#the amount of work she's clearly put in to learn from her mistake...
Photo
#you know what that is? growth
#911verse#daily118#911women#911coc#ebbgifs#911edit#athenagrantedit#athena grant#911#mine.#gifs#athena#flashing gif.#the amount of work she's clearly put in to learn from her mistake...#she loves bobby so much and i'm emo about it
213 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yuu and magic formulas.
I've had an idea in my head for quite a long time about what Yuu sees magic formulas around?
Due to the fact that they have never encountered magic ever in their lives, (neither their ancestors and other genetic chain. )
Is it possible to assume that Yuu feels magic more subtly than the others in TWST? From this we can conclude that the "sounds of ink dripping" for Yuu are heard more clearly and they feel perhaps the smell or taste of ink in their mouth?
As if you were trying to resuscitate a rod from a gel/ballpoint pen by blowing air into the rod through your mouth. And everything went wrong and now you have to spit out ink in your mouth. Please just take another rod
Also a great helper for other students when they do not notice the clouding of their magic stones, and the Prefect points it out.
Somewhere the magic formulas look more detailed and clear for Yuu, at some points they are blurred and written so illegibly that even with all their stubbornness they are not able to.With ancient or more complex magic, formulas look like an overlay of one on another, which makes it difficult to make out at least one symbol that does not intersect with another.
In addition, based on the Masquerade event, there was a thing with which the magic formula was directly connected. And! It could have been changed!!
What is even more curious. How does the magic formula change?
Can Yuu see how magic flows through the magic formula in objects?
Let's say yes.
And this is such an amazing opportunity for the Prefect to earn some pocket money!
Yuu is a girl here.
When Yuu was able to discover an interesting feature of magic formulas, in the form of magic flowing through symbols and pointers, her torment in solving some problems finally came to an end.
She repeatedly pointed out to classmates or Ace and Deuce and Grim that "the formula will not work", focusing on the symbol or pointer that creates an error, which is why all the magic spell contained in the formula is tangled like a ball of thread after playing 10 cats with it.
Additional classes with teachers after classes in order to catch up with their classmates gave some advantage in the basics and the base, which some students either lacked, or was very superficial. Because of what all their efforts went down the drain.
Teachers in general were not against these small "error analysis", because it was more like a repetition of the material passed, rather than cheating.
In addition, the students tried to cooperate with each other, which only pleased the teachers.
For a teacher of magical analysis, it was fascinating to study with Yuu. She was interested in everything and she did not think from the point of view of a "magician"
She had to get out of it, and improvise based on the experience around her. Unfortunately, it was difficult for Grimm to grasp and learn everything, but he still tried to keep up with Yuu.
As a homeroom teacher for Yuu, Crewel was glad to hear a few words of praise from another Professor about the diligence and perseverance of their puppies.
-That's where you have a hole. You indicate a twist for the direction, but put a blocking sign in front of it. …and here. You point the water at the ground. In this amount, you will just make a puddle and dirt around.
-Yuu and will you look here?
Taking the scroll with the drawing, Yuu unfolds and takes out a small magnifying glass to see more precisely the direction of magic. She needed "someone to activate" the formula otherwise she wouldn't see anything.Just a pinch of magic and some mistakes were too obvious. Without magic, it was nothing more than a set of ink on paper.
-There's a mistake here. You write about boiling water, but with such a ratio of pointers, your water simply evaporates before reaching the final part.
-Prefect, what about me?
-Deuce, you don't even need to activate the formula, everyone will see that… you put too much pressure on the paper and overkill with pointers. Write a draft first with a pencil, not a pen….
Due to some "influence" (sad experience) with Azul, Yuu decided to take some money from students for consultation.
At first, only students from the first year turned to Yuu to help draw a more accurate drawing, deal with pointers or a symbol.
Check whether the spell will work or come up with something non-standard.
Her prices were very tolerable, the timing was quite fast and she did her job efficiently and responsibly.
Senior students asked Yuu to make drawings for their course or test papers, with a bunch of thin lines and other details. Some students simply did not have the strength, time, or desire to mess around with all this.
Soon Yuu had to raise his prices due to the huge amount of work.
During one of the breaks, Azul witnessed a very interesting conversation.
A group of undergraduates surrounded the Prefect in one of the corridors, preventing her from passing or escaping.
Looking at the rather formidable and serious appearance of the students, Azul pretended to check something in his notes.
To intervene if the situation goes according to plan and Yuu owed them for the rescue.
Azul would not be the owner of his own business if he relied only on luck.
-So… what do you say about the price? One of the students asked, looking at Yuu.
Meanwhile, the Prefect was skimming through the list -an "Order" for her according to drawings and paintings of magic formulas.A fairly extensive notebook with a bunch of tasks and goals to complete. It was easier to estimate how much time and effort it would take.
-It's quite a lot of work..if the deadlines are tight, I just won't make it on time. - Always honestly answering that she would not make it on time, the students understood how much Yuu could do, and which one would not take even for the largest amount.
-Can we agree on the price?
Suddenly, some kind of enthusiastic light flashes in Yuu's eyes and she enthusiastically tweets the following
-If you all chip in for my thermal underwear, I'll take the order!
For the first time in his life, Ashengrotto felt like all the air in his lungs was knocked out with just one phrase. He had to cough violently to restore the rhythm of breathing.
There was an awkward silence among the students surrounding Yuu.
-T… thermal underwear?
The students muttered squeakily, thinking about something of their own and trying to hide their treacherously red faces.
-Yep! At night, after all … - Yuu immediately looks at the guys with suspicion, quickly understanding why they are so quiet and look very confused. Some covered their faces with their hand so as not to burn so much.
-Boys, these are ordinary pajamas with a turtleneck and pants, and not what you were thinking there…Turn off your rich imagination, please, and focus. - Yuu grumbled and snorted with displeasure, looking at the students.
-Y-yes, of course….
-But why do you need it?
-It's cold in the dorm at night. Everything freezes even under a warm blanket and with Grimm in the heater mode. I need 6 sets. - complaining about her very deplorable situation with a very limited budget, the Prefect thought that it might be worth taking a couple of hundred madols more to take something else from her shopping list.
-6?!so much??
-2 for Vargas lessons. 2 for everyday wear, and 2 more for sleeping. If I take one, it will get very busy and become dirty.
-It makes sense.
-Oh… uh… Yuu?And where exactly did you find this thermal underwear?I would buy this for my sister, she always freezes at home and at school.
-Let me show you a model. There are for different types of figures and ages.
Taking out her phone and finding the right site, Yuu showed what she asked other students about. A simple, plain set similar to the most ordinary warm pajamas.
Never in his life has Azul been able to forget this most stupid conversation with the most ridiculous deal in his life. With this money, you could buy a whole rack of clothes of very tolerable quality!
What infuriated him more was that Yuu had created her own small business right under his nose!!
And by the way, he can do everything 8 times faster. And get a bigger profit than she did in a week!
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 23: In Which Everything is Fine for Once
Twig woke up not to the local staravia performing their morning caroling, or to everyone else in the house snoring, but to the sounds of a meal being prepared. Disoriented, she tried to figure out how she’d slept only a few minutes and yet found herself feeling so groggy. It occurred to her that she slept through not only the night but also the following morning. That explained how out-of-sorts she felt.
Hobbling out of the guest room, she found Grovyle insisting on taking over cooking lunch from Celebi.
“It’s simple math, dear— if you triple the temperature of the oven, the food within it will cook three times as fast!”
“I can’t begin to tell you how wrong that is.”
“Well, I can’t begin to tell you how wrong you are, you silly thing— Oh! Twig, dear, good morning! Or afternoon, if we want to be more accurate. Ark is out to the market to pick up some ingredients we were needing. He said not to worry and that he would be swift about it.”
“Thanks,” Twig croaked, realizing how parched she felt in just that moment and poured herself a drink. Her throat was so dry it stung on the way down, and it tasted like liquid gold.
She spat it all out in horror, of course, when Dusknoir threw open the front door and bellowed, out of breath and panicked, “I came as soon as I found the note! Is Twig alright?! Do I need to find a healer? Where is she?!”
Twig awkwardly raised her hand in a wave where she sat at the table in the corner of the main room, leg in a splint and in no worrisome amount of pain at the present time. “‘Sup.”
Dusknoir’s look of terror gave way to one of concern, then confusion, and finally settled on annoyance. He turned to Celebi, who had zipped into the room at the sound of his arrival. “I thought you said she was likely to lose a limb,” he huffed.
“Ark was the one to make it sound that way, dear. I wasn’t able to revise my note from several miles away once I learned otherwise without leaving Grovyle and Ark to eat each other alive. Honest mistake, no harm done!” She struck an endearing pose, clearly hoping to soften the blow of her forgetfulness.
Dusknoir was unfazed. “All those two do when in the same room is stand in uncomfortable silence. You could have easily traveled over to revise your mistake anyhow— the distance would have been simple to traverse with your having gone the same path so many times before.”
“Aw, but Dusknoir, dearheart, you should have seen Ark when we arrived. He was in such a state I couldn’t bear to leave him.”
Twig squinted at her. “He was only in such a state because you were trying to add dirt to dinner.”
Celebi’s antennae twitched, and she sent her a stormy glare. “Aren’t dignified mortal ladies supposed to stick together, Twig?”
“Good thing I’m not dignified.” She got up from her seat and leaned against the wall to counterbalance against her bad leg. “Dusknoir, mind helping me over to the garden I’ve got in the back of the property? I need to check if any of the plants overwintered well enough or I’ll need to start over once the weather warms up more.”
Celebi sneered mischievously. “But Twig, you don’t have a garden, do you? It’s just a dreadful tangle of brambles back there!”
“I thought dignified mortal ladies were supposed to stick together,” Twig bit out with a dirty look sent Celebi’s way.
“Good thing I’m not mortal!”
Grovyle poked his head into the room. “I’m neither a lady nor dignified, but as a mortal I think it’s my job to tell you two to stop fighting before Arceus smites us all for you two being so obnoxious to each other.”
Celebi put on an innocent expression as Dusknoir offered Twig his hand and helped her outside. She cast the Legend another dirty look and turned away with a huff. Dusknoir let out a snicker despite himself and tried to cover it up as him clearing his throat. The fact that he didn’t have a throat betrayed his misstep, yet Twig pointedly didn’t bring it up despite how ruffled and irritated she felt about it.
Dusknoir paused as she released his hand once they reached the back of the property. “Alright, what was it that you wanted to talk about?”
“I didn’t want to talk about anything. I just wanted to find a stick that I could use to help me get around, and Grovyle would have been an awful nag if I let him know I wanted to look for one myself.” She hobbled around on one leg and began searching for a suitable walking aide, letting out a cry when Dusknoir caught her under the arms and set her on his shoulders. “Wh— Stop doing that!”
“You’re going to break more than your leg if you keep that up. Point me to what suits your purposes, and I’ll do the collecting for you.”
After a moment or two of huffing and puffing in anger about the situation, Twig indicated several sticks to him and cast them aside when they were too weak upon closer examination. “How can you even see anything from up here? Everything’s all tiny and blurry.”
“Considering the fact I’m not a head above my eye, I see perfectly fine,” he said almost boredly as he provided her several more sticks to examine. He then seemed almost startled as he echoed, “Blurry… Do you need spectacles?”
A fuzzy memory of an eye exam in the bunker doctor's office and an empty wallet bubbled up at the question. “Probably. I don’t have it in me to find out at this point, though. Besides, I’m getting by well enough.”
“That’s a very typical answer for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She tested one stick to the best of her ability, and deemed it sufficient enough to try out on the ground. It even had a fork where she could rest her hand. “Hey, let me down, I think this one’s good.”
He did so, though he remained close enough nearby to catch her if she fell as she tested the walking stick. “I mean that you seem to think you’re getting by well enough to handle most anything almost completely on your own, without the help of others.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a worse nag than Grovyle sometimes. I’m pretty sure even my aunt wasn’t as bad as you.”
“That wretch certainly wasn’t doing you any favors in where she was leading you in life, so I’d be willing to bet that’s a compliment.”
Twig fell silent.
“I’m sorry if I was too harsh for your tastes, Twig, but that woman was not a kind soul. I won’t mince words there. It’s a good thing she’s gone, and it’s a good thing you’re here. You…” He paused as she let out a weary laugh. “What is it?”
“I was wrong about you, you know,” Twig said, leaning heavily on her walking stick.
Dusknoir froze.
“I thought you were a scum-of-the-earth kind of person. I didn’t like you, and I thought you were going to hurt everyone I cared about.” She gnawed at the inside of her cheek, considering her next words. “I’ve always been a bad judge of character, though. Thought my aunt was a saint, and look where that got me. So, uh… Thanks. For being a jerk about her. It really helps. I appreciate it, even if you picking me up earlier ticked me off just as bad as the first time you did it.”
He cleared his throat once more— a pointless, nervous sound. “You’re welcome.”
Silence.
“This stick’ll get the job done. We can head back now.”
They began the trek back in silence, but Dusknoir broke the silence just before they entered sight of the house. “You should speak to Grovyle about what you remembered.”
“Yeah.” She felt the inevitable conversation weighing down on her. “I should.”
“If you’d rather I be the one to reveal your memories’ beginning to return—”
“No. No, it’s something I should do myself. I don’t want to mess this up, and I think he’d probably have a heart attack if I didn’t tell him myself. You know him. He’s weird about that sort of thing.”
“He sees you as family, so no, I wouldn’t really consider that weird.”
Twig actually froze mid-step at that. “Huh?”
“He sees you as a younger sibling. He’s said to me that you are closer to him than his own blood kin ever were. He refers to you by name, surely you were not so thick as to not realize—?”
“No, Dusknoir, I don’t go around assuming people see me as more family-like than their actual family, so I did not realize that. It’s not like he ever said…” Her last conversation with him rang in her ears. How she had given him his name. How he had given her one as well. “I mean… A lot of stuff makes more sense now, but I’m still weirded out by you being the one to tell me it.”
“Take it as a sign that you should be the one to tell Grovyle of your memories, then. And please, do so sooner than later. You might seem better rested, but I can tell that you still bear in secret much more than you care to reveal.”
She frowned.
“You can rely on us, you know.”
“I know. You don’t have to remind me.” With a scowl, she muttered, “I’m not having this conversation right now. I’m going inside.”
Dusknoir didn’t walk with her as she stormed into the house. She tried not to feel his absence like something stinging in the center of her ribcage as she entered.
#pmd2#pmd eos#pmd sky#pmd explorers#pokemon mystery dungeon#pmd fanfic#pmd fanfiction#pmd fic#the present is a gift au#pmd#pokémon mystery dungeon
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
Squiggly! My go-to for seratonin! How are ya?!?! We have a mission! Seratonin is needed! So, (definitely for the good of the universe😌✌) Can I please request Switch! Anya and Switch! Loid fluff? For the good of the universe✨
*salutes* Agent Anon- thank you for the mission report! The good of the universe is our top priority here at Fluff Monster Agency; here is the much needed seratonin. Best of luck to you,
Agent Squiggily.
(keakrjkeajkrejk But really; Hey anon this prompt made my heart melt! I love it so much aherjeajkjra I've gotcha covered! :D)
Cloud 9 (Taglist)
@thatbigbisexual29, @dirtpie39, @duckymcdoorknob, @baby-tickles2022, @cupcake-spice13, @backy-san
“Anya, it’s time to study.”
The small girl didn’t respond, eyes glued to the rerun of Spy Wars playing on the TV. When he called for her again, she barely responded, mumbling something while Bondman flew over the screen.
Loid closed his eyes, resisting the urge to sigh. As of now her grades were…undecided. She wasn’t making Stella level scores- if anything she was just barely avoiding failure with each new test.
Still- she was improving. It was little things, but Loid started seeing understanding in her gaze as she took in the problems before her. She still made mistakes, but now she seemed to understand why she made those mistakes. Loid was fairly proud.
Unfortunately, getting her to study was an entirely different battle.
“Anya, we had a deal.” Loid turned off the TV, earning a wide eyed look of shock from his daughter. “Come on, grab your books. I’ll make us some cocoa.”
“But Papa…” She started to whine, pouting when he gave her a look. “Okay…”
“Good girl.” He nodded, watching her go, putting the water on. He needed to find a way to make studying more effective for her. Even at the snail's pace they were going at- she was clearly starting to understand the material before her. It was the distressed expression she wore every time they sat down to work that left him stumped.
Did she not like studying? Was it him?
Maybe it was both.
‘Think, Twilight. She needs help- studying would go smoother if you can make it more enjoyable.’ He tapped his fingers as he brewed over the solution. How can he make it more enjoyable for her? He tried making a cartoon out of the information, but that took a large amount of time and wasn’t very fun-
Fun. That’s it!
“If I make it fun…she’ll learn better.” He mused out loud, taking the kettle off just before it could scream. “Now where do I begin?”
~~~
Anya shuffled out in a cloud of gloom, books in hand. She’d rather be watching Spy Wars- the episode was one of her favorites.
Well- they all were her favorites. But this one was her super duper ultra favorite!
Or was it? She’d have to figure that out later. It was time to study.
Looking up from her thoughts, she paused when she reached the table, finding not Papa but-
“Agent Penguin? What are you doing here?” She asked, immediately taking on her role upon seeing her plush ally. “What’s the situation?”
“Agent Anya- we have an emergency!” The penguin’s voice sounded funny- almost like Papa. “Agent Mama has been kidnapped by the evil wizard!”
“GAH!” She gasped, then covered her mouth. She was a Spy- she couldn’t show such emotion! “That’s not good. Did you see who took her?” She ran up to the table, tossing her books against it. Now was not the time for studying- she needed to save Mama!
“No, but he left a coded message!” On the table sat a piece of paper- a series of equations lined up neatly in two columns. “Only you can break the code, Agent Anya!”
The pink haired girl stared at her homework- expression blank. Ah. So they were studying. She looked up to say just that- but paused.
What if this really was the work of a wizard?
What if Agent Mama really was kidnapped?
Raising her chin, she squared her tiny shoulders, sitting down and taking her pencil. “Hang on, Agent Mama- I’m gonna save you!”
~~~
Loid would pat himself on the back had he not felt a tad embarrassed. A tiny recorder was pinned to the back of Agent Penguin, connecting to a wireless microphone he held in hand as he played his part. He felt bad for using Yor as a prop for his plan- his wife wouldn’t be home for a good chunk of the day, adding validity to his story.
Still- Anya didn’t seem too distressed. Her expression was one of concentration as she worked through the problems he wrote out- familiar ones she’d done before with one a few newer ones to test her skill. The last thing he wanted was her to get frustrated.
“The wizard’s code is proving rather hard.” She mumbled when she came across one of the newer ones. “But I won’t give up. Not for Agent Mama!” Something in Loid’s chest squeezed.
