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ginnsbaker · 11 months

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (13/22)

Chapter summary: It's your birthday, and it's also the day you're forced to confront your true feelings

Chapter word count: 11k+ | Warnings: Angst, Mild Smut (somno) | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader

Author's note: Since the beginning of Part II is set in autumn season, I chose October 25 as R's birthday. Which makes her a Scorpio. Things will pick up quickly after this. Enjoy :) P.S. I kept playing "Edge of Desire" by John Mayer throughout my editing

AO3 | Masterlist

Next chapter: Fourteen

Thirteen

You��re woken up by a throbbing between your legs, coupled with wet sounds coming from that very place. Glancing downward, you notice the comforter has shifted, your legs are spread as far as they could go with your underwear still caught in your ankles, Wanda’s hair tickling the insides of your thighs as she flicks her tongue up and down against your hardening nub. Her fingers buried knuckle-deep in your cunt, trying to coax an orgasm from you in a very ungodly way at such an ungodly hour.

You had not anticipated waking up like this on your birthday, given how insatiable Wanda was with you last night. Now, as your senses fully return to you, you realize just how close she has already brought you to the edge.

“I want–God, I need your… Wanda, please,” you utter breathily, words rapidly eluding you as Wanda enters you with a third finger.

“What was that baby?” she asks in the same, breathless way.

You mumble a series of incoherent sounds, a blend of low grunts and sharp sighs, which elicit a grin from Wanda as she playfully nips at your hip, leaving a purple bruise in its wake.

“Do you want more?”

You nod frantically, mouth open but no words coming out as you buck your hips, trying to pull Wanda’s fingers deeper inside of you.

“More what?” Wanda taunts, slowing her thrusts to an agonizingly slow pace.

Your only reply comes in the form of a moan.

“Use your words, baby,” she murmurs, eyes locked with yours as her free hand snakes down between her own legs to touch herself. "Come on, you can do it,” she urges, her voice low and sultry, causing a fresh wave of wetness to spill down your opening.

"I... I want your..." you struggle to say, Wanda's relentless stimulation leaving you unable to articulate your desires.

“Mouth? Another finger? My… fist?” You shudder at the last option, eyes squeezing shut at the image of Wanda’s entire hand fitting inside your pussy. There’s nothing but reverie in Wanda’s eyes–even when she has the upperhand, the look she’s giving you is almost simpering.

“Y-Your cock,” you manage to get out through your hedonistic haze, kicking off your panties to open yourself up more for her. “Please, Wands, baby… I want your cock.” A moan escapes Wanda's lips, and before you know it, all the sensations you were feeling come to a halt as she moves away from you to reach for the drawer beside your bed. You take advantage of this time to catch your breath, your fingers clutching the sheets to prevent yourself from toppling over the edge even as Wanda has stopped touching you.

A few more seconds later, Wanda is back hovering over your trembling frame with a flesh-colored strap secured around her hips. She wastes no time to line up her cock against your entrance, dipping in just the head before pulling out grazing it upwards to your aching clit, collecting and spreading your wetness.

"Please..." you sob, a tear sliding down your cheek as you beg her to stop teasing you.

Wanda smirks, clearly enjoying the power she has on you. She starts pushing her cock inside you again, her hands grabbing your ass as she tilts your pelvis upwards. And then, she spreads your thighs further apart, the sheer effort to maintain the stretch increasingly becoming difficult. But the moment Wanda pushes the entire length of her cock into you in one, swift motion, every single thought flies out the window, leaving only an animalistic instinct that has you shamelessly meeting Wanda in every push and pull.

"Fuck, Y/N," Wanda exhales, her breath mingling with yours as she gazes into your heavy-lidded eyes. She gets lost in the dark pools of your irises, the pleasure swirling in them reflecting back at her. The speed of Wanda’s thrusts rapidly increases, and you can hear the slapping of skin as she fucks into you with a vigour of a mad woman.

“I love you,” Wanda professes, the coil in her stomach tightening, the base of the strap hitting her clit in the most delicious way. “I love you so fucking much.”

“L-Love you too…” you whisper back, gasping the words desperately as you chase your own release.

“Are you close?” Wanda asks, fighting off her impending orgasm so you can come together.

You nod furiously before grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her into a sloppy kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and need and want. All it takes is a few more thrusts and you’re both coming, screams muffled by each other’s mouths. Wanda showers your face with gentle kisses as you bask in the afterglow, jogging her hips weakly until the tremors subside. Once she senses that you’ve calmed down, she lifts her hips slightly, biting her lip at the sticky mess on both of your thighs. But before she can withdraw from you, your hands immediately come up to her ass to pull her back in, both of you moaning at the contact.

"Just stay with me," you mumble, nuzzling her cheek with affection. For now, all you want is to be as close to her as possible.

"Happy 26th, my love," Wanda whispers in your ear, sucking your earlobe into her mouth and it’s enough to ignite the fire in your belly once again.

“Were you planning on killing me on my birthday, woman?” you teasingly retort. “That was a top ten… of all time.”

Her laughter fills the air, sending delightful tremors through your sweaty neck where she’s currently seeking refuge. You take this opportunity to roll her onto her back while she’s still inside of you, making Wanda gasp in surprise.

You position yourself astride her hips, beginning to bounce gently on her lap. With a mischievous grin, you ask, "Want to aim for a top five?"

***

"It's Y/N's birthday tomorrow," Wanda tells Calliope, her smile reflecting sheer happiness at her gratitude for the day that you were born. But a desperate sense of longing taints it.

Calliope looks on pensively as she rests her chin on the back of her hand, supporting herself on one side of the armchair. "That must be difficult for you," she says softly. "Birthdays can hold a lot of emotional weight, particularly when there have been significant changes in our lives."

Wanda absentmindedly nods, playing with the ears of the stuffed bear that her therapist recently introduced her to. Wanda fondly calls him Mr. Lemon, attributing the name to its vibrant yellow color.

It won’t be a morning where she’d wake up extra early to prepare you a special breakfast on your special day, which you would ignore in favor of having her first, loving on her, until Wanda would find herself squirming from your touch, too sensitive from your hungry attention–

(And of course, she remembers the one exception–your 26th birthday where she had been the one to wake you up with sex, and she still blushes to this day at the detailed memory of it.)

–then she would tease you, claiming that it feels more like her own birthday, reveling in your endless affection. And you would always respond by saying that this is exactly how you want to celebrate your birthdays–each of them, until the very last one.

As Wanda delves into these wistful recollections, her mind effortlessly paints a vivid portrait of a parallel existence, a life that is now out of reach. She didn’t realize that yearning for the unattainable could be just as painful as revisiting the past.

Calliope listens to her, empathic and attentive. Despite their previous discussion on forgiveness, it’s clear that Wanda continues to struggle with it.

She already suspects Wanda's response before she even asks, "Have you thought about wishing her a happy birthday?"

With a shake of her head and a soft, "No," Wanda confirms her suspicion.

Calliope's intuition was spot-on. "Why haven't you?" she probes.

“I basically ruined her life,” Wanda says matter-of-factly. “I don't want to upset her on her special day by reminding her of my existence and the pain I caused."

And there it is–the profound remorse and guilt that still haunted her. Calliope gently suggests another way to look at things.

"Wanda, I understand your concerns and your desire to protect Y/N’s happiness, but have you thought about the possibility that reaching out on her birthday might bring some closure or healing for both of you?" she says, watching Wanda’s reaction.

"But how can I bring healing when I'm the one who caused the pain?" she questions, letting out a hollow laugh.

“Healing isn't simple, Wanda. It's about facing our mistakes, owning up to them, and showing real regret. By sending a birthday message, you can show her how you've matured and changed. It might not lead to her forgiving you right away or a quick fix, but it can be a big step towards personal development and empathy.”

Wanda considers this for a moment. Things between you have been rather peaceful and ordinary. But the depth of your connection has never gone deeper than the superficial level. It resembles the kind of relationship she has with her doorman or her most loyal customers–polite exchanges, pleasant conversations, but lacking the depth and substance she desires. Not even the topic of Sparky could be considered personal, as she can talk about her dog with just about anyone she encounters on the street. The only relief she finds is in the fact that you no longer recoil at the sight of her or emit heavy sighs that betray your wariness of her.

Other than those things, Wanda has no clue where she stands.

"Would she even want to hear from me?" Wanda questions, her voice wavering. “I mean, we have a lot of great memories from her birthdays. I just don’t want to remind her of the things we lost and unintentionally spoil her day.”

Calliope responds with a soothing smile, but her words reveal a more complex reality. "Only Y/N knows her own feelings, but we should keep in mind that healing and forgiving are very personal journeys.”

She takes a brief pause, letting her words settle before proceeding."If you do decide to reach out, consider doing so from a place of genuine care and understanding. Let Y/N know that you acknowledge the significance of the day and the memories you once shared, without placing expectations or unintentionally burdening her. Ultimately, the choice rests with you, and whatever decision you make, trust that it comes from a place of self-awareness."

“I’ll think about it,” Wanda says quietly, lips lightly pressed together, deep in contemplation.

***

It’s your ex-wife’s dark, green eyes that you see, staring up at you as she pleasures you with her mouth before you’re abruptly sucked into the waking world. Your face burns with the guilt of having dreamed about Wanda, moreso when you find that the sensation in your core is real.

Except the mop of hair between your legs is blonde instead of brown.

Yelena’s eyes are closed tightly in concentration, her pink tongue darting out of her mouth, licking up and down your slit in a languid manner.

“Y-Yelena… what–” Your words die on your throat as her lips closes around your clit and begins sucking on it. You perform your role, moaning at the parts that warrant them.

“Tell me what you need,” Yelena says after some time, pulling back slightly to blow on your engorged nub. You have no idea how long she’s been down there, but you can tell it’s been longer than Yelena had intended when you notice how swollen her lips have gotten and how her chin is dripping with your wetness.

Despite the tell-tale signs that you’re close, you don’t feel anywhere near the precipice of an orgasm.

You can do this. You can squeeze one out just for her. God you want to come, just so no one ends up being embarrassed.

“Put your fingers in me,” you instruct quietly. Yelena follows them right away, pushing her middle and forefinger and then curling them up slightly for good measure. “Yes, just like that. Then just… maybe massage your tongue on my clit, clockwise…”

Yelena blushes at your specific directions, but she pushes down her insecurity, needing to get you off first as soon as possible.

“Faster,” you gasp. Yelena rubs you with the flat of her tongue harder while her fingers piston in and out of you at breakneck pace.

In the end, your orgasm is more like a surrender than a triumph. But in that moment, you feel a surge of gratitude, relieved that you don't have to explain to your girlfriend that you had an inappropriate dream about your ex-wife and that’s why coming was the last thing on your mind this morning.

As you catch your breath, Yelena slowly crawls up to you, resting her cheek on your clothed chest and looking at you with concern.

“Was that okay? I mean, that has always been a fantasy of mine, but it just occurred to me that we didn’t really talk about–”

You caress her lips with the pad of your thumb, interrupting her with a tender gesture.

“You were great,” you assure her, your lips twitching into a slight smile. Your words are genuine. Even if the pleasure hadn't been as intense as usual, you appreciated her early morning efforts to make you feel desired on your birthday. "But I agree. For any future similar experiences, we should definitely talk about it first.”

Yelena whispers an apology, her voice barely holding up against her worry. Her gaze is locked onto yours, seeking forgiveness, even as you reassure her.

Feeling her need for comfort, you gently coax, "Come here," your voice soft as a feather as you tenderly tilt her chin upwards. This enables your lips to find hers in a tender kiss, one that is meant to express your gratitude more than words could. Yelena responds ardently to the kiss, reciprocating the sentiment behind it.

"Happy 30th, baby," Yelena whispers, and as she pulls away, a sense of déjà vu creeps up your spine, the familiarity of her words tugging at your memory.

It’s the most silly thing, but in the rush of daily life, you had somehow forgotten that today is your birthday. You keep this realization to yourself, not wanting to dampen the moment or make Yelena feel any sense of disappointment.

“Thank you,” you say, pressing your forehead against hers. Wrapped in each other's arms, you finally allow yourself to fully relax. “For everything.” you add as an afterthought.

"Don't thank me just yet. Your day is only just beginning," she mumbles, punctuating her words with a wink.

“What do you have in mind?” You shift, wrapping an arm around her so she can nestle into you even more snugly. The room is still dark, with the blinds effectively blocking out any indication of whether the sun is up.

Grinning, Yelena says, "It's a secret," before she buries her face into your chest, seeking more rest.

***

“You can open them now.”

Upon her cue, you open your eyes. In front of you is a jigsaw puzzle neatly framed–a puzzle that sends a wave of nostalgia coursing through you. It's the first puzzle you ever completed with your late father, a cherished memory that you believed was forever lost to time. The surprise leaves you speechless; you couldn't have guessed that this would be the gift your wife had in store for your 27th birthday.

“H-How did you…?” you stammer out. To your knowledge, the puzzle had disappeared long before your high school years, mistakenly donated to a bookstore during a house move when you had to clear out your room.

Wanda’s eyes flicker in excitement as she recounts the story. “I asked your mom where she donated it, and she actually had already forgotten the name of the bookstore. Luckily, she remembers what it looks like, so I just had to look at every bookstore in your previous address on Google Maps, and voila!”

“Just like that?” you ask, your fingers tenderly tracing the puzzle's features through the glass that protects it. Your eyes moisten as you welcome a flood of good memories with your father.

"Well, not exactly," Wanda clarifies, a hint of amusement in her voice. "It made quite a journey, even ended up in another state. It's a long story, but I tracked it down. I was fortunate to not have to spend a lot to get it back from its current owner. It turns out it's a limited edition puzzle. But when I shared your story, they were moved by it and agreed to let it go."

When your father died, your mother was in so much grief that she tried to burn everything that reminded him of her. It was one of the worst fights you’ve had with her, and you managed to only save a couple of family photo albums that you now keep in a storage rental. The fact that Wanda has not only tracked down the puzzle but also painstakingly assembled the 1000 pieces herself in order to frame it leaves you utterly speechless.

You can’t begin to fathom how in love you are with this woman. You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from her, the gift momentarily forgotten.

“What?” Wanda tilts her head at you curiously after you’ve been staring at her for a long time.

“I love you, Wanda.” you say, and you feel how different this proclamation is from the thousands that came before.

A tender smile forms on Wanda’s lips as she responds, “I love you, too.”

You shake your head, feeling a bit silly as you continue, “No, like… I love you–forever.”

Wanda chuckles, and says, "I was kind of hoping you'd say that, considering we're married."

You laugh along with her before your expression turns serious once again. “No. I mean, come what may, I think I will love you always. Like, if you suddenly die tomorrow, I would grieve til the end of time and then some. But I’ll be content having known a love like ours for the rest of my life.”

"That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me, even if it's a little dark," Wanda jokes softly, her heart pounding in secret. "I'll love you until my knees give out and you have to carry me, until every strand of hair on my head turns gray, and then some."

You lean in, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss, and then you brush your nose against hers repeatedly until she starts giggling. In that instant, you realize that if you could, you’d marry her over and over again.

***

Agatha is on the verge of contacting the NYPD when she discovers the stainless shutter partially lifted. She's scheduled to unlock Second Chances today, but evidently, someone else has already taken on the task.

Someone who could potentially be robbing Wanda's cafe at this very moment.

Bracing herself for any potential threats, Agatha cautiously nears the main entrance, striving to minimize any sound she makes. Abruptly, she spots a shadow darting inside, instantly triggering a surge of adrenaline in her system. Acting swiftly, Agatha smacks the shutter with her fist, aiming to startle and warn the trespasser.

To her astonishment, it's Wanda who lets out a terrified scream, brandishing a spatula as if it's a weapon.

"Jesus Christ, Wanda! You scared me!" Agatha blurts out, her hand reflexively clutching her rapidly rising and falling chest. "I thought I was the one opening up today."

Wanda grins sheepishly as she continues with her task, mixing something in the kitchen. "I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep," she confesses with slight unease.

Something clicks in Agatha’s head. She really wouldn’t call it a special talent, but she has a knack for remembering people's birthdays once she learns them.

"Oh. I think I know what day it is," Agatha says, placing her bag on the counter.

"It's Saturday, right?" Wanda replies, trying to act casual.

