I can’t just..”

“Hush, I won’t pressure you into an intimate relationship right away. No, we will wait and learn about each other and once you will be comfortable enough to let me enter your life and your heart we will marry, uniting our fates with a contract that shall never end”.

You lower your head again, but this time in contemplation instead of guilt and shame. What do you feel for Rex Lapis? Admiration - he is a powerful deity, capable enough to flatten mountains and raise new ones with a single slash of his spear. Gratitude - he was the one that saved you and sheltered you, until you grew strong enough, he gave you a reason to live when you had none. Respect - he is a capable leader, smart enough to build a foundation and guide people of the most magnificent nation in Teyvat.

You feel no love for him, not the kind of love he wants anyway. You know about his patience and how affections sometimes take years to finally mature and bloom, but the thought of spending decades, maybe even centuries in hopes that one day you will reciprocate is nauseating to you.

How do you feel about it? A part of you wants it - it’s an easy way out to get rid of the pain, of the fear and bloodshed, of the death that clings to you at every waking moment. You remember how you spend most of your nights sleepless, drowsiness leaving you the same second you dream of blood and carnage and massacre. You remember your whole body throbbing and burning on especially bad days, when even Remedium Tertiorum can’t do its job. You remember crying and gasping for air after the weight of the slaughtered gets too heavy for you to handle.

You almost say yes, out of these reasons alone, but you stop yourself - you think of Xiao, of how lonely he will become once you leave. You think of heartfelt smiles that mortals gift you with on those rare occasions you have to save them. You think of the slaughtered spirits before whom you still have to atone to.

“I am sorry, my lord” You look him straight in the eyes, bracing yourself for the words you are about to say: “I can’t match your feelings, nor can I accept your offer, not now at least”.

Amber eyes lose their warmth in the instance, the comforting aura he was exuding earlier replaced by the weird tension between you two. Looking at this image, you suddenly remember how ruthless Rex Lapis can be on the battlefield as for a fraction of the second he looks at you as you’re an enemy.

A horrible pain shoots right through your body, and your short scream follows. You fall on the floor, gasping for air, deaf and blind from the overwhelming pain. Geo archon quickly takes your form, carrying you to your sleeping place, as you try your best to breathe and not cry.

“It must be a blood pact acting up, the magic must have taken your refusal as disobedience to the contract”, he says once the agony lightens, enough for you to focus on the conversation, “you did pledge your life to my will”.

You try to half sit on your elbow, to look him in the eyes and say something other than the pained groans and whimpers, as his next words instill a sense of quiet dread in you:

“I hope you will rethink and take back your words out of your own volition, [First]. I would hate to order you to”.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli #Yandere #Yandere zhongli x reader #yandere x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #my writing

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hercleverboy · 3 years

Text

the year of goodbyes

spencer reid x gn!reader

masterlist

summary ↠ over the course of a year, Spencer says goodbye to three people— and hello to one.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ takes place in s11, talk of Alzheimer’s,

word count ↠ 1.8k

massive shoutout to my beloved @ellesgreenaway for beta reading and encouraging me to finish this piece— india you are my actual saving grace

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” — Paulo Coelho

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

He knew it all too well, the familiar look that was cast over peoples features, how their eyes got glassy and lips twitched as they prepared to tell him that they were yet another person who would leave him behind— like so many had before.

But their choice of words was always different. He noticed a sort of pattern, when it came to people walking out of his life. They tended to dance around the words, never exactly saying ‘I’m leaving you.’

First, it was his father. He’d watched him pack a suitcase full of things, spit angry words at his mother and then turn to him, his son— placing his hand on his shoulder, mumbling a few cowardly words and that was that. Spencer no longer had a father.

(‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to look after you anymore.’)

Second was Gideon, who never actually said goodbye in person (and Spencer couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse.) Instead, he left, wrote words down on a page and then addressed it to him.

(‘Spencer, I knew you would be the one to come down here.’)

And again, with Alex. Not a goodbye, not in the formal sense, but Spencer’s heart ached with how he knew what this was— he recognised the look on her face and knew that once again, he would lose someone he loved.

(‘You know, Ethan would’ve been a lot like you.’)

Everyone in Spencer’s life started to feel temporary. There one minute, gone the next. He wished that meant that he cared any less for them, or that it hurt any less when they left.

Of course, that was never the case.

His mother’s mental state had been deteriorating rapidly, and nothing— not anything that Spencer’s big genius brain could think of — was helping her.

When he visited her, he saw the vacant look in her eyes. He recognised the look of confusion on her face when he’d enter the room, ignoring how his heart squeezed painfully upon realising that his own mother no longer remembered him.

It would take her a few minutes, but eventually the confusion would disappear and she would give him a smile, greeting him with open arms and warm words.

It was a different kind of leaving, but she was leaving him all the same. She wasn’t physically going anywhere, but, mentally?

He saw how she was deteriorating, he argued with countless doctors and medical professionals, exhausting every book and resource he could find— just hoping he could come up with something.

But, no.

He found it a little ironic. He was the boy wonder, the resident genius of the Bureau’s elite behavioural analysis unit, a smartass who had endless amounts of knowledge.

He always had the answer, always had the solution.

Ironic— because the man who was supposed to know it all, had no clue how to protect his mother from a disease that would inevitably take her from him.

It wasn’t something he would ever come to terms with, it was never something he would accept. He knew how it was going to go, the doctors told him as much.

The day would come that he would walk into his mother’s room, and those vacant eyes would never gain clarification. Her confusion wouldn’t pass, and she would no longer recognise him.

Spencer dreaded that day.

He feared it, even.

Because the day he lost his mother would be the day he lost himself.

When Catherine Adams’ file came across Spencer’s desk, he thrusted all of his agony over his mother into the case. It was why he decided that he would be the one to take her down in the restaurant, why he insisted that she wouldn’t perceive him as a threat.

Oddly enough, Spencer found himself intrigued by her. Perhaps, he simply enjoyed being intellectually challenged in such a way. Or perhaps, somewhere deep down in the darkest parts of himself, he liked the attention, got off on being able to outsmart her.

He was smug when he managed to trick her into getting into the back of the police van, under the guise that he’d found her father. (After all, she was ‘just another girl with daddy issues’.)

It was only when Cat gave him a grin, one that contrasted with the tears that slipped down her cheeks, that Spencer felt uneasy.

He crouched down in front of her, whispered a small, “Goodbye, Cat,” before getting up and leaving the van, feeling a weight on his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe.

Again, it was a different type of goodbye. One he was of course relieved about, because with it brought the promised safety of Penelope, now that Cat was behind bars. Although, alongside the relief, there was a sour aftertaste.

It was what led him to take a moment, sitting down on the swings in the park, hands trembling slightly as they grabbed the chains, swinging gently in a slow rhythm that he hoped would calm him down.

The last words Cat had said to him played over and over in his head.

“In twenty years, you won’t remember my name. But I’ll remember yours.”

At first, Spencer assumed she was referring to how after a while, Cat would simply blend into the sea of seemingly never-ending unsubs who all tried, and failed, to outsmart the team.

It was only later that Spencer realised she was instead insinuating that he would succumb to the same disease as his mother— forgetting not only those that he loved, but the ones he hated too.

Spencer’s best friend was going to be a father.

The team were gathered in the waiting room, eagerly awaiting news, when Morgan came out with a smile on his face. “It’s a boy!”

Pure, unbridled joy burst throughout the room, with Spencer lurching forward to wrap his arms around him, laughing and giving his congratulations. He swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat and pushed away the thoughts that swirled around his mind. Deep down, he knew what would inevitably happen, but that moment wasn’t the right time to think about it.

It was late in the evening when Derek Morgan stopped by Spencer’s desk. Before he even looked up from his paperwork, he knew where this conversation was going to go. When he did look up, it all but confirmed it— he saw the sad smile on Morgan’s lips, and watched how his eyes glossed over.

He said nothing though. Instead, he smiled and chuckled as Morgan gushed over his newborn son. His smile got even bigger when Morgan handed over the birth announcement— Hank Spencer Morgan.

Although he knew what was coming, he knew what decision Morgan was going to make, he expected nothing less from his best friend. A man who had grown immensely in the years he’d known him, going from a real ladies man to someone who would give up his job in order to be there for his family.

Morgan placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a sigh leaving his lips. “Kid, listen. Here’s the thing..”

“I know.” Spencer whimpered quietly, smiling sadly. “It’s okay. I know. And I understand.”

He watched Derek Morgan walk away, sniffling as he willed the tears to keep at bay. He watched his best friend, his brother, walk away. And it hurt, God it hurt. But he was so proud of the man that Morgan had become that he pushed aside the hurt, reminding himself of what he knew to be true.

Everyone left eventually.

Spencer feared that one day, he would look around and find that he was truly and utterly alone.

It was a normal Tuesday morning, and Spencer was making his way through the FBI Headquarters, up to the BAU floor. He stepped into the elevator, his coffee mug in one hand, and his other resting over his satchel. Just before the door closed, he heard someone call out.

“Hold the doors!”

Spencer reached a hand out, pushing the doors back open.

You scuttled into the elevator, looking over to the male next to you with a smile. “Thank you for holding the doors. I’m already running a little late for my first day.” You explained, reaching to press the button for the fifth floor, watching as the elevator doors closed again.

“The fifth floor? The Sex Crimes Unit?” Spencer asked curiously.

You nodded.

“It’s your first day?”

“Yeah, I moved here for the job a couple of weeks back. It was an incredible opportunity, I couldn’t pass it up.” You expressed, and Spencer gave you a tight lipped smile in return. “I’m presuming you work here as well?”

He nodded. “I’m in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, a floor up from you.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least I have one friend in the building, if it turns out my new team hate me.” You joked, glad when Spencer let out a little laugh.

“I’m sure that won’t be the case. You seem very likeable.”

You grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. You looked over at your new friend, flashing him a nervous smile. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” He smiled back, raising his hand in a small wave as you left the elevator.

After a long day of paperwork (and thinking of the pretty person he’d met in the elevator), Spencer gathered together his things before getting into the elevator. It stopped on the floor below, and when the doors opened, he smiled at the sight of you.

You looked up from where you’d been looking down at your phone, mirroring his grin. “Hey! It’s you.”

“Yes—yes, It is, me.” Spencer replied, cringing awkwardly at his nonsensical response.

You only laughed quietly at it, entering the elevator.

“How was your first day?” He asked, only to be polite.

You seemed surprised that he’d asked, but answered nonetheless. “It was good! Turns out my team don’t hate me. Or at least, I don’t think they do?” Your voice raised in question, making Spencer laugh a little.

“See? What did I tell you?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You leaned over, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Spencer.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Spencer. For the second time today.”

Spencer smiled shyly, hands delving into his pockets as the elevator dinged. The two of you stepped out, looking at one another with timid expressions.

“My car, it’s that way.” You pointed to the other end of the car park.

“I take the subway.” Spencer responded, wishing he could find a way to make you stay a little longer.

“Well, have a good evening, Spencer.” You beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes!” He responded a little eagerly, sighing inwardly before clearing his throat. “I mean yeah, sure that- that’s cool.”

You giggled quietly, waving goodbye before turning toward your car.

Spencer blushed the whole way to the subway station, biting back the smile on his lips at the thought of you.

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

But you?

He had the feeling that you were going to be a very permanent part of his life, and he didn’t mind that in the slightest.

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

Text

Just My Imagination (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! We’ve entered the 70s and part 3! The songs used in this chapter are “Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)” by The Temptations (1971) and “Lovin’ You” By Minnie Riperton (1975).

Summary: Y/n and Wanda experience life (and pregnancy) in the 70s as Wanda tries to keep everything under control.

Hope you enjoy! :)

“Alright, krasivaya, what decade are we living in today?” Wanda asked in an overly upbeat tone as she took a space beside you on the bed. She hoped that the tradition would be enough to lift your spirts.

You turned to face her with devastated eyes and it took everything within Wanda to not burst into tears at the sight. That wasn’t what you needed right now.

“They don’t want me here, Wanda.” You mumbled dejectedly, brushing over her attempt at making you feel better. Seeing you so downtrodden was such a stark contrast to your usually carefree nature. It was heartbreaking for Wanda to see.

Scooting closer, Wanda wrapped a comforting arm around you. You immediately turned to bury your head in her shoulder, desperately seeking comfort in her arms. “Moya lyubov, that’s not true. You know how Stark is.” She rubbed your arm soothingly. “If it makes you feel better, I may have thrown him through the wall when you left.” A weak chuckle shook your body at her admission.

The smile that formed on Wanda’s lips was instantaneous when the sound she adored filled the quiet room.

The moment didn’t last long though. “He said I was dangerous.” You faintly whispered, hurt lacing your words.

Wanda sighed. “Y/n. Look at me.” You pulled your head up to meet her loving gaze. “You and I both know that’s far from the truth. Your emotions got the best of you once. That’s all.”

You shamefully ducked your head. “I just-… I could have hurt someone. I couldn’t help but think of her when we were there. That’s why I lost control and the building collapsed.” It took Wanda a moment, but she finally understood what this was about. “It was like I was back there, not able to protect her…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to continue as tears welled in your eyes.

Immediately her hold on you tightened as she pressed her lips firmly against your hairline. “Shh… I have you. It’s okay. Let it out.” Wanda whispered as she felt your tears flow steadily against her neck.

You bunched your hands into the front of her sweater as you tried to take deep breathes. “I miss her, Wanda… So much. Anna didn’t deserve what happened. It should have been me-”

If anyone understood your pain it was Wanda, but she couldn’t allow your thoughts to spiral like that. She knew all too well what could come from that.

“Stop.” She interrupted firmly. “The world needs you here. My world needs you here. You did everything you could for her. You loved her so much, Y/n. Don’t carry that burden of blame when it was all Hydra.”

Her eyes offered you comfort and the depths contained nothing but love that enveloped your entire being. You felt lighter. “Thank you.” You finally murmured. “For being here, for knowing what I need. For being you... Every time I think I couldn’t be more in love...” You thought out loud to yourself with a faint smile.

Wanda’s breath hitched as her eyes filled with even more emotion. “There’s no need to thank me. You do the same for me. Constantly. I’ll always be here. I won’t let go of you.” She repeated the words you once told her back at you. Your heart thrummed. “I love you. Endlessly.”

“I love you, too.” You mumbled against her lips, losing yourself in the feeling for a moment before you pulled away.

Wanda dazedly shook her head, regaining her focus. “So?” She placed another tender kiss to your temple as her smile became playful. “What decade are we using to escape from this one?” She questioned again, once again offering you the fictitious escape of reality that you’d both grown to find comfort in.

You shook your head but gave in either way. “The 70s.” you eventually replied with a small smile, settling on your favorite.

You covered your face in mock mortification when Wanda immediately threw up a peace sign with her free hand. “Far out.” She retorted coolly. The outdated saying fell easily from her lips as she settled into her character. You shook your head again. “I’ll get the shows ready, you get the music?”

The smile that grew on your face from her antics was inevitable. “Sounds… groovy, babe.” You responded, playing along. Despite the exasperation that you feigned, you appreciated everything she was doing.

“Oh, god…” You groaned as you watched Wanda disco out of the room to go gather what you two would need.

You were so unfathomably in love with this woman.

For a moment you wished that the world was able to see this side of Wanda, the side that was reserved for you and you alone. The playful side. The side that showed that she was more than just tragedy.

Wanda knew that playing make-believe wouldn’t fix your problems or heal your pain, but it would be enough to ease your mind even if it was just temporary. If this tradition was something that could bring the light back into your eyes, she was more than willing to provide it.

She knows that you’ve done the same for her numerous times before and would do so for as long as she needed it.

When she wandered back in the room she held up two different options. “Okay, I couldn’t decide between-”

“You pick.” You interrupted her. She quirked an eyebrow.

With a shrug, she tossed the items on the bed and took both of your hands, pulling you up from your seated position. “We’ll get to that later then. Where’s the 70s music?”

Taking one of your hands back, you queued the playlist that had the music you were searching for. “There.” You said with a half-hearted smirk, still feeling a little down. Wanda immediately noticed.

The song that filled the room was upbeat and bouncy as Wanda began pulling your hands back and forth to the rhythm of the music. The amused twinkle in her eye not going unnoticed. When she noticed you began moving on your own, Wanda began dancing in an exaggerated 70s fashion, singing along to the lyrics of the song. With a laugh, you easily joined her, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders ever so slightly.

For the remainder of the song you both danced around the room using your best 70s moves as you continued to loudly belt out the lyrics. When the song ended, you both fell to the floor, out of breath and smiling contentedly.

Leaning against each other both literally and metaphorically.

Moments of escape from the heavy lives you lead were few and far between so when they came around they were special. These moments with Wanda… they were special. They were escapes that had transitioned into traditions. Traditions that were forged with great care in the flames of your love.

Without warning, Wanda leaned over and cupped your cheek. She wasted no time before passionately connecting your lips. There was no hesitation as you returned her embrace. The music around you transitioned into something much softer as you both got lost in one another.

“Soon we'll be married and raise a family, a cozy little home out in the country with two children, maybe three. I tell you I can visualize it all, this couldn't be a dream for too real it all seems, but it was just my imagination runnin' way with me…”

The words that drifted from the radio caught your attention, easily pulling your focus from the task at hand. Flashes of moments you didn’t recognize flooded your mind. Despite the upbeat tempo of the song, the lyrics seemed sad… hopeless even. The emotion that the song radiated seemed to fill your body.

An odd sense of longing blossomed in your chest as the song played on. The abrupt sound of someone speaking and a gentle squeeze of your wife’s hand in yours grounded you as you focused on the moment happening before you.

The feeling of longing and hopelessness that filled you faded away and was replaced with excitement as Dr. Nielson began speaking.

Wanda pretended not to notice the way you jumped slightly.

“Definitely pregnant!” The doctor confirmed cheerfully with a broad smile as he pulled the stethoscope from his ears.

A short laugh fell from Wanda’s lips as you shook your head at the doctor’s obvious statement. “Well, that much we figured.” Wanda retorted flatly.

You shifted to face the man fully. Squeezing Wanda’s hand in your own once more. “It’s just taken us a bit by surprise. It was kind of suddenly... Quite suddenly, wasn’t it? Practically overnight.”

A sharp grip on your knee stopped your words as your eyes fell to Wanda, who subtly shook her head. “What my wife means is, we’re just tickled pink… or blue!” Wanda quickly supplied as she stood up from the couch.

The doctor merely nodded, dismissing the comments as he stood up as well. “You’re at about 4 months now, is that right?” He questioned which you immediately shook your head at until you saw Wanda nodding enthusiastically and looking at you pointedly.

You began nodding slowly with an unsure smile. “That sounds about right.” You responded hesitantly. The words practically a question.

“It’s easiest for ladies such as yourself to keep tabs on growing babies with fruit. It makes it simple.” You bristled slightly at the sexist remark as the doctor continued listing the size of the baby in comparison to various fruits.

Disregarding his words, you interrupted him. “How big would the baby be at say… Twelve hours?” You attempted to ask nonchalantly.

“Twelve hours?” Dr. Nielson eyed you skeptically.

Wanda rushed over to the man and began pulling him in the direction of the door. “I think this line of questioning is fruitless!” She joked with a nervous chuckle as the disembodied voices laughed along.

Not being deterred, you followed after them. “Hypothetically speaking, should we be concerned? Or concerned that even though we may have engaged in… “ You coughed awkwardly. “Activities that typically produce children, we both lack the necessary, erm-… equipment for impregnating. Hypothetically speaking of course.”

Wanda choked at your words. “Sweetheart.” She sputtered abruptly, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

The man lightly tapped your shoulder and ignored your words. “Hypothetically speaking, every new parent gets nervous.”

As you opened your mouth to reply, Wanda quickly cut you off. “Y/n. Why don’t you see the doctor out?”

You shrugged, deciding the doctor was no help anyway. “Good idea.” You made your way over to the doctor as you began leading him out.

Before exiting, you glanced back to see Wanda looking down at her stomach with a soft smile. Your heart swelled at the sight. Any questions you may have had vanished if it meant she would keep smiling like that.

When you reached the front yard, Dr. Nielson turned towards you. “You actually caught me just in time. I’m taking the wife on vacation this afternoon.”

“Oh, have a nice holiday. Hey, Herb!” You called out politely as you waved to the neighbor. He greeted you back as he continued to trim his hedges. “Listen, doctor, do you mind keeping the news of Wanda’s… you know, just between us? Everything is happening so quickly, I think we’d like it just between us for now.”

The man mimed zipping his lips. “Mums the word.” He replied easily. “I’m off. Bermuda baby!” He cheered as he walked off.

Just as you were about to turn back inside a sharp screeching sound caught your attention. You turned rapidly, only to see Herb’s hedge trimmer cutting into the brick of the wall. “Hey, Herb,” you called out hesitantly. “I think you may have taken the hedge trimming a little too far, pal.”

Herb looked up at you with an unnerving smile as he continued cutting into the brick. “So, I have. Thanks, buddy.”