“What part of the equa-code is giving you problems, Agent Anya?” Loid asked, shifting his view just enough to see her page. The answer came to mind almost immediately, along with how to solve it. “I worked in code breaking back in Antarctica. I might be able to help.”
“What’s Anarca?” Anya blinked, looking up. Loid tried not to laugh.
“A really cooooold place.” He drew out the word, making her giggle. “I cracked codes to keep me warm!”
“Okay!” She stood and pointed at her work.
The studying continued.
~~~
“Done! Now what?” She asked, looking at the finished page. All the answers were written, now she just needed to decode it.
“Look, Agent Anya! On the back!” Agent Penguin’s voice made her turn it over, seeing a box drawn on the back. One row was all numbers while the other was all letters. “You have to write the code!”
So there WAS a wizard! Anya felt her heart race, cheeks warming with glee. “I can do this! Hang on, Agent Mama!” She took her pencil, flipping the paper back and forth while she matched word to number. Her adrenaline was racing as fast as her hands; in her head she heard the theme song to Spy Wars playing in the background. This was it! She was gonna save the world!
“What does it say?” Agent Penguin asked as she finished. To her, his flippers were flapping frantically, eyes big with excitement. She looked at her work.
“Wi-Wizawd Of Packles?” She read, brows furrowed in confusion. What did that even mean?
“Oh no…Agent Anya- The Wizard!” Agent Penguin sounded frantic. It was if-
“Muhaha! Found you, Agent Anya!” Someone grabbed her from behind, making her scream. When she saw who it was, she gasped.
“The Wizawd Of Packles!” She cried.
“Ah Ah, little Agent! I am The Wizard of Tickles!” He raised a gloved hand, fingers wiggling. “And with my awesome powers, I shall take over the world! Starting with defeating the greatest agent ever to exist!”
“Noooooo! Paapahahhahahahahhahhaa!” Anya cried as those wiggling fingers found her belly, the Wizard’s power too strong to fight back.
~~~
“Pahahahhahhapahahahhahahaha!” Anya cried in his arms, squirming to and from beneath his hand as he gently tickled her. “Sahahhahahahhve mehehehehehehe!”
“Who’s this ‘Papa’ you speak of? I am the great Wizard of Tickles!” Loid roared playfully, keeping up the gentle touch as she swatted at his chest, little legs kicking at his shoulder. “I have come to defeat the Great Agent Anya! Surrender!”
“Nehehehehhehever! Aahahhahahnya wihhiihihihll nehehehehehever gihiihive ihihihin!” She cried, ever the diligent Agent. “Whehehhehehere’s Aahahhehehehehgent Mahahahhahamhahahahaha?”
“Agent Mama is within my clutches! I’ll never return her!” He grinned, eyes bright with mischief. “Now I will make you give in! Take my ultimate attack!” He brought her up and blew a raspberry against her shirt, shaking with mirth at her shriek of laughter. “Give in, Agent?”
“Nohohohohoho! Ahhahhahahhagehehehehent Pahahhahahahapahahahha, hehehehehehelp!” She cried again, cheeks pink.
Feeling merciful- Loid eased up on his tickles, watching her gasp for breath. “Agent Papa, yes? I’ll have to grab him too! Tell you what- let’s make a deal, little Agent. Surrender to me and become my minion, and I’ll release your beloved Agent Mama!”
“Heh..hehe…y-you mehhehean it?” She asked, looking up at him with big eyes. “And you wohon’t take Papa eihither?”
“You have my word. I will return your agents.”
Anya seemed to consider this. Then she nodded. “Agent Anya will take their place.” She held out her hand, expression serious. “Release them.”
“Very well. You have a deal.” Loid took her small hand in his, giving it a shake. That’s when she smiled a rather devious smile. “Gotcha!”
~~~
“Gotcha-?” Before the Wizard could react, Anya pounced, jumping from his arms to the couch before latching onto his back, her tiny hands attacking his ribs from behind.
“Agent Anya fooled you, Wizawd! Anya took a magic pill that gives her her enemies powas!” She giggled as the great Wizard fell to his knees, shaking with barely restrained mirth. “Take that!”
“C-Clehehehver Agehehent!” He gasped out, giggling helplessly beneath her grabby hands. “Spahahahhare mehehehehe!”
“Hmm…no! Agent Anya has demands.” She nodded, crawling around and clawing at his belly, making him properly laugh.
“D-Demahhahahahahands?” He gasped out, falling on his back as she sat on him, tiny fingers poking and prodding his stomach. “Whahahaht demahhaahands?”
“Agent Anya wants Agents Mama and Papa returned immediately!” Anya nodded, raising her chin to keep up her act. “Anya also wants peanuts! And…that’s it. Do you accept these demands?”
“Ahehehehehahha yehehhehehes!” He gasped out, cheeks red and eyes growing misty. “I acehehhehehept!”
“Okay!” Anya stopped her tickles, smiling down at him as he gasped for breath. “Agent Anya has spared you. Now return my Agents!”
“Vehehery well…” He groaned, reaching up and covering her eyes.
~~~
“Agent Papa!” She cried with glee, hugging said man as Loid appeared before her eyes. The blonde laughed, tossing away his gloves as he held her close, running a hand through her hair. “I’m back. That mean old Wizard caught me by surprise. Thank you for saving me, Agent Anya.”
“I did! I saved you!” She smiled brightly at him. “He had a funny name- The Wizawd of Packles. What does that even mean?”
“I…don’t know.” Looks like she missed one. That’s alright- she got most of it, much to his satisfaction. “Looks like he won’t cause any more trouble for now though.”
“For now…” She murmured suspenseful, earning a chuckle. “Wait- where’s Agent Mama?”
Just as she said this, the front door opened, revealing none other than said woman. “Hello! I’m home-”
“Agent Mama!” Anya ran up to her, nearly taking her down with the strength and speed of her hug. “The Wizard gave you back!”
“The Wizard?” She looked up at Loid, smiling at the growing blush on his cheeks.
“Long story. Hey, why don’t we have that cocoa before I start dinner?” Loid asked, earning cheers from the girls.
Soon the Wizard of Packles became a regular during study nights.
#spy x family#Anya forger#Loid Forger#tickle#tickle fic#fluff#family floof for the soul#these two make my heart squeal ahhhhh
40 notes
·
View notes
Note
Sokkla 13
This will be set after my Sokkla angat one shot "Dear Jealousy"
The fire whiskey burned in Azula's throat as she drink it up in one go. She's starting to feel wasted. Looking at the man beside her, he didn't look like he's doing better than her. She leaned her head back to the wall sighing, before opening up another bottle and sip it down.
"Hey, there princess slow down a bit" said her white lotus co-agent sitting beside her.
"You're one to talk," she replied before taking another sip. "Plus, I need a break that mission fucking drained me" she added. Sokka chuckled at her last statement.
"Well, you're right I really thought the organization set us up to fail for a minute there," before gulping his own alcohol.
"Who knows, maybe they really are but our teamwork was just so impeccable and we survived," she shrugged.
"Damn straight, you still don't trust White Lotus after all this years working for them?" he looked at her half laughing and half in disbelief.
"You can't blame me, for all I know they still hate me" she avert her gaze from him and decided to focus on the stars shining down to them from the balcony of the inn they're staying.
"So does that mean you don't trust me and you think that I secretly hate you, even after being paired with you for like 4 years" he asked her playfulness is evident in his voice.
"That's different. You. You're Sokka" she don't really know what she meant by that, but what she learned after 4 years travelling together most of the time she can trust him and she kinda hate him for making her feel like she can trust him.
His lips curled up a smile at her response as he drink the remains of fire whiskey in his bottle. Azula hated that smile, that look. She hated how she love seeing him stare at her like that. She hated how he can make her heart race and putting silly ideas in her head.
'Cut it Azula, he's in a relationship he doesn't sees you like that' she scolded herself.
"If it means anything, I trust you too princess" he winks at her.
"Ughh, I hate you" she groaned taking another shot of alcohol. She hear him laugh softly at her reaction.
There's a long pause in the moment right there. Silence. Until she decided to break it.
"Have you ever wanted to hate someone?" she asked out of the blue, clearly the fire whiskey is kicking in her system that she's starting saying things out loud.
"Yeah, you" he whispered before drinking his newly opened bottle. She just stare at him, speechlessly. Well that unexpectedly hurt than she thought. But his next words shocked her even more.
"Sometimes I wanted to hate you because you always makes me feel worried about you. I hate how you can easily affect me and making me feel care too much." He's now looking down and judging by the amount he had drink tonight he clearly have no idea he's saying that loud.
"I wanna hate because no matter how many times I reason out to myself it's not the right thing do, I still can't help but fall for you…" still not looking at her while a bitter smile appear to his face. "…but I'm want to hate myself more coz I love you even if I know I shouldn't."
She froze she don't know what to do or what to say. When he turned to face her, blue clashing with gold as they stare at one another. She can feel like there's a force that pushing them closer. His gaze flickered in her lips as he slowly lean to her. All she needs to do is to angle herself up and meet his lips. But then, guilt kick in.
"We're both tired, I think we need to rest" she whispered as she put her hand on his shoulder to put a distance between them and stop them committing a mistake they she knows they will regret once the alcohol subside. When she feel him move away. She quickly stand up.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't hav…."
"No, I understand we're drunk you just get caught up in the moment. Just…..just don't mention it" she cut him off before turning around to enter their room. "Good night" she waved her hand dismissively leaving the water tribesman conflicted.
They will surely have a long journey back home.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Holiday Finale: the Ghost and Molly McGee: Festival of Lights and Saving Christmas Review (comissioned by Weird Kev 27
Merry Christmas Eve all you happy people! We're to the end of our christmas celebrations for the year but before I close up shop for a day or two, we have one last present to unwrap courtsey of Kev: Last year's holiday double feature from the Ghost and MollyMcGee
TGAMM isn't a show i've talked about yet on this blog, but no time like the present, as it's an excellent show. Just watching these eps I often found myself pausing as the animation is just all sorts of fluid and expressive. That's the standard for Disney at it's best granted but this show just has it's own bouncy style all it's own.
The premise is simple: An overly chipper 12 year old named Molly McGee moves to the failing town of Brighton with her family, finally finding a "forever home" after moving around a bunch. She ends up best friends with Scratch, a cynical , lazy and often hungry ghost who the rest of the ghost community laughs at, who makes the mistake of cursing her with "never leaving her"… and soon despite himself ends up genuinely enjoying this friendship while trying to ballnce that with his job of making people miserable.. not a great thing when his best friend is determiend to make everyone's lives better.
The show is a fun comedy, helped by the fact it's leads are two of my faviorite voice actors, Ashly Burch of OK KO and Final Space Fame and Dana Synder of Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Venture Bros, Jellystone and tons of other stuff fame. It was nice to see Ashly get a lead roll and Dana get a lead roll agai, so I was already on board but the show is enjoyable, inclusive, and fairly funny, so I liked it. I'm horribly behind on season 1b, but i'll get to it before the years out. The show made my top 20 episodes list last year and for good reason, so it's nice to have at least one more season of it.
So that brings us to today's review: last year they did a holiday special but nicely, we got a holiday treat as Ghost and Molly McGee is the first show i've seen in a while to do a full on Hannukah special!
Yeah while i'm not Jewish myself, i've had a fondness for shows helping my dumb ass learn more about a holiday, having grown up with Rugrats Passover and Hannukah specials. It's just nice to help kids learn there are more holidays than christmas and what exactly goes on in those holidays, and spoilers this won't be the last special that isnt' Christmas. And I do love Christmas, I just feel other holidays deserve love too especailly with all this war on chistmas bullshit> The world is wide enough for all holidays and I shoudln't have ot say that but given it comes up every year.. yeah , I do. So put on your yammukah as we have both a happy happy hannukah and a merry christmas in the same episode with Festival of Lights and Saving Christmas.
Festival of Lights:
It's the final night of Hannukah, and the McGees are visting Book Marks the Spot, the Stein-Torres' bookstore. As for that name, i'm.. not a fan? I like the store itself, as someone who loves little independent book stores and used to work at one, in fact that's where I got my complete set of TinTin and first edition of the Colour of Magic among many other treasures due to having an insane amount of credit form working there. It's just the name is…
Like I get it's a pun on both x marks the spot and Bookmarks, but it just dosen't work. Like… the store isn't pirate themed. I mean books are a treasure, but if you wanted a piratey name that didn't necesarily require a theme just call it hidden treasure books or something. Not everything has to be a pun. It's ran by Libby's mom Leah, who weirdly isn't named on the episode itself but is on the actual wiki page for her. I assume this is a Boonchuy Parents situation where they were named later via word of god because you can't just.. mention that in episode? Please? Make my job easier?
For those new here Libby is Molly's Best friend/probable love intrest, a somehwat shy girl Molly's age who loves beat poetry and clearly molly. Look i've never been subtle in my shipping, i'm not starting now.. though if your new then welcome to the thunderdome bitches! Seroiusly though the two just play off each other really well, are really sweet together, and the list making episode where Molly has to tell Libby.. comes off entirely romantic in Molly's not wanting to loose libby. Could be intentional, could be untetional, we've still got a season to go.
Molly tries to be supportive.. though mostly she just googled hannukah and readas she goes while Libby looks on apprceatively. Scratch is also there but he was dragged there, like the surly teenage sons the McGees never asked for but welcomed into their home anyway since he was there first and having a ghost meant they could get some money back.
Things quickly take a turn though as the lights go out. The good news is that Mrs. Stein Torres has a generator and that Chucky was busy chainsawing someone in half this holiday season, so their safe. The bad news is that it only has an hour of fuel, though people still flock to the store for warmth and Mrs. Stein Torres is happy to have them. MST is played by the incomparable Pamela Adlon aka…
Though Bobby is, rightfully, her most famous roll and one of her best, Adlon has a rather long and storied career in voice acting: She's voiced Dewey Duck (Quack Pack), Spenelli (Where I first met her), Milo Oblong, Brigette Murphy, and Dr. Joanne on the now cancelled Tuca and Bertie. In addition to that she wrote and starred in the amazing FX Comedy Better Things which I highly recommend and is a talented and wonderful person.
If your familiar with the story of Hannukah you likely know where this is going: As with the oil in the temple under siege lasted 8 days instead of one, giving us 8 nights of Hannukah, the generator will last for 8 hours, with a story for each hour.
Hour 1: Scratch is ready to just run out until he finds out Hannukah involves foods in fried oil. Scratch then sings a whole musical number about fried food while Libby tries in vain to get him to use the actual names. still it's adorable, esecially to see him hang out with Libby for a change, as well as relatable since I too will stuff my face iwth anything fried.
Hour Two: The kids and Scratc h play Dreidel. I still don't quite know how it works, but it's fun to watch the kids all loose it as they all loose, cumilating in Libby winning the gelt and Scratch being pissed off to find it was choclate. Are we sure Scratch isn't just my ghost sent backwards in time and through space? Are we positve on that?
Hour Three: Libby has a spelling bee and asks the McGees to spell Hannukah, which has 16 diffrent spellings. Neat to know, one of the weaker segments
Hour Four: We then get one of the stronger ones, as Libby introuces the Miracle Box, a box where you put in a miracle that happened to you this year. It's a really sweet concept and one i'd love to try. We get the jokes you'd expect: Sharon's miracle is the van is still running, while Darryl's.. is that he didn't get caught. ("It's best you don't know"), while we get some sweet one: Molly's is natural meeting scratch, Libby's Mom's is Libby (She apparently does this every year), and Scratch's, which he spends the segement trying desperattley to not have read aloud as he wasn't aware of that part is the entirely sweet "I used to haunt a house, now I haunt a home
Everyone present finds it sweet while Scratch is embarassed.. but i'ts also a nice sign of just how far his character has come in only half a season. While he only admitted it when he didn't think anyone else would eve rknow, it's still sweet to see him accept that this is his family now.. and his life is better fo rit.
Hour Five: A truly excellent bit of slam poetry by LIbby about the tale of Hannukah. Also a nice call back to her talent for it that was revealed earlier in the season> This show has a really strong continuity and I love it for it.
Hour Six: Scratch eats too many Latkes… methinks they didn't have enough time for another segment, but given how serious the segements before and after this one are, it's fair enough.
Hour Seven: We get a really nice, if suprisingly somber segment as Leah talks with Abby, a local baker played by Eden Rigel, sister of Sam "Pull on My Motherfuckin Beads" Rigel. Eden's best known for voicing Boscha on the Owl House. Abby is also Jewish but has admitely not practiced her faith in some time, but seeing the Stein-Torres Menorah reminds her of it and Leah warmly welcomes her to it… and to her family history. As it turns out their Menorah was the only thing her grandparents took with them when they fled Germany from the Nazi's. The show dosen't come right out and say that.. but anyone familiar with history, paticuarlly Krystalnacht, can spot the obvious. It's done painfully well with nice subtly: we only see her great grandparents fleeing with the menorah while a brick's thrown through the window and there's a mob of angry noice.. just enough to get past Disney's censors, but more than enough to get the point across. We also see them as they immigrate, have a son (Leah's father and LIbby's grandfather) and we see a Young Leah light the menorah for the first time> This Menorah is their family legacy an din just two mintues of screentime we see what that legacy means. It's an utterly beautiful piece of animation, just two minutes to show the pride in their history and what they escaped to get there.
Hour Eight: The power finally goes out.. only for power everywhere to kick on. Libby proclaims it a Hannukah miracle, Scratch eats even more latke's and this slam dunk of an episode ends.
Seriously this episode is beauitful, a true masterpiece having both hilariaty and a lot of heart. Only the spelling bee bit didn't qutie work for me. it's a nice educational piece that helps tell the gentiles like myself about the holiday. I may still not get how Dredl works, but I feel warm having watched this.
Saving Christmas:
This being a two shorts show we have a traditional Christmas Specail to follow things up. It's the annual Snowflake Celebration, with the Mayor, voiced by my boy Patton Oswalt and looking just like him, being happy they'll crush perfectborg.. only for the tree to fall apart then catch fire. The Celebration is in ruins and so it seems is Brighton's christmas so Molly decides to find a Donor. Now who in town his rich and has lots of money?
…. okay maybe save him as plan B. For Plan A Molly seeks out Mr. Davenport, played by Thomas Lennon of Reno 911 and Jellystone fame, whose shockingly shot up as a voice actor in the past few years, taking on a lot of rolls. And given his distinctive southren voice, great comedic timing and general awesomeness i'm on board.
Mr. Davenport is the father of Andrea, Molly's rival and general mean girl sterotype. That said.. Andrea is actually on her side for once: Since the festival has a Snowflake Queen Andrea wants the part and as we'll learn it turns out it's not just for the attention or the viewcount as it normally would be for her and frankly this family in general: while the social media attention is nice, she wants to do it to honor her mom.