"Not the day of the week. The date. I believe a certain someone is celebrating their birthday today. You're baking her a cake right now, aren't you?"

Caught in the act, Wanda confesses with a faint smile, "You got me."

"Do you plan to give that to her later?"

Wanda shakes her head, her smile dimming slightly. "I'm making this for everyone here. It's just a little something for everyone to enjoy."

Even though she can no longer celebrate your birthday with you, she's found a sense of comfort in remembering it in her own manner.

"Everyone except Y/N," Agatha mumbles under her breath.

"What did you say?" Wanda asks, catching the tail end of Agatha's whisper.

"Just thinking out loud," Agatha dismisses with a casual wave of her hand. “Need a hand with that?”

***

"Is a blindfold really necessary?" you ask, propped against the car window of Yelena’s rental. Yelena’s hand keeps reaching over to give yours a reassuring squeeze. She had been quite persistent this morning, hurrying you through breakfast and practically shoving you into the shower. Her main objective had been clear: to keep you away from any potential distractions, like getting lost in the endless abyss of social media.

“I don’t want you getting ideas for my surprise.” she says, her tone playful.

Surprises. Truthfully, you could do without any more surprises. After all, a surprising event last year had completely overturned your life.

"Would you at least tell me where we're going?" you question, hoping for a sliver of insight.

“Not a chance.”

"Please, Yelena. We're not breaking any laws, are we?” You’d say anything at this point to coax a response out of her.

The car suddenly jerks to a stop. It might be due to your statement, but having ridden with Yelena before, you know she’s never been the most delicate driver when it comes to the brakes.

Yelena decides to play along, if only to entertain you through the traffic delay. "If I said yes, would you have any ideas where it could be?" she asks, curious to see your reaction.

"Is it some clandestine fight club?"

Bursting out in laughter, Yelena replies, "Good guess, but no."

You have to admit, you feel a tad let down.

"Are we going to a covert assignment of yours? Some of those tend to be on the shady side, right?" you probe further, considering whether your daring girlfriend might have arranged something unorthodox.

"I'd never put you in harm's way," Yelena reassures you.

“You did not just confirm your work is dangerous like Nat’s.”

"No, I didn't," Yelena retorts quickly. "Any other wild guesses?" she proposes, trying to deflect the conversation.

“Come on, just tell me.” you whine.

"No can do," Yelena grins, finally navigating through the traffic bottleneck.

After a short while, the car begins to decelerate. You discern that you've turned into a narrow lane as the car's parking sensor starts to emit intermittent beeps, signifying Yelena is parking.

With a deep breath, you step out of the car, still blindfolded, and trust Yelena to guide you further. The walk isn't too far, and you can hear the sound of your surroundings changing as you move.

"You're not going to pull a horror movie plot on me, right? Kidnapping me only to reveal your sinister plan all along?"

Yelena snorts in response, and you can almost hear the roll of her eyes. “At least not this year.” she retorts, tightening her hold around your waist. Her touch conveys more comfort and reassurance than any words could.

Finally, a door opens, and you step inside. The air is dense with an indistinct ambiance, which your blindfolded eyes cannot interpret. Then, the sound of Natasha's voice reaches you; its flat, disinterested tone unmistakably belongs to her. “You didn’t have to blindfold her, Lena.” Natasha remarks with a bored drawl.

At that, the cloth falls away from your eyes to reveal the friends and family that your girlfriend has gathered for your birthday. The room doesn't erupt into the usual 'surprise!', instead, a warm, if a little disorganized, chorus of "happy birthday" greets you. As they rise from their seats to surround you, you hardly have time to identify everyone present.

Natasha is the first to approach, her arms wrapping around you in a quick hug. "Don't hog all the cake," she teases.

Laughing, you retort, "Three slices aren't too many."

A smirk tugs at her lips as she quips, "Not if you cut the cake into four pieces, you goof."

You shoot her a mock glare, which quickly melts into a smile. "Thanks for being here, Nat."

“It’s my third favorite day.” Natasha reasons fondly, having previously stated that her favorite days are Christmas, Yelena’s birthday and yours–in that particular order. As soon as she steps out of your embrace, another person takes their moment with you.

"Happy birthday, bud," Clint, the owner of this house in Staten Island, envelops you in a tight hug, his biceps squeezing your shoulders a bit too firmly. Despite him being primarily Natasha's friend, the two of you have shared enough meaningful conversations for you to regard him as a friend of your own.

"Great to see you, Clint. Thanks," you respond as you return his hug.

The real surprise, however, comes from seeing Scott as part of Yelena's plan. "Hey there, rockstar!" he greets you with a high-five instead of the usual hug, adding to the sense of novelty in the celebration.

“Scott!” You can't help but exclaim, pulling him into a spontaneous hug. He seems surprised at first, but then his arm circles around you in response, returning the unexpected show of affection.

"I heard you're doing really well at Stark Industries," he says proudly. "I always knew you had it in you."

"Wait, how did you know about that?" you question.

"They called me for a recommendation," he reveals with a smile.

The news that Scott played a role in securing your job prompts you to lunge back at him for another quick hug. “Finally, we can now start drinking!” he exclaims with a jovial pat on your back before making a beeline for the fridge to grab a cold beer.

The final guest to approach you is none other than your own mother. You sneak a glance at Yelena, her grin wide as she watches your surprised expression.

"Forgot to tell me about your new sweetheart, did you?" your mother gently teases, diverting her gaze from you to Yelena. "She's absolutely stunning and delightful. Happy birthday, my darling!"

Even though you’re not sure what to make of it, hearing your mother subtly hint at you that she likes Yelena gives you a sense of relief. But at the same time, it also makes you wonder what Yelena has that she never found in Wanda; how she went ahead and warmed up instantly to a month-old flame, but never to the woman who had been an integral part of your life for over a decade.

"Thanks, mom," you murmur, allowing her to plant kisses on both of your cheeks. She then mentions a pie she's working on in the kitchen before leaving you alone with Yelena. The rest of the group disperses, busying themselves with the dinner plans, except Scott, who contentedly sips his beer while puffing on a joint.

"How on earth did you manage to bring all these folks together?" you wonder, leading Yelena by the hand into a quieter bedroom. Yelena responds by draping her arms over your shoulders, as your hands find their place on her hips. This would probably be the moment you two will have alone for the next several hours, and she intends to savor each second of it.

Looking up at you through her dark, enticing lashes, she jests, “Ever heard of ‘preparation’? You might want to give it a go.” Her playful words are swiftly followed by her leaning in to steal a passionate kiss from you. For a brief spell, you just hold each other, appreciating the dear friends who've taken out time to celebrate your special day.

"Thank you," you whisper, planting a tender kiss on her nose.

"So, what do you make of all this? Your friends, your mom–all of them gathered here?" she asks.

Your answer comes in the form of a heavy sigh.

A medley of personalities under a single roof? It’s going to be a long day.

Dinner is served promptly at five in the afternoon, filling the air with the delightful aroma of home-cooked meals. The dining table is adorned with an array of dishes, a feast fit for a special occasion. The tantalizing scent of smoky barbecue, succulent steaks, and freshly caught lobsters wafts through the room, whetting everyone's appetite.

Seated around the table, sharing stories and laughter are the people who mean the most to you, even as you’d occasionally stare blankly at an empty chair, trying not to imagine a specific person sitting on it.

And then, when you least expect it, Natasha raises her glass, a sly smile on her lips. "To our incredibly lucky friend, who managed to survive another year without getting themselves into too much trouble. Happy birthday, I guess."

The room erupts in a languorous laughter, glasses clinking together as everyone joins in the toast, and then Scott, already nursing a buzz since around the time you arrived, suggests that your girlfriend give you a toast as well. Both you and Yelena blush at that, and then your mother claps eagerly, prompting Yelena to stand up, your steady gaze the only thing that’s tethering her as she prepares to give her message.

“Fate has a funny way of bringing people back together," Yelena starts her speech, a bit nervous addressing you with everyone, including your mother, watching. “Especially when you thought you’ve lost your chance with someone for good. Years ago, life took us down different roads, and we went our separate ways before college. We only reconnected last year, and I could have never guessed then where we would be now."

"Today, on this most special day, I raise my toast to second chances,” Yelena proclaims, her voice growing steadier with each word. “To the persistence of love that withstands the passage of time, the might of forgiveness, and the firm belief that two hearts meant to be together will always find their way back to each other.”

Tears prickle at the back of your eyes, threatening to fall. Second chances. Those words seem to hold so much more meaning now. They encapsulate both an idea and a reality–a reality crafted by the person pleading for this chance the most. In that moment, you realize that second chances are not merely given—they are earned, fought for, and nurtured. They require courage, vulnerability, and a willingness to embrace the unknown. It's a tender interplay between the echoes of the past and the whispers of tomorrow, a nuanced shift between clutching the remnants of what once was and boldly striding towards what could be.

"To Y/N, the one who holds my heart, thank you for coming back into my life and giving us this opportunity to be together again." Yelena concludes. As the clapping dies down, she strides towards you, her hand tenderly caressing your cheek. “Happy birthday,” she whispers.

You mouth the words, "Thank you," the syllables forming on your lips with an almost reverent hush. She gives you a blinding smile, opting to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, aware of her sister's presence and feeling a touch self-conscious to kiss you where she really wants to.

With the conversations shifting to lighter subjects and laughter filling the air, Clint's voice cuts through the lively chatter to share something with the group. His statement catches everyone's attention, and they turn their focus to him.

"You guys know I own a small practice in Brooklyn, right?"

Everybody nods except for your mother, who is meeting these people for the first time, with the exception of Natasha.

Caught in his reverie, Clint pushes on. "I believe I've bumped into Wanda a few times in the same building," he reflects. "Although, I don't think she has noticed me." Suddenly, he seems to recall the sensitive nature of the topic, his gaze flitting over to you and then Yelena, perhaps prompted by the pointed glare Natasha sends his way. He adds hastily, "No hard feelings about mentioning her, right? Just an observation, that's all."

Yelena locks eyes with you, as if letting be the judge of that. "It's okay," you tell Clint before taking a generous sip of your wine.

With your permission, he presses for more information. “I've seen her going to Dr. Calliope William's clinic,” he reveals. “The doc is a renowned psychiatrist and therapist who used to specialize in treating celebrities with substance abuse issues. But she's been relatively low-profile lately.”

“So, Wanda is her patient?” Natasha asks for confirmation.

“That’s right, although I never took Wanda for an addict.” comes Clint’s reply.

Though it’s the first time you’re hearing this, you're quick to dispel any misconceptions about your ex-wife. "She's not an addict," you state unequivocally.

Scott steps in. “Well, you haven't been in contact with her for a while. She could've slipped into that lifestyle without you knowing.”

Yelena clears her throat and then smiles wryly and says, “Actually, Y/N, has seen her recently.”

Natasha’s question slices through the atmosphere, sharp and demanding. “How recently?”

“Last week,” you admit. “And the week before that.”

Upon hearing your admission, Natasha noticeably squirms in her chair, avoiding meeting anyone's gaze. "I need some air," she mutters, quickly excusing herself as she dashes outside.

Noting Natasha's distressed reaction to your revelation, you rise from your seat, gesturing for Yelena to stay put, as you follow after Natasha.

This isn't exactly how you envisioned your birthday unfolding–then again, when you woke up this morning, you hadn't even remembered it was your birthday in the first place.

Stepping out into the brisk evening air, a shudder ripples through you. Natasha stands by the bonfire, her arms hugging her torso, the fire's enchanting light casting deep shadows on her tensed features.

“You haven't been entirely truthful with me, have you?” she asks, her gaze set on the flickering flames which paint the night in warm hues.

"Nat–"

“You could've told me when I came by your office. But instead, I have to hear it now, from my own sister of all people,” she articulates, her voice steady yet laced with sorrow. “And she seems fine with it, which I find hard to comprehend.”

“What are you insinuating?” you ask, annoyance seeping into your voice as you rake a hand through your hair. “I'm not doing anything that could hurt her. I have been straightforward with her from the onset–”

"If you genuinely believe you're not doing anything wrong, then you would've told me that you're still in touch with Wanda.” Natasha reasons, her gaze piercing as she drives home her point.

You open your mouth hotly, prepared to defend yourself, but Natasha raises a hand to cut you off before you can even begin.

"Because I can't think of any other reason why you would keep it from me–your best friend," Natasha declares.

“Natasha, I–” you really don’t know how to end this sentence, mostly because you’re not ready to admit that Natasha’s right. Natasha has always had an uncanny ability to see through your facades, to understand you even when you don't fully understand yourself.

In the end, you decide to lay it all out, starting from the beginning. You recount the moment when Wanda unexpectedly appeared at your apartment, only to be met by Yelena. You explain how you received a call from Vision, asking for your help to bring Wanda home. You tell her about Sparky’s delicate condition, the sole reason why Wanda sought you out. You explain your desire to have a civil relationship with Wanda, free from resentment, and your intention to move forward without completely cutting her out of your life.

Yet, Natasha just sneers at the last bit.

"Look, I get that you still have difficulty saying no to people and upsetting them because you’re such a fucking pushover sometimes," Natasha begins, her harsh tone making you wince. "But I know you better than anyone, and I can see that you still have feelings for her."

You attempt to cut in, but Natasha doesn't let up. "No, let me finish," she insists. "I've seen you go through this before. You're always trying to find a way to keep people in your life, even when it's not healthy for you or for them."

Her words hit you hard, and despite the obvious discomfort and hurt look on your face, Natasha continues, her tone compassionate yet insistent, "Sometimes, in order to truly move on and find happiness, you need to cut off certain people from your life. It's not easy, and it may hurt in the short term, but it's necessary for your own well-being and for the sake of your current relationship."

A lump forms in your gut as Natasha's words sink in. Deep down, you know she may have a point, yet accepting it feels like a difficult pill to swallow. You value her opinion and know that she only wants the best for you, even if it's hard to hear.

"I understand that it's not an easy decision to make," Natasha adds, her tone softening. "But I don't want to see you hurt Yelena or yourself in the process. You deserve a fresh start. You can’t be living in the present with one foot in the past."

“The world isn’t black or white, Nat. You seriously can’t mean that the only way I can move on is to hurt someone’s feelings.”

"I know you have a big heart, and that's one of the things I love about you," she says earnestly. “But if you hurt my sister because of Wanda, I can’t promise you that this won’t come between us.”

Once again, your mouth opens to say something, but the words continue to elude you.

“I know that’s a lot to take in and I should go. I really do wish you a happy birthday.” Following that, Natasha heads back inside only to say goodbye to everyone.

Your mother finds you in one of the bedrooms, gazing out the window while Yelena and Clint busy themselves clearing the table and washing the dishes after dinner. Meanwhile, Scott has already dozed off in the living room, clearly done for the night.

“You have the same look you had at your dad's funeral,” she says to you, as she steps in and gently closes the door behind her.

You offer a weak smile at your mother’s lack of filter.

“Thank you for being here, mom,” you say, your steps laden as you approach your mother, who stands uncertainly next to a petite, pink children's wardrobe. It's only then that you recognize you've strayed into one of Clint's daughter's rooms. There's an undeniable innocence to the space, a sense of tranquility that pulls you back to a time when life was simpler, and your family hadn't been burdened by impacts of your father's passing and the subtle strain it has put on your relationship with your mother over the years.

You envelop her in a hug. She feels so tiny and fragile in your arms, so different from the woman whose anger you used to cower from, whose opinion always intimidated you as a teenager–who used to carry you home when you’ve exhausted yourself in the playground near where you grew up.

Life seems like a long, winding road when you look at it from a child's perspective. And sometimes it stays that way even as an adult, with various distractions vying for your attention. But in reality, while there are still many years left in you, you may very well be nearing the end of your time with some of the most important people in your life. Your mother, at 60 years old, stands before you. Taking into account the current average human lifespan, she probably has about 30 summers left–and among those remaining summers, it's uncertain which ones you'll be fortunate enough to fully share with her. Even if it's just a single day per summer, that amounts to a mere 30 precious days left with her. You're approaching the endgame.

In your mind, you can't appreciate Yelena enough for involving your mother in this intimate gathering.

"She's quite determined, that girl," your mother exhales on your shoulder. "I can see that she's good for you."

"She is," you respond with a faint smile.