“Yeah… don’t mention it.” You mumbled uncertainly. You turned and rushed into the house, eager to get away from the odd behavior. “Darling, the strangest thing just happened outside with Herb…”

Wanda turned to face you. The sight of her stomach appearing even further along in the pregnancy than it was just moments before shocking you. “Woah! Have you gotten bigger?” you shouted with wide eyes.

The woman in question merely shrugged. “Have I? I can’t tell from this angle.”

You wandered over and placed a hand softly over her stomach. “It’s either that or I need glasses.” The disembodied voices laughed. “With how fast you’re developing I think it might be in our best interest to prepare the nursery now.”

“That’s a great idea!” Wanda exclaimed excitedly. “I’ll help you as soon as I satisfy this craving.”

With a chuckle and a nod, you began moving the boxes into the room that would eventually become the nursery. After you had built the rocking chair, a book about pregnancy caught your eye. Taking a seat on the rocking chair, you began reading in hopes of preparing yourself for the pregnancy with all the necessary knowledge. You were deeply engrossed in the book when you noticed objects begin floating around the room.

“Nesting. The overwhelming urge during pregnancy to clean, organize and prepare the home for the new baby.” You read out loud curiously as you took notice of Wanda using her powers to set up the room.

Wanda waved her hand towards a box and a mobile began floating over to hang just above the crib. “See? You’re an expert already. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Wanda replied distractedly through bites of the fruit she was eating.

Absently you flipped through the book. “Well, nothing to worry about besides morning sickness, mood swings, aching back and fe-feet.” you stuttered out as you glanced over at your pregnant wife who was, in fact, on her feet. You closed the book and put it to the side as you stood up. “Darling, you should probably sit down.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Wanda continued moving objects around the room. “Don’t be silly. All I feel is excitement, happiness, and oh!” she exclaimed as she glanced down at her stomach.

“Kicking? Already?” You asked disbelievingly as you placed your hand lightly over her stomach. “Wow…” you breathed out when you felt a gentle nudge against your fingertips.

Wanda smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling with joy. “It’s such a strange sensation. It’s kind of fluttery.” She explained with a cute scrunch of her nose.

As soon as the word fluttery left her lips the plastic butterflies that were previously hanging on the mobile became animated and fluttered over to you. “Oh, did I do that? I didn’t mean to.” She said in surprise as a butterfly landed on your nose.

She turned to you and placed her finger out for the butterfly to crawl onto, her beautiful smile growing even more. You beamed brightly back at the sight of her as she let them out the bedroom window. You opened your book up again.

“If that was the first kick that puts you at about… six months.” Your eyes widened as you flipped through the book. “Six months? That was so… fast! I can’t keep up!” You exclaimed.

Realizing how that may sound, you hurriedly kneeled down in front of Wanda and nuzzled your nose into her stomach. “Please don’t misinterpret, I can’t wait to meet you little Charlie!” You pressed a light kiss to her stomach before standing again.

“Charlie?” Wanda questioned curiously. “I was thinking Billy, just a nice, classic, all-American name.”

You tilted your head in mock thought. “Charming. But then there’s Charlie… named after the great Charles Dickens. “Life is made of so many partings welded together”” You recited to her with an excited smile.

Despite herself, Wanda couldn’t help but smirk in amusement. “Nerd. I guess there’s only one solution for this debate… hope for a girl.”

As you watched Wanda begin painting a stork on the wall with her powers, you began thinking. “I figure we should probably decide on a name soon though. Based on your rapid progression paired with the time elapsed…” You trailed off in thought.

Absentmindedly you spun the wedding ring on your finger as you attempted to figure out the timeline of the pregnancy.

After a few moments of silence, Wanda snapped her fingers in front of your face. “He’s going to be here before you figure it out.” She teased lightly.

“Well, I’m not a robot, dear.” You quipped back distractedly as you attempted to correlate the growth with the timeframe.

“And thank goodness for that.” Wanda countered easily, thoroughly enjoying watching you attempt to figure out the timeline.

Suddenly, you focused your attention back to her. “If I’m thinking this through properly and don’t hold me to this… But… I believe it’s due Friday afternoon.”

Wanda’s eyes widened at the information. “In three days?” She choked out. “Maybe I should sit down.”

“I need to practice!” You shouted unexpectedly as the information settled with you as well. Quickly, you grabbed a toy doll out of one of the boxes, a couple loose diapers and ran out of the room. Wanda shook her head at your antics but followed you out nonetheless.

After several practice rounds, you picked up the baby and stared it down seriously. The sound of laughter floated around you. “I think we have an understanding.” You told the inanimate object determinedly. “Start the clock!” You called to Wanda who immediately began the timer.

Fumbling only slightly, you were able to get the diaper on the baby with ease. “Time!” You shouted triumphantly.

“Your personal best.” Wanda called from the kitchen with a smile.

You pumped your fist in the air in celebration. “Yes! We are nothing if not prepared!”

“Oh!” Wanda breathed out, her face scrunched in discomfort.

At the sound, your head snapped over to Wanda. “Darling?” you questioned in concern.

Once again, Wanda scrunched her face. “Did the book talk about this? It’s not a painful, but a strange…”

Vaguely you recalled reading about the feeling she was describing. You quickly began flipping through the book. Stopping shortly after when you found the information you were searching for. “Tightening sensation?” you offered helpfully.

Wanda nodded, still cringing ever so slightly. “Yup. That’s it.”

You quickly skimmed over the page. “Braxton Hick’s contractions.” You informed her as you read on. “Also known as false labor. Usually begins in the third trimester. Named after John Braxton Hicks in 1875-”

“Honey.” Wanda interrupted, gesturing for you to get to the point.

“Right!” You skimmed further. “This could give us a chance to work on our breathing exercises.” You suggested as you made your way over to her and rubbed her back in soothing circles.

Wanda nodded in agreement as you demonstrated the recommended breathing technique, which she replicated. “Yeah, it’s not working. I can still feel it.” She said with a frown.

You pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Before you could get another word out, Wanda let out a short yell as everything in the kitchen went into a fritz.

“Let’s abandon the kitchen!” you shouted as you protectively took Wanda by the hand and led her out. Wanda’s screams remained steady from the discomfort the entire way, much to your eardrums displeasure.

A sudden, bright flash of light startled you as you both naturally fell into a defensive stance. Standing back-to-back, you both lifted your hands in preparation to fight if necessary.

Almost as soon as you were in position, the house returned to normal. “It stopped.” Wanda said apprehensively as her hands remained in their defensive position.

“I’ll go check outside.” You said and rushed out the door, returning shortly after with the information. “It looks like the whole block is out.”

Wanda wandered over to the couch and took a precarious seat. “And that was just a fake contraction. Who knows what will happen when the real thing starts.” Her brows creased together in worry. “Do you think they know it’s my fault?”

You began making your way over to your wife. “Our neighbors?”

“Well, yes. With all the close calls we’ve been having it seems the people of Westview are always on the verge of discovering our secret.” She admitted worriedly.

Thoughtfully you ponded her question and all the odd occurrences that had happened around you since you arrived in Westview. “I know what you mean.” You began somberly as you took a seat next to Wanda. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Mr. Hart and Ellie, dinner, my dream, outside with Herb…”

Wanda’s eyes glimmered with concern as she watched you anxiously.

“I think something is wrong here, Wanda.” You finished softly. She searched your eyes as the pain in her eyes became more prominent...

“Do you think they know it’s my fault?”

You began making your way over to your wife and took a seat next to her. You gently took her hand in yours. “Yes, I know what you mean. The truth is we are in uncharted waters and you know what? I’m anxious too.” You admitted to her reassuringly. The voices cooed.

A soft smile formed on Wanda’s lips as she stared at you adoringly. “We just don’t know what to expect.” You nodded your head slightly in agreement as Wanda continued. “Will the baby have powers? Will it be my powers? Or your powers? A bit of both? No powers?”

The twinkle in her eyes caused your stomach to flip. “If he’s anything like his mother, Charlie will be perfect.”

Wanda smirked. “You mean Billy.” You were about to respond when Wanda gasped loudly, startling you out of your seat.

“Darling, are you alright?” you questioned fearfully as you scrambled back to your feet.

Wanda braced herself slightly. “This is a real one.” She gritted out.

“What?” you shouted as you began floating away from the ground.

Wanda glared at you from her position on the couch. “I thought you said Friday!”

“I told you I wasn’t a robot!” you defended anxiously as you continued floating higher, losing your ability to control the action.

Through the chaos in your mind you could hear Wanda begin her breathing exercises as she gestured for you to follow along. You nervously began following along, drifting back down to the floor a few seconds later. Wanda stood up and made her way over to you, soothingly taking your hand in hers. For a moment you both stood in place as you matched one another’s breathing. Slowly but surely regaining your composure.

“Better?” Wanda questioned teasingly after a moment.

You took another deep breath. “Yes, darling, thank you.” You replied sheepishly.

Not even a moment later, water began falling steadily over the entirety of the house, drenching you both in a seemingly never-ending downpour.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think my water just broke.”

“Yes, dear…”

In a bid to seek shelter you ushered Wanda to the dining room table as you crawled under after her. Your nerves were on high alert as even the downpour couldn’t pull your worries away from the fact that your wife was going into labor. Your eyes remained anxiously transfixed on the woman next to you who was pouting in displeasure at the water ruining the room. Much to your relief, the downpour finally slowed and then stopped altogether.

You quickly crawled out from under the space. “Let me help you up, dear.” You quickly offered Wanda, not wanting her to strain herself in anyway. As you gently helped her to her feet, her eyes seemed most focused on the room around you.

A small frown tugged at the corner of her lips as she surveyed the room. “What a mess!” Before you could react, she waved her hands and a powerful gust of wind blew in through the door, nearly knocking you off your feet. “That’s better.”

Her contentment was short lived as another groan of discomfort fell from her lips. “Darling, do you think it’s time to-”

“Call the doctor? Yes, I do, dear.” You responded quickly without letting her finish as you sprinted over to the phone only to hear the dial tone fill your ears. “Damn! The phones are down. I better run. Let’s hope he didn’t already leave for vacation.”

Wanda gasp as she rubbed her stomach anxiously. “At a time like this?” she cried.

Attempting to sooth her, you brushed a hand along her cheek lightly. A nervous smile on your lips. “Well, in all fairness darling, the baby is about nine months early. I’ll be back as fast as I can. Will you be alright here?”

A hesitant nod was Wanda’s only response. You pressed a short kiss to her lips and frantically raced out the door.

As Wanda attempted to calm herself through her breathing exercise, the sound of rustling in the nursery caught her attention. Just as she began making her way towards the sound, the doorbell sounded, causing her to jump.

“Oh shoot!” She exclaimed, knowing that company meant she would have to explain her unexplainable pregnancy. Thinking quickly, she waved a hand and a coat floated out of the closest and covered her.

“Wanda! What’s up?” Geraldine began as soon as Wanda opened the door. Her brows furrowed when she noticed the coat the other woman was wearing. “It’s 75 degrees out, you making a fashion statement?” She questioned lightly as she walked into the home.

A forced smile formed on Wanda’s face as she attempted to speak through the contractions as they came and went. “Hi Geraldine, you know, now isn’t really a good time.” She informed the other woman politely.

Geraldine turned to face Wanda. “No, no, no, it’s foxy. You’ll have to let me borrow it sometime.” She replied, misinterpreting the meaning of Wanda’s words. “But first, I have to borrow a bucket. Not to wear, to use. Somehow all the pipes in my ceiling burst at once and I have to bail myself out.”

“Alright, sure! Just stay right there, I think I may have a bucket in the kitchen!” Wanda shouted when she noticed Geraldine turn. She quickly ran passed Geraldine and into the kitchen, keeping her coat wrapped tightly around her abdominal area. “I think it’s just here under the s-sINK!” She cried as another painful contraction overcame her.

“Are you alright in there?” Geraldine called out in concern.

Another contraction came as Wanda attempted to control her tone through this one. “Y-yes, I’m just looking-ow!” She stuttered out as her coat magically transformed into a fur coat. Despite the situation she couldn’t help but admire the quality.

“I’ll come help.” Geraldine announced as Wanda quickly took off the coat and threw it to the side.

“No! I mean, no thank you!” she quickly corrected herself.

Her words fell on deaf ears as Geraldine wandered over to the closet in the kitchen, her back to Wanda. “Found it!” As she turned, Wanda grabbed a bowl of fruit to hide her stomach now that the coat wasn’t an option. “Would you look at that?” Wanda tensed. “Fruit! Wanda, thank you!” Geraldine said cheerfully as she took an apple. Wanda’s shoulder slouched with relief.

“Good luck with the leak.” Wanda breathed out as she began to follow Geraldine out. She was glad to have avoided any incident.

Geraldine continued speaking despite having the item she came for. Even though she knew it wasn’t neighborly, Wanda couldn’t help but tune out Geraldine as she spoke. If she wasn’t in the middle of giving birth she knew she would care more about being a good hostess, but that just wasn’t a priority to her at the moment.

That is until a stork appeared behind the couch Geraldine was currently rising from. “Wait, no! Tell me about the temp job!” She urged desperately, sighing in relief when Geraldine smiled and sat back down. The woman excitedly began recounting her story.

Seeing how thrilled her friend was, Wanda did her best to listen half-heartedly as the stork continued to wander around in the background despite numerous attempts to make it go away. Much to Wanda’s relief, Geraldine was oblivious to the chaos occurring around her as she engrossed in the story she was telling. Wanda was able to get away with just making small comments here and there.

As one disaster was averted, Geraldine began making her way into the nursery where the stork had just gone into. “Wait!” Wanda cried as she rushed after her, grabbing a vase to cover her stomach along the way.

“Is that what I think it is?” Geraldine asked, her tone serious as she looked in the direction of where the stork was perched against the painting on the wall.

A nervous chuckle escaped Wanda’s lips. “Oh, a stork. Yes. I can explain.”

Excitedly, Geraldine turned to face Wanda. “No! The crib.” She gestured to the object in question.

Not a moment after Geraldine began admiring the nursery, another contraction overtook Wanda, the force of it causing her to drop the vase. The object shattered at her feet. “Oh, it’s coming! The baby is coming!” She cried out through heavy breaths.

“You’re pregnant?” Geraldine questioned, eyes wide in bewilderment. Instead of answering another scream fell from Wanda’s lips as she placed her hands over her stomach.

Geraldine cautiously led Wanda out of the nursery. “Let’s get you comfortable.” She rushed over to the couch and began gathering the pillows.

Several items in the house began moving on their own as the radio stirred to life at a loud volume.

“Lovin' you is more than just a dream come true and everything that I do is out of lovin' you…”

Wanda began lowering herself to the floor, practically having to shout over the music. “I think I’m going to lay down right here. Y/n ran to get the doctor, she’ll be back soon.” She gritted out as she carelessly fell back against the floor.

Hurriedly, Geraldine shoved a pillow under Wanda’s head before it could make contact with the floor. “There’s not enough time for that. Relax, relax.” She frantically said as she rushed around the area, gathering different items. “You know your breathing, right?”

The radio began playing even louder as Wanda ground her teeth together, attempting to breathe in the rhythmical pattern she had practiced earlier. Rather than the rhythmic breathes, muffled screams slipped passed Wanda’s lips instead.

Geraldine gasped loudly as a chandelier fell near her and the music began playing even louder. “I may be late to the party, but I imagine there’s a logical explanation for this.” She told Wanda in a calming tone as she set down all the items she grabbed.

“It’s all perfectly natural!” Wanda managed in between screams as the volume of the radio continued to rise with her screams.

With wide eyes Geraldine took hold of Wanda’s knee to attempt to ground her. “Hey, hey, you’re doing great. Let’s start by turning off the music.” Geraldine shouted over the radio. Wanda faintly heard her and weakly waved a hand, effectively stopping the music, but the paintings continued spinning on the wall. “Look at me. Look at me.” Geraldine said calmly and began replicating the breathing Wanda had worked on with you earlier.

With terrified eyes, Wanda kept her gaze locked on Geraldine, desperately wishing you were there to comfort her through this. “I can’t.” she cried out, shaking her head as tears slowly fell down her cheeks.

“Yes, you can. You can do this.” Geraldine countered unflinchingly. Wanda continued shaking her head frantically. “Yes, you can!” she shouted at her.

The tears fell more steadily down Wanda’s cheeks as the fear set in. “I can’t.” She repeated tearfully. “I need Y/n. I need Y/n.” She begged, desperately seeking her one source of comfort.

Leaning down, Geraldine checked how far along Wanda was. “It’s time to start pushing.” She said excitedly with a smile. Wanda continued shaking her head. “You’re ready! Push! Push, Wanda!” She encouraged supportively.

With a scream, Wanda began pushing. All of the objects in the house began moving on their own until they suddenly stopped when Wanda’s screaming stopped. The soft coos coming from the baby filled the quiet room. “It’s a boy.” Geraldine announced with a smile. The smile that lit up Wanda’s face was incomparable to the happiness she felt in her heart. Geraldine wrapped him up handed her the baby.

The baby who was a piece of herself and you… the person she loved most in the world. “Hi... Hi.” She whispered to the baby as she traced a finger delicately along his cheek. “Oh, he’s perfect.”

Almost as soon as the words left her lips, you rushed into the home with Dr. Nielson on your back. “Oh no, I missed it.” You whispered sadly. The frown on your face faded when Wanda looked up at you with a smile that stopped your world. The way her eyes shone took your breath away. The world around you both faded as you stared at one another in an awestruck haze of love.

Indistinctly you could see Geraldine pull a shaky Dr. Nielson out of the room as you dazedly made your way over to your wife, kneeling at her side. “Every time I think I couldn’t be more in love...” You breathed out as your eyes fell on the bundle in her arms. Wanda’s breath hitched slightly as emotion flooded her eyes.

“Y/n, would you like to meet your son?” Wanda asked softly.

As gently as you could, you took the baby into your arms. The smile on your face growing even more when he looked up at you. Wanda’s heart fluttered at the sight. “Hello, little Billy.” You cooed as he took hold of your finger. .

Wanda tilted her head in surprise, unable to hold back her smile at your words. “Billy?”

With a nod, you lovingly looked back at her. “Yes. Billy.” Making sure Billy was secure in your arms, you leaned down to kiss Wanda. Just as your lips were about to connect, she began screaming.

Unsure of what was going on, you began yelling as well. “What?” you shouted in bewilderment. When you glanced down you realized what was happening. “Oh! There’s another baby coming!”

“Charlie!” Wanda shouted through the contraction.

“Wanda, push! Push!” You encouraged lovingly, all the while making sure Billy was safe in your arms. With you by her side, the fear that Wanda felt earlier vanished.

With you by her side she knew she could do anything.

When all was said and done, Dr. Nielson did one final glance over the twins. “Twenty fingers and twenty toes. You have one healthy baby boy and one healthy baby girl on your hands.” He declared cheerfully as he handed the baby in his arms back to Wanda.

Wanda eagerly took the baby back in her arms as you gently rocked the other. “Thank you, doctor.” She responded with a smile.

He turned and pointed at Geraldine. “And thank you for all your assistance, young lady. I think you might have what it takes to be a nurse.” Both Geraldine and Wanda shared amused looks with one another at the comment.

“Allow me to walk you out, doctor.” You offered as you gently placed the baby down in the crib.

Dr. Nielson nervously shifted. “As long as we’re actually walking this time.” He replied skeptically as he followed you out the door.

“Well, Dr. Nielson, I hope you’re still able to make your trip.” You said polietly with a smile when you both reached the front yard.

Again, Dr. Nielson shifted in place. “Yes, my trip. I don’t think we’ll make it after all. Small towns, you know, so hard to… escape.” He murmured cryptically before walking off.

For a moment you stared after him, wondering what he meant. Shaking it off, you turned to head back inside only to see Agnes and Ellie whispering amongst themselves by one of the walls that you shared with the house next door. “Hello, neighbors!” You called politely.

“Hey!” They replied suspiciously in unison before going back to whispering amongst themselves.

Unable to help yourself, you wandered over. “Remarkable day we’re having. Did you lose power too?” You asked in a friendly tone, noting the way their postures changed when you were near.

“Sure did, but Ralph looks better in the dark so I’m not complaining.” Agnes joked.

Ellie nodded along. “I barely even noticed it... I’m very resourceful.” She added with a wink.

You chuckled uncomfortably as they joined in with their own laughter. “Well. I better get back to Wanda.” You mumbled awkwardly, turning back towards the house.

“Y/n.” Ellie called after you, causing you to turn around. “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

With furrowed brows you stepped closer to them, feeling unnerved by their behavior. “Yes, why?”

Ellie hesitated, almost as if she was unsure if she wanted to tell you. “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

“No family, no husband.” Agnes added, her expression portraying how odd she found the situation.

You shrugged indifferently. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.” You countered with a confused smile.

Agnes made a short noise of disagreement and Ellie pursed her lips. “No home.” Agnes eventually supplied.