Mr. Davenport though.. is a.. what's the term for it this time of year… a holly jolly dickhead. Yeah tha'ts it. Think I nailed that. He says it's a time for making money, that giving someone something for free is against his nature and his daughter can jsut photoshop that bitch.
So in the face of such Scoogey opposition, Molly decides to pull a christmas carol.. my third reviewed this year. I did not plan for this when I set the schedule, as I didn't think about Last Christmas! Being a take on it and assume this one was only a take on it for the last act as I hadn't seen this episode till now (I only watched Festival of Lights last year). But no Molly's entire plan is to Christmas Carol the spirit of charity into this bastard.
Scratch agrees because it's bound to be hilarious and he's right: The next few minutes are just Mr. Davenport hilariously not at all getting the points Molly tries to make and Thomas Lennon's delivery is perfect: showing him his past and how his dad wasn't a good father (with Pete and Darryl playing the parts and both ilariously dressing up for the 1880s instead of 1980s.. then just throwing in rad slang to try and compesnte), that his dad was a great buisnessman, showing him the McGees house just has him grouse about how poor they are instea dof how loving they are, and attempting to show his store closed.. dosen't work because it's an ally and Scratch flying him around dosen't scare him so much as make him want more.
While all of this is funny and a nice subversion of the Scrooge story, as well as a well done one: Molly tried to simply use a full bullet points.. not getting how each stop on the Ghost's journey was pointed: Showing him Fezzywig was to both set up belle and to show Scrooge what he could be, his failed romance with Belle reminded him what his greed already cost him, Fred showed him his nephew still love dhim even as he mocked him, the cratchets shoewd him both true kindess and the cost of his greed, and the future hammered both parts home. Each part was aimed carefully at the target. Molly simply didn't know mr. davenport well enough to actually effect him in any way.
The results though.. are terribly sad. Molly has no christmas spirit left, being utterly defeated and not relaly planning to celebrate tommorow. She coudln't save christmas, so the joy that's usually at the center of her is gone.. and given up to this point we've only seen molly this low when she nearly lost Libby, it's painful to see. We've seen her desperate… but we've never seen her out and out give up.
Scratch is naturally pissed off as hell. Not only did someone break Molly.. but on Christmas. So he decides if Mr. davenport is going to be stubborn about this, he's going to get it the hard way. The hard way.. dosen't quite work as just tossing him around only makes him Giddy. Thankfully, Scratch DOES find something that FINALLY gets through this dickhead's thick skull: Andrea, sadly starring at a picutre of her mom, putting the princess dress away and crying her eyes out. Which made me tear up just THINKING about it and finally gets Mr. Davenport to see that ther'es more to christmas. He agrees to fund the festival as you'd expect.
The ending as a result is super sweet, as Molly awakes to find the day saved, the town sings a song, Andrea gets her moment she wanted.. and Mr. Davenport sees you can use money to make merry.. and sometimes.. that's the real magic. Using what you have to help someone else. He also gets a fuckton of social media views from it, and without that being WHY he did it. Karma does work apparently! Maybe it's just if your rich but either way it's a sweet sendoff.
While it had one hell of a tough act to follow, Saving Christmas is a nice sweet christmas special. It's also really damn funny, clever and the ending is genuinely sweet. It's a good time and worth sticking around for after Festival of Lights. While the former is clearly the main attraction here and the better of the two by a mile, Saving Christmas is still a fun take on a christmas Carol and Gives Thomas Lennon a chance to flex his comedic chops. And both are worth making merry over. Have a wonderful christmas time, a happy hannukah and thanks for reading. I'll see you in a few days for the last few reviews of the year.
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
I mean, I may be in the minority in this, but perhaps the reason why it feels wrong for Ash to win the whole thing is because it is wrong?
For me at least, Ash winning in Alola was a huge mistake, and this whole World Tournament Series has been a terrible mess which has completely mocked past series' work towards making Elite Four members and Champions appear on another level to regular trainers and Gym Leaders. The fact that Ash struggled more against Faba in Alola than he did against Raihan - Galar's number 2 trainer - speaks volumes, and Ash beating Wallace mostly off-screen speaks even greater volumes, and the fact that we're going to throw Diantha, Lance, Cynthia, Steven and Alain under the bus for this is painful.
I don't even know why Iris is here either, Ash already beat her this series and now suddenly she's one place higher than him? Did Pokémon's writers really run out of ideas of who to put for a top 8? (not that ranking actually means anything, Ash went up from 15th to 9th in one battle, the writers clearly don't know how ranking really works).
And come on, we all know for whose benefit Alain is here for; the salty fans whose complaining caused the writers to make Ash win the haphazard and underbuilt farce that was the Alola league in the first place. The fact that Ash is going to beat Alain is gonna be sad to watch since people are gonna treat this like vindication that him winning in XY was wrong even though it was narratively the correct move, and that their complaining is the reason the anime has been in such a downward spiral in terms of Ash's journey to mastery since.
Call me old-fashioned, but when I envisioned Ash winning the league, both as a kid and adult, I was expecting something more on the lines of how the Sinnoh league did it: with Ash using every tool at his disposal with actual clever strategy (rather than things that shouldn't work at all like 'Swallowing' a Weather effect away) and no special treatment like Ash-Greninja or Dusk Lycanroc forms or whatever this Aura no Willpower thing is with Lucario which nobody else is allowed because only Ash 'really wants to win'. Also you know, actual effort? Not battles Ash can win in 4 attacks or less, absolutely NOT 'or less'. Also unpredictability, the fact that we all know that Ash is going to face Leon means this whole top 8 stuff is meaningless, there's no fear that Ash will lose like there was with Kanto to Sinnoh, at least then you could feel invested through more than one battle.
Honestly Journeys has been a mess in terms of plot lines, Ash's World Coronation plots get dropped for months of fillers and silly bobbins (which there is a place for, but not at this amount) and then we get 2 episodes where Ash's Pokémon learns a move or power which helps them win the battle the very next episode, and between that Goh's Project Mew stuff also gets dropped and picked up at rare times. Ash's team is an undertrained motley crew of what the writers deem as fan favourite Pokémon, while Goh's team are barely existent and a waste of the Starters given how Goh regularly drops them the moment they evolve and fulfill their usefulness to him, and of course we can't say anything about Chloe because Chloe is barely a character at this point, she's just a vehicle to showcase an Eeveelution from time to time. Team Rocket barely get used too which is a huge shame, as is not actually utilizing Galar, their characters and Pokémon at the proper capacity and esteem.
Tl;Dr? I want Ash to lose, he barely ever loses now and when he does he always gets his win back, he's the Hulk Hogan of Pokémon and it doesn't feel like the anime puts any effort into it anymore, so I'd like to see him get squashed, realise he needs to actually invest in being a proper trainer again and correct the course for whatever the Scarlet/Violet anime is; you didn't need to try and fix what wasn't broken.
#pokemon#pokémon#pokeani#pokéani#ash ketchum#pokemon journeys#alain pokemon#leon pokemon#I needed to rant because I'm getting tired of it#it's not that the entire series was bad I mean Bea was great#but I could easily write a better series than this#Galar had so much potential in the anime#everyone loved twilight wings after all#and sure 'it's a kids show Dan' but I grew up in the BTAS and Gargoyles era#being a 'kids show' is not an excuse for lazy writing
43 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh so beep gets a slap on her nonexistent wrist? That’s it? No wonder she does whatever she wants
Having made it back to Lor, the atmosphere was... relieved, but very awkward. Beep had gone to sulking in the shadows while the adults tried to process what to do next. At least Orbee was asleep in their pillows and didn't have to listen to this. "Hey. Quit getting on her case. She doesn't deserve that." Reverie sternly admonished, though the comment could just as easily be scolding him rather than her.
"Yes I do." Beep muttered from her shadowy corner. "No, you don't." Reverie told her, not sure where exactly to look. "But, to be clear, it's not just going to be a slap on the wrist, either." He added to his daughter's dismay. "nnnnnnnnn…" She groaned, anxiety bubbling up. He'd never really been upset with her like this and it scared her. "Are you going to get rid of me?" The Matter asked.
That question cut him deep, his serious expression cracking entirely. "What?? Beep, why do you think I would ever do something like that??" Reverie implored, though it pained him even more that he could think of a reason. "Because I did something bad." Beep answered. "Sweetheart…" The Dream Fae murmured. He couldn't feel fear like his brother could, but he could very clearly feel an absence. She didn't feel safe.
Crouching by her shadow, he fought his own building guilt to support her. "I'm not going to leave you behind for a mistake. There is nothing that could make me do that." Reverie promised sincerely. This kind of thinking couldn't be left alone, so Lor chimed in as well. "Beep, mistakes are there to let us learn. It’s alright>" She insisted. The Matter was quiet for a moment before addressing her father again. "…you’re still upset." Beep pointed out.
Reverie sighed. He couldn't hide that from her and there was no point in trying to. "Yes, I am upset. I did tell you not go off like that. I'm disappointed that you risked your safety." He detailed. Magolor, who had been trying to pretend he wasn't there, winced in sympathy. "But, I just wanted to help." Beep mumbled. It always seemed like things went wrong when she did that. "There’s ways to help that don’t involve that risk, Beep>" Lor advised her.
"And I'll try to be more open about my ideas for that. I'm sorry you felt like I wasn't doing enough to change things and I understand why." Reverie continued on from the AI. He wished he could just make things better, so she never felt the need to put herself in danger. "…so you aren’t getting rid of me… what are you gonna do…" Beep muttered, resigned to whatever he had in mind.
Reverie paused, finding it more and more difficult to stay firm. "I, was going to ground you." He replied. "Really?" Magolor piped up, raising an eyebrow only to receive a harsh glare from the Dream Fae in return. "A-ah, I mean, you do have a room you can stay grounded in, um… It's not completely finished, though." The Halcandran backpeddled, not wanting to further upset anyone.
"So I have to live underground?" Beep asked, confused by the concept. It might be funny in another situation. "No, it just means you have to stay in your room for a certain amount of time." Reverie explained. "…so like living in the cave." She summarized. Had that been a punishment, too? "Beep, think of it like this, you can spend that time helping Magolor finish your room? Give it the personal touches you want. It’s not great, you did do something, not great, but it doesn’t have to be all bad>" Lor tried to soften the blow as well as she could.
"Yeah, exactly!" Reverie exclaimed, more and more thankful to have some help in this. "Er, just, y'know. Still a punishment." He added. Beep stayed silent for a minute, not particularly cheered up about any of this. "…where’s my room…" She finally asked. Feeling like he could actually help out, Magolor floated over to her. "I'll, uh, just show ya there. I was hoping to get your input on it, anyway, so this works out." He told her, beckoning her to follow him which she did, though refusing to leave the shadows.
After the two had left earshot, Reverie slid to the floor. He wondered if he was really cut out for fatherhood if just grounding her made him feel this terrible. Hopefully, he was actually doing the right thing.
1 note
·
View note
Note
hey! so i love wanda and i was wondering if you could write one kind of enemies to lovers or something like that where reader and wanda don't get along well, jealous scene or maybe a very suggestive fight. very angst but happy fluffy ending please
Enemies to lovers owns my whole gay heart and I CANNOT write it without there being sexual tension so xksksjsks smut alert
@g-cordelia hope it's okay to combine your request with this too so there's a healthy dose of angst and fluff with it
"Please don't go."
"Don't you fucking lie to me."
Warnings: choking, fingering, spanking, strap on sex, mentions of oral and hints at mild injury
6k words
[ masterlist ]
Buy me a coffee ☕
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Your actions jeopardised the whole mission." Steve said sternly before raising his voice when he saw he received no reaction from you or the redhead. "Whatever is going on between you has to stop!"
"You say that like it's ever been any different." Natasha added.
The pair that usually felt like the protective big brother and sister of the team where acing the role of disappointed parents. Admittedly that did make you feel bad, but Wanda showed no signs of giving an apology and you would be damned if you did first.
Natasha and Steve waited for any kind of response from either of you and got nothing. You and Wanda continued to glare at each other from opposite sides of the table, your stubnorness stopping either of you from looking at the two standing at the head of the table.
"Just write up your reports." Steve sighed, giving into the tension of the room before anyone else. If it had been just you, Wanda and Natasha there was no telling how long you'd be in there.
You both got up from the table at the same time, still refusing to break eye contact.
"Y/n stay behind a minute." Oh so they're switching it up to disappointed teachers now. Your attention fell to Steve in a look of confusion although that didn't mean you missed the smirk that played on the corner of Wanda's lips. You cursed her like a sailor in your head and hoped she heard but her back was to you and she was strolling out the room.
"I thought you guys were getting better." Steve sighed as he leant against the table.
"We were when we didn't have to talk to each other." You said honestly. There had been a few weeks prior where you and Wanda had had no missions together and therefore had no reason to talk or train with one another.
"You can't resort to avoiding each other as a way to solve your problems. All that does is make things escalate even more when you're actually together which will inevitably happen. Because believe it or not you two are on the same side and have to act like it." Natasha said sternly. You stared down at the table and thought about how how her words were. But it wasn't like you had that warning before.
When the pair infront of you knew you weren't going to say anything in response Steve filled the silence once again. "You're both suspended from missions until you can learn to work together." He decided.
"What?!" You cried as you snapped your head towards them and stood up. "You can't be serious."
"Deadly." Natasha said. You looked frantically between the two in disbelief.
"Alright." You said finally and clenched your jaw. You turned around and left the room without objection from the two Avengers, heading straight towards Wanda's room.
You never really knew why you and Wanda never got on. Maybe it was because she reminded you so much of the popular girls in high school you always envied while wanting them in your bed...no, it definetly couldn't be that. You just didn't know what.
It didn't take long to get there when you were walking like you were out for blood, that wouldn't be an unexpected result of what you planned. You banged on her door several times in a closed fist so it didn't take her long to answer.
She looked concerned when she opened the door and as soon as she realised it was you that same smirk from the meeting room fell back into place.
"Did they ground you?" She asked as she leant against the doorframe.
"Suspended." You spat. A shit eating grin started to appear but you wiped that off her face instantly. "Both of us."
"What the fuck? I didn't-"
"Yes you fucking did and now I'm paying for it too. You wanna know the best part? We can't go back in the field until we can work together nicely." You said bitterly.
"Why don't they just keep us on separate missions?"
"You can go ask them that later. Right now we're training." You said simply and you grabbed her forearm and pulled her out of her room down the corridor.
"We just got back." Wanda argued but followed you anyway after slapping your hand off her.
"Not prepared to put the work in, witchy?" You mocked, not looking at her as you marched through the compound.
"Don't call me that?" Wanda warned as she kept your pace.
"What are you gonna do? Read my mind?" You continued to taunt as you arrived in the gym and made your way to the mats.
Wanda put her red jacket on the floor and stepped away to take up her position as she eyed you. "I could snap all your bones into pieces so small they could be mistaken for ash." Wanda said stoicly.
"I don't think that's gonna get you another mission." You replied calmly, knowing that while there was a truth to Wanda's words she would never give you more than a split lip or bloody nose in the worst training sessions.
"Don't be a smartass y/n, it doesn't suit you." Your jaw clenched at her words.
Without warning, the entirety of your right arm lit up in flames and was aimed at Wanda in an instant.
You sent a wave of fire her way that she swiftly engulfed in her powers and sent back towards you. She looked less than impressed from your warningless attack.
"That was tacky." She said.
"I know, seemed fitting for you." You grinned but stopped when the red mist surrounded your body and lifted you into the air before a larger wave of fire was sent hurtling down to the redhead. The wall of fire blocked her view of you and subsequently dropped you to the ground as she dealt with the flames.
As soon as you landed and the fire parted you sent another blast Wanda's way only for her to do the exact same thing. You both ducked at the same time, your powers hitting opposite walls and leaving marks Tony would be on your asses about when he found out.
Wanda was clearly thinking the same thing. "We can't use our powers in an enclosed space, especially not yours." She said, her accent thickly woven into her voice.
"Okay then, let's see if Natasha's lessons have paid off." You said as you raised your fists and got into your defensive stance. Wanda mirrored you the way she had been taught and narrowed her eyes.
"They definelty have." She insisted as her eyes flickered over your form to try and identify your weak points already in a very obvious way.
"Just try to keep up." You mocked and swiftly moved to swipe her legs out from under her but she was surprisingly prepared. She jumped up to avoid your attack and kicked her leg out mid air and landed it on the center of your chest. You stumbled back in shock while Wanda looked very proud of herself. The last time you saw Wanda train it was clear she wasn't familiar with close range hand to hand combat. You hadn't expected her to improve so significantly in such a short amount of time.
You gritted your teeth and went for her stomach this time which she easily avoided but wasn't expecting another attack to follow so quickly. She blocked the continuous blows from you until you saw your moments and kicked one of her legs out from under her. Your mistake was thinking you succeeded the moment she was down because she spun around and kicked both of your legs out. You caught yourself partly as Wanda stood up so you were on kneeling.
Wanda's smirk was quick to take place when she saw your position, not missing the opportunity. "You look good when you're on your knees." She quipped.
Your eyes widened at her boldness and a heat rose up your neck that you knew wasn't your powers. You rolled back on the balls of your feet and swiftly stood up to look anywhere but the smug redhead infront of you.
"No snarky remark for that?" She challenged and you charged at her again. Anger feuled your attacks making them miscordinated and all round bad.
"Shut the fuck up, Maximoff." You huffed and made her grin even more at the clear signs that she was getting to you.
One of your punches was pushed to the side and Wanda took the chance to show you just how much she had learnt from Nat. You weren't entirely sure how she even did it it was so quick. Your arm was outstretched behind your back painfully due to Wanda's unrelenting grip on it and made it that much easier to push one of your legs down onto the floor. She held you like that for longer than necessary, soaking up the view of you struggling in her grasp.
"Get off." You snapped and winced when she pulled your arm back more.
"What's the magic word?" She teased.
"Now." You demanded. She tutted and pulled harder. "Maximoff!" You ordered through the pain. She leaned down beside you as her voice dropped to a low whisper.
"Beg." It was one word but you couldn't deny the effect it had on you. It was as though her light breath on your ear shot throughout your body and settled in a place you really didn't want it to.
You were about to object and tell her to stop being a bitch but her grip tightened and she pulled to a point where you thought your arm might just snap off under any more pressure.
"Please." You cried through gritted teeth. She instantly let go all too quickly and you collapsed onto the mat on your front. You heard her chuckle menacingly but cut herself off when Nat appeared in the doorway.
"We told you to write up your reports, not train." Natasha scolded as she watched you massage your shoulder and glare at Wanda.
