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ninus9607 · 4 months ago

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Lights, Camera, Action! - Elizabeth Olsen

Pairing(s): Elizabeth Olsen x Female! reader

Word count: 12,3K

tags: l content: slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, actress x actress, wlw MCU, smut, dominant! Lizzie, sub! reader, praise kink, possessive! Lizzie, hickeys & marks, dirty talk, soft smut, fluff, and smutpost-sex cuddles

AN: GUYS, I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE IT, PLS FORGIVE ME FOR EVERY MISTAKE

San Diego Comic-Con – Hall H

The lights in Hall H were brilliant, and the atmosphere was electric with expectation. I sat in my seat on the Marvel panel stage, my heart racing faster than it ever had on filming. This wasn't my first visit, but it was the first time anybody noticed I was here.

Two years ago, I played a "blink-and-you 'miss" character in Age of Ultron. A few lines. A powerful scene. A shadow in the midst of chaos. However, fans remembered. Somehow, they remembered.

I suppose Black Raven left a mark.

Kevin Feige came in close to the microphone, smirking as if he were about to unleash a bombshell. "Some of you might remember a mysterious character who appeared briefly in Age of Ultron."

A renegade force, morally gray and extremely strong... "A vampire who left the fight before the dust had settled."

Whispers spread across the room. The phones were already out. My name was already trending before he said anything.

"Well," he added, "I believe it's time she returned. This time, she's not hiding in the shadows.

He turned to face me. "Please welcome back Y/N Salvatore- returning as Y/C/N, also known as Black Raven, in Captain America: Civil War."

The audience exploded. I blinked under the stage lights, giving a little shocked smile as the room took me completely.

"I'm still trying to believe this is real," I added as the ovation went down. "The last time I came here, I got maybe three minutes of screen time and one stunt scene. Now I am here and just Wow!"

Laughter.

I looked down the table, and there she was. Elizabeth Olsen. Sitting a few chairs away and giving me that familiar half-smile. Soft and illegible. There's something more behind it. Curiosity. Recognition.

We hadn't shot anything together yet, not really. There was only one brief interaction in Ultron that never reached the final edit. But fans have been shipping our characters ever since. Perhaps it was the tension.

Perhaps it was the way my character had watched hers walk away from Sokovia, her face empty as if they had exchanged something neither of them could understand.

The Marvel team went on to other announcements, but I could sense excitement rising around me. Questions from the press. Fan art is already overwhelming social media. Speculation.

Wanda Maximoff and Black Raven are two shattered, deadly women on opposing sides of a conflict.

And somehow, they were destined to clash.

I looked across at Lizzie again.

She was still watching me.

God, I had no clue what was going to happen.

By the end of the panel, I felt like I was floating. The shouting of the audience, the dazzling glare of cameras, and the way supporters sang my name as if I'd always been one of them. As if I hadn't just slipped through the gaps in Ultron and nearly vanished for good.

Outside the hall, the air was dense and bustling. Fans flocked behind barriers with posters, comics, and custom art, and I foolishly attempted to stroll past secretly.

Did not work.

"Y/N! Over here!"

"Oh my god, Black Raven!"

"Please sign this!"

I looked down at a poster of my character, dark and majestic in the shadows, fangs barely visible, red flames curling around her fingers. They even got the cloak correctly. And the eyes—burning with something wild.

"I didn't even know people still cared," I said, surprised as I signed the edge.

"They never forgot you," a devoted fan muttered.

I continued signing. Posters. A sketch of Black Raven and Wanda holding hands and staring at one another like lovers. A shirt with the phrase, "I Do Believe In Killing The Messenger. Know Why? Because It Sends A Message." One female gave me a little plush replica of my character. I laughed so hard I almost cried.

That night, when I returned to my hotel room, the adrenaline hadn't even worn off. I threw off my shoes, opened a soda, and cuddled up on the bed in my huge con sweater. Just as I was going to cruise lazily on Instagram, a fresh notification appeared.

"Robert Downey Jr. added you to the group 'Avengers Assemble 💥'"

I blinked. Then blinked again.

A flood of messages came:

(RDJ) well well well. look who's back from the dead

(Chris E.): about time

(Tom H.): I've literally been waiting since I was twelve

(Lizzie 🥀): welcome back, stranger

(ScarJo): don't read the fine print. you're already in too deep

(Hemsworth 🍺): A VAMPIRE! I KNEW I LIKED YOU

I laughed into my pillow. What the hell is my life right now?

My fingers hovered over the group chat. I typed, deleted, and then finally sent:

(You): wait... what exactly did I sign up for?

(RDJ): That's cute. She thinks she has a choice.

(Lizzie 🥀): don't worry. you're safe with us.

(Lizzie 🥀): ...mostly.

I bit my lip, rereading the last message. My heart did something strange. Probably just the Coke. Or the heat. On the other hand, Lizzie sent a winking emoji immediately after.

I hadn't even read the entire script yet. I wasn't sure where my character was headed. Whether Black Raven would fight with or against Wanda. Whether they were enemies or anything else.

The sun filtered through the hotel drapes, creating a golden and gentle glow. I lay there for a time, taking in the peaceful morning mood. My body hurt in that slow, wonderful manner after yesterday's rush of panels, autographs, and screaming fans. I should have felt tired. I should have grumbled, nestled further into the cushions, and requested for another five minutes.

But I did not.

Because this was the day.

This is my first official Marvel table read since Age of Ultron. My actual return. Not just a postscript. Not as a supporting character with two lines and a beautiful battle scene. But as a true player, Black Raven. People remember the vampire antiheroes.

I took a long shower, letting the water calm my worries, the steam wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. Once dry, I stood in front of the closet for a little moment, just long enough to feel a flutter in my chest.

I wanted to feel like myself. But I also wanted to appear like I belonged here.

I put on cut black pants that hugged my waist well and made me feel quietly strong. A fresh white shirt was tucked in with a relaxed grace, and I layered on a lightweight, long camel coat that murmured gentle luxury.

Small gold hoops, silver rings, and a pair of glossy black loafers that catch the light. No logos. There's no chaos. Simply classic lines and calm assurance.

I left my hair down, brushed and elegant, with a single clip on the side to keep it out of my face. Makeup was clean, smooth, and very effortless. A little brow gel, a pop of color, and tinted lip balm.

I gazed into the mirror.

European subtlety with a biting undertone. That was me!

The studio sent a vehicle. Standard black SUV with silent driver and darkened windows. Very Marvel. I sat in the back with my coffee, pretending I wasn't sweating.

When I got to the lot, someone from production greeted me with a badge and a big smile. "They're all inside already. "You are sitting between Anthony and Lizzie."

"Lizzie?"

"Elizabeth Olsen."

"Cool," I blurted far too hastily. "Cool, cool, cool."

The door to the reading room opened, and I walked into a strange little dream. Long table. Dozens of chairs. Familiar faces, some I'd only seen in films, others I'd met briefly years before.

Scarlett Johansson gave me a wink and a nod. Sebastian Stan lifted his coffee as a toast. Chris Evans grinned and patted me on the back. "About damn time."

Then Lizzie.

She was already sitting, thumbing through the script, her hair in a loose braid, and a comfortable, oversized sweater flowing down one shoulder. She glanced up the instant I walked in, and her face brightened.

Like, genuinely lights up.

"Hey, stranger," she whispered quietly, rising to hug me.

I froze for a half-second. Just a second. Then I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly. She smelled like honey, coffee, and something warm that I couldn't identify.

"You look like you belong here," she said softly against my ear. "You ready to break hearts?"

"Only if you help," I said back.

She drew away, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn't identify.

We sat down. Anthony Mackie leaned in and said, "Just so you know, there are already fan edits of you two spreading."

Lizzie smiled without looking up. "I've seen them."

The reading started.

Tony had lines. So did Steve. But as the image transitioned to Wanda and Black Raven, Wanda stopped outside a decaying structure, her hand lifted in midair as Y/N came from the shadows. I could feel a shift in the collective reaction.

I read my line carefully, eyes fixed on the page. "Did you miss me, little witch?" My European accent went on.

And Lizzie... God! Lizzie's voice dropped an octave. "You were supposed to be dead."

I gazed at her. She stared at me.

The table remained still. Someone let out a faint whistle. Someone another said, "Y'all need a moment?"

We laughed. Just enough to release the stress.

But that moment lasted.

After the reading, everyone went for notes, coffee, and chaos. I found myself near the studio lot, seated on a low wall behind a shade tree, phone in hand, but forgotten. Lizzie stepped up with two iced lattes and offered one to me.

"You were incredible," she stated. "Like you never left."

She raised her head. "Still haven't read the whole script?"

I shake my head. "Trying to savor it. I don't want to learn everything too quickly."

She grinned slowly. "Then I will not spoil it. "But...you and I have some scenes."

"Oh?" WHAT???????

"Some very close ones." ARE YOU KIDDING ME, MARVEL

My cheekbones warmed. "You say that like it's a problem."

"It's not." She stared me dead in the eyes, funny yet serious below. "Unless you make it one."

And before I could say anything else, before I could even think, she was walking away, sipping her drink, hips swaying like a goddess in worn jeans and an Avengers crew hoodie.

I stared after her, heart hammering like I'd just survived a stunt scene.

Welcome back to Marvel, I thought.

A few months later.

Most of the nervous butterflies had disappeared by this point. The set had become like a second home, filled with familiar voices and traditions. I wasn't simply a new girl anymore. Everyone made it simple.

Chris gave me the nicest bear hugs and always made sure I ate my lunch. Scarlett had the type of cool that made you want to better your game, yet she always welcomed me with a warm smile and a "Hey, superstar." Anthony Mackie was an utter menace - but in the most lovable manner possible. Paul Bettany kept asking me to read poems between takes, saying it was "very Black Raven of you."

And Robert? He was like my dad!

"And Lizzie..." Lizzie was something else completely.

She'd knock on my door, holding a coffee in one hand and a protein snack in the other, as if she knew just when I needed her. Her jokes were dry, her eyes mischievous, and I'd caught myself looking a bit too long on several occasions.

We had gotten close. She was close enough to connect her arm with mine as we headed to the set. My heart skipped a beat every time she leaned close to murmur something only I could hear.

I knew exactly what I was doing.

I simply didn't know whether she did.

That afternoon, I was sitting with one of the directors, Joe, just outside the soundstage. The sun was casting a wandering light on the edge of the asphalt lot as he ran through the following several days' sequences.

"So, for next week," Joe remarked, brushing through his tablet, "we have the rooftop scene. You and Wanda are alone. It's the first time your character truly opens up."

I tilted my head, wondering. "What kind of open up are we talking about?"

He grinned. "The slow-burning sort. The 'I might not trust the Avengers, but I trust you' type."

My face felt heated.

He caught it as he looked up. "You good with that?"

"Yeah. No, yes. I mean, it's a great scene," I said, flicking through my copy of the script. "So, it's just me and Lizzie on the rooftop. At night?"

Joe nodded. "Right after the dramatic battle sequence. You are both still startled. Then it's silent. That time when the city hums under you and there is no goal or strategy. Just—" He hesitated and grinned. "Just feelings."

I swallowed. "Right. Feelings."

I sat in my trailer, flipping over the script. The rooftop scene.

It wasn't romantic, officially. But it may be.

Wanda looks at Y/N with gentle eyes. Y/N does not flinch for the first time. They don't quite touch. But it is near. Too close.

CMON Y/N, U GOT THIS! YOU ARE A TALENTED ACTRESS, DON'T U?

Interior Set – Rooftop at Night – Scene 57

When I arrived at the rooftop set, the wind machines were already rumbling. Lights positioned to resemble a dark skyline threw long shadows across the faux-concrete, and I adjusted the black leather of my outfit as I proceeded to my destination.

Lizzie was already there, in her deep red coat, gaze faraway and focused, and falling into Wanda's sorrow.

Joe made a few parting remarks off camera, but I hardly heard him. My fingertips brushed over the hilt of the false dagger on my thigh. The character's familiar weight slipped into my chest like a second skin. I wasn't Y/N Salvatore anymore. I was Black Raven.

"Ready?" the assistant director called.

"Rolling!" came from the sound.

"Slate in!"

The clack of the slate snapped, and then -

"Action!"

I let my gaze fall to the city skyline in front of me, taking in the depth of the picture and the severity of what I was going to say. The director, Joe, was allowing us space to relax into the spirit of the moment. I needed it.

I took a breath and proceeded carefully toward Wanda, each step thoughtful and silent. Raven's boots reverberated softly on the rooftop floor. My expression was inscrutable, meticulously crafted, calm on the surface, chaos beneath.

"Why are you here?" Lizzie spoke, her voice as raspy as Wanda's. She avoided looking at me at first, as if it hurt too much.

Raven paused. Her gaze searched the devastation below. Blood had flowed. Soldiers had died.

"You still believe in me," I said — Raven said. Her tone was not desperate. It was not a plea. Just pure curiosity. "Even after everything."

Wanda finally met her eyes.

"Because you've never hurt me."

A pause.

"And because you care... even when you don't want anyone to see it."

My expression flared. Not too much. Just enough to show that anything impacted her insides. My jaw clenched. I came closer, slowly and cautiously, as if Wanda was something I might damage simply by being near her.

Raven's voice lowered to almost a whisper now. "Maybe I'm tired of hiding."

And then, unexpectedly, her breath caught. Her face crumbled in the simplest, most human manner. Her shoulders twisted inward, as if she were sinking beneath an unseen weight, and tears welled up in her eyes, quiet, genuine, quivering on her eyelids.

"They're still arguing about whether you're dangerous or just reckless."

I smirked. "They're not wrong."

"I saw what you did out there," she said. "To those soldiers."

"They were trying to blow up a refugee truck," I answered casually. "So I ripped their throats out. Problem solved."

"You could've taken them down without... that."

"I could have," I replied, finally turning to face her. "But where is the fun in that?"

"You're not heartless."

Lizzie's voice trembled just slightly, even as her magic buzzed through the air like a quiet hum between us. "You just don't waste your heart on the wrong people."

"I never asked for this," I whispered, voice strained. "I just wanted to protect something, for once."

Then tears began to fall.

Not in the script.

Not planned.

I could sense that everyone was watching.

"You don't have to do it alone," Lizzie said quietly, coming in closer and gently placing her forehead on Y/N's. "We will figure it out. Together."

"Cut!"

I blinked once and again. Straightened. I took a silent step back, shrugged my shoulders, and wiped the tear from beneath my eye with my knuckle as if it were just another spread of makeup.

The entire crew remained quiet.

And then

Applause.

Real, loud applause.

"Holy shit," I heard someone from the lights mutter.

Joe went forward with a shocked expression and raised his hands. "That, whatever it was, we're keeping it. There is no second take."

Lizzie continued to gaze at me, her eyes wide. "How do you do that?" she muttered. "Like—switch it on and off like that?"

I laughed softly, removing an unwanted strand of hair from my face. "I drink a lot of espresso and don't think about it too much."

She grinned slowly, a little confused. "You were amazing."

"You made it easy," I replied softly, my voice totally Y/N again. "Your Wanda breaks my heart."

Joe walked over, his expression surprised. "That... was beyond incredible. Y/N, Elizabeth—your chemistry, the way you two just... felt that scene. I can't even put it into words. That was... magic."

But I felt it.

The way everyone looked at me has changed a little differently now.

The way Lizzie did, especially.

And I couldn't help but wonder, was it still just acting?

My phone lights up...

"Don't judge me," Robert said via text. "But I'm very certain I ate something suspicious today. "

I giggled softly to myself before scrolling down to see what others had said- Chris had tweeted a photo of himself "prepping for battle" with a pile of weights stacked around him. Then I received a text from Lizzie.

(Lizzie 🥀)I'm curious, Y/N: do you ever simply... quit being Black Raven? Is she always on your mind?