“What?” you questioned disbelievingly. “What do you mean she has no home?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably. “She came here because-… She came here because we’re all-… You are-…”

“She came here because we’re all what? I’m what? What are you trying to tell me?” You replied, feeling your patience wearing thin.

Shaking her head, Ellie continued. “She came here because you need to-”

“Stop it.” Agnes cut her off sharply as she turned to face her head on. You noticed the way she shook her head.

Almost as though someone flipped a switch, they both became upbeat again. “Well, we better get going.” Agnes rang the bell on her bike with a wink.

Ellie nodded along. “Those papers aren’t going to write themselves.” She said cheerfully as they both walked off leaving you thoroughly confused as you made your way back to your wife. ____________ “You’re such a strong lady.” Geraldine complimented Wanda who waved her hand bashfully in response. “Can you believe it? Twins!” She leaned forward to get a better look at the babies nestled safely in their cribs.

The smile on Wanda’s face was bright with all the love she felt in the moment. She stared at the two babies in the crib with Geraldine, her smile becoming somber. “I’m a twin.” She confessed. Her eyes glimmered with memories as she looked over at Geraldine. “I had a brother, his name was… Pietro. Y/n had a sister too. Anna. One in memory of each.” She whispered out softly her eyes falling to the babies again.

Lost in her memories, Wanda began singing a sokovian lullaby that would forever be nestled into her heart. The memory both painful and beautiful as she continued to sing to her children.

“He was killed by Ultron, wasn’t he?” Geraldine questioned suddenly, her expression grave. “And Y/n’s sister. Hydra murdered her to torture Y/n, didn’t they?”

The song died on Wanda’s lips with Geraldine’s words. Her brows furrowed as she processed what she had just heard. Her shoulders tensed. “What did you say?” A tear fell down her cheek. When Geraldine didn’t reply, Wanda turned towards her. “What did you say?” She repeated, her eyes cold.

A forced smile overcame Geraldine’s features. “I said, Wanda, you’re such a strong lady.” She moved to hover by the couch. “Should I say it again for good measure?”

“No.” Wanda said sharply. “What did you say about Pietro and Anna?”

Geraldine seemed to think for a moment, feigning confusion. “Pietro? Anna?” Wanda tilted her head. The babies began crying. “Hey, I’ll take a shift rocking the babies.” She offered as she began heading back over to the cribs.

Wanda stepped protectively in front of them. “No. I think you should leave.” She told her, her tone dark.

“Oh, Wanda, don’t be like that.” Geraldine retorted tensely.

For the first time, Wanda noticed the necklace around Geraldine’s neck. “What is that?” She insisted, pointing shakily to piece of jewelry. “That symbol.”

“I-uh…” Geraldine stuttered as she took hold of the necklace.

“Who are you?” Wanda demanded. The threat in her eyes sent a chill down Geraldine’s spine.

Geraldine faintly shook her head, her eyes troubled. “I don’t-”

“Who are you?” Wanda repeated sharply. The calm that overtook Wanda was unsettling as she slowly moved forward. Geraldine stepped back fearfully.

The front door burst open as you rushed inside. “Wanda, where’s Geraldine?” You questioned as you looked around the house.

“Oh, she left, honey. She had to rush home.” Wanda replied easily with her back towards you as she watched the babies sleep peacefully. . . . . “If no one is going to say it, I will. That episode was adorable.” Darcy emphasized as she watched both you and Wanda settle on the couch with a baby in each of your arms. Wanda leaned over and lovingly pressed a kiss to your lips as the credits rolled. “Aww… I mean, c’mon. Look at them, they’re so precious. And now they started a family.” Darcy cooed as she watched the screen fade to black.

There was silence for a moment. “The babies are cute.” Steve admitted quietly. The sound of a soft thud filled the room as Natasha once again hit the back of Steve’s head. “What? They are!”

Natasha shook her head. “They are, but the issue here is we’re being given a filtered broadcast. Someone is controlling what we’re allowed to see. And even worse, we don’t know what happened to Monica.”

“Natasha is right.” Fury interjected. “Darcy, you’ll be going to S.W.O.R.D. so you can gain some intel about what they’re planning.”

Darcy’s head snapped up in shock. “I’m just the astrophysicist here, not the Russian spy.” Natasha smirked at the comment.

“Even more of a reason they won’t suspect you.” Fury countered easily. “You can find Hayward’s plan… and find out if they’re the reason agent Fletcher is now a part of this.”

Steve crossed his arms. “Amelia was Y/n’s partner the entire time she was away from the Avengers. I have on good authority that they were close. I can’t imagine she’s there to harm her.”

“That was before the blip.” Natasha said calculatingly. “We can’t assume anything. She’s playing her part a little too well.”

As Steve was about to respond, Fury’s phone went off. They all watched with bated breath as he took the call. When he hung up, he turned to face them a pensive expression on his face. “It seems as though Monica has been found. Blasted through the hex.”

“You called it the hex!” Darcy exclaimed as they all turned to look at her in exasperation. “Sorry, not the time.”

This part may just be the longest piece I’ve ever written because there was so much I wanted to fit in. Also! If anyone wants to know what song I imagined Wanda and Y/n dancing around to in the beginning just let me know because I imagined a specific song in that scene, but didn’t feel it was important to include lol. Sorry for writing out Tommy, creating a different twin for Billy felt important to the story to properly express Wanda’s emotions.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed!

Thoughts and comments always welcome! I love hearing from you all! :)

#wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #mcu x reader #wanda mcu #MCU x Y/N #Avengers #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

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pinkanonwrites · 3 years

Note

a while ago i had asked for a fic about Yaku and the reader being put in a closet and eventually confessing. At the end it got suggestive before cutting to Kuroo’s pov. Can I maybe ask you to write a follow up to that? preferably with a bit of a biting kink and a breeding kink? If not that’s completely okay! Thank you so much <3

Here we go! This is a continuation of this fic here!

NSFW Below the cut! 1,000+ words. AFAB Reader with They/Them pronouns. Dry humping, oral (receiving), hair-pulling.

"Perfect. God, you're perfect."

One hand resting on your hip, the other clutching to your hiked-up thigh, it was easy to feel the bulge in the front of Yaku's slacks as he shamelessly rutted against you. Hot and eager, his tongue lathed over the curve of your neck after each bite, each hickey to soothe the sting. You buried both hands in his hair, the seam in the front of you jeans rubbing perfectly against your clit with each roll of your hips.

"Fuck, Morisuke!"

"That's it, baby. God, I love it when you say my name like that." His hands fumbled at the button of your pants. He let your leg come down to rest over his shoulder as he sunk to his knees, wrestling your pants as far down as he could get them in that position. "I've wanted to do this for years."

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck." You gasped, hands hovering for a moment before coming to rest in his hair. He let out a low, approving hum as he nuzzled the crotch of your underwear, sighing almost reverently. You knew what was coming, but you couldn't stop the full-body shiver that ran through you as you felt his tongue slide up your clothed slit to further wet the already damp fabric.

He spread his knees further, the hand not clutching your thigh tugging at his zipper as he buried his face into your heat, mouthing and nosing the thin fabric eagerly. You gasped as he ran his tongue up the length of your slit when his nose bumped roughly against your swollen clit, fingers twisting in his hair for purchase.

"Shit." He gasped against your cunt, jamming the front of his boxer-briefs down in a desperate bid to get his hand around his cock even faster. His relieved moan rumbled through your sensitive skin and made your knees shake. You pulled his head back with one hand fisted in his hair, almost losing yourself in his hungry expression before you could pull it together long enough to push your panties down and out of the way.

The position itself was a little awkward, neither of you willing to let go of the other long enough to find one more comfortable. But God, you didn't care. And from the way his eyes lit up in the dim closet as you finally exposed yourself to him, Yaku didn't care much either.

"Gonna make you cum so hard," He gasped. "Just hold onto me, baby, keep pulling my hair like that and- fuuuck..." You fisted both hands again, mussing his curly blond strands between your fingers and making him shudder. He sunk into you like a ravenous animal, desperately licking and sucking and groaning against your cunt as he fisted himself in his hand. Your head knocked back against the wall as you moaned, and it was only when you glanced Kuroo's coat hanging behind Yaku that you briefly entertained the idea that you should try and be quiet.

But then Yaku dug his fingernails into the meat of your thigh as he sucked harshly on your swollen clit, and the idea was swiftly forgotten. You could barely hear the slick rhythm of his hand around his cock, the rumbled groans he buried in your pussy, over the sound of your own gasps and your heartbeat thundering in your ears. Your stomach twisted like a knot, heat trickling down to your fingertips and to the tips of your toes as he pushed you higher, closer, desperately near the edge.

It was the same motion, his nose bumping harshly against your clit as he buried his tongue within you, that finally pushed you over the edge. You practically sobbed as your orgasm washed over you, unable to escape his relentless mouth and barely even able to keep yourself upright as your legs shivered. Finally, he moaned sharp and desperately against your aching folds as the slick sounds of his hand slowly came to a stop.

You both sat there for a moment, his face still pressed into your cunt, his hand rubbing circles into your twitching thigh as you both came down from your high. Eventually he pulled back, gazing up at you with what you could only describe as barely-contained adoration. Maybe the combination of the overly-sweet expression with the glisten of your slick smeared across his mouth and chin shouldn't have turned you on quite as much as it did, but who were you to complain?

He gently let your leg back down, rubbing your knee as you came to rest back on the floor again. "I think I've got tissues in my coat pocket, hang on a minute." He rustled through the coats with his clean hand and came back with a fistful of tissues, using a few to clean himself up before swiping gently along your inner thighs. You hummed, pushing your fingers through his hair one more time, much gently than before.

"Sorry if I pulled too hard."

"God, don't be. I liked it."

You giggled, letting him finish cleaning you up and gently tug your now-wrinkled clothes back into place. Once he stood up he finally began to look a bit sheepish, a blush beginning to crawl its way across his cheeks.

"So, I know this isn't exactly in the right order or anything, but I'm in town for a few more days, and if you'd like to go out somewhere, maybe get dinner? Or-"

You pressed a kiss to his lips, licking the taste of yourself off your own with the tip of your tongue. "I'd love to, Morisuke."

"Wonderful. I know a place I think you'll really like, actually."

"Oh really?"

"I definitely haven't been hanging onto it as a potential date spot since high school or anything, either."

"I'm looking forward to it. What are you gonna do with those?" You gestured to the wadded fistful of tissues in Yaku's hand. He glanced around a bit before shrugging, jamming the entire fistful into the pocket of one of Kuroo's coats. "Mori!"

"He locked us in a closet. This is just getting even."

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #yaku morisuke #yaku x reader #yaku imagines #yaku smut #my writing #1000+ words

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starlightsearches · 3 years

Note

Could we have some Hux being anxious about work in the first order and having trouble sleeping, and the reader eventually noticing this and helping him sleep? And perhaps Hux requesting that the reader stay with him every night, because their presence and being held by them helps so much? Sorry if this is too confusing!

Thanks for the request, friend! I loved writing this and I hope you like it, too!

Requests are open ✨

Armitage Hux x GN! Reader

Warnings: PINING, language, minor suggestive content and that’s it!

“It’s late, general.”

Armitage looks up, his eyes stinging, and his vision blurs when he tries to check the time. He squints for a moment, trying to focus, before giving up and turning back to you.

“I thought I dismissed you hours ago.”

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the door frame—planting yourself. "And I told you I was willing to work as long as I was needed."

Hux rolls his eyes. Damn your persistence; why couldn't you be as lazy the others on the crew?

"Once again: you're dismissed for the evening. I suggest you get some rest before your next shift."

You make no move to leave his office, chewing on your lip. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

That's a terrible idea. The connection between his mouth and his brain must be severed, though, because he's just as surprised as you are when he hears himself speak. "Permission granted."

Your eyebrows raise, but you overcome the shock quickly, moving towards him with a few long strides, planting your hands on the edge of his desk. "Sir, you're killing yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The way you work—it's not sustainable. You need to take care of yourself. There's no one here who can do what you do."

He watches your lips as you speak, trying to internalize the words, but in the back of his mind, a familiar scene plays—more like a memory now than a fantasy, given how often it graces his thoughts. He thinks what it would be like to press his lips to yours, the warmth of your cheek against his cupped hand, how tenderly you would move against him, the way you would taste.

He shakes the vision away.

"I believe that you could," he whispers instead, and that's it's own little thrill—what could be more intimate than honesty?

You smile, glance away—much too modest. "You overestimate my abilities, general."

You’re wrong—he’s estimated you perfectly, even with his infatuation-addled gaze—but he doesn’t correct you. Instead, he pauses, running his tongue over dry lips. "I can't sleep."

More honest, more intimate—and this a thousand times worse because it feels like a weakness, like he’s placed a weapon into your waiting hands and he has to look away. He can’t watch you deliver the killing blow.

Soft fingers stroke the back of his hand, instead, prompting him to meet your eyes again. He finds no pity in your expression, thank gods, even if you pull your hand away too quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “that must be difficult. Have you considered going to the medbay? I’m sure that they—”

“No,” he stops you, voice harsh before he remembers himself, “no, I don’t want that.”

You nod, although he’s sure you don’t entirely understand, but you make an attempt, and there’s a weight to your effort, a heavy significance he can’t parse out. That doesn’t mean he won’t try—it has to mean something.

You place your hand over his again, and everything else in his mind is forgotten. “Tell me what you need, general. I want to help.”

-------------------------------------------------

You’re standing in his quarters, fidgeting gently with the hem of your pajama shirt, chewing on your lip, and he stands beside you, skin too tight, lungs too shallow.

Neither of you can take your eyes off his bed.

It’s all felt navigable, up to this point, despite the unfamiliar territory. He hadn’t grimaced—like he’d wanted to—when he’d taken your duffel bag from off your shoulder, heavy with a fresh uniform and everything you’d need to ready yourself for your shift the next morning. He hadn’t thought about how often you’d packed the same bag for visits to other officers’ quarters for decidedly different reasons.

He’d managed to keep calm as you explained your morning routine, negotiated who would use the refresher first, and how much time you’d need to get ready. He hadn’t mentioned how much time you’d save in the morning if you shared the shower.

And now you’re here—the First Order’s greatest military strategists—both at a loss on how to handle sharing a bed.

“I guess I could . . .” you gesture weakly to the left side of the mattress, and he nods a little too fervently.

“Yes, alright,” he agrees but neither of you move for a moment. He steels himself, fists clenched tightly at his side as he takes the first step around the right side of the bed, watching the way his hands move as he pulls back the dark blanket, the cool silk sheets.

He can’t look at you at all as you slide into bed beside him, pulling the covers up over your chest, folding your arms over your stomach, stiff, like you’re being interred. He can’t let himself see you—laying beside him in the still night—he turns off the lights, plunging the room into darkness, and he’s lost his chance.

Oh gods, this is so much worse. He’s never felt more awake in his life, his entire body humming with your proximity—with the knowledge that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to, and the shame of knowing that he wouldn’t dare.

He feels your every movement, can’t even begin to relax, waiting for the next rustle of the sheets, the next reminder that you’re here with him.

“I don’t think that this is working,” he whispers, moving into a sitting position, ready to tell you that it’s alright, he’s a lost cause, ready to order you back to your own quarters for the night and forget that he was ever foolish enough to let this happen.

“What if I . . .?” You whisper back, and he stops, waiting, so hopeful that he thinks it might kill him.

The darkness has made you bold, it seems. Your fingers fold themselves gently around his wrist, your skin hot against his own, and there’s no part of him that wants to resist when you pull him closer.

He’s obedient, following your every direction as you fit his body against yours—his head resting in the curve of your neck, back pressed firmly against your chest. One hand rests against his bony hip and his eyes flutter closed when he feels you stroke the other through his hair, still a little damp from the shower. A soft gasp escapes his lips at the feeling, and he hopes you don’t hear it.

“Is that better?” you ask quietly, and in the dark he’s better able to sense the tightness in your voice, a glowing warmth settling in his chest and he hums appreciatively. All the previous tension has melted away, it seems, built higher and higher by his desire to touch you, and turned to dust now that it has been fulfilled.

You find a steady rhythm, together, your chest rising and falling in tandem with his, your nails moving gently against his scalp until your fingers stop, buried deep in his locks.

You must be asleep, he thinks absently, and he’s headed that way as well, his body resting heavily against the mattress. With the last of his strength, he takes your hand in his, pulling it away from his hip, pressing the tips of your fingers gently against his lips before letting them fall against his chest, over his heart.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, holding you tightly. He hopes it’s enough to make you stay.

AN: Thanks for reading, friends! The little detail about Hux kissing the reader’s fingers was stolen from a wonderful anon I got a few weeks ago, but I figured I had to add it because it’s one of the best things I’ve ever heard!

Hux Tag List: @theredwolfisalesbian, @thembohux, @writingletterstothefire, @catboykenobii, @missmadwoman, @evarinaandlat, @sitherin-mxschief, @imafatassmess, @toasterking, @rosevon7975, @holdurhuxbby, @armitages-galaxy, @dark-lord-of-the-simps, @daughterofaries, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @aramanna, @theold-ultraviolence, @mrs-ghuleh, @lemongingerart, @isthisheaven5, @trash-queen-af, @generalthirst, @tobealostwanderer

Join my tag list here!

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Text

DEBRIS AND MISERY

SAME OLD LOKI ; PART 6 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k (oops) SUMMARY: You find yourself venturing deeper into finding the Loki variant on the loose with the help of Mobius and Loki while maintaining your temper around the God of mischief and fighting with your own demons. A/N: Downtime apparently lasted for more than a week. I had absolutely no motivation to write but I eventually came around. There’s alot going on in this. Please tell me what you think, what you love, hate and look forward to. Thank you so much for showing so much love to d&m. gif from this gifset by @sersi WARNINGS: Swearing. Imagery relating to death (i think?). You and Loki’s relationship fluctuating like the goddamn economy. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

Blue. Your flight suit is blue.

Your eyes sting with worry, ticking to a pair of hands buckling the straps that lay across your chest. A man secures it tightly, forcing your back against the cockpit chair. Your gaze drifts to the concentric steel rings of yellow, red, and white that stretch overhead and around you—being suspended within a 3-axis gimbal sends another churning sensation within your abdomen.

You hear a voice. It courses through the room and vibrates within your ears like fluttering echoes in a tunnel. It’s a man. He calls out your name from below.

“You ready?”

In your periphery, you see him, tall with slicked-back hair, standing with other men that adorn similar flight suits of blue. You nod, inhaling deeply as your hands reach for the controls. Suddenly, a metallic clang echoes through the room and the machine whirrs to life. The rings begin spinning in tandem, tossing your body in all directions. Your grip tightens around the controls, clicking with every push and pull as you struggle to analyze the spin. But, the machine spins faster.

Faster and faster and faster.

The machine continues to whirr. Your hands are still shifting the controls.

Faster and faster and faster.

Your eyes begin to droop, nausea taking hold of your body.

Faster and faster and faster.

You only hear your breaths; every inhale and exhale—they're loud.

Faster and faster and faster.

Too fast.

Stop.

...

Click. Click. Click.

Footsteps. Not the clicks of the controls. You hear them clicking against tile floors from afar. From darkness, your eyes meet the color brown, shiny and polished—it’s wooden. The sound of the vast building’s acoustics hum in tune with the occasional chatter and echoing thump. You recognize the ambiance and it comforts your hasty thoughts as your brain tries to wreck itself in comprehending your current surroundings.

It’s one of those dreams again. The ones that kept you awake at night since the Sakaar incident, as if reliving the memories of another life. It isn’t yours but the realism to it makes it so complex that your brain cannot even comprehend the experiences during these dreams that occur.

To see, touch, hear, smell, and taste. Do dreams exceed the limit of disconnection and logic? Are dreams to be so immersive that it feels more like a memory, an echo of the past?

Through the turmoil of parsing between what’s real and what’s not, a tap on your shoulder hauls you back to reality. You turn to see Mobius, looking ridiculously exhilarated. Behind him lingers an amused Loki, hands tugging into the pockets of his jacket. The analyst says your name with a tone of equal exuberance to his manner.

“I thought I’d find you here. Do you always sleep at the archives?”

You snort, seizing yourself up as you wipe your face with your palm in hopes of feeling slightly more awake and alive than you were before. “No. Sometimes, I sleep at my desk too.”

Exhausted and sarcastic. Typical you.

Mobius rounds the table to sit beside you, gesturing Loki to his previous spot before he got up and ran away from you without any explanation. He shoots you a smile, lips pressed together, almost hesitant to sit across from you. You watch him through narrowed eyes as you address him with folded arms. “And here you are, back here again.”

Loki cannot fight the growing grin upon his lips, knowing all too well that you're referring to how he led you into an unnecessary chase down the corridors of the TVA for the sake of his entertainment. Well, it was not unnecessary. Things were turning out to be a bore and with the sudden thought of a proposition to help with his case, it doesn’t mean he has to drag out the fun of irritating the hell out of everyone else.