"Sorry, just got a bit carried away." Wanda smiled, her innocent and sweet act that she put up for everyone except you returning. "Y/n's had enough now anyway." She smirked to herself.
"Fucking psycho." You muttered loud enough for her to hear but not Nat. Her jaw visibly clenched from that making you revel in the small victory as you finally got up from the mat.
"Just get on with the reports." Nat sighed and turned to leave as Wanda called out.
"On it."
"Aww, you trying to be a good girl, Maximoff?" You mocked as the pain subsided and your need to overrule what had happened came through.
"I don't have the time to stress over that, not when I'm busy putting brats in their place." Wanda said as she advanced towards you with a look you had only ever seen aimed at those you were fighting against.
"What?" You whispered as you backed up and felt your back hit the wall. Wanda's hand came up suddenly and wrapped itself around your throat firmly and cut off your breathing. Your eyes widened as you grabbed at her hands but she didn't budge. She looked amused at your efforts as her head tilted slightly to the side.
"And you certainly need to learn your place." She took her hand away and left you gasping for air for a split second before grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the gym.
You stumbled a little as you tried to keep up with Wanda's long strides you could usually match. Your whole body was already trembling in anticipation, more so by the tension filled silence between you both as you travelled through the compound and ended up outside the redhead's room.
She opened her door and shoved you into her room swiftly. You didn't have much chance to take in your surroundings because the Sokovian gripped the back of your neck and forced you to lay on your stomach on her bed.
She made quick work of your clothes, discarding them to some soon forgotten about corner.
You turned your head to the side and gripped the sheets as you felt Wanda's slim fingers trialing up the back of your thighs before she gripped them roughly and forced them apart and lifted your lower half up. Her fingers returned and glided along your drippikg folds, collecting your arousal as she reveled in the effect she had on you.
"What was it that made you this wet, slut? Was it being on your knees for me? Begging me? Or did you enjoy the pain? I bet you enjoyed me choking you too." She chuckled darkly and didn't wait for you to respond.
She slipped two fingers inside your soaking cunt without warning making you gasp out in pleasure. Her fingers curled inside you beautifully, brushing some kind of nerve ending every second they were buried inside you. She had you a moaning, quivering mess in no time.
"Wanda...fuck! Right there, oh God!" She snickered against your skin as she worked her fingers expertly. Even then she wanted to test you. Well it was more that she was setting you up for failure.
"Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear another sound from that whiny mouth." She ordered and you couldn't help but shiver from her dominant nature.
Of course it didn't last long. Her fingers felt so damn perfect inside you and you couldn't help but moan at the unspeakable pleasure.
She brought her hand down fast and landed it on your ass with a harsh smack that echoed through the room. She did it to both of your asscheeks until they were bright red and you were trembling. The sadistic redhead didn't stop there, she continued to rain down smacks that edged you further to your edge with the pleasurable pain.
Soon, you were moaning into the air as you came around Wanda's slim fingers, desperatly clenching around them in an attempt to prolong the pleasure. Thankfully, she kept pumping her fingers inside you, not caring when the overstimulation kicked in. She even started scissoring her fingers inside you, stretching your walls in a way that has you whimper loudly.
"Gotta stretch you a little to get you ready for my piece, sweetheart." She said in a sinister tone. "There's no way you'd be able to take it otherwise, it's already going to reck you with its size." She husked into your ear and withdrew her fingers, spanking you again when you whined.
Wanda got off the bed and disappeared into her closet, shortly returning with a large strap secured around her waist and pointed at you. You whimpered at the sight of it, not sure you could handle its size.
The Sokovian kneeled behind you and gripped your hips with both her hands as she lined up the strap with your entrance.
"I'm going to fill you up so nicely, Princess. Gonna have your cumming in no time." She husked, her voice dripping with lust.
A scream was ripped from your throat when Wanda thrust the entirety of the strap into your pussy. She set about her harsh, abusing pace instantly and preened at the sound of the pleasure filled cries that left you.
She grabbed a fistful of your hair and slammed your head down into the pillows on your side do she could still hear all of your desperate moans. The rough action earned the redhead a cry of her name.
Her pace was unrelenting, everytime she thrust back into you she somehow managed to hit deeper, pounding the toy against the most sensitive and pleasurable part of your cunt.
"Mommy!" You moaned loudly, not realising your slip up until the words left your lips. Your eyes widened and you feared Wanda's response, but what you got was a smack from the redhead that stung your ass in the best way. Her fucked you with increasing vigor too, wanting you title to spill from your lips again. And it did. Over and over, each time going straight to Wanda's pussy.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." You whimpered as you gripped onto the sheets tighter to prepare yourself for your release. But Wanda pulled the strap out the the very tip and held it there as she leant over to whisper in your ear.
"Beg me." She ordered and you whimpered again. It wasn't like you hadn't already submitted to the red head you hated but begging would be something that would loom over you for a while.
Your thoughts clashed with the overwhelming need from your pussy as it desleratly tried to clamp down on the tip that didn't provide nearly enough pleasure.
"Please, Wanda." You whispered.
"Please who?" She asked sweetly, clearly testing you making you groan.
"Please, mommy just let me cum." You whined and Wanda smacked your ass hard. She edged the dildo in further ever so slowly and stopped again.
"Mommy, please! I need to cum." You tried again, desperation seeping into your voice. Wanda hummed.
"I can see that." She mused as she rubbed small circles on your throbbing and soaked clit. "I just don't see why I should, brat." She punctuated the name with a harsh slap to your ass again and you caught onto what she was hinting at.
"Please, I'll...I'll be so good for you, mommy."
"Yeah, baby?"
"Yes! Please mommy I'll be so so good for you. Just please please let me c-" You were abruptly cut off by your own whorish moan as Wanda snapped her hips forwards and filled you up entirely.
One of her hands tangled itself in your hair and forced your head down into the pillows, not stopping your incoherent babbles filling the room along with the sound of your pussy being fucked by Wanda and her thighs slapping against yours.
The Sokovian tugged on your hair again so your head was off the pillow.
"I'm gonna cum!" You cried out into the air.
"That's it, baby. Soak my fucking cock." And with that demand you came harder than you ever had around Wanda's strap and moaned continuously as the redhead prolonged your pleasure by continuing to pound into you.
But it soon became too much for your sensitive pussy. You squirmed away from Wanda but she placed one hand on the middle of your back to keep you flat against the bed.
"Too much." You managed to say, however the redhead didn't seem to care.
"I'm nowhere near done with you, Princess."
*
Laying panting and gripping onto Wanda's bedsheets like a lifeline wasn't exactly what you expected to be doing on a Thursday night. You were drenched in sweat and although Wanda had pulled out the toy minutes prior, you were sure you could still feel it filling you up, the faint throbbing a forewarning of what was to come.
It took you a while to gather the strength to get up. With anyone else you probably would have just stayed the night in their bed, but you weren't sure you could do that with Wanda. Although she wouldn't kick you out, you didn't like the thought of sleeping beside the redhead. It seemed far too...soft? Whatever it was, you were sure Wanda would agree.
You searched for your clothes while she took a most likely deliberately long shower, images of her naked figure covered in water invading your mind.
Once you cursed them away they were just replaced with flashes of what you had been doing for all those hours, remembering how she pulled on your hair as she praised you when you went down on her. Of course you did that while on your knees.
What happened between you and Wanda wasn't a one time thing. In fact it became increasingly common until you were in each other's beds almost every night. You would have been fuck buddies if you had considered each other a friend.
It worked. You and Wanda were able to work out your pent up frustration towards each other in a way that didn't hurt one another....well, if that didn't include the scratches along Wanda's back and the constant aching between your legs.
You didn't even make snide comments about each other in meetings or during training. You were able to keep everything in the bedroom.
The success of what you two had going forced you to ignore the noteable change in feelings you had towards Wanda. You saw her differently but couldn't quite tell how. Sometimes it was as though the unplaceable emotion you had towards her from from start spiked and other times you were purely confused.
It was always most prominent after she made you crash over the edge of bliss or when she came undone beneath you. Those moments when your bodies went limp and you were caught up in each other's embrace because you didn't have the energy to move. Hearing her exhausted breathing match her rising and falling chest and faint heartbeat if you had your head on her chest. Those tender moments were the ones that caught you off guard.
You refused to make a big deal out of it though. You refused to investigate your feelings or even acknowledge them. What you had with Wanda was the most efficient thing you could do. You didn't want to muck it up but you knew it couldn't go on forever. Another labelless feeling emerged at that thought.
Natasha was the only one who knew what you were doing. Neither of you told her, the spy was able to figure it all out on her own quickly and confronted you both about it once, only saying to be careful. That was the only time she addressed it verbally but you could always feel her watching you both carefully when you trained.
You thought it was going great. You and Wanda had finally been cleared for a mission that you would both be on, the team certainly needed the man power. That was until Nat told you otherwise.
"What do you mean I'm not going?!" You exclaimed across the room. You had seen Nat in the meeting room looking up something on her tablet and had gone in to enquire something about the mission that was long forgotten.
"I've thought about it and you and Wanda still aren't deemed the most reliable when put together for a mission, with this one being as important as it is we can't afford to make mistakes." Natasha sighed.
"So why don't you take Wanda off the mission? I have more experience."
"Her powers are perfectly fitted to this mission, we need her."
"And not me." You knew you came across as petty, but you had been dying to go back into the field.
"Y/n." Nat tried but you scoffed and glared at the screens with those assigned to the mission. Your eyes found Wanda's picture first and your jaw clenched at the sight of her ridiculously attractive face.
"What did she say to you?" You demanded as something clicked in your brain.
"She didn't say anything, this is my judgement." Natasha began but you didn't buy it.
"We both know if it was you you would have told me as soon as you decided it. You had no issue with me and Wanda being on this mission before. Hell, you cleared us both for the field." Nat glanced down at her tablet guiltily as she searched her brain for another hopeless lie.
"This is unbelievable." You scoffed and turned sharply on your heels to storm out of the room, ignoring your name being called by Nat.
You soon found Wanda in the kitchen making herself a coffee as she hummed softly. You willed your brain to ignore the warmth you got from seeing the redhead in her own, peaceful world.
"Do you have a problem with me?" You demanded, snapping her out of her trance. She visibly figited when she saw you approach her and lean on the edge of the kitchen island on you hands with an expectant look.
"No?" She said, seeming unsure.
"Don't you fucking lie to me." She seemed startled by your increasing aggression.
"What are you talking about?" She asked as she stirred her drink.
"Don't play dumb with me, Maximoff. You got me off the mission!" Wanda stopped her movements as she froze, clearly caught off guard by your discovery. Given how Nat had acted you guessed you weren't meant to find out it was Wanda who said something.
"It's for the best." She finally said but avoided your eye.
"It is not your place to decide what's best for me, you don't get to do that." You argued.
"There should only be a few people on the mission." She tried.
"I know that, I've seen the intel. But we already discussed that those people should be powered. Why am I being taken off?" You demanded again.
"It's dangerous." She muttered as she stared down at her drink.
"It's my fucking job. You think I don't know that."
"Of course you do, but there's a bigger risk than the usual missions we've been on. A bigger risk of you getting hurt." She muttered the last bit, like she wasn't entirely sure she wanted you to hear her. Granted, Wanda showing concern for your safety was new.
"Any one of us could get hurt." You said, lowering your voice marginally.
"But it's you I'm worried about." She insisted. It was your turn to become uncomfortable, shifting slightly under her gaze that held something new.
"I can take care of myself." You said as you crossed your arms, feeling a sudden defensive need to protect yourself.
"I know... but I care about you." You exhaled slowly, becoming increasingly uncomfortable at the tone of her voice. "If something happened to you..." She continued, "I don't know what I would do." Her voice was barely above a whisper, the softness laced in it undeniable. It sparked something in you. Something you didn't want to accept.
"Good luck on your mission, Maximoff." You said through gritted teeth and went to leave but Wanda was behind you instantly and took ahold of your hand to pull you back.
"Wait, I wasn't done-"
"Well I am." You snapped and yanked your hand out of her grip.
"What..?" She said slowly.
"If you don't want to work with me then we won't, no need to keep fucking anymore." You huffed and went to walk away.
"That wasn't what I-"
"Stop!" It wasn't a cry of anger. It was pure desperation. Your pleading look took Wanda by surprise and pained her to see. "Just stop before you say something you can't unsay." You said shakily. Your unspoken message was received. You didn't want to hear about Wanda's feelings towards you. She just didn't know it was because you were afraid that it would uncover what you had been feeling all along. You couldn't handle it. You were scared.
Wanda nodded, defeated, and let you go. You were filled with grief as you walked away, your footsteps feeling heavier than usual. You wanted to look back, to go back to her. But you couldn't.
*
You distracted yourself with a particularly ruthless training session the day of Wanda's mission. Carol showed you no mercy in sparring, weight lifting and boxing - even encouraging power use every now and then. But your mind still wandered to the redhead the way it usually did.
When you finally collapsed on the mat in defeat Carol chuckled and tossed you your waterbottle before encouraging an ice bath and strolling out of the gym for her evening flight.
You stayed on the floor for a while after you finished your water, only stopping staring up at the ceiling when Nat's outline blocked the lights. You sat up and looked at her hopefully, seeing that she was back from monitoring the mission and didn't seem distraught or upset.
"How did it go?" You asked as she sat down across from you.
"It was a success." She said but she didn't seem all that happy.
"And everyone's okay?" You asked cautiously. Nat gave a half shug and sighed lightly.
"There was ice - a lot if it and it was so cold. Dangerously cold." Nat started. You tried not to clench your jaw or show any signs of annoyance, knowing there was no need to point out that mission was fitted for you and your powers that would have guaranteed everyone's safety.
"Wanda got a little cut up, it was impossible to fight on that ground." You eyed the door and bit your lip, refraining from giving in to the urge to go see her.
"She doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, but she needs seeing to the cut." Nat said as she placed a first aid kit down infront of you. She was back already? And why did you have the kit?
"She won't see anyone either." Nat said before you could verbally question her. It took a moment for you to understand what she was saying.
"I don't think she wants to see me, Nat." You said as you pushed it back her way only for her to toss it into your lap.
"Goddmit, y/n. Can you two stop dancing around each other and actually talk?!" She exclaimed.
"We tried that-"
"Talking, y/n, not shouting or arguing. Talking." She said firmly and got up before you could protest further.
You pondered over what Natasha said for a while. You knew she had a good point, that talking was exactly what you should have done from the start, but it was just another thing that frightened you.
"Your job is facing your fears." You muttered aloud to yourself.
You finally got up from the ground, first aid kit in hand, and trudged along the compound towards Wanda's room. You tried to figure out what you could say on the way. But it all came out a jumbled mess that made no sense. Multiple times you stopped in the hallways and considered turning back before convincing yourself to keep going.
You knocked softly on Wanda's door and was surprised that it opened for you. The redhead in question was sat on her bed with a pillow in her lap, fiddling with her hands the way she always did when she was anxious or deep in thought. That evening it was both.
She glanced up at you as you closed the door but turned back to her pillow quickly when you gave her a short smile that didn't quite meet your eyes.
Regardless, you cautiously walked towards her bed and sat down next to her with the small box between you. You brought one of your legs up under you so you could face Wanda and eyed the cut above her eyebrow in concern. She still didn't say anything, neither did you.
You opened up the small box and got out a pack of wound closure strips and carefully unwrapped one. Wanda didn't object to you gently holding the area around her cut as you placed the strip on and lightly smoothed over the edges until you were sure it would stay on.
"I let my emotions cloud my judgement." She mumbled as you prepped another strip.
"It happens to all of us." You said.
"But I didn't listen to you. I should have." You sighed and stopped unwrapping the strip to look up at the redhead and watch her closely. She looked back at you with a guilty and pained expression that was full of regret.
"Yeah." You nodded slowly as you went back to the medical tape and raised your hands to put it on but the Sokovian held your wrist to stop you. "What's done is done, so just let me put these on and we're good." You said but she still didn't let go.
"Just like that?" She questioned.
"The mission was a success. If I'd had been there you wouldn't have gotten hurt, that's all."
"You were really mad though." She continued and you put your hands down to rest them, not failing to notice that Wanda was still holding your wrist but with a much lighter grip.
"It's hard to stay mad at you." You admitted.
"You've always been mad at me."
"Well it wasn't exactly like you were the friendliest person to me." You pointed out. "I was never mad at you, Wanda. I just hated that... that you made me feel something I've never trusted, so I didn't trust you. It was never your fault, I was unfair." You admitted as you stared down at the tape the whole time, afraid to meet the redhead's eyes.
"What did you feel?" Wanda asked, her voice void of emotion making it more difficult for you to say. You gulped as you continued to stare at the tape, willing yourself to give Wanda the answer she needed. The answer she deserved.
"Love." You voice shook. "I loved... love you." You were shaking more as you finally looked up at Wanda. Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted like there was a million thoughts trying to be heard but without the ability to.
She didn't say anything for a while. A long while. She stared at you in disbelief then at her pillow as though it would give her all the answers.
Tears rushed to your eyes that you tried to blink away as your head swam with curses to yourself for admitting your feelings. You had opened up and been vulnerable to Wanda, and the result was the exact reason you had sworn to never do it again.
Once you were sure she wasn't going to say anything to you, you took it as your cue to leave. To leave so Wanda could prepare her rejection speech for you. However, as soon as you put your hand to the door she spoke out.
"Please don't go."
You turned around slowly and met her light brown eyes you had always found impossible not to get lost in when you had your fingers or tongue inside her. You timidly went back to the bed and paused before sitting down next to her, facing the wall instead of her this time.
"I thought it was one sided." She started and you felt yourself begin to shake with nerves again. "I thought you didn't love me back." You looked to Wanda quickly and searched her features for any signs of a lie, any signs that she was setting you up to push you down but she was gazing back at you longingly with tears glistening in her eyes.
"When you confronted me about the mission, I was going to say it then, you knew that." You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded, remembering the fear you felt in that moment.
"I wasn't ready, I thought I wouldn't ever be but," You took a deep breath "I want to try, for you." You took ahold of Wanda's hand to reiterate your point. "I care about you too Wanda, so much. More than I could ever express or even handle and I didn't know what to do about it. I mean we've tried a fair few things now," You both laughed a little, "but it I don't think any of them are going to work as well as accepting it and...and I don't know." You looked to her for guidance because fuck did you need it. You needed Wanda to guide you down whatever path you chose to take, as long as she was there with you.
"Maybe we could start with something small." She suggested with a small smile that made her eyes shine.
"Like a coffee date?" You tried.
"Exactly like that." She confirmed, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Then I'll pick you up around 2." You said cheesily making Wanda laugh. "But first, I have to finish tending to this cut." You declared as you turned around to face her entirely and crossed your legs under you, pausing for a moment to give Wanda a short and sweet kiss.