"But why does it seem like it's not enough?"

“What do you mean? It’s been a long day. Nat and I got into a heated argument–”

“This doesn't seem like Natasha's doing at all, dear. Every time I've seen you appear as though the world is closing in on you, it's always been because of her.”

Wanda.

Taken aback, you retreat, needing room to digest her words. Your jaw tightens as you counter, "That's a very unfair assumption you're making."

Your mother gently suggests, "It's merely an observation–"

“You don’t get to tell me what I feel–not when you never gave Wanda the chance you’re giving to Yelena now. Don’t pretend now that you knew anything about how important Wanda is–was to me.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think–”

"Of course it matters!" The words exploding from your mouth would likely echo downstairs, if not for the loud music that Clint turned on to mask Scott’s snores.

“It has always mattered to me,” you continue, quietly now. “It mattered to me that the two people I love most in the world loved each other.” Your voice fades into a hushed tone, and the silence lingers, broken only by the sound of your breathing.

“I... I did love Wanda. How could I not? She brought so much happiness into your life. I just couldn't bring myself to like her," she says, defeatedly. Slowly, she makes her way to the window, standing in the very spot where you had previously stood. The view outside is truly enchanting—a moonlit scene painted in shades of blue, casting ethereal shadows that seem to belong only in fairytales.

If only life were as simple as a fairytale, where everyone could find their happy ending. Perhaps then, on your birthday, all your wishes would have a chance to come true.

“Why?” you ask.

Your mother looks over her shoulder with a questioning look.

"Why don't you like Wanda?" you press.

"You might think I'm being irrational," she warns.

“Try me.” you challenge, eager to hear whatever her reasons are.

With a sigh, she relents. "Well, I guess I've struggled with the notion that Wanda has provided all the love and support you need, leaving no space for me anymore. And for a while, it seemed that way."

“Mom–”

“It’s true, honey,” she continues. “When your father passed away… being left alone to raise a child was a burden. Your father had always been better than me. He knew how to communicate with you–basically everything there is about being a good parent. So, I relied heavily on him. But when he was gone, I felt utterly lost... I saw you as this enormous responsibility that he left in my care, and that's why, as you've noticed while growing up, I was often a bit angry.”

She pauses, shrinking away, letting the silence creep back in as she gathers her thoughts.

“You needed me all along. Just like you sought out your father, you looked for him in me, as if hoping to find a part of him that lives on. And surprisingly, instead of feeling burdened, it became my source of comfort. I became dependent on your dependence on me. I found joy in being needed and believed I could provide everything necessary for your happiness. Your happiness was your father’s priority. I definitely took a backseat when you were born. But then I learned why–because you’re the most wonderful thing to ever happen to us.

“And then Wanda came along, like a beacon.” she says. Wanda entered the picture long before your mother got to meet her. She effortlessly dominated your conversations, each call becoming an ode to her presence. Your decisions and availability always revolved around Wanda.

Your mother saw the danger in that because it meant that Wanda, while being the key to your happiness, was also your greatest undoing.

“I never abandoned you, mom.” you say, a soft, sad declaration.

"I know, sweetheart. My reservations about Wanda had nothing to do with you or your actions. It was the fear that if she ever broke your heart, it would change you in ways I couldn't bear to see. And now, I witness that change unfolding before my eyes. As your mother, it pains me to see my daughter living a half-life."

“I'm not... it's not what you think..." you try to protest, but your voice falters; something wet hits your hands on your lap, and it dawns on you that you've started crying.

“You’re not living. You’re surviving,” she softly reiterates. “You may not want to admit it right now, but as your mother, I want you to know that I see you. You never have to hide from me because I will always look at you with love and understanding, never with judgment."

“I don't know what to do," you whisper, covering your face with your hands, your fingers scratching at your scalp in frustration. You feel your mother settle beside you, her arm wrapping around your shoulders, offering a comforting presence.

"Because you love Yelena too?" she asks tentatively.

You nod. “I really do.”

***

In the afternoon, Second Chances radiates a serene atmosphere, bathed in the glowing, honey-hued light of the setting sun filtering through its windows. A scant number of patrons fill the snug interior, sipping their drinks in solitude, lost in their own personal spheres. Wanda is nestled at a corner table, with a piece of cake served on a dainty plate before her. It's the final slice of the birthday cake she had lovingly prepared for you, and she delights in each mouthful, luxuriating in the sweet caramel's contrast with the dark chocolate's bitterness.

As Wanda savors her final bite, Agatha approaches, her fingers already retrieving a pack of cigarettes from her sweater. "Hey, Wanda," she murmurs, gesturing towards the exit. "Fancy a smoke break? The crisp fall air might do us some good."

"I'd prefer a walk, actually. I quit smoking a while ago," Wanda proposes, already on her feet, carrying her plate and fork to the kitchen. With a nod of understanding, Agatha waits patiently by the entrance.

There’s only a few more hours before your birthday comes to an end. She clings to her phone, fingers hovering over the screen, drafting and redrafting messages that remain unsent. Time is slipping through her fingers, and uncertainty clouds her mind. Will you be available to read her words? Will she have the courage to press send?

Yet, the fear of rejection and the unknown continues to hold her back.

"How are you holding up?" Agatha's voice pierces the silence, yanking Wanda back to the present.

"Okay, I guess," Wanda responds, her hands and phone disappearing into her pockets for warmth.

"You can be yourself around me, you know? I'm no longer your boss," Agatha assures, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "In fact, the roles have reversed now, haven't they?"

Wanda closes her eyes, her face tilting skyward, as she lets out a quiet sigh, "I miss her. I miss us."

Agatha nods in understanding. Throughout the day, she's watched Wanda's forced cheerfulness, a thinly veiled attempt to hide her longing for something—someone—gone. Often, she'd see Wanda gazing at nothing in particular, her body present, but her soul evidently elsewhere.

She attempts to find words of comfort, but realizes that a shot of tequila would likely do a better job of it.

“Have you wished her a happy birthday yet?” Agatha gently asks.

"I've been trying to, but I can't seem to find the right words," Wanda admits.

“How about just ‘happy birthday’?”

A soft laugh escapes Wanda at this. It's bittersweet how everyone else can simply wish you with ease, while her own vocabulary falls short in expressing the depth of her feelings.

"I'm overthinking, I know," Wanda murmurs, her foot idly nudging a stone on the sidewalk.

Agatha’s eyes soften. “When you look at it, much of what makes us suffer happens inside here,” she says, tapping a finger to the side of her head. “Our fears are often our own creation.”

Wanda ponders on Agatha's words for a while, the weight of self-imposed expectations sinking in. She wishes she hadn't set such high expectations for herself and instead had embraced the simplicity of greeting you with a heartfelt "happy birthday" from the start.

Her heart sinks as she contemplates the missed opportunity. The moment feels like it has passed, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Texting you now would seem forced, as if she's just randomly remembered your birthday and is sending a trivial greeting like one you'd give to an acquaintance. But in reality, she had been thinking about your birthday since the beginning of October, carefully crafting and deleting messages, obsessing endlessly over a simple message.

As she walks with Agatha, the city lights flickering around them, Wanda wonders when she'll finally find the courage to tell you how much you still mean to her. She wants to tell you about the cake she baked for you, how it became an instant hit and customers are already requesting it to be added to the menu. She can almost see the joy in your eyes as you take your first bite, the taste as sweet as the memory.

She wants to tell you about her journey with Calliope, wants to reminisce about your past birthdays, the shared laughter and inside jokes that have never lost their charm even after all these years.

She tries not to think about the last times, however. Or she’ll never stop grieving.

“I hate to sound like a cliche, but Wanda?” Agatha says.

“Yes?”

“Just fucking do it.” Agatha tells her, no nonsense.

Wanda nods, pressing her lips tightly together.

"Headed straight home after your shift?" Agatha asks once they wind up back to the cafe’s entrance.

Wanda shakes her head, her eyes wandering aimlessly in the distance. "No, I think I'm going to go for a run first. Clear my head."

“And then you’ll fucking do it?”

Wanda simply smiles.

***

“I'm sorry about Nat,” Yelena murmurs as you both finally arrive back home. The drive was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated by sporadic remarks about the ever-worsening Manhattan traffic. "And I'm sorry that I probably triggered your fight.”

You let out a weary sigh, the exhaustion of the day seeping into your bones. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “It was going to happen sooner or later anyway. I think I’d be pissed at me too if I were in her shoes.”

Yelena makes a sound of agreement as she begins to undress, preparing for a much-needed shower to wash away the remnants of the day.

“Does it bother you?” you ask. “Me seeing Wanda all those times?”

“It does,” she admits, her gaze steady on you. “But I think I understand it’s hard for you to simply cut off someone who has been your constant for the last decade.

"I can't say it doesn't sting," she continues, her voice calm despite the depth of the admission. "I want you to be able to move forward, but I also know that it's not something you can do overnight. It takes time." she says and then disappears into the bathroom to start filling the tub.

You let out a sigh. You wish it were as easy as flipping a switch. "I don’t deserve you," you say, sincerity in your tone.

Yelena smiles at you and then says, “Don’t make that conclusion yet because I have one more surprise for you.”

"There's more?" you ask, your gaze flicking up to meet Yelena's in amazement.

From under the bed, Yelena hauls out a sizable box, causing you to laugh and wonder how long it’s been hiding there.

"What's this?" you question as she strides over to you, the box in hand.

"Go ahead and open it," she encourages. It's loosely wrapped in parchment paper, so it doesn't take you long to remove the lid.

The contents of the box halt you in your tracks. A memory from another time flashes before your eyes as you gaze, uncertain, at the identical puzzle that Wanda gifted you years ago, the puzzle you had worked on with your father.

"I know we already have a similar one hanging in our room," Yelena says, "But it's pretty worn out. I came across this copy accidentally and knew right away that it’ll be perfect. We can put this one together.”

It’s unexpected but thoughtful. And you feel like the universe is mocking you right now.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Yelena, drawing her in for a brief, tender kiss. Yelena hums happily against your lips.

“You’re welcome,” she says, and then disappears into the bathroom.

You sink into the couch to rest for a bit, undecided if you also want to join Yelena in the bath. In the meantime, you unlock your phone and navigate to your Facebook profile, curious to read the birthday wishes posted on your wall. You meticulously scan through each notification, hoping to spot a particular name—the person who had always been the first to celebrate your day and the last to share your joy as it wound down. Yet, as you sift through the comments and messages, both public and personal, her name is conspicuously missing.

Following that, you check your text messages. There's a standard birthday greeting from your credit card company, along with a slew of generic messages from different businesses that have somehow gotten hold of your information.

But, there's nothing from Wanda.

You tell yourself it's probably better this way.

Several minutes later, Yelena steps out of the bathroom, draped only in a towel. The sight of her kindles a warmth within your chest.

“Other than the thing with Nat, did you enjoy your birthday?” she asks.

“I did,” you reply honestly, walking towards her and gently pressing a sweet kiss on her neck. “But after eating so much, I feel like I need to burn off some calories. Would you mind if I went for a run?"

“It’s your birthday,” Yelena's smile brushes against your lips, somewhat relieved. “Do whatever you want for whatever time is left of it. I'll be here when you get back."

***

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time, and just..." you call out to your wife as soon as you close the door behind you. Wanda steps out from the kitchen, cradling Sparky in her arms, her eyes swollen and glistening with fresh tears. Clearly, she has been crying for a while.

Wanda tries to respond, but her voice cracks, and only broken sobs escape her lips.

"Hey," you murmur, hastily discarding your belongings on the floor and instantly making your way to her side. "What's happened? Why are you crying?"

"I've been so worried. You weren't answering my calls. It’s a new town. And I want to be so mad at you right now, but it's your birthday, and I really, really hate you right now..." Her words fragment into disjointed sobs; her voice quivers the more she tries to articulate her feelings.

Gently, you take Sparky from her arms, setting him on the floor so that you can envelop Wanda in your arms unimpeded.

"I'm here now," you murmur into her hair as she nestles herself in your neck impossibly closer. Dinner reservations had been made months in advance to celebrate your 29th, but earlier today, a board meeting took an unexpected turn, forcing you to cancel on Wanda. She had been understanding, deciding to just cook your favorite meals instead. That conversation took place exactly eight hours ago, and since then, Wanda hadn't heard from you at all.

“You can’t do that. I can’t bear the thought of something bad happening to you, not on your birthday or any other day of the year," she sobs, her tears dampening the fabric of your shirt as she buries herself further into your embrace.

Guilt gnaws at you, sinking its teeth deeper with each passing moment. Lately, work has been demanding, occupying your time and energy, leaving you with little to spare for anything else–even Wanda. With Scott's mention of a potential promotion looming over your head, the pressure has only intensified.

Both of you had hoped that today, of all days, would be different, but it seemed you were swallowed up again – caught in the relentless tide of deadlines and emergency meetings.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm here now," you soothe, peppering her with tender kisses wherever your lips can reach.

You feel Wanda’s meek nod, and then she says, “Have you eaten at least? I can warm the food–”

“Later,” you say, holding her even tighter, as if trying to merge your souls together so you'll never have to be apart again. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

***

Running doesn’t clear Wanda’s head like it’s supposed to–like she’s expected it to.

As she runs through the sprawling expanse of Central Park, her thoughts race just as rapidly. The rhythmic pounding of her feet on the pavement fails to provide the clarity she had hoped for. Instead, each stride seems to bring her closer to the haunting words she had crafted but never sent to you. They dance before her eyes, tormenting her with their unsent weight, urging her to confront them.

Breathless and weary, Wanda slows her pace, finally acknowledging that literally running away from her wants will not trump them down. On the contrary, they amplify, persisting stubbornly until she finds herself reaching for the phone strapped to her arm, determined to compose the message she's been contemplating, but still uncertain of what to say to you.

Wanda patiently waits for her heart rate to return to normal as she types a tentative opener.

Hey! Y/N!!!

She grimaces at the excessive use of exclamation points.

Hey, Y/N

But that doesn't feel quite right either. Doesn’t sound cheerful or celebratory at the very least.

Wanda shivers as a cool breeze sweeps over her, causing her drenched t-shirt to cling to her skin. She’d probably catch a cold faster than she can hit that send button.

Your legs are burdened, yet not as heavily as your heart. This birthday has turned out to be the most emotionally taxing event of your life, surpassing even the first one you faced after your father's passing. The physical weariness from your run does little to alleviate the thought that Wanda didn't reach out to you at all.

You start questioning why it hits you so hard—why receiving a message from her feels so crucial. As you search for answers within yourself, you're confronted with a disquieting realization: you don't want Wanda to get over you.

Or maybe it's not the fear of her moving on that you struggle with. Because that would be utterly selfish on your part (wouldn’t it?).

Maybe–just maybe–you don’t want to be forgotten. Not by someone who left an indelible mark on your life and had stripped away every piece of your identity. Someone who held your heart in her hand for more than a decade.

Being forgotten so easily makes you feel insignificant. And you’re shocked that it could even hurt more than her initial betrayal–that it could leave you questioning your own worth.

It’s pathetic that one text can unravel you this way.

Your footsteps gradually come to a halt as you walk away from the running path. And then as you approach a quiet intersection that’s dimly lit by a single, flickering lamp post, you find the very person you’ve been waiting for all day.

There, under the shelter of a Sugar Maple tree, stands Wanda. She’s anxiously nipping at her fingernails, caught up in something that’s unknown to you.

Central Park is a sprawling oasis, a world of its own within the bustling concrete jungle. Its vastness is almost overwhelming, with winding paths and hidden corners that seem to stretch endlessly. The chances of stumbling upon someone you know in this labyrinthine expanse are incredibly slim, like finding a needle in a haystack.

In spite of the odds, there you are, simultaneously existing in the same space. Watching Wanda pace and clutch her phone sends waves of amazement through you. That you've both somehow found each other in this vast park at this exact moment overwhelms you with incredulity—it's bordering on unnerving.

For now, you remain undetected. You quietly take in her every action, the soft furrows of her brow as she broods, the subtle parting and pressing of her lips as she attempts to vocalize her internal monologue.

It’s an endearing sight, and it’s only then that you realize how much you miss Wanda. Maybe not in the way that you miss her when you were married to her, but just her steady presence. There is a certain peace that comes with her being in your life, a feeling that is difficult to put into words.

