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alwaysmicado · 8 months

Text

It's always been you

3.3k words | NSFW 18+ | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: angst, age gap (unspecified), swearing, brief mention of p in v sex, brief mention of disordered eating and suicide, mention of black eye, toxic relationship, drug use, reader's coping mechanisms are unhealthy Summary: After a year of dating Dieter Bravo, you are forced to face reality. All good things must come to an end, right? A/N: Nothing is more painful than realizing the person you love is not good for you.

Enjoy the hurt and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear from you! 🖤

“Baby, please just listen to me,” Dieter implores. You huff and shake your head, avoiding his pleading eyes. “It didn’t mean anything. It really didn’t, okay? I- I don’t want her,” you can hear the desperation in his voice. He’s a good actor, you gotta give him that.

“Baby?” He takes a step towards you but knows better than to touch you right know. Even if that’s all he wants to do. Wrapping his strong arms around you, feeling your heartbeat against his chest, inhaling your scent. He says your name softly, his voice laden with anguish. You turn your head a little and your eyes find his. Dieter’s beautiful brown eyes. The eyes you've been losing yourself in for the past year.

“Please just tell me what I can do to fix this and I’ll do it. Anything. Please,” he takes another step towards you and whispers, “I can’t lose you.” Arrogant asshole. The illusion is gone.

You furrow your brow and tilt your head, studying the man in front of you. Dressed in his favorite pair of gray sweatpants, a loose white shirt that accentuates his tan skin, perfectly disheveled hair just screaming to be played with, sad puppy eyes. He looks like always - irritatingly handsome.

Something's off though. His body language, usually relaxed and confident, is teeming with insecurity. You smirk at that thought. Dieter Bravo, enigmatic celebrity and notorious playboy, insecure because of you. What a joke.

“You really think I'm fucking stupid, don't you?” Your voice is steady, every word filled with venom. “Just some silly girl you can use to get your dick wet and feed your ego.” He winces at that. Good. “I know you're used to people bending over backwards for you, blowing smoke up your ass and never saying no to you. But guess what, they don't give a shit about you.” Your face is heating up and you can feel your restraint slipping.

“I'm sure she made you feel really good, Dieter. Like a real star.” You snort sardonically and smirk, “Did you give her the same speech you gave me when we met? How you're this misunderstood guy just trying to get by and find real love?” You look around, shrugging your shoulders mockingly. “Either you're losing your charm or she's just a lot smarter than I am. Would've made everything so much easier if I'd left that first night, too, huh?”

Dieter huffs, averting his gaze and rubbing the nape of his neck. Your eyes follow the motion of his ringed hand, now clearly seeing the fresh hickey adorning his neck. Mother. Fucker. What the actual fuck is wrong with this man? And what the hell is wrong with you for putting up with his shit for so long? Seriously.

You’re actually very well aware of what's wrong with you, but that doesn’t really help you. Never has, if you’re being honest with yourself.

The hurt inside you becomes unbearable. Your lips start to tremble and you bite back a sob. You’re surprised at the feeling of wet tears running down your hot cheeks. What’s happening with you? You never cry in front of other people - especially not Dieter.

He hates it. Seeing you cry hurts him more than anything you could ever say to him. Unable to see you like this, he starts pacing around the living room, feverishly running his hands through his hair.

“Don’t you dare look away,” you spit out, making him turn around with an exasperated sigh, lifting his gaze to meet yours slowly. He cringes at what he sees in your wet eyes. The harm he's done. The spark in your eyes he loves so much, gone.

“You ripped my fucking heart out, Dieter,” you sob, tears streaming down your neck. You press both of your hands over your racing heart and claw at your shirt, nails digging into your flesh so hard it hurts.

Dieter reaches out to you, eyes wide, “Baby, I know I fucked up. I'm so-” “Fuck. You,” you shout at him, startling the both of you alike. You've never raised your voice at Dieter, no matter what bullshit he put you through. But you can’t take it anymore. Fuck always being the bigger person. Not like it ever got you anything.

And did he really just try and say he's fucking sorry?

“You ripped my beating heart out with your bare hands, felt my bleeding flesh in your palms and now you seriously have the fucking audacity to tell me it didn’t mean anything? That you're sorry?” You laugh mirthlessly and wipe your wet cheeks. Dieter swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He has no response.

Your head hurts and you feel weak despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Crying is exhausting. Having your heart stomped on is exhausting. Realizing the man you love will never be good for you is killing you.

You sit down on the sofa, close your eyes and inhale deeply. Dieter approaches you slowly and sits down on the far end, turning his body towards you, but giving you space.

Eyes closed, head resting on the backrest, you press the heels of your palms onto your eyes. You can hear Dieter's breathing, can smell his cologne. A birthday present from you he's used every day since unwrapping it. You remember that day well.

After the extravagant party with all of Dieter's fake Hollywood friends was finally over, you two went skinny-dipping in his pool. You started splashing water at each other, laughing without a care in the world. At some point, Dieter caught you in his arms, pulling you towards him, hooking your feet behind his back. He looked so happy, his beautiful features illuminated by moonlight. He kissed you slowly, passionately, savoring the taste of your lips. “I love you, you know,” he murmured, nudging your nose with his. “You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. Gonna do it right with you.” And you believed him. How foolish of you.

“It's easier for you like this, isn't it” you note quietly, turning your head to look at Dieter. “What do you mean?” His voice is raspy, brow furrowed in confusion. “Being the bad guy,” you scoff like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You've convinced yourself that you're a bad person who can never be good and that's why you act the way you do. Makes it easier. You can just point to your shitty behavior and tell yourself that's why people leave you.”

You furrow your brow and shake your head. “Don't you see? It’s you, Dieter. It’s always been you. It’s not the drugs, or the people you fuck, or the shit that happened in your childhood. You're the problem. It’s you.”

You huff and make for the door, in desperate need of fresh air and space.

“You think it's so fucking easy being me. Got it all figured out, huh?” Dieter's agitated voice yanks you back. “You have no fucking idea how it is. Everyone wants a piece of me and as soon as they got what they wanted - drugs, sex, fame - they fucking leave me.” He gets up and closes the distance between you two in a few strides. You don't back away.

You’ve never needed to be close to him more than right now and it positively kills you that you can’t. You can’t wrap your hands around his waist, press your face into his chest, hold him tight until your heartbeats synchronize. You can’t. Not anymore.

“You're the only good thing I got and I know I fucked up. I know I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you, but please,” he takes your hands in his, squeezing them gently, “please stay. I was high off my ass and I couldn't tell you her name or what she looked like if you asked me. Please let me fix this.”

Dieter leans in, leaving barely any room between your bodies. You can feel his breath on your face, feel the heat radiating off his body. His big sad eyes are piercing your soul, pleading with you, desperately seeking to convince you. Nice try. You know this will happen again. Dieter Bravo won't change. Not for you, not for anyone.

You take a deep breath, maintaining eye contact. “I’m not leaving you because you fucked someone else in our bed last night, Dieter. I’m leaving you because you're so convinced you're bad that you won't even try to be better. Not even for me.”

Hot tears are starting to make their way down your cheeks again. Dieter gives you a sad smile, gently cupping your face with his hands, wiping away the evidence of your sadness with his thumbs. “Please don't cry, baby,” he murmurs. His voice is strained, the corners of his mouth twitching.

You put your trembling hands around his wrists and slowly lower them from your face. “I'm done being just another person who got caught up in the whirlwind that is you and got lost on the way. I can't do it anymore.”

Before Dieter can say something, you interrupt him by softly pressing your right hand to his chest. His heart is racing. “It felt like you killed me last night,” you deadpan and Dieter’s breath hitches, his eyes going even wider. “I'm so so-” “But you know what?” you look into his eyes intently and shrug, “I’m still here, so I guess I’m not dead.”

“I’ll go on without you,” you nod, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “I’m done, Dee. Finally done.”

----------

You lean against the front door of Dieter’s mansion, chest heaving, trying to steady your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slowly. Over and over. The dull pain in your head gets worse and you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to throw up. You turn around to face the concrete wall and empty your stomach contents onto the ground, trying as much as you can to not get it on your clothes.

Your throat burns, tears are streaming down your face and the throbbing pain in your head is all-consuming. Your vision starts to get blurry and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears - louder and louder - until everything is quiet. Peaceful.

----------

I’m sorry. I want you to be happy.

Dieter’s note on the nightstand does nothing to you. Your heart feels numb.

You see the glass of water and the Advil next to the note. You’re wearing a clean shirt, not the one you were crying and throwing up on a few hours ago. Dieter must have changed you into one of his. Your pants are neatly folded on a lounge chair standing in the corner. Light is flooding the bedroom you've woken up in every morning for the past year. Weird to think it's the last time today.