The message she wrote took me off guard, sending a shudder down my spine. I quickly composed my reply.

(You)I wish I could claim I left her on set, but she stays. But when you work with people like you, Lizzie, it's difficult not to bring her out, you know?

I waited for a bit, my pulse pumping slightly quicker than normal as I expected her reaction. But before I could think about it, my phone rang again.

(Lizzie 🥀)Hmm, maybe I'll give Wanda a chance at her. 😉 The chemistry is obvious.

I smiled, though no one could see it. I wasn't sure if she was still talking about our characters or something more personal. Perhaps both.

(You): Is this a challenge? Because Black Raven will not back down from one.

I sat back, exhaled, and smiled slightly. Was it a flirtation? I couldn't tell, but I didn't mind being unclear. For once, I wanted to let the words hang in the air without overthinking them. After all, everything was in good humor.

(RDJ) (After Lizzie's message): That's all. Y/N and Lizzie are now a real thing. Someone bring the popcorn.

I blinked, thoroughly caught off guard. Wait, was he talking about the chat? About us?

(Chris E.): You know what? I think they'd make an excellent couple. Don't you think?

(You): Lol, okay, okay, maybe I've had too much espresso today.

The studio lights had been bright for hours, and my legs hurt from running through take after take. The strain that came from filming Captain America: Civil War was finally easing as we took a break and spread across the set, ready for the next scene. The entire team had gathered in the makeup room to cool down, get food, and do everything they could to rest for a few seconds before the chaos returned.

I found myself standing in the corner of the room, trying to recover my breath while checking my phone for emails, texts, and the usual disaster. Lizzie walked in, her hair still a little filthy from the previous takes but looking effortlessly gorgeous as always. She gave me a heart-stopping smile, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"How's the new Black Raven scene going?" Lizzie asked, leaning on the counter near me. Her voice was sweet and playful, as if she understood how hard the day had been.

I rolled my eyes theatrically. "Oh, you understand. Running, battling, and being hit by objects I'm supposed to avoid. A typical day in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, right?"

Lizzie chuckled, her eyes bright with delight. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to the battle we're about to have in the next scene."

I raised my eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me Wanda is going to fight Black Raven? I'm all in on that."

Lizzie shrugged lightly, but I saw how her gaze lingered on mine a little longer than needed. "Who knows? Perhaps we'll be on the same side. Or not. You never know with us. "We have history."

That final part caught my attention.. She said it casually, but there was something more beneath the words, making me question if she was hinting at something more. "So, what do you think about the future?" Will we be best friends or enemies?" I asked, hoping to keep the discussion light, but I could see the air between us shifting, charged with something more.

Lizzie paused, her lips twisting into a cheeky grin. "I believe we could have some interesting chemistry on screen. You and I."

"Alright, guys," Joe Russo's voice echoed through the room, "let's get ready for the next shot."

The Filming Break

After another long sequence, the team took a break, and I found myself seated next to Lizzie again. This time, we were joined by a few other cast members, but the space between Lizzie and me felt different, as if there was an invisible thread pulling us together, even though we were sitting around chatting. We chuckled about the most recent scenario, in which our characters were meant to face off in a dramatic battle.

"You looked incredible in that fight scene," Lizzie added, her eyes shining with real adoration. "I have to admit, I didn't expect to be that ruthless."

I chuckled and shook my head. "Hey, this is all part of the character. But it's difficult to keep a straight face when we're dressed in silly costumes."

There was a silent moment, and the sound of the team preparing the next shot resonated in the distance. But it was not my top priority. I was concentrated on Lizzie, her eyes meeting mine,

"Maybe we could do that," I replied gently, my pulse pounding slightly quicker. "After we finish filming, might we... have a drink? Talk about life beyond the MCU?"

Lizzie's expression softened, and I could see a change in her eyes. She was considering it. "I'd like that," she murmured, barely rising above a whisper.

The last take had just finished, and the entire set burst into cheers. Some of us cheered and accepted. I stood there, hands on my hips, gathering my breath, my heart rushing from adrenaline rather than actual effort.

Months of filming, endless takes, bruises, sweat, early mornings, and late nights resulted in this: the final fight sequence in Berlin.

We were still in costume, half-covered in fake dirt, sweat seeping down between layers of leather, yet no one cared. There was a thrill, the type you feel after doing something incredible.

One of the assistants rolled in a monitor, and the director called out, "Alright, gather around. Let's watch the last sequence. You've earned it."

The screen began to light up. The first few clips of the Berlin combat began to play, with all the uncut footage patched together by one of the editors, who worked like magic. We watched as Cap and Tony fought, Peter helped with his spider ability, and Scott transformed into an actual giant.

But then came the moment we all waited for.

Wanda, or Lizzie in full Scarlet Witch beauty, flew over the asphalt and landed hard. The camera switched to a wide shot. A burst of black feathers and red energy appeared on the screen.

There I was, racing full speed at her, my boots hitting the concrete with amazing elegance. I sank to my knees next to her, scared yet cool. The sound wasn't completely mixed yet, but we could still hear the speech perfectly.

"You shouldn't have stayed behind."

"And let you go alone?" Never."

"You betrayed Tony."

"I don't care."

Everyone else made some kind of noise—"Oof," "Damn," "Okay, chemistry!" but I hardly heard it. I was looking at the screen too much. Specifically, on me, who was almost straining not to gaze at Wanda's chest in that fitting corset. And failing.

Badly.

Lizzie's lips twitched into a grin, and I noticed this out of the corner of my eye. She leaned down and said, "You were definitely not looking at my chest all the time in that scene."

Let forth a faint, regretful chuckle. "I stayed in character."

"Oh, sure," she said, sipping her coffee like a smug witch. "Black Raven was just emotionally overwhelmed by the... depth of Wanda's neckline."

By the time the last fight scene appeared on the monitor, the audience had quieted.

Everything stopped, including the conversation, taunting, and rustling of the food. We all sat there, actors still clad in half-costumes, sweating, hanging to our foreheads, our gaze fixed on the screen. The Berlin conflict was chaotic, but this was something else.

Tony. Steve. Bucky.

It wasn't simply punches and shields anymore; betrayal, sorrow, and desperation were woven into every action. Every punch was personalized. Every breath was heaviest.

When the shield collided with the arc reactor, there was a collective inhalation.

Nobody spoke. Nobody had to.

I noticed Chris and Robert seated side by side, both appearing much more serious than normal. Sebastian had his arms folded and his eyes squinted. Lizzie's fingers remained motionless against the sleeve of her sweatshirt, her knuckles white.

Then the screen went dark.

And another scene started.

Steve stormed down the Raft's hallways, mouth clenched, eyes scouring each gloomy path. The emergency lights flashed to a low red. The doors burst open. Guards had died. Empty cells.

Everyone leaned forward.

We hadn't viewed the footage yet—it wasn't done. Despite knowing what was about to happen, my stomach fluttered. I recalled shooting it and the weight of it. The atmosphere on set had been strained that day.

The camera followed Steve through the prison until he came to a stop.

Right there, bodies sprawled over the floor. Wanda's cell broke open. Debris. Smoke. Chaos.

Then the Woman emerged from the darkness, boots clicking on damp concrete.

Black Raven.

Me.

Drenched in blood, with tangled hair, the black villain's outfit is ripped and wild, like shadows sewn to skin. My character was motionless—except for her arms, which clutched Wanda against her chest. Wanda's hand grabbed my shoulder weakly.

Steve's voice resonated and was raspy. "What did you do?"

"What you would not do. Do not try to stop me, no one will hurt her again. And be careful, Captain. You're only alive because she likes you. And everything on my body wants to murder you, so stand aside."

The place nearly burst.

"Holy shit," Anthony Mackie said, half-standing. "That was badass."

"That's gonna break the internet," Scarlett said, her eyes still wide.

I saw myself on film taking Wanda to the Helicopter before turning around and disappearing into the darkness.

Chris whistled softly. "That's when the audience knows she isn't just a villain. She's something else entirely."

"I've got chills," Lizzie muttered near me.

Paul blinked. "Did... did your character kill all of them by herself?"

I gave a little smile. "She did."

"I love her," Robert announced. "She is terrifying. I love her."

Sebastian nudged me. "You looked like a vampire version of Batman."

"Thanks, I think?"

"No, seriously," the director interrupted, arms folded as he inspected the monitor. "That moment, when she carries Wanda like that? That isn't simply dark; it's loyalty. You can feel it."

Lizzie did not say anything immediately. She simply leaned in again and murmured, "You looked like you'd set the world on fire for her."

I looked at her, my lips parted slightly.

"And you looked like you'd let me."

She blushing but did not look away.

"Okay," Chris broke the quiet. "But can we talk about how Steve literally shows up ready to break them out, and Y/N's already done it and left a dramatic calling card?"

"I like a little flair," I shrugged.

"You carried me like a bride," Lizzie teased.

"You looked like one," I shot back without thinking.

She blinked.

So did I.

Scarlett grinned, she knew. "Guys get a room please, your eye fucking is too much even for me."

Jimmy Fallon show - a few months later

The lights came on strong, and the applause was louder than I imagined, but honestly? I was too high on adrenaline to notice.

Walking onto the Tonight Show set with the rest of the Avengers cast was unreal. The audience exploded as if we were true superheroes - Sebastian grinned, Robert blew kisses, Chris and Anthony began arguing playfully, and Scarlett walked like she ruled the building (she kinda did).

I greeted, smiled, and hugged Jimmy Fallon before sliding into my seat between Lizzie and Paul. Not by accident.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jimmy announced dramatically once we had all settled down, "we have the most powerful couch on Earth right now."

"So," Jimmy leaned forward, fingers steepled, "Captain America: Civil War. Huge feelings. Large fighting. There's a lot of confusion. And some new faces..."

He grinned as he turned to face me. "Y/N Salvatore, Black Raven herself, welcome to the madness."

The audience applauded again. I giggled gently and smoothed my dress.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm still not sure how I ended up here. One day I'm filming in a castle cellar in Romania, and the next I'm avoiding flying vehicles,"

"You're incredible in the movie," Jimmy replied. "The prison scene? You're carrying Wanda out like you're a goth vampire knight in shining armor?"

The crowd howled. Lizzie gave a little sigh beside me, covering her mouth to conceal a chuckle.

"I-I was doing my best, okay?" I shrugged. "Black Raven is a little dramatic. It's in her blood."

Chris said, "She also kills like... twenty guards in under a minute," his eyes wide. "I was like - did we just add a slasher villain to the team?"

"She's not a villain," Lizzie insisted, remarkably adamant. "She's complicated."

I gazed at her. She stared at me.

Jimmy blinked. "Oh, hello."

More laughs. Robert leaned into his microphone. "This has been going on through the press trip. I swear to God."

"Don't look at us like that!" Lizzie protested, her cheeks flushing just enough to be noticed.

"Okay, but," Jimmy said, pulling out a single shot from the tape of me kneeling by Wanda, cradling her protectively, blood streaming from my hands. "You can't blame us for shipping it."

Cue the crowd losing their heads.

Scarlett laughed. "They have unreal chemistry. Like, we all saw it."

"Yeah," Anthony nodded. "Even between takes, they were still looking at each other like—"

"Finish that sentence and I swear—" I warned, but I was laughing too hard to sound serious.

Jimmy grinned. "Okay, alright. We'll keep things cool for now. But truly, your performance was incredible. The emotional intensity, the silence, the uncertainty..."

He turned back to face the group. "Was anyone else on set just like... watching her and forgetting to act?"

Paul raised his hand. "I did. Twice. I got yelled at."

Sebastian nodded. "I tripped over my line."

I ducked my head and grinned. "Now you're all just being sweet."

"No," Lizzie responded quietly. "You were real. And it is unusual."

The room was silent for a little moment. Just enough for me to notice how near her knee was to mine again. And how warm her hand felt as it lightly touched mine as the talk progressed.

We laughed, mocked, and acted out our biggest blunders (Chris screwed up his shield flip and smacked a bulb. Classic). Jimmy showed a montage of us dancing behind the scenes—yes, there was an uncomfortable moment when Lizzie and I spun around in full costume as the stunt squad looked at us like puzzled pups.

But the moment that stuck?

When Jimmy pulled out a fan-edited clip of Black Raven and Wanda with the title: "Born To Burn – A Love Between Fire and Shadow".

And we both blushed like idiots.

I was still laughing at Paul's impersonation of Vision trying yoga when Jimmy leaned in again, this time with that sparkle in his eye that suggested he was ready to stir things up.

"Alright, alright," he murmured, interrupting the laughter. "I know I can't expect too much, but come on... We need to discuss what comes next."

I felt my smile freeze slightly.

"What about the new Avengers lineup? Perhaps a secret antihero will make more appearances?" He raised an eyebrow wildly and fixed his eyes on me. "Y/N, will we be seeing more of Black Raven in the future?"

The audience reacted with a chorus of excited gasps and cheers, with some admirers in the first row already screaming my character's name.

I opened my lips, not knowing what to say.

Scarlett, thankfully, jumped in first. "If she tells you anything, Feige will literally teleport here and kill us all."

Everyone laughed, but Jimmy was not finished.

"Oh, come on," he responded, smirking. "No teases?" "Not even a hint?"

I attempted to maintain a neutral look, but my stomach was already in knots. I hadn't even read the final script for the following step. Rumors were flowing, and the pressure was building, but was it true? I wasn't sure what I was permitted or wanted to say.

I glanced down immediately, attempting to seem casual, but my fingers curled a bit harder around the edge of the couch seat.

Then I felt it.

A soft, comforting hand gently touched my thigh, right above my knee.

Lizzie.

She said nothing and didn't even look at me. Her gaze was still fixed on Jimmy, and her smile was as calm and dazzling as ever. But her thumb glided gently back and forth on the material of my dress.

It was a tiny gesture. Soft. Subtle. But stable.

I inhaled gently through my nose, urging my shoulders to remain calm. My heart, which had begun to stutter in my chest, resumed its normal rhythm.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," I eventually said, giving Jimmy a faint smirk. "But I do think the universe of Black Raven still has some shadows left to explore."

Jimmy lifted both brows and glanced around at the others. "That... felt like a yes."

Robert clapped his hands once. "That was a studio-trained 'I can't answer this' voice if I've ever heard one."

"Ten out of ten," Chris said. "Very smooth."

Lizzie's hand squeezed my thigh, barely noticeable, but she never took her hand off me.

I took a quick glimpse at her.

She didn't look at me. But the sweetest smile tugged on the corner of her lips.

Time passed...

The premier light finally faded. The press junkets slowed. The constant travel, fittings, early call times, and all-day shootings were finally over—or at least put on hold. But even after I returned to my own small corner of the earth, a peaceful house in New Jersey, the Marvel craziness continued.

Naturally, I kept in touch with the cast. That part was simple.

Group discussions were filled with inside jokes and memes. Chris still sent way too many selfies of himself and Dodger. Scarlett dropped voice messages that never made sense, and Robert constantly sent me culinary recommendations no matter where I was in the world.

And then there was Lizzie.

We chatted. Often.

Sometimes it was simply voice messages at 2 a.m. We sometimes had extended FaceTime chats while she was cooking. Sometimes, there was silence, yet it didn't feel far. Just...quiet comfort. Her name was constantly visible at the top of my texts. My thoughts were continuously drawn back to her.

I wasn't quite sure what we were. But I knew we weren't simply friends—that didn't seem right anymore.

It had been pouring outdoors when this happened.

I was tucked up in my favorite oversized sweatshirt, covered in a throw blanket, and sipping chamomile tea while reading through a stack of forgotten mail and half-read magazines that were gathering on the kitchen counter.

Then one headline attracted my attention.