Wanda, oblivious to your watchful gaze, finishes the final(she swears it) draft of her greeting to you.

Hey, Y/N! I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday! I hope you had an amazing time. I simply wish you happiness and good health–always. Thank you for being born and the privilege of knowing you.

It’s all she wants to say–except for one thing:

That she loves you and always will.

But it doesn’t need to be said. Not by her. Not right now. And Wanda figures that’s okay. If her love for you needs to survive on its own, she is more than willing to hold it close and let it burn brightly within her.

Love always has somewhere to go.

It's because of her love for you that Wanda will continue to nurture the Chrysanthemums she has at home. She will care for Sparky with all her heart and give him the love and attention he deserves. She will keep growing and striving to be the person you've always believed her to be.

And before she can retract what she's typed, her thumb accidentally presses the send button. Wanda's eyes widen in panic as she realizes what she has done. She quickly takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and willing herself to calm down. It's out there now, and whatever happens, whether you read it or not, she won’t have to think about it anymore. She surmises that, in itself, is a win.

The message lands in your inbox within seconds. Your forgetfulness to switch your phone to silent mode means its arrival resonates in the quiet, drawing Wanda's attention.However, by then, your intrigue has already taken over, causing you to miss the exact moment her gaze finds you, concealed in the dimness. The glow from your phone screen illuminates your face as you digest her message.

You go over the message repeatedly, with every word causing a wider smile to form on your face. By the time you decide that you’ve had your fill of Wanda’s text, she’s gotten close enough for you to catch the green in her eyes.

“Y/N?” Wanda blinks, questioning whether she's just imagining you.

“I got your message,” you say, laughing a little, the sound of it coming off a little watery. “I… thank you.”

Wanda instantly forgets what she has just written. All that matters is that you’re there in front of her, and you seem happy about what you’ve read.

"I’ve–"

"I–"

You both start talking at the same time, then stop, chuckling at the coincidental timing.

"I'll defer to the birthday girl," Wanda whispers with a playful smirk.

"I've missed you," the words leave your mouth before doubt can dissuade you. Wanda seems to freeze at your admission – she wasn't expecting to hear from you, let alone those three words.

Before Wanda could respond, she feels herself being drawn into your arms, your warmth seeping through her being. “Me too,” Wanda sighs against her will, as if she’s finally returned home.

Eventually, you both break away, wearing matching bashful smiles on your faces.

“I was wondering if you, maybe, want to get a bite to eat?” she asks.

The vigorous run made you a little hungry, and you’re not ready to let go of Wanda just yet.

“As long as it’s my treat.” you say.

Later, you find yourselves seated in a well-lit restaurant in the heart of Chinatown. Your conversation revolves around stories from your shared past, reminiscing about college and the friends you haven't seen in a while. You tease Wanda about only learning how to use a chopstick when she met you.

You ask about Wanda’s coffee shop, and express your genuine happiness for her to see it thriving. She shares random anecdotes about her customers, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride for Wanda and her ability to create not just a business, but a world of its own.

When Wanda inquires about your work at Stark Industries, you eagerly explain the current project you're managing. You throw around some financial terms that she might not understand. Still, Wanda's eyes light up with genuine interest as she absorbs your words. Even if she doesn't completely get the complexities of your job, she does see how passionate you are about it. The excitement you exhibit when discussing your work is infectious, and it makes her smile to see how much you enjoy what you do.

You and Wanda carefully skirt around discussions of the divorce or Yelena. Nonetheless, Wanda voices her joy at seeing you thrive in your work and new relationship–to which you merely respond with a restrained smile.

Throughout your evening together, a pair of envious eyes watches from afar. They hold a storm of jealousy and deep yearning, overshadowing the pure moment you and Wanda share.

Vision wonders if it’s too late for some kind of revenge.

***

You return to Yelena late in the evening.

"You seem in high spirits," Yelena observes, her tone barely audible as she busies herself tidying up the kitchen.

"It's probably the endorphins from the run," you respond, peeling off your shirt which has dried since your time with Wanda.

Yelena gives a knowing nod. "I can see that. You were gone for quite some time."

You hum noncommittally as you move towards the shower, not picking up on Yelena’s subtle hint, leaving her alone with her thoughts about how a simple run could bring you more joy than all the thoughtful surprises she'd planned for the day.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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nohoney · 11 months

Note

coffee & cigs morning sex drabble mayhaps??

but of course (＠＾◡＾)

warnings: somnophilia, oral sex (f! receiving)

There’s nothing cozier than the built up warmth inside the blankets. It’s hard to want to leave, like you’re rooted to your comfy mattress and to the person you are also sharing the blissful warmth with. Pillows will get moved around and the stuffy you brought to sleep with probably fell off the bed at one point, but the sleep you are in is restful and deep.

At first you think it’s your dream that makes you feel so pleasant. The tingling in your limbs that makes you giggle and sigh as you dream of something otherworldly that you won’t be able to explain later on when you wake up. Then you feel something familiar that makes you stir.

You murmur incoherently at first, your head tossing to one side before going to the other. It’s gentle, whatever the sensation your feeling is and makes you moan. Slowly your body starts to recognize what you’re feeling but your mind hasn’t caught up just yet.

Whatever dreamscape you were in, it begins to fade and crumble as your consciousness begins to awaken. Vaguely you feel yourself rolling your hips forward, a gentle rocking motion that meets a wetness that begins to become more enthusiastic. Your ears pick up on a low voice, one that you are always happy to hear when it get close to that time of needing to wake up. Then your eyes begin to flutter.

At first you open your eyes to see the ceiling, the vague color of blue hour fills the room through the white blinds that don’t really do a good job of darkening the room. But the blue hour is a wonderful time to be in. Just right before the sunrise, before the sun shines apricot light through your window and truly makes you feel like your day is starting.

“Mm…” you groan quietly and rub the sleep out of your eyes, “Hmm… Touya…”

A gentle kiss is placed on your inner thigh and he mumbles, “Mornin’…”

His voice definitely didn’t come from beside you so you peer down to see him in between your legs. “G’morning… you having fun down there?” You ask him, reaching a hand to comb his hair back briefly.

“Yeah. You were all cute humping against my mouth once I got your panties off.” Touya answers you, “Just paying you back from last time.”

A few weeks ago you decided to wake Touya up in the morning by sucking him off. He’s a bit of a deep sleeper so he doesn’t wake up as easily, but he’s always miraculously awake once he feels your mouth around his cock. Even if you’re giving him the sleepy 3am blowjob, Touya is magically more awake once his dick is hard.

“Hm, it’s nice.” you hum and relax your body. One of your hand reaches down to grab the collar of your boyfriend’s shirt and pull him up towards you. It’s always imperative that you get your good morning kiss, even if the first thing in the morning Touya was doing was eating out your pussy. It’s vital to start your day.

The both of you hum into the kiss before he pulls away, tossing off his shirt and pulling his dick through the easy opening of his boxers. You give an off handed comment of lazy but it’s not really acknowledged by him. He swiftly pushes your satin cami top so that your tits are bare for him, his hand giving an appreciative squeeze first before his lines himself up against you.

Touya eases himself in little by little and your mind wanders to the many nights the two of you have woken each other by giving each other head. It makes you want to explore a little further so you ask, “Do you think you can do it next time with your dick? Waking me up I mean.”

“You sure you’re okay with that? You want me to fuck you in your sleep until you wake up?” He is concerned that maybe you’re just speaking in the moment and not giving it too much thought, but he can’t deny he’d like to give it a try. The two of you have already given each other permission to wake each other in the middle of the night for sex, but this was slightly different.

“Mm-hmm! Want you to do it!” You gasp when you’re filled by your boyfriend with your eyes rolling back briefly.

“Nuh uh. We’re gonna have a proper conversation about this later.” Touya decides that he won’t confirm it right now. Not while you’re horny for his cock so he doesn’t want you saying things that you won’t mean later on.

“But I already said-!”

Touya shuts you up putting his palm over your mouth and starts to rut against you. God there is nothing like you cumming on his dick first thing in the morning. It’s blissful to have your warmth wrapped around him this early just as the sun begins to rise. Even your muffled whines into your palm are cute too.

He adores you to pieces.

Eventually he needs both hands to help himself fuck you better. They place themselves on your hips and he holds you in place, finding a steady rhythm that suits the mood of the morning.

“Nngh! T-Touya! ‘M cumming!” You already announce, the cloud of pleasure hazing over your mind and starting to make you dumb. Turquoise eyes look down at you in amusement, already dick drunk so early in the morning. Your hands grasp at your own tits, squeezing them in your hands and pinching one of your nipples for him.

Breathy little moans are swallowed when he leans down to kiss you. “God… fuck, can I cum all over your tits?” Touya mutters against your lips when he pulls away from the kiss, “Can I, doll?”

He’s given a jittery little nod so Touya picks up his pace. The bounce of your tits and your sweet voice as he fucks away into you, he likes to start his morning this way before getting out of bed.

“Squeeze them together, I’m about to cum!” Touya gives you a quick warning. You push your tits together and your eyes follow his movement. You’re practically in awe as he cums all over you, warm against your skin and so thick as you feel it drip slowly.

While you’re calming down, Touya is fetching his discarded shirt and wiping you clean with it. No matter what you’ll end up taking a shower but at least he cleaned most of it off first. He remembers the first time he lagged on getting a cum rag to wipe you down, you got a little snippy afterwards and complained that being covered in cum is always hot in the moment but then just uncomfortable once clarity sets in.

He’s diligent in wiping you down, making conversation about what he plans to do today and when he’ll back from his own errands. Your own plans consist of staying indoors, baking a cake that you’ve been meaning to try for a while, and then scrolling on your phone.

Coffee is being brewed but only a single cup today; you wanted tea instead for this morning.

Coming out fresh from the shower, you look towards the window of the living room to see sunshine illuminating the space. Being in this personal space that you’ve built with your boyfriend along the with sound of him prepping his morning coffee really makes you feel like you’re in a real home. But then again you think that about anything when you get good sex, it just happens to make you more appreciative.

“Here doll, it’s ready.” Touya sets down one of your mugs onto the little dining room table. You sit across from him, putting your feet in his lap and thank him for making your tea this morning. “So about earlier…”

The two of you discuss with one another over your own beverages. From things in sex you want to try to wanting to rearranging some of the furniture or possible future events that you and him or may not want to attend so you plan excuses in advance.

Touya departs with a kiss and tells you he’ll text you later when he’s coming back so you’re left to your own devices until he returns. The first thing to do is make the bed. It’s a crumpled, inviting mess to lie in again as you move towards it. You smooth away the bedsheets, frowning when you see a dried spot that stands out against the color. Knowing all too well that it’s Touya’s cum that probably spurted from his dick when he finished all over you, it figures that a few drops are missed.

Instead you start your day with cleaning the bedsheets.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi smut #tw somno

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jujutsubaby · 3 months

Text

after hours (part 7)

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader, satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: time to face the music, even if you're hungover. and by music...it's the missed calls and texts and from toji. what could he possibly want? ☆ tags: modern au, academia au, babysitting au ☆ warnings: mentions of alcohol, food poisoning, sexting, slight dubcon, dirty talking ☆ a/n: another longie (7.8k+ words SORRY) but i hope you guys enjoy the foreplay. y/n is about to be dicked down every day like good for her!! but also!! wish that were me! 🤭 next one will be filled with smut so dw u horndogs!! also i'm unsure when then 3sum will come but i'm thinking in like SOON in like...10ish parts (i hope not more). i want to slow burn lead up to it and hint it more before actually writing about it LOL (also ik it sounds like a taco bell commercial in the end its not ok i just love taco bell!!!) 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

the soft morning light shines through curtains you forgot to close last night, and the harshness of the sun causes you to stir in your sleep, waking you harshly.

your heart beats fast and you open your eyes and are unable to move a single limb on your body. panic sets in, only to dissipate seconds later as you find a rather tall lump of a man’s leg trapping you in the corner of your sofa.

ugh, how did i get here? why is it so bright? why does every inch of my body hurt? oh god, i’m about hurl.

you barely hold back dry heaving in your laid down position. your head is pounding and you don’t like how empty your stomach is right now. why do my legs hurt? i feel like i can’t feel them anymore. oh, right.

the large shape of a man who’s body is halfway strewn across yours, satoru, is now constricting the blood flow to your legs, and you know you have to do the daunting task of waking him up.

“psst, satoru. wake up.” you lightly pat his unruly head of white hair, but with no success. you start hitting his head harder, as you quickly start to lose more feeling in your legs, until you practically are shouting his name, swatting his head and kicking his torso. satoru abruptly wakes and turns around the small sofa, which actually has no room for turning, so he actually ends up taking a small dive into the hardwood floors of your living room.

satoru lets a groggy yet painful groan. “what the literal fuck, y/n?!” his words are almost incoherent with sleep laced between them as he rubs his arms that took the brunt of the fall. “as if my head isn’t aleady fuckin’ killin’ me.”

you groan out in pain. “my legs were being suffocated by your large body!”

none of you answer, and continue to lay still in your respective positions for what feels like hours, until your headache becomes almost too unbearable to withstand.

“satoru~” you whine out. “m’head…it hurts so much, i feel like i’m gonna die…” you turn your body as slow as you can to the edge of the couch to see satoru’s face. his eyes are still closed, but scrunched, and his hand is resting on his forehead.

“it’s called a hangover. get in line, stupid.”

“don’t call me stupid right now, satoru. i’m in pain!” you cry out, your fingers doing their best to sooth your pain by rubbing harsh circles on your temples.

satoru slowly sits up without looking at you, grabs a decorative pillow from the chaise of your couch, and immediately face plants on to it on the floor, effectively falling asleep once more. you think that’s not a bad idea, now that you have more space, and close your eyes and force your mind to concentrate on anything but your throbbing head.

okay, so we got back from the barcade. me and satoru…we…kissed. we definitely kissed. i remember that. and then? did we have sex? no, that doesn’t like us - neither of us are keen on having sex drunk for a variety of reasons besides the obvious ones.

your thoughts slowly drown out as you find yourself falling into a second deep slumber.

the second time you and satoru wake for the day is the most disconcerting: a loud, high pitched scream.

you wake up with your heart pounding so hard, you think you’re dying from cardiac arrest. satoru thinks he threw up in his mouth from how fast he stood up with a headache. both of your eyes look at the direction of the scream and see a horrified and bewildered shoko staring wide eyes and slack jawed at you. wait, why isn’t she looking at my eyes? she’s looking at my…oh my god!

you look down and see your bralette lightly torn up and your titties completely exposed and you immediately turn to look at satoru (who’s alternating between staring at your eyes and your tits). and then back at shoko.

oh? oh. OH. OH! it fucking hits you like a ton of bricks and your hungover brain immediately goes into panic mode, shoving all signals of hunger, pain, and soreness aside.

“sh-shoko, it’s obviously not like that. this is actually so funny, you know…” you do a failed attempt at a lighthearted chuckle and fumble around for a decorative pillow until satoru hands you the one he was sleeping on.

“yeah, it’s not at all what you think it is. i didn’t…i didn’t even know she had boobs until like…right now. i swear, it’s not-” satoru bumbles, also going into damage control.

“save it. i don’t care. not right now, when i’m too hungover,” shoko says, closing her eyes and raising a hand up as she bolts to her room and closes the door.

you figure you do the same and hastily get up and grab satoru’s hands. the two of you stumble your way into your bedroom and lock the door and catch your breaths.

“ohmygod this is so embarrassing,” you say whisper, not wanting shoko to overhear your conversation. you start rubbing your temples again as satoru face plants, again, on to your bed. he doesn’t respond to you so you join him and push him to his back and try to get his attention. his eyes are still scrunched closed and he lets out a groan.

“satoru, do you even know what happened? shoko probably thinks we had…ugh i can’t even say it!”

this makes him open one eye to look at you and cock an eyebrow. he lets out a laugh, which makes you let out laugh (against your will). you playfully hit his chest but he intercepts your wrists with ease and pulls you on top of him so that your sitting up on his torso while he’s laying down.

this feels nice but…you know deep down you two should probably address the elephant in the room. you uncomfortably clear your throat and he opens his eyes. “maybe we should talk about last night…” you say with a sigh.