You sit up too fast and your head pounds violently, so you try and move as slowly and carefully as possible. The pill doesn’t go down easily. Your throat burns and even the tiny gulp of water you need to swallow it feels like someone’s dragging hot knives from your tongue all the way down to your bleeding heart.

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You know Dieter, you know what to expect from him and you also know yourself. Still, you let yourself believe. Believe that you could be loved. Believe that someone could know you - really know you - and still love you. But it’s always the same. To know you is to love you less.

It’s your fault. Dieter showed you who he was from the beginning and you still let yourself fall for him. You knew better than to open up your bruised heart to him and yet, you did. That was your decision, not his. And the most fucked up thing? You’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Loving Dieter hurt. Badly. But for a brief moment in your life, he showed you that you were capable of loving someone and being loved.

You know he was telling the truth about that. He did love you. Maybe still does. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve had your taste of pure happiness and that’s more than most people will ever experience in their life. It’s okay. It was always going to end this way.

----------

Three months later

It’s hot outside. Too hot. So you usually just stay inside your new apartment after you come home from work. Shutters closed, AC blasting until the sun goes down and you can finally open the windows to let the cool night air inside.

You’re on your balcony, finishing up your nightly bottle of white wine. You can smell the summer night, hear the hum of cars driving by, people eating and laughing, crickets chirping peacefully. When you close your eyes, you feel a comfortable buzz. This is okay. You’re still here, haven’t jumped off your balcony or slit your wrists. Too final, you think.

You don’t actually want to die, you just want to be as numb as possible. Numb the pain that is simply too unbearable to face fully present. So you drink and you pop Xanax bars and you either don’t eat or stuff yourself so full you throw it all back up.

And you fuck Ben from work.

Turns out he'd had his eyes on you for some time before you went into his office with the goal to get bent over his desk.

Swaying your hips, batting your eyelashes, tracing his arms and shoulders with your fingertips, purring into his ear how you need him to take care of you did the trick. Two minutes after entering the office, Ben was already balls deep inside you. He made you cum on his cock, spilled his seed on your ass and drove you home after. You fucked him again in the parking lot of your apartment complex, riding him until you both were a sticky mess. He didn't ask if he could come upstairs and you didn't offer. “What did I do to deserve you, hm?” he asked when you were both laying in his bed a few days later. You lifted your head from his chest to look at him. He was beaming at you with undisguised admiration. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and buried your face in his neck. Ben was kind and attentive and handsome - he was everything you could wish for. What a sane person would wish for, anyway. But that wasn't you. And he wasn't Dieter.

You're alone tonight, sitting on your sofa, a glass of wine in your hand. You stare at your phone, index finger hovering over the Instagram icon. You shouldn't be doing this. Really shouldn't. 'Cause every time you do it, you end up crying yourself to sleep despite the alcohol and pills.

Fuck it. You open the app and are greeted with Dieter's face laughing into the camera. He's not alone, as usual. A pretty girl is hugging him and pressing her plump lips to his left cheek. You want to vomit.

He stopped texting and calling you a few weeks ago. Probably got tired of you never replying, you assume. And it's not like there aren't thousands of women out there just waiting to take your place by his side and in his bed. Why would he waste his time on a woman who broke up with him?

You're sure that Ms What's-her-face from his Instagram doesn't nag him about doing too much coke or fucking other women or meeting her parents or starting a fam- You throw your phone across the room and start sobbing violently. Three shots of Whiskey and too many Xanax bars later, you pass out on the sofa.

You stop stalking Dieter's Instagram after that night. You need to get your shit together before you do (even more) irreparable harm to your body and psyche. No more social media, no more alcohol, no more pills, no more Ben. He doesn't make a scene, letting you know that he'd like to stay friends. You know you don't deserve his kindness.

A few quiet weeks go by and you start to feel a bit better, now that you're not treating yourself like complete garbage. You eat well, take walks when the weather's nice and you've started dating a guy you met in the small coffeeshop near your apartment. Life is fine at the moment. You're fine.

----------

Loud knocking on your front door rips you out of deep sleep. You open your eyes in confusion and check your phone. It's 2:26 am. Probably someone coming home drunk and knocking on the wrong door. You wrap yourself in your blanket tightly and close your eyes again.

Another loud knock, now accompanied by a voice saying your name. You grunt and reluctantly get up, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. You look through the peephole and your heart skips a beat.

“I'm sorry for waking you, babe. Thanks for letting me in, I-” Dieter looks down at his feet, fidgeting with his rings, “I didn't know where else to go.” You hand him a cup of chamomile tea, sitting down beside him on the sofa. “It's okay,” you nod, looking at his face intently. He's wearing his signature sunglasses. You assume it's because he wants to hide the evidence of his excessive drug use.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes before he lifts his head to look at you. He puts his right hand on the cushion between you two, wordlessly communicating his need for your touch. You gently place your left hand over his and move to intertwine your fingers. Dieter's breathing becomes heavier.

“What happened, Dee?” you ask quietly. When he doesn't answer, you move your right hand towards his sunglasses, watching carefully for any signs that he wants you to stop. You take the glasses off slowly and gasp when you see what he was hiding. It wasn't dilated pupils, it was a massive black eye.

You trace the swollen skin under his left eye with your thumb, causing him to wince. “I guess her husband found out?“ you ask with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. Dieter chuckles, shaking his head. “I'm sorry,” he says, lifting his gaze to meet yours. You shrug your shoulders, “I already said it's okay you came he-” “That's not what I mean,” he interjects. “I'm sorry for everything, for hurting you. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness and you're better off without me, but I want you to know that I really am sorry.”

And just like that, the heart you've worked so hard on fixing over the past few months breaks all over again.

Tears are silently falling from your cheeks as you lie down on your bed. You're on your side, eyes closed, tears pooling on the pillow when you feel the mattress sink under Dieter's weight. He's removed his jacket and pants, now lying on his side, mirroring you, in his boxers and shirt.

He caresses your cheek and murmurs, “C'mere”. You lay your head on his chest, your right hand resting above his heart. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, kissing the top of your head.

“I do love you, you know,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

161 notes · View notes

devildom-moss · 5 months

Note

Im so happy the request box is open again /gen

Could i request a fic where MC has an ed (Eating Disorder)?

Im struggling with eating atm and would love to read about the characters (especially Beel) comforting the MC about it

Thats all, have a good day!

Lots of love, anonymous M /ref

Anon, I'm so sorry that you're struggling. Please do your best to practice harm reduction in regards to your specific eating disorder. I hope that you are able to get the help you require.

I also hope that this fic will be a comfort to you. I tried to keep the specifics of the eating disorder vague since there are so many types and I didn't know which you had. There are some mentions of binging and restricting, so I hope that is okay. The format of this was kind of experimental, so I hope it came out okay.

I love you. Take care (to the best of your ability).

MC with an eating disorder

(SFW) (unspecified eating disorder with mentions of restriction and binging) (could be read as platonic) (all characters) (half fic/half headcanons?)

Word Count: +3,900

You couldn’t hide this forever. They were bound to figure it out eventually. The unfortunate thing about being a person is that no matter how careful you were – how hard you tried – secrecy, subtlety, and perfectionism were not without clumsiness. Even if you wanted to hide this from them forever, you were going to slip up – do something suspicious. Most sicknesses have symptoms, and someone will find them.

Or maybe you had a moment of pure courage and decided to tell them: you needed help. Maybe you understood – even if it felt like a lapse in judgment – that the best outcome for your health and happiness would not be achieved alone. You needed someone – some understanding source of love and support.

The truth leaked out to everyone eventually – and eventually seemed to crash into you like the final domino in an elaborate setup. The most knowledgeable and observant of the bunch couldn’t keep quiet for long. It’s hard to bite your tongue when someone you love is suffering.

You were hardly prepared for the talk they all felt was necessary. Barbatos called for a meeting with you “to discuss a personal matter of utmost importance.” To be fair, they all made the decision not to overwhelm you by not allowing everyone to take part in the meeting.

When you arrived at the castle for the meeting (mostly to prevent nosy eavesdropping), Barbatos escorted you into a room with Simeon, Solomon, Lucifer, and – surprisingly – Mammon. Initially, Lucifer had no intention of allowing Mammon into the meeting, but “being MC’s first” and the fact that he had been the one to alert Lucifer to your struggle held enough sway to expand the meeting size to six.

On your long walk back home, during which you were escorted by Lucifer and Mammon in a miserable, awkward silence that Mammon made multiple attempts to alleviate, you couldn’t stop clinging to their words during that meeting.