And you are not a bore.

“Loki! Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

You’re outright screaming at him but his long legs only stride faster than yours could handle, slumber still clinging to your face like a thick, waxen mask. He’s so quick, weaving through tangerine hallways, skidding across the tiled floors.

He saunters down the hall with quick feet but doesn’t sprint, clever enough not to draw any attention.

He ought to answer you. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he flashes you a cheeky smile. He swears he saw flames burning in your eyes for a moment.

As you wind another corner, you already see him making one last quick dart through the elevator doors that slide open as it dings unceremoniously. Through your wide-eyed gaze, you signal him with eyes that carry a warning.

“Don’t you dare close that fucking door.” you snarl, voice booming from down the hallway and so does the clicking of the heels of your Oxford shoes as you march towards him like you’re on the hunt for prey.

Loki jams his finger onto the button to close the doors, unable to wipe off his grin. “Don’t you trust me?” is all he says to you, sending you a wink through the closing gap of the elevator doors as he raises his palm to wave you farewell.

You decided Loki wasn’t worth the time he has already taken from your assigned paperwork. So, you returned to your desk with a trace of bitterness in your tongue while attempting to suppress the regret for actually feeling sorry for Loki. Only because you know how it is like to be alone.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. He makes you think he is capable of change, capable of compassion. He makes you think he cares from the way he looks at you with those eyes that flicker the spark of hope in you. This Loki is the same old Loki.

Well, maybe the one in Sakaar had a good chance of earning your trust. But that’s gone now.

You shift in your seat, elbows now leaning against the edge of the table. “And to answer your question, no. I do not trust you. And I never will.”

Famous last words of the variant turned analyst.

Nobody trusts you either.

Except for the grey-haired analyst with the obsession for jet skis and you never understood why. Maybe, it’s because you’re the only one who is willing to put up with his ramblings.

Mobius eyes you and Loki’s interaction as the two of you seem to fall into the rhythm of making things even more complex than it appears. It's all part of his grand plan. Mobius knows you well enough to know you are possibly enjoying Loki's company no matter how much he irritates you. And Loki, it's clear how he admires you and how you constantly surprise him every time he crosses paths with you.

“What would I ever do without your trust?” the God sneers, each articulation of every word wrapped in mockery paired with dramatically placing his hand to his heart. Your eye twitches, the spitfire of your personality ready to fire back with a probable nasty insult. Yet, Mobius places his hand on your shoulder, while the other outstretched towards Loki as if trying to keep the two of you apart.

“Okay, okay. No need to get all riled up now. We only just had a breakthrough in the case, and I’m not letting you kill each other just yet.”

Your anger seems to immediately wash away, replaced by curiosity. You blink at your colleague. “Breakthrough?”

“Yes, and it was surprisingly Loki’s theory. Now—”

“Why do I smell...sulfur?”

You cut his sentence short as a strong whiff of a reeked scent began to descend upon you, billowing in the air. You inhale deeply, brows furrowing in concentration and confusion. An overpowering scent of a decaying body, faint but strong enough to seem out of the ordinary. The archives never smell rotten, always floor polish. Mobius and Loki share a look. Mobius is the one to speak up, attempting to distract you from your sudden strong sense of smell. “Sulfur? What, like when there’s a demonic manifestation? I mean, we are in the presence of Loki—”

“You went to Pompeii, didn’t you?”

In all of the time he has spent with Mobius who had a constant laid-back and confident nature to him, he has never seen him so red in the face. As the situation unfolds, he wonders why Mobius has made it a point to hide that information with so much eagerness which now has proved to be useless. You’re not only intelligent but also quick—only in terms of the mind rather than your physical capabilities.

You can hardly run, but your brain outshines everyone else he has met in the TVA.

Mobius is now waiting for the imminent chaos and mayhem you’re about to bring. You’re going to call him insane like every other time he has suggested an out-of-the-ordinary idea. Causing a scene is one of your talents. He has his hand on your shoulder again.

“You hate Pompeii, Mobius. Why the hell would bring him—Wait.” Your eyes are wide and blinking. “You went to Pompeii. Alone. I know that from the look on your faces. Which means no reset charge...No Nexus event.” You pause, pursing your lips. Then, you avert your gaze to Loki who watches you curiously. “Are you suggesting the variant is hiding in apocalypses?”

Mobius’ laugh comes off like a puff of air. He pats you on the back like a proud uncle. “Back on the game, Agent!”

Loki is slightly impressed. Only slightly.

“Okay, you two stay here. I’ll go get the files. Great work, you two.” Mobius gestures to the both of you with an outstretched index finger, grin so wide as he scurries off. Mobius loves a good case, especially when there’s a breakthrough. And with you finally familiarizing yourself with working together with Loki, everything is finally starting to look up.

The two of you end up finding each other’s gaze and for the first time, you smile at him. It’s small but genuine.

“You know you could have told me.”

“I would have, but you don’t trust me, remember?”

You hum, raising a brow. “And running away was supposed to gain my trust?”

Loki chuckles, eyes flicking to the table. “I never said anything about gaining your trust.”

Your smile grows wider, and Loki decides how he prefers you like this—relaxed and amused.

He oddly sees his mother in you. It’s the way you look at him. Like you know him.

Right, you have met him. Once.

“What was I like? The one you met at Sakaar.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his sudden question that hasn’t got to do with insinuating you.

“The same as you—barely tolerable,” you say tightly, heaving a sharp exhale. ”Just…a lot sadder.”

You hadn’t mentioned how he willingly helped escape your execution because a part of you still believes it all to be a lie. The TVA has your complete fidelity but ever since the Sakaar incident, your trust in the way the system works has been swayed. After years of being trapped in your mind, the question of whether your capabilities in logic have been damaged due to loneliness still begs. Judge Renslayer believes in your incompetence but you believe she hides a secret about the Time Keepers.

The three beings, creator of the TVA, personally convicted you as innocent, allowing you to maintain your job. Nothing of this makes sense.

Maybe Judge Renslayer lost all her faith in you, her second-best analyst because your Nexus event relates to Loki. The one variant that has been causing havoc to the Sacred Timeline. And this Loki, the one that seems to be very curious about your place in the TVA and the Time Keepers, is no different than the others.

You find yourself feeling an uncalled sense of sadness that dwells in your chest at the thought of leaving the only friendship you secretly wished to have maintained back at Sakaar. Before you let yourself fall into the abyss of melancholic wishful thinking, you swiftly direct the conversation elsewhere.

"I’m sorry Mobius referred to you as the devil,” you say coyly. “You really aren’t.”

Loki, who seems to catch on with the sarcastic tone of your voice, leans farther into his seat. “Really?”

A smirk returns to your face. “You're worse than the devil." He snorts, noticing the vague hint of crimson growing upon your cheeks and how your eyes seem to crinkle a little more than usual.

He finds himself swallowing under your stare, fiddling his fingers in an attempt to calm his sudden erratic heartbeat. A stutter under your now kind gaze—no one ever stares at him with a smile. "You are not the first to say that."

There’s another pause; Loki’s face is set with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest in remembrance of how you’re not the first to have treated him the way you did. He’s dangerous but, there’s no reason for animosity. Yet, it all boils down to the lives he has willingly taken. It doesn’t differentiate him from the rest of the TVA.

Mysterious variant.

The devil is always in the details.

Strangely, the work of the devil may prove to be useful in times of cul-de-sacs as an idea comes to mind. “I think...I think I know where you’re at right now.” Your voice is light, distracted by your now running thoughts. You’re on your feet, chair squeaking as you push it back. Your pen is in your grasp and you wave it in the air, reflecting the gears that turn at high speed within your brain.

Frankly, you’re not making any sense. Loki furrows his brows, slowly standing. “What do you mean? I’m right here—"

“No. The other one. The variant. And it has to do with gum.”

You’re still not making sense and it’s clear that in your eyes, he is invisible. You’re the only one in that frenzied mind of yours.

“What?”

You don’t answer him, feet quickly bringing you down the passageway along the vast rows of shelves that stretch along with the floor’s pristine balcony of white and the two of you are back to playing chase and run. Only this time, the roles are reversed.

Mission Haven Hills: not successful.

Really not successful. Far from successful.

You witnessed the doom of bombing the Sacred Timeline, firsthand. Employees scramble at the controls as you watch the screen that looms over the control room. What was once a single line, running along with time has now grown like a tree with fruits of chaos, caused by Nexus events scattered across time and places.

You wished the dust would settle and this was all simply a dream but you realize this was his plan all along.

Bomb the timeline. Distract the TVA.

There is one thing you know about Loki. He is moved by revenge and resentment.

As if you possess some sort of telepsychic powers, a part of you feels that danger itself is within the vicinity of the TVA. The variant is here, you just know it.

You hope Mobius is okay.

Scurrying down the winding hallways, past the hurried time hunters, and past the time theaters, you find yourself heading towards the golden doors of the Time Keepers’ chambers. In a time of uncertainty, your gut is your only source of guidance.

At the end of the hallway, you see bodies on the ground, nearly lifeless—time hunters, either unarmed or batons missing. You plucked one of the sizzling batons from the ground as you cautiously stepped around the laying bodies. You clutch it tightly to calm the blood rushing to your head, pounding along with your heartbeat as you take on the venture into the foyer of the grand chambers with secrets not wanting to be unveiled.

You round the corner, following the wooden panels for walls laid along the entrance. The glowing end of the baton within your grasp reflects off the black porcelain tiles beneath your careful feet. You hear voices, grunts, and shouting as if in combat.

Then, you see them. Loki in his variant jacket and a woman with locks of blonde and streaks of black. She adorns a headpiece of golden horns—one broken off.

Isn't Loki supposed to be at Haven Hills?

Recognizing the presence of another, the two turn to you, daggers still held to each other's throats. Loki eyes you with wide eyes, a silent plea whether to help or stand down, you’re unsure. Your gaze shifts to the woman once more who watches you with an equal resemblance to the other.

Then, it hits you. You recognize the dark emerald cloak she wears. You know exactly who she is. You just never thought it would be a she.

“You!” Your exclamation is bitter, and it’s directed towards the woman who seems to be strangely expectant of your remark as if she already knows who you are. She is L1190, a Loki variant. The one who slashed you with the TVA’s baton, scaring your left cheek. The one who hauled you through the time door and left you stranded in Sakaar for thousands of years.

You know exactly what she has done. She knows what she has done.

“You did this to me!” you gesture to the scar on your left cheek, eyes fixated solely on her, nearing the two with caution. You’re angry. Very angry. All pent-up rage begging to be set free.

Before Loki could even perceive the current situation he landed in between two women who very much want him dead, you’re already swinging the baton to her face with full force but she blocks it with her sword but slightly staggers in her step. You glare at her. She seems a little surprised. In an instant, you take a step back and go for another strike to her rib, but she blocks you again, sliding away and dodging your hit by a mere second. You growl out of frustration, seething through your teeth, and without hesitation, you strike again. The fight goes on—strike, block, strike, dodge. And with every blow, your intensity escalates, each a little harder than the one before. Loki stands there, watching, speechless and frozen.

You strike again, the baton crackling less than an inch away from her face but she dodges just in time, swinging her sword across your face. It grazes your cheek, now a gash of crimson on top of your scar, and with the sudden blow of searing pain, you lose your balance.

The variant spins into a kick that sweeps your legs out from under, knocking you hard onto the ground. The baton rolls out from your grip. Your hand flies to the gash, trickling with blood.

“Hey!”

The brawl comes to a halt. You seize yourself up from the ground, back and head aching, turning to see Judge Renslayer accompanied by two hunters, batons held up in defense position. You were about to reach for your own that was a stretch away when suddenly, you felt a hand grip you by the collar, hauling you to your knees. Her sword held to your neck.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“Go for it.”

Your eyes are wide in shock, all anger towards the variant now turning into this churning feeling of betrayal that resides within your abdomen. Judge Renslayer doesn’t look at you, focus fixated on the two variants—it’s like you’re not even there.

The three start to charge towards you and you involuntarily shut your eyes. Then, as quick as a rattlesnake, Loki grabs the tempad hung at her waist and sends the three of you falling through the ground.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. Now, with your back landing hard on top of him, all you could think about is wanting to strangle him to death.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

@kashasenpai

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson imagine #loki imagine #loki series #loki spoilers #sylvie #mobius #ravonna renslayer

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apollostears · 3 years

Text

boyfriend | k. bakugo

anime: my hero academia

pairing: katsuki bakugo x black!reader

creator: maya

warning(s): swearing

headcanons on bakugo as your boyfriend. it’s a sfw vrs. there will probably be a standalone nsfw vrs. coming out soon. xx also these were not supposed to be this long💀

* photo not mine*

bakugo was not someone you really associated with.

when you first transferred, you acknowledged his presence and thought he was mighty fine, but then he opened his mouth and you were like 🤨

dealing with him takes a lot of energy and it was not energy you were willing to spend, so you kinda just avoided him.

but as usual, niggas can’t keep they mouth shut, and it wasn’t long until you had ended up on his radar.

it was after a sparring session, your first official one with the class, and that’s when he got to see you in action.

after seeing you fight, mans was hella intrigued by you.

when you first came, bakugo didn’t understand what made you special enough to join the hero course.

and since you didn’t talk to him, he didn’t bother you.

until you made your official debut and he was 🤩😯🤯

that made him want to fight you, to see who was stronger seeing as he officially saw you as a worthy opponent.

so long story short, he quickly found out why it was best to leave you alone.

by no means were you scared of him, but he didn’t know that and when he started fucking with you, all bets were off.

bakugo literally had no idea what he was getting into and he was not prepared for the moment you dished his shit right back to him.

japanese was still a little difficult for you, as you had a tendency to forget some words, but you understood and spoke it well for the most part.

and when you were hype about something, both english and japanese words would be flying out your mouth.

after he, and the rest of the class, experienced your semi-irritated side first hand, bakugo was definitely hooked.

it was like a moth being drawn to a flame, he would not leave you alone.

he would try to be subtle about it, but to you and everyone else who knew him (i.e. izuku and kiri) they knew that he had a crush.

y’all were literally day n’ night. most of the time you would be minding yo business and then here he would come, talking shit.

eventually, that changed and y’all were just talking shit just to talk shit.

atp, everybody either wanted y’all to fight or to fuck.

so how did y’all start talking??

easy. with a little game of spin the bottle: 7 minutes in heaven style.

both you and bakugo were competitive and not one to back down from a challenge.

so when the bottle landed on him, kiri knew exactly what to do to push his friend into confessing his feelings.

he said that bakugo would be too pussy to kiss you.

my god did that work.

after mina also betted against your ability to carry out the task at hand, the two of you went into the closet to prove your classmates wrong.

because you guys are psycho’s, y’all went in there angry af at each other to mask the obvious embarrassment you both were feeling.

“you’re such a fucking dumbass” you cursed, arms crossed and a glare on your face.

bakugo scoffed and mocked your stance. “me? says the one who landed on me, shithead.”

you rolled your eyes. “ain’t nobody told yo bobble headed looking ass to sit there.”

cue bakugo looking shook af because he knows he did not just hear you call him a bobble head.

after that, all bets were off.

“you know what, you got a lot of fucking mouth.”

you smirked, knowing full well he was right and that he just couldn’t handle you. “sure do. what the hell you gonna do about it?”

at the time, neither of you would realize it, but y’all were most definitely horny af.

bakugo, now closer to you and his arms uncrossed, held a devious glint in his eyes.

“let me show you.”

and BOOM! y’all was kissing.

like...KISSING!!

it was a little rough at first, with you in shock and bakugo kissing you like a rabid dog.

but once y’all got that rhythm, y’all GOT that rhythm.

the kiss was aggressive passion. like feelings of bottled up desire lit on fire (bars 🔥)

homie did a little boom boom pow on yo ass with his firecracker hands when he was caressing yo shit and that was a top tier move right there.

y’all were definitely in that closet for more than seven minutes until iida came and broke y’all up.

after that, you guys were somewhat dating.

neither of y’all wanted to admit the feelings you had for one another, so you guys just did relationship shit without the label.

kissing in private was a big one because hormones. sometimes y’all would hold hands or cuddle, but v rarely.

bakugo would always carry your bag during school and he’d also carry your lunch tray. not that you asked but he’s such a manly man that he had to do it for the sake of his ego.

instead of holding hands, you guys would link arms and you would lightly press into him. bakugo highkey liked that shit but wouldn’t tell you.

eventually, you guys escalated to seeing each other at night for longer periods and that turned into you spending the night in his room for the first time.

it was also the first time you guys cuddled frfr and bakugo ate. that. shit. UP!!

but because he’s a shy baby, he began to distance himself from you and that made you hurt ngl.

so, figuring that y’all were ‘done’ you did you and hung out with other people.

one of those people was todoroki. the two of you had a platonic relationship, but a strong bond and when bakugo caught y’all akikik’ing, he ain’t like that shit.

that was the reason why he had asked you out rather aggressively in the common area on a thursday afternoon.

once you guys had officially established your relationship, it was like nothing ever happened. he was still carrying yo shit and kissing you in private, but the vibes were different.

the two of you were more gentle to each other.

more loving.

he was still an asshole and you as well, but in an endearing way. bakugo became more open to loving you and more open to claiming you.

he would mainly call you ‘his girl’ or ‘his person’ (you let him watch GA one time and that was the outcome) when referring to you in person to someone else.

gone with your actual name and in were those nicknames. you’d call him ‘su’ ‘katsu’ ‘suki’ ‘honey’ (if you want something) and ‘baby’

bakugo would crucify you if you called him by his real name and vice versa.

your man is a lowkey spoiler. meaning, he spoils you on the low low and in a very subtle way. you don’t really like people buying you stuff nor are you the type to ask anyone for anything, so bakugo does what he needs to do without your permission.

he doesn’t make a big deal about it, but whenever it’s your time of the month and you feel extra shitty, he dials back on being an asshole a bit. or he’ll use his palms and pop little firecrackers on your stomach/lower back to help with cramps.

if you wearing his clothes helps (even if it actually doesn’t and you just say that just to get them) he’ll let you wear his stuff, no problem. he tried to get them back once when you were done but you almost bit his hand off so that didn’t work.

he hates whiners, but he loves when you whine for him. whether it’s for attention or for cuddles or kisses, he lives for it because period you is the only time he’s gonna see that shit. once you’ve figured out that you can get away with mostly everything if you whine, you start doing it a little more when you’re off your period.

besides being on your cycle and taking care of you, bakugo does little acts of service for you as well.

being black in a country that is predominantly not black, is hard and finding hairdressers is even harder.

somehow, with the help of his mom, bakugo was able to find a hairstylist that would do well when doing your hair and that was one of your favorite surprises from him.

like you deadass shed some tears and he was highkey confused but proud because he’s that nigga.

best believe he goes with you to every appointment just to make sure she don’t fuck shit up with his baby’s hair. he don’t got time to watch you cry and commit a crime.

as we all know, mans can cook. you love his food but he (and class 1-A) is absolutely feral for yours. anytime you cook, whether it’s soul food or any other type that you learned to make, he falls in love all over again.

since you love his food, sometimes he’ll make you some meals or snacks. especially if you’re stressed or sad.

this actually turned into him cooking for you + bakusqaud cause they complained about how he never cooked for them. then it turned into him being one of the cooks for the class when you guys alternate cook days.

he was pissed about it but was a little excited to A) woo his classmates and B) make sure they get the right nutrients to be strong and worthy heroes.

bakugo cares okay...

anyways...dates for y’all are planned out when bakugo takes you out, but if you take him out? he never knows what to expect.

once, y’all went to a zoo but it was a petting zoo and bakugo bought lost his shit when the sheep came up to him for food. you definitely have pictures of him angrily riding one of the adult horses.

and he totally rode the bull to prove a point. he won and you unlocked a brand new fantasy.

y’all are so in sync, it’s fucking insane.

there was one time where someone had said some slick shit to you, bakugo was not around, and somehow this man had popped up hella quick like his spidey seneses was tingling, to put that person in they place.

you were like 😦🤪

another time is when you both do/act similarly. bakugo can be v chill and reserved and sometimes you are the same way. the entire day, y’all move as if you’re one.

and honestly, bakugo loves the idea of you being a female version of him. it makes him so proud to see you act like him.

but don’t get it twisted, mans definitely acts like you too. he’s picked up a lot of terms that you use and he uses them like it’s natural.

not too much and not too little, but just enough that it fits and has the right impact everytime.

now, onto the more softer shit

i don’t see bakugo as being the type to automatically share his deepest, darkest secrets with you. nor is he the type to be openly vulnerable.

you weren’t the type either and two hard-ass people were not going to make a healthy relationship. but....shit changes.

the first time you guys saw each other’s vulnerability was when the attack against the camp happened. y’all were only dating for four months, but had started to form a bond.

you weren’t there when he was taken, having to be forced to stay in the classroom with the others. you were unbelievably worried when it was announced that bakugo was the target of this attack.

you tried not to worry because bakugo can take care of himself, but he shouldn’t have to. and after waiting for what felt like hours, you found out that they had taken him.

you didn’t remember collapsing on the floor and crying your eyes out with kirishima comforting you. every moment up until you and the others had went to rescue him, were a blur.

after you guys had got him back and after all might’s fight with all for one, you broke down again and gave bakugo a bone crushing hug.