#wanda maximoff imagines#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff angst#wanda maximoff fluff#enemies to lovers
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
It's where my Demons hide
(A/N): This was requested by an anon and the amount of work I put in... let's just said it's way more than I do for uni
Summary: After a case going south and unfortunate events, Spencer's sister is trying to defend the demons on her own. But she learns that she doesn't have to
Warnings: usual CM stuff, abduction and torture, brief mentions of addictions to drugs/heavy medication, blood, suice mentions, killing, we are meeting and old friend, hurt comfort, heavy angst, please tell me if there is more
Wordcount: 4k
✨Masterlist✨
___________________________________
When Derek met Spencer's sister for the first time, she was an 18 year old teenager with a bachelor degree in sociology and master in criminology while working on her thesis in psychology. This moment he asked himself what they put in Las Vegas' tap water or are the siblings just aliens trying to mimic humanity but failing miserably. To this day he keeps asking himself this question and still doesn't have an answer, even though he works with both siblings side-by-side for quite some time now.
"No Spencer, you totally and always ate all of the granola bars we had at hom-" " My lovely Sweethearts, we got a new case!" Penelope cuts the siblings’ playful fight off, running straight to the roundtable room. Looking at each other, Spencer and (Y/N) communicate about how bad this one will be. They agree it will be a rough one, it’s just a feeling they both share.
Emily, who watched the interaction go down, shakes her head. The bond these two share is too deep and complex for an outsider to understand.
“Alright, this one is so icky, it makes me want to cover our smart girl’s eyes,” Penelope states before starting the slide show, getting a few laughs and smiles from the team, except for (Y/N). She groans, tired off all the teasing. After all, she just had her one year anniversary of being with the BAU, so one might think the team is getting tired of making fun of her age. But no, a 23 years old will not catch a breather in this unit of the FBI.
“Oh, this was fun. But what’s coming unfortunately won’t be. You will fly nowhere, because this case happens to take place in our own backyard. This UnSub is targeting prostitutes as of now. Three were found in different alleys all over Washington D.C. They all died because of blood loss. The UnSub cut through the main arteries on both their wrists.” While talking Garcia goes through the slide show, presenting the pictures to the team.
“Looks like he disposes of them like trash, clearly showing his thinking about women,” Rossi analyzes upon seeing a picture of a disposal site. “Maybe he also thinks of them as dirty? These alleys and dumpsters are not in the best part of the city,” (Y/N) theorizes. Derek nods his head. “But let’s also not forget that he chooses a relatively painful way of killing, feeling yourself bleeding out is another aspect of his torture method.”
Emily thumbs through the reports already given to them on their tablets. “How long is his cool off period?” “Barely three days,” Hotch answers,” and from what we know this can change quickly. JJ and Rossi, I want you to go to the first dumping site and work your way through to the most recent one. Prentiss and Morgan, you go to the ME, find out if there are other wounds except for the cuts on the wrists. Garcia, look the victims up and gather where they were abducted from. Reid-”
“Yes, Sir?” “Hotch?” Both cut Aaron off and turn their head towards him, ready to get a task assigned. It’s still a common mistake, calling one name and having brother and sister answer.
“Spencer,” he corrects himself," I want you to build a geographical profile based on the information you’ll get from Garcia. (Y/N), you come with me to the police station. You will be introduced to the Captain there. Everybody else, dismissed." Quickly the team scrambles to action.
"Did you do something wrong, Sir? If so, please tell me I'll work on it I promise." (Y/N), tries to keep up with her boss’ fast pace, who walks into the direction of the elevator. "Why should I be mad at you? You do an excellent job, there is nothing to complain about." She looks at him confused. "B-but you are benching me. You only do that when someone is in the figuratively speaking dog house." She splutters out.
"(Y/N), no. You didn't do anything wrong. I just want you to meet the Captain we are usually working with when we get cases in D.C." Just like her brother, the young woman isn't someone who easily meets new people. Hotch is sure she will try to stay cramped up in the office for the rest of the day, doing solely any intellectual work she is given.
"Captain Montgomery," Aaron briefly greets the tall umber skinned woman. " SSA Hotchner, why do we always meet when there is an awful crime happening in our city?" She asks, shaking his hand. Before he has a chance to answer with another floskel, (Y/N) explains the reason.
"Given the fact that both of you work in law enforcement, which per definition works when a law is broken or will be broken to guarantee law and order, it's more probable that you meet during an investigation then when being on a simple walk, especially given the number of people living in D.C. and the number working in law enforc-" "I see, you got yourself a new genius. What did you do with the other one? Is he in the repair shop for robots?" Captain Montgomery cuts off the young woman and turns to Hotch. Awkwardly (Y/N) puts her hands in her pockets, realizing she's just geniusplained something pretty trivial.
"This is our newest agent Special Agent (Y/N) Reid. SSA Spencer Reid is still working for us, You don't need to worry about him." The Captain sticks her hand towards the other agent. "Oh, I assume you are married to SSA Spencer Reid? You look pretty young to be married to someone." " Oh no, I'm not married, Spencer is my older brother. Can't imagine marrying that guy. Also, I don't shake hands. The number of pathogens passed through a handshake sometimes keeps me up at night." The older one musters her with a depreciative look. "Now I see the similarity."
Not long after this the team meets up again at the bureau, each sharing their findings.
"The cuts on the first victim were hesitant, but graduating through to the third one he seems to get more confident. Besides that there are only some shallow cuts along the body," Morgan tells the others, looking over his notes to make sure he doesn't forget anything.
"The dumping sides show the exact things we assumed. The UnSub disposes of his victims like trash. He didn't even try to hide it, It's just like throwing trash away for him," JJ explains the observations they made. Now everyone turns to Spencer, who stands in front of a map. Patiently he explains the meanings of the dots and circles he drew.
"The UnSub grabs prostitutes from the same area. Garcia found out that all of them worked in the same part of the city. This means he has a hunting zone he is comfortable in. But the disposal sites are chosen at random, as if he once drove by and just decided on that place." "It seems like," Rossi thinks out loud, "our UnSub somehow is connected to the area he hunts his victims in."
While the team continues to throw some ideas around, (Y/N) can't help but feel like she already has seen some parts of the case somewhere else. But it can't be. She worked with the BAU for a little over a year now and none of the cases they had in that time were anything like that. She continues to mull over where she has seen it before, ignoring what the others are talking about.
No, she hasn't seen it. It is something the young agent was told once. It was like a story. A story told to her.
"I-I gotta go ask Garcia something," she tells the others briefly, exiting the conference room with a quick step. Since she does practically run into the bat cave, (Y/N) is out of breath as she stands right next to everybody's favorite tech genius. "Oh my, girl wonder, are you chased by somebody? Personally, whenever I see a Reid running, I start to run too, because none of them participates in any kind of physical activity voluntarily. There must be a serious reason for one to run."
"Previous cases, dead prostitutes, D.C." The young woman huffs out, trying to form words from the thoughts going faster than light. " Oh, work, I got you girl wonder," While saying that Penelope is already clicking the keys on her board. "And we got a case from 2006. Prostitutes were killed, because the UnSub wanted to clean the city from them. Right, I remember that one. But why are yo- Nathan Harris?! How did you know about this?" Confused, the blonde turns towards her colleague.
"Spencer told me about this a few days after the case happened. He went for a visit in Vegas and took the trip to MIT. He told me about the case and how Nathan Harris tried to take his own life by cutting his wrists. I- Do you think this could be him?" " I'm pretty sure it's him," Penelope gets up from the desk chair, takes her laptop and runs with (Y/N) back to the conference room. They catch the rest of the team up with their findings while Garcia tries to find a current address for him.
"OK, I got three addresses. One at his mother's apartment, a work address and an address for a hut in the woods." Hotch nods at the information. "Emily and Dave go to his work address. Morgan and I take the hut with Spencer. And you, (Y/N) and JJ, will check out the mother's address."
Not long after this the two women arrive at their assigned address. After knocking on the door several times there still isn't an answer. JJ looks at (Y/N) getting a nod from her. "FBI, open up!" Again they are met with silence.
The two agents get into position before JJ kicks the door down. Silently they decide who goes into which direction. The apartment is dark, so they are on high alert. Every little sound makes them jump up.
JJ slowly makes her way through the kitchen until she stumbles over something. Alerted, the blonde looks down taking a few steps back in shock upon seeing over what, or who, she nearly fell. Dead, scared eyes are looking at her. Eyes she has seen the last time five years ago. The rest of the body is nearly unrecognizable. It is covered in blood and stab wounds, the anger of the killer is evident.
"(Y/N)! I found the mother!" Jennifer shouts towards her friend. But there is no answer. Not even when she shouts for a second time. And then a third time. As she goes for fourth, she feels a sharp sting in the back of her head, the whole world going dark suddenly.
"JJ? JJ?! Thank god," A voice says in relief as she opens her eyes. Emily is standing above her, hands holding JJ's head, trying to access the wounds. "(Y/N)" She gulps. "(Y/N) is not here. Nathan Harris, he took her." Prentiss tells her.
After getting checked out by an EMT, JJ goes back to the FBI building with Prentiss to regroup with the rest of the team. As they exit the elevator the blonde spots her best friend. As quickly as she can with an ice pack pressing down her neck she makes her way over to him. Guilt is eating her from the inside out alive. Guilt, because she couldn't save his best friend's sister from getting abducted.
"Spencer, I'm sor-" " You can save it. Rationally I know that this is not your fault. It was a routine investigation with a low level risk. But low risk doesn’t mean zero. Statistically spoken this was not your fault even though the odds were in your favor. Emotionally, I am furious at you. The same thing happened to me once and I can't imagine any of this happening to my sister. Yes I'm relieved you're alive. But I only want my sister back. So please just help me get her back. I need to know that she's OK. I'm-I'm just scared of any of the things I had to live through- I don’t wish that upon my worst enemy. And this is my sister we are t-talking about." At the end his voice cracks and he desperately wipes his eyes. Spencer doesn't even dare to go down the rabbit hole of the what if’s. His feelings already are killing him.
What's really killing (Y/N) right now is the major headache of getting hit from behind. Accessing her situation she's sure that she has at least a mild concussion and some serious bruising going on. After that the young woman starts looking around, taking in the environment and evaluating the situation. This is until a curly haired man around her age enters the room.
"Oh, you are awake. Good. Better than good. Because now you will give me some answers. And every time you refuse to answer me with the truth, the truth only, I will hurt you. Like seriously hurting you." While talking he tauntingly walks his way up and down in front of the young woman flashing a razor blade. "I- Are you sure you wanna do this? I'm not the kind of person you usually seek out to kill." (Y/N) says to irk more information out of their UnSub.
He laughs maniacally. "No, you aren't, still you are the person I'm needing right now, Agent Reid, little sister of the infamous Spencer Reid, but not any less smart. Now tell me: Did your brother know he saved a future murderer five years ago?" Her eyes widen trying to come up with an answer while she tries the ties that bind her to the chair.
"No, all he knew was that he saved a young boy scared of himself. I'm sure even if he could, Spencer still won't change a thing about the decisions he made in that motel that night." Suddenly Nathan turns around facing the scared girl.
Because that's the only thing she is right now. Not a genius, girl wonder, sister, colleague or tough agent. Just a scared girl hoping to see her family again.
"He told you about it. Spencer told you what happened. What I did. So would you have acted differently from him?" His eyes are never leaving hers, even though he still moves in front of her. His jitters are from clear excitement, which disgusts and scares (Y/N) more.
For a second, only one second, she hesitates to answer. But Nathan still notices it "N-" "DON'T BULLSHIT ME!" With that he begins to slice her clothes and skin, letting out the anger he is holding inside of himself. Satisfying his needs by seeing another human being in pain once again.
By the time the team finally bursts through the doors of the moldy basement (Y/N) has lost a lot of blood and begins to feel woozy.
"I-is that you, Spencer? Am I hallucinating again?" Spencer looks at his sister with worried eyes. "Yes. Yes, it's me. I'm here physically and mentally. I will not leave you." After tying her loose he shouts for medics, which quickly come and do their work.
The whole stay in the hospital, which consists of three and a half days, the young woman is not alone for a single second. Her brother hovers over or besides her the whole time, telling the doctors and nurses which tests to run and which medications to give. Spencer even uses the FBI- and I-got-a-doctor-title-card to stay with her at night.
Those short hours, in which he is away to get clothes and a quick shower at home, somebody from the team is there to keep their youngest member company. The first time JJ sits with her, showing pictures of Henry and Will on their latest trip together.
"(Y/N), I'm sorry,” she suddenly cuts herself off from the pictures and looks at her with a guilty look. Tears are starting to stream down her face. “It's my fault you lay on this bed with blood infusions and beeping machines around. All of this is my fault. If I just were more aware on what's-" (Y/N) cuts her ramblings off. "No, this could have happened to anyone. Hotch, Morgan, Emily, Rossi, anyone. Don't, please I beg you, don't feel guilty over something that's completely not your fault. I'm OK, I will be fine. I live and that's all that matters." After that JJ feels much better, needing to hear those words by (Y/N) herself.
The next one sitting with her is Penelope, who brought a bunch of plushies, candy, a laptop and movies. "Girl wonder, I swear if you do something like this again I will die because of too much stress and worry. And now eat the candy boy wonder is not allowed to know about and hush. The movie is starting." Penelope tries to play down the cracks in her voice, just being relieved that they found the second resident genius in time.
Rossi comes by quite a few times telling stories about his own injuries, but assuring (Y/N) that she takes it much better than he did.
Hotch orders her in his tough Unit Chief voice to stay away from the office until the day she is cleared by a doctor and not an hour sooner. But his face tells the gist of how at ease he is now, knowing how she is doing.
Emily and Derek stay with (Y/N) at the same time, distracting her by playing different card games. By the end of their visit Morgan claims he let her win all the time, too proud to admit to being beaten by someone who is several years his junior.
All this company is nice, but she still is happy to be back at her own apartment, able to catch a time of quiet and silence uninterrupted. “Are you sure you are ready to be alone again? I totally don't mind sleeping here on the couch or taking you to my apartment." Spencer asks his sister, still worrying about her. "Yes, I still am sure. Thank you for the offer, Spence. But I need a bit of alone time to comprehend that all, you know?" He nods, having felt the same way many times before.
So he leaves. Finally (Y/N) can catch her breath. Still she tries to keep herself busy by doing laundry, cleaning the apartment, cooking dinner and reading a book or three. When it's finally time to go to bed there's not a peaceful minute that night for her. Or the following one. The one after that. In fact even in the daytime (Y/N) is not able to sit down calmly.
She becomes restless. Behind every door she feels like someone is watching her, waiting for her, only to knock out and abduct her again. Nights are even rough. Her ears wait to pick up a noise, any noise. It keeps her up all night. And even when she falls asleep the nightmares come to haunt her. A figure slicing her skin, putting salt into the wounds and laughing maniacally. It's the same every time and makes her wish for the heavy medication she got at the hospital.
Eventually (Y/N) gets her physical clearance to get back into the field. The psychological one? Let's say it pays being one of the people who wrote the questions for that. She thinks getting back to work will help her comprehend what happened. Helping people will make it better. That's not the case. The young agent grows even more restless. After one case is solved there are at least 50 more, no end in sight.
She starts to get snappy, getting off at the smallest things or comments. Once she even butts heads with Hotch, something nobody ever considered to be possible.
It all comes to a showdown in a small town with a small motel. The team has to double up because they are not enough rooms so Spencer takes one with his sister
He lies awake, waiting for her to fall asleep at night. But even when the clock strikes three, her tossing, turning and sighing hasn't stopped. Finally giving up on trying, (Y/N) gets up.
"Where are you going?" Her brother asks, making her jump, since he caught her off guard. "I just need some fresh air. It's a tough case so my mind won't stop thinking. Maybe fresh air can help me." (Y/N) tries to shake it off and puts a sweatshirt over her sleepwear. Spencer is not having it.
"It seems like every case is a tough one for you." Immediately she jumps up to defend herself. "What are you talking about?! Are you saying I'm not able to do my job right because I feel empathy for the victims?"
He also gets up, looking at his sister and answering calmly. “I'm not saying such things. It's important and good that you're feeling for the victims. After all, we, and you, are still human. It would be worse if you don't feel anything at all. But right now you're feeling not empathy. It's sympathy. Because you are also victim yours-"
"Stop. No, I'm not a victim. I'm doing fine, I'm good. What happened is part of the job and if I can't take this I'm not fit for the job." (Y/N) words come out as rambles sounding like something she had told herself several times over and over again.
"(Y/N)" Spencer says softly, taking his little sister, the person he has sworn to protect to the best of his ability, in for a hug. "You have seen and will see horrible things on this job. We all have and they still haunt us, these experiences. Especially what you went through. The kidnapping and torture is not something you will work through alone and not in one day. You need help. But you will not get better if you don't admit it to yourself and others. Just because you need help doesn't mean you're not fit for the job. We all need it from time to time.
"After Tobias had kidnapped me, nobody was able to help me with my demons and addiction, because I was not ready. I had to come to the conclusion myself that I have a problem. When you are ready to let us help you, the whole team, and especially I, are here to catch you falling into our arms. Together we are strong enough to catch you, to care for you, to work through all the things that happened to you, to fight your demons with you and to get you all the kinds of help you need."
The kiss he presses onto the side of her head is enough to make (Y/N) collapse into Spencer's arms, finally allowing herself to cry and mourn the part of herself she left in that rotten basement for the first time since she was saved.
As promised the whole team is there to help their youngest. If one of them is hurting, everybody feels their pain. Even though it's a difficult path of overcoming and adapting to the trauma, she's always met with nothing but full support from the whole team. May it be time off work, temporarily moving in with someone else to not feel lonely or just a shoulder to cry on, or a pillow to let the anger out. With the BAU as your family you are not alone to take onto the world and your own demons.
After that conversation with her brother (Y/N) sees a light, a light that she fights to get to, because it’s the part she is missing for too long. The peacefulness she once possessed.
Taglist:
All works:
@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki
Criminal Minds:
@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x female!reader#spencer reid x sister!reader#reid!reader#x reader#x female!reader#x sister!reader#spencer reid#reader insert#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#angst#hurt/comfort
337 notes
·
View notes
Text
36 Questions to Fall in Love
Summary: When Derek bets Spencer that he cant make someone fall in love with him in a week, he doesn’t expect Spencer to marry the girl the next day
warnings: strangers to lovers, blind dates, betting, talks of: drug use, drug addiction, abusive marriages, rape, sexual assault, abuse, attempted murder, mass shootings, parental death, love confessions, elopements, opposite of slow burn
word count: 8K
A/N: this is based on a request I received a while back about this article
Derek was a betting man, to say the least. He knew Spencer was from Vegas, he also knew Emily couldn’t say no to a challenge and that Rossi had enough money to burn. Betting at work was the best way to have fun when he worked there, and now he can’t stop.