You couldn’t remember who spoke first – who had the guts to interrupt such a solemn, all-knowing silence. Lucifer or Barbatos? No. They planned this, so maybe they pushed the softest approach on you – forced a tender heart to confirm that the time had come to talk about your eating (or lack thereof). In that case, it was probably Simeon. Your memory was already so hazy. Maybe you shut down and dissociated. Maybe you would remember if your body wasn’t going through hell. Then again, if it wasn’t, maybe you wouldn’t have had to have that conversation.

– Got bad enough for them to notice, I guess? That was a shitty thought to have. The sooner it gets addressed, the better. No one should have to get “bad enough.” You knew that. –

In truth, they had planned ahead, and Simeon was supposed to ease you into the conversation. Mammon couldn’t let him, though. “Ya know, I don’t care how strong ya get. I still think it’s my job to protect ya. You’re sick right now. All tha signs are there. Ya keep hurtin’ yourself doin’ shit like this. I’m doin’ an awful job keepin’ ya safe, so we’re gonna get ya some help. And we’re gonna be right there with ya the whole time. I’m gonna be there – whatever ya need.”

Simeon was relieved that Mammon spoke first – even if it wasn’t the perfect, delicate approach. Simeon had been something he hadn’t been for a very long time: afraid. They all were to some extent – if not afraid, then nervous. However, with Mammon’s interruption, the structured plan crumbled, and they all spoke in cautious yet clumsy intervals. It seemed suitable, then, that the rest of the meeting only existed in messily cut up pieces that you shoved together. Your brain was the young, sickly protégé of Victor Frankenstein and your recall-creature arose as a bloody, poorly constructed monster. There was no chasing this monster off. It clung to your waist and shadowed your every step. It was a sad, hurtful little creature, but there was love in every bone and mass of flesh.

Lucifer had promised to assist with doctors’ orders, keep an eye on your condition, and accommodate you while ensuring his brothers fell in line. What you remembered was the scent of Demonus that lingered on him when he pulled you against him and told you, “Whatever will ease the burden during the hardest parts of your recovery, you’ll have it.” He had had a drink or two to settle his nerves before you arrived.

Barbatos had promised to get you good human doctors – medical and psychological – who specialized in your particular condition. What you remembered was the unfamiliar look of sorrow on Barbatos’s face as he held your hand and promised, “We will prioritize your comfort – no matter how many doctors you have to go through. You’ll get the treatment you need.”

Solomon had offered his magical skills to assist with your commitment to recovery and to ease any pain or side effects that your eating disorder had and would cause. You remembered him gently holding your face and telling you, “I’d never let anyone hurt my adorable apprentice – and that includes you.”

Simeon had offered you a constant and understanding ear to listen. He was the best alternative when you wouldn’t or couldn’t turn to a professional. Simeon had even promised to help Luke and Raphael navigate your recovery as best as he could. You remembered the grave concern on his face – almost frightening – as he told you, “We love you, and you’re hurting. Please let us help you however we can.”

They hadn’t pressured you to explain everything you were doing or understand all of it on your own. They hadn’t even forced you to respond right away. Everything else they had said – and anything you had said – seeped out your ears until you were left with the sound of your own voice giving them one ashamed and heartfelt “okay.”

The conversation probably hadn’t even happened in that order, but it was a hard one to have, and you couldn’t be faulted for jumbling it up.

“Here, take it.” Mammon interrupted the cacophony in your mind by throwing his jacket over your head and gently petting you through the fabric.

You felt something wet running down your cheek. It must have started to rain while you were thinking. No, wait, am I crying? When did that happen? It wasn’t a lot, but a few stray tears escaped you. You tried to blink them away, but now that you had a way to hide, they flowed easier. “Thanks, Mammon.”

You were scared that you would never like yourself no matter what happened, but they loved you, and that was a start.

When you returned to the House of Lamentation, you hid yourself away in the attic where you could cry alone without the protection of Mammon’s jacket. It was getting hot under there, anyway. Despite their attempts, you still felt overwhelmed by the confrontation, and you just wanted to hide from everyone – well, maybe not everyone.

It was a comfort when you heard a soft knock at the door and saw that fluffy orange hair peeking in. “MC, can I come in?”

He found you, and something about that melted your heart, even though you thought you wanted to be alone. You wiped any stray tears from your eyes and cleared your throat. “Yeah, you can come in, Beel.”

Surprisingly, when he sat down next to you on the bed, his lashes stuck to his skin like he had been crying, too. There was a long silence, during which he just stared at you. Sometimes, you liked it when he looked at you. You’d see all the affection on his face and recognize the love behind it. Other times, it made your skin crawl as insecurity squirmed around through your veins like a parasite. You saw everything you deemed wrong with yourself, and there was no way to hide it. This time, it felt different – some slow-cooked stew of guilt and sorrow. You imagined an inflated, tainted feeling of pity in that look where it was absent. In reality, “pity” from Beel used that word in its purest, sweetest form; there was no negativity or disregard – only sympathy and compassion.

Beel leaned down and bonked his forehead against your shoulder, leaving it there. His breath was slow and even, finding comfort in the physical touch, as he built up the courage to speak.

“Do I make your eating disorder worse? I’m always eating and talking about food.”

“No . . . well yes – but no.” Beel pulled back to look at you, doing everything he could to not look hurt and sorry. You felt the cracks in the dam begin to burst. Either you patch them up now, or you lift the gates and relieve some of the pressure. You chose the latter. “You made it easier to hide it. I could give you my food whenever I was restricting, and you were so happy to be fed that you never worried about me being hungry. Then, I got to watch you eat. It was cathartic – watching you do something I couldn’t do. You made it easy to cover up a binge, too. No matter how out of control I felt, I couldn’t make a dent in the amount of food you ate. That kind of made me feel better, but it enabled me. The extra food I ate, the snack boxes and wrappers, the disappearing food – everyone assumed it was all you most of the time. It saved me a lot of embarrassment, I guess, but it didn’t take away the shame. And to be honest, I’m kind of jealous of you. You’re out of control when you eat sometimes, and then you have all the control in the world to work out. But you look amazing, and you seem happy. I can see my impulses in you, and I think, if it was just a little different – maybe if I was better and more disciplined, I’d be more like you and less like me. I know that isn’t how it works; it’s just how I see things.”

You hadn’t expected all of that to come rushing out. Then again, neither did Beel, but he sat there firm and strong through it all. For a brief moment, a cruel and twisted feeling popped into your mind. What is he doing? Is he one of those idiots who stands in the path of a tropical storm because they think they can take it? He’s going to get hurt. Just move out of the way. You knew better than that train of thought. Beel would make himself an immovable structure through all of this if you’d let him. Hell, he’d make the effort even if you didn’t.

You cast your eyes down to the bedspread and the way Beel laid his hands down on it in front of him, with one cradled in the other while he ran his thumb along the side of his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Beel interrupted. “It’s a lot to process, but thank you for telling me.”

Beel let out a calm, steady breath before standing up. He offered you his hand with a rueful smile.

“What is it?” you asked with your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Do you want to dance for a bit? I know we don’t have music, but I think better when I move.” Beel was embarrassed by the admission – but more embarrassed by the strangeness of his request. He added, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“We can dance.” You took his hand and let him make the clumsy attempt to lead. He wasn’t close enough nor graceful, but he was trying.

“I’m not very good at this, but I want you to get better. I hope you don’t mind learning together.” He had never had to help someone recover. You had to learn how to get better, and he had to learn how to support that.

“I don’t mind.”

“Even if I mess it up?” Even if he said the wrong thing or accidentally triggered you? Even if he couldn’t protect you every time? Even if you found a new place to hide and he didn’t come find you right away?

“You don’t have to be perfect.”

“Neither do you.” Beel had sharpened his words for that one, and all you could do was give him an apologetic chuckle. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t –”

“– I could, and that scares me. I love you so much. I will still love you during recovery. I’ll love you through relapses. I’ll love you when – and if – you fully recover. There’s nothing wrong with your willpower or your body. You’re sick and hurt. We’ll be okay.” Beel had added the last part for his own comfort before he pulled you closer. He stopped trying to dance and just held you against him, as if to remind you that he was there.

With the professional help came the personal support.

Lucifer keeps track of you and your meds. He checks in with you and your doctor and ensures you take your medication in a timely manner. He removes scales from the house or keeps them safely hidden from you. He keeps his brothers up to date on your recovery plan (with your permission), so that you don’t have to deal with it. He gently pushes you along when he catches you staring in a mirror unfavorably.