"Scarlet Spell? Black Raven & Wanda Maximoff Actress Spotted Hand-in-Hand After Intimate NYC Dinner"

My stomach dropped, then fluttered.

I focused on the glossy photo printed over the bottom half of the tabloid. It was grainy, somewhat dark, but clearly us. Lizzie and I were going along a quiet street at night after supper last week. I had entirely forgotten that photographers were standing near that restaurant. She was giggling, her head slightly tilted back, and my hand was in hers.

Not for the camera. Not for public relations.

Just... her fingers curled around mine as if they belonged there.

I sat back on the barstool and looked at the paper.

Part of me panicked. What about the other part? I kind of didn't care.

I grabbed for my phone, my fingers hesitating over Lizzie's number.

Before I could start typing, a fresh message appeared on the screen.

Lizzie🩶: You saw it? 🙈 ...We look cute tho, not gonna lie.

Later that night...

My phone buzzed again, this time with an incoming FaceTime call from Lizzie.

I barely hesitated before responding.

Her face dominated the screen, lighted only by the warmth from her bedside lamp. Hair slightly messy, large sweatshirt, no makeup - it's simply her. She still managed to look like a dream.

"Hey," she responded, her voice mild and somewhat raspy. "You okay?"

I grinned and tucked my knees up to my chest. "You mean after our small-town scandal broke the internet?"

Lizzie laughed. "Right, I forgot, hand-holding, the most forbidden act."

"I know," I teased. "Next thing you know,w we'll be... smiling at each other in public."

"Oh, the horror."

We both laughed, slipping into that comfortable rhythm, the easy warmth that only comes from being with someone you trust.

There was a nice pause, although it lasted a little longer than normal.

"You looked good in that photo," she ultimately replied, her gaze shifting away from the camera for a moment. "Not that this is news. You always do."

I blinked, my lips parted slightly. "You, too. You looked happy."

She shrugged casually. "I was. I mean-I am. With you. It's always fun."

"Fun?" I teased, raising an eyebrow. "That's what I am to you?"

Lizzie leaned closer to the TV, smiling. "Maybe a little more than fun."

The butterflies in my stomach grew into something heavier.

And then—

DING!

A group chat notification slid across the top of the screen. "RDJ 🧃🥸: Alright nerds, suit up. We've got a new project to talk about 👀🦸‍♂️ #avengersassembleagain"

I blinked and then laughed out. "Did he seriously just—"

Lizzie was already rolling her eyes and grinning. "Of course he did."

"I didn't even get time to emotionally recover from the last one."

"We never do," she said. "That's the Marvel way."

I gazed back at her via the screen. A glimmer of passion. Her eyes sparkled.

"So," I asked gently, "Do you think we'll work together again?"

She smiled more slowly this time. "I really hope so."

I leaned my cheek against my hand. "Yeah. Me, too."

INT. CONVENTION HALL – MARVEL PRESS CONFERENCE

The stage was stylish. The backdrop said, "Marvel Studios: Phase 4 - Expanding the Universe." The rows of reporters, camera crews, and executives packed the room. The air was alive with curiosity.

I sat next to Lizzie, my posture excellent, and tried not to mess with the pen in my hand. Everyone had papers in front of them with secret Marvel material. Contracts. NDAs. Early outlines of the initiative, which we were here to publicly reveal.

I'd already read mine, attempting to keep my eyes from widening at the images I was in. And, more especially, who I was with throughout them.

Robert leaned down and said, "Have you read page 73 yet?" OH LORD, SEX SCENE...

I gave him a sideways glance. "Don't get me started."

He grinned and leaned back, as though he already knew everything.

Kevin Feige entered the stage. "The next film is something personal. We're sticking with a darker tone and more grounded emotion—but also something fans have been asking for."

The Russo Brothers then emerged, wearing their typical cool and cryptic expressions.

Anthony said that Y/N Hale and Wanda Maximoff would have a significant story in the next film.

The audience did not respond for a second.

And then, BOOM.

Gasps, whispers, and a few shouts. People began making notes and raising their hands. One reporter asked, "Romantic?"

Lizzie's gaze shifted toward me.

Joe nodded. "We can't say more."

My cheeks burned. I gulped water as if my life depended on it.

Chris Evans leaned forward and murmured, "You two are already trending. Check Twitter."

Scarlett gave me a slow smirk. "Better get used to the spotlight again, rookie."

I tried to hide my grin as I signed the last page of my contract. Black ink. Official.

Marvel had just made it canon.

And suddenly, we were the storyline.

INT. OUTDOOR MARVEL STUDIOS LOT – LUNCH TENT

The sun was warm overhead, creating a golden glow over the Marvel lot. A big picnic-style table was set up beneath an umbrella, and it was packed with known faces, including Chris Hemsworth with three protein bowls in front of him, Sebastian mocking Mackie, Tom Holland jumping in his seat, and RDJ at the head like some cheeky monarch.

I sat tucked between Scarlett and Lizzie, pecking at my salad and trying not to seem too excited.

Chris Evans sat down opposite us, sliding his tray as if he owned the table. "Okay, let us discuss Infinity War. No spoilers, but I read the script last night and"

"—You read the script?" Tom cut in quickly. "I've been given, like, three pages, and one of them was blacked out!"

Everyone came out laughing.

"Tom, you're literally the reason we have that many NDAs," Mackie said, pointing at him.

"I'm an innocent boy!" Tom gasped in his English accent.

"Sure you are," Sebastian murmured, his mouth full of fries.

Lizzie leaned over to me, lips close to my ear. "Have you read your scenes yet?"

"Not all," I said, clicking my nails on my water bottle. "But I saw one where I—uh—jump between two crumbling buildings and Wanda save me out mid-collapse?"

She grinned slowly.

"Maybe Marvel's trying to tell you something," Scarlett replied, without looking up from her dish.

Everyone turned.

"What?" She grinned and shrugged. "I see everything."

"Honestly, though," Hemsworth said, "the energy you two bring? Electric. I'm kind of jealous."

"Agreed," RDJ said. Seeing your connection on screen is like witnessing a solo film romance inserted into a superhero film. Very broody and intense."

Lizzie and I exchanged looks. I attempted to laugh it off, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"We're just... committed to the characters," I explained, attempting to maintain a cheerful tone.

"Right," Sebastian responded, exaggerating. "Very... method."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't you have a brooding scene to rehearse or something?"

Chris Evans smiled. "I ship it."

Tom blinked. "You mean in the movie?"

RDJ leaned back, his sunglasses glinting. "Sure, let's say that."

Lizzie's hand brushed mine under the table again, intentionally, softly. I looked down. She didn't move it. Neither did I.

"Okay, no spoilers," Feige called as he passed by with his own tray. "But can we all agree this cast is going to break hearts in Infinity War?"

"Oh, they're not ready," Scarlett said, gesturing between Lizzie and me with her fork. "Especially not for these two."

I hid my face in my cup. Lizzie just chuckled lowly beside me.

The sun was beginning to set behind the sound stages, coloring the sky in gold and pink. I was snuggled up on the little sofa in my trailer, script pages spread out on my lap, but I wasn't reading anymore.

Instead, I found myself looking at a specific scene, one in which my character and Wanda kiss and have sex. We're supposed to shoot it today. This is my first time on a Marvel movie with wlw intimate scenes, and I am quite nervous. There is also a sex scene with Lizzie, so ahhh.... This was not the first time our characters had kissed. Not by far. But... it was the one that lingered in my chest the most.

It wasn't difficult to pretend I was dating Wanda Maximoff. If anything, it was too simple. Sometimes I told myself that this was the most natural character I'd ever performed. The gentle stares, the lingering touches, the calm times between explosions when she'd grab my hand—it no longer seemed like acting. It felt like breathing.

The only thing that was not real was the kisses. And yet, every time Lizzie's lips touched mine on camera, I fell a bit deeper.

The first few times had been playful. Nervous laughs, gentle chuckles when the director yelled cut. But recently, Lizzie had changed. There was a change. There is a dominance to the way she touches me now- less hesitant, more confident. Her fingertips on my jaw, her thumb caressing my face, the gentle way she guided me through the scene.

And I let her. Gladly.

God, I probably looked like an idiot, leaning into her every action as if gravity drew me there.

I remembered the last scene we'd shot: her v me against the wreckage, and our characters finally having a raw moment of confession. Her forehead was pushed against mine, her breathing unsteady, and for a minute... I wasn't sure whether Wanda or Lizzie was whispering, "I can't lose you."

There was a knock on my trailer door just as I'd finished tying my robe. I was still mentally pacing, flipping through the revised script pages for today's shoot.

Not graphic, not that kind of sex scene, but still intimate. Slow, emotional, intense.

"Come in," I called, voice just a little higher than usual.

The door creaked open, and in stepped one of the Russo brothers, script rolled in hand, calm but serious. "Hey, just wanted to give you and Lizzie a quick rundown before we get on set."

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral even though my heart was already speeding up.

"We want it slow. Intimate. Like it's not just passion, but release- relief. You've both been holding it in for so long. There should be touches that feel almost hesitant. But once it starts... we want the audience to feel how much your characters want this."

I nodded again, biting the inside of my cheek. "Got it. Oh, and," he added, "when you're moaning, don't hold back. Say her name. Multiple times, people will love it.

He chuckled like it was nothing, but the casual direction sent a spark of heat up my spine. "Be raw with it."

Yeah. Sure. Totally fine. Definitely not freaking out.

I adjusted the collar of my shirt, which was soft and worn-looking. The costume designer had nailed the "undercover but still slightly dramatic" look. My character's hair was messily tied back, and there was no makeup save for the sort they used to make me appear like I had slept four hours in three days. Real method stuff.

Lizzie was already on set, barefoot, sitting on a pretend bed, and drinking from a paper coffee cup. She gave me that comfortable, lopsided smile. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," I said, taking a long breath.

Joe came in next to us and lowered his voice.

"This is morning-after energy," he explained. "You have been on the run for months. You've got used to the silence and your relationship. You are not superheroes here. You're simply two people trying to hang onto something positive. Something honest. We want to feel that."

I nodded, and Lizzie's expression had already changed. Wanda was there. Tired, gentle, and a little guarded.

And when they called action

Everything slid into place.

"I think I saw someone watching us near the market," I remarked, carefully folding a dish towel and placing it on the counter. "He wasn't following me, but... I'm not sure if I'm paranoid or right."

Wanda, Lizzie, glanced up from the table where she was cutting fruit. Her fingers hesitated slightly. "You're probably correct. You usually are."

I turned to face her. "Doesn't make me feel better."

She let out a giggle and walked to me.

"It's been peaceful here," she remarked. "I forgot what peace even felt like."

Lizzie stood close to me, dressed as Wanda, with delicate makeup and a dark red cloak thrown around her shoulders, her hand gently stretching across the table to mine. "We're safe here," she added, with Wanda's soft, quiet, but authoritative tone. It caused chills down my arms.

I nodded and gazed into her eyes, waiting for my cue. But I wasn't acting anymore. When she gripped my hand.

"We don't have to go back," Lizzie said. "We might disappear here. Just you and I."

I swallowed hard. "You really think they'd let us go?" I demanded, leaning forward as the script instructed me. The intensity of Lizzie's gaze on me felt too genuine.

Her fingers brushed under my chin as she tilted my face up. "Let them try," she whispered, right before her lips pressed to mine.

Her hand slid up my jaw, into my hair. I leaned into her touch, kissed her back like I meant it, because maybe... I did.

We locked eyes.

She leaned down and cupped my jaw with delicate fingertips. Her thumb stroked my face, then lowered to my lips.

"You're safe now," she murmured to Wanda, her voice filled with emotion. "With me."

My breath caught. "I always was," I said, just barely audible.

Then, she kissed me again.

As we explored our mouths with our tongues, she slowly moved us to our bed...

Slow at the beginning. Lingering. Her lips slid against mine as if she understood every curve, every pause that made me melt. Her hands moved beneath the blanket, tracing my waist and bringing me closer. Her leg was looped around mine, possessively.

Then, with one hand, she performed her caressing movement, and I held up my hands as if they were magically tied down, because that is the effect they will add later.

"Wanda"

"OH, Wanda"

But as her lips moved to my neck, Lizzie kissed me differently. Less scripted. Hungrier. Her tongue touched my skin, and her fingers curled behind my neck.

And that is when it slid.

"Lizzie..."

I said it like a breath, a prayer.

The camera did not catch it. Nobody said anything. But I felt it. I knew it.

When the director screamed, "Cut!"I jumped upright and tucked the sheet over my chest.

"I'll, um, I'll be in my trailer," I murmured, blushing.

I didn't glance back at Lizzie. Couldn't. My heart was pounding, and my thoughts were spinning out of control. I grumbled since that was not Wanda.

That was Lizzie.

And I meant it.

I'm fucked.

I had been ghosting everyone for a weeks.

Text messages remained unopened. Conversations in groups were muted. Missed calls from Robert, Chris, Scarlett, Paul, and Lizzie.

I just couldn't.

When I moaned her name on set, it seemed like something inside me split wide open. I hadn't only crossed a professional line; I had revealed something far too true. Then I ran like a coward. Classic. And now? I couldn't even look at her, much less pretend we were "just friends" or "just coworkers."

So I remained away. From the cast. From rehearsals. From everything.

I didn't want to admit it, but the only thing that hurt was Lizzie's lack of communication.

Maybe she overheard it. Perhaps she didn't. Regardless, she remained mute.

That made things worse.

I was cuddled up on my couch, hoodie pulled over my head, watching horrible reality TV and eating cold leftovers when the doorbell rang.

I ignored it.

Then came the second ring.

Then they knocked.

Then there was some banging.

And, through the awful door—

"Y/N Salvatore, if you don't open this door in the next ten seconds, I'm calling Feige and telling him you died in a tragic avocado toast incident."

...Goddammit.

I grumbled and trudged to the door, opening it just slightly. Robert Downey, Jr. was standing there. Designer sunglasses, a wide-brimmed hat, coffee in one hand, and what appeared to be a Gucci purse in the other.

"Oh, thank God," he said, shoving past me. "I thought you had vanished. This area smells of sadness and fried chips. Not cute."

"Nice to see you, too," I mumbled, closing the door behind him.

He turned and pointed at me. "Sit. We're talking."

"I'm fine."

"Nope," he said. "You're in love, ignoring your lover, and attempting to self-sabotage before the greatest Marvel premiere of your life. Also, you haven't showered today."

I narrowed my eyes. "Did Lizzie send you?"

He snorted. "Lizzie has no idea I am here. She's too busy pretending she isn't devastated. Which, by the way, she is doing poorly at. The girl has been poking at foods as if they insulted her mother."

I glanced aside, my arms crossed across my chest.

Robert groaned and sat near me on the couch. "Look. I got it. It's messy. You are afraid. You believe you have ruined something."

"I did ruin it."

He shakes his head. "No. You felt something. She did, too. Salvatore, don't play stupid; you both acted as if you forgot there were cameras. Do you believe that type of chemistry is normal? We were all watching playback and wondering if this was still acting."

I didn't respond.

"You're not alone in this," he said quietly. "You are not a monster for having emotions. She definitely did, too. You're both simply being foolish. Which is why I am hosting dinner tonight. One of our last before the press tour madness begins. Everyone is invited. And yes, you will be there."

"I'm not going."

He stood dramatically. "That's wonderful, but I had already planned to drive you there myself. So either you get ready and arrive dressed like a Greek goddess, or I sling you over my shoulder and drag your theatrical vampire ass out in a robe."

I looked at him, blinking. "...Fine. But I'm wearing black."

"Duh. It is your color."

LATER — Y/N's BEDROOM

I stood in front of the mirror, curling the last strand of my hair. Something elegant but soft. My dress was black, yes, but tasteful. Backless. Flowing. Simple, but still dramatic. I applied a final coat of deep red lipstick.