“I’m not saying con a woman into loving you, I’m saying let us find a girl and let’s see if she can fall in love with you, take a week off from work and just spend time wooing her, and in a week, me or Emily will hit on her, if she turns us down for you, then you’ve won.”
Derek explained it like it was simple, and yet the mere thought of being set up with someone was horrifyingly nerve-wracking. But he got Spencer to agree… unbeknown to him that he had another bet going on the side.
You see earlier that day he was invited to Penelope’s apartment, her younger sister was moving in for a little while and they needed a big strong man to help move the boxes. And like Penelope, Y/N was really chatty and overly friendly really fast. It was like he’s always known Y/N Garcia.
She explained to Derek how hard it was in California to find good men who want someone to love them, she’s tired of guys thinking she comes on too fast, she wants someone who wants to settle and have kids and be a dad. Not a Vain narcissist who only cares about what the city can offer him.
“The last guy I went on a date with literally ran when I mentioned I read a New York Times article about 36 questions to make you fall in love… I just want a person to love? Is that really so hard?”
A lightbulb goes off in Derek’s mind, and Penelope almost reads it.
“Spencer.” They both reply with the same cheeky grin.
“I bet you, you could be as insane as you say you are and he’d still be in love with you by the end of the week.” Derek teases, and the way she smiles shows just how interested she is.
—
Woo her.
The words have rattled around in his brain every second of every moment since Derek said he found a girl for him.
She was free on Saturday, all Spencer had to do was tell Derek where she should meet him and all Penelope had to do was not mention to Spencer that she had a sister, it was up to Y/N when Spencer learned that fact.
She’s already there at the restaurant when he arrives, he’s not sure what he was expecting when Derek said he found the perfect girl but it wasn’t this. He was thinking it was going to be a joke, that either no one would show or Derek was hooking him up with some hot blonde who was way out of his league.
She was beautiful in a nice dress, her makeup was stunning and she looked so content sitting there, waiting for him. Starring her ice water with a straw, she wasn’t paying any attention to the room, she barely knew he was there.
“Hi?” He said softly, not wanting to startle her.
“Hi,” she beamed up at him, that same unsure look on her face. Neither of them was expecting anything from the other, but they were pleasantly surprised.
“Spencer Reid,” he says, actually extending a hand to shake her’s because it’s the chivalrous thing to do.
She reaches out her hand, watching him take it and kiss her knuckle softly, she’s so surprised. “Oh, um, Y/N Garcia,” she whispers the name and his eyes go wide.
“Garcia?” He panics a little, sitting down in the booth and facing her as her face drops at his reaction.
“Did he not tell you I’m Penelope’s sister? I knew Derek was up to something,” she looked like it was all too good to be true, upset almost.
“He didn’t, he probably wanted you to tell me, I mean this all so we can get to know each other,” Spencer shrugs it off, interested in seeing why Derek picked her of all people.
“I guess,” she smiled again, “so what do you do?”
“I work with Penelope, I specialize more in psycho-linguistics and geographical profiling.”
She nods in approval, “I’m a high school English teacher.”
Spencer laughs lightly, “what’s that like?”
“Interesting to say the least, especially in California. Every kid there wants to be on TikTok, no one cares about reading any of the books I ask them too,” she just shakes her head. “I’m worried about the next generation.”
“Me too, it’s almost alarming how many kids are unsubs,” he agrees. She’s so easy to talk to, he’s suddenly not nervous anymore and the waiter is coming to take their order.
He never even opened the menu, “what looks good?” He asks Y/N, nervous and she can tell.
“I think I’m going to have the lobster, let’s go all out?” She shrugged again, both of them feeling more adventurous than normal.
“I’ll have that as well,” Spencer smiled, keeping eye contact with only her as she handed the menus back to him.
They ordered sides and appetizers, stuffed mushrooms and fresh bread, it was amazing. They traded small facts about each other, Spencer noticed a lot of Penelope’s quirks in her, she was very friendly and kind and funny. She loved to tease him and make him laugh, his stomach hurt by the time their lobsters came out.
“I’ve never done this before,” she admits, putting on her bib and holding the claw cracker in one hand.
“Neither have I, but I think it’s fairly simple you just need to apply the correct amount of pressure,” he demonstrates by picking up the crustacean and cracking it at its weakest point before twisting it open.
He’s surprised he did it, so is she as she copies is movements and struggles a bit. “You got it, come on,” he encourages her as she squeezed so hard her hands shake but the shell does eventually crack.
She smiles like she just won the science fair, overly proud as they stare at each other. Enamoured already by just how cute the other was.
“So, what do you do for fun outside being a fed?” She teases between bites.
“I like to spend my time finding new things, I tend to go to the same spots often but I’m always looking for new places. I like the theatre, the old cemetery is nice, I’m excited for the new phantasmagoria to open this fall,” he explains all his interests as he cracks away at his dinner. “I just like to try and appreciate what’s out there, after everything I see.”
“That’s really nice, I’ve always wanted to go to a phantasmagoria actually, science magic is the best kind of magic,” she says it like it’s nothing, almost embarrassed by the interest.
“Me too, I love magic,” Spencer lights up, “I can actually do some magic, hold on.”
He digs his NA chip out of his pocket, showing it to her quickly before making it disappear and reappear behind her ear and she was so smitten, “how the heck?” She asked as she reached for her own ear, shocked at the fact he could do it.
“Do you always keep a coin on you for that?”
He thinks about it for a second, not knowing if he should tell her or not. “No, I keep this on me for support.”
He places it on the table, she picks it up instead and inspects it carefully, “2 years is a really long time, I’m really proud of you.”
He feels like he falls in love with her in that moment, she places the chip back in his hand and smiles, “it’s not easy to admit nor recover from, it’s something you should be really proud of Spencer.”
“Thank you,” he blushes, “um, is there anything else you want to know about me?”
She bites the inside of her lip as she thinks, “actually I was reading an article the other day that said there are a list of personal questions you can ask someone and by the end of all of them you should be in love with the person.”
He thought it was a good opportunity to take a sip of water, upon hearing the word love he realizes it was a mistake. He chokes lightly, coughing as he puts the glass back down and apologizes.
“Love?” He repeats the word.
“I’m going to be real honest here Spencer, I don’t date to get my heartbroken, I date to find my life partner so if you’re not interested in marriage or kids one day tell me now,” she’s very stern about it and he can tell she’s gotten her hopes up and heart broken before.
“I want that too, I just didn’t expect you to be so upfront about it,” he’s honest, because clearly that’s what she wants from him. “What was on the question list?”
“Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” She asks, remembering the questions easily.
“Wow,” he takes a moment to think about it, “alive or dead?”
“Sure, why not,” she shrugs.
“Probably biological Eve,” he comes to the decision rather quickly. “I’ve always been fascinated with the fact all humans can be traced back to one single women. I’m sure she was amazing, it must have been so interesting being the first women on earth.”
“That is the coolest answer anyone has ever given me,” she smiles, “I think I’d be boring and have dinner with Julia Roberts.”
“She’s a very talented actress,” he smiles, recognizing the name from Penelope’s movie nights. “Um, I have an eidetic memory, do you have the list I can just read it once and then we can spit it back and forth easily.”
She looks at him with wide eyes and a growing smile, “yeah hold on.” She takes out her cellphone and pulls up the article before handing it to him.
He reads it quickly and then hands it right back, she was amazed, surely it was a joke? “Would I like to be famous?” He repeats the next question to himself.
“No,” he’s very certain. “I’ve had some encounters with psychopaths who think they are my biggest fans, perfect match or my only rival, and it’s not fun. I’m sure being adored is lovely, but I don’t like the attention if it’s not from a good place.”
“So you want praise but you don’t want a stalker?” She dumbs it down slightly with a smile, “I definitely don’t want to be famous because I don’t like other peoples opinions about me.”
“That’s incredibly fair.”
“Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say?” She asks the next one.
“If it’s for work or my mother, yes,” he answers it completely honestly. “I prefer not to make phone calls, so when I have to make them I typically spend the day before panicking.”
She smiles, “well, if you ever need someone to call tech support and pretend to be you, I am really good on the phone.”
“Like Penelope?”
She nods, “we spent a lot of time talking on the phone when she moved to Virginia for your team.”
“That must have been really hard, I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned you yet?”
“I’m not really her sister,” she smiles, “I wish I was. I met her during a really abusive relationship and I didn’t feel close to my parents anymore, so my old name didn’t feel right either. Penelope and her brothers were the closest thing I had to family, so I took their name after my divorce.”
“That’s beautiful,” his smile is so soft, she wonders if he feels the same about Penelope.
“What do you consider a perfect day?” She moves on before she can pry into his personal life further, just to pry into his personal life further— in another direction.
“Nobody dies.”
“Even the bad guys?” She squints as she asks it, wondering if that was an appropriate topic for the first date.
“I’m not a fan of the prison system, and I’m really not a very big fan of suicide by cop, let alone lethal injection,” he explained. “Just because you’re a murderer or a psychopath doesn’t mean you have to die too, there is rehabilitation and a way to keep them sane and alive while keeping people safe. I just hate when people die.”
“Me too,” her smile is sad, “my perfect day would be having my parents back, I’d like to show them my degree and go out for ice cream and give them another hug.”
“We should have our perfect days back to back,” his voice is low, he was nervous to say it. “Cause then once you bring them back, I stop people from dying and they can stay forever.”
He sees her heartbreak as the tears well in her eyes, “that would be nice.”
“Um,” he clears his throat and then takes a sip of water. “When was the last time you sang to yourself, or someone else?”
“I was singing in the car on the way here,” she smiles with a sniffle, “I sing a lot actually. I’m always humming or tapping as well, if my mind is wandering then it has to make some kind of noise.”
“What is your favourite thing to hum?” He can’t stop himself from asking it, “I personally do the muppets, duh duh nanana, manamanah.”
She laughs again, and a tear slips out as her eyes close. She hurries to wipe it away, “I often find myself doing the teletubbies song, you know; ‘Tinky-Winky, Dipsy,’” she sings the words before humming the tune to match.
“That’s a good one too,” Spencer is really enthusiastic suddenly, the way he would be with Penelope. He was really comfortable. “If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?”
“Mind, because that’s how you keep a good body. If I can keep the strength and willpower to get up in the mornings and go to work and remember why I love being alive, I’ll be young forever,” she answers like it’s rehearsed.
“I was going to say I’d want my mind too, but the way you said it is a lot more elegant,” he teases. “My mom has Alzheimer's, you were honest about wanting kids and you should know that's genetic. I can also pass on schizophrenia and any other mental illness, like depression, bipolar disorder and most definitely anxiety—
“Spencer,” she reaches across the table for his hand, “breathe, that’s not scary to me. My grandma had it too, I’m not optimal gene-wise either.”
He takes a deep breath, “Sorry.”
“It makes you real to react like that, I don’t mind seeing that side of you. Fake strong men and men who compensate are the worst, in my opinion.”
“Mine too,” he agrees. “I am an anxious worrier, I barely sleep, I’m terrified of the dark, I have PTSD nightmares about my short stay in prison, and I cry a lot when I’m alone.”
“It was a mistake clearly? The prison stay, that is.”
“Yeah,” he nods, moving to the next question. “Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”
She laughs through her nose at the switch topic change, “well until I was 19 I thought my husband was going to kill me, then I thought maybe it would be myself, now I’m content dying in my sleep when I'm old.”
“It is ever-changing,” he agrees. “I have died before.”
“What did it feel like?”
She doesn’t ask how, she knows he was sober, she knows he’s been to prison, she knows he’s an agent. It wasn’t a surprise. Penelope even almost died once before, it was an unfortunate part of the job.
“Warm.”
“Like soothing warm, like drinking a hot chocolate, or that uncomfortable warm like being in a hot car?”
“Like a hug.”
Her lips purse, she hums a bit. “Yeah, my answer stays the same.”
“Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”
“You like to learn,” she smiles again. “You enjoy the mysteries and the horribleness of the world because it keeps you grounded. You love your mom.”
“We love Penelope, our hearts have similar scars, life has been mean to us for no reason,” he adds 3 more for good measure.
“What are you grateful for in life?” She asks the next question.
“I’ve never said this before,” he prefaces, “but found family. If it wasn’t for my team, no matter who was coming and going over the years, anyone who has had my back. Anyone who loves me in any capacity. That’s what I’m grateful for.”
“We’re not even through the first set of questions and I can see why everyone loves you,” she admits. Moving far too fast, doing exactly what Derek wanted from her.
To scare him and see if he still stays.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Spencer stops the questions, “I can’t continue if I can’t tell you this.”
“Yeah, what’s wrong?”
“Derek and Emily bet me $20 that I couldn’t get someone to fall in love with me, he wanted to set this up and then hit on you in a week and see if you picked me over him, and it feels like a really shitty thing to do to you. It’s making me feel like you’re an object more than a person and I feel really bad about it.”
She just laughs and he has no idea why. “He bet me that I could be as insane as I am with most of my dates and you’d still want to stay with me after a week.”
“You’re not mad?” He worries, by passing her words and the implications of it all.
“No, did you truly mean how you feel?”
“Yes…”
“Then I accept your apology, you’re really kind Spencer. I believe you when you speak, I trust you,” she explains her reasoning and he settles once more. “You’re the most real man I’ve ever met, I think.”
“Thank you,” he smiles again, reaching out for her hand once more, “do you want to finish these questions?”
“Not really,” she smirks, “I think they were wrong about all 35 of them making you fall in love with someone.”
“How so?”
“It only took me 9.”
It’s so absurd they start to laugh, making eye contact, they feel delirious. His hand in hers, she squeezes it lightly and he never wants to let it go.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
“Sure, did you drive?” She asks.
“No, I walked over.”
She gets up from the table and takes his hand once more, “well, are we going to mine or yours?”
“Are you living with Penelope?”
“Yours it is then,” she teases, bumping his shoulder. This was going to be fun.
Spencer pays for their meal and meets her out front, he gets in her passenger seat and gives her the directions. “Do you want to finish the questions on the drive?” He asks.
“Hmm, well, 11 is a long one, if you want to start telling me your life story in graphic detail? Or we can jump to 12 and you can tell me what super ability you’d like to wake up with?”
“Have you ever watched star trek?”
She’s not expecting that, it makes her take a double-take, she laughs lightly, “Yeah, why?”
“Deanna Troi can sense peoples emotions, I think that would really help with my job,” he explains it easily. “And in times like this.”
“I can just tell you,” she offers, pulling into his apartment complex, she can tell why he walked.
“You don’t have to yet, let it simmer,” he smiles softly, he’s not ready for her to make a decision like loving him when she really doesn’t know everything yet. “Come inside?”
She nods, getting out and taking his hand again for the walk inside. His house is green, and it makes sense. There are door wooden bookshelves and the distant smell of old books and spilled coffee, it’s dusty and old and very Spencer.
“Can I tell you some of my story?” She asks as she kicks her shoes off.
“Absolutely,” he follows her lead, “do you want anything, wine, water?”
“Wine would be nice,” she smiles, following him to the kitchen, “you know my favourite place to talk to someone is in the kitchen.”
“Why?”
“It's the heart of the house,” she smiles slightly, “that's what my mom used to say. This is where all the love happens.”
He loves her and he knows it already, she makes him happy and calm and if she’s in the heart of his house she might as well know all of his own heart.
“I was born in Vegas,” Spencer admits, pushing his life story past his lips before she can stop him or else he wouldn’t.
“My mom was a professor, my dad is an attorney, I have always been really smart and not so athletic, I enjoy chess and reading and I had big thick glasses as a child. My mom participated in a murder and my dad covered it up and that ruined their marriage but they blamed it on her schizophrenia when he left. And then I was left to raise her when she was supposed to be raising me. I cared for her until I turned 13, I left her during the weeks and my aunt would make sure she was okay and I would travel back and forth from CalTech and Vegas on the weekends.”
She can see the exhaustion on his face at just remembering it.
“I got my licence at 16, and then I took her car and it was easier. When I was 18 I put her in a sanatarium and sold her house and took a road trip with my friend to Virginia to go to the academy. He didn’t like it after a week and asked me to go with him to New Orleans and I didn’t— I met my mentor and joined the BAU instead. I was kidnapped and drugged by a man with DID… I died and then his personality switched and Tobias brought me back. I had an addiction to Dilaudid for a few months after, then I got sober after visiting Ethan in New Orleans.”
“Was he good to you?”
“Wonderful,” he smiles, “he was my shoulder to cry on for a long time and I didn’t realize how much I needed him in my recovery until we got a case and I had a reason to see him. I missed a plane and ignored my friends to just be with him. He’s the reason I got clean, not anything else… he told me that I was too special to hate myself, and he was right.”
“He was,” she smiles. “He sounds lovely.”
“And then, the first time I saw my mom after putting her in the sanatarium was because she told parts of our case to a man who lost his daughter, and he did a lot of messed up stuff… like he shot my co-worker. She was another special person to me—“
“I’m so sorry.”
He smiles, “she lived, don’t worry. I loved Elle, she was amazing but the bureau didn’t see that. She was a broken toy to them, we all become one eventually. I miss her a lot.”
She walks into his space and wraps her arms around him, giving him a hug as he rests against the counter, she makes no attempt to move back. Holding him in the heart of the house, close to her own. He holds her back just as tight.
“Maeve, she was another person I loved who got shot, she died. I see her sometimes when I sleep, she visits me when I’m in the most need. I’ll always love her, but she’s gone. The only other woman who claims to have loved me was a psychopath who is dead now too, she framed me for murder, had me drugged, kidnapped my mother and the list goes on and it’s not pretty. In prison she had a lot of bad things happen to me, I have scars that will never heal and a part of me was lost but I’m okay now.”
They have a moment of silence in the middle of their stories, she absorbs it while preparing her own, rubbing his back as her cheek stays pressed to his chest.
“I was born in California, my parents were high school sweethearts, they made me at prom. Learned that from the scrapbooks,” she laughs against his chest, “they were great and then they died when I was 14, it was a mass shooting at a mall, and I went to a foster home. I married the oldest son in the home after he groomed me for a few years… I met Penelope when I was 20 and she helped me get divorced and back on my feet and her brothers protected me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry you relate to loss.”
“It's the one thing that unites us all, really,” Spencer’s voice is barely a whisper. “When you think about it, we’re all born and we all die, the only difference is how we fill the middle.”
They never get to that bottle of wine he mentioned, she pulls back and asks the next question as she drags him to his bedroom. “If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?”