“i’m so sorry.” you had whispered, that being the only thing able to come out of your quivering lips.

the others had continued to walk ahead to give you guys some space, but you figured bakugo didn’t want to talk since he didn’t hug you back. just as you had went to remove yourself from him, he had wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace.

“don’t be sorry shithead. okay? don’t be sorry.”

his voice was muffled a bit from his lips being on your shoulded, but you heard him and a short sob escaped your lips at the fact that he was comforting you when you should be comforting him.

but your hug was enough comfort as it allowed the boy to feel safe since getting taken and he had shed a few small tears.

after that, things were different. bakugo wouldn’t tell you, but you knew that things were different. he was more aggressive and driven to be the best, but he moved as if he had a weight on his shoulders.

you didn’t know it then, but it was guilt. guilt because all might lost his powers trying to save him because he wasn’t strong enough to get away. after finding that out, you reprimanded him so hard (lovingly).

he needed to know that he was strong but that what happened with all might had nothing to do with him. and after you all got your provisional licenses, but he didn’t? that’s when he really broke.

it hurt you to see him this upset and you knew then that you would do everything in your power to prevent him from ever feeling like that, again.

you guys really grew closer those two months. at that point, y’all really were inseparable.

okaaa out of the sad shit!

he pushes you at the same amount he pushes himself. bakugo wants you to be successful and he knows that you do as well. your ambition almost the same as his, if not higher.

you guys train together a lot after hours. most of the time kirishima joins in and that leads the rest of bakusqaud to do the same.

anything that you ask him to do, bakugo will do it. mans is so whipped for you!!

you get him to do sheet masks with you every other night. and you’ve got him on a skincare routine that was good at first, but now bad for you. because when you wanna be lazy, bakugo will scold tf outta you before you give him the pouty face. at that point, he’s washing your face for you and wrapping your hair up as you fall asleep in his arms. 🥺

bakugo is definitely on your ass about your hair. especially if he paid for it? oh yeah baby, you keepin that shit in til he sees it getting raggedy. but he actually loves being apart pf your wash day routine.

you didn’t have to teach him, he just observed you and one day, when your arms were getting tired, he casually swooped in with a kiss of his teeth and did your hair.

you absolutely went to sleep and the sight alone caused bakugo’s heart to melt. that was one of the times he knew that he loved you.

speaking of love, there were several times bakugo knew that he loved you but he didn’t say it.

he knew that he loved you when you made him breakfast one morning over the summer, during the time he was working himself in the ground to get his provisional license. the bright smile on your face gave him energy despite being drained. that was one time he knew.

the second time was when you had met his mom. y’all were dating for seven months at the time and you really wanted to meet his parents. so, with a permanent scowl on his face, he took you and it was something.

“oh suki look at you!!! you were such a smiley baby!! why you so grumpy now?!” you cooed, gushing over the baby picture of him at ten months.

bakugo frowned, sitting across from you with his dad on the other side of him. “i’m not grumpy.” he gritted out, looking like a complete grump.

“he wasn’t always this way. katsu used to be a very happy baby. you wanna see him at his second birthday? oh it was so cute!” mitsuki exclaimed, flipping the pages in the book to get to where she needed.

seeing you bond so well with his mom made bakugo feel some type of way. despite their dynamics, he respected his mom and definitely held her in a high regard. that was the second time.

and the third time was on your one year anniversary.

it was something simple seeing as you had started your period that same day and were feeling like absolute shit. you felt so bad for being the reason why you guys had to stay in, but bakugo wouldn’t hear it.

“but suki we could go out and sit on the roof!” you whined while simultaneously curling into him for comfort.

just from that action alone, he knew you wouldn’t have the strength to actually move around just to go on the rooftop. your body was hurting and you felt like you could die, no way were you moving.

“relax princess. no need to get your blood rushing anymore than it already is.” bakugo teased, a knowing smirk on his lips.

with squinted eyes, you pinched the skin on his ribs causing him to flinch away from you. “fuck you katsuki.”

“love you shithead.”

*record scratch, pause* wait what?!

bakugo looked calm af but on the inside, mans was wilding. he deadass couldn’t believe he said that shit. like who tf?

you had a look of surprise and awe on your face. completely taken aback by his abrupt confession that you couldn’t really process it.

but you definitely felt it.

with a smile and kiss on his cheek, you drew even closer to bakugo and nuzzled into his side. “love you more suki.”

yeah...he definitely loved you

*join our taglist:* @sweeneyblue1 @knjkitten @simplyskz-maya

#kmimagines #mayawrites #black!reader #ambw imagines #katsuki bakguo x black!reader #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha katsuki #katsuki bakugo fluff #bnha headcanons #bakugo x black reader #mha #bnha #bnha katsuki #katsuki bakugo

369 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Note

“I immediately regret this decision.” + ThanZag

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 if you liked this!

----------

Thanatos had been anticipating slightly better weather. Looking back, in all honesty, that made him the fool in this situation. He’d lived here long enough to know that the weather here moved only between shades of slate grey and varying amounts of freezing rain. It had always been a running joke when they would come here for summer vacations as children, that their mother had chosen this particular stretch of coast because she despised the sun. That while geese might fly south for the winter, Mother Nyx fled north for the summer and took her babies with her.

So really, Thanatos had no one to blame but himself for the fact that he was standing on the pebbly shoreline, fighting to keep his towel wrapped around him in spite of the wind and shivering in nothing but a pair of shorts.

Well, he could blame Zagreus of course. But he should have known better than to fall for those pleading eyes.

Those eyes were currently shamelessly dialled up as his mermaid lover lounged in the shallows, beckoning to Thanatos, “It’s really not that bad!”

Than frowned at him, “So I’ll maybe only lose my extremities to frostbite rather than a whole limb?”

Zagreus laughed, not even flinching as incoming waves broke over the back of his neck, speckling his hair with drops of diamond. His tail swept lazily through the water, stirring up foam, glowing with its faint red-gold light that seemed inherent to the scales themselves.

“You’re so dramatic,” Zag chuckled, “You used to come swimming with me all the time, in worse weather than this.”

“Yes,” Than took a hesitant step closer to where the waves lost steam and fell apart against the smooth stones, “I was sixteen and an idiot.”

“And now we’re twenty six,” Zag flashed him a smile that showed his sharp canines, “So come on in.”

Thanatos had to admit, the way the setting sun flashed on the water’s surface invitingly, lighting up stripes of it in flaming orange, was making him forget how cold it would be. Zag’s tail looked like one of those stripes came to life. Fluid, effortless life that burned with its own soft ember light and trailing fins like lingering flames. He remembered how it felt wrapped around his waist all those nights when they were younger, it’s supple warmth.

Zag’s smile had grown, curled at one end into something hungry, like he could read Than’s thoughts. They’d known each other long enough that he could probably read them on his face.

He pushed off the bank along the shore with his muscular arms, slipping into the deeper darker waters. With one hand, skin bright white against the almost black sea, he beckoned.

Than exhaled and let his towel fall to the ground, kicking it back. Eyes fixed on Zagreus, he took one step into the surf.

“I immediately regret this decision,” he said after a moment’s pause, “No sex is worth this.”

“Aw come on!” Zag yelped half with incredulity and half with laughter, “You promised!”

Than grimaced. His toes had lost all feeling and it only really burned right where the water met his ankles. Zagreus had been right, it wasn’t too bad. When he’d been a younger man, he’d thrown himself off the end of the little jetty into much colder water with reckless abandon. With this being where they spent their summers, he and his brothers had quite the warped concept of acceptable swimming temperatures. Freezing became cold and cold became mild. Actual mild didn’t exist this far up the northern coast.

He had learned it was easier when there was a very willing lover in the water beckoning him in.

With a deep lungful of air, Than increased his pace, letting the water slip up his legs and foam around him until he felt the rough pebbled surface under his feet fall away. Then he just let himself pitch forward into it, bringing his arms up to make it a passable dive. As the ocean closed over his head, the world fell into total silence. There was a perfect beat, a single moment of complete noiselessness, where everything seemed to freeze in place.

Before his nerves could light up with the pain of the cold, Zag’s arms closed around him and pulled him up. Than gasped in air, hair plastered to his head and dripping salt water into his eyes. The first thing he heard was Zag’s laughter, the first thing he saw was his smile, beaming proudly.

“See?” he grinned, wrapping his tail around Than’s legs to let the inherent heat of it warm him, “I told you. Not that bad.”

“No,” Than’s teeth still chattered and his breath still came in gasps but his lover ran hot, he just pressed closer to him, “Not bad at all.”

Zag grinned, drifting them back a little until the water gentled and came up to his and Than’s shoulders. Than knew he didn’t need to do anything, just cling to Zagreus, and he would stay afloat.

“Isn’t it nice to meet in the middle, like the old days?” he hummed, gills flaring as he spun them in slow, lazy circles, “Back when we had to sneak around?”

Technically they still had to sneak around. There was a reason they only met at night, there was a reason the only human Zag had felt brave enough to approach was one who lived in an isolated seaside cottage over the summer. One who was his own age, a child and still desperate to believe fantasy stories might be real.

But Than appreciated what Zag meant, he meant the only person in the cottage now was himself, that Zag could shift his form and share Than’s bed as many nights as he was able to sneak away from his father’s castle. Than didn’t have to sneak out of the smaller room he shared with his brothers, tiptoe down the stairs avoiding every one that creaked to undress at the edge of the jetty and fall into Zag’s arms. Now they could share breakfast together, make love in every room of the lopsided little cottage, walk the shore together and kiss.

But yes, it was still very fun to meet in the middle.

Zag was kissing him now, interrupting his thoughts, open mouthed and inviting. He was so warm inside, warm enough to compensate for the cold of the ocean he swam in, warm enough to make some of Than’s biological impulses possible when the freezing water should have meant otherwise. His lungs remembered how to take deep breaths, exhaling into Zag’s mouth, hands breaching the surface to cradle his lover in return. For a long time, all they did was taste salt on each other’s lips, the only sound was the gentle rolling of the waves and their shuddering breaths.

“I supposed I’m the one getting fucked?” Zag eventually gasped out, ever the impatient one.

“Well I don’t have any lube in my pockets,” Than murmured, teasingly licking along his jawline, “And no pockets. So yes.”

Zag had no complaints, purring loudly as he shifted, exposing the part of his long body just under where his pale skin turned into blazing coppery scales. Getting to grips with Zag’s genitalia had needed a long few days of exciting and giggly exploration when they were teenagers but the last few months since they’d reunited, it had all come back to Than promptly.

Now he knew just where to stroke to tease Zag’s slit open, exposing the blushed, slick pink inside of him. He felt his lover’s tail tighten around him and heard him whimper and moan as he gave him perhaps a little more preparation than was necessary.

“Than…” Zag keened, after a particularly teasing thrust of one finger into him, “C’mon…”

“What? My fingers are cold,” Than grinned devilishly, finding his feet on the sand below them, planting himself enough that he could pull Zag towards him, starting to press into that slit.

Zag gripped his shoulders tight, his claws would leave little puncture indentations when they were done, his tail holding him close, “Please, Than. Oh gods…”

Than rocked his hips, managing to find a rhythm even while he felt like he was floating, Zag helping with his slightly scary, moreso thrilling strength, fucking himself on Than’s cock as much as Than was fucking him. Moaning rapturously, he rested his forehead on Than’s, jaw slack, wickedly sharp teeth catching on the sunset.

“That’s it,” he groaned, someone finding words when Than could only grunt and gasp, “There you are, that's where you belong, my mate, mine…”

Than groaned through tight clenched jaws, those words enough that he was suddenly, dangerously close. He tried to warn his lover, struggling to gasp it out but Zag just nodded hungrily, thrusting hard as he toppled over the edge.

Thanatos’ head fell back as his orgasm gripped him, turning his muscles to iron as it crashed over him. He would have slipped under the surface if Zag didn’t recover from his own climax quick enough to tighten his grip on him.

“I’ve got you,” Zag panted, grinning crookedly, “I’ve got you…”

“I know,” Than clung to him, his desperation for closeness having nothing to do with the temperature of the water, “My mate.”

Zag’s smile brightened with sheer delight at hearing Than use his own words, nuzzling him close as they lazily drifted back towards the shore. Though they wouldn’t emerge for some time, hesitant to leave each others arms, the place where the differences between them didn’t feel so stark, where one of them didn’t have to change to suit the other.

It really was nice to meet in the middle.

#thanzag #mermaid au #thanatos #zagreus #hades #smut

26 notes · View notes

sunnie-scribbles · 3 years

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i’ll wait | daichi

What do you do when the one you love tells you they need space? How do you cope when they’ve gone? And what do you do if you’re not sure they’ll ever come back?

Pairing: Timeskip!Daichi x female reader

Warnings: Yearning, angst once again

Wc: 1359

Daichi loved you enough to keep his distance, even though all he wanted to do right then was run over and say hello.

He watched as you walked out of the corner store across the street with a small cup of coffee in your hand. Your hair was different now, shorter than it used to be. You were no longer sporting that ratty yellow hoodie you used to wear back in high school. You might be a little taller, but he couldn't be sure.

God, how long has it been since he'd last seen you?

He was sure it’s been years.

Daichi could still recall the night you told him you were going to leave, much too vividly. If he closed his eyes, he could see the stars twinkling faintly above your heads and feel the warm June breeze rustle through his hair. He could picture the balcony in your room, with its rusty old railings and the paint chipping off it. And if he tried really hard, he could feel a whisper of your touch, your left hand enveloped in his right.

Sometimes, even if he didn't try at all, the memory would still come to him. Late at night, before bed. Idle moments in the station while he put on his uniform. On the way home from work. It wasn’t the kind of moment you easily forget.

"All I've ever known is you, Daichi," you'd told him. He thought it was sweet. He pulled you closer by the waist and planted a kiss on your temple. "And you're all I'll ever know," he'd chuckled in reply.

But you just gave him a look. "I'm serious," you said, looking away from his face and fixing your gaze on the stars instead. "It's not bad," you continued. "But I can't help but wonder if there's more."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I love you, Daichi. I've loved you since we were six years old, and you gave me a pebble from the yard outside your building because you thought it looked cool. I loved you all throughout our awkward and embarrassing junior high phases. I loved you through the times I barely got to see you 'cause you were so focused on volleyball in senior high. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I will love you tomorrow," you looked back at him. "And if the greatest thing I'll ever do with my life is love you, then my life wouldn't have been a waste. I would be happy to go on, like this, loving you forever." There were tears in your eyes.

"I love you too," Daichi answered. But as he leaned in to give you another kiss, you pulled away. “I would be happy,” you whisper. “But I don’t know if I’ll be content.”

"I mean... Doesn't it terrify you?" You asked him, eyes on the stars once more. "We're barely nineteen."

Daichi didn't understand. So what if you were kids? Love didn't pick an age. Young as he was, he knew that he loved you for real, knew that he would be happy to spend the rest of his life with you. But Daichi kept silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I need space," you said. There was a tremor in your voice that he had never heard before. You shook your head, a bitter laugh falling from your lips. "I'm not like you. I don't know who I'm supposed to be, or what I'm supposed to do. Daichi, I'm nineteen."

Daichi couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What’s age got anything to do with it?" he asked, slowly taking your hand in his. "You’re you. You are the best person I know. You are smarter than most people we know, but you never make a show of it. You are forgiving, and patient to a fault— I sometimes want to smack people because they take advantage of that.” Daichi smiled faintly. "You’re a weirdo, though. You dip your nuggets in gravy instead of the sauce, and your hands are always cold even though you wear that yellow sweater all the time. You meow back at cats when they meow at you, and you think nobody notices, but I do. And it doesn't matter, because all those things make you, you. You’re a wonderful sister, and a loving daughter, and the best friend —the best girlfriend— anyone can ever ask for. The stuff of prayers, that's who you are."

Daichi swallowed thickly. He could feel the tears brimming. If he blinked, or took his eyes off of you, he was sure they would fall. "As for what you're supposed to do, we can figure that out together," he said. "I'll be right here, right next to you, through all of it."

"Man, I love you," you smiled at Daichi, but your eyes conveyed a different emotion. "But that's the thing. I need to figure out who I am outside of us."

Silence. Daichi takes a breath and leans against the railing. His head was beginning to spin and tears were clouding his vision. He didn’t know what else to say. You mirrored his actions, picking at the peeling paint beneath your fingers. "I just need some space, that's all," you whispered. "Just a few weeks."

But a few weeks turned into a few months and a few months eventually turned into a year. And then, two years. Three years. Four. You both went to university. Daichi took up a degree in social work, and fell in love with the idea of spending his life serving the community. He’d always known he was going to work in civil service— he’d told you that much, even when you were still in high school. But he developed a deeper passion for it during his university years, and he often found himself wanting to share the things he’d been learning about, with you.

But Daichi didn’t even know what you majored in.

It was difficult, especially in the beginning. He would spend weekends passing by places you used to go to together, hoping he’d find you there. Daichi caught himself keeping an eye out for you in the rush hour crowd, in grocery lines, at bus stops, and in cafes. He would meet with Sugawara and Asahi from time to time to catch up, and would always have to fight the urge to ask them if they knew how you were. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to tell you that he loved you, to remind you that he was waiting, and that he’d always be waiting for you.

But love means being patient. Love means allowing the other person enough time, enough space, to maintain their own inward rhythms. In your case, Daichi wanted to let you have the time and space to discover your own rhythm, to learn and discover things just as he did. And when the time was right, he would find you again. Or you would find him. And your rhythms would no longer be out of tune. Waiting was difficult, but it was all he could do.

These were the thoughts that ran through his head, a mile a minute, as he stood frozen across the street, watching you. His heart raced, and he wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and him. Daichi’s breath hitched. Your eyes met his, a look of surprise painted across your features. Your lips formed into a small, sheepish smile.

Daichi smiled back, immediately raising his hand to wave. But just as quickly as his hand shot up, your eyes flickered away. You clutched your coffee and turned away, heading in the opposite direction. Daichi’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. He shoved his hands inside his jacket pockets, and willed himself to go forward.

Daichi loved you enough to keep his distance, even with the ache in his chest and the ringing in his ears. The bittersweet memory of your smile was quickly burning itself on the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure what it meant, or even if it meant anything at all. He wasn’t sure what to do about it. One thing he was sure of, though, was that he loved you enough to wait. Yes, that’s it. He would wait.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #daichi #hq daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi fanfic #daichi x reader #daichi x you #haikyuu angst #grow as we go by ben platt #this song made me feel the Big Sad #and i just had to write sumn #idk my dudes

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nicknellie · 3 years

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@millie-andrews-rose requested: Alex gets put with a bully on a paired project, so Willie goes with him when they work on it to help him stay calm. Willie and the boy bond over skateboarding and Alex gets jealous, causing an argument between them. The boy then apologises to Alex for being so awful. Alex and Willie make up and it ends with their first “I love you”s. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and I absolutely love it. I really hope I’ve done you proud, especially since this was such a great prompt! Thanks!

And It’s Not My Fault

Alex adored projects. He loved having something big to focus on, a goal to work towards, something to keep him preoccupied. Any big time-consuming task was a lot of fun for him whether it was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle or work for school worth a large part of his grade. There was, however, a single word that could be placed before the ‘project’ that would instantly transform it from Alex’s dream to his worst nightmare.

The word wasn’t ‘group’ as it would be for a lot of people. Alex liked group projects almost as much as he liked solo projects. Group projects were what he did with Julie, Luke, and Reggie almost every day, jamming in the studio and working towards having a complete set list in time for an upcoming gig. Group projects were what he occasionally did with Carrie and the girls of Dirty Candi when he would assist them with some choreography. Group projects were even tolerable with people Alex didn’t know well because he knew how they were supposed to work and usually he could convince everyone to do their fair share. So group projects were fine.

The word the ruined any chance of Alex having fun was ‘paired’.

Paired projects were the worst type of project. They always spelled trouble and Alex had never got a decent grade on one in his whole school career. It never felt like his fault, but when he thought about it he was the common denominator in every nightmare paired project scenario, so he had long ago decided that there must be something about paired projects that he was simply doing wrong.

Maybe it was that he wasn’t good one-on-one. Alex had always functioned better in groups (albeit small ones that couldn’t be overwhelming) and being face to face with just one person could be stressful. It was fine if it was a friend, and more than fine if it was his boyfriend, but when alone with a stranger Alex found himself running out of things to say and having nowhere to turn when the awkward silences set in. Or if he didn’t run out of things to say he would eventually say the wrong thing and that would start an entirely new alarm bell ringing in his mind as he panicked about accidentally being offensive. Overall, conversations without his emotional support band could be frustrating at best and somewhat dangerous at worst.