“what’s there to say? there’s nothing wrong with two friends kissing,” satoru says cheekily, his voice still slightly deep and groggy. kinda hot.

his response puts you at ease, and your fingers start toying with the buttons on his shirt (not in a sexual way, but in a ‘this feels nice to fidget with so i don’t have anxiety’ kinda way).

“yeah, but maybe we should…i dunno…talk about it?” you question, avoiding eye contact with him.

“like?”

“like, i dunno…” you start to chicken out before forcing yourself to say what you really want to say. “i dunno…are we only gonna kiss each other from now on? because i kinda still…wanna kiss toji…” your voice becomes barely audible near the end.

satoru stays quiet for longer than you anticipated, and you’re about to step off him to throw up in the bathroom before he finally responds with a resounding hum.

“yeah, i don’t mind. if i’m being honest…with us having school and work and all…it might be hard to make this an exclusive thing. and also…i know mia was a bitch to literally everyone but…god…” satoru sighs deeply. “her ass was insane, i’m sorry!”

you laugh wholeheartedly and grab a nearby pillow and hit his head softly in jest. you should’ve known someone like satoru, someone as horny as satoru, would not want to be tied down during grad school just yet. a sense of relief washes over you as you feel grateful that satoru has always matched your wavelength since high school. you start to think of the second elephant in the room. what will we tell shoko? and suguru? and utahime and literally all of our friends? there’s no telling shoko hasn’t already told utahime…

“also…maybe we should keep this between us…for now. especially after…” you trail off, deep in thought about the prospect of your friends finding out.

“yeah, that sounds like a good idea…” satoru says, smirking slowly. “definitely because of our friends but also…it’s always fun to have a sexy secret with someone.”

“shut up!” you give him a smack across the chest, before thinking. i mean, it’s not like you hated kissing him. and you didn’t hate it when he played with your titties. “maybe…i mean…maybe we can still, you know, fool around still?” you say shyly.

“maybe we can fuck too if that’s something you’re down for?” satoru says unabashedly.

you lean your body down, pressing against him, and bring your lips inches from his lips, before saying you’d like that a lot. he closes the gap and starts kissing you deeply, just like the night before. satoru’s hands move up and down your hips, leaving no part of your torso untouched. your hips buckle into his and starts grinding against his already hard member. your skirt from last night has already risen up, so the cool metals of his belt are grinding up and down your clothed core, making you squirm and moan into his mouth.

satoru breaks the kiss and you whine at the loss of contact. your lips immediately latch on to his neck, leaving small wet spots all over.

satoru groans. “fuck, need this off.” he puts his fingers around the waistband of your skirt and shimmies it off of you, leaving you exposed in your thong and have ripped bralette.

your hands immediately get to work and unbuckles his belt. your hands fumble as you unzip his pants and slide them halfway down, his erect clothed member coming into view. satoru lets out a throaty breath as you start palming his hard member and leaving kisses from his neck down to his happy trail. before you’re able to start kissing below the belt, satoru pulls your head up via bunching up your hair into a makeshift ponytail and starts to kiss you as he sits up.

“maybe we should take this into the shower…” he mumbles in between kisses. you nod and break off the kiss.

“what time is it?” you say, as you look around for your phone. you find it only to see that the battery is completely dead. frowning, you get up to charge it before continuing your activities with satoru.

“jesus, it’s 11 in the mornin’” satoru says, sounding slightly flustered. “fuck! i’m gonna be late for a lab meeting!” he says, as he starts to put his belt back on.

you frown. “so no shower sex?”

“i promise you, i want nothing more than to fuck your brains out in that shower.” satoru scrunches his eyes, and you wonder if he’s in genuine pain over the fact that he can’t. “but i unfortunately told nanami i’d personally talk to professor masamichi about his referral.”

“since when do you care about holding up your end of the bargain like that?” you say, cocking an eyebrow. you’ve known satoru for years, and you don’t think he’s ever showed up to a professional meeting on time, nor did he ever care to follow through with requests given to him by his peers.

“yeahhh, i know but nanami said he’s gonna send a deep web hitman for me after tricking him into my party and forcing him to be on my pool team…soo…”

“you’re so insane.”

“i think i’m going insane forfeiting pussy to go to a lab meeting, alright?”

you laugh softly. perhaps it’s probably a good time to let satoru go so you can begin your day. you have a laundry list of things to get done that thinking about it is enough for you to feel sick (showering, studying, talking to shoko without satoru there, and more things you know you’re forgetting). “well, thanks for offering anyway,” you say.

“c’mere,” satoru says, holding out his arms to you. you melt into the hug he gives you and look up.

“still seein’ you for study group later?” you ask him, recalling you, nanami, and haibara were planning to do some studying for your final at the university library later this evening.

“oh shit, yeah. gotta clean up the aftermath of last night at my place and then i’ll be there,” he assures you, before grabbing his phone. you quickly put on a pair of pajama shorts and replace your torn up bralette with an old sleeping oversized tee and lead satoru to the doorway of your apartment. you wave goodbye to him, and prepare yourself to have a potentially awkward conversation with shoko after what she saw this morning.

you scurry to shoko’s bedroom and knock twice on the door, and shoko immediately opens it and lets you in. you give her a pouty look, internally apologizing for the sight in the morning. it’s not necessarily that she saw you topless (you guys are roommates and nip slips happen), it’s more so that you were topless with satoru.

“glad to see you finally wearing clothes, you slut,” shoko says tiredly. you can detect a slight joking tone in her voice and it relaxes you immediately. you sigh softly.

“listen, shoko.” you start but hesitate. you want to tell shoko what really happened last night, but you remember you’re the one who didn’t want to tell your mutual friends about you and satoru. shoko and you have been best friends for so long and you can’t bear to lie to her or keep something from her. no literally, you tried to in the past but she saw through you within minutes and you ended up divulging everything to her. you figure now is no different, and you also trust her not to tell suguru or anyone else.

shoko snaps her fingers at you. “hello, y/n? where’d ya go?”

“i hooked up with satoru last night.” you say quickly, praying she doesn’t ask you to say it again.

shoko is silent and you cannot read her face for the life of you. “okay, it wasn’t even a hook up, i dunno why i said that. we just made out and like sortofmadeittosecondbasebutit’snotthatserious-”

your rambling is interrupted by shoko’s laughter howling across the room. shoko tries to calm down and collect herself. “wow, i mean, i sort of clocked it because of how you were this morning but oh my god? like it finally happened?”

you plop down on her bed next to her and shake her to make her stop laughing. “shokoo~ stop it! i was really horny last night, okay!” you’re scrambling to defend yourself from this blunder.

“yeah, but him? kinda…embarrassing, no? i mean i know he’s hot, like even i can attest to that but gojo is like…hot and insufferable…like i’m happy for you but at what cost to you?” shoko explains as she wipes away tears from her eyes from laughing too hard.

“i know, it is embarrassing and i dunno what i see in him but…when i see him…shoko,” you start rubbing your temples as you feel your headache coming on again. “i just wanna fuckin’ jump his bones, dude.” you think you hear shoko mumble something about how she cannot stand straight people. she has a point.

“so what now?” shoko asks, getting up from her bed and grabbing her scrubs from her closet, slowly getting ready for her shift at the hospital.

“well, for starters, you cannot tell anyone because we said we would keep it secret so you gotta pretend you dunno about this.” you go on to tell shoko about how you guys would continue to fool around casually. “it’s because we have so much going on and you know…i still wanna kiss toji.” wait, toji. toji’s text? did he respond. how could you have forgotten something you were obsessing over the whole night yesterday?! it finally hits you that satoru finally took your mind off of toji for a while, and that he could’ve finally messaged you back this morning.

shoko mulls this information over for a bit, and you already know what her next question is. “can i tell utahime? pleeeaaassseeee!” she whines.

“if you tell utahime she might actually kill me in my sleep.” you say exhasperatedly.

“no, no she won’t. she might want to take you for a psych eval or something but that’s it. she might throw up too, i guess. and she might cry for you. and she-”

“okay, i’ve heard enough.” you stop shoko, getting up from her bed and heading back to your room. before exiting shoko’s bedroom, you quickly give her permission to tell utahime but no one else. it’s quite pathetic how fast you run to your desk where your phone lay charging. your practically jumps out of your chest as you see 5 missed text messages from toji:

toji: Holy fuck, pumpkin 🥵 your titties are so fuckin insane. im so fuckin hard right now.

toji: Wyd tn?

toji: You’ve made me so hard right now n someone’s gotta help me fix this mess. Im bout to beat myself off to this pic fuck

toji: [1 Photo]

toji: [1 Video]

you open the photo he sent and gasp. it’s a photo of him in front of his mirror, shirtless, and him holding his clearly erect member, except it’s barely peeking through the granite counter tops of his bathroom. you open the video and see it’s a video of him…oh my god, it’s a video of him touching himself? you’re appalled and turned on because he looks so good in it and you wish it was you getting him off instead. you check the timestamp, and you’re embarrassed to realize he sent this around the time you were having your heavy makeout session with satoru or around the time you passed out shortly after.

the video continues to play as you strip yourself completely, creep to the bathroom, and turn on the shower. as you wait for it to get to the temperature you like, you continue to watch the video of toji stroking himself, and your hand automatically guides itself to your already wet and throbbing core. just knowing toji recorded this for your viewing pleasure (and it was indeed an immense pleasure viewing it) turned you on so much that you felt near your climax already. you start rubbing harsher circles on your delicate bundle of nerves, until you’re unable to hold back any longer. the sound of the shower blocks out your throaty moans, and you end up coming undone around the same time as toji does in the video. you breath heavily as you see white streaks painting toji’s shower, not dissimilar from your location.

through heavy breaths, you quickly send a picture of your fingers resting and covering the bare “v” on your body. this time, you immediately get a response.

toji: Fuck pumpkin, you left me all alone last night and now you do this?

immediately you respond back, biting back a smile.

y/n: you’re the one who left me hanging all day :( i had to cum all by myself just right now looking at your video daddy

you hit send and it’s been only 10 seconds before you see that toji is ringing you. you let it ring a little bit longer, not wanting to sound desperate for him, even though you totally are. “hii toji~” you say sultrily.

“pumpkin, you better come over tonight.” toji’s husky voice sends shivers through your spine, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes in pleasure. god, this is just what his voice does to you? you want him bad.

“hmm, why should i? i’m hurt after you ignored me all day, toji.” you try to sound strict and upset over the phone but it’s hard when your body is already ready for another orgasm.

“aww don’t gimme that,” toji coos. “i’ll take care of your pretty little puss- oh whoops, megumi is here, but you know what i mean.” you can hear him smirking on the other line and you almost get second-hand embarrassment from him almost saying a bad word in front of megumi.

“how can you take care of me when you don’t even respond to my texts?” you whine. “go fuck the other girl you were fucking last night instead of me.” oh wow. you don’t know where that came from, but the hangover you have right now is making you feel brattier than usual. and you actually do want to know what he was doing (or who) all day yesterday, even if it makes you a hypocrite since you were with satoru last night (and this morning).

you hear toji roar with laughter, a little too much in your opinion, and you pout. where does he get off laughing about how he ghosted me last night? “okay, if you must know…megumi got himself some classic food poisoning from the parent-teacher conference.” though the parent-teacher conference feels decades away, your heart drops for poor megumi and you gasp. “calm down pumpkin, he’s fine now so don’t worry. his friends just made him eat somethin’ weird on the playground, i think.”

“oh my god, toji!” you say horrified. “okay, i’m coming over tonight with some soup. and not for you okay, for megumi.” who are you kidding? you’re also partially going so toji could fuck your brains out but you’re not about to give him that satisfaction.

“whatever you say, pumpkin. see you at 6:30? i’ll make dinner.” ugh, he always knows what to say to sound so romantic and you fall for it all the time. plus, seeing a domestic toji in the kitchen…god you can’t even think about it because you might end up screaming at how horny you might get.

“see ya, daddy.” you say jokingly. toji and you say goodbye and hang up. you quickly shoot a text to your study group quickly making up an excuse as to why you can no longer come. while nanami and haibara respond in the group with thumbs ups, satoru messages you privately.

satoru: wtf i didn’t know fucking you this evening was still on the table?

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. what the hell is he on about?

y/n: what r u talkin about u weirdo

satoru doesn’t respond, and you’ve been wasting so much water already having an entire phone conversation with toji and, admittedly touching yourself that you might as well get in. the hot shower envelops your sore body, and before you’re able to fully wet yourself, you hear the ding of your phone. you really shouldn’t…but you were never good at controlling yourself. you quickly open the shower and bring your phone in, shielding it from the water.

satoru: u obvi cancelled to see toji im not stupid

y/n: no comment

satoru: cancel on him i promise u baby i will fuck u better and harder tn

your eyes widen at the offer. you recall a couple nights ago refusing a similar offer he texted you, but this time felt more serious. you want to see toji, but you also want to see satoru. you’re about to mull over the options before an image of a sick megumi pops into your forehead, and you immediately know you have to go to toji to at the very least see megumi and maybe read him a couple bedtime stories and help him with some missed homework.

y/n: toji’s kid got food poisoning :( i feel like i should go see him but…let’s link tomorrow?

satoru: he’s using his kid to get pussy that is insane. but yes ok fine cya -_-

you chuck your phone outside the shower, and close your eyes. you try to think of things that don’t involve sexy moments with satoru or toji…or satoru and toji and instead think of how much extra studying you have to get done tonight since you’re opting to go to see toji. as always, you fail to think of anything else.

the timer for the soup you’re making for megumi beeps and you turn it off hastily, determined to finish up one last problem set before going to the kitchen. through some miraculous intervention (and advil), you were able to hunker down and solve through the problem sets you were supposed to solve with your study group and prepare a simple chicken soup for megumi. after five minutes, you check your work hastily, before deciding it’s enough for you to get full marks and sprint to the kitchen, which now smells like chicken stock and veggies and you hum. you’re excited for megumi to try the soup your mom had made for you whenever you had food poisoning.

you go back to your room and finish packing your bags and picking your outfit for the night. since you’re just staying indoors with toji, and the weather says it’ll be a pretty warm evening, you opt for your comfiest pair of fleece shorts and a well loved collegiate sweatshirt. you’ve perfected the art of a “no makeup” makeup look throughout the years, so you’re able to get by with just throwing your hair in a messy bun and calling it day. you quickly grab a large to-go soup container for the soup and pack your bags to head to toji’s place.

you hate feeling like a child but just merely thinking of seeing toji after him being so distant with you yesterday has your heart doing cartwheels like you’re in fifth grade with a crush. you’re also excited to see a domestic toji in action in his fancy kitchen. maybe a bit too excited, you think, as you feel the wetness pool around your core. god, snap out of it already! the night hasn’t even started yet.

you drive into toji’s 4-car driveway, only to see toji’s garage door open. huh, that’s weird. you normally park in his driveway (he’s asked you to so you’re not left walking to your car during the late nights when you babysit) so you pull up anyway, despite the confusion. you see toji’s head peek through the garage door inside and he looks…oh, he looks kinda upset. you’re about to get out of the car and meet toji but he starts to walk towards you, his face only softening a tiny bit, which is unusual. oh, something must’ve really annoyed him.

you open your car door and get out halfway to talk to toji. “hey toji, you okay? what’s wrong?” your voice is laced with concern. once toji gets within arms length of you, you reach up and start rubbing his chest in an effort to sooth him.

toji grunts, and quickly leans down to peck your lips. “sorry pumpkin, megumi just told me he signed up to bring brownies for his soccer potluck early tomorrow morning. n’ they gotta be homemade.”

you furrow your brows even more in confusion. you know about the monthly potlucks megumi has with his soccer team on the weekends, but there’s usually some silly theme to them (last month’s was barbie themed so everyone had to bring in something pink). you guess this time around the theme is homemade meals and treats. “what’s the issue? there’s still plenty of time to grab something from the store…”

“the issue is i wanted to use that time to cook something nice for my son’s insanely hot babysitter, y/n.” toji replies bluntly.

“ohh~” it came out of you by accident, and you’re a little embarrassed as you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “th-that’s fine toji. you don’t need to-”

“i wanted to…and then i wanted to eat her pussy for dessert.” his eyes darken and he smirks coyly. toji pulls your body closer to his and leans down to give you your first proper kiss of the night. your arms wrap around his neck, which he uses as a signal to deepen the kiss by inserting his tongue into your mouth. you allow him and his tongue wastes no time exploring every inch of your mouth. you find yourself moaning into the kiss softly and tugging on his hair, until you hear megumi yell for toji from the garage. you both immediately snap back into a respectful distance apart.