My heart was racing.

Not because of the dinner. But because I knew I'd see her again. Lizzie.

And I had no idea how to act normally anymore.

But I could fake it. That was the job, right?

I grabbed my heels. Took a breath.

Robert was waiting downstairs, blasting ABBA on his phone like a true icon.

Time to face the chaos.

And maybe... her.

Robert's house is like a Vogue spread transformed into a mansion. There are lights everywhere, jazz playing from concealed speakers, candles flickering around the pool, and so many people.

I squinted at the sight, my heels tapping on the marble as I followed Robert through the front door. "Wait," I said, lifting an eyebrow. "Didn't you say this was a dinner?"

He smirked as he stared at me over his spectacles. "I mentioned there will be food. You imagined it meant 'calm' and 'intimate.' That is on you."

"Robert, there are at least forty people here."

"Not a single boring one. "You are welcome."

Before I could strangle him with my hold, he vanished into the crowd, greeting everyone like a Hollywood Zeus descending from Olympus.

I groaned and looked around the room. There is no indication of Lizzie.

Okay. Take a deep breath. Keep it cool.

I approached the bar, anxious for something cold and boozy. That's where I noticed Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan leaning heavily against it, as if they were in some whiskey ad.

"Ayyy, look who rose from the dead!" Anthony grinned and pulled me in for a hug.

"You do look like a vampire queen tonight," Sebastian said, lifting his glass. "I really adore it. Brooding looks fantastic on you."

"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling. "That's what two weeks of existential dread and bad reality TV will do to you."

We clinked glasses. Whiskey scorched my throat.

They spoke, asked how I was, and teased me like elder brothers, which made me chuckle. Until Anthony's smile became hazardous.

"Alright. Dare time."

Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. "This isn't high school."

"Oh, shut up, you love this." Anthony turned to face me. "Y/N, I challenge you to dance with Bucky Barnes over here. But, really, dance. None of that nice swaying. I want hip action. Maintain eye contact. Full commitment."

Sebjust chuckled and reached for my hand. "Are you up for it?"

I arched my brow. "You wish."

But I had already placed my drink down.

The music changed, darker, slower, hotter. Low boom sends through the floor.

And yes, I agreed.

I strolled with Sebastian across Robert's marble living room, as if we were in a noir club scene. Smooth, sultry, and a touch playful. His hand rested softly on my waist as I turned, our feet perfectly coordinated. Everyone around us cheered.

It was enjoyable. Light. Silly.

And suddenly, I felt it.

That sting.

It felt like flames on the back of my neck.

I turned.

Lizzie.

Standing near the bar.

Watching me.

Her jaw tensed, and the wine glass froze in midair. Her eyes focused on me.

Shit.

I quickly stepped back from Sebastian, laughed it off, and grabbed my drink, only to be stopped.

A hand was tightly wrapped around my wrist.

Fingers are warm.

"Lizzie—"

"Outside. Now."

Her voice sounded low. Controlled. Too calm.

She almost dragged me past the crowd and into a quiet corridor beside the kitchen, far enough away from the music to hear only the pounding of my own heartbeat.

And then, boom, I was pinned.

Back against a wall.

Her hands are on either side of my waist.

I'm breathing quickly.

Eyes are black.

"Are you trying to drive me insane?" she growled, moving closer.

I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I wasn't sure what to say.

She drew a trembling breath and moved back half an inch, leaving just enough space to make the tension break like a rubber band. Her voice lowered, harsh with pain. "You avoided me for weeks, Y/N."

I swallowed, remorse setting in.

"And now?" She sneered and clenched her fists. "Now you're out there... dancing with Sebastian like it's a fucking date? Really?" Her voice broke just enough to devastate me. "So what am I, nothing to you now?"

"Lizzie, no-"

"No? Then look me in the eyes and say that."

I tried. God, I tried.

But the moment our eyes met, my heart skipped, my throat tightened, and everything inside me screamed her name.

She laughed sadly, tears threatening but not dropping. "You can't, can you?"

I didn't respond.

"I was there for you," she muttered. "Through all of it. When you shut down, left the stage early, or stopped responding to texts. I waited. I worried. And still, I believed myself you only needed time."

Her fingers stroked my arm, sensitive yet trembling. "But then I walk in tonight and you're smiling like nothing happened. With him. And I can't." She broke off, coming closer.

"I can't look at you with him," she whispered. "Every time I see you with someone else, my body just" Her breath caught. "Every part of me wants to take you away, Y/N. Take you out of this room, put you against a wall, and remind you who you belong to."

She was shaking, but not because she was weak.

Pain. Passion. Love entangled in an unbreakable knot.

"Don't you get it?" She breathed and looked at me as if I were the only thing keeping her alive. "I love you."

That shattered me.

"Liz-" I gasped out.

"I want you completely," she snapped. "I do not want a half-hearted version of you. I do not desire stray looks or hushed practice. I want the version who would whisper lines into my shoulder at midnight. The one who softened as I kissed her neck after a take. I want you. All of you."

And then, suddenly, her lips were inches from me.

Breathless. Burning.

"I can't pretend this is just acting anymore. And I won't."

I gazed at her, every muscle in my body begging to let go. To give in. To tell her I felt the same way, that she wasn't alone in this insane situation. The fear of losing her kept me up every night.

"Say something," she begged.

My chest lifted and sank as if I'd just finished a marathon. Her words were still reaching in my mind: I want you totally. My lips split, but it seemed like my heart had risen up my throat,

I didn't have to think anymore. I didn't need to second-guess or pretend that she hadn't already blasted through every wall I'd ever created.

"Then kiss me."

Her breath caught.

That is all it took.

Lizzie jumped forward in an instant, her lips crashing against mine, angry and hungry. One hand was knotted in my hair, and the other gripped my waist as if she wanted to ground herself before losing control. I slid toward her, holding to her jacket as my lips parted without hesitation.

There was nothing planned or practiced about it. It was not a scene; it was real. Every brush of her tongue, every moan against my mouth, was messy, urgent, and true. We'd waited too long for this. And suddenly everything was spilling out.

She pushed me back against the wall, her body pressed against mine, her thigh slipping between mine with a possessive ease that made my breath catch and my knees weak.

Her mouth left mine, only to trail down my jaw and down my throat, biting softly before returning to my lips as if she couldn't stay away. Her hands were everywhere—sliding beneath my dress, holding my hips, and squeezing as if she didn't care who saw.

And perhaps she didn't. Perhaps I didn't either.

But then

We heard laughter on the opposite side of the hallway. Someone is calling for Chris.

Lizzie remained still.

We were both panting, foreheads mashed together, and hearts pounding like thunder.

"I swear to God," she said, eyes still closed, "if someone ruins this again, I'll kill them."

I laughed out loud, my head tilted back against the wall. "We can't do this here."

She sighed and leaned in for one more kiss, slow this time, deep and devastating. Her hand caressed my cheek as she pulled away, her gaze softening.

"Come with me," she said, her voice lower now. "Let me take you home."

I didn't even hesitate.

When we went out of that hallway, it was like walking into a spotlight. The party's talk stopped for a short moment before resuming.

"Ohhh, look who finally came up for air!" Anthony shouted, raising his cup with a smile.

Sebastian simply let out a long whistle. "It took you long enough. I thought you two were going to fuck each other there."

Chris smiled and nudged Scarlett. "Called it. I said by the end of the night, someone would be pinned to a wall."

Scarlett just rolled her eyes and raised her glass. "Finally."

I felt blood rush to my cheeks. Lizzie and I were still holding hands, fingers interlaced, lips swollen, lipstick slightly blurred, and out of breath. The proof was written all over us.

I squeezed her hand, holding back a laugh as Tom raised his brow and murmured to Zendaya, "Do we cheer? Clap? Light fireworks?"

"Fireworks," Zendaya responded without skipping a beat. "Obviously."

Lizzie simply rolled her eyes at each of them. "Children," she mumbled under her breath, turning to me with a little smile. "Let's get out of here before they start placing bets."

And with that, we slipped out.

Initially, the car was quiet. The city lights reflected a lovely golden tint through the windows, flickering over Lizzie's face as she drove. One hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh.

Her thumb brushed gentle circles at first, innocent and even oblivious. But things did not stay that way.

Her hand began to move higher, slowly and carefully.

"You know," she continued casually, not looking at me, "you have the worst poker face."

I swallowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked. "Every time I touched you back there, your breathing changed."

I scoffed, my cheeks flushed. "It did not."

Her fingers climbed a bit higher. "Did so."

"Maybe you were just breathing harder, Olsen."

"Oh, baby." Her voice dipped, seductive and sexy. "I understand how you breathe when I touch you. I've been studying it for several months."

I turned to the window, trying not to burn, but she leaned in at a red light, whispering in my ear, "And when you moaned my name before... even if no one heard it, I did."

Her fingertips were no longer simply teasing my thigh. They explored slowly, confidently, and possessively. Moving up with purpose.

I shifted slightly in my seat, pretending I wasn't losing my mind, but my breath betrayed mesharp and sharp.

Lizzie's smirk deepened, her gaze fixated on the road as if she wasn't driving me insane. "I love how quiet you get when I touch you like this," she said.

Her fingertips dipped just beneath the bottom edge of my dress, brushing across the naked skin on my inner thigh. Higher. Slower. She wasn't hurrying anything. It was as if she wanted to memorize every inch, torturing me with excitement.

"You didn't want to talk to me for weeks," she said quietly and quietly, "but now look at you. "Falling apart in the front seat."

"Lizzie..." I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for just a moment.

She hummed. "You gonna beg me to stop?"

I shook my head, jaw gritted. "No."

She gave a quiet, satisfied laugh. Her hand reached just high enough to make me gasp, and then she drew away entirely.

"What the hell?" I looked at her, breathless, but she had already pulled into her driveway.

She slowly parked the car and then turned to face me. Her lips twisted into that arrogant, drop-dead gorgeous smile, which she knew had wrecked me.

"Get inside," she urged, her tone suddenly stern and forceful. "We're not done."

My heart pounded. "You, are you serious?"

She released her seatbelt with a gentle click. "You have been taunting me for months. Dancing with Sebastian, avoiding me, moaning my name when no one should hear..." Her glance swept over me. "You don't get to walk away again."

I swallowed hard, my knees wobbly, as I hopped out of the car and followed her to the door.

Lizzie turned around, jealousy in her eyes, as the door closed behind us. Before I could blink, she was raising me with ease, as if she had been waiting all night, and my legs reflexively wrapped around her waist.

"Bedroom," I whispered against her neck, my voice shaking.

She grinned. "Obviously."

Her lips claimed mine again, deep and eager, as she went down the hall as if nothing else mattered but putting me on her bed. I felt the heat coming from her skin, and mine felt similar—burning and throbbing.

As soon as we reached the door, she lowered me into the soft sheets—but didn't pull away. Her body hung over mine, her hands slipping under the sleeves of my dress, and her tongue trailing down the side of my neck. She picked a location just below my jaw and bit—not hard, but enough to make me gasp and leave a growing bruise that she had carefully planned.

"That's mine," she said, her voice low and full of yearning.

Her hands grew impatient, pushing the dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but lace. She sat back to view me, her chest rising and falling, mouth parted, and eyes wide.

"You're so beautiful, baby." She leaned back down and kissed my collarbone. "You've got no idea what you do to me."

I arched into her, moaning quietly as her hand moved between my thighs, her fingertips ghosting across the damp cloth. "Lizzie..."

"I know," she whispered. "I know, sweetheart."

She stripped me naked with slow, deliberate strokes, caressing every inch of exposed skin as if I were precious. Her lips traced a route down my ribs, stomach, and hips, leaving hickeys as evidence of possession.

She took her time, putting her fingers inside me just as her lips touched my breast, nibbling and teasing till I trembled beneath her. Her name escaped my lips in a breathy gasp again and over, and she enjoyed it. Her other hand held my wrist down softly but strongly.

"I want everyone to see what's mine," she muttered against my skin before leaving another mark right over my heart. "I want them to know."

I was lost in her, every touch, every breath, every piece of her weight on mine. She did not simply touch me; she held me. It seemed as if she was connecting me to the world. Even with all that dominance, there was a lot of love behind it.

When I came, it was with her name on my tongue, her hands grounding me, her lips murmuring praise I couldn't even process.

She didn't stop there.

Afterwards, she kissed me softly, her hands stroking my face, her voice gentler than ever. "You okay, baby?"

I nodded, still trying to catch my breath. "You ruined me."

She grinned. "I plan to do it again. And again."

Lizzie was still catching her breath as I rolled on top of her, straddling her hips with a playful grin.

She looked up at me, confused. "Oh, you're not done?"

I bent down and kissed her softly, tongue brushing against hers, one hand creeping into her hair and the other trailing down her warm chest.

"Not even close," I said softly against her lips. "My turn."

Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Then take it, baby."

I kissed down her throat.

Her skin tasted like salt and passion, like all the fire she'd poured into me, and now I was ready to return it all. My tongue reached the top of her breast, and I sucked softly before biting down just enough to make her hiss.

"Fuck, Y/N," she muttered, leaning into me. "You're getting cocky."

"You made me this way," I said, brushing my lips over her skin, lowering myself until I was kneeling between her legs.

She stared down at me, hair tangled around her pillow, lips puffy, cheeks flushed, and her eyes?

God, she looked destroyed, yet she was still so powerful. Even in surrender, she remained untouchable.

I pulled her thighs over my shoulders, kissed the inside of her knee, then the dip of her leg, and grinned as she snapped beneath me.

"You gonna be good for me?" I asked quietly.

"I'll be whatever you want," she said, her voice broken.

Lizzie's hand quickly reached the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair, as I kissed a stripe across her pussy

"Shit, Y/N. Yes. Exactly like that, baby."

I continued on, slowly at first, teasing her with the tip of my tongue, and watched her tear. Her hips rotated in quest of more, and I gave it to her flicking, sucking, and devouring her as if I were hungry. "Baby, you're really good at this," she sighed. "Fuck, you were made for me."

Her thighs gripped around my head as I murmured against her, sending vibrations through her core, causing her to cry out. She was panting now, rubbing against my mouth, and I didn't stop, not even when her moans became louder, she tugged my hair, or her back arched.

"You want to make me come, pretty girl?" she growled.

I gazed up at her, lips wet, and nodded. "Beg for it."

Lizzie's eyes brightened up. "Oh, fuck. Are you really going to make me?"

I smirked. "Yeah."

She let out a breathless laugh. "You don't realize how hot you are like this. Please, Baby. Please make me come."

That was all I needed.

I put two fingers into her, curving them perfectly while my tongue worked on her clit and the cry that exploded from her chest was filthy. Her body bucked, her feet pressed into my back, and she let out a low groan that rang throughout the room.

"Y/N. I'm, fuck, I'm coming!"

She cracked, yelling my name and writhing under me, her thighs tightening around my head like a vice. I didn't stop until she was exhausted, jerking, and gasping for air.

When I eventually crept back up her body, she looked beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaved, her hair tangled, and her red lips parted in the softest, sweetest grin.

She threw her arms around me and drew me into her.

I kissed her shoulder, then her neck. "You're mine."

"And you're mine," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Every bit of you."

The first thing I noticed when I awoke was the silence.

The type of sweet, dreamy silence that only comes in the early morning. No cars, no texts, and no buzzing notifications. Just the warm weight of covers on my skin and the faint perfume of Lizzie on my pillow.

She was still sleeping next to me, her face buried in the blankets and one arm casually thrown across where I used to be. Her breathing was regular and quiet. Peaceful.

God, she was stunning like that.

I dropped a short kiss on her temple and slid out of bed as silently as possible, sliding one of her big t-shirts over my naked body. It covered my body, the sleeves almost reaching my elbows and touching the tops of my thighs like a dress. I grinned to myself, wondering why it felt so intimate to wear her clothing. I felt surrounded by her warmth even when she was sleeping.