Perhaps it was true that Alex was the link in all these situations, but what he had always failed to consider was the fact that he had never been paired in a project with somebody who was actually willing to try and do well, which perhaps was a more prominent reason he’d never received a decent grade.

Alex had been having a good day. He was feeling bright for no reason in particular – needlessly optimistic days like this were his favourite, even though they usually were followed by needlessly pessimistic days as all those bad feelings caught up with him at once. Still, by now Alex had learnt to clutch that senseless joy while it was there and relish it before it was gone.

The joy was gone by noon.

“Alright, class,” Ms Osbourne said, clapping her hands to gain the class’s attention.

Alex hated his English classes. While he was good at English and rather enjoyed the subject itself, his class was rowdy and unruly and made it difficult to concentrate, while Ms Osbourne was a teacher so strict that if someone so much as thought about breaking a rule she would be able to sniff it out like a dog – but her bark was worse than her bite, and while she would shout an unnatural amount she rarely doled out punishments. The combination made for a lesson that was purely people shouting and no work being done.

The class quieted to a steady hum of chatter which was usually as silent as Ms Osbourne could get it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and continued. “Seeing as the end of the semester is coming up, I’m going to be setting you a project that will be worth forty percent of your grade. Essentially, it’s your final exam on our study of Macbeth.”

Alex perked up a little. He had been assigned projects for a lot of classes, but English projects were always the most enjoyable – they involved a lot of writing, which most people hated, but Alex found therapeutic; the only downside was that the source material was usually dreadfully dull. Still, Alex suddenly found himself looking forward to it.

And then she had to go and ruin it.

“I will tell you your assigned partners at the end of the lesson.”

Alex felt himself deflate and heaved a sigh. It had been too good to be true. Now he was going to be stuck on some boring project with a random student from his awful English class because he had no friends in this lesson and it was going to be horrible. It was all he could do to not let his head fall onto the table and scream in furious defeat.

It was on his mind all lesson. Who he was going to be with, what specific things the project would be on, how he could get out of it. His mind was buzzing with questions, building up energy that released itself by making his leg bounce up and down. Several times he found himself tapping out a rhythm on the table like it was his drumkit, his bouncing leg acting as if it was pounding the bass drum, and he had to force himself to stop and actually pay attention to the lesson.

The end came painfully slowly. The school bell rang and most of the students were up out of their seats immediately, ready to leave.

“Hang on,” Ms Osbourne yelled. “Everyone sit back down! I need to tell you your partners for the upcoming project.”

Alex listened attentively as she reeled off a list of names. Most people let out an annoyed groan when they found out they weren’t with a friend, and there was the occasional excited, “Yay!”

Alex knew he wouldn’t be one of the ones celebrating.

“Alex Mercer,” Ms Osbourne said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her tiny nose. “Your partner is Harry Reynolds.”

“Oh god,” Alex murmured. He felt his stomach squirm just as somebody kicked the back of his chair so hard that he jolted forward and nearly whacked his face on the table. The person laughed a moment later, obnoxiously loud, begging for retaliation – Alex didn’t dare turn around to look at them.

He knew already that it was Harry Reynolds sat behind him who had kicked his chair. His project partner, and possibly the worst person in the class that it could have been. For reasons unknown to Alex, Harry had always had it out for him. In middle school he had pushed Alex down a flight of stairs and he had landed unceremoniously in a trash can – Harry had started calling him Bin Boy and the nickname had stuck for a year afterwards; Harry was the only one who used it anymore though. Since then, Harry had just been a general jerk towards him, and upon hearing that they were going to be partners, Alex’s whole body told him to run.

Run where? Alex thought. This wasn’t a problem he could run from. Besides, Harry could probably run faster.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Bin Boy,” came Harry’s voice from behind. “I’m sure we’ll have loads of fun.”

Ms Osbourne finally finished listing pairs and then announced, “These partners are non-negotiable. I will not indulge any requests to switch for any reason. Life isn’t fair, sometimes we have to work with people we don’t like. Get used to it. Now go on, you’re already late for your next class.”

Alex wasn’t usually one to ignore instructions, but as the rest of the class filed out into the hallway he remained behind. He didn’t know what he was planning to say to Ms Osbourne, but he desperately needed to find a way out of the project, or at least switch partners.

“Go on, Alex,” Ms Osbourne said, “you’re going to be late.”

He swallowed thickly and said, “Miss, I was just wondering about the proj–”

“You’re not swapping partners,” she returned sternly. “I’ve already said this. I won’t make any allowances.”

“But, Miss, I can’t work with him,” Alex protested. She raised her eyebrows and started walking around the room, putting sheets on each table for her next class. Alex followed her as she went. “He hates me! It’s going to be awful.”

“Well, maybe the two of you can use this as a way to bond and get to know each other better, hm?”

“Miss, please,” Alex said, his desperation finally rearing its ugly head in his voice. He could feel his legs shaking and his hands wringing themselves together and his head tingling in a way he couldn’t describe, and finally he broke. “He has it out for me and I don’t even know why! He’s been awful to me ever since we were kids, he tries to pick fights with me, he calls me names. Last year he chased me around the field with a baseball bat for a whole PE lesson! If I have to work with him I’ll just end up panicking – or dead, that’s also a possibility – and the project will go terribly and I’ll fail the class. Please can I just work by myself?”

Ms Osbourne’s expression softened as she look at Alex over her glasses. For a moment, Alex’s hopes were raised just that tiny bit – maybe he had got through to her, maybe she would see sense.

But then her face turned to stone again.

“No,” she spat. “What you can do is figure out with Harry when the two of you are going to work on this project and how you’re going to go about it. And you can get to your next class.” She turned away with a cold air of finality. Alex could have sworn he actually felt chills.

Without a word, Alex heaved his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out of the classroom, crushed and dejected. He stared down at his feet as he walked and tried not to think about what the next few weeks could have in store for him.

Lunch couldn’t have come sooner. After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally made his way down to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. If there was any one thing that was guaranteed to cheer Alex up when he was in a bad mood, it was the good company of his band and his boyfriend.

The rest of the group was already sat at their usual table when Alex arrived in the cafeteria; just seeing them laughing and joking together put the tiniest hint of a smile of his face. He headed over to them, but was stopped in his tracks by somebody stood in front of him – it was Harry Reynolds.

The boy had his arms crossed over his massive chest and was leering down at Alex with an expression of disgust. Alex tried to look past him at his friends, to get their attention, to ask for help, but they hadn’t seen him. Instead, he forced himself to look up into Harry’s brutish face and try not to squirm.

“Partners, huh?” Harry grunted. “I’m failing English so you’ll need to get us a good grade.”

“That’s the plan,” Alex said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t that he was too frightened or intimidated by Harry, it was just the fact that he really didn’t feel like getting chucked in a bin today. One wrong move and he could consider that a real possibility.

“Be at my place on Saturday at one. Bring all your notes – I don’t have any.”

“I can’t do Saturday,” Alex told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have band practise.”

Harry took a step closer. Alex couldn’t move back – his feet were rooted to the spot. “You think I care about your dopey little band practise? You’ll be there. That’s that.”

Alex swallowed, nodded hurriedly, and finally forced himself to take a step back so that he wasn’t chest to chest with Harry. “I’ll be there,” he echoed, still nodding.

Harry snarled, condescendingly patted Alex on the head, and walked off. Alex took a moment to collect himself, to breathe, to remind himself that he was okay and he wasn’t hurt, that Harry hadn’t done anything. He steadied himself and kept walking towards his friends, trying to mask the worry on his face.

Of course, he failed miserably.

The moment Alex sat down in his usual space between Willie and Luke, Willie took his hand, watching him with concern. “Hey,” Willie said gently, “what’s up?”

Julie, Luke, and Reggie immediately stopped their conversation, turning to face Alex and Willie. Alex hated the way they were looking at him, like he’d break if they dropped him, but it wasn’t like he could ask them to stop caring – instead, he looked at each of them, trying and failing to give them a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“Nothing,” Alex said, “nothing, it’s just… just this project for English.”

Luke sighed dramatically. “Has your class got that stupid Shakespeare assignment too? I get it, bro, it’s totally pointless–”

“No,” Alex interrupted quietly. “No, that’s not it. Well, kind of. Yeah, we’ve got the Shakespeare assignment but that’s not… not the problem.”

“What is it?” Willie prompted gently when Alex didn’t continue.

Alex shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

Julie leaned over the table and grasped Alex’s other hand. “Alex, your feelings are not stupid.”

She smiled warmly. Funny things happened when Julie smiled – when she did it to Luke, it wasn’t uncommon for him to literally trip over himself; when she did it to Reggie, it made him smile in return for hours on end; and when she did it to Alex, it gave him such overwhelming confidence that for a moment or two he could truly do anything.

“It’s just that we were assigned partners and I got stuck with Harry Reynolds,” he admitted, clutching Willie and Julie’s hands tighter. “It’s nothing and I shouldn’t be worried but–”

“It’s not nothing,” Willie said. Alex couldn’t quite read his expression – it looked to be something between sympathy and outrage. “That guy is the worst. Did you talk to your teacher about it?”

Alex nodded gravely. “She wouldn’t let me switch.”

“How much did you tell her?” Willie asked.

“What I thought would have been enough,” he replied, shrugging like it was nothing. “But it wasn’t.”

“She should be fired for that,” Reggie interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “I’m just saying – if by ‘enough’ you mean that you told her what a jerk he’s been to you then she should follow that up and treat it like an issue instead of making you work with him.”

What would have been wise words were ruined slightly by the fact that Reggie spoke them around a mouthful of pizza.

“Reggie’s right,” Julie said, “she’s definitely in the wrong here.”

“I know that,” Alex told them, because he did, that much was obvious. “But it’s a little late for that now. I’m stuck with him.”

Willie clutched his hand tighter, threaded their fingers together. Alex leaned to the side, rested his head on Willie’s shoulder. Julie let go of his hand and Willie immediately picked it up – he smiled a little at both of them.

“I know saying it’s all going to be okay won’t help,” Willie whispered to him, “but you’ve got to try and believe that it will. And if it isn’t, I am just one call away. If you need anything – I mean anything – you call me and I will be there. Okay?”

Alex’s tense muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he muttered back. “That’s okay.”

Willie kissed the top of his head and a fraction of Alex’s anxiety lifted. Willie would be there when he needed him no matter what. That was something he could always count on.

Luke hadn’t been happy when Alex had called him early on Saturday morning to tell him he wouldn’t be coming to band practise that day. He had given Alex a half-hour-long earful about how they had a gig coming up in a few days’ time and they needed to be rehearsing like crazy. It hadn’t been pleasant for Alex in the slightest, but at least it had been a welcome distraction from the other thing on his mind, the reason he had had to cancel band practise in the first place.

It was the day he was supposed to go to Harry’s house to work on their project. Alex had hardly slept the night before – he had lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to empty his mind and relax, but sleep just wouldn’t come. At half past two he had crept downstairs and made a batch of brownies using a recipe of his grandmother’s. At the time he’d thought that maybe he could use them to placate Harry once he got to his house, but he’d accidentally ended up stress-eating the entire batch instead.

He felt sick, but couldn’t tell if it was the brownies or the anxiety. Probably an unhealthy mix of both, he decided.

But he had passed the first hurdle and he told himself to be proud of that – he had arrived outside Harry’s house. It was a small bungalow on a road that led nowhere and Alex was struck by how normal it looked. It didn’t look like the sort of place somebody like Harry Reynolds should have lived; Harry was larger than life, tall and brooding, moody and mean – this house looked as if its occupants sold flowers and rescued kittens in their spare time.

Despite the outward appearances of the house, Alex was almost certain that he was in the right place. The front window seemed to show Harry’s bedroom because through it Alex could see innumerable trophies, all for different sporting events; a large stack of magazines (Alex was sure he could already guess what each contained); and a small enclosure that looked to Alex unbearably similar to a tank that might house a snake or a spider or any other creature that Alex would have preferred stayed thousands of miles away from him where it belonged.

He could not make himself walk into the house.

He had been trying for almost fifteen minutes and had walked past the house almost thirty times. He had counted his steps and was somewhere near eight thousand. His mind was racing, shooting through a hundred anxieties before Alex had the chance to dwell on any of them – maybe that was for the best. But it didn’t help the fact that he could not force his legs to walk in the direction of the door.

The worries stopping him weren’t even big ones like ‘What if he tries to hurt me?’ which Alex stressed over every time he interacted with Harry. It was the little things and the impossible things pricking the back of his mind like needles: What if he doesn’t answer the door? What if nobody’s home? What if I’m at the wrong house? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I got the wrong day? What if I got the wrong time? What if he’s not actually my project partner? What if… What if… What if…

What if I call Willie?

Alex blessed his brain for having its first sensible thought that day. He fished his phone out his pocket and called Willie, who picked up after one ring.

“Hey,” Willie said, “what’s up, hotdog?”

“I, um… I’m at Harry’s house. I can’t go inside.”

“Why not?” Willie asked. “Is the door locked? Are they out?”

Alex shook his head although Willie couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think so. It’s just… I… I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Willie asked patiently.

“I can’t go inside,” Alex repeated. With his free hand, he tugged at the strap of his fanny pack, fiddling with the buckle where it lay over his chest. “I can’t go up to the door. I’ve been trying for, like, twenty minutes and every time I try my head starts buzzing and my legs go numb and I’m starting to feel really sick now because I ate an entire batch of brownies meant for at least ten people and I can’t do this–”

“Okay,” Willie interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe, Alex. Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Breathe in for four and out for six. Come on, hotdog, you’ve got this.”

Alex did as he said, taking great shuddering breaths of bitter air and releasing them slowly. Willie kept talking him through it, slowly, softly, kindly, and after about ten minutes Alex felt refreshed. Not necessarily worry-free, but his mind had cleared a little bit.

“Okay,” Willie said. “That was great, well done. Can you give me this guy’s address?”

Alex gave it to him.

“Luckily for you, that’s just down the road from where I am right now,” Willie said, chipper. Alex could hear the smile in his voice and it almost made him smile himself. Almost. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll go inside with you, if that’s what you want?”

Alex breathed a haggard, relieved sigh. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind. Thank you, Willie.”

Willie gave a small chuckle. “Any time, hotdog. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll see you in a minute.”

And he hung up.

Alex waited, still doing his breathing exercises, but didn’t need to wait long. Hardly five minutes later, Willie rolled up (literally – he was on his skateboard) and gave him a bright smile. Alex didn’t hesitate before lurching forward and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Willie,” he whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

Willie’s response was simply to hug him tighter.

Together, hands clasped tightly between them, Willie with his board tucked under his arm, they made their way up to the bungalow’s front door. Alex swallowed, steeled himself, and then firmly knocked on the door. When nobody answered it in the first five seconds, Alex told Willie, “This is a bad idea,” and tried to turn away to leave.

However, Willie just pulled him back and a moment later the door opened. On the threshold of the house was Harry, staring down at Alex and Willie. Something about him wasn’t quite as nightmarish as it was at school, yet at the same time Alex was much more afraid. He held Willie’s hand tighter.

Harry nodded in Willie’s direction. “Who’s this, Bin Boy? You brought your boyfriend?”

“Actually, yeah,” Willie said, speaking for Alex. He was glad – his throat felt thick and he didn’t think he could have summoned up any words if he tried. “I’m Willie. I’ve heard about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”

“Just a few things,” Willie said nonchalantly. “Nothing important. Anyway, I was in the neighbourhood and Alex and I are set to hang out when he’s done here anyway so I thought I’d come along. Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine,” Harry returned with a shrug. Then his eyes landed on something and his entire expression changed. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry look like this before. Could it have been what he thought it was: excitement? “Bro! You skate?”

Willie lifted his board half-heartedly. “This isn’t just for decoration.”

Harry grinned, clapping Willie on the shoulder so hard that his hand dropped from Alex’s. “Dude, that’s sick, I do too. Come on, get inside, man.”

Harry headed back into the house and Willie followed him. Alex took a moment to wonder what the hell that had been, then took a deep breath and hurried after them. When he caught up with Willie he grabbed his hand again. Willie just smiled bemusedly up at him.

Harry led them to his bedroom and beckoned them towards his desk.

“Come look at this,” Harry said. “I had a photo taken with Tony Hawk last year!”

Alex perched himself right on the edge of the bed awkwardly as Willie went over to inspect the framed photo.

“Are you sure that’s Tony Hawk?” Willie asked. “Doesn’t look like him.”

Harry shook his head. “You’ve got to imagine he’s holding a skateboard, then you’ll see it.”

Alex watched Willie squint at the photo for a moment or two longer, then he gasped and, to Alex’s horror, began to smile. “Oh, wait… yeah, kinda. That’s awesome, dude!”

“Yeah! Anyway, how long have you been skating for?”

As Willie answered, Alex zoned out of the conversation. Ordinarily, he loved listening to Willie talk about skating – he lit up whenever he explained a new trick he’d learnt, and seeing him flush with pride after he demonstrated it perfectly to Alex always made him feel giddy – but it just wasn’t the same listening to him chat with Harry Reynolds of all people. Alex didn’t even know who that Tony Hawk guy was and it didn’t seem like anyone was about to bother explaining it to him. He would never have admitted it, but listening to Willie talk to Harry was almost annoying.

He busied himself by looking around the room, getting a glimpse at what the real Harry Reynolds was like. At school, Harry was the classic, early-2000s movie jock, on every sports team the school had to offer, constantly bragging about his luck with girls, and picking on people smaller than him (which, because Harry was built like a tree trunk, was pretty much everyone). His room reflected it too; there were even more trophies than Alex had seen through the window, most for football or, unexpectedly, karate, and the walls were plastered in posters displaying buff men and weirdly specific motivational quotes. Only now did Alex notice the skateboards stuck on the wall and the stack of helmets by his bed, as well as several skating posters directly above them.

He turned back to Willie and Harry just in time to hear Willie laugh. Properly laugh, loud and genuine. Willie only laughed like that with his friends and it hearing it in Harry’s room stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to smile.

Willie waved him off. “Don’t worry, hotdog, just a skating joke.”

Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Pretty freaking funny though.”

“Oh,” Alex said. He tried for a laugh but it was the least genuine noise he had ever made – judging by the look Harry sent him, it had been obvious how fake it was to him too. Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we get on with our work? We’re already running behind schedule.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Bin Boy, we’re having a conversation here. You start if you want, I’ll join you whenever.”

Alex sent a look to Willie, eyes wide and pleading. Willie frowned, looking conflicted, but then shrugged.

Willie and Alex didn’t fight often, but Alex wouldn’t have minded giving Willie a piece of his mind right then and there.

He didn’t though. He sighed, shuffled back on the bed so that he could have more room and lean on the mattress, and he started working on the project. It wasn’t too difficult, just an analysis on the themes of Macbeth, something they had gone over in class a hundred times; still, Alex would have appreciated some help, seeing as this was a paired project and he didn’t exactly want to do the whole thing alone.

But it was fine. He kept telling himself that it was completely and utterly fine. But every so often Willie or Harry would laugh or suddenly shout, and the abrupt noise would startle Alex. The third time that happened he accidentally jogged his highlighter so it zigzagged all over his painstakingly neat paragraph on King James I. He gripped his pen so hard that the plastic almost cracked, and set about writing the whole thing again on a new piece of paper.

Alex didn’t know how long he had been working for, but he did know that it had been a hell of a long time and Harry still hadn’t made any effort to help him. He had copied up all his notes on the supernatural, women, ambition, and the Great Chain of Being, all the while Harry had sat there with Willie, not doing anything.

The strange thing was, Alex found himself more angry at Willie than he was at Harry.

Eventually, he checked the time, his hand aching. It was almost five o’clock, which meant he had been working alone for about four hours solidly. He had done pretty much half of the project in that time and was nearing his breaking point – he thought that if he left now he could catch the tail end of band practise and take his frustration out on his drumkit.

Gathering his notes and all his work, Alex said, “I’m going to head out.”

Willie checked the clock on Harry’s desk and then set about clipping his helmet on. “Yeah, we should get going. This was fun, though, man. It was nice to talk to a fellow skater for once.”

“I hear you, dude,” Harry returned. They fist-bumped and Alex physically cringed. “Catch you later.”

Alex didn’t say goodbye, just saw himself out. He didn’t wait for Willie. He simply walked, trying to get out of the house and as far away as possible in as little time as he could. Alex could hear Willie shouting for him to wait up but he didn’t stop.

He felt Willie grab his hand and pull him to a halt, but pulled his hand from Willie’s grasp.

“What’s up with you?” Willie asked, seeming truly bewildered. “I thought that was alright back there, it was relaxed, not stressful. Are you still feeling anxious?”

Alex didn’t answer his question and instead he said with much more venom than he had intended, “What the hell was that?”

Willie looked taken aback. Alex almost felt bad. Almost.

“What was what?”

“In there!” Alex yelled, pointing in the direction of Harry’s house. “You talking to him like you’re best friends! That guy is a jerk, you know that, Willie, so why were you laughing and joking with him as if he’s the nicest guy in the world?”