“daddy, i’m ready to go.” megumi says, his voice slightly tired. you grab your bag and soup container from your car and walk inside the garage to greet megumi, who’s eyes beam when they see you. he runs to you for a hug, which you gladly return with one hand.

“hey there, kiddo. heard you were sick last night,” you say pityingly.

“yeah i ‘frew up because yuji and nobara dared me to eat some weird smelling cheese from the cafeteria.”

you make a disgusted face. “megumiii, you have to stop doing stuff because you think it’ll make you look cool. it’s just gross.” you stand up and turn to toji. “i made him some chicken soup, it’s still warm so be careful but i think it might help him out.”

toji thanks you and takes the soup and your bag from you. he tells you to wait out here with megumi while he quickly puts it inside the fridge. you turn to megumi sympathetically again. “how are you feelin’ now, bud?”

“i’m totally fine now!!!” he says very energetically, doing various dramatic stretches to supposedly “prove” that he was all good. “but…daddy’s mad because now he has to make brownies instead of dinner for us.”

“daddy will get over it, don’t worry.” you wink to megumi. “i’ll put in a good word for you. maybe i’ll even help you bake some brownies, kay?”

megumi’s eyes light up at the sound of baking a sweet treat with you, and it melts your heart. “really?! you mean it?!” you nod in response and give his cheeks a friendly pinch, causing him to laugh.

“what’s going on, you guys talking shit about me?” toji walks into the garage, and you finally get a proper glimpse of what he’s wearing: loose slim fitted grey sweats and a skin tight compression shirt (that perfectly shows off his toned chest), which he’s currently covering up (to your dismay) with a black fitted quarter zip. it almost makes you forget about how he swore in front of megumi. almost.

“toji! don’t say that word in front of your son, oh my god.” you playfully chastise him as you pretend to cover megumi’s ears.

“fuck, my bad. megumi, don’t say what i say.” toji says without a care in the world.

“shit!” megumi says out loud, and he’s about to say another word but you give him a disappointed glare, which makes him immediately stop saying more alleged swear words. “to be fair, i learn most bad words from nobara. she knows soo many…” okay, you need to dissect that later with him.

you notice toji reaching for his car keys and you start protesting. “wait, toji, i can drive us. my car is already open and in your driveway anyway…” you’ve never driven toji anywhere, and it’s kind of exciting to potentially have that opportunity now. toji seems to hesitate for a bit, purely out of ego of letting the girl he’s sleeping with drive him somewhere, but acquiesces. you give him a bright smile before taking megumi’s hands and heading to your car. you get him seated in the backseat of your mini cooper, and megumi marvels at being inside your car for the first time.

“woah! this car is so small and tiny and fun sized!” he says while laughing, and you ruffle his hair. finally, the first person to ever say something nice about the size of your car!

you shut the door and see toji already on the passenger side furrowing his brows while looking at your car. you know this look. you’ve seen this look on satoru and suguru, and any guy who’s over 6 feet tall and is riding in your car for the first time.

“pumpkin, i am not gonna fit inside here. let’s just take my car.”

“don’t be dramatic, you’ll fit. everyone fits inside this car. now get in.” you huff, already getting settled inside and putting on your seatbelt. toji get into the passenger seat, and the sheer weight of his build causes the car to shake. he adjusts his seat and tries to get as comfortable as he can. you see his legs are bent in uncomfortable angles as he puts his seatbelt on.

“this is the last time i’m getting in your tiny ass car, y/n. i feel like i’m about to die.” oh he called you by your name. he’s definitely hating this but…he did ignore you the whole day yesterday. sure, megumi was sick but it would’ve taken 10 seconds max to say that through text.

you start to back out of his driveway and drive to the nearby target. “you’ll get over it. also, i was thinking…” you make eye contact with megumi from the backseat and give him a wink and he returns one as well. “maybe i can help megumi with baking brownies, too. and maybe we can just order takeout instead? spend the rest of time helping megs get his rest for tomorrow?”

you bite your lip and turn to face toji during a red light. you hate to sound cocky, but you know he can’t resist you when you’re looking at him like this, and you’re right. toji obliges, but swears he’s going to pay for dinner regardless, and you don’t object.

megumi fills the car ride with random tidbits and stories from school and his sick day yesterday while you and toji entertain him. throughout the ride, toji alternates between holding your free hand and rubbing circles on your thighs while you drive, which you make a mental note of telling him not to do because it definitely distracts you from the road.

at target, the three of you grab ingredients for the brownies pretty quickly, before getting in a moderately long line. while waiting, your eyes wander and see the cutest black lace bralette (pretty similar to the one satoru destroyed last night). you really want to check it out, so you quickly tell toji and get closer to inspect it. the beautiful lace designs are just so your style, and the price range is perfect, too. you make another mental note to come back and make satoru buy it for you.

“like what you see?” toji’s voice startles you and you turn around quickly, and feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “i think you’d look sexy in it, for what it’s worth.”

“th-thanks, toji. i might get it later…”

“you should get it now. i’ll buy it for you. after all, your bralette got ripped last night, right?” what. the. fuck?

the color drains from your face and if you weren’t feeling hot before, you sure are burning up right now. your throat feels dry and you start stuttering. “wha-what are you talkin’ abou-”

“the one that…god what was his name? satoru? yeah, the one that satoru ripped, right?” toji is fully smirking amusedly now, and you look like a deer caught in his headlights at his mercy.

“h-how do you know th-that?” you say, your eyes widening at your (slutty) night out being caught by toji.

“oh, sorry, i thought you knew. i called you last night, pumpkin, remember?” toji inches closer to you and his pupils dilate. your breathing gets more erratic and heavy. what? no he didn’t. or did he? oh my god. it hits you that you answered his call via your body movements with satoru and you didn’t know. and you didn’t bother checking your call logs this morning because there was no missed call from toji since you technically answered it. oh my god.

“you made me so fuckin’ hard with that pic of your tits, y/n. i had to call you to help me get off, but it seems like you were too busy getting off too.” toji’s lips are inches from your ears, and you can feel his breath as he whispers in your ear, and it makes your eyes roll far back in your head. “i can’t lie, pumpkin, your moans while he was playing with you…” toji groans and you dare to look down his hips to see a tent forming in his gray sweats, making your breath hitch. “it made me so fuckin’ turned on that i just had to touch myself to it. but don’t worry, you didn’t miss much. i sent you a full video of it, too.”

you have to bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from moaning in the middle of the women’s section of target out of all fucking places, but you let out the tiniest whimper that only toji can hear.

“don’t worry, pumpkin. i’m not mad you were with someone else. you’re such a needy slut who needs to be taken care of, and when daddy can’t help, you have to find your own way, isn’t that right?” he grabs your jaw roughly and forces you to make eye contact with him. “answer me, pumpkin.” he says more forcefully.

oh, you are so finished. you are done for. your panties are a complete mess and you wish you had brought a second pair with you because they are just ruined. you swallow before answering toji with a shaky “yes daddy.”

toji releases your jaw, but not before giving your lips a quick peck that leaves you wanting more. way more. he squeezes your ass, which you don’t expect and let out an unfortunate and embarrassing squeak, causing a handful of people nearby you guys to turn around and wonder about the noise for half a second. toji grabs the bralette and heads back to the line where he made megumi wait with the cart. you take a moment to yourself to process the information toji revealed and get your breathing under control before heading back. you feel like maybe you should be upset about this, but…it’s just turning you on? those forbidden feelings you’ve been having about satoru and toji taking you at the same time are bubbling to the surface with toji’s confession, and you force them down unsuccessfully. toji’s a fuckin’ freak but that just turns you on even more.

in the car, you’re still unable to properly hold a conversation with megumi and toji properly because of how flustered you are. you crack a window open, and you bite your lips so hard that you’re sure you bruised them when toji places his hand on your thigh again. a mangled moan gets stuck in your throat and you cough quickly to cover up any suspicion.

“s-so, what are we gonna do for dinner? t-takeout? where?” you stutter, quickly trying to regain your composure.

“i want taco bell!” megumi yells excitedly from the backseat.

“megumi, y/n is our guest here. we can’t just take her to taco bell. think of a nicer place than that. what about panda express?” toji turns around to chastise megumi, but his hands are still firmly gripping your thigh.

you cough again and wish you had a bottle of water to help your dry throat. “i love taco bell! let’s go, it’s okay, toji.” you press to start the car ignition, and ride to taco bell is anything but silent, with megumi talking about the countless items he wanted to get from taco bell, and toji dissuading him from doing so.

“even if you’re feeling better, why in the world would you want to eat a chicken crispanada? who even told you about that?” toji asks exasperatedly.

it’s probably yuji, he’s always eating something weird.

“yuji told me about it.” megumi says without missing a beat, causing you to smile. by the time you pull up to the taco bell drive-thru, toji has talked down megumi to reduce his never ending list of taco bell items, but not by a lot (“he’s a growing boy!” you told toji).

toji does the honors of remembering everyone’s orders and responding to the cashier when he asks what the order is. “yeah, uh, hi, can we get 5 crunchy tacos, 1 mexican pizza, 1 chicken crispinada…”

“CINNABON DELIGHTS!” megumi interrupts from the backseat.

“yeah, uh, the 12 pack cinnabon delights…” toji looks over at you to get your order. you whisper to him you want a crunchwrap supreme and he frowns when that’s the only thing you want. “you gotta have something else, pumpkin…” he encourages. you know you probably should, but there’s no way you can eat as much as him and megumi, which makes you hesitate.

“i just don’t think i can finish another thing by myself…” you say quickly, knowing the cashier might be getting annoyed at how long it’s taking for you guys to order, but toji doesn’t seem to care.

“we can split some nachos, yeah?” toji squeezes your thigh reassuringly, and you smile and nod.

“yeah, and maybe a nacho bell grande? that’s all for us.” the cashier sounds bored and he tells you guys the total and asks you to pull to the front. in the front window, the bored cashier’s expression immediately changes when he looks at you…wait. not you.

the cashier immediately straightens up and adjusts his shirt. he looks almost nervous as he reads out loud the order you guys have, but stutters every time he looks up and makes eye contact with…toji. he stutters out the total, and toji smirks at him while he takes out his wallet and pulls out his card, passing it to you to pass to the cashier. the cashier hesitates to run his card, and it looks like he’s deep in thought before he starts to speak, this time more confidently.

“um, actually, sir, we’re having a new promotion if you’re interested…”

toji hums in response. “and what’s that?” he asks it so sensually that you have to do a flabbergasted double take between the two of them. is this what you think it is?

“you see, the meal’s on the house…in exchange for your number.” the cashier coyly returns a smile to toji, not breaking eye contact with him, and as a result, totally ignoring you and megumi in the car. you sneak a glance behind you at megumi and you’re surprised to see him looking completely bored and unamused by what’s happening.

“gimme a pen and the receipt and you got it, sugar.” toji’s response is a bit too quick for your liking, but you’re still in shock as a quickly jots down his digits before handing the receipt back to the cashier and pocketing his card. the cashier winks at him as you drive up to the second window for your food and toji looks completely unphased by what just transpired. you turn to look at him incredulously, with wide confused eyes and your dropped.

“what…was that?!”

“jealous? don’t worry about it, pumpkin. not the first time someone’s asked me my number for a free meal.” he chuckles, still nonplussed about the entire interaction.

you shake your head, baffled. “w-what? so you’re telling me multiple are just? into you like this? also i’m not jealous!”

toji shrugs and grins. “guess so. i mostly care about the free meal, and currently, my eyes are for you.” he assures you by squeezing your hands quickly and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

you laugh at how absurd it is. no way he’s flirting with cashiers for a free meal. you make a mental note to tell shoko about it later, even though you know it will just fan the “toji doesn’t have a job” flames even more. “oh my god, you’re a slut! you, like, just give it up real easy, huh?” you tease, but you make sure to mouth the word “slut” so megumi can’t hear the foul language.

“you’re one to talk,” toji says, and you both laugh as you get your food and drive home quickly before the food gets cold.

at toji’s place, toji helps set the dinner table for megumi, while you offer to start on the brownies since you weren’t as hungry. toji sits at the dinner table with megumi, and you both entertain him and his jokes and stories as he eats his dinner hungrily. after a particularly disgusting story about yuji eating a worm on the playground (“this is why you’re getting food poisoning so much, megs!” toji says while you chastise him once again about the dangers of peer pressure), you can feel megumi’s voice get lower as he gets more tired. it makes sense – he had a rough day yesterday, and so he’s more tired today.

“someone’s sleepyyyy” you sing and lightly tease megumi, as you fill up a cup of water for him.

“i’m not! i’m very awake and i can watch-” megumi is interrupted by his own yawn which he fails to hide from either of you. “i can watch some tv. i need to watch more euphoria…” he pleads.

“what is this show you’re watching?” toji questions, looking at megumi quizzically as he starts throwing away trash from megumi’s dinner. your eyes widen and before megumi answers, toji cuts him off. “doesn't matter. no tv for you because your body needs to recover and you need to sleep early tonight.”

megumi pouts so hard that tears begin to brim his eyes. “but this isn’t fair,” he whines.

toji picks him up with one arm with ease (did his biceps get even bigger?). “tell you what, you go to sleep early, and let me and y/n bake your brownies for you. and i promise you i’ll let you have a brownie for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

you shoot toji a frown. you always try to prep some overnight oats or pancakes or something more balanced for megumi to have in the mornings after you leave, but you know toji has to lose some battles to win some to avoid a crying temper tantrum tonight. toji shrugs as he looks at you and throws the remaining trash away, as megumi immediately cheers up hearing about his impending brownie breakfast.

toji turns to you. “gonna put him to bed, be right back, pumpkin.” he gives you a quick wink which sets your heart ablaze, thinking about what the rest of the night will hold. your dinner is probably cold but you don’t care as you’re back in the target clothing section, toji’s words sending a chill across your spine and drying your throat. you both haven’t gotten alone time since then, and, as much as you hate to admit it, you feel yourself getting wet through your panties.

you take a seat after setting out the ingredients for the brownies on the granite counter, and have to cross your legs to prevent your thoughts from getting too dirty too fast…

75 notes · View notes

shayyprasad · 6 months

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i love you peter b. parker | peter parker

pure angst. that's it lololol

summary: you knew you wouldn't be around forever, and you wanted to leave a piece of you behind for him.

i had this idea in mind for some time but i'm only now just writing it but fr i legit almost cried writing this

we love delulu peter

tw: sad peter

angst (for me) isn't easy to write, but i tried my best here. did you like it???

he knew you were sick, he knew you would leave. but it never really hit him that you would be gone someday, that is, until you were gone. terminal kidney disease wasn't fun, and it most definitely wasn't easy. it didn't matter though, because as long as you had peter by your side, you were sure that nothing would go wrong. that you'd be able to fight through it, because the love of your life was fighting alongside you.

peter was always used to saving everyone, so he felt so utterly useless when he found out. he tried to make you as happy as possible, and to help you do everything that you wanted to do most, and make the most of the time you had left.

he remembered the day he asked you out, and you warned him about the sickness, that you wouldn't be here forever, and that one day, he would have to leave you. no, that you would have to leave him.

but peter being peter hadn't thought that far into the future. he was only 16. he didn't know that he'd grow so attached to you, that you become the one for him.

no. that thought had never occurred.

you had passed in your sleep, at least, age 19. it pained him so much to think about everything you had in store for you.

everything we had.

a life, a future, just waiting.

for all he knew, you were his life. you were his future. so how would he go on? how would he do anything without you? especially when you were his everything?

peter stood next to his aunt, clad in all black, watching your mother scream and cry into your father's shoulder, repeatedly begging for you to come back. he watched her lean down next to the coffin and kiss your hair, whispering sweet nothings. the boy wasn't sure if he'd be able to look at you, to say his goodbyes. because it didn't feel real to him. you couldn't be gone. how could you be gone?

"go, peter," aunt may whispered. "you'll regret it if you don't," her voice was fragile, and he could her the pain in her voice.