Padding barefoot into the kitchen, I decided to be a nice girlfriend and prepare her breakfast. A small "thank you for last night" gesture. (And possibly: "I'm head over heels for you and can't stop thinking about how you kissed me like I was your whole world." )

When I added the eggs, the pan hissed, and I began looking around for coffee. It was busy but comfortable, me in her shirt, music playing gently from my phone on the counter, and dawn light streaming through the curtains.

Then I felt it: the familiar warmth.

Lizzie's chin settled on my shoulder as her arms wrapped around my waist from behind. She seemed warm and tired, her voice heavy and husky as she spoke.

"Mmm... Are you trying to kill me?"

I giggled and leaned back into her hug. "What?"

"You. In my shirt. Making breakfast. Looking like that." She nuzzled her cheek on my neck. "It is criminal. I should arrest you."

I grinned, putting down the spatula, and covered her hands with mine. "You're ridiculous."

"You love it."

"I do."

She hummed and gave me a delicate kiss just below my ear. "It smells nice. Are you attempting to tempt me into round two?"

I smirked as I glanced over my shoulder. "Would it work?"

Lizzie's eyes glittered, and sleep clung to her eyelids. "Baby, you are the reward."

We remained there for a bit, her arms wrapped around mine, our bodies swaying gently in time with the music. There is no haste, no world outside. It's just us.

"You know," she murmured softly, "this...this is everything."

I turned into her arms and wrapped mine around her neck. "What is?"

"This. Waking up with you. Seeing you in my kitchen. Wearing my clothes"

"Come back to bed," she whispered.

"But I'm cooking."

She nipped at my bottom lip. "Breakfast can wait."

And just like that, the eggs were forgotten...

#wlw #marvel #fluff #fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #smut

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wordsofwhimsy · 3 months ago

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【Ｏｐｐｏｓｉｔｅｓ　

Ａｔｔｒａｃｔ】 - Part Fourteen

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Toxic behavior, Mark really started trippin’ y’all 😭

Tags: Angst, ends in friend fluff tho 💖

Word Count: 2,614

Chapter Synopsis: Mark crosses a line, and you need some space.

Part Thirteen

It started small.

Emily didn’t show up for dinner. Not weird. She bailed on plans all the time. Group texts left on read, study dates missed, always with some apology typed hours later and a chaotic selfie as proof of life. She was flakey, but lovable. That was the Emily way.

Except this time, she didn’t answer you at all. And that was different. You tried her phone. Nothing. Shot her a text. Waited. Called again.

No answer.

You started to worry somewhere between your third voicemail and the walk back to your dorm. Mark didn’t say anything the whole way—just walked next to you, unusually quiet, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. When you glanced at him, his jaw was clenched tight.

“I’m starting to get worried,” you said, frowning. “Do you think something happen?”

He shrugged, eyes still locked straight ahead. “She’s probably just busy.”

“Yeah, but—”

“She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” Your frown deepened.

Slowing a little, you turned toward him as you reached your building. “Mark. Look at me.”

He did. Too fast. Eyes too bright. Too still. “What?” he said carefully.

“Did you do something?” A pause. Just long enough for your stomach to drop. “Mark,” you said again, sharper now. “What did you do?”

“I talked to her.”

Your pulse jumped. “What does talked mean?”

His expression didn’t shift. “I asked her to back off. Told her she was putting things in your head that didn’t belong there.”

Your voice went ice-cold. “When?”

“This morning.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Caught her on the quad before class. Wasn’t a big deal.”

“Then why hasn’t she answered her phone?”

That’s when something flickered in his gaze. Just for a second. Not guilt—Mark didn’t do guilt—but a kind of… recognition. Like only now did he consider that maybe, maybe, he’d gone a little too far, and was suddenly calculating how much of that he had to admit.

You stepped back. Just one pace. But he noticed. Of course he noticed. “What did you say to her?” you asked, voice low.

Mark hesitated. “I told her I’d never hurt you. That she was overstepping. That if she really cared about you, she’d keep her distance.”

“Mark—”

“And,” he added, “I might’ve said that if she kept trying to turn you against me, I’d make sure she regretted it.”

You stared. “You threatened her?”

He stepped forward, defensive now, tone tight. “It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. I won’t let anyone get between us.”

“No, Mark—no!” You shoved his hand away when he reached for you, fire rising in your chest. “That’s not—that’s not right!”

“You are mine, [y/n]. She doesn’t get a say,” he snapped, louder now—sharper than you’d ever heard him.

You flinched. It was small—barely a step back, just the smallest twitch of your shoulders—but it was enough. Enough for him to see it. Enough for it to gut him.

Your lips pressed together hard, eyes shining with sudden heat. Not rage—something smaller. More fragile. You were trying not to cry.

Mark’s chest rose and fell, too fast, like he suddenly couldn’t find enough air. His hands clenched at his sides, then flexed open again, desperate to reach for you but not daring to move.

“I—” He stopped. Swallowed. His voice dropped, low and unsteady. “I didn’t mean to yell.” But the damage was done. You weren’t looking at him the same way. “I wasn’t—” His jaw worked, and now he looked like he might break. “You’re not supposed to be scared of me.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly, but your voice was shaking, your eyes still too wide. “I’m not scared. I just—” You exhaled hard and turned away, like you were trying to gather yourself before the tears really fell.

Mark moved like he couldn’t help it—just a few inches forward, a hand outstretched toward your shoulder, your wrist, something.

But you flinched again.

You didn’t mean to. It was instinct—too quick, too raw—and the second his expression shattered, you felt worse. So you gave him a smile. A tiny, trembling, obviously fake thing that didn’t reach your eyes.

“I’m okay,” you said, voice thin. “But I need some time right now.”

Mark’s mouth opened like he wanted to protest, but you shook your head.

“Please don’t follow me.”

Then you turned—fast, before your voice could crack—and speed-walked across the quad, backpack bouncing against your shoulder, hands balled in your sleeves like you needed to hold yourself together.

Mark stood frozen in place. Watching. Wind cutting through him like it had teeth.

He didn’t move until you disappeared inside the dorm.

Then he exhaled, slow and heavy, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes like he could hold in the weight of the moment. He felt too big for his own skin. Like every cell in his body was screaming to go after you—but he knew if he did, he’d lose you completely.

Goddammit.

There was only one person who could help him fix this.

And she already hated his guts.

Emily’s POV

The common room was quiet—mostly. Just the soft hum of vending machines and the occasional page turning from someone behind her. A perfect pocket of solitude. She had music playing low in one ear, textbook cracked open in front of her, legs curled under her in one of those ancient vinyl chairs that squeaked if you so much as breathed too loud.

She was mid-scroll through her notes when she glanced up—and nearly launched her laptop across the room.

Mark Grayson was standing in the doorway.

Not in the room. Just… standing there. Lurking. Broody. Hands shoved into his jacket pockets, jaw clenched, eyes fixed directly on her like he was waiting for a reason to bolt or explode.

She shot to her feet instinctively. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?”

His eyes widened slightly. “I—”

“Nope.” She held out a hand like a stop sign. “You said that exact thing last time and then scared the shit out of me, so forgive me if I’m a little twitchy.”

“Emily—” His voice was low. Measured. Like he was being careful with every word, which honestly just made her more nervous. “I just want to talk.”

She squinted at him, suspicious. “Do you even know how to have a normal conversation without sounding like you’re about to blow up a building?”

Mark opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed the back of his neck like he was choking on something unspeakably difficult.

“I… I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he managed finally, every syllable like pulling teeth. “To you. Earlier.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of an apology?”

“I’m trying, okay?” He looked genuinely pained by the effort. “I don’t—I’m not good at this.”

Emily crossed her arms, not budging an inch. “You threatened me.”

“I know.”

“You said you’d end me.”

“I know.”

“You showed up with that same murder-face you’ve got right now and made me feel like I wasn’t gonna make it to my 10AM tomorrow—”

“Okay, yes,” he cut in, visibly flustered. “I’m sorry. I was… I was out of line. Way out of line.” She stared him down another moment, letting him stew, then tilted her head slowly.

“You fucked up,” she said flatly.

Mark looked like he’d been punched. “I—yeah.”

Emily didn’t move, just let the silence hang until Mark got visibly more uncomfortable, hands twitching at his sides. Then, like she was connecting dots aloud: “She’s not speaking to you.”

Mark glanced away, jaw tightening again. That was all the answer she needed.

“Ohhhh,” she said, drawing it out like a lightbulb just clicked. “Oh. She finally saw it.”

His head snapped back toward her, and for a second she thought he might snap something else—but no. He just swallowed and nodded. Quiet. That silence of a guy who knew he’d gone too far and now didn’t know how to come back from it.

Emily let out a long sigh, eyes softening just a fraction. “Damn,” she muttered, like it surprised her a little. “You’re kinda helpless, dude.”

Mark looked at her, and this time there was no defensiveness. Just guilt. And something that definitely reflected a feeling of helplessness. “She told me not to follow her,” he said. “But I need to make it right. And I don’t know how.”

Emily exhaled, dragging a hand through her hair. “So what, you want me to be your wingman now?”

“I want her to be okay,” he said simply. That… caught her off guard. Just a little.

Emily stared at him a beat longer, lips pursed like she was debating whether to respond with honesty or just a well-placed middle finger. In the end, she rolled her eyes—dramatic, long-suffering—and started gathering her things.

Mark straightened. “Wait—what are you—?”

“You said you want her to be okay,” she said, slinging her bag over one shoulder without looking at him. “So stay here and let her be okay.”

“But—”

“Nope.” She cut him off with a quick flick of her hand, already moving toward the door. “You’ve done enough, my guy. Girl time is officially in session. Go punch a mountain or whatever it is you do to cope.”

Mark took a half step forward, brows knitting. “Emily, please—”

“Mark.” She turned at the doorway, gaze sharp, the weight of everything he’d done—and everything she knew he was still trying to figure out—hanging heavy in her voice. “If you really want to fix this? You don’t get to make it about you.”

He went still.

“She needs space. She needs a friend. And for once I don’t think that ‘friend’ should be you.” With that, she turned and walked out.

—

You’d barely made it back to the dorm before the breakdown started.

You weren’t crying—yet—but your eyes were hot and your throat was tight, and you’d been pacing the same corner of the room like a stressed-out ghost ever since you got there. Your hoodie sleeves were damp from rubbing at your eyes, and you kept mumbling “I’m fine, I’m fine” like if you said it enough, it’d actually become true.

Then the door creaked open.

And there she was.

Emily stood in the doorway, slightly winded like she’d half-jogged back from wherever she’d been, eyes immediately scanning for you.

You froze.

She only had to see your face for one second before her bag hit the floor and you burst into sobs.

“Em—Emily—” you hiccupped, stumbling forward and practically throwing yourself into her arms, voice going embarrassingly high and watery. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe he said that to you, I—I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know—”

“Shhh, hey—hey, it’s okay,” she murmured, pulling you close, but her voice cracked, too. You could feel her hugging you tighter, her own breath getting shaky as you clung to each other. “I’m sorry! I should’ve never let him push me out like that—God, I felt like shit all morning—”

“I thought you hated me,” you sobbed, fisting the back of her shirt like a child. “I thought I lost you—”

“I never hated you,” she whispered fiercely, her voice thick now, hugging you tighter as she blinked through her own tears. “I was just scared, and then he looked at me like—like I was already gone.”

You cried harder.

“I—I didn’t know he would actually say something,” you wailed, “like who the hell threatens my best friend?! He’s so—so stupid, and I hate him right now, and I don’t hate him and I just—!”

“I know, babe, I know,” she breathed, laughing weakly through the tears. “God, he’s such a psycho golden retriever. I want to punch him and also wrap him in a blanket and feed him calming tea.”

You laughed—gurgled, really—into her shoulder, still clinging like your life depended on it.

Emily squeezed you tighter. “You didn’t lose me, okay? You’re stuck with me forever. Sorry. No refunds.”

You nodded into her, finally starting to breathe again.

An hour later, the tears had mostly dried. You were both curled up on your bed in the soft glow of your desk lamp—blankets piled around you, snacks you’d barely touched scattered across the comforter. Your head was on Emily’s shoulder, and her fingers were gently carding through your hair in that absent, soothing way only best friends seem to know how to do.

It was quiet. Peaceful. Comforting in a way you hadn’t felt in what felt like way too long.

“God,” you mumbled into her shirt. “I was actually ready to just sit in this room and cry for like… a week.”

Emily snorted, brushing a tear-dried strand of hair away from your cheek. “We’d need more chips. And maybe a priest.”

You laughed—a real laugh this time—and she smiled like she’d been holding her breath waiting to hear it.

“I’m so sorry again,” you said, softer now. “I feel like I let him… twist stuff. Like I wasn’t seeing things clearly. You were trying to protect me and I just—”

“Hey. Stop.” She squeezed your arm. “I get it, okay? You were in it. And he wasn’t just some random guy. He’s Mark. You love him.”

You swallowed thickly.

“I do,” you admitted. “But I love you, too. And I—I need you. You helped me remember who I was outside of him. I didn’t even realize I was losing that until you pulled me back.”

Emily didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at you with that soft, loyal fire in her eyes. Then she tilted her head, casual but sly. “So… wanna hear something wild?”

You pulled back a little, eyes narrowing. “What?”

She raised her brows. “Guess who came skulking around looking like a kicked puppy and said the words ‘I’m sorry’ like they were poisonous?”

Your jaw dropped. “No.”

“Oh yeah.” She reached for a gummy worm and popped it into her mouth, smug. “Homeboy showed up. Like, full broody model-mode. Leaning in doorways. Shadows under his eyes. Probably fresh off lurking on a rooftop or something.”

You blinked. “And you didn’t mace him?”

“I wanted to,” she said, then gave you a look. “But he was… different this time. Like he’d finally realized he messed up bad.”

Your heart pinched a little. “What’d he say?”

Emily shrugged, eyes softening. “Didn’t get far. Just that he wanted you to be okay. That’s when I left. Figured it wasn’t really him you needed right then.”

You exhaled shakily. “You were right.”

She bumped your shoulder with hers. “I usually am.”

You let the silence settle again for a moment. Then, quietly: “Do you think I’m stupid for still wanting this to work?”

Emily didn’t answer right away. Then she said, honest as ever, “No. But I think you’ve gotta make him earn it.” You looked up at her. “Like, no more boyfriend-speedruns to ‘I’m your entire life,’” she said, giving your blanket-covered leg a gentle nudge. “He wants a future with you? He can start by respecting the people already in it.”

You blinked. Then smiled. “You’re really good at this.”

Emily winked. “I know. I should charge.” You giggled and snuggled back in, your head against her shoulder again.

And for the first time all day, your heart didn’t feel so heavy.

———————

Part Fifteen

———————

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic #mohawk mark x reader

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genevievefangirl · 10 months ago

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Master Post - Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics!

It is finally here! My personal top 100 DBDA fics!

My friends in the DBDA Haunt Discord server know that I am an avid fic reader. I read multiple hours every day and have read a very large chunk of all the DBDA fics out there (that are tagged Payneland). I constantly recommend fics in our fanfic channel and thought, "Well, why don't I make a huge rec list in recognition of how wonderful the fic writers of this fandom are?" And thus the idea for this list was born!

I have been working on this since the cancellation announcement almost 2 months ago. It has taken me that long to go back through my over 350+ DBDA bookmarks and select only the best of the best to be featured here.

Thank you to every fic writer in this fandom! You are all amazing and I love your work! Your creations are what keep the fandom alive and healthy!

Some caveats before we begin:

These fics are in alphabetical order by title.