Willie didn’t look impressed. “Sorry, I was under the impression you wanted me there. I was talking to him to distract from you. That’s what you wanted, right? You were nervous about going so you wanted my help to take the pressure off you. I was helping you, Alex, because that was what you asked me to do!”

“Not like that,” Alex protested. “You weren’t supposed to bond with him, leave me out completely so that I had to do all the work by myself and listen to you two talk about skateboards and… Toby Eagle, or whoever that guy was!”

“It was Tony Hawk. And it’s not my fault that Harry likes skateboarding,” Willie shot back. “It’s also not my fault that I enjoyed talking to someone who shares that interest for once. You listen and you pretend to know what I’m talking about, but it isn’t the same.”

“It didn’t have to be him!”

“Actually, given the circumstances, it did. And like I said – it got the attention off you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

Alex felt his temper rising with each sentence. He never got this upset at Willie, this was a complete first. Sure, they had argued like any couple would, but he had never felt any real anger towards his boyfriend. It frightened him, and that fright stopped him from seeing any sense, taking a step back, calming himself down.

“I didn’t want you to do it like that,” he said, as if it was obvious. It was obvious to Alex – why wasn’t it obvious to Willie?

“I can’t read your mind, Alex,” Willie shouted, pointing at himself. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head!”

“You should know!”

“I don’t! It could be anything! I don’t think you realise that when it comes to you and your anxiety, I’m pretty much flying as blind as you are. Sure, I’ve done my research and I can handle it, but I never know what’s going to trigger you and set you off like earlier today. I may seem prepared, but I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what you’re going to worry about most. It is not my fault that sometimes I might not handle it in the best way. I’m trying my hardest, Alex.”

“You aren’t the one who has to go through the panic attacks and the constant worry, are you?” Alex seethed.

Willie shrugged. “No, I’m not. But I still worry about you all the time because I don’t know what’s going to set you off.”

“It’s not my fault I have anxiety,” Alex yelled.

“I never said it was! But it’s not my fault either – I dropped everything just to come and help you today and all you’re doing is throwing it right back in my face and arguing with me for helping you out! It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!”

Alex froze. Willie did too. The words were out there, they’d been spoken without hesitation. They hung between the two of them like a toxic cloud, as both of them slowly realised the weight those words had held.

Willie broke the silence, reaching out his hand to Alex, trying to bridge that gap between them that had widened impossibly in the last ten seconds. “Alex, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean t–”

Alex stepped back, out of reach from Willie. Willie flinched and he withdrew his hand, instead crossing his arms and rubbing circles by his elbow with his thumb. It was a nervous tick Alex only ever saw when Willie was really stressed out. Normally he would have tried to soothe him, calm him down, but all he could hear were Willie’s words echoing back and forth through his mind.

It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!

Alex schooled his features to careful neutrality, not betraying any emotion. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he wasn’t feeling much at that moment anyway, just a cold detachment.

“I heard you,” Alex said quietly. He couldn’t look Willie in the eye. “I heard exactly what you said. I know what you meant.”

“Then you’ve got to know that I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know what you meant,” he repeated. “I’m going back to band practise. I don’t think you should come and watch today.”

He shook his head and, turning on his heel, walked away. He didn’t hear Willie’s footsteps following him this time.

Band practise had helped calm Alex down with a mixture of wrestling his drumkit and talking things out with Julie, Luke, and Reggie. They had all seemed utterly shocked that Willie would say anything like that, but Alex wasn’t so surprised. After all, things like this were what he worried about – being left alone, being disliked by the people he cared for most, being a nuisance, being abandoned. Deep down in the pit of his worst anxieties, he had been worried that something like this could have happened.

He just had never thought it would have come from Willie.

While band helped him calm down, it didn’t help cheer him up. He regretted even bringing the argument up in the first place – if he had ignored his feelings (which Julie had bluntly explained to him were jealousy) then he could have avoided the whole argument. Instead of lying in his cold bed, unable to sleep that night, he could have been curled up with Willie on the couch in the studio, warm and cosy because Willie was like a human radiator.

He knew that neither of them had been fair on each other. He could see Willie’s side of the argument once he had calmed down. But he knew that what he had said was equally valid and he couldn’t get past the scorn in Willie’s voice when he’d said those damning words.

He didn’t hear from Willie all throughout Sunday and didn’t make any moves to contact him himself either. If he did, he had no clue where he would have even begun. Perhaps an apology – but where was he supposed to take the conversation from there?

So Sunday was silent.

Alex was slightly dreading school on Monday, but he wasn’t about to ruin his high grades by not showing up, especially this close to the end of the semester. Grudgingly, he headed to school and went straight to his first lesson, which just so happened to be the lesson from Hell: English.

He arrived there before the rest of the class, including Ms Osbourne, which meant he had time to dwell on his thoughts alone. He probably wasn’t going to fail this class – despite Saturday having been a nightmare, he had managed to get a lot of good work done on the project and it would be of a very high quality when he finally got it finished. But he still had more work to do and he knew that he really ought to do it with Harry. Absently, he pondered whether or not to bring Willie next time he needed to go to Harry’s house.

Talk of the devil, Alex thought as the classroom door swung open and none other than Harry himself sauntered in. He looked at Alex sat there alone, the only other person in the room, and grunted, coming to sit beside him.

Alex didn’t have the energy to be scared of Harry Reynolds today.

“I’ve been looking for you, Mercer,” Harry said conversationally.

“Oh, joy,” Alex deadpanned. Harry looked surprised, probably because Alex wasn’t cowering in fear, but he shrugged it off.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. “I just wanted to say that your boyfriend, that Willie guy, he’s really cool. I mean, the way he was talking about skating the other day – I don’t know if you realise it, man, but he has a real shot at going pro.”

“I know,” Alex spat. “He’s my boyfriend, of course I know. Maybe I don’t skate but I still listen to him. And I know him better than you do.”

Harry held up a hand. “Woah, calm down, Bin B– uh. Alex. I’m just trying to say the guy is really cool and you’re really lucky to have him. And also… talking to him the other day, he said– well, you weren’t listening, were you?”

Alex shook his head.

“We did stop talking about skating at some point, you know,” Harry told him. “Willie was telling me how awesome you are and, you know, explaining why he likes you so much. And I guess it made me realise that I’ve kind of been a jerk to you for a long time – I mean, he literally told me so. He told me to stop being such a douchebag to you.”

Alex grunted. “He’s right. You should stop. It sucks.”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to apologise for it, I guess. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. I think it’s just because I was young and dumb and I didn’t realise it was hurting you at first, then it just stuck. I kind of always thought it was friendly too – I didn’t think you minded. I thought it was banter.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex said, meeting his eyes. “It never was. I’m terrified of you, you’ve made my life a misery. Thanks for the apology, but it’s no excuse.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “But I just wanted to explain why. I’m going to try my best to be a better guy from now on. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done in the past, but can you give me a chance to get this right?”

Alex considered. Somehow, Harry seemed completely serious. His expression was slightly pleading and he looked a little awkward and uncomfortable to be asking this of Alex, but it seemed real.

So he nodded.

“Fine. Thank you.”

Harry clapped him on the back. “No worries, dude. And, uh… this might not be my place to ask, but are you okay? You look down.”

Alex shrugged. “I had an argument with Willie after we left your place the other day. I’ve not spoken to him since.”

“Was it my fault?” Harry asked.

“Kinda,” Alex told him, shrugging again. “I just… I didn’t like how friendly you two seemed. After everything you’ve done to me in the past, watching him get along with you like it was nothing made me a little mad.”

“Sorry, bro,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not into him or anything, so you’ve got nothing to worry about there – plus, he’s crazy about you, so even if someone else did like him they’d be out of luck. I just wanted to talk with someone about skating for once, none of my friends are into it.”

“Willie said the same thing,” Alex admitted.

Harry nodded awkwardly. “I don’t have any say in your relationship, but honestly I’m kind of invested in it now and I think you guys should talk it out. I’d hate to think I played some part if you ended up breaking up over this.”

“I don’t want to break up with him,” Alex objected, horrified. The thought of breaking up with Willie, losing him forever, made him feel sick to the stomach.

The rest of the class began filing into the classroom. Harry stood up, shrugged, and then clapped Alex on the shoulder.

“Go talk to him, then.”

Alex, for the first time in his life, took the advice Harry had given him and decided to take that first, absolutely terrifying step towards fixing the break between himself and Willie. If he knew his boyfriend (and he did) then Willie would have gone to the skatepark straight after school, so that was where Alex headed too.

Sure enough, Alex found Willie at the skatepark, sat at the top of the highest ramp. Every now and then, someone on a board would do a trick nail-bitingly close to Willie’s face, but he didn’t flinch even once. He was staring off into the peachy sunset, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Alex climbed up there and sat himself down next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked uneasily.

Willie startled and turned to Alex, caught unawares. “Alex! I thought you–”

Willie didn’t get to finish his sentence because Alex pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing, fierce hug, pouring every last ounce of love and regret into it. He felt Willie hug back with equal force and buried his face into Willie’s long hair. This, he knew, was how it was supposed to be – Alex and Willie, boyfriends who care far too much about each other, not Alex and Willie, boyfriends on the edge of a break-up.

Eventually, Alex withdrew himself and let Willie go mostly, still keeping a tight clutch on his upper arms.

“I am so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry for everything I said and for starting the argument and for everything that happened that day.”

Willie shook his head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I should have realised how talking to Harry like that would have made you feel. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have said such hurtful things to you, and–”

“I get it,” Alex said breezily, “I’m a lot to deal with.”

Desperately, Willie said, “But that’s not what I meant! I can’t explain what I was trying to say, but I wouldn’t change anything about you or our relationship for the world. You mean the everything to me, Alex, and I never want to do something to jeopardise what we have ever again. I’d do anything to take back what I said to you that day.”

Alex pulled him back into the hug, needing to be close to him. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And Harry. But we’ve all apologised now, even him, so we can put this whole thing behind us.”

Willie pulled back, surprised. “He apologised?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “Because of you. He said you were going on about how amazing I am and he realised he’d been a jerk.”

Willie blushed the tiniest bit, and playfully punched Alex’s arm. “Well, you are amazing. You’re more than amazing. You’re a miracle and I’m lucky to have you.”

Smiling, Alex cupped Willie’s cheek and gently pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, slow, and Alex felt like they were glowing, bright and warm and happy. They kissed until every unspoken word had been said, until the last of the orange sunset had ebbed away into night-time blue, until streetlights cast an amber glow across the skatepark, in which they were the only ones left. Alex felt like he was finally at peace, with himself and with Willie.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against Willie’s. “I’m lucky to have you too. I can’t even begin to understand what good luck brought you to me.”

Willie moved back slightly, shuffled further away until he was only holding Alex’s hands, until that was the only point where they touched. Alex missed his warmth.

“Sorry,” Willie giggled, smile bright. “I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes for this.”

“For what?” Alex asked.

Willie’s smile softened. “I love you, Alex. And I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Alex’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever heard those words out loud. Sure, he had felt them in every little action from Willie in all the time they’d been together – he had felt his love in the way he cared for him when he was sick, in the way he bundled himself up in Alex’s hoodies, in the way he played with Alex’s hair, in the way he brought him back from the edge when he was anxious, in the way he devoted every part of himself to Alex.

He had loved Willie in return too, in the little ways – how he listened to Willie talk about skating and watched him practise, how he brushed and braided Willie’s hair to relax them both, how he danced with Willie whenever he wanted because he simply couldn’t say no, how he wrote songs that only Willie would ever hear, how he listened to Willie talk nonsense in his sleep on those nights they slept at the studio together.

But he too had never said the words out loud.

He pulled Willie in for another kiss, brief but burning, and then held his hands again. Willie was right – this was something Alex wanted to look in his eyes for.

“I love you, too, Willie. I’ll never stop.”

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saquashing · 3 years

Text

I Love You So

Wilbur’s heart thundered in his chest, slamming against his ribcage, making it next to impossible for him to focus on what Karl was saying. They were all signed onto the server, huddled around the deep red stage.

He had no qualms about singing, he had done it plenty of times on his own streams, that wasn’t what made him nervous. No, what made him nervous was the man in the other room, logging onto the server himself.

They were so close, yet so far. Wilbur wanted nothing more than to leave his bedroom and wrap him in his arms and watch a movie. But George said it was last minute, that Karl needed some support on his streams, and god Wilbur just wanted George’s friends to like him.

It was stupid, especially since none of their friends knew they were together, except Phil because, of course. They were both private, George especially, and he asked to keep it a secret until they knew they were serious. Wilbur agreed, all he wanted was for George to be happy.

But still, Wilbur found himself interacting with the ‘feral crew’ more and more. It wasn’t that he needed their approval, he didn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought about his relationship, that was between him and George. But what he did know, was that George loved his friends, and he spent most of his time talking to at least one of them. He wanted to be a part of all of George’s life, not just the hidden touches behind closed doors and turned off web-cams.

He appreciated how much George was willing to do for his friends. He never sang, not even in front of him, and yet he was still willing to come onto Karl’s karaoke stream so he wouldn’t have to scramble to find someone else.

The idea of George singing made Wilbur’s stomach pool with warmth and anticipation. He heard the overly high-pitched falsetto, but even that showed his proper control of breath and knowledge of rhythm. Wilbur would do just about anything to hear him sing, genuinely, with all of his heart.

As the stream progressed, Wilbur tried to make George feel as comfortable as possible, trying to build his courage enough for a small duet. What could he say? Wilbur was a theatre nerd at heart. He was the definition of a hopeless romantic or an ‘old soul’. There’s nothing he wanted more than to have a duet with the man he was falling helplessly in love with.

He had already slipped up on Quackity’s stream, so he knew he needed to be careful about how he interacted with him. Pink painted his cheeks as he remembered the “George, my boy,” that had come seemingly out of nowhere, based on a meme he had shown him that morning. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from groaning in embarrassment.

Sitting up straight, Wilbur cleared his throat, waiting for the current song to end before speaking, “I have a proposition,” He licked his lips, inhaling deeply as he tried to rid the uncertainty from his voice, “For George.”

At his name, George’s attention piqued, letting out a soft, “huh?”

That small action was enough to make Wilbur’s stomach explode in a kaleidoscope of butterflies, his lips pulling into a grin against his own volition. He could clearly picture George, slumped in his chair, knees to his chest and half asleep. It was incredibly endearing.

“We’re the only two European left in the call, yeah?” He asked, checking the VC, though he already knew they were, “Well, as a fellow brit, there is one song you won’t be able to say no to.”

He heard the smallest of grunts from George, making Wilbur’s grin increase ten-fold. They both knew where this was going, as Wilbur constantly tortured his boyfriend with the song.

“Are you a fan of The Killers?” Wilbur asked, fondness dripping from his voice like honey. Though he was usually confident, especially in their relationship, Wilbur found his voice cracking and his anxiety pulsing.

George giggled, and the now almost silent VC waited for his response. It had been clear they had been trying to get him to sing all night, but he remained stubborn and resilient.

“I- I don’t know about that,” George replied, his own anxiety remarkably clear in his tone. Wilbur frowned, George wasn’t shy by any means, always willing to reach out. He remembered the day of the vlog when he went up to random people asking for ‘dog content’. But in the quiet VC, he sounded genuinely distraught.

Okay, that was an exaggeration, but he did sound nervous. Wilbur’s smile melted into a frown, concern replacing his excitement. Karl was trying to convince him to sing, but the last thing Wilbur wanted was to make George uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to hear him sing, his boundaries came first.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur interrupted, trying, and failing, to keep the disappointment from clouding the conversation, “You don’t want to sing with me, that’s fine. I don’t want to pressure you.”

They eventually settled on Sapnap joining him and George. Wilbur hoped it made him feel more at ease.

The song progressed, and beneath George’s falsetto, he swore he could hear the slightest bit of effort. He was trying. Wilbur almost died from the overwhelming burst of affection then and there.

Soon, the stream ended, and they bid their goodbyes. Wilbur stood from his chair, grabbing his guitar and getting ready to put it away when his door opened, George stepping inside.

___

George had heard Wilbur’s voice many times before, in the mornings while he cooked, in the shower, hell, he played Your City Gave Me Asthma on repeat while he edited. But there was something about sitting in Wilbur’s apartment, in his hoodie, with his soft voice and giggles echoing through both the hallway and his headset.

It was extraordinary comforting, wrapping him like a blanket and suffocating him with his warmth. Though he wasn’t complaining.

He knew how much Wilbur appreciated the smaller things, the more intimate sides that George tended to not show anyone else. He wanted to sing in front of Wilbur, he really did, but it was like an invisible border in his head, keeping him from doing so. Like when he did, there was no going back, and their relationship would be real.

George wasn’t afraid of commitment, he swore he wasn’t, but he could feel himself growing more attached to Wilbur with each kiss. Quite frankly, he knew he was falling fast, and it terrified him.

If he let go of his boundaries, there was nothing stopping him from giving every little part of himself to Wilbur. It scared him more than anything.

He knew Wilbur would never hurt him, he was far too kind for that, always doing what he felt was best. He brought George food when he was busy editing. After streams he would pull him into his embrace, his head burrowing into the crook of his neck, kissing away all of his troubles and making him feel like he was the most important person in the world.

George swallowed thickly, bracing himself for karaoke. Karl’s original group had some scheduling issues, and he needed last-minute fill-ins, hence his and Wilbur’s appearances. He knew Karl wouldn’t pressure him to sing, he was excellent about respecting his boundaries when he asked, but with Wilbur in the call, the small, prideful part of him wanted to do something that would keep his attention on him.

The songs passed by quickly, each one building anticipation within him that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. That’s when Wilbur called him out, directly, asking him to duet.

He wanted to, man did he want to. But it wasn’t just them, or even just their friends, there were almost 200k people eager to clip it and ship it. He would never live it down.

“I- I don’t know about that,” His breath shuddered as he chewed on his fingernails, an anxious tic he picked up accidentally a few months prior and hadn’t been able to shake. Whenever Wilbur noticed, he always enveloped his hands in his own, before kissing his knuckles. George’s lips pulled into a small smile as he thought about it, his hands settling in his lap.

That small smile died, however, when he heard Wilbur’s very audible disappointment. It rang through George’s head, making its way down his chest and settling in his stomach like acid. He fought the urge to go straight to Wilbur and make it clear that it wasn’t him, and that he was just nervous.

He brought his hand back to his mouth.

The stream ended fairly quickly, it going by in a blur as George was lost in his head, drowning under the weight of his thoughts. The very idea of Wilbur being upset by something he did hurt him far more than he liked to admit. As soon as Karl hosted Sapnap, he shot off a message saying he couldn’t make it and went to Wilbur’s room.

Opening the door, he saw Wilbur leaning down to put his guitar away, raising his eyes when he heard the door open and giving him a warm smile. George inhaled sharply, speaking before he could talk himself out of it.

“Don’t put that away,” He said sharply, sitting on the foot of Wilbur’s bed, his fingertips padding against the soft fabric of his duvet. Wilbur raised an eyebrow, but he picked his guitar back up and sat back in his chair, waiting for George’s next instruction.

“Play the song,” He mumbled, cheeks growing hot. He would hate to see his reflection right then, as he knew that he probably resembled the complexion of a glass of Pinot Noir, “The one you always sing to me when you think I’m asleep.”

Wilbur’s mouth fell open, his own cheeks growing pink as he realized George heard his serenades in the darkness of his room. He cleared his throat, readjusting his hold on the guitar and softly strumming the first few notes.

George coughed slightly, licking his lips and looking at the floor, refusing to make eye contact, “I just need someone in my life to give it structure-” He sang softly, closing his eyes, “To handle all the selfish ways I spend my time without her.”

His voice picked up volume as he sang, and he didn’t miss the way Wilbur gasped as he continued, “-But I love you, so,” He continued, forcing his eyes open and raising them to meet Wilbur's, who seemed breathless.

George swore he could see tears pooling in Wilbur’s warm eyes, and soon he joined him, his voice soft, letting George’s take over.

His own eyes felt hot with unshed tears, his chest felt warm, and he tried to convey with every note just how much he meant the words he was singing, “- I love you, so,” his voice broke slightly as they sang the last line of the chorus. Wilbur let the note die in the air, before standing suddenly, laying his guitar against his desk as he moved closer to George.

Large hands wrapped around George’s head, thumbs rubbing soft circles on his cheeks, wiping away his stray tears. Wilbur was staring down at him like he was the most important thing in his life, like he was the sun and the moon and all the constellations in the night sky.

That’s when he finally leaned in and kissed him, his soft lips pressing against his own, moving together in tandem. The contact left George breathless, his own hands flying to the back of Wilbur’s head, fingertips running through his hair as he pulled him impossibly closer.

When they finally broke away, panting and gasping for breath, George leaned his head against Wilbur’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Wilbur laid gentle kisses on the tops of his head, and for a moment, neither said a word.