Mammon magically removes all the nutrition information – barring ingredients and allergy information – from groceries and snacks whenever someone does the shopping. He also walks you to all your medical and psychological doctor’s appointments. More importantly, he keeps you distracted when you feel bad – movies, games, dancing in clubs, you name it. However, he won’t take you gambling with him anymore, horrified that you might jump from one maladaptive behavior to another.

Leviathan, whose entire existence is antithetical to normie values, musters up the courage to remind you that he thinks you look amazing and that you don’t have to worry about what normies think. He is almost always there to play games with you or read manga or watch anime – especially when binge urges come. He’s happy to spend time with you, so don’t be ashamed of the reason you need a distraction. He makes and buys cosplay outfits for you and spends half an hour hyping you up so that you feel confident – even if you never end up wearing it outside.

Satan helps monitor your nutrition and plans meals that will help you avoid malnutrition. He works especially hard on this during the first few months of recovery and after relapses when it’s the most critical. He reads up on eating disorder treatments and studies anecdotal success stories so that he can help equip you with more tools to ensure your full recovery. He also offers distractions when you need them. Sometimes, he even reads to you.

Asmo compliments you endlessly – almost daily if you let him. He finds cute clothes for you that fit you in ways that make you feel comfortable and look amazing. He does your makeup and hair if you want it – anything to make you feel better about yourself. He’ll take pictures of you if you let him. Hell, he’ll arrange a full boudoir photoshoot for you if it boosts your confidence. Asmo has always been able to find beauty in anyone, so he tries to lean into body positivity and prove to you that there is beauty in every body because being alive is majestic all on its own. It’s equally important what Asmo doesn’t do, though. He stops body checking and talking about diets around you. He diets less, and when he does, he keeps the details of it away from you. This isn’t exactly supportive, but he will offer to praise you in bed and make you feel so gorgeous and so good that your mind has no room for self-doubt.

Beelzebub eats meals and snacks with you – especially when you are having trouble eating. He’s great to have around when you want to try eating something or multiple things off a menu, but you’re worried about feeling the need to keep eating after you’re full. He’s always happy to eat the leftovers. He constantly tells you how happy he feels when he sees you enjoying food with him. He also exercises with you – taking special care to ensure that you aren’t pushing yourself too far. He just wants you to get the movement that supports your health. He probably also teaches you something like boxing to help you release anger and anxiety during your recovery. Additionally, it’s hard for anyone to make you feel weird or bad about your exercise levels when Beel is around to level them if they so much as look at you the wrong way. Alternatively, he also accommodates you by helping you exercise in private (a home gym or body weight exercises; if your mind is in the gutter, that’s fine too).

Belphie walks you home from all your appointments. Mammon could do it, and it’s a lot of effort for him to walk you home, especially when he wasn’t already out and about, but he wants to show you that you are worth the effort. He threatened to curse and beat up Mammon if he didn’t let him walk you home. He likes the idea of you knowing that after a check-up or a draining therapy session, you can expect to see him waiting outside for you. He’s never late, either. He watches the stars with you and reminds you that you are beautiful to him but in the vastness of the universe, your body, your weight, your sense of control – none of it matters as much as you think it does. He is also an anarchist, and that especially includes diet culture. “Fuck society. I just want you to be alive and to take naps with me.” Also, he thinks your body is incredibly comfortable to nap on, but he tries not to actually say that.

Diavolo employs the best doctors he can find for you – with help from Barbatos. He adores complimenting you, so you can expect him to continue reminding you how amazing you are – both mentally and physically. He doesn’t have as much time to spend supporting you, but if he can provide you with any services, he’ll do it. His favorite thing to do is to take you shopping and buy clothes and accessories for you. If you like it and wearing it makes you feel better, he’ll get it for you. It’s a good distraction, and seeing you smiling in outfits that he got for you warms his heart. When he does have spare time, he’ll try to spend it with you so he can check in and see how you’re doing – but also so he can just be around you.

Barbatos offers to make lunch for you sometimes. Once he gets your permission, he makes adorable and appetizing dishes so that when you see them, you’re actually happy to eat them (usually. Some days will just be bad, and there’s nothing more he can do). He listens to you without judgment. He’ll pour you a cup of tea, offer you something to eat, and let you pour your heart out. He also sews outfits specifically for you, using it as an excuse to both provide personal attention and to tell you how incredible and breathtaking you look.

Luke has a surprisingly good grasp on the situation thanks to Simeon, Solomon, and his own reading. He offers to accompany you to the store when you have to buy groceries. He also does activities with you that don’t involve food – mostly games, puzzles, and going on walks. However, if you’re okay with it, he brings you into the kitchen to cook and bake with him (and sometimes with Barbatos, Simeon, and/or Beel). Maybe it’s because he’s younger, but unlike Simeon or Barbatos, Luke has more courage to invite you into a potentially stressful situation for your eating disorder in an attempt to help you establish a healthy relationship with food and cooking.

Simeon is always there to listen – especially once he figures out how to make a proper video call. He also provides you with plenty of distractions. As the author of the bunch, he’s obligated to encourage you to write or journal to help process your recovery (and just for fun). Consequently, you have a lot of chill writing dates. Sometimes that means relaxing in Simeon’s room with him while you both quietly write your own things. Other times, he invites you out to pretty or interesting locations. When you go out, he does everything he can to ensure your comfort. You’re free to bail whenever you feel the need to.

Solomon, like Satan, does extensive research on eating disorders. He’ll go so far as to interrogate other sorcerers about any magic they might know that will help your chances of a full recovery. If a solution exists, he’ll find it. If it doesn’t, he’ll try whatever options he has to improve your chances of living a long, happy life. However, his studying usually happens behind your back. One of the most important things Solomon does is treat you like normal. It can be a comfort. Unfortunately, on the occasion that Solomon offers you food he’s made, when you refuse, he gets worried about your eating disorder. My guy, it’s not the eating disorder; it’s your atrocious cooking.

Thirteen monitors your candle closely, looking for faster or slower burning rates to gauge your health on her own. If something seems off, she knows it’s time to speak up. She brings you adorable and delicious food and drinks – with your permission – and eats with you so that you can try to enjoy food. If you have concerns about drinks and liquid calories, she will try to help you ease that by offering you sips of her drinks and reminding you that it’s okay. If you like the drink, she’ll happily let you have the rest of it. She will also invite you out to eat and, like Beel, she’ll eat whatever you won’t finish. Outside of food, she distracts you by letting you in on her trap building process and bringing you along to test them out. Your laugh when one of her traps successfully ensnares someone is precious to her. She is another good confidant when you need someone to talk to.

Raphael uses his magic to heal you whenever you’re in pain (if eating hurts your stomach, heartburn, if your body is sore from exercise, etc.). He puts blessings on you – sometimes without your knowledge – to help you feel better mentally, too. Like Barbatos, Raphael sews new outfits for you, but he mostly focuses on trying to tailor your existing clothes to accommodate how your body might change during recovery. Some clothes can be irreplaceable, and he wants you to still be able to wear them no matter how you change.

Mephisto is probably the last person to find out, which annoys him. To compensate for being last, he writes up and prints an entire report, highlighting your positive, admirable traits. It’s practically a love letter. However, this one isn’t for the paper, so don’t worry about being perceived by others. In fact, he’d be embarrassed if anyone else found out about it. He just wants you to have a reminder of how amazing you are whenever you begin to doubt yourself. He’ll be more lenient about you hanging out in the newspaper room whenever you want. Although he won’t admit it, Mephisto asked Satan for a list of safe foods and drinks he can keep around that you’ll eat, and now there’s always safe food in the newspaper room.

A/N: This one was kind of heavy, so I'll try to pick a more lighthearted request next time. Also, just as a reminder, you can still provide input for what to do to celebrate the 1 year anniversary next month. Check the post "Input request" for more info (under the tag #moss update)

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bungo-neurodivergent-dogs · 1 month

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" Dazai is canonically underweight for his age and height (based on his canonical weight…) so he probably has some sort of unspecified eating disorder, or just forgets to. "

Requested by anon

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #bsd headcannons #bungo neurodivergent dogs

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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Layoffs and Misunderstandings - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda have been best friends for years, and keeping a job doesn't seem to be your strong suit. But maybe this time will be different, and no buried feelings should get in the way of that.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language, clothed sex, thigh grinding, bottom!wanda, heavy make-out, kissing, high school AU with age unspecified, allusions to eating disorder, bestfriends to lovers, bad jokes and a few easter eggs, mentions of past-relationships || Words: 7.445K

A/N-> I had this idea yesterday and wrote it down while working, so forgive me for any mistakes. It's something short(ish), and it has some open points in the story because apparently I have a soft spot for series. Hope you like it, I missed writing AU and Friends to Lovers.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

--//--

"If you don't come down in thirty seconds, you will need to find another job."