I have a Payneland bias. All of these are Payneland fics. Maybe I will make a list sometime that has more ship variety, but for now, that is what is on the list.

I also have a very strong hurt/comfort & angst bias, so there will be a lot of that on here as well! But there are a few fluffy fics too!

There is no smut on this list. Sorry, smut just isn't my thing. There is exactly one fic rated E on here.

Not all tags are listed! I have selected the ones that I feel are the most important and in some cases added some that I felt were missing. But please read the full tag list on the fic itself!

I will be releasing 10 fics a day for 10 days, to make the posts more readable and to have some fun!

And now... THE LIST!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11 - WIPs

(and yes I will link a google sheets version once all the parts are out)

#gen's 100 DBDA fics masterpost #gen's 100 DBDA fics #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #payneland #charles rowland #dbda #dbda fanfiction #dbda fanfic #save dead boy detectives #paineland #fic rec #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #the dead boy detective agency #the dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency

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paucubarsisimp · 4 months ago

Note

Hi darling, sorry if I’m rambling a bit, I swear I didn’t mean to write this much, I don’t even know how it got this long, but I would love if you could write something like this for Jude, only if you feel comfortable with it, of course!

So, the idea is that the reader and Jude have been having this little romance, but the problem is, the reader ends up falling for him without meaning to. Scared of her feelings and how intense everything is getting, she decides to visit her parents, hoping to distract herself and clear her head. What she doesn't know, though, is that her parents were already expecting guests — she just didn’t ask much about it.

It turns out, the guests are no other than Jude's family. Her dad and Jude's dad are old friends who lost touch a bit due to Jude's career, so it’s been years since they all got together. Jude's parents still remember the reader as the sweet little girl she used to be, but now she’s very much not that anymore.

And the real twist? Jude is there too. They meet again under the same roof, full of unresolved feelings, stolen glances, tension, and emotions the reader was trying so hard to run away from.

untold feelings

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

summary: basically the request, idk how to summarise this

warnings: none! maybe js a sprinkle of angst?

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb,@joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

the relationship — or whatever it was, really — with jude had started so effortlessly. a few casual flirts here and there, some late-night texts, stolen moments that felt like the world was shifting under your feet. and somewhere between the laughs and the smiles, you realized you were falling for him.

that wasn’t part of the plan.

at first, you tried to brush it off. you told yourself it was just fun, just a phase. but every time he smiled at you, every time you found yourself tangled in the soft glow of his gaze, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. the pull. the intensity. your heart racing every time he was near. and that terrified you.

you didn’t want to fall for him. you couldn’t. he was a rising star, and you were just… you. someone who’d been chasing fleeting moments of happiness, only to get tangled in emotions you weren’t sure how to handle.

so, you did what anyone running from feelings would do — you ran.

you packed a bag and decided to visit your parents for a while, hoping the change of scenery would clear your head. you needed space. you needed to breathe without jude’s presence looming over you like a weight on your chest.

but what you hadn’t anticipated was the guest list.

when you stepped into your parents’ house, the usual peace of the place was broken by the sound of voices in the living room. you had expected the calm, the familiarity of home, but not this — not the low murmur of conversation or the laughter that felt oddly out of place.

“i didn’t know you were expecting guests,” you called, the surprise leaking into your tone.

your mom appeared in the doorway with a smile that quickly faded into a curious expression. “oh, sweetheart, you’re here! i didn’t think you’d make it in time… but look who’s visiting.”

you stepped forward, your mind still processing the situation. your gaze flicked toward the living room, and there, standing like an uninvited guest in the middle of your quiet home, was none other than jude.

his eyes widened in recognition. he was frozen for a moment, clearly just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. it was like the world stopped, and all you could hear was the soft hum of your own heartbeat.

you didn’t know what to say.

“jude?” your voice broke the silence, your breath catching in your throat.

he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. finally, he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “well, this is… unexpected,” he muttered, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

your parents were talking casually about something else, oblivious to the tension now hanging in the air. your mom motioned for you to come closer. “don’t be shy, dear. you know jude’s family, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you managed, your words feeling distant. “i know them.”

but this? this was… something entirely different.

jude’s parents, denise and mark, immediately greeted you as though it had been years since they last saw you — which, technically, it had. denise gave you a warm hug, ruffling your hair affectionately, like she used to when you were younger. mark, always the more reserved of the two, gave you a firm handshake and a kind smile. jude’s younger brother, jobe, stood off to the side, eyeing you curiously.

you nodded politely, though you barely heard their conversation. jude’s presence was like a weight on your chest, heavy and familiar.

you had tried so hard to forget how much you cared for him, to shut down the feelings that threatened to spill over the moment you saw him again. but standing there, under the same roof as jude, all of that effort seemed pointless.

why is he here? you wanted to ask.

but you couldn’t. because the answer was obvious. his father was an old friend of your dad’s, and they had likely reconnected after years of distance — a distance caused by jude’s skyrocketing career.

he still looked the same. taller, maybe, but the boyish charm was still there. the same smile, the same confidence that made your heart flutter even as you tried so hard not to let it.

you caught his eye across the room, and for a split second, it felt like you were the only two people in the house. but then, quickly, he turned his attention back to his parents.

you sighed quietly to yourself. you were trapped. there was no escaping the mess of emotions swirling inside you. no running away anymore.

the evening passed in a blur. the conversation continued around you, but you barely registered it. jude’s parents were asking about your life, your family, your work. it all seemed so distant compared to the internal war raging inside you.

you had to get out.

with a polite smile, you excused yourself and retreated to the back of the house, pretending to check your phone or needing a breath of fresh air. you stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face like a splash of cold water. you walked down the familiar path to the backyard, trying to focus on anything but the overwhelming feeling of jude’s presence in your home.

how did this happen? you thought, standing still under the quiet night sky. how did we end up here, like this, when i’ve been trying so hard to move on?

you tried to breathe, tried to forget, but the moment you closed your eyes, you could still feel jude’s presence in the room, his eyes watching you, his voice lingering in the air. you couldn’t escape it.

the night stretched on, and you found yourself pacing the backyard, unsure of how to handle the storm brewing inside you. jude’s presence was like an uninvited guest at your own party, making everything feel tense and unfamiliar. the old, familiar feelings were creeping back in, despite all your attempts to bury them.

you glanced at the back door, wondering if you should go back inside, pretend that you were fine, that everything was normal. but a part of you knew it wasn’t normal. not anymore.

the sound of footsteps behind you made you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“you okay?” jude’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure whether to approach you or give you space.

you spun around slowly, your heart racing. jude stood just a few feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking at you with that familiar intensity that made your chest tighten. the way his eyes searched yours made it feel like there was no one else around.

“yeah,” you said, though the word felt hollow. “just needed some air.”

he took a step closer, his gaze flicking toward the door. “you don’t seem like you’re okay.”

you didn’t have an answer. how could you? how could you explain to him the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling without sounding like you were losing your mind? the truth was, you were anything but okay.

“i don’t know what’s happening,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “everything’s just… messed up.”

jude didn’t speak right away. instead, he closed the gap between you, standing so close that you could feel the warmth of his presence, the familiar scent of his cologne mixing with the cool night air.

“it’s not messed up,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “we’re just… different now. things have changed. that’s all.”

his words made your heart skip, and for a moment, you wished you could just forget everything. forget the feelings that were pushing their way to the surface, the confusion, the fear.

but it wasn’t that simple, was it?

you took a small step back, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “no, it’s not that easy,” you said, your voice more firm than before. “i can’t just… ignore how i feel, jude. i can’t keep pretending this is just some casual thing when it’s not.”

he flinched, his brow furrowing as he took in your words. you saw something flash across his face — guilt, maybe, or maybe something else entirely. but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with that same stoic expression that always seemed to distance him.

“i’m not pretending either,” he said, his voice low. “i feel it too. you think i don’t know what this is doing to both of us?”

the words hit you harder than you expected. there was no pretending, no avoiding it. jude felt the same way, and somehow, that made it worse.

you swallowed hard, your chest tight. “then why… why are we doing this? why are we playing this game when we both know it’s more than that?”

jude stepped closer again, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. “because it’s easier this way,” he murmured. “it’s easier to pretend we don’t care, to ignore it, than to actually face the mess it would make.”

you stared at him, the words echoing in your head. easier to pretend.

was that really how it was? or was he just too afraid to admit what was between you two? the connection, the spark that had always been there, but was now too big to ignore.

“but it’s not easy,” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. “not anymore.”

for a moment, jude didn’t say anything. he just stood there, looking at you with a mixture of confusion and understanding. the tension between you two was palpable, thick enough that you could almost taste it.

“maybe we don’t need to pretend anymore,” he said softly. his eyes never left yours, and for the first time, you saw something raw in them — vulnerability, something he never showed anyone.

your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at him. jude bellingham, the one person you had been running from for weeks, was standing right in front of you, his emotions laid bare. he wasn’t hiding from you anymore, and it made everything feel so much more real.

but that was the problem, wasn’t it? the moment you stopped pretending, everything became real.

you wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck in your throat. how could you even begin to explain the mess inside your head? how could you ask him for something you didn’t even fully understand yourself?

before you could speak, jude took a deep breath and stepped back, breaking the moment. “look,” he said, his tone shifting. “i didn’t come out here to make this harder for you. i just… i just wanted to check on you.”

you nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the unspoken words still hanging between you. “thanks,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

jude hesitated, then gave you a small, almost sad smile. “i’m here, if you need me. you know that, right?”

you didn’t know how to respond, but you managed a faint smile. “yeah, i know.”

he nodded, then turned to walk back inside. you stood there for a moment longer, watching him go, the feelings swirling inside you like a storm you couldn’t control.

things were never going to be the same again.

the next morning, you woke to the sound of laughter drifting through the house. the kind of laughter that filled the entire space, making everything seem lighter, as though the weight of last night had somehow lifted in your sleep.

you rolled over, squinting at the clock. it was already late, too late to be in bed when everyone was up and moving. you let out a small sigh and pulled yourself out of bed, throwing on some comfortable clothes before heading downstairs.

the moment you stepped into the kitchen, you were greeted by the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sight of your dad, jude’s dad, mark, and the rest of the family sitting at the table.

jude was there, too.

he looked up as you entered, offering a small, knowing smile, but you could see the tension in his eyes. you both had spent the night avoiding each other after that conversation outside, but neither of you could ignore the air between you.

“morning,” you said, trying to sound casual, even though everything inside you felt anything but.

“hey, there you are,” your dad said, looking up from his coffee with a smile. “how’d you sleep?”

“fine,” you muttered, giving him a half-smile as you moved toward the coffee pot.

“you’re just in time for breakfast,” mark said with a grin. “we’re all catching up. haven’t seen your dad in years.”

you nodded, but your attention was fixed on jude. he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but you could feel the weight of his presence. it was almost like you were in the same room but still miles apart.

“yeah, it’s been too long,” your dad agreed, clearly enjoying the reunion. “so, jude, how’s everything going with football? must be keeping you busy, huh?”

jude gave a tight smile, his usual charm not quite reaching his eyes. “yeah, it’s been hectic. but it’s good. busy is better than the alternative, right?”

“for sure,” your dad said, clearly impressed. “you’re doing well, though. the whole family’s proud of you.”

“thanks,” jude replied, his voice quieter than usual.

you poured yourself a cup of coffee, taking a deep breath before sitting down at the table. you didn’t know how you were going to get through this morning without making everything awkward. the air was thick, and every time your gaze flicked to jude, it felt like the space between you grew.

you stirred your coffee, trying to find something to say, but nothing seemed to come out right. how could you make small talk when all you could think about was last night?

it wasn’t long before the conversation shifted to the weather, and everyone fell into a more comfortable rhythm. but every now and then, your eyes would meet jude’s, and for a split second, you’d catch that look in his eyes — that unspoken connection, that weight between you two that no one else could see.

after breakfast, your dad suggested a walk around the neighborhood. jude’s parents seemed eager to go, and before you knew it, everyone was outside, enjoying the sun.

you trailed behind, your thoughts running in circles. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to be in this position, feeling this torn between the past and the present.

“hey,” a voice called from behind you, pulling you from your thoughts. you turned to find jude walking toward you, his hands in his pockets, his gaze flickering nervously to the side.

“hey,” you said, keeping your tone neutral, though your heart was racing.

he stopped just a few feet away from you, the space between you two suddenly feeling impossibly small. “look, about last night—”

“jude,” you interrupted, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into your voice. “we don’t have to talk about it. it was… a lot.”

he hesitated, his lips pressed together as if he were trying to find the right words. “i know. but i just… i didn’t want you to think that i didn’t mean what i said. i wasn’t just saying it to say it. i care about you, okay?”

the words hit you harder than you expected, catching you off guard. you blinked, trying to process what he’d said.

“you care about me?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah,” jude replied, his voice soft but firm. “i do. i’ve always cared about you. even when we were younger. i didn’t just forget about you, you know?”

his words felt like a punch to the gut, and you had to steady yourself against the nearest tree. you hadn’t been prepared for this, for him to put all of that out there.

“i never forgot about you either,” you said, your voice shaky.

the moment hung between you, the weight of everything that had been left unsaid building between you both. you were both standing in the same place, but you were miles apart in your heads.

“so… what does that mean for us now?” you asked quietly, dreading the answer but knowing it was something you had to hear.

jude looked down for a moment, then back up at you. “i don’t know,” he admitted. “but i’m not running from this anymore. i’m not pretending it’s nothing.”

you swallowed hard, trying to process it all. everything felt like it was coming at you too fast. the feelings, the uncertainty, the fear of what might come next.

“me neither,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

jude stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. “so… what now?”

you looked away, feeling a mixture of longing and doubt swirling inside of you. you didn’t have the answers. you didn’t know what the future held, but you couldn’t keep running from it.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, voice trembling. “but i think… i think we need to figure it out.”

he nodded, looking relieved, but there was still that heavy silence between you two. it wasn’t resolved yet, not by a long shot, but for the first time, you didn’t feel like you were facing this alone.

the rest of the afternoon felt like a blur, every moment dragged out in a haze of nervous tension. you and jude barely spoke again after your walk, each of you lost in your thoughts, avoiding one another but never truly out of sight. jude’s family stuck around for a while longer, filling the house with conversations that seemed to bounce off the walls, but you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest.

every time you caught jude’s eye, the air around you thickened, charged with unspoken words and emotions neither of you knew how to articulate. you weren’t sure how long you could keep avoiding this.

later that evening, after everyone had left and the house was quiet again, you found yourself sitting at the kitchen table, staring at your phone. there were a million things you could do — call a friend, watch something mindless on Netflix, drown yourself in something that could pull your mind away from the mess inside it. but nothing seemed like it would help. nothing could distract you from jude.

you jumped when the back door opened and jude stepped inside, the sound of the door closing softly behind him.

“hey,” he said, his voice cautious, as if unsure whether he should even be here.

“hey,” you replied, without looking up from your phone, hoping that the distraction would somehow keep your emotions at bay.

jude hesitated, then took a few steps forward. “you okay?”

you finally looked up, meeting his gaze. it felt like you were staring at him for the first time, really seeing him. his eyes were heavy with something you couldn’t quite name, a vulnerability that was almost too much to bear.

“i’m… i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice soft. “i’m just trying to figure things out.”

he nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “me too.”

you both stood there in silence, the quietness of the house pressing in on you, making it all feel too real. too much.

finally, jude took a step closer, his eyes flicking to your phone as if it were the only thing stopping you from having a real conversation. “so… what now?” he asked again, his voice lower this time, like he was afraid of the answer.

you didn’t know. you didn’t know what now even meant anymore. you didn’t know if you were supposed to put the walls back up, ignore the feelings growing between you two, or if this was the moment to break through the barrier and admit that there was something more.

you opened your mouth, but no words came out at first. you closed your eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath. “i don’t know, jude. i just… everything feels… complicated.”

he moved closer, standing beside the table now. you could feel the warmth of his presence, the space between you shrinking with every passing second. his hand hovered near yours, like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if it was okay.