Eventually, George looked back up, as nervous as he was, he needed Wilbur to know he was genuine, “I meant it,” he said, referring to the lyrics in the song’s chorus.

Wilbur smiled, running his hands over his back, his eyes shining with adoration George only dreamt of. He didn’t need George to tell him again, he knew.

“I did too.”

#Georgebur #georgenotfound #wilbur soot #songfic #kinda #2065 words #my writing #cross-posted on ao3 #ficlet #not edited #based of karaoke stream #i love you so - the walters

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dongiovannaswife · 3 years

Note

I'd like to request for Jonathan and his female significant other who's a bit sarcastic and teases him a lot, and then some dirty talk but then jonathan decides switches the tables and he goes h a r d, like its that punishment type beat and reader has never seen this side of him 😭

CW: nsfw; minors dni. Unprotected s*x, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, teasing, implied overstimulation, AFAB reader (she/her pronouns used).

Word count: 1340

A soft mewl interrupts the silence in the room as Jonathan’s hips buck under his lover’s hands, trying to seek more of that sweet touch, feel the string of saliva drifting further as she keeps bobbing her head up and down —he can feel the head getting hotter, feel himself drip with each passing second she grips at him.

(Y/n) moans around him and Jonathan’s eyes close harder than before, mouth falling open as he’s on edge, almost there—

Until she’s suddenly nowhere near. Her chuckle makes him open his eyes and look down at her, staring as she kneels in between his legs. Lips curled in a devilish smirk, some of his precum attached to her chin as she does; such an image sends a shiver down his spine, sets him on fire immediately.

“So?” she asks, crawling up on top of him until she straddles his hips, sitting below his cock and leaning on him so she ends up laying down with only the upper part of her body, pressing herself into him so he can feel her. The action tears a grunt from him as he sets his open palms on top of her waist —cheeks burning as he stares down at her, waiting for her to keep talking. “Are you gonna fuck me?”

The switch is instant. Jonathan’s eyes darken, masking the cerulean blue with lust as they seem to turn navy blue. The smug smirk he pulls off sends a shiver down her spine as her smirk turns into one of adoration, melting into his touch.

Jonathan’s voice is like honey when he speaks back, pretending he’s not up to something. “How can I say no when you look like that and do this to me.”

The soft hum that erupts from her throat has his eyes fluttering as she shifts, reaching down to take him and lead him into her heat as she starts to sink into her knees, down, down, —down as Jonathan only watches, sweat dripping already with only the sight and the first seconds of her heat around him, so tight and inviting it has him gasping for air; hands gripping harder with each second.

It’s not until he bottoms out inside of her and she grinds into him that Jonathan’s facade finally breaks down with the low moan she lets pass through her lips.

“Dear,” he calls, his left leaving her hip so he can cup the back of her neck and lean further to steal a kiss from her, “Did you forget what you said?” he smirks as she goes breathless, panting against him as the friction stops. He holds her like that, kissing her lips once more to distract her from the way he shifts, feet into the bed as he flexes his knees, effectively changing the angle. As he finds comfort in his new position, Jonathan’s smirk returns to his lips as he leans over, going for her ear as her breathing comes out in irregular sighs, already eager for him. “You said you wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?”

(Y/n)’s scoff doesn’t take him aback, as he’s more than willing to reply in the same tone. “What, so you’re gonna do it?”

“Dear, you should know it is rude to answer a question with another question.” he places both hands on her hips, grabbing onto the skin tightly just enough to get a firm grip. “I was going to, you know,” he moves her forward, making her grind against him; the pressure into her clit makes her see stars as she closes her eyes tightly, letting out a moan as Jonathan stops, letting her rest against him. “But you’re clearly seeking something more, from my understanding.”

She frowns against his skin, shifting so she can look at him in the eye —and Jonathan watches as she opens her mouth to let out one of her sarcastic comebacks, but he’s had enough of it.

A gentleman as always, he coos at her before her words even come out, gently much to her surprise, judging by the light behind his eyes. “Shh, darling, just listen to me —you’ll get what you want if you do. Get on the bed; face down, ass up.”

She goes breathless, eyes the size of dinner plates as she stares at him —he was never the type of man to use such words, let alone to interrupt her. This was new, but god, did she love it.

“Jojo,” she still mutters, straightening her back —but upon seeing his hair out of place and the way his eyes follow her form every movement, something snaps and she leans in, grinding one last time so she can both steal a kiss and get some of that delicious pressure. Against his lips, sweet like honey but dangerously teasing, she mutters. “I hope you make good of your promise.”

She gets off, rolling on her side and supporting her weight first on her knees and then on her elbows —Jonathan’s shifts by her side, standing from the bed and walking around until he’s right behind her, climbing on the bed as he kneels behind her form.

“Now, darling, don’t get shy, hm? Let me hear you.” he grips at her hips again, though this time just with one hand as he uses the other to guide the head between her folds, pressing it in as he waits for her to get used to him —the same hand he used before now leaving so he can trail his fingertips all along her back, feeling the goosebumps that rise with the path his touch follows as he keeps on, adding a few teasing thrusts until he’s all inside again.

Leaning over her back with a certain care, Jonathan’s breath is hot against her neck when he gets there, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Her response is almost immediate, as she twists her head to the side, meeting his face in the act; Jonathan steals a kiss, mumbling into her lips when he pulls away slightly. “Gonna fuck you, babe. Gonna fuck you so good.”

(Y/n) chuckles, pressing her face into the bed, feeling herself grow needier. “Less talk, more—”

A thrust interrupts her, tearing a high pitched moan as Jonathan straightens his back, grabbing her hips with both hands now as his pace starts. Slow at first, but firm enough to have her grasping at the sheets already.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he asks in between his movements, huffing when she grips at him, moaning into the bed. “Were you sayin’?” his hand circles her hip, trailing down until he finds her clit, rubbing it in slow, firm circles as his hips pick up the pace eventually until the only sounds in the room are moans, groans and the wet slaps of their bodies colliding.

“Jojo,” she moans as he starts to fasten his movements, intending to go as fast as he can while keeping her in a comfortable and pleasant feeling.

He grunts in response, accentuating his grunt with a particular hard thrust that steals the breath from her lungs, making the knot in her stomach reach its peak with a string of moans and shudders.

Jonathan’s hips don’t stop as she cums around him, even though his thrusts have subsided into a slower rhythm he’s still pumping when she comes down —not enough to feel the pleasant afterglow, but enough to be kept in a haze of pleasure.

She whines his name, turning her head enough to look at him through her shoulder, watching the way his smirk gives him a totally different appearance.

“Baby,” he says, stopping and pulling out, chuckling as he maneuvers her over, helping her lay on her back —legs spread open for him, as wide as she can go as he settles between them, watching her blissed out face and, as he traces her cheek with his thumb, his words don’t match his action but elicit a new fire. “I’m not done with you yet —you said fuck, and that was only the beginning.”

#Anonymous #n sfw ish #jonathan joestar #fem reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JJBA Phantom Blood #jjba x reader #JJBA fanfiction #jonathan joestar x reader

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vanderlindemorgans · 3 years

Text

Cross My Heart (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: none really but the reader is a tsundere, and there’s some vague awful knowledge on how horse ranches operate.

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The next two weeks were about as awkward as one would expect them to be. Even without their already tense history with each other, it wouldn’t exactly be a situation that would be any easier to adjust to. For god's sake, he was hiding out in Texas and was wanted for treason against his former organisation. What about that was supposed to be easy for him?

The two of you had largely avoided each other during this time, sometimes even barely seeing each other during the day. For the first couple of days, Jack had spent most of his time upstairs at your insistence, in order to properly let his wounds heal. No matter how much he protested against you, you weren’t having a single second of his nonsense and told him rather firmly that it was for his own good to stay up there. Those were the days where he’d found himself utterly bored out of his brain - there were only so many books that were kept in that little guest bedroom, and even though the thought had crossed his mind a few times he’d already swore to you he wouldn’t go poking through the closets for anything.

When you’d finally deemed him in good enough shape to help around the ranch, then things had gotten better. Or at least, they’d gotten less boring. No matter what a part of his mind instinctually lingered on Statesman, whether that be on how so many years of loyalty to the organisation ended in a crashing blaze or how long he would have before they were able to track him down. He didn’t give himself much time on the run - a few months maximum if he was lucky before they inevitably caught onto him one way or another. Sometimes he wondered what the point of running even was if he believed so thoroughly that Statesman would catch up to him. The only answer he could ever give for himself to that was four simple words: I have to try. It may be a longshot, he may spend the rest of his life evading his former agency at every turn but goddamn he had to at least try to get away from it all. The things he’d done in Cambodia, the threat of death ever looming over him. He’d gotten lucky once escaping with his life, so who’s to say that couldn’t happen again?

Stealing a brief glance over to where you were only metres away from him, cleaning out one of the older horses stalls, he couldn’t help but wonder about you. There was no doubt in his mind that you loathed him for what he did, and rightfully so he had to admit. The few words you had exchanged with each other during this time were terse and brief, and were mainly condensed to matters with looking after the animals or mundane things like asking where the keys were. Even from the start your demeanour hadn’t been remarkably bright, which in a way struck him as odd. You certainly weren’t the same girl he remembered dating years ago. Jack never expected you to be happy at his return into your life but there was something more too - even when you weren’t around him, when you were putting on a happy face for the different guests and customers something was missing still. When Jack had first met you, you were still only in college, and while on the surface you had that same snark that he found himself loving more and more about you with every time you’d spoken, there was also a sense of innocence there. He remembered how your moral code was always focused on doing the right thing, how you wanted to believe that deep down everyone had some good in them. It was something he’d admired about you - even back then he was jaded by the world, having witnessed so much wickedness firsthand both through his position at Statesman and from his own life before that. Some would call you naive for having that much faith in humanity, but he’d found it endlessly endearing.

He wasn’t inclined to say that you no longer believed in doing what’s right - you had taken him in when there was nowhere else to turn. But that brightness in your eyes, the unwavering trust you’d always been willing to give. That was what was gone, extinguished like it was never even there to begin with. He had to wonder if he was largely responsible for this change, if the reason you’d become so passingly apathetic and distrustful was because of his actions. Most likely that was the case, and from what you’d said a couple of weeks back about your parents passing away it was no wonder you were no longer that spunky wide-eyed girl from Texas, that you had become so sullen and moody. A lot had clearly happened in those seven years of silence, and for that he felt truly remorseful for how he’d hurt you.

You hadn’t mentioned that night so far, so a part of Jack felt willing to leave things as is and only focus on being as little of a hassle to you as possible during this time. If you mention the breakup you run the risk of making things worse, he reasoned with himself. As much as he wanted to apologise, explain himself a little bit, he knew that you were never going to believe a word he said. You believed him to be nothing more than a lying son of a bitch who was only interested in the thrill of the chase and not ever after anything truly committed. He could still hear those cutting remarks slip from your lips as if it were only yesterday. “You know what you are? You’re a fucking liar, Jack Daniels. What happened to forever and always? Or did you forget that?”.

“Hey, Jack, there should be a new delivery of fresh hay coming through for the horses in the next couple of minutes. Do me a favour and go greet them for me, will ya?” he heard your voice ring out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. “Sure thing, darlin’” he nodded, setting aside the bag of grain he’d been giving each of the horses and stepping aside over towards the stables entrances, only just missing the hasty look you shot him out the corner of his eye.

___

You didn’t know what had come over you. All morning you had been distracted by him, your eyes wandering over to where he was feeding the horses, running his hand across their manes and giving them a gentle pet. Jack had always been great with animals, something the both of you had in common. Rolling your eyes to yourself, you continued to direct your focus on raking out all manner of gunk and mess from the stalls, somewhat annoyed to even be reminiscing on such long forgotten things. Normally you were level headed and focused but ever since Jack had appeared back in your life out of the blue things had gotten a tad stranger for you. It didn’t surprise you in the least that his presence in your house ignited old memories, coaxing out both the bitter and bright from their place dormant at the back of your mind. The two of you had barely said a word to each other in those two weeks and yet here you were, being plagued by ghosts of the past. You wondered if Jack felt the same way, if he could also feel the awkward tension ripe between you. In your opinion, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice.

It didn’t make sense to you. You’d thought you’d long since moved on from the pain he’d caused you, focusing on maintaining a steady rhythm and pace in your own life and being far too busy with the ranch to even let your thoughts wander to your ex-boyfriend. With him around though, it was bringing everything back, almost as if none of it had ever left in the first place. Safe to say, all of it made you more than a bit agitated

But you couldn’t have just left him out there to fend for himself. No, you weren’t heartless, and taking him in was the right thing to do. You could handle the irritating flashbacks and echoes as long as it meant he was safe and alive. And besides, this was only temporary. He’d no doubt find somewhere else to jet off to in a matter of weeks and leave you to return back to your normal routine. It was odd having someone else in the house anyway, after spending so many years alone. Suddenly you had to be considerate for someone else, integrating them into your own routine, your way of life.

And, truth be told, a small part of you didn’t mind the company one bit. Not that you’d ever say that outloud of course. No, you’d rather kill yourself before admitting to anyone, lest Jack himself, that you actually liked having someone else around. Even if words exchanged were few and far between, there was an element of comfort to having someone stay with you. Though you largely chalked this small feeling up to spending too long in solitude.

Another thing that had taken you by surprise was Jack’s behaviour. You’d fully expected to have to once again deal with his antics, the annoying and frustratingly devilish charm he exuded in every quick witted remark, that smirk of his you’d come to know so well that once upon a time was enough to make you bend to him, and you’d prepared yourself the best you could to combat him back. You were determined to not let him get under your skin and not be taken in by his charm: you knew better now. Strange as it was though, none of that ever ended up coming to pass. In the few interactions you did have with each other a day, Jack was being mostly polite and keeping to himself. Sure, there were a few banter-like comments sprinkled here and there, this was Jack Daniels after all, but they were few and far between. He still hadn’t told you the finer details of what had happened between him and those other agents but it must have been enough to knock him down a few pegs in the ego department judging by his demeanour. That, or he felt the stifling awkwardness between you two and felt it best to dial himself back a bit. Maybe it was a mix of both. You really couldn’t say for sure though.

Shaking your head, you shifted focus back on to the list of tasks you needed to get through that day before the ranch opened for business. It was around seven in the morning, and opening hours were from eight-thirty to six, and it was a Wednesday so business was moderate. You had a couple of kids booked for riding lessons later on as well as some people coming to rent out specific horses for rides, plus a doctor coming to look at one of the pregnant mares for a checkup. Not exactly what you would call a hectic day but still not a walk in the park either. You also had a couple of deliveries coming in that day, speaking of which, you remembered, one was scheduled to arrive in only a few moments.

You shouted out for Jack to go meet with the delivery guy, and you watched him as he sauntered out of the stables in search of the van, your eyes catching a glimpse of that ridiculous oversized belt buckle of his as it glinted in the early morning light. There were some things about that man you just never understood, his affinity for that tacky buckle being one of them.

You turned your attention back to your current task of cleaning out the horses stalls. Years ago when you were a young kid you’d turned up your nose at the idea of having to shove around manure and urine soaked hay twice a day, though years passed and you barely even noticed or cared about the grossness of the stench. Shoving the last bits of hay into a large plastic garbage bag, you turned back over to where the old mare was standing in the corner, looking disinterested as usual and blew on a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “Looks like I’m all done here, Jack should be back with the hay for you in a moment” you mused, to which the animal in question lightly grunted back at you, as if it could understand exactly what you’d just said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know old girl. Just sit tight, ok?” you replied, stepping out of the stall and dragging the gate behind you, clearing the latch click just as Jack walked back in with an armful of hay bales. “I got the guy unloading the rest from his van, this should last ya a little over two weeks” he informed you, eliciting a general nod in his direction as a reply. “Good, that’s what I was hoping for. Just put it over by the door and I’ll sort it out in a bit” you instructed, looking down at your wristwatch for the time. 7:40 am - perfectly on schedule. The rest of your employees would be arriving soon, so tasks would be able to be knocked out faster too.

The low sound of a yawn pulled you from your thoughts as you looked up over to where Jack was stacking the bales of hay, lightly rubbing a hand over his face. “Tired are we, Jack?” you commented, raising your brow slightly at him.

“A little” he admitted. “Forgot to make myself a coffee this mornin’, and truth be told I didn’t get the best sleep last night”.

“Is everything alright up there? I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable” you said, a little bit of sarcasm working its way into your tone. You just couldn’t help it, and in your mind, he well deserved every little lick of ire you could throw his way.

“Everythings perfect, darlin’, I’m just...my mind tends to wander late at night. Things to do with Statesman and such, nothin’ for you to really be concerned about” he dismissed, shifting on his heel towards where the delivery man was bringing in the last of the stock he’d brought over. You didn’t move a single step, instead watching him thank the man and take the supplies off him, a small feeling of sympathy sparking that you quickly shrugged off like it was nothing. People dealt with insomnia all the time, you reasoned. And he said himself that it was nothing to worry about so that was that.

Neither of you said a word for the next couple of minutes, yet some part of the conversation was still at the back of your mind. You didn’t understand why - it was a pretty mundane exchange of words overall however you couldn’t help but still feel you needed to say something more.

“Sometimes I find it hard to sleep too. Usually that’s when I get up and go get a book or something. Anything that works as a distraction to whatever's on my mind” you found yourself saying out of nowhere. You could feel Jack glance over at you but you didn’t meet his gaze, keeping your own eyes trained down on the floor that you were sweeping. “I’ll have to keep that in mind then” you heard him say in response, to which you acknowledged him with a small nod and a slight side glance. In an instant afterwards, you minorly chastised yourself for saying something so stupid and random to him. Great, now you’ve made it even more awkward. You should have just kept your mouth shut. Even still, it was hard to miss that sweet look in Jack’s eyes when he’d replied back, when your eyes had met briefly for that small moment.

___

The loud sound of incessant beeping awoke you from your deep slumber, the noise becoming more and more grating with each second that passed. Mumbling under your breath you reached your hand out from underneath the sheets to flick the alarm off, your eyes only just beginning to adjust to the room around you as the last remnants of your dream melted away into nothing, being replaced by the stark wooden panelling of the walls and the feeling of textured quilt on the edge of your feet. There was barely any light in the room as the sun hadn’t come up yet, and wouldn’t rise for another fifteen minutes or so, leaving your vision time to adjust to the world around you as you rose up in bed and sighed.

Every morning it seemed you told yourself that you needed a vacation, a couple of days off to get away from it all and kick back a little. Sometimes you’d indulge yourself in the thought - taking a plane off to somewhere and not coming back for a couple of weeks. You never actually did it though, not due to a lack of finances but moreso that you didn’t even know what you’d do with yourself with all that time. As much as ranch work dragged on some days, the methodical nature of it kept you grounded and focused. What the hell were you supposed to do without it?

Shuffling off to the edge of the bed, you fumbled around for a pair of socks in your bedside drawer and slipped them onto your feet, your mind starting to wander off to that ever present list of tasks and chores you kept for yourself. The harder you thought on it, the more muddled your brain seemed to get. Leave the to-do list for after you’ve had coffee.

Your body was practically on autopilot as you moved out into the hallway and down the stairs, wanting to hurry to get that invigorating rush that caffeine gave you. The actual taste of the drink you were never totally partial to, truth be told: drinking it had more to do with the fact it woke you up and made you feel less like wanting to die every early morning. No matter how many years passed or long you kept doing this for, you just never became a morning person.

You didn’t notice it at first when you’d reached for two mugs instead of one out of the cupboard, only really caring about attempting to make yourself a coffee as fast as possible that hopefully wasn’t totally shitty in quality. You didn’t notice when you loaded up the espresso machine that you put enough coffee in for two instead of one, or when you put in extra milk in the frother. Really, it only had come to your attention that you’d done any of those things when you suddenly stared back at the kitchen counter and noticed two full mugs of coffee instead of one.

Staring back and forth between the two, you felt your brow crease while you moved your hand up to your neck, lightly rubbing on the back. Huh. Guess I must be really spaced this morning if I made two. As if on cue, you started to hear the sounds of Jack stirring upstairs, and without a second thought you grabbed both mugs in your hand and glided over towards the kitchen table, setting them both down and taking a seat in one of the well worn chairs.

“Hey. I made two by accident. You can have the other one I guess” you announced while watching him transcend down the stairs, gesturing vaguely over towards the other mug. You saw Jack glance up at you, his mussed hair and semi-dazed expression showing that he was probably half asleep still. He hadn’t bothered to dress himself yet, wearing the tight fitting white t-shirt you’d managed to fish out from a back cupboard somewhere and a pair of equally plain pajama pants. He looked...good, somehow, though you weren’t about to say that outloud. You could only imagine the smug self-satisfied smirk that type of remark would garner.

He slowly walked up towards the table and gently scooped up the mug in his hand, running his thumb over the edge lightly. “Accident, huh? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were starting to warm up to me a little” he teased. You rolled your eyes back at him and took another sip of coffee. “Oh, shut up”.

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #Kingsman #Kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #cross my heart

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