You rolled your eyes at your best friend's message, biting back a smile as you finished putting on your uniform jacket before grabbing the small electronic device from the nightstand. You made your way through the window, already able to see the silhouette in the distance of the smaller girl waiting at the entrance of the building as you made your way down the fire escape until you reached her.

"Good morning, Wanda, you look beautiful today." You greeted her with a slight tease, knowing she must have been annoyed by your lateness. Confirmation of that came with a pinch on your ribs, although Wanda muttered a ‘don't try to flatter me’ before she started walking.

Your new job was not far away. You and Wanda had landed two positions at the Falcon's Bowling House, and although the uniform was ridiculous, it paid decently and the supervisors were siblings who were kind enough not to mind you and Wanda studying around when possible.

It was your ninth job since high school started. As fate would have it, you had a bad track record in keeping these jobs. The first time it happened, Wanda didn't work with you, even though she was directly linked to the cause of your resignation. You were working as a waitress in a local coffee shop, and some idiot thought it was funny to harass you, and Wanda - who was visiting you on her lunch break - flipped the coffee jug over the idiot customer's head. The commotion escalated to the point where employees of the laundromat across from the coffee shop where Wanda worked came to watch the fight, and you and she ended up out of jobs.

It seemed to become a pattern after that. No matter what, you and Wanda always ended up losing your employment. Whether it was arguments with bitchy customers to your disastrous unrequited crushes on your supervisors (it happened twice, and Wanda mocks you about it every chance she gets), you and she simply weren't employed for more than three months.

But you were trying to stay optimistic about the Wilson's. Soon the admission letters would arrive, and you and Wanda would leave Westview for college. It would be nice to be able to save some money while you still can.

"Have you had lunch, detka?" Wanda asked, arm intertwined with yours on the way to the bowling store.

You skipped a puddle of water from the previous night's rain, laughing along with her before answering:

"Nah, I wasn't hungry." You said, which caused the girl next to you to grimace slightly.

"Dorogoya, you need to eat" She retorted but you just shrugged, which made the other girl sigh. "Let's get something to eat at the bowling alley snack bar. That's not a request." She clarified in the last sentence when you hesitated.

Soon, the two of you arrived at your new workplace. The bowling alley was decent, typically American, and empty at this hour because it was not yet open.

Sam Wilson was waiting for you at the entrance with a glass of soda.

"Hey, new girls, good afternoon." He greeted the smiling boy. "Ready to get started?"

Once you and Wanda agreed, he introduced you to the place for a few minutes before explaining your tasks. When you had a few minutes, Wanda dragged you into the cafeteria and you had something to eat before parting for each of you to attend to your duties.

The bowling alley opened at two in the afternoon, and as soon as it did, you felt a soft anxiety rise in the pit of your stomach at the image of teenagers entering. But you met Wanda's gaze from across the room, finishing setting up some pins in the lane, and she smiled and gave you a wink for confidence, and you felt better immediately.

As your shift went on, you concluded that working there was less tiring than at the Café five months ago, but it was stressful to see how many of your schoolmates were present.

Fortunately, your first day ended very well. Without any confusion or fights, and you and Wanda returned home together, arms linked, gossiping about everyone you saw and laughing at each other's comments.

As soon as you arrived at the entrance to the Apartment Complex where you live, you stepped aside to say goodbye, performing an exaggerated bow as if Wanda were royalty that made her laugh.

"Thank you for your lovely company, princess." You joked, smiling at the way Wanda pulled the ends of her ketchup-dirty bowling uniform - she had been working in the cafeteria all day - like an imaginary dress. "Looking forward to our next date, at that hospice we call a school."

Wanda laughed but raised a finger in warning at you as she began to walk away to the side of your building. "Don't forget the article for Ms.Harkness. She'll eat your liver if you're late again."

"I can play dead..." You joke and burst out laughing when Wanda grimaces and looks ready to punch you.

Even after you have already arrived at your apartment, and have left your keys in the doorway and taken off your shoes, your mind keeps going over the previous interactions, the jokes that made your stomach hurt, and the smiling face of your best friend. That's probably why you were smiling too, and of course, it's totally platonic. Your brother doesn't think so.

"By the look on your face, you were with the neighbor." Andrew teased from the living room armchair. He had his legs on the table, and his hands were occupied with the video game controller. The same position as Tom, but the younger man was on the carpet.

Your smile vanished immediately, giving way to a grimace.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You grumbled as you took off your jacket and your brothers exchanged giggles.

"Nothing." They replied in unison, their gazes glazed on the television. You rolled your eyes impatiently and made your way to the kitchen.

You found a note from Tobey, your older brother, about dinner being on the stove and his shift ending at dawn, but you paid no mind to food and made your way to your room.

Your thoughts immediately returned to Wanda, and you scratched the back of your neck absently. You couldn't understand why your brothers were being strange about it. You and Wanda had known each other since you were a child when her family moved from Sokovia to Queens, and even though the apartment was on another block, you and Wanda always ended up on the same playground. She and her twin brother - Pietro, who was closer to your brothers than to you - went to the same school too, and the friendship only grew over the years. Wanda was your favorite person, and there was nothing strange about smiling when you remembered her jokes. Andrew and Tom were trying to annoy you, you concluded during the shower.

And if because you were busy mentally repeating that nothing was wrong, you forgot your homework.

—---///—---

You had a detention calendar in your hand, but you had your face hidden in Wanda's lap as she smooshed your hair.

"I can hear your thoughts, and I know you want to say I told you so." You murmured against her stomach with your eyes closed, hearing Wanda laugh softly.

"If you could really hear my thoughts, you would know that I am about how it is possible that Kate is a worse gay disaster than you." She retorts, and you open your eyes with a grimace. Wanda was looking straight ahead, and you adjust to follow the direction of her gaze, noticing that a few feet away, your friend Kate Bishop is visually having trouble holding a conversation with her long-time crush, Yelena Belova.

You and Wanda had a free period because you dropped Mr. Pym's class in the second year, and the next periods didn't start for another fifteen minutes. Wanda found a corner in one of the corridors, and you were a little depressed about the amount of detention you received from Miss Harkness, and seeing your expression, she pulled you to her, and that's how you ended up in this position - your head on her lap, and your legs outstretched. Wanda's fingers scratch your scalp and almost succeed in making you fall asleep.

"What do you think they're saying?" You ask, turning your gaze back to Wanda. She bites back a smile, still looking forward although her fingers continued to move between the strands of your hair.

"Oh Yelena, I can't stop talking about you, my friends can't take it anymore." Wanda jokes around doing a very bad and exaggerated imitation of Kate, who gets a loud laugh out of you. She looks down, laughing too. "Please be my girlfriend. I love you so much." She continues and you both giggle together.

"So you finally had the courage to confess?" Someone suddenly interrupted, and you and Wanda exchanged confused chuckles as Natasha Romanoff put her hands in her jacket and leaned her shoulder on the wall. "I'm just messing with you guys, obviously." She merely clarifies when you and Wanda let out confusing questions. Neither of you insists any further. "What's this, Kate's finally making a move?"

"I'll bet you five bucks she won't." You say quickly, and Natasha makes a thoughtful expression, looking at the couple ahead and seeming to try to read their expressions to decide. Wanda raises an eyebrow at you.

"What money are you going to bet with, moya lyubova?" She teases and you huff in false offense, crossing your arms which makes Wanda laugh before smiling affectionately at you.

Natasha looks ready to answer the bet for as soon as she sees the way Wanda is looking at you, she takes on a new expression.

"I might bet on another couple." She says mysteriously, and Wanda looks away before you can catch her looking, and you end up getting confused by the whole intersection.

"Yeah? Who?" you ask, and to your surprise, Natasha hesitates. She looks at Wanda for a second before forcing a smile.

"I came here with a mission actually." She begins. "You know Carol Danvers, from the Football team? She asked me about you."

You frown in surprise, and sit up, missing the way Wanda hesitates and swallows dryly because you are absorbing the revelation.

"Carol Danvers? The most popular girl in this school? You're shitting me, Romanoff." You retort incredulously, but Nat laughs, shrugging.

"Hey, I'm just the messenger girl." She justifies herself. "And Carol's no celebrity, she's just a pretty girl who happens to be popular. It's no big deal. We were in calculus class, and she came up to me and asked me in the most casual way she could if you and I were friends."

You let out an embarrassed grunt. "Oh my God! Are you really sure? And what did you say?" You questioned already getting up and getting another laugh from Nat who immediately narrated the whole interaction.