“complicated?” he echoed, a small, half-laugh escaping his lips. “i guess that’s one way to put it.”

you let out a humorless chuckle, the tension between you both palpable. “i can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t matter,” you said softly, looking up at him. “i can’t keep pretending that it’s just some fling. Imatter to you, and you matter to me.”

his expression softened, his lips pressing together in a tight line as he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours like he was testing the waters.

“i never wanted it to be casual, not really,” jude said quietly. his hand moved to cover yours fully, warmth spreading from his touch to your chest. “i just didn’t know how to tell you. didn’t know what to say when i started feeling… this.”

your heart skipped at his words, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you, standing in the kitchen, hearts laid bare for the first time.

“you should’ve told me,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “i was scared too, jude. scared of what we were, scared of what this could be.”

“i know,” he said, his thumb brushing over your hand gently. “but i didn’t want to mess it up.”

“so what now?” you asked again, finally daring to meet his eyes.

this time, jude didn’t look away. he stepped closer, closing the distance between you, his hand still holding yours firmly. “now… we stop pretending, right? we stop being afraid of what’s between us. because it’s there, and it’s not going anywhere. we have to face it.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine. the intensity in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice — it was everything you’d been avoiding, and everything you couldn’t deny anymore.

“okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “okay.”

you didn’t need anything else. the words were enough to make the reality of it all sink in. this was happening. whatever was between you and jude, it was real, and it wasn’t going away.

without another word, jude leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow, tentative at first, like he was still unsure of how much you were ready for. but you responded, pulling him closer, letting your lips deepen the kiss as you surrendered to the emotions that had been building between you two for so long.

in that moment, you knew nothing was going to be simple anymore. there would be no easy answers, no guarantees. but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t alone.

#football #footballer x reader #football imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham imagine #rma #jb5 #real madrid

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fflrrrtt · 23 days ago

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Recognition pt.3

(Pro-Hero Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

This chapter is longer than the past two for plot development (and compensation for not uploading this as promised last week); Chapter 4 should be shorter than this. I highly recommend listening to Safety Net by Ariana Grande while reading this fic because the song meaning relates to this chapter.

Let me know if any of you guys wants to be added to a tag list!

For Chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

“My migraine would always come back even though I would take pain killers,” your patient grew worried, “It would show up every now and then.”

You skimmed through the medical assistant’s notes on the patient monitor. “We can’t have you taking a lot of painkillers per day because it will affect your kidneys.” You turn your attention to the patient, “I’ll refer you to a neurologist. For now, please avoid anything that heightens your stress, as it will increase your cortisol levels, which means your migraines will most likely return.”

After five doctor visits later, you’re already weary, and it’s only been three hours since you clocked in. It’s only gonna get busier, you sighed, adjusting your white coat to your liking. It wasn’t lost on you that you’d agreed to let a student from U.A. shadow you today, so you have to trek your way to the main hospital, shaking your head at the thought of postponing it. You’ve already held off on this request twice now, reasonably so.

But this time? There are zero excuses for moving the student’s request to another date. Besides, you have a meeting with the One for All Hero, Deku. It’ll be great exposure for the overzealous kid.

Once you leave the clinic with the expensive leather handbag you bought as a self-care treat last week, you don’t waste time entering the public transit and looking for a bus seat. It wasn’t crowded compared to the early morning rush hour, so it was easy to find a spot to put your ass on. While the bus halted at a stoplight, your thoughts drifted to your relationships with the esteemed heroes. Crazily enough, most of them have told you to just address them by their names. You were with Yaoyorozu last weekend at a tea ceremony; Hatsume even called upon you to give insight about her new ‘baby’. They all seem to warm up to you despite your initial concern about fitting in.

As if on cue, the brooding blonde immediately entered your mind. Your interactions with him are nothing but curt and work-related. You internally admit that he’s intimidating, but you don’t let it show, and instead, you try to match his intensity. You’re not a pushover, and you’d rather count all the sand particles on the beach than let him have the upper hand.

Though…even if it’s just work-related, you enjoy this man’s company. Would Dynamight even want me to call him by his name? “No. Stop it. Don’t even think about it.” You whispered to yourself, cutting the thought short; the older man sitting across from you stood up once the bus stopped and moved to a different seat.

You don’t have the luxury to indulge in romance, and you can tell that he doesn’t either! Other than being a physician, you’re also shouldering familial duties and other responsibilities. To put it simply, you don’t have time for a distraction .

Eventually, you made it into the hospital on time, seeing the kid you chose to have under your wing, waiting and excited. The kid’s name is Katsuma Shimano—very diligent, following your every move, and muttering from time to time as you both walk down the sterile hospital hallway.

“Ok, so here’s where things get a tad bit complicated in my case,” you say, “We’ll meet the number four hero to discuss a few things here!” The kid’s eyes lit ever so brightly at that. You pulled out your phone to check a string of messages from the freckled hero, “Scratch that, we’re meeting him at….Dynamight’s Agency...?”

“Oh! My older sister looks up to Dynamight!” he beamed, “Can’t wait to tell her this!”

Thank God—or whoever’s up there—his agency’s not far away, but dammit, you’re starting to regret wearing your mini heels. Your feet are hurting, and you know it’s gonna develop a blister by the end of the day. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself because instead of switching into sneakers in the physician’s locker room, you just gritted through it even though the signs were being thrown at your face.

Upon entering Dynamight’s office, you marveled at how sleek and minimalist it is. A high floor with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a skyline view that reminds everyone who's really at the top. The natural light hits sleek, matte-black walls, and the concrete floors are softened by a Persian rug that costs more than your condo rent. Every piece of furniture has a purpose; No clutter, no excess. Just bold lines, cool tones, and quiet confidence.

“Oh, Doc—hi!!” Midoriya’s voice is gentle for a man who managed to beat Shigaraki with insane, borderline violent fight tactics. Standing behind him is the AirCon Hero: Shoto and the man who was in your thoughts a few hours ago. All three are clad in their sleek hero costumes. Shimano was practically beaming

“We hope we’re not bothering you three, I came here to discuss a little bit about Dek—uhm—Midoriya’s inquiries,” you greeted.

“Shit better be quick.” Dynamight rasps, arms crossed.

“It will be, Dynamight.” You hand the manila folder to Midoriya.

Well, the discussion wasn’t quick. Midoriya had question after question that you answered diligently. You don’t blame him, though. He just wants things to be thorough. “Doctor,” Midoriya speaks again, “Thanks for helping Ochako. She told me that you were the woman who gave her advice and treated matcha at the cafe shop months ago.”

That confirms your suspicion. “I—well. It’s nothing!” you wave it off, “I’m just doing my job. Her quirk counseling has helped a shit ton of kids. Excuse my language.” by the minute, your feet are screaming in pain, “It’s the least I can do.”

“Tha’s enough.” Dynamight interrupts, “I don’t got all day chit chattin’.”

Everyone stepped outside his agency. Shimano was talking with Midoriya, and Todoroki was standing next to Midoriya, throwing a few words here and there. You’re just letting the kid have his moment with his hero; It’s obvious that he looks up to them, especially Midoriya.

“Oi.”

You whip your head to the blonde. What could he possibly—

He stared ahead, “Stop bein’ fuckin’ stubborn and your feet will thank you.”

The lazy, golden breeze swishes under the clear, sunny sky, brushing against your skin with a barely-there touch as you stare at him, eyes wide, “How did you even—”

“Doc,” Todoroki’s voice cuts through the interaction, “I was wondering if the medical files for my late brother, Touya Todoroki, are fixed.” His voice is calm and even. “I can visit your office tonight after my night patrol.”

“Sure.” You nod, “My office is on the third floor. If I’m not there, I’ll be in the emergency room doing my rounds and helping other injured heroes, if there are any. Just tell the front desk that you’re there to see me—that is, if they’re being tough on you, but I highly doubt that. You’re the number two hero.” You chuckle, unnoticing how the blonde’s demeanor shifted just a fraction, “If I’m not at the two places I told you, just have them page me.”

That night, you were waiting for Todoroki to show up in your office. “Are you waiting for loverboy?” Miyano leans by the door frame, smirking, shoulder bag slung over her shoulder. “The number two hero?” You laugh, putting your files in the office storage file, “He just wants to clarify about the medical files.”

She makes herself comfortable, plopping down on the chair across from your desk, “Oh, come on. You’re literally exposed to these fine ass people and you’re telling me nobody caught your eye? Not even the number two hero?!!? He’s one of the prettiest men out here.” Someone did catch my attention, you bit your lip, before saying, “Nah,” closing the drawer, standing up to face your friend, “You know I—” “Don’t have the time to do romance. Blah blah blah.” She rolls her eyes, finishing the sentence, “No offense—actually full offense, you’re one of the most capable people I know, but you don’t give grace to yourself. It’s so okay to rest and live your damn life by allowing yourself to feel and shit, but no matter how much I say this to you, you wouldn’t even follow.”

“You done talkin’?” Dynamight’s voice made you and Miyano jolt in surprise, not expecting a third person to intervene. Let alone Dynamight of all people.

“D-dynamight?!” you’re incredulous, “What are you doing here?”

“Patch me up,” he says flatly, clad in his summer hero suit, crossing his strong arms.

Miyano quickly stood up and excused herself, mouthing a ‘good luck’ to you before doing a curt nod to the explosion hero who just narrowed his eyes on her. You blinked, “Patch...You up?” Your eyes searched for any signs of severity. “There are nurses out there who could help you with that in the emergency room.”

He clicks his tongue, “Those extras are too busy gossiping shit that I don’t give a fuck about. M’ not boutta turn this hospital upside down just to look for one when I can just go to you,” he grunted, sitting down on the chair where Miyano once sat, “You gonna do your job or not?”

“Might as well,” you sighed, putting on your disposable gloves as Dynamight scrutinized your office. He noticed the quirky collectible is perched underneath your monitor, and scattered papers on the desk. A picture of your family on a shelf, another ridiculous collectible next to it, and a mini pot for a plastic plant; Your office breathes personality in a subtle way—a glimpse of you outside of your occupation. But, out of everything he saw, one stood out: Melatonin pills.

“You take melatonin?”

“Uhh yeah, trouble sleeping,” you point at the wound, “this is not even severe.”

There was a beat of silence before he responded, “Not gonna rest without knowing it’s not gonna cause a damn headache. Severe or not,” he rasps, taking in the bags under your eyes, a misplaced strand of hair, slouched shoulders, fingernails getting shorter—you’re stressed.

You grabbed the first aid kit on top of your office storage file, used a cotton swab to get the ointment, and swabbed it gently on his bicep.

“Did Icyhot visit you?” Your hand stilled, eyes flickering to his, “Icy…hot?”

His eye twitched, “Who the fuck has ice and fire quirk?” “How the hell would I know that you call Todoroki that?” you retort, throwing the cotton bud to the trash bin, but it didn’t land, side-eyeing the man who just smirked.

“Common sense.”

You picked up the cotton bud and threw it in the trash. “Yeah, whatever, Dynamight. He messaged me earlier that he won’t be able to come, so he’ll just drop by tomorrow afternoon.”

“It’s Bakugo.” The atmosphere was still that you could hear a pin drop. You looked at him as if he had grown another head. “Listen here…Bakugo,” you say his name slowly and carefully. It rolled off your tongue right, but you shoved this thought down in the depths of your subconscious. Those crimson eyes that are always indifferent and calculating are now replaced with something else, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint the what about it is different for the life of you. “What happened to the saying, ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you?’. I’m the one patching you up. You know I could’ve just said no and made your life miserable over some minor wound.” You raise a brow, gloved hand on your hip.

He snorted out a laugh, “You already patched me up, though.”

“Just saying, smartass.”

That interaction sticks with you more than you’d like to admit, creeping back whenever the night turns quiet. You end up lying there, shooting death glares at the ceiling like it’s the one that planted those looming thoughts in your head. Hell, it got to a point where it spills whenever you’re taking breaks from work. “It’s just the bare minimum. Chill the fuck out,” you grumbled, rubbing your temple, blue refractor glasses slowly slipping to the bridge of your nose as you’re deciphering another image. He only told you to call him by his name. It’s never that serious, so what difference does it make? You let out a sigh you didn’t know you had, clicking save on a spreadsheet filled with numbers of thresholds of a liver.

“Crime rates had plummeted, but we cannot be complacent,” the serious newscaster’s voice on the flat screen engulfed in your condo’s living room. “There has been an uptick in people pursuing healthcare, and growing problems within the system that affect everyone,” it panned to a brief report about it, grabbing your attention. It brought up how society has heroes who save lives, but it could only go to such an extent—the pro-heroes can’t save the sick.

“The health department launched a new sector that’s as important as the hero sector, the Medical Unit,” the reporter says, as the camera shifts to the head doctor of Japan’s health department, Dr. Charlie Hong, who briefly talks about the medical unit and its importance. In addition, he also introduced three representatives, disclosing names—You, Dr. Kim, and Dr. Yuna—for the media. This earned you a string of multiple congratulatory messages from friends and family, international and local. The reporter beams, “We call these three capable women Charlie’s Angels!”

“Great, now we gotta deal with the public,” you grumbled, sipping on hot tea that Yaoyorozu recommended before bedtime. You suppose it’s for a good cause, easing the general public’s growing concerns about the healthcare system, further improving it, but at the same time, it’s a flame to a moth—not the good moths, that’s for sure.

“Charlie’s Angels? Really?” You scoffed.

“Oh, come on! It’s fun! Maboromicamie told me that it’s ‘cunt’, which is a great thing!” Kim mused, “It definitely makes us less intimidating to the public and more warm.”

Yuna merely responded while the three of you walked briskly down the wide corridor that led to the conference room, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The hallway is lined with tall, frosted-glass windows that let in soft natural light, casting long shadows across the muted gray carpet runners. Potted plants in modern ceramic planters stand at even intervals, giving the space a touch of greenery amid the cool, professional palette. A distant hum of conversation grows louder as the women approach the conference room doors, which stand open beneath a bold banner marked “Medical Unit.”

You paused right outside the door. “Is something wrong?” Yuna asked, her bangled hand on the door handle. “We can let the PR team know that we’ll be running a little late?” Kim suggests, smiling softly, but that doesn’t erase her growing concern.

The entire press is there, practically salivating for inside scoops, new information, and possibly trying to exploit blind spots to weave a false narrative that could divide public opinion for the sake of views. For all your confidence and bravado, your heart started to race, a slight tremor on your hand, but you shut it down before it could get worse. Focus. You stared at Yuna and Kim, “S’ fine. Just preparing for a quick little 3-second breather before we crush this thing.”

“That’s the spirit!” Kim beams, “We can do this!” raising her fist in the air. Yuna opened the door, and the three of you were met with flashing lights, just beyond, rows of chairs and a long panel table awaited, lit by overhead spotlights that shone down from the high, grid-like ceiling. People watched as you three made your way to your seats at the front, the mic placed on the table in front of your faces, you mastered the art of concealing. After all, showing any doubt, even just a fraction, will lead to a negative outcome, especially when you’re a representative in the Medical Unit. Needless to say, it was chaotic, you tried not to blink too much from the camera flashes so that they won’t release a damn picture of you with your eyes closed and a demeaning caption on it. Worse, become an internet sensation for the wrong reason.

“Good work, our lovely doctors!” The PR manager cheered, reading the public forums on the tablet. It honestly felt like the three of you are just mere celebrities who got famous overnight, and not physicians who work through the bone. “Up next, a meeting with the Prime Minister of Japan at 首相官邸 (Prime Minister’s Office). Our schedule is packed for the week ahead! Now let’s go go go!!!”