“If I get to have kids.”
She drags him into the room and closes the door, “that was going to be my answer.”
“Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?” He asks as she starts to take her clothes off.
“Sleep beside the love of my life.”
“I’ve never woken up beside the love of my life,” he replies with a soft smile and follows suit, getting undressed down to their underwear before climbing in bed.
“Greatest accomplishment?” She asks as they settle in, laying her cheek on his chest once more.
He takes a moment to think of everything he’s done that has been good, and one really stands out. “there was a case a few years back, we found a bunch of kids who went missing and returned them to their families and gave answers to the families of children who didn’t make it. Days like that feel like a reward.”
“Getting divorced,” she pushes the words out quickly.
“Most valued friendship?” He asks, knowing she doesn’t need to explain herself.
“Penelope.”
“Derek.”
“Most treasured memory?”
“When JJ placed her son in my arms and told me I was his godfather,” his voice is hushed and she knows it’s because he doesn’t want to cry. “It's the closest I’ve gotten to being a father so far.”
“I got an end of the year present when I was first starting out, this girl told me that I was the reason she enjoyed reading again and it was the reason I started teaching, I’ll never forget her. Tammy Brownlee, she graduated in 2009 and we’ve been Facebook friends ever since.”
“Most terrible memory?”
“My parents dying.”
“You’d think mine would be dying right?” He asked, she nodded against his chest, “it was actually being held down by 3 men, getting a sock shoved in my mouth while they beat me.”
She kissed his chest softly, “I’m sorry, I know that feeling. Mind you, he was only 1 man, it’s not a good feeling.”
“If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?”
“If it’s definite; not like a chance or a cancer statistic, if it’s like this is the day you die no ifs and's or butts, then I’d just continue as normal and have 1 really awesome day right before,” she smiles against him. “Make the most of it all.”
“If I was dying a year today, I’d ask you to marry me.”
“Already?” She laughs, thinking he’s kidding.
“You want a nice husband and a kid? I will be good for you as long as I know you, and I’ll have as many kids as you want me to help you make.”
She’s silent as she thinks about it. “What does friendship mean to you?”
“Someone who is there for you even when they don’t want to be, even when it’s hard,” Spencer whispers, thinking about his friends.
“It means hacking the government and voiding a marriage and changing someone's name so they can escape,” Y/N whispers. “don’t tell the feds she did that too.”
“What roles do love and affection play in your life?”
“I crave it and hardly receive it, but I give it out like it’s a sample at costco,” she snickers at the example she gave. “It’s something that people have always admired about me and yet it’s also the thing that scares people away. When I love, I love hard and it’s full and annoying and you will feel suffocated sometimes, but just tell me when and I’ll back off.”
“I don’t know how to ask for what I need,” Spencer whispers. “But I need someone to love me like that.”
“The next one is to alternate 5 good things about each other,” she rests her chin on her hand as she looks up at his face in the darkness, “soft.”
He pauses for a moment, bypassing the easiest one and saying pretty, instead, he says; “you’re honest.”
“You’re very caring,” she replies.
“You see beauty in the world still.”
She smiles at that one, “you make the world beautiful.”
“You are beautiful.”
“And you’re handsome, that’s my 4th,” she keeps track in her head.
“You’re true, to your heart, your promises, everything.”
“And you’re real, you see the world for what it is and you don’t try to change it for the better. You want to make it manageable,” her explanation is the longest one yet. “Was your childhood happy, and do you feel close with your family still?”
“I write to my mom every single day and I drop the notes off weekly, and no,” he doesn’t want to cry, but he feels like he might again. “It was liveable, I made it.”
“Mine was happy until I was 14, then I was alone, I have 1 living aunt and she is strange but I get a card from her every Christmas,” Y/N adds. “I’d like to think your lack of love and my need to fill the world with what I miss from my parents will make a really good family dynamic.”
“Me too.”
“How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?” She asks, “I think I know already, but it’s the next one.”
“She hit me a few years ago because I made her take some medicine, she hit me once when I was a kid too…” he whispers them so that they stay a secret, if they can’t be heard else where then they don’t exist in his mind. “She was a wonderful mother but the worst memories stick out the most now. She’s forgetting everything and all I can remember is how hard it’s been on me, like a bad son.”
“My mom was my best friend, and I still talk to her every day, I bring her and my dad around with me in my necklace,” she pulls the chain on her neck and shows him the little jar. “Mom, Dad, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is my mom and dad.”
He holds it in his hand and tips it gently, “nice to meet you.”
“The next one is weird,” she changed the topic again.
“Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "We are both in this room feeling…" Spencer says it verbatim. “We are both feeling understood.”
“We are both hopeful.”
“We are both falling in love,” Spencer ends the feelings with the most prominent one.
“We are,” she agrees with another smile.
“Finish this,” he insists on moving forward, “I wish I had someone I could share…”
“The rest of my life with,” she whispers this time. “If we become besties, what’s something I should know?”
“I think I’ve told you all the important stuff so far,” Spencer thinks hard, pausing for a moment. “My butt is ticklish?”
It makes her giggle, “that is a good one. My sides and the bottom of my feet are ticklish too.”
“Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met,” Spencer reads the question back from memory, “don’t be afraid to be too honest.”
“I like that you know how I feel but I hate that you’ve been hurt. I like how you listen to me, and I really like how comfortable you make me feel. I’m almost naked in your bed right now and I know you’d never, ever hurt me, and I haven’t felt that in a really long time.”
“I like that you are indulging me in the dream of becoming a husband and a dad one day… most people say it’ll happen but they never picture it. No one has ever said yeah id have your kids. I like that you know what you want and you’re actively looking for it.”
She moves up so she can hold his face in her hands, “only 7 more. Is it working?”
He nods, “my most embarrassing moment is the time I had a wet dream on the work jet.”
She laughs and then covers her mouth in panic, “I’m sorry that’s not funny.”
“It is, it’s fine,” he smiles. “I was dreaming about kissing this actress we helped, she actually did kiss me in the pool, so I guess it was bound to happen.”
She leans in and presses her lips against his, holding his cheeks in her hands his wrap around her waist as he holds her there. She peppers smaller kisses to his lips before pulling back, “we both cried in front of each other already today, so next question.”
“Tell me what you like about me already?”
Her hands trail his chest and down towards his boxers, he’s hard again from just kissing and she smirks, “this is promising.”
His hand on her back unclips her bra, “I love boobs, not even going to lie. They are my weakness.”
She pushes the straps down and tosses her bra aside, pressing her naked chest against his, she moves on. “What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?”
“Being called insane, saying I'm seeing things, or acting crazy, those are things I don’t like to be told because they make my anxiety worse.”
“Noted,” she smiles. “I talk to myself a lot so get ready for that.”
“Okay,” he smiles, she’s way too easy to be real.
“I don’t want to mention my last husband from here on out, I think if I get married again I will never tell anyone I have a first husband,” she’s firm in her words.
“Technically, Y/N Garcia has never had a husband,” he reminds her.
Her face lights up at the realization, “you’re right.”
“If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?” Spencer asks.
“I regret not screaming at my ex before I disappeared but I wanted to live.”
He hums, understanding how it feels. “There isn’t anyone in specific I’ve wanted to tell this to, but I wanted to kill people when I was in prison. It made me really angry being in there and I let myself dream about killing people who hurt me and then I almost did kill someone.”
“Remember what you said about bad guys?” She whispers a helpful tip, “even the worst people deserve to have a chance at life. And you’re not hardly as bad as the worst people you’ve met.”
“You’re right,” he agrees. “Thank you.”
“This place burns down, what’s one thing you’d run back inside for? Outside of people and animals…” she asks the 3rd last question.
“The book Maeve gave me.”
“The girlfriend who died?” She confirms, and he nods. “If my place with Penelope burned down, I just want my necklace and I don’t take it off that often.”
“The next question is interesting,” Spencer thinks about it, “Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing, and why?”
“I’m glad I wasn’t at the mall with my parents, if I saw them get shot it would hurt more,” she whispers. “I’m sorry you had to see Maeve die like that.”
“In a way, I’m glad I saw Maeve get shot, otherwise I wouldn’t have believed it. She never felt real to me and then she was dead…”
She just hums, “Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it,” she whispers the last question.
“Also, ask your partner to reflect to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen,” Spencer adds in the second half.
“I need to find a place to stay now that I’m here, I don’t want to keep living with Penelope. As much as I love her, I want my own place,” Y/N admits.
“I think I’m in love with this girl that I just met and I don’t know if it’s too soon to ask her to look for a house with me?” Spencer pretends to sigh, “she’s super cool and I think we’d make some nice kids. I would love some advice.”
“Has she told you she loves you yet?” She teases.
Spencer shakes his head. “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you, too, Spencer,” she replies, leaning in one more time to kiss him.
It’s deeper this time, she breathes him in and rests her forehead against his as she breathes between them.
“How did that work?” She whispers, truly amazed at how easy it was.
He shrugs, “it’s a good questionnaire.”
“You were really honest, your heart is really pure and I would like to get to know you more, but I feel like I know everything?” She shakes her head while she talks, overthinking all the things she has learned, “I don’t even know what could be left?”
“My birthday is October 28th?” He whispers, “we have a lot to discover yet.”
—
When she doesn’t come home in the morning, Penelope knows she’s at Reid’s house. She just doesn’t expect to walk in and find them naked in Reid’s bed, out cold and cuddled together with their clothes all over the room.
It looks like something happened. If only she knew the truth.
“Oh my god?” Penelope’s voice wakes them up and Spencer scrambles to make sure they are covered by his blankets.
“What are you doing here?” Y/N shouts as she wakes up.
“I came to see if you were okay. I expected one of you to be on the couch, I didn’t think it went this good?”
“We just slept in the same bed, I promise,” Spencer turned bright red as he panicked, “we just got to know each other and talked all night, in what we normally sleep in.”
“Uh-huh,” Penelope smirks, “so I take it the 36 questions worked?”
“Perhaps,” Y/N smirks back at her sister.
“Do you use it on many people?”
“No one has made it past the first question,” she smiles at him instead, kissing his cheek as Penelope watches.
“That’s my queue to go, um… yeah, wow, I didn’t see this happening so fast,” Penelope is shocked but in the best way.
She leaves just as fast as she arrived and Y/N settles back into Spencer the second she closes the bedroom door. “You know, if she’s not going to believe us we might as well do it? If you accidentally get me pregnant then we can move fast and no one will question it.”
He laughs, “accidentally, is the key word there.”
“My parents made me at prom after crushing on each other for 2 years… I think knowing each other for 2 days isn’t the weirdest way to start a family?”
“Honestly,” Spencer lets out a sigh and her happy mood drops to a more serious one. “I was a little worried that we’d wake up this morning and you’d change your mind.”
“Why?”
“In the heat of the moment, learning everything about each other and saying I love you was really exhilarating, but I have a hard time believing it,” he admits, “not many people mean it, or stay around after they tell me they love me.”
She cuddles back into the crook of his neck and holds him as tightly as possible, wrapping a leg around him for optimal coverage, “I am staying right here, because I love you, Spencer.”
“Okay,” he whispers. Sounding like he still doesn’t believe it.
“I love you because you’re honest, you want what I want and you’re truly kind. You’re friends with my sister, you’re smart, you would make a great dad, you won't hurt me, you are really nice to cuddle with, and I know you mean it when you say you love me because it’s not a word you use lightly.”
“Are you my girlfriend now?” He wonders aloud, “cause if you really want to have a kid, I have my mom's old wedding ring in my closet, and I would rather be married to you before we do that?”
“Okay,” she whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she hides her face in his neck, “the courthouse is literally just down the road?”
“We can get breakfast together after?” Spencer adds, rubbing her back as they plan, he wasn’t scared anymore.
“Penelope will kill me if she’s not there, can we have her as our witness?” Y/N finally sits up to look at him, pulling away to sit on the bed, still shirtless.
His smile while he tries to keep eye contact with her is so funny, she giggles a little as she hides her nipples behind her palms and cups her boobs.
“I’m pretty sure she’s still in my living room,” Spencer giggles, “Penelope!?”
She comes back in then, “yes?”
“We’re going to the courthouse to get married, wanna come?” Y/N asks with an embarrassed smile.
“Yes!” She cheers, “I’ll go get you a dress!”
And then she’s off again, this time actually leaving Spencer’s apartment. “What if we don’t tell Derek, and let him hit on me next week anyway?
“Then you can say ‘sorry I have a husband,’ and he’ll body slam me to the floor,” Spencer laughs nervously, “the whole team is going to be so pissed they missed my wedding…”
She frowns, “send out a mass text, tell them to meet us at the court house, it’s their day off right?”
“You’re right,” he smiles.
This was going to be interesting.
—
Walking out of the courthouse, hand in hand, she’s in a white dress, he’s in a suit he’d probably wear to work, Penelope is crying and the whole team is waiting outside for them.
At the bottom of the courthouse steps, they all clap and cheer, throwing rice at them like an old movie, Spencer’s smiling so hard his cheeks are burning. Y/N introduces herself to everyone, hugged over and over by everyone she should have met 15 years ago.
Derek is tapping his foot, waiting for Spencer to come and hug him, “what the fuck?” He asks as Spencer steps into his space, wrapping his arms around him and shaking his back and forth.
“Nice try, I’ll give you $20 as a thank you,” Spencer teases as he pulls away. “She is perfect.”
JJ and Will are busy talking to Y/N when he turns around, Mike and Henry not far behind them. Spencer walks over and wraps Henry up in his arms, the kid was growing way too fast, Spencer loved him so much it hurt sometimes.
“Y/N, this is my godson,” Spencer introduces them, “Henry, this is Y/N.”
She gives him a big hug too, “do you have any cousins, Henry?”
“No, but I was 8 when Michael was born,” he smiles, “and I’m getting old enough to be a good babysitter?”
Spencer laughed, messing up Henry’s hair quickly with a smile, “I’m sure by the time you’re a cousin you’ll be great.”
They take a group photo outside, Spencer and Y/N in the middle, everyone was smiling. It was the first time all of them had been in a photo together, the entirety of Spencer’s found family. Now they were Y/N’s too.
She hyphenated her last name, Y/N Garcia-Reid, and their kids would share the same one. He was not only about became a father thanks to Y/N, but Penelope would also become an Aunt once more. It was like a gift that kept on giving, seeing Spencer and Y/N create a little family of their own.
—
She cried her eyes out when she met Diana. She wasn’t expecting to be so emotional, but then Diana was lucid and very welcoming and sweet.
“It’s going to be a pleasure having you as my daughter,” Diana smiles, thinking it was just a nice thing to say.
Y/N cries and holds her so tight Diana almost can’t breathe but she lets her hold her as long as she needs to, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome?”
“I haven’t had someone to call mom since I was 14,” Y/N whispers, “if that’s okay?”
Diana hugs her just a little too tight in response, “you can call me mom whenever you want.”
“Just until you become a grandma,” she whispers again as she pulls back and Diana’s attention snaps to Spencer.
“Are you trying?”
He nods, “we want kids, we’re not getting any younger.”
Diana wraps him up in a hug and he almost falls off his chair at the sheer force of it, she was so happy for him. She knew this was all he’s ever wanted; because he would be good at it, he had all this love in his heart, and he wanted to show his father how easy it is to stay.
“You’re going to be a great dad, Spencer,” she holds his cheeks as she pulls away, “I’m proud of you.”
He cried. It’s all he’s wanted from her, and now he has everything right here in this room.
—
When they find out they’re pregnant after the first try, it’s really funny to them. It was all working so well, it was a little too much for them at first. They were looking for a house, she was looking for a permanent teaching job but Spencer convinced her to wait until after the baby is born to go back.
They name her Morgan Garcia-Reid as a thank you for Derek’s little bet, and before she’s even 6 months old they’re pregnant again. By the time they have 4 kids under 5 they take a break and just enjoy their little family.
To think Derek gave them 7 days to fall in love… and then they lived happily ever after.
taglist: @g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid request#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine
689 notes
·
View notes
Text
OKAY HOLD THE FUCKIN PHONE FOLKS, IT’S TIME FOR MORE CRAZY CAMPAIGN 3 META AND THEORIZING.
I’m still working on my ridiculous Pepe-Silvia-esque conspiracy theory post after Ep 13, don’t worry. I literally have a whole Google Doc going full of notes and quotes and the occasional timestamp if I feel it’s relevant. But I’m currently rewatching Episode 8 and have reacquainted myself with some info about Cyrus’s problem that has lead to a whole new theory, which I think is very related.
So buckle up, let’s dive into it. Spoilers ahead for Episodes 7 and beyond, if you’re not caught up on that.
To quickly recap: Ep 8 is the one where the Gang (as I’m calling them for now) sits down to talk with Chetney after killing the wall-monster. During that convo, Dorian introduces them to his brother Cyrus, who then proceeds to tell them about the mess he’s in. Now I’m sure I’m not alone here, but in the time since that episode aired (just before Xmas) and now, I’d definitely forgotten a few things. But these are the biggest facts that I think the Gang and we the audience still remember for sure:
Cyrus was hired to help protect a caravan that was hauling a bunch of money and a mysterious crate. The other people who were hired to guard it turned out to be thieves who proceeded to steal a bunch of the gold being transported, as well as a weird stone golem which they commanded to help them.
Cyrus, who had no knowledge of any of this, was left behind to take the fall. He was accused of being part of the plan, arrested, escaped, and subsequently had a 20,000 GP bounty placed on him.
Cyrus noted that the crate the golem burst out of had the initials J.H. on it. And Ashton was later able to confirm that the golem had belonged to his sort-of patron/sort-of blackmailer Jiana Hexum, who seemingly has a special interest in golems, as evidenced by the two stationed outside her house.
Now based on all this, it’s clear the Gang/the cast have been operating under the assumption that Jiana Hexum is the one who put out the bounty on Cyrus. After all, the golem was clearly a big ticket, high value item that she was angry about losing and very much wants back. She’s indicated that she has people working on trying to get the golem back, and the Gang has been treating her as the one they’d need to please in order to get Cyrus’s bounty removed.
Part of this is probably because at 2:25:00, Matt tells the Gang that they didn’t specifically ask Cyrus who hired him and/or put out the bounty on him, meaning Cyrus didn’t specifically tell them that info. From that point on, they focus on figuring out who J.H. is, and when they learn who it is, treat her as the one they need to bargain with.
But Matt’s a (very lovely) human being, contrary to what some people out there seem to think. And he sometimes forgets or misremembers things. And in fact, at 1:32:04, FCG does ask Cyrus who hired him, to which Cyrus responds that the bounty on him was put out by the guild who runs that caravan: the Gold Guild of Treshi.