"no, no, no, i-i can't-"

"you'll regret it if you don't," she repeated.

so with shaky hands and a heavy heart, he walked over to the black box. there you laid, and he tried to convince himself that you were sleeping.

just sleeping.

he got down on his knees and and looked at you. your hair was perfectly laid out, nails freshly painted. the smallest bit of makeup was on you, but you were a deathly pale. your eyes were closed, but he'd give anything to see those gorgeous hues again, lit up by the liveliness behind them.

"hi, angel," he whispered softly, a strangled sob rising up his throat. "your mom is crying. you should wake up now. didn't we talk about getting more sleep at night? so you wouldn't fall asleep all the time during the day?"

peter chuckled quietly. "baby, i remember that time you fell asleep in mr. nester's class. and you snored? it was so cute. and funny. but mostly cute. they're soft and quiet, but if you're listening, you can hear it. your snores are adorable, you know that? it's hilarious because you always say you don't, y/n, but you do. always. yeah. you always snore. why- why aren't you right now? y-y/n?" he asked, panic creeping in through his words. "why aren't you?"

"y/n? y/n? angel? b-baby, wake up, wake up, it isn't funny anymore, stop it, j-just wake up now, please. please!" he was shaking you now, making the coffin rattle. "aunt may? s-she won't wake up! may! please, wake her up... she- she isn't..." he went off again, murmuring things to himself, all incoherent. "i love you! i lo-love you, y/n!"

they had to drag him away.

months later, he wasn't any better. he could hear aunt may at night sometimes, talking on the phone.

"it wasn't like this with ben," a pause, "no, dr. winston," another pause, "he talks to himself. stays up all night. talks to himself, dr., and not even in the way you might see a little kid doing... no... y-... he always looks scared," peter stopped paying attention at that point. "yes, thursday is fine. thank you."

no, he thought angrily, he didn't need a doctor. not some psychiatrists or psychologists. he needed you. but when he closed his eyes and saw may's pained face, he thought that he'd give it a try. for her. for you, right?

then, it had been a year. he was doing a little better, but barely. peter ate more. slept more. had less nightmares.

but he still didn't have you.

some nights he would stand on the top of his apartment building, right on the ledge, and debate ending it all. that way, he could be with you. and then he remembered may. and ned. and mj. how they'd already lost you, and how they didn't need more grief. those nights he'd go back into his flat and lock himself in his room, crying the rest of the night.

another year passed, and he stood in front of your house. your parents were finally cleaning out your old room, and they'd asked him to come over and see if there was anything he'd wanted. they let him in, giving hugs and greetings. peter trudged up the stairs and into your room. he closed his eyes and inhaled, remembering your loving scent.

but he didn't cry. he'd already done that. peter had no tears left. he was empty. numb.

as he analyzed the room, he saw many boxes, and noted that the bed was gone. some frames were still up, and many decorations were removed. on the dresser there was a photo of you and peter. your head was thrown up as you laughed, and peter was staring lovingly at you. it was a picture that neither of you knew was taken, but when you saw it, it became your favorite.

he'd told a lame joke, and you'd laughed. no one else laughed at his jokes, which was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. here, you were at the carnival with peter, ned, and mj. it was a blurry, side-angle picture, slightly grainy as the lighting was terrible. ned had taken it, and while it wasn't the greatest quality, you had adored it, repeatedly thanking him.

peter sat down and pulled the nearest box closer to him, taking out the first item he grabbed. a purple... journal? there was "to peter parker, the love of my life" written on the front cover in sharpie.

your handwriting.

your. handwriting.

he carefully flipped to the front page.

never mind. he did have tears left to cry.

entry 1:

okay, yes, i know, this is silly. and i doubt you'll ever have to read this, but if you are, it means i'm not here anymore, or that you're going through my stuff again without my permission. in which case, put this down.

he felt tears cascade down his cheek, and he sniffled softly.

peter b. parker, i love you. i have loved you since the day that you bought me that coke when i was a quarter short. luckily, you loved me, too, and now we're together. i wanted to do this because i know i won't be around forever. and before i die (if i do) i want to give you a piece of me, and this is how i'll do it.

i love you, peter b. parker.

he flipped to the next page.

entry 2:

in a world of endemic sickness, where cruelty is the cause and love the antidote, the patients declare themselves doctors and seal the fate of the world.

i love you, peter b. parker.

so he kept reading.

entry 6:

because your love is so whole, my missing pieces appear. because your touch carries such passion, what was scarred becomes soft once more. because you are steady and patient, my open wounds have time to seal and vanish.

perhaps that is why they say love is such magic, this gift from the universe, this sweet addiction to the man i was born to find. for with my twin soul, the only other born in the same flame as i, we are able to bathe one other in warmth and light as easily as we breathe, immune and oblivious to darkness.

i love you, peter b. parker.

entry 14:

i love you like you're the last of my kind. it is as if you speak the same language as i, yet no other is able. to be around you is like finally not being alone - as if all my life i've been isolated, in a windowless room, in a doorless room...

and then suddenly you walk in as if strolling over a summer meadow. how is that you are so much more than sunshine? how is it you breathe life when no other can? why is it you are my medicine? who could love me more than you? so, my love, know this - while i breathe i am yours in mind, body and soul.

i love you, peter b. parker.

entry 27:

you said that meeting me wasn't like a new song, but like opening a book and finding a language you'd never seen before. i want you know that i feel the same way. your love is something beautiful; meeting you is like meeting an enigma.

i don't know how you exist in this world yet you do. so let me tell you now - i will always love you in mind, body and soul. you are the trap i've been wanting to fall into my whole life; liberty from you would simply be an infinite prison. i am the softness you seek and you are the cradle for my head and heart.

i love you, peter b. parker.

entry 42:

love quotes inspire, golden strands of truth in an age of cynicism. yet for me they can never adequately capture the strands of emotion that tumble through the air whenever my my heart turns to you.

love after all transcends time, distance and even mortality. love is the greatest wonder of our age, weightless and invisible as it is. the wordsmith brings a beauty to the love, elevates it yet sometimes this very pedestal brings us to romantic notions too heady for ordinary life.

i love you like the nascent leaves of spring love warmth; i love you like the ancients loved the night sky; i love you like a cool draught of water on a summers day. love cannot be fireworks for an entire lifetime, though we've had our share. love must flow quietly, peacefully, always remaining strong.

love is nothing like finance, we don't give a certain amount to get something back; we simply give. love doesn't lead us to chide or sulk when we feel the lack of it from our partner. it shows us how to bring life and fire back to their soul, to love them back to their true selves and wellness. so, do i adore quotations of love? i do; but for me love is more... it is the greatest power we can ever know. anything else is a cruel and empty distraction.

i love you, peter b. parker.

he let himself get lost in your words, in your love, paying no attention to anything else.

entry 136:

if any one moment in time anchored my soul, creating a tether to this plane of reality, it was the moment i fell in love with you. i realized that i had a protector born of pure love and how could i not love that? how could i not love all that you are? you are the rope and knot to this vessel now in safe mooring. for that, i will forever be yours. in these words i hope you find your truth.

i love you, peter b. parker.

entry 200:

i love you, peter b. parker.

and that was the last page. he took two things home that day. the photo and the journal.

"i love you, too, angel," he whispered on his way back home, to no one really. maybe to the wind, but either way, he knew you heard it.

#tom holland x reader #spiderman #tom holland #peter parker #angst

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maccreadysbaby · 6 months

Text

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

*deep inhale* ah, yes, the smell of approaching chaos

part thirteen

❝ AQUAINTANCES ❞

SATURDAY — AUGUST 8 — 4:30AM

ASTEN SLEPT ON THE LEFT SIDE OF BENTLEY’S KING BED THAT NIGHT.

He envied the way Asten could fall right back asleep after everything he’d been through. He was all curled up under Bentley’s gray comforter, his black and blue hair sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the dark sheets.

Asten had been eerily quiet since the car ride. Bentley didn’t blame him, not at all. Bruce didn’t try to make him talk: he only asked him a few things, like if he needed anything to eat, or his preferred sleeping arrangement. Everything offered was quickly declined and he made it clear he just wanted to go to bed.

Neither he nor Bentley changed their clothes, they just crawled up into his bed and laid there, with one lamp on, in silence.

And that’s exactly what Bentley was still doing. Asten had fallen asleep long ago — the sun was probably going to come up in an hour or two. Maybe Bentley would’ve been able to rest if his sleep schedule wasn’t so screwed up.

He’d been sitting up against the headboard, mindlessly playing games on his phone, listening to Asten’s even breathing. There wasn’t much left for him to do but sit there and swim in his own thoughts, which had been a strange mix of what would happen if the Secret Keeper found them, wondering if he upset Dick by leaving the hospital bed, what would’ve happened if Tim hadn’t been able to get to Asten fast enough, and a slew of other mildly unpleasant things regarding their current situation.

His first ever sleepover had been brought about by a horror-movie-level supervillain chasing a kid he’d known for five days around downtown Gotham. Given what his life had held so far, he should’ve expected something like that.

Bruce had poked his head in once, and Bentley just sort of waved at him. They exchanged a few texts afterwards, but it had been a while since then, and Bentley hoped he went back down with Dick. Dick deserved having his dad down there with him.

When the clock struck 4:33am, and the after-patrol bedroom doors had been closed for a while, Asten stirred, humming incoherently.

Bentley glanced over at him, watching him shift around until he pulled the comforter up and over his head.

He mumbled almost incoherently in Portuguese, running all his words together. “Não… não. Por favor, não leve minha mãe embora. Por favor, não a leve embora.”

“Asten?” Bentley questioned, shifting slightly to face him.

“Não. Por favor. Não a tire de mim. Eu não quero ficar sozinho…”

Bentley reached over and tapped at the wiggling blankets. “Asten.”

A few seconds later, Asten’s head popped out, hair a mess, and he blinked. “Huh?”

“You were talking,” Bentley replied quietly. Asten cringed, so Bentley added: “Not in English.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced over at his glowing clock. “Four-thirty-four.”

“Ugh,” Asten grumbled, tugging the comforter back over his head. “You haven’t been able to sleep?”

“No,” Bentley replied. “I slept for a while after school.”

Asten’s voice was muffled under the blanket. “Guess I was really lucky your sleep schedules botched, huh?”

Bentley glanced over at the Asten-shaped lump in the blankets.

“You would’ve been okay,” He tried.

“You and I both know I would’ve been dead,” Asten replied, pulling the blankets off of his head. (Which made his hair even messier.) “It might be scary to think about, Whittaker, but you answering that phone probably saved my life. For real.”

Bentley said nothing. Most of him wanted to disregard that, to say that surely Asten would’ve been fine, but there was a small part of him that knew he was probably right.

“And I realize I’m staying at your house within like, a week of meeting you, and that’s kinda weird.” He continued, bringing the blanket back over his head. “So, sorry.”

“It’s not that weird,” He stated simply, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “I mean, you’re my friend, aren’t you?”

Asten let out a huff of a laugh. “I’d like to think so. I knocked out a bully for you and you kept me from getting murdered, I’d say that surpasses the acquaintance category.”

Bentley shrugged. “I guess I’m just not the best at telling who likes me and who doesn’t.”

A moment of silence passed, and Bentley’s mind lingered on Damian.

“I guess you never really know. People can be fake right up until they’re not,”

Considering that Damian could’ve been fake-liking him the whole time didn’t make Bentley feel any better.

“So, ginger, I’m sleeping next to you and hardly know anything about you,” Asten stated, sitting up slightly against the headboard and pulling the blanket off his head again. “You’re not from Crime Alley or Bristol, you don’t sound like either of those. Where are you from?”

Bentley took in a breath, and let it out. “Drew.”

“That’s the city next to Bludhaven, isn’t it?” He questioned.

“I think so,” Bentley stated, trying to remember all the aerial maps he’d seen on the Batcomputer.

“I’m from São Paulo, a city in Brazil,” Asten explained, pulling his knees up sort of like Bentley usually did.

Bentley shifted against the headboard. “Why did you move here?”

Asten quieted.

“My, uh… parents died a couple years ago. In a car crash,” He said, speaking softer than he had been. “I don’t have any family in Brazil, grandparents or anything. My only relative was my dad’s brother, who lives here. So that’s who I went to.”

Bentley cringed, watching the way Asten’s eyes lingered on his own hands. He really did suck at talking to people, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad,” He muttered, bringing his knees up, too.

“Hey, no sweat, kid.” Asten reached over and bumped him on the shoulder, quickly ridding his face of any undue emotion. “I’m fine. How’d you end up in Bruce Wayne’s house, anyway?”

Bentley quickly weeded through all the things he couldn’t tell Asten, which was basically everything. What was he supposed to say?

“My dad… got arrested… last December,” Is what he settled on. “And my mom died when I was a baby. My dad knew Bruce.”

“Oh,” Was what Asten replied. And then he snorted. “We are some little pity-fest, aren’t we?”

The word pity didn’t make Bentley feel any better, either. But he forced a little smile on nonetheless.

“Why are you in my classes when you’re older than me?” Bentley questioned, desperately trying to change the subject.

“I was homeschooled in Brazil, so credits and stuff were different when I moved here,” Asten explained, shifting so his position was mirroring Bentley’s. “You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

Did anything his father did count as homeschooling? Bentley wasn’t dumb by any means, and he knew the basics of math and stuff.

“Uh, yeah,” He replied. Technically he was, right?

Had he been lying to Asten this whole time? He couldn’t exactly tell him his dad was using him to destroy Batman, and he didn’t really think it was a societal norm to tell the first person you meet that you were abused and neglected for your whole life.

This whole double-life thing was hard. Of course, this wasn’t as hard as when he was trying to do his father’s work, but it was still hard.

“You seem like a homeschool kid,” Asten said with a smirk.

Bentley quirked his brow. “How?”

“Y’know, you just… have that way about you that lets me know you haven’t interacted with many people. It’s not a bad thing,” He insisted. “You’re similar to Nico, and he was homeschooled for a while, too.”

Bentley nodded slightly. (At least Asten thought he was homeschooled and not purposefully kept from outside contact by his abuser.)

“We can’t tell him about any of this Secret Keeper stuff, by the way. Nico. He’ll die on the spot,” Asten said, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Okay,” Is all Bentley replied. With the reactions he’d seen from Nico so far (nearly crying over riding the bus, having an asthma attack over riding the bus, crying in the janitors closet when he wasn’t even the one afraid…) he really wouldn’t doubt it.

A few moments of silence passed. “Hey, Bentley?”

He looked up at Asten, brown eyes meeting green. “Yeah?”

“Have you really not seen her since your dream?”

Bentley shook his head, pulling the blanket further onto his lap. “No, I haven’t. Not even when we went to pick you up.”

“I don’t think she’s alone,”

Bentley pinched his brows together, glancing over at Asten, who was staring off, deep in thought.

“What do you mean?”

Asten looked up at him, then down. “She was branded. Behind her left ear. I saw it in my dream — A symbol that looked like a weird A.”

Bentley sat up straighter. “Whats branded?”

“It’s, like… where you form metal in a certain symbol, then heat it up and burn the symbol onto someone’s skin. Like a mark that they belong to someone else,” He explained. “Luckily it’s not a common thing.”

Bentley squirmed a little in his spot, thinking about being branded by red-hot metal. “You… think she has a boss?”

Asten shrugged. “It’s just a thought. People don’t usually just brand themselves. Unless they’re trying to trick you and she knows I saw it, in that case, I don’t know.”

Another tense silence passed, but the way the gears were turning in each of their heads was nearly audible.

“You said in the car, you wanted your face to be the last thing she ever saw,” Bentley started, glancing up at him. “Would you actually go after her?”

Asten’s eyes lingered on his for a few moments, and something like a storm glimmered in the back of his green eyes. Similar to at school, but not so prominent. “If she’s going to make our lives miserable, then the least I can do is make her’s a hellscape in return. Why?”

Bentley glanced at his bedroom door, thinking of the family beyond.

“Because I…” Want to be good enough for them.

“… Want to help you.”

Asten searched his face for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ll have to beat the police,” He suggested.

Bentley shrugged. “And Batman.”

Asten smirked lightly. “You think we can do it?”

I’ve been trained into a deceptive weapon and living with the greatest detectives in the world, he wanted to reply.