"[...] So maybe, I'll bet on another couple by the end of the year." Commented the redhead.

"That's so cool, she's like so pretty! And remember when we played together in first grade? Maybe that's why she was always so nice to me, even after I left the team..." You began to theorize, and despite the amusement of Nat, who murmured to you to try not to raise so many expectations, there was an uneasiness growing in the pit of Wanda's stomach.

She stood up shortly after you did, and once the story was properly explained, she crossed her arms and forced a smile.

"Our class is about to start, let's get inside before it ends in more trouble." She tells you giving a gentle tug on your blouse, and you don't notice anything strange because you were too excited about the whole thing.

Wanda doesn't pay much attention to your comments on the grounds that she needs to concentrate on class, and you immediately apologize but take nothing personally. Maybe you should do the same as her, actually.

But when school ends, you have detentions and Wanda just says goodbye by text message, saying she was going home to help Pietro, you think she's distant.

—---///—---

Unlike you, Kate Bishop had managed to ask a girl out. She and Yelena were going casual and it was working as far as you know since, in the last few weeks, the presence of Natasha's little sister has been bigger and more constant in your group of friends.

While for you, even though Carol Danvers is a frequent customer at the bowling alley, every time you have the opportunity to ask her out, you lose your nerve. It's Danvers' fault, you decide. She turned out to be completely different from what you expected. Carol was a very popular girl, but apparently, this had to do with her best friend Maria Rambeau, who had way better social skills, than you and Carol.

Of course, you thought it was adorable that the blonde blushed and stumbled over her own words, being a bit evasive about basically everything, but it is also a little frustrating that she was completely dense to flirting.

You were about to give up on this whole story, when almost four weeks since it began, Carol finally appeared alone - that is, without the company of her other friends - at the cafeteria counter.

The place was half empty at that time, and as soon as you saw the blonde approaching, you did your best to improve your appearance and your gaze ran around the place after Wanda. The brunette was back to her normal self; she didn't say much about Carol, she would listen to you make comments about your failed dating attempts, but didn't offer exciting opinions on the subject like Kate or Yelena. And excluding this dating thing, nothing changed between the two of you.

As soon as the brunette met your gaze from the sneakers counter, she smiled, but seeing your expression and soon realizing Carol's presence, she looked away and busied herself with cleaning an apparently already shiny counter.

Carol offered you a gentle smile as you reached the counter.

"Hey Parker, how are you doing?"

You smiled too, telling her everything was fine while mentally repeating that this was the time. Carol didn't make you feel anything like in the movies, such as butterflies in your stomach or whatever, the most you had was the common nervousness of social anxiety. But you figured the movies must be silly, or maybe things would happen when you and she went out together.

As soon as the blonde in front of you's orders were ready, you went to the counter holding French fries and a soda.

"Thanks." She murmured smiling again, and you built up the courage.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" You blurted out all at once, and Carol, who was already turning around with her orders, looked at you again with a certain amount of curiosity.

"You just did." She joked, but you only gave a short laugh, twiddling your fingers together.

"Do you want to, uh, go somewhere?" you began awkwardly, feeling your face burn. Carol's confused expression didn't help. "If you're free, of course! L-like to the movies or, I don't know, the mall..."

"Oh, sure, I think the girls would love a new place-"

"N-no." You interrupt embarrassedly, shaking your head. Carol blinks in confusion, "I meant just the two of us."

"Oh, like a date." She murmurs in genuine surprise, and you bounce slightly in anticipation, nodding in agreement. But Carol hesitates, clearing her throat and setting down the food items on the counter before looking at you again. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I don't...I like someone else." You nod frantically, shame filling your chest that you try to sink down. "I didn't know you looked at me like that. I didn't..." Carol tries clearly clumsily, placing a hand on your neck. "I'm sorry. You're very nice, really. But I don't... I actually like Natasha." You blink in shock at the revelation, but Carol clears her throat and takes the orders again. "Again, sorry. I hope this doesn't make things awkward between us. Like I said, I think you're really nice, but as a friend." Said the blonde, smiling briefly before leaving the counter.

You stared at the empty place for a good few minutes until the next customer appeared and you had to blink away the shock and get back to work.

As soon as your shift ended, however, you were practically running away from the Bowling alley. Wanda didn't understand your rush, but a tall boy was asking her something about school and you said you needed to go home, so you ended up leaving without her.

The way back alone without Wanda and her sarcastic jokes didn't make you feel any better about that day.

–//–

Friday arrives in a rush, mostly because you think you're just moving in the automatics.

Carol is a nice girl, but she's still terrible about keeping secrets, and somehow, the news that she rejected you runs all over school, and everyone seems to decide to believe the rumor they find most amusing, even though Danvers - when asked - claims it was a cute misunderstanding.

Natasha apologizes as soon as she hears about the story. She is evidently embarrassed, but you assure her that it's okay, and are quite content to torment her for not realizing that Danvers was hitting on her.

It is at school that you discover that the tall boy talking to Wanda on Wednesday is named Vison Jarvis Stark, and he was asking if she were from the same school because he was interested in calling her to his brother's party, to which you and all the girls were eventually invited as well.

Romanoff is very excited to go because the entire soccer team, and that includes Carol, are going to the party, and she confirms her attendance as soon as she finds out about that. You, however, are not in the least bit excited about going to watch some college freshman flirting with Wanda. And you have no idea why the idea bothers you so much, maybe it's the possibility that Wanda will choose Jarvis' college and change all plans about you two going to NYU together just for him.

"Are you really sure you don't want to go with us?" Wanda asks - God she looks absolutely gorgeous in her party outfit, her leather jacket, and her red skirt - from the fire escape of your room. You are thankful that you chose to sit on the ledge because you don't think your legs would have held you upright when the scent of Wanda's soft perfume arose as you opened the window.

"I'm sure, cupcake." You say forcing a smile. "By the way, you look amazing. I'm almost jealous of Hearing boy."

Wanda laughs softly with pink cheeks. "His name is Vision." She corrects but you just bite back a smile, staring at her. She returns your intense gaze a moment later, and you feel your heart miss two beats. So you look away.

"I'm going to stay around. Maybe finish Stranger Things or some vampire series. I hear Netflix has a sapphic one now." You tell her, and Wanda nods half hesitantly.

"We haven't talked about Carol yet." She declares suddenly, surprising you. "I just want you to know that I am here. If you want or need, to talk about that. Okay?"

Your chest fills with warm affection. Wanda is always so considerate. She seemed to have some problem with the blonde, maybe she didn't really like her. But here she was, being your best friend and reminding you that she is here for you.

You smile, nodding. "It was okay, it's not like I've never been rejected before, right?" you joke, deflecting the seriousness of the subject and Wanda frowns slightly. But you stand up and force another smile. "Go on, Maximoff. Don't be late, or you'll miss your ride. You just tell Sight boy to bring you home before ten."

She smiled at your teasing about the name, and nodded, looking at you for a second before waving and starting to descend the stairs.

You made your way to the safety of your blankets, where you found it possible to ignore the bitterness of seeing your friend going off to meet another boy.

–//–

The soft sounds of something tapping on your window caught your attention away from the movie you were watching. You sighed softly, it was so warm and comfortable, but still, you didn't mind pushing the covers away and going to open the window - closed a few hours ago when the night wind started to bother you - to allow your best friend in.

"Hey pretty girl, how was the party?" You asked as soon as you made room for Wanda to enter, and because you were going back to bed, you didn't notice the other's rosy cheeks from the nickname or the way she looked at you.

"It was nice, a little boring without you." She replied but you just giggled, muttering that Wanda was sweet before burying yourself in your blankets again. Wanda shifted the weight of her feet with hesitation. "Hey, Y/N?"

"Huh?" You asked distractedly, setting the laptop back on your lap with the movie paused.

"Can I sleep here?"

You gave her a sideways smile. "And since when do you have to ask?"

Your response made her smile, and Wanda quickly worked to remove her shoes and jacket before moving to the bed, the two of you exchanging complicit giggles as you pulled the covers up for her to join you.

"What are you watching?" She asked beside you, snuggling up so she could see the screen as well.

"I let Netflix pick it out for me and ended up on this." You replied pointing your chin lightly. "Angry white cowboys."

Wanda breaks into a laugh, but you can't do more than smile half breathlessly, suddenly very aware of how she was practically lying on top of you, her head resting against your shoulder.

"It seems fun." Wanda murmured about five minutes into the film, and you offered a hum of agreement, though all you've absorbed in the last few minutes has been her perfume. There's a long pause between you; The protagonist shoots some bad guys during the bank robbery, and when the horses are running away, Wanda gets a little tense. "Vision kissed me."