This was significant at the time. After all, the Gang had just discovered that House Treshi owned the Stone Mason’s Guild which would have been responsible for repairs in the alley behind the Dreamscape Theater. But at that time, we didn’t even know who Armand Treshi was or how important this house would become, so it could have been a red herring. And I think due to Matt’s later mistake and to the growing importance of Jiana Hexum as the plot has progressed, this tidbit of information was left behind. (To be clear, not the cast’s fault—they’re busy adult people who cannot reasonably be expected to remember every tiny detail. I just happen to be someone with a disturbing amount of free time on their hands to comb through for this shit.)
So here’s where my brain got to spinning about this. To me, it seems Extremely Unlikely™ that either House Treshi with all their power and money OR a guild they control wouldn’t be able to screen their hired security for potential threats. Yes, it is technically possible that this group of thieves were really just that good, and managed to hoodwink the Gold Guild into hiring them.
But really? A guild that we can presume is responsible for handling and transporting the riches of the Mahaan houses—possibly for any and all banking in Jrusar—and which is owned/managed by one of the most powerful Mahaan houses in all of the Oderan Wilds, cannot be bothered to double check that their hired security isn’t going to turn on them and jack their goods?
Nah. Nah nah nah. I call bullshit. Rich people care more about their money than other people’s lives; they wouldn’t leave their gold (or their prized possessions) in the hands of anyone they thought would steal it.
Unless they meant for those people to steal it.
I propose that the caravan robbery wasn’t just a setup by some petty thieves looking to make bank. It was a setup by Armand Treshi.
It goes like this:
Armand’s house runs the Gold Guild. Through this, he knows that a caravan they manage is going to be moving a ton of gold and at least one really valuable and handy golem.
Armand hires a group of thieves to stage a robbery of the caravan. We can’t be sure what he told them to take, but Cyrus said the thieves were surprised that the golem came awake during the heist. So it seems like maybe they were only told to steal money.
To get access, Armand arranges for the Gold Guild to hire these thieves as the caravan’s protection. And as part of this plan, the Guild also hires Cyrus, someone who isn’t part of the group or the plan, to be the fall guy.
The plan goes off without a hitch. The thieves make off with a fuckton of cash, and when the golem wakes up, their leader Nova orders it to start helping them round up gold and come with them. Cyrus is left behind and is royally boned.
The Gold Guild and House Treshi have Cyrus arrested, and when he escapes, they put out the great whoppin’ bounty on his head. This gives them plausible deniability. How could they have known their hired help was going to rob them? They just lost a ton of money, too! They’re also victims here, and they’re determined to get justice!
Meanwhile, the thieves take their loot and the golem back to Armand. Armand now has a buttload of money that is officially off the books, which he can put towards nefarious uses. Such as, oh I dunno, hiring a terrifying fey creature to do magical experiments for him? Or giving his lackey Vali Dertrana the money to hire a famously expensive bounty hunter to bag a werewolf? Or buying and moving a lot of illegal brumestone? ;)
He also now has a pretty sweet stone golem that he can use however he sees fit! I’m on the fence as to whether he meant to acquire it or not, but I’m leaning much closer to yes he did. Like I said, he has the hookup to know exactly what was in that caravan, and seeing as he’s clearly into some shady shit, I bet he’d see the golem as a potentially valuable tool.
So, where does this theory leave us? Well, that depends. I also theorized during the stream of Ep 13 that Cyrus and the Corsairs were being manipulated by Emoth Kade, who was setting them up to be captured by the Paragon’s Call during the ball, as part of a larger play by Armand to get Paragon’s Call instated into the city and weaken the Corsairs.
If any of these theories holds any water, then our beloved himbo is fucking screwed. Depending on just how nefarious and deep you think Armand’s schemes go, you could extrapolate from here that Armand and Emoth aren’t just setting the Corsairs up to be captured. Maybe they specifically manipulated Cyrus, knowing that the bounty the Gold Guild has on him would motivate him to make more money to pay it off. Maybe they’re not just hoping to strike a public blow to the Corsairs, but they’re also hoping to catch the quarry of their bounty and show that House Treshi is the only one doing anything to stop the rampant problems in the city.
(For that matter, I have questions about how Cyrus escaped when he was arrested. He’s... not exactly a super genius, and I say that with nothing but love. We don’t know where he was held or by who, but it’s safe to assume he was put in the Granite Hold prison. Did the Corsairs help him escape? Or did Armand Treshi secretly arrange his escape, so that he could get a bounty out for the “thief’s” arrest and provide a further distraction to keep suspicious eyes away from him?)
Tbh, I have no fucking clue. I think it just supports the growing notion I have that Armand isn’t just looking to gain a little extra clout in Jrusar. He’s after something much, much bigger. If most of the threads the Gang have been stumbling upon really do lead back to Armand, as I believe they do, then this fucker seems to be primed to pull some major hostile takeover shit.
That’s the beauty of CR and Matt’s plotting/worldbuilding abilities, though. There’s so many ways all of this can go still, and no matter how many theories I or anyone else comes up with, we’re all gonna be surprised by whatever he pulls out of his bag. (And given the Gang’s penchant for chaos, Matt himself might even end up surprised ksjdfhdsk)
#Critical Role#campaign 3#critical role meta#critical role theory#c3 theory#c3 meta#critical role spoilers#cr spoilers#campaign 3 spoilers#Bree's stuff#about me#about Bree
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Date With Destiny (m)
“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton
➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader
➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU
➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix
➺ Rating: 18+
➺ Word Count: 11k
➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths.
Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.
➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning
➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!
This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!
When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.
Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.
Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.
“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.
“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.
“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.
Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”
“What if I wanted to do that too?”
“Can I watch?”
“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.
Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.
Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”
“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.
“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.
For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.
You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.
Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-
Holy. Shit.
Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.
Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?
BTS is on your flight?
What are the odds?
Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.
Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.
But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.
So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.
BTS who?
Biggest boyband who?
You only listen to Frank Sinatra.
“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.
Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”
You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.
“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”
His ticket shows the same characters as yours.
Huh?
With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.
“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.
She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.
The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.
Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?
“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.
“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.
“No no. No trouble” He beams back.
Aw, you are in trouble.
As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.
Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.
Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.
Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.
An Angel was calling you.
You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.
Wait...
Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.
“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.
“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”
Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.
Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.
The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.
“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.
“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.
“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.
“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.
“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”
“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.
“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”
Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.
“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.
He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”
He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.
You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.
You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.
During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.
A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.
Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.
He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.
But something about you made him open up.
Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.
But.
It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.
Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.
He wonders if you feel that way too.
Speaking of whom-
A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.
In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.
The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.
Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.
Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.
“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.
Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”
He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”
“Listen, I-”
“So I was think-”
Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.
High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.
You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.
As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.
“Hey mami, come here often?”
“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”
“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”
You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.
“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.
“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”
As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.
“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”
“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”
“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”
You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”
Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”
“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”
“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”
That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).
“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”
The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”
“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”
“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”
“How is that pertinent?”
“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”
“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.
Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”
“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.
“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”
Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.
Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.
Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.
A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.
But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.
All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.
So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.
“J-Jungkook?”
Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.
Y/N. In person.
He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.
Right?
“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”
Wrong.
Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.
He forces his body to action.
"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.
Pause.
"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"
You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"
“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”
Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.
And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.
“Oh, okay.”
“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”
“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”
Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.
But you’re not anyone else.
He isn’t just anyone.
Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.
The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.
Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.
He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.
Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.
To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.
Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.
He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.
Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.
The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.
“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”
“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”
“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”
“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”
“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”
She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.
The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.
“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”
“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”
Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.
“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”
You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.
After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”
The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.
Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.
Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.
After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”
A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.
The elevator door opens, and people walk out.
But that’s not where your attention is.
You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.
The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.
Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.
Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.
Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.
Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.
Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.
“It’s a shoot.”
You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”
“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.
Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.
“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.
The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.
“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”
The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.
“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”
The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.
“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”
The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.
“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”
Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.
Three days. Three days before it happens again.
Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.
The punctuation was not vocalized.
Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.
The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?
You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.
So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.
So far, no sign of him.
This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.
But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.
And then you hear it.
You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.
When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.
Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.
The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.
So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.
“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.
“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”
Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.
“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”
Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”
“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”
Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.
“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”
Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.
“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.
“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.
Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?
Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.
Carpe noctem it is.
“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.
A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.
“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”
“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”
He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.
“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.
He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.
Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Should you go the modest route or fuck it?
Fuck it.
“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.
Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.
“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”
“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”
If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.
“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.
“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”
If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.
“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.
“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”
“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”
Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.
“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.
Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.
The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.
Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.
Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.
Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.
Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).
When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.
“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”
The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”
His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”
“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”
The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.
You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.
“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”
You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”
He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.
Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”
“Hmmn, depends.”
He cocks a brow. “On?”
“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”
That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”
Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.
Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.
Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.
The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.
Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.
“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”
With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”
Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.
“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”
You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.
He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.
“On your knees.” he commands.
Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-
Wow.
You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.
He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.
And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.
“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”
The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.
You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.
You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.
“Spit for me.”
Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.
A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.
“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”
You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.
Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.
“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”
Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.
“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”
In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.
Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”
The last word slips out unwittingly.
Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.
Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.
“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”
Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.
“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”
Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.
Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”
It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.
You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.
“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.
The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.
He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.
“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.
With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.
Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.
Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.
“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.
Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.
“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.
“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.
How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.
Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.
“Jungkook, please.”
Who was he to deny you?
Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.
“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”
Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.
“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”
You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.
Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.
He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.
Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.
“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.
“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.
Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.
It’s a good thing you like the pain.
You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.
A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.
“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”
You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.
Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.
“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.
“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.
He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”
“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”
Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.
You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-
The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.
You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.
“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”
“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”
Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.
“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.
His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.
“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”
“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”
“Uungh yes yes I love it!”
“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”
“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”
“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”
A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.
If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.
Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.
“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.
Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.
Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.
“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”
“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.
He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.
“I’ll do this.”
A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.
“Go on baby, ride me.”
The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.
“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.
“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”
“That’s fucking right, only me.”
Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.
Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.
“Want some help?”
One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.
“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.
“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”
It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.
He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.
Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.
A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.
In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”
“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”
“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”
You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”
Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”
Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.
What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.
“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.
He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.
Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.
You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”
Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.
After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.
A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.
“Oh, did the light wake you?”
The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”
The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.
“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”
Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.
This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.
He finds none.
Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.
You inch closer.
Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.
You let your lips convey the answer.
Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.
“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”
He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.
“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.
“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”
A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”
He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.
“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.
“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.
After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.
Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.
His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”
“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”
“I’m kinky like that.”
You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.
“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”
Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”
A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,
“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”
Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!
#bts#bangtan sonyeondan#bulletproof boy scouts#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts smut#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook fanfiction#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook smut#jjk#jjk fanfic#jjk fanfiction#jjk smut#bts jungkook#bts jeon jungkook#bts jungkook fanfic#dom!jungkook#dom!jk#dom jk#dom jungkook
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!
Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.
For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.
So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.
Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.
Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.
With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.
This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.
Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.
Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.
This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.
She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.
Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.
You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.
The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.
You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.
Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.
He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.
His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.
His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.
His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.
Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.
She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.
Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.
#if you dont want to use the refs#im really cool with it#just enjoy yourself buddy#pokemon#prof.peach#peach talks#prof.grey#pari#dotaku island#dotaku staff#PLEASE#just ask me if you dont know something#or feel i missed something in what i wrote
188 notes
·
View notes
Note
Vampy come down for family dinner and help clean up like he wasn’t just defiling their daughter 10 minutes ago
Harry would rail the fuck out of her in her closet with one hand over her mouth and another around her throat, grunting absolute filth into her ear as she spills over him with muffled whines and sobbed pleas. He’d lick her clean, pull her panties and leggings back up her quaking thighs, and proceed to buckle his slacks casually while she props herself against the wall, trembling and panting.
He just leans forward and presses a chaste kiss between her sweaty brows, her skin sticky against his lips as he murmurs smugly. “I’m gonna go finish cleaning up the kitchen with your mum. Come back down after you’ve sorted yourself out, and don’t forget to wipe your makeup off. It’s smeared down your face.”
Y/N does as he says, wiping the watery steaks of mascara off her cheeks and fixing her wild hair, making sure to leave no evidence of their little escapade, lest Harry end up sleeping outside on the yard. When she finally gets back down to her living room (she takes the stairs extra carefully, her belly throbbing with each step), the vampire is sitting in the rocking chair next to her mother’s, swaying lightly as they chat away nonchalantly.
They’re laughing and gossiping, their hands occupied with all types of yarn and needles, and she always forgets that Harry had learned how to knit when he was younger. It’s so baffling to see him engaging innocently with her mom, his nimble fingers expertly working on a multicolored scarf as he does so, not sparing the piece the slightest glance due to how confident he is in his skills. The reason it’s especially startling is because those fingers had been inside her not even five minutes ago.
“So we were running around this lake near my house,” Harry explains candidly, clearly in the middle of telling a story from his past as his digits weave in and out amidst red and purple yarn, “and we were playing in the snow near the banks, which was our first mistake. My mother had told me that the snow around the shores tended to be really slushy, so if we weren’t careful, we’d end up slipping really easily. We didn’t listen, of course— what ten year old does? We were playing tag with the neighbors, and as I was chasing after Gemma, I accidentally shoved her a bit too hard and she slipped and fell right into a pile of muddy snow. Completely stained everything she was wearing.”
Her mom releases a disappointed hiss, giving him a sympathetic glance over the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Poor thing.”
Harry nods in agreement, looping yarn over his needles as he extends the scarf over his lap for more space, continuing his labor. “My mum grounded me for a week, and I spent that entire time learning to knit so I could remake Gemma’s mittens, since I was the one that ruined them. It was a fair punishment, honestly, and I ended up liking it more than I thought. Plus, the mittens I made were way better than the original pair. You just can’t buy this type of talent anywhere.”
The older woman laughs boisterously at his self-absorbed joke, which results in Harry smiling to himself proudly, giggling along.
Y/N clears her throat softly, leaning against the archway that leads into the room and crossing her arms over her chest in a relaxed manner, quirking an eyebrow at both of them as she makes her presence known. “Having fun?”
Harry glimpses over at her, his eyes raking down her body to where she’s clasping her thighs tightly, irises gleaming with knowing condescension. “Loads.”
“Harry was just telling me about when he learned to knit!” Y/N’s mother chirps, sending a warm smile towards the boy sitting across from her, unaware of the fact that he’d been defiling her daughter not too long ago. “It’s not often that you find a young man with this type of interest. He’s a keeper, sweetheart.”
“Hear that?” The immortal gloats teasingly, wagging his brows playfully as he holds up his unfinished accessory. “I’m a keeper.”
“Mm.” His girlfriend hums sarcastically, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling to avoid giving him any satisfaction. “I bet you’re just loving all this praise, aren’t you?”
Harry whistles lowly, tutting in a chastising fashion. “Someone’s jealous.”
Y/N rectifies her posture, an appalled expression cracking over her features. “Am not!”
“Are to.”
“Am not.”
“Are to.” Harry insists doggedly, looking over at the older woman for support. “Isn’t she?”
Her mom studies her for a moment, clicking her tongue scoldingly. “I think maybe you are, honey. Just a bit.”
Harry cranes his head back towards Y/N, sticking his tongue out mockingly behind the woman’s back and scrunching up his face comically, flaunting his childish point.
“Plus, Harry was sweet enough to make you that scarf he’s working on. You should be more grateful.”
Harry softens his eyes dramatically, sugaring his voice into a honeyed drawl that only she can read through. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m going out of my way to make you this nice gift, and that’s the thanks I get?”
“Dickhead.” The girl grumbles pettily, shifting on her feet as she glowers at him.
Her mother glares at her accusingly. “Language! I taught you better than that!”
“Mm. You should be more careful with what you say; words hurt more than you know.” Harry tacks on with a snide grin, shrugging his brows daringly as he slips an innuendo into his next line. “Mouthing off like that could get you into a whole lot of trouble.”
The pit of her tummy throbs at his curtained challenge, her eyes narrowing as she bites back the urge to curse him out again. “Thanks for the moral advice, Aristotle, but I’m grown enough to face the consequences of my own actions.”
Harry slowly puts down his knitting needles onto the small table beside him, picking up the scarf laying across his thighs and rolling it out in its entirety. It’s now that she realizes the item is much too thin width-wise to be scarf— it looks more like a belt, similar to the strap used to tie off a robe. The vampire flickers his gaze over to Y/N’s mom to make sure she’s not watching, and once he sees the lady is once again preoccupied with her knitting, he trains his attention back onto his partner.
He lifts the long colorful band up to his neck, tying one end around his throat loosely and wrapping the excess length around his knuckles, giving the article a symbolic tug. Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the crude reenactment, suddenly coming to terms with what he’s actually created under the guise of a harmless statement piece: it’s a makeshift collar.
Harry watches her avidly, a sinister smirk carving his dimples into place once he sees she’d understood his implication. He yanks the leash from around his neck swiftly before he gets caught, rolling the material back up neatly to disguise it. He cocks his head to the side conceitedly, his accent slathered with the same amount of arrogance as his gesture. “You never know, dove. Sometimes the consequences might be too much for you to handle.”
336 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff
chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four
author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!
Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.
A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.
Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.
"Y/N? Is that you?"
And there goes my moment.
Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?
"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."
She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.
"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"
"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.
She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."
Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"
"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.
"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.
She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"
"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.
She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."
"Oh, the scandal," I teased.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.
"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.
Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"
She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"
I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."
Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."
"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"
She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.
"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.
I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.
Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.
"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."
I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.
"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.
"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.
"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."
She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."
She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.
"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."
"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.
"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."
"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."
She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.
"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."
She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."
I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.
When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.
"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."
She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."
I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.
"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.
She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."
"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."
She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."
Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."
And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.
Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.
—
Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.
As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.
Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.
Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.
"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.
Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.
"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."
I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."
She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."
The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.
"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."
"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"
She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits, but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."
I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.
She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.
And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.
"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.
I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.
Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."
She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."
I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."
She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.
"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.
I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.
She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."
I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.
Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."
She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"
I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."
She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.
Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.
"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.
She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."
"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.
"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."
I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."
She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."
I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."
She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."
I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."
She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.
"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."
She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."
"Pardon?"
She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."
I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."
"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."
Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.
The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.
"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."
Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.
—
My dreams were never anything worthwhile.
For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...
As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.
So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.
"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"
It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.
"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.
I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.
"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.
In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.
"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.
She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.
"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.
Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."
The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.
"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.
When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.
The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.
"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.
I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.
"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.
"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.
My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.
"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.
They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.
"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.
I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.
When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.
I liked my brother's fiancé.
#wanda maximoff au#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff imagine#scarlet witch imagine#scarlet witch#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen imagine#elizabeth olsen#marvel#marvel imagine#mcu
374 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
jordyn-ingle-blog
jordyn-ingle
schoupenermonde-blog
Untitled
bomengel
Untitled
nonmumblr
JustHere
daboisseurs-blog
daboisseurs