“I think we need a plan,” Was what he said instead.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

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mhathotfic · 2 years

Text

When I said I’m uselessly horny did you expect anything else from me? It’s just a short piece to get back into writing my monster fucking fics

Warnings: monster fucking, breeding kink, outdoor sex in the woods, knotting, primal play, fem afab reader, vaginal sex described, reader thinks of herself as Kiri’s breeding bitch, written with plus size reader in mind

Pairing: werewolf! Eijirou Kirishima x reader

Well past midnight wasn’t the smartest time for pretty twenty something to go running in the woods, really was there any safe time for young woman to go running? There were lot’s of scary things in the woods after all.

Wildlife that could potential kill, plants filled with toxins and poisons. All sorts of nasty things really, so why did (Yn) find herself running in the pale glow of the full moon’s light? Heart pounding in her ears, making them ring like some sort of alarm only she knew of; adrenaline rushing in her veins and swears slipping past her plump lips every time root or rock tripped her up?

Simple her circumstances were unique.

Her pursuer, happened to be her lover who was quite an insatiable beast of a man when he was in this state. She didn’t mind though, she was more than happy to play the helpless damsel for him.

After all, how often do you get to be pinned against a tree and fucked until you blacked out? Who else could say that they’ve happily become their beloved’s breeding bitch? That a literal werewolf, practically straight out of a questionably at best adult novel, was the one doing so?

Hell, even the way they fucked looked like a scene out a novel.

Her hands tangled in thick luscious black fur tinted red at the tips from his last dye job; his mouth on her neck, teeth as sharp as knives sinking in and marking her permanently as his mate. Legs pushed as far apart as he needed to fit his monstrous frame between her thick thighs.

He had tried to be gentle like his more human side wanted but the more she cried his name begging him not to hold back he just couldn’t disappoint her. Fucking into her like he was trying to change the shape of her warm little cunt and growling into her neck every time she babbled about how close she was getting before crying his name out again and again.

Taking his knot so well he swore she was meant for this, to be the bitch she claimed to be no matter how dirty it felt to agree with her on it.

“F-fuck, oh fuck! Gonna cum, gonna cum again, Eiji please!” he snapped out of his thoughts, focussing instead on cramming his knot deep into her one last time for the night.

Carefully dragging her down and pinning her to the ground, legs pushed back with her knees to her chest. Mesmerized by the sight of her tight little pussy clenching around nothing, just waiting to be stuffed full.

He howled in pleasure, burying himself in her and setting a desperate pace. His head teetering back as he indulged in the way her body was practically sucking him in. He was just as close, just as desperate for release as she was.

“God yes!” she monad into his ear feeling his knot slap against her, trying to plug her up “fuck please, Eijirou fuckin’ knot me! B-breed me! Want it so bad please!”

He didn’t need to be told twice, with a loud growl he forced his knot in. Felt her shake in pleasure before going limp against him, babbling incoherently about the little family they’d have soon and falling asleep not long after. He knew he’d be mad at himself later for giving in and going so far, but that was future him’s problem. All he to do was enjoy being knotted with his mate a little while longer.

#eijirou kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader smut #eijirou x reader #eijirou x reader smut #kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader smut #monster thirst

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gretavangroupie · 1 year

Text

Bloom

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: None for now ;)

Chapter One

“She blooms wild and burns bright” - Butterflies Rising

Chapter Two

It had officially been three weeks since you moved to Nashville. Your best friend Amelia had finally convinced you to move in and be her roommate after many months of trying.

You visited her quite a bit as it was and figured you are still young and since you work remotely you had nothing to lose. It was the first time you had lived away from your family and that scared you, but in good way. You would have to learn to rely only on yourself knowing that there was no one coming to your rescue. Well other than Amelia.

Amelia had been your best friend since the 3rd grade. She was the fun and free spirit to your quiet, homebody. She was the sun to your moon. Vastly different but bonded through life.

Amelia not only had a different personality than you did, she was also more attractive than you, or so you and every boy in high school always thought. She was the one with the gorgeous boyfriends while you were always the one in the background. You didn’t mind though. You learned from her. Mistakes and successes, and knew what to look out for.

Amelia had spent much of this past year single, enjoying her new life in Nashville. You wished you could contain even an ounce of her carefree and outgoing spirit. Part of you thinks that it’s why you finally decided to move to Nashville.

She had always called you “penny girl” because in third grade you found a penny on the playground and gave it to her. From then on you became best friends. She called you Pen so often that sometimes you weren’t even sure if she remembered your actual name.

You hear the apartment door unlock, and realize she is home from work. It’s around 5:40, and you know she gets off right at 5:00 but Nashville traffic can be rough to say the least.

“Pen? Are you here?” Amelia said almost yelling.

“Hey! Im in here, as usual…” you replied trying to match her tone.

You spent a lot of time in the third bedroom which you had both decided to turn into a home office for you. Working from home was really nice, but you also felt a bit isolated. It was hard for you to make friends this way, but you figured Amelia’s friends would just become yours too.

A few seconds later she flitters into the room.

“Hey Penny girl how was your day? Traffic was a nightmare.” She said running her two sentences together, almost incoherently.

“Same as usual, too much work, not enough day.” You replied dully.

“Well, what do you say we make something good for dinner and then play on Raya all night?” She asks.

“Raya?” You reply.

“Uh, yeah? The dating app? It’s the one for creatives and influencers. You kind of have to have a big following to be invited to use it. I only have it because of my work social media account. It’s invite only so it kind of weeds out the weirdos. It’s so much fun to look through all the gorgeous men around us.” she says smiling questionably.

Nashville is definitely a hotspot as far as single, beautiful men go.

“Are you looking for a boyfriend? I thought you were enjoying the single life!” you said with air quotes.

“Ugh pen don’t be a party pooper” she said with an eye roll.

“Okay, okay, I’m not. Let’s do it.”

“Yay! I am so excited! Maybe we will even find you a man!” She said excitedly.

“Oh! No, Amelia, I just moved here, I need to settle in still!” You replied, frowning at her.

“We’ll see” she said with a smirk.

It was just past 9 o’clock, we made a delicious dinner and had polished off a bottle of red wine that she had bought for me when I moved in, to celebrate our new adult lives in Nashville.

We were perched on the couch sitting right next to each other. She had her phone in her hands, holding it right between us, and we were swiping left and right on Raya.”

Of course, half of the men she swiped right on were a match already. You both laughed out loud every single time she had a match and made up imaginary scenarios on how the guy would inevitably say or do something that would make you wish you had never swiped right in the first place.

You of course knew a gorgeous man when you saw one, but you weren’t into the overtly masculine types that she was into. After reading a few of the profiles out you realized that a majority of these men were aspiring musicians trying to make a name for themselves in Nashville.

She saw the look on your face when you made the realization.

“They are all like that babe. Every one of them. My advice? Stay away. They are all trouble.” She warned.

“Oh, they aren’t really my type. I don’t think I could ever date someone like that, you know?” You say, looking at her.

She turns up the corner of her mouth, “you never know Pen… you need to make yourself a profile! Oh! Can we, can we please?!” She exclaimed.

“I don’t know Amelia…I don’t have a big following or an invite..” you say with eyes begging her to drop it.

“I can send 1 invite a year! I pick now, and once you swipe through a few guys it will show you more people like what you’re interested in!” She says hopefully.

“Okay, I guess if you’re sure you want to use your invite on me, but it’s not serious and Im definitely not going on any dates.” you say sternly.

About 30 minutes later Amelia loudly exclaimed “It’s perfect!” A cue that your profile was done. She had taken it upon herself to fill out your details, and hand selected what she thought were your best photos. She had always been good at things like this, where it would take you ages to decide. After looking over her selections and making a few minor “about me” changes, you decided that it was good enough. This was just for fun anyways.

The main profile picture was a photo of you from back home, standing in a lush field of over grown weeds and wildflowers. You are smiling but not looking at the camera, just past it. You had on your favorite dress of that summer, a white bohemian Free People number that you paid way too much for. You look happy and carefree, two things you weren’t sure you actually were.

The second photo was a photo of you with Amelia at a concert a few months ago. You had driven down to see her and she roped you in to going to a show. Your hair was down and wavy and you had very minimal makeup on. You hardly wore make up as it is. You aren’t the best at it, so the more simple the better.

The final photo was a photo of you visiting Sedona, Arizona. You were standing on the peak of a mountain, what was arguably the most beautiful view you had ever seen in your life. Decked out in hiking gear and a large backpack, you looked happy and at peace.

Your “About Me” section read:

“Nashville Transplant”, 25, Artist, and a few of your interests and hobbies.

You both laugh a little and swipe through a few guys, none catching your interest just yet.

“Oh, well. Thanks Amelia, I think I am going to head to bed, that wine hit me harder than I thought. I am exhausted.”

“Night pen!”she said.

You do your night time routine, shower, brush your teeth, do your extensively long skin care routine that Amelia has forced you to start doing, you put your pajamas on and climb into your perfect fluffy bed.

You can’t help this nagging feeling that you should just swipe through a few more profiles before you fall asleep.

You reach over and grab your phone off of the nightstand and open Raya. Again you’re met with countless men who just aren’t your type, buff, chiseled and stunningly hot no doubt, just not for you. You didn’t feel like you belonged with someone who looked like that.

After about 10 minutes you find a handful of cute guys and swipe right nervously.

The first, a tall average build guy named Kyle, with blonde shaggy hair, blue eyes and works as a web developer.

The next an average height, moderately fit brunette baseball player with green eyes named Davis.

The last guy is named Josh. He seems on the shorter side, something that has never bothered you. He has brown eyes, curly brown hair and a stunning smile, however it says he is a musician. You take what Amelia had told you into account, but you realize that in Nashville everyone calls themselves a musician.

You bite the bullet and see what happens. You probably won’t even match with these guys to begin with. After a few more minutes of swiping and a few more cute ones swiped right on, you decide to go to bed.

You shoot up suddenly when you hear an alert on your phone. You glance at your alarm clock. 2:27AM.

You look at the offending message on your phone.

~ Congratulations! You Have A New Match! ~

You groan, damn Amelia making you get that app. You silence your phone and fall back asleep.

Next thing you know your alarm clock is going off, 7:00AM comes early. You lie in bed checking twitter for the latest news for a few minutes before you get up.

You slowly make your way to the kitchen to make coffee for Amelia and yourself. She’s already been up for an hour getting ready for work. She does the whole nine yards. Hair, make up, perfect outfit and doing it all before coffee. You wonder how she does it.

You deliver her cup to her in her bathroom and say your good mornings before walking back to your room.

About 20 minutes later Amelia is leaving for work and you are almost done getting ready for the day.

You spend most of the day completely over whelmed with work. You work as a virtual assistant and spend most of your time calling to confirm appointments, schedule meetings or order whatever item your boss needs that day. It’s a very fulfilling job that only someone extremely organized could handle.

Around 3 o’clock you hear your phone ding from the other side of your desk.

~You Have A New Message on Raya!~

You had completely forgot about your 2 in the morning match. You quickly open the app to see who you matched with. Josh. You click on the picture of his face, and it opens the message which reads:

Josh: I am so glad that we matched, you seem lovely! Was that photo of you taken in Sedona by chance?

You take a minute and scroll through the rest of his photos, you hadn’t looked at them before, just his profile photo. As you scroll you see a photo of him standing with what looks to be his friends all huddled up together. One of the guys in the photo could easily pass at his twin and you figure they must be related.

The next photo is of him but it looks to be a professionally shot photo, and you tell your self it must be related to the “musician” detail of his profile. In every photo he is wearing a smile that is one of the most genuine you’ve ever seen. You can tell he has a kind soul.

You think for a minute what you want to say back to him.

You: Hi! I am also glad we matched, I didn’t think I would get any matches to be honest. My friend made me sign up with her one invite. Yes it is in Sedona, good eye. Have you been?

A message jumps back within a minute, almost as if he was waiting for your reply.

Josh: Well I, for one, am I am very glad that she made you. Of course you are going to get matches, you are beautiful. I have been to Sedona once or twice. Do you get to travel much?

You blush a deep pink, and your chest heats up. You weren’t sure you could still do that. It had been a very long time since you had received a compliment from someone who wasn’t a friend or family.

You: That is really sweet of you. Thank You. I travel a normal amount, not as much as I wish I could though. How about you?

You try to keep the banter as light as possible, not revealing too much about yourself too soon.

Josh: I would say that I am afforded the luxury of traveling more than the average person. While I do love traveling, usually for work, and sometimes there is no greater feeling than sleeping in the peace of your own home. Speaking of home, what brought you to Nashville?

At this point you have completely forgotten about the work that you are supposed to be doing. After reading his message you decide that you will answer him back after you finish your work tasks for the day.

Those last two hours went by extraordinarily slow for a Friday, and you couldn’t help it that your mind kept wandering back to this mystery guy, Josh. You kick yourself for letting this happen since you promised yourself this was just for fun and that you weren’t going to take it seriously.

You decide to message him back and explain how your best friend convinced you to move in with her and how the rest is history. You and Josh message back and forth for quite a while exchanging questions and getting to know each other a little better.

Your last message to him was sent 6:17PM, and he usually replied to you fairly quickly since you began chatting this afternoon. You asked about his family and what brought him to Nashville. Two or three hours pass and you continually check your phone but, there is nothing there. You and Amelia finish up dinner and you suggest that you watch a movie to take your mind off of it. Throwing your phone onto your bed, you walk back to the living room and watch the entirety of ‘Legally Blonde’, Amelia’s suggestion of course.

After the movie had ended you both decide to turn in for the night. You walk back to your room, pretending that you’re not dying to check your phone to see if you have any new messages from Josh. You pick it up and turn it over. You have three messages from Josh.

Josh: My brothers and I recently moved here from Michigan. We all live pretty much walking distance from each other so it is really nice.

Josh: I am so sorry to leave you hanging earlier, my phone died right as I got to the studio, and I think one of my brothers must have taken my charger out of my car, the one time I need it of course.

Josh: I know this seems forward but would you like to exchange numbers?

His last message was sent well over 45 minutes from the previous two and an hour had passed since this last message. You thought about how you wanted to respond. Of course you wanted to give him your number, but you didn’t want to seem too eager either. Begrudgingly, you decided that you needed to ask Amelia. You slowly walked to her door and knocked quietly.

“Come In!” She said.

“Hey, I have a… question for you, but please don’t laugh at me.” You said embarrassingly.

“Oh my god what?!” She exclaimed.

“So I matched with someone on Raya and…”

“I KNEW IT!” She interrupted. “You were checking your phone all night! I knew something was up. Oh my gosh tell me, what’s going on? Who is it! Show me!” She bursted out.

“No way, I am not showing you anything yet. I just need your advice on how to respond to this message” you say sternly.

You explain the situation and read out his last few messages, hoping that she would know what to do. After all she does this all the time.

“You need to message him back like, right now! Give him your number! It’s obvious you kinda like him Pen, and he is clearly feeling you right back! What is the worst thing that could happen, I mean you can always block him if you need to” she says. She puts her hand on your shoulder to reassure you that it’s not as big of a deal as it feels. You thank her, say goodnight, and gather up your courage to type a response back to him. Its nearly midnight at this point so you’re sure he won’t see it until the morning.

You: Siblings, gotta love em I guess. Don’t worry about it, I had a movie night tonight anyways. Sure we can exchange numbers!

You type in your number and hit send, heart beating out of your chest. Why do you feel this way?

You set your phone down and do your usual night time routine. It is late so you try to hurry so that you can still try to get 6 or 7 hours. After you finish up you get in bed and turn off your lamp. 15 minutes is your new record. Just as you begin to get drowsy you hear your phone vibrate on your nightstand.

Your heart begins to beat rapidly at the realization that it’s probably him since your friends and family know not to text you this late. You pick up your phone and on the screen is a message from an unknown contact.

Unknown: Hey pretty girl, I’m sorry, I know its late but I just wanted you to have my number too. Rest well.

You could have died right then and there. Pretty girl?! You’re fairly positive that no one in your life has called you such a cute name before. You quickly text back.

You: Thank you, you too. With a smiley emoji.

You set your phone back on the nightstand and doze off dreaming of what could be.

#josh kiszka #fanfic #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #josh kiszka smut #gvf smut #gvf fic #josh kiszka fanfiction

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