Neither of you takes your eyes off the screen, but you are almost as tense as Wanda.

"Alright." That's what you mutter back, your fingers tugging at loose threads under the blanket. "D-did you like it?"

Wanda gives a short, humorless laugh, straightening up to sit on the bed, and though you miss her warmth immediately, you say nothing.

"I punched him." She declares and you blink in surprise before giving a confused laugh.

"What?"

She grunts in embarrassment, shaking her knees. "I don't know, I just panicked." She confesses half annoyed. "One minute we were talking to everyone around, then he said he wanted to give me something. He took me into a corner and tried to start another conversation, and I went to answer about college and he was all over me. I punched him because it was so sudden!"

You laughed, because how could you not? Wanda's grimace made you shake your head guiltily and stop, however.

"Sorry, it's just that, you're a disaster darling." You teased sitting up too and Wanda, though laughing softly, pinched you in the ribs.

"I know, it was awful." She muttered.

"And what happened then?" You asked curiously, and Wanda sighed softly.

"I apologized of course, but half the party was already staring at us. So I decided to leave, hoping I wouldn't have to deal with such humiliation until Monday." She retorts and you grimaced softly, reaching out to pull Wanda by the shoulders to you. She hugs you back in the same second, hiding her face in your neck.

"I'm sorry, baby." You say to her, feeling her squeeze you tighter. A thought occurs to you, and despite the way your heart flutters, you handle asking, "Hey Wands?" You call out to her, and she hums as a sign that she's listening. "If you hadn't panicked, would you have kissed him back?"

Wanda tenses, and breaks the embrace, a confused expression stares back at you and studies your face. "Why are you asking me this?" She inquires instead of answering your question, and you force a laugh, trying to sound casual as you shrug.

"I guess I just imagined that in an alternate world, you're making out with Vision right now." You state with another embarrassed laugh, but Wanda frowns looking like she doesn't believe your words. "Anyway, I'm sure you two can clear things up at school. The guy would be a real idiot to let a girl like you get away... God, can you stop looking at me like that? It's so disconcerting." You let go at once, your cheeks burning at the look on her face. Wanda's face turns red as well, but she doesn't look away.

"I don't wanna make out with Vision. " She confesses and you swallow dryly because she is looking down at your lips.

“Who do you wanna make out with then?” You manage to ask in a shaky whisper and instead of answering, Wanda breaks the distance.

Her lips, though hungry, were so soft. Wanda's hands settled on your shoulders, and she pressed against you, a deep sigh escaping her lips as you kissed her back with the same intensity.

It seemed absurd that you had gone so long without doing this. So many slumber parties, and coming home together. So many moments with Wanda right next to you, and you could have had this all along? All those soft sighs, the feel of her lips or her hands squeezing you.

Wanda slid her tongue inside, wrapping it around yours and gaining dominance with ease and you melted.

It was so overwhelming, so good it was almost suffocating. Your hands moved forward, pulling her close until she was on your lap, the new closeness combined with the sensation of your tongues dancing together making your head spin.

The sighs gradually turned to low moans that made you shudder and squeeze her waist, which only encouraged other equally sinful sounds to escape from her lips that only parted when her mouth descended to your neck. Wanda was all over you, and still, it wasn't enough.

Your fingers were caressing the skin of her hips below the waist but you didn't venture upward. Wanda grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled your face back to hers, missing your mouth, but the action drew an affected moan from your lips that caused her to stare at you with completely darkened eyes for a second before she kissed you with more passion than before.

You only really understood how affected Wanda was when she adjusted herself on top of your thigh, and the skirt allowed you to feel her wetness leaking past the fabric into your pajamas. You broke a kiss with an aroused groan, pressing your hands on her hips to hold her in place against you as you hid your face in her neck, a shaky 'fuck' leaving your lips.

Wanda began to grind against your thigh and the sensation was almost as intoxicating as her lips. She grabbed onto your shoulders again, eyes closed tightly as she tried to ease the aching in between her legs.

Your mouth returned to her neck, and your hands on her hips tried to help her with her uncoordinated movements until Wanda had to bite down on your shoulder to muffle a whimper. Your whole body was vibrating with excitement at the feel of her warm wetness dripping onto your clothes.

"You're making such a mess, pretty girl." You gasped against her ear, and the husky tone and nickname were enough for Wanda to let out a long, affected moan, arching her body before she heaved against you. Your hands went to your thighs, and an impressed giggle escaped your lips. "Did you just...?"

Before she could confirm, someone knocked on the door and completely broke the bubble of arousal you two were in.

"Hey troublemaker, Andy said he saw Wanda climb through the window. We have rules about doors and yours is locked." It was Tobey, and Wanda was off your lap in record time, while you fumbled with the covers as you stood up. "Please don't tell me you're doing drugs, May's heart couldn't take that."He joked.

You rolled your eyes at the suggestion, and stumbled to the doorknob, hesitating as you remember what you were doing. You tried to adjust your crumpled clothes and tousled hair as best you could before opening it.

"Heey, Tobey, my favorite brother, good night." You greeted receiving an arched eyebrow and a sideways smile.

"Favorite brother? By god, this way I'm going to think you were actually doing drugs." He retorts, and through the door opening, nods to the girl inside. "Good evening to you too, Maximoff. Pietro said he was going to buy you guys a pizza by the way, because of Erik's shift at the factory. He asked me to let you know."

Wanda was better at disguising it than you were. Or at least smart enough to just nod, and you almost shuddered at the thought of how hoarse her voice must have been zooming after she came.

Oh my god.

Wanda. Your best friend Wanda. Who seconds ago just...?

"Are you okay? You look a bit pale." Your brother cuts you off with a worried expression.

"What? What are you talking about? I look great! It must be the cold or the heat? I don't know what makes you go pale." You babble, which only adds to the other's grimace.

"Jesus, little sister, what are you up to?" He cuts you off with a laugh. "You're really acting like you're doing something you shouldn't be doing in that room..." He teases and you choke.

"I-I wasn't!" You immediately deny it. "We weren't doing anything! Really, nothing. Just watching movies, like two good, platonic friends."

Tobey laughed confusedly, shaking his head. "You're so weird." He muttered waving goodbye to Wanda before turning away. You waited for him to disparate down the hallway to the downstairs before closing the door, but by the time you looked back, Wanda was already in her shoes and jacket again, ready to head downstairs.

"Wands, where are you...?"

"Sorry, I need to go home." She interrupted without meeting your eyes and was out of your room so much faster than the previous events had happened.

You looked down after a moment, the wet mark Wanda had left on your pajamas, and pressed two hands under your face, grunting a little.

What the hell just happened?

Of course, there wasn't any chance you'd fall asleep after that, and you spent the rest of the night until Sunday morning remembering the feeling of Wanda kissing you.

She didn't respond to your messages, and you tried to respect her time. There was no chance of this running your friendship since it was Wanda who started the whole thing, right?

But when the weekend was over and you were still without any replies from her, you started to worry that the chance was there.

—//—

Wanda was clearly avoiding you. Which should be an almost impossible task because besides going to the same school, and having the same group of friends, she still worked with you.

So when four whole days had passed since you two had kissed, and you hadn't had any real conversation beyond awkward greetings in the hallways, you'd think she'd be congratulated for pulling it off.

Of course, everyone noticed the blatant difference in your guys behavior, but you just dribbled out questions justifying that it was because of her studies. A lie that Natasha didn't buy one bit.

The redhead showed up at your work, and you had half a second to disguise that you were staring at Wanda across the bowling alley cleaning the lane, which didn't fool Romanoff very well.

"Hey Parker, what's up?" She started casually, leaning her arms on the counter you were tending.

"Hey, Nat, I'm doing fine, just a little tired. How about you?"

"Great. Carol and I are going to the movies later and I'll pick her up. I thought I'd say hi to my favorite couple first." She retorted and you gave an embarrassed laugh, feeling your face flush.

"Wanda and I aren't a couple." You muttered and Nat raised an eyebrow in fake confusion.

"Yeah, Kate and Yelena are at the Pizzeria next door, I was talking about them, but I guess your brain already imagines differently right?" she teases, and despite your flushed cheeks, you raise a finger at her.

"Idiot." You retort, and the redhead laughs, watching you try to pretend you're working when in fact you're just stealing glances at the brunette across the room.

"What's going on between you two anyway? Everyone has noticed that Wanda seems to be running away from you like the plague."

You let out a humorless laugh. "First, thank you Romanoff. That really helps my self-esteem." You joke, getting a soft laugh from her. "And second, we're fine, Wanda just needs a little alone time."

Natasha hums thoughtfully, resting her chin on one hand.

"Did you guys fight or something?" She insists, and you sigh softly.

"No, Nat."

"Not even an argument?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I swear we're fine." You say, but you're not even sure of that. Natasha even less so.

"It's just that..." She says half hesitantly. "You know what, it doesn't matter. If you say everything is fine, nothing is going to change that."

You frown at her words. "What would change that?"

Nat gives a short, confused laugh. "What, she didn't tell you? Yelena won't shut up about it, excited to know she's going to know at least someone in the uni." Natasha explains, but for your cluelessness, she clarifies," Y/N, Wanda said she's going back to Sokovia. To college."

You choke in surprise, looking away immediately. Wanda is still cleaning with headphones and looks too beautiful for someone who has simply thrown away all the plans you made together and was leaving without even telling you.

Your eyes filled with tears, but you weren't sure if they were from anger or sadness. Sniffling softly, you pushed the emotion away and forced a smile at the redhead surprised at your reaction in front of her.

"Well, good for her I guess. I imagine Pietro must have been happy, and Erik especially." You comment clearly trying hard to hide your emotion, and Nat looks at you with concern.

"Yeah, I guess so." She continues, and decide to risk one last thing: "Someone else was pretty happy about that by the way. Stark's brother, who's been trying to get another chance with her is going to be an exchange student in Sokovia, and he seemed super pleased about the news. Kate even thinks it was his idea in the first place."

You almost knocked the decorative items off the table, but you took a deep breath and tried to keep your expression impassive.

"Are you okay?" Nat asked, and you grunted softly.

"Of course. Incredible. Spectacular." You say quickly. "This news doesn't shake me at all.'

"Yeah, you're pressing the mouse pretty hard..." Natasha comments worriedly, and that's how you break down.

"Wanda kissed me!" You practically scream, and you are very grateful that it is closing time and the place is completely empty, apart from Wanda's headphones.

Natasha widens her eyes at the revelation. "Excuse me?"

You sigh deeply, sinking your face into your hands for a moment before speaking more calmly, "It happened on Friday, after the party. She came into my room and we kissed..." You explain and ignore the changes from confusion to excitement in Natasha's expression to add, "And she also, maybe, had an orgasm on my leg but that's not so relevant to the story."

"OH MY GOD." Natasha practically vibrates, squeezing your forearm to control her happiness and making you laugh softly. "No, wait, you guys have a whole make-out session and now she's going to another college? I got lost in the story."

You sigh in frustration. "Don't look at me, I don't even know how this all happened." You defend yourself. "One minute we were watching a movie, then suddenly we were kissing. And don't get me wrong, it was incredible! Like, really, really amazing. Wanda is so beautiful, and her lips are..."

"Parker, you're unraveling." Nat cuts in with a laugh and you blush and shake your head.

"I just mean she ran away. Like, literally." You say. "I wanted to talk about it, of course, but she ignored all my messages. And when I went to her apartment, she asked Pietro to say she wasn't in. I am trying to respect her time, but now I hear from you that she would rather move country than deal with what happened. So I don't know Nat, maybe I'm a terrible kisser or something."

Nat laughs softly, shaking her head. "I'm sure it's not that, Y/N. I think Wanda panicked. Like, she did that with a boy she barely knows who tried to give her a kiss at a party where almost everyone had been drinking. Imagine how it is with you, her best friend, the most important person in her life. Isn't Wanda kind of your safe haven and all that? I imagine that she was terrified at the possibility of ruining everything between the two of you because of a kiss. And of course, an orgasm."

You smiled weakly at the joke, your mind racing with Natasha's justifications. It all made sense and looking at Wanda again, it just clicked.

"I'm so stupid." You declared, but Nat pinched your arm.

"Hey, don't say that." She retorted seriously. "You two are just... dense, I guess. Clueless as hell. Wanda is a social mess, and although she's not that shy, she's terrible at these sorts of things. Remember when that Simon kid from first grade asked to carry her backpack and she thought she was getting mugged?" Nat recalls, earning you a soft laugh. "What I mean is that you two are honestly perfect for each other. Everyone could see it happening, now you just need to help Wanda realize that everything is alright. No more hiding."

You move one of your hands to hold Nat's on the counter.

"Thank you, Nat. Wish me luck?"

She laughs softly. "Luck? I'll wish you some nerve, I can't stand any more of you yellowing about acting on your feelings."

You roll your eyes, trying to mess up Nat's hair but she laughs as she moves away from your grasp. "Hey, I have a date to go on. Unlike you, I have some game." She teases one last time, laughing in farewell before blowing a kiss and turning to leave.

Your heart races in your chest as you face the distracted figure again, and you ignore your nervousness to walk over to Wanda.

But you hesitate just before and take a deep breath.

"Hey Wanda, I just wanted to say that I'm in love with you. No, that's too direct it's going to scare her. Maximoff, you and me in New York as we agreed. Okay, too aggressive. Wanda, I love you, be my girlfriend? My God, that's a mixture of the two..." You were babbling softly, trying to rehearse the best speech so as not to fumble with the words and make things worse with the brunette in front of you.

And without any clue, the song in Wanda's headphones ended about ten seconds before you approached her.

You were about to give up on the idea and return to your counter when Wanda turned around without meeting your gaze, hanging her headphones around her neck and holding her broom tightly. She took a deep breath to gather courage and raised her eyes to you.

"Are you really in love with me?" She asked and you choked softly. But then a breathless laugh escaped your lips.

"Wanda you know it's very rude to pretend to be listening to music on the headset when you're actually listening to the whole conversation." You reprimand her fakely, but Wanda looks at you in expectation.

"Please, did you mean it?" She insists and you smile, nodding.

"Of course, I'm in love with you, Wanda. How could I not?"

Wanda swallows dryly, shaking her head gently as her eyes fill with tears. "B-but you never said anything..."

"Neither did you." You retort with some amusement, taking one step and then another until your hands are on her cheeks. "I understand why. It's scary, isn't it? The uncertainty with someone who is so important. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm terrified too."

Wanda smiles tearfully, dropping the broom to the floor and running her hands around your waist.

"You don't have to be afraid, detka. I'll take care of you." She assures and you smile, moving closer to kiss her on the lips a few times. When you part, you both remain with your eyes closed. "In case it wasn't clear, I love you too. Like, a lot." Wanda confesses hoarsely getting an affected laugh from you.

"I had the vague idea." You joke, kissing what she was about to retort away until the girl sighs into your lips and clasps her hands around your waist. You both missed the feeling so much, and when Wanda slides her tongue against yours, you realize how much.

She kisses you even harder than she did on Friday, devouring your mouth and holding you as if she could run away at any moment. You wanted to say you weren't going anywhere, but Wanda slid her hand into your pants and all that came out of your lips were muffled moans in her mouth.

Somehow, the two of you ended up entwined in the bowling lane, kissing hard and needily, your clothes beginning to feel uncomfortable.

The jacket of Wanda's uniform ended up near the pins, and your mouth was marking her neck as your fingers tugged and stroked her hardened nipple. She was squirming beneath you, trying to grind against your knee in between your legs as she bit her lips to muffle the sounds.

"I don't even wanna know." Said a male voice cutting the moment complete, and you jumped away from Wanda in the blink of an eye. Sam was standing, looking away to give a little privacy to the public place you guys were doing. "Just hand in your badges at the front desk, please." He directs before turning around, shaking his head in disbelief.

You and Wanda exchange guilty giggles. "I can't believe we lost another job." Says the brunette adjusting her clothes and hair before getting up.

You laugh, shrugging your shoulders.

"At least I got a girlfriend." You comment, and despite the pink in her cheeks, Wanda raises an eyebrow in defiance.

"Is that so? I don't see a ring."

"I just lost my job, Maximoff, you won't be seeing a ring for quite some time." You retort in the same tone, receiving a giggle in return.

As soon as you leave your badges and uniforms on the counter of a disappointed Sam Wilson, you entwine your hand with Wanda's and lead her out the employee exit, the alley is empty and well lit, and you can see the bustle of the mall.

"How about, you and I have a real date tonight?" You suggest, stealing a few small kisses that make her smile.

"I've never been in one before." She confesses, needlessly really because you know that. You know everything about her.

"Well, I've only been on really bad dates, so I'm no reference." You retort with a small smile. "I think we can start our own thing. Something pretty original called Netflix and Chill."

Wanda laughs at your joke, bringing her hands to your neck and kissing you with intent. You understand that this is her response, and honestly, you're not complaining.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #bottom!wanda #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff #high school au

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