When you're busy, time flies by, you rarely have the time for yourself, solely focused on work. You looked out of the window of your humble home, the moon nowhere to be seen; stars hidden by the clouds. A subtle mist from an essential oil diffuser gently wafts through the air, filling the space with calming notes of lavender and eucalyptus that relax the mind and body. You always tout yourself as a strong individual, raised by strong-willed parents, and the unbreakable under pressure.

But sometimes? There’s a fraction in your heart that aches for you to let your guard down—an inner voice that wants you to fully experience what it feels like to break out of your skin-tethered iron armor you’re always adorned with; where you don’t have to be strong all the damn time; where you can sit on a bench without thinking about your responsibilities. Even though you give time for yourself, you still feel restless. It's an itch that no matter how much you scratch it or apply a massive amount of itch cream, it will always be prominent.

You glanced at the sentence you wrote in your journal notebook: If not now, when?

Uncremeniously, a tear slowly trails down your cheek, but you wipe it away with haste, “I’d better head to sleep. Tomorrow’s the last day of this damn public shit and I can finally rest on Saturday or maybe hone my quirk fighting skills and self-defense at the gym or something.”

The following evening, you’re at a pro-hero meeting as the only physician since Kim and Yuna are tasked with different things, respectively, with an energy drink in hand because coffee’s just not doing you justice for the past few days. It wasn’t overlooked that you downed three fucking energy drinks. It also didn’t help that you’re being wrung out by question after question, which you delivered to the best of your abilities, of course.

Maboromicamie’s compliment from three days ago infiltrated your inner thoughts, “Babes, you’re so in your boss bitch era.” I mean, hey! She’s not wrong, though, you smirked at the thought. While Hatsume spoke of logistics, typical hero stuff, your phone vibrated, and you felt your heart sink as you briefly read the message…

Kim (Medical Unit): They ran out of your favorite snack. Sorry girl :[

Are you fucking kidding me?! Your hands tightened around your phone, and the urge to lash out pulses through your veins. You sent a message back:

YOU: What the hell do you mean that it’s fucking out?!?! The clerk told me literally two days ago that they’re restocking? WTF.

It’s as if everything—stress, fatigue, and disappointment—collapses all at once, a tidal wave crashing down with no warning or mercy. Logic slips away, replaced by a raw, desperate need to break free from the suffocating pressure, even if it means losing control. You felt your head heat up, and a tension headache began to form. This was the final thread to your overworked self, but you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

“Doc?” Hatsume’s voice yanked you back from hell, jolting you out of your haze.

….everyone is staring. The air feels thick, the silence heavier than before. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked on you, expectant and curious. The room feels suddenly smaller, the weight of all those gazes crushing, caught in a spotlight where you either want to vanish or hold yourself together. The crash you’d been fleeing now feels all the closer, but for a moment, you’re forced to stay grounded—visible, exposed, and completely on display.

“Ah, right, can you repeat what you were saying? I didn’t quite catch that.” you chalked up some stupid ass excuse. You were honestly glad that they didn’t press further, or you were going to drop a damn nuke on this building. Eventually, the meeting wraps up, your social battery flatlines, and all you want to do is take melatonin and sleep like a baby. You only gave a quick nod to whoever was nearby, a brisk pace, back straight, head high as if you’re not at the seams.

Typically, you’d just leave through the main doors of Todoroki’s agency like a normal person, but tonight, something gnaws at you to exit in the parking lot—to take a brief detour. Or maybe, just maybe, the need to be alone without having to explain. You took the side hallway, pushing the door open into the parking lot instead.

The night air hit differently here—cooler, heavier. The parking lot stretched out before you, mostly empty, bathed in the dull amber of flickering lights. There were no cars; It was nothing but short of a liminal space. You walked slower, footsteps sounding louder than they should.

You have a different kind of tiredness that seeps past muscle and bone, down into the center of who you are. It was nearly empty, quiet in that strange, echoing way that only late nights can hold.

The silence makes way for your thoughts to barge in unwelcome. The next thing you know, the breath you thought you had under control caught in your throat. Shoulders shook, eye stinging, now in a troubled fetal position by the cemented railing, the fabric at your arm clings, wet with tears you hadn’t meant to shed. Those tears that poured out of nowhere and everywhere all at once.

No one saw. Just the night. Just the silence. Just the parking lot…..

“I-i’m sorry. I know you w-wanted to go home...,” you sniffled, hugging yourself, to comfort yourself. You’re used to it, “I-im strong and i-independent..I can handle it.” Fresh tears trail down your cheeks as you sob, “I-i’ll go home..I just need the strength to pull through again.” You kept talking to yourself, giving words of affirmation and reassurance. You know you’ll pull through, “I-i can’t—” you sniffled, “I can’t show this. You know this…crying is a weak—”

“.....you’re not weak for crying.” That familiar gruff voice echoes in the parking lot, and you catch a glimpse of heavy boots in front of you.

You went still, controlling your shaky breath forcibly. To be honest, you don’t know who to fucking slap, you choosing to be a fucking drama queen by walking down the parking lot like you’re in some telenovela or the damn universe for sending the last person you don’t want to witness you at this state. “M’ just tired, so I chose to do this. I’ll be back up in a jiff.”

“Bullshit. You think I didn’t fuckin’ hear you crying at my agency’s parking lot? Or the fact that you downed three fuckin’ energy drinks like that shit won’t fuck up your system?” Bakugo’s way of words is unappealing, but his tone is different. You recognized it immediately—it’s something you also do to people you care about. He’s worried, but is too proud to show it.

For the first time, you have nothing to retort. “I..well—”

“Where do you live?”

With that, you whipped your head upwards at him, red-eyed and flabbergasted. Did he just..? His strong physique blocks the light behind him, casting a shadow. It’s like being saved by some guardian angel, except he’s a pain in the ass. He didn’t respond quickly, looking at you, too, taking in your deflated state. It stayed like this for a beat.

He finally speaks, voice now calm and even, “M’ taking you home.”

Your eyes grew wider, and you stood up fast, your professional attire uncrinkling, wiping away the last remnants of your tears, “No! It’s okay. I can walk home. I can handle myself. The train is five minutes away from the agency. It’s logical to walk there.”

“Walk? At this fucking time? None of the shit you just said is logical. I’ll drive you home—” You try to argue, “I said—”

“Don’t be fucking stubborn, caffeine.”

“Caffeine?! I have a fucking name, dumbass! I just..! Urgh!” You facepalmed, eyes darting at anything but him, “I don’t want to ask for help and be bothersome...” your voice softening just a fraction at the vulnerability.

“Askin’ for help is not being a burden…If you don’t wanna go, then fuckin’ don’t, but don’t act like I didn’t offer.” He walks past you, hands in his pockets, leaving you there standing. He’s right, though…you’re an easy target because you’re a woman and a civilian.

“....wait!” You jog to the man, “Fine! I’ll..I’ll come with you! Just—slow down and walk with me side by side.” You absolutely did not mean to say the last bit, and you expected him to ignore that comment, but instead, he actually stopped and let you catch up to him, until you were both walking side by side on the way to his sleek black sports car—the only car left.

Neither of you spoke as he opened the front passenger’s seat before entering the driver’s seat. You peek behind you, seeing a big ass crash cushion on the backseat. You want to ask, but you’re too fucking tired, just settling with the assumption that it’s for pro-hero shit. He asked for your address before starting the engine, driving off.

The car stops at a red light, “Dyna—I mean—Bakugo..” You look out the window, it’s quiet, but comfortable silence engulfs you both, “thanks for you know…being there,” truth be told, you’re appreciative that he didn’t hover or smother you with pity; instead, he stayed steady—an anchor in that moment. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m weak or anything.” He keeps his eyes on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, “S’ impossible for someone to always have their shit together,” he rasps, “one way or the other, you’re bound to feel overwhelmed. It’s not a weakness to let your guard down when it happens. Hell, that’s real strength.” Bakugo’s voice was contemplative and grounding.

“Didn’t peg you as a guy who’d offer wisdom,” you snarked, a flush of warmth blooming in your chest, “..thanks.”

He just grunts in response, and a restful silence settles between you. You glance out the window again, drinking in the stillness of the empty street and the hush that blankets the city. There’s something about the steady hum of the engine, the faint, pleasant scent of his car, and the way he drives that makes your eyelids grow heavy.

You shifted more comfortably, the tension easing from your shoulders. Your expensive leather handbag sat on your lap as your head rested against the car’s side pillar, right where the seatbelt is anchored.

Throughout the ride, he doesn’t say much, just keeps his hand steady on the wheel. Somehow, that’s enough. For the first time, melatonin isn’t part of your night. And as your eyes close, the world outside feels less heavy.

Taglist: @azzo0 , @paradoliaa , @haruesme

#katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #pro hero bakugou #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bhna x reader #fanfic x reader #fanfic #post chapter 431 #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha bakugo x reader #all my homies love slowburn

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honeywyrdie · 3 months ago

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Sangiovese Cellar {4}

Bang Chan x Reader

genre: slow burn, angst, eventual smut warnings: vampires, cults, blood, host club, [[more tags to be added as story progresses]] {masterlist}

Synopsis: You ran straight into his arms, what else was he supposed to do but catch you?

a/n: Hello my little blood drops! I passed my big comprehensive exam for my masters degree and I don't know how to feel yet! But you're all in luck, I put all that energy into getting this new chapter out :3 This has been the one source of distraction and dopamine production that my brain needs. 🫀

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this on tumblr and on AO3- user: honeywyrdie

Wide, wet eyes stare at him. The face those wide eyes are attached to is frozen in fear, streaked with running mascara. Christopher feels the way your breathing is light and fast, your body shaking with the spasms of what appears to be a panic attack. A surge of an intense protective emotion rocks through his body, ready to shield you from whatever it is you’re running from. He looks up, wildly scanning the room for whatever the threat may be.

The eyes of a few hundred vampires are locked on the frightened girl he’s holding. The only movement in the room is another human coming towards them, slowing her jog as she approaches.

“Y/n! Are you okay?!” There’s panic in her voice as her hands automatically move to pull your body away from him.

Y/n.

Christopher reels back slightly. His gloved hands pull your body into his chest further, cradling your head into his chin.

Mistake.

Your scent singes his nose, a heady combination of sweet citrus and spice. A murky memory from his human life, something Christopher likes to keep under tight control, is drawn to the surface of his mind. He can almost remember the taste of the mulled cider he had as a child, an impression of a crisp autumn night pulls at his heart. He leans back, focusing on your face as a strange, bittersweet chord plucks away in his ribcage.

Your brow pinches in the middle, confusion morphing into dawning recognition.

“…Christopher?” you ask in a weak voice.

What?

That’s when he smells it.

Iron - the unmistakable metallic scent hiding beneath the spiced citrus. The way iron smells when it’s flowing out of a vein, fresher than anything Christopher has had in years. Your fragrant blood sizzles in his sinuses, calling out to him like a magnet to metal.

His heart rate picks up, he can feel it throbbing in his head, the blood rushing through his veins nearly audible. Holding you in his arms, he thinks he can feel your heartbeat match his, pounding out the same staccato rhythm.

It feels like he’s been hit by lightning, all of his other senses are heightened. His nostrils flare, his teeth grind together as his mouth fills with saliva. His face blooms with heat, a thin layer of sweat beading up on his forehead. The edges of his vision start to blur, zeroing in on your neck. When his fangs start to ache, he’s overcome by the irresistible urge to sink them right into your carotid artery.

{continue reading on Ao3}

taglist: @tirena1 @hwangjoanna [reply to this post if you’d like to join the taglist 💘]

#bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #sangiovese cellar

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lotusfueltofire · 12 days ago

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Dragon Age: Rook Combat Ask • Angel de Riva (Rogue)

Tagged by the amazing @casa-dei-corvei - please go read about her Rook Sancha de Riva here!

Rules: List some weapons/tools or fighting styles you imagine apply to your OC. In or outside of game animation! No holds barred! Daydream AMV descriptions welcome! Show me how badass your OC is and how they've used this in the past. Feel free to drop an ask for any certain listing to ask about context or request a snippet to flex your action writing muscles!

Proficiencies 🪄🗡️☠️

Poison (Viago taught him almost everything he knows about poison, compounds, and how to inflict those poisons in contracts)

Rapier (the one below was gifted by Lucanis) and Dagger (he leaves the dagger Viago gave him at the Lighthouse)

And I suppose leather armor?

He also has an enchanted crow charm to stop the tremor in his right hand

He'll throw punches if needed, but he'd much rather fight with weapons

Bow and Arrow (Harding taught him a lot of tricks)

Here's a snippet of how my Rook fights with bow and arrow:

They stood in front of the Opera House, its grand facade now a fortress, with a cluster of Venatori positioned at every possible choke point - on balconies, behind columns, posted at the wide marble steps. Bellara said nothing, her expression carved in adorable concentration, her bow in hand as her eyes flicked from threat to threat with hesitation.

Lucanis, however, wasn’t as composed.

“That’s a lot of Venatori,” he murmured, unease threading through his voice.

“Watch me,” Rook replied, already unshouldering his flowery bow with a cocky smile. He plucked the first arrow from his quiver with fluid familiarity. “Harding taught me a few tricks.”

Before the last word left his mouth, the first target stepped into view.

Rook moved like water, smoothly, instinctively.

Draw.

Release.

The arrow cut through the air in a perfect arc, striking the first Venatori’s skull dead center. The body dropped without ceremony, with a small muted thud.

Rook didn’t pause - another arrow was nocked, drawn, loosed. Then another. Then another.

The rhythm took him - the snap of the string, the quiet gasp of air, the weight of the bow in his hands. It became a dance. No hesitation. No misstep. The world narrowed to the whisper of feathered arrows and the sound of bodies crumpling to the blood-slicked stone.

One. Two. Five. Ten. Thirteen.

Then stillness in the courtyard, only the wind stirring insistently. A feather from one of his arrows floated gently to the ground, catching the light like an afterthought. Rook exhaled slowly, lowering his bow. Every Venatori laid motionless, a shaft protruding from some vital point.

He turned, pride blooming on his face like a wicked little turn - like a Crow shuffling his feathers, smug and sharp-eyed, fully aware of how good he looked mid-kill. Basking in the aftermath like it was his stage, and the corpses were applause.

“Venatori are no more,” he said, breathless but steady.

Lucanis was looking at him through it all - not startled, not quite impressed, but something deeper. There was a flicker in his expression, almost like someone watching a star go nova. Not admiration. Recognition.

“Told you to watch me,” Rook added, eyes gleaming.

Lucanis tilted his head slowly, brows drawn as though reevaluating a puzzle he thought he already solved. He was quiet for a moment.

Then, finally, a small nod. “I did,” he said. His voice was low, serious now. “And I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you again.”

Not Proficient ⚔️

I guess I can say magic, since my Rook is not a mage

Longswords, Axes, Shields, Heaters, Targes, Mauls, Great Axes

Orbs, Arcane Orbs, Elemental Orbs, Mageknives, Spellblades, Staves

Basically any weapon that's not a Rogue weapon

Improvised 🧣

Salt shaker to make a more consistent punch/fist

Chair (??)

Door (????)

My Rook is really good at close quarters, but he'll also keep his distance, if needed, with his bow and arrow. He likes to do flourishes and trick shots, both with melee and ranged weapons. Viago would spar with him here and there, but it wasn't often - other teachers or fledglings taught him how to fight. Viago was more interested in showing Angel how to weaken or kill a target with poison.

Of course that weakening a target makes it that much easier to slide the dagger/knife in - and sometimes, that is needed, depending on your opponent. My Rook also knows ways of manipulating the blood splatter from a kill, taught from Viago - be it for a dramatic flair or an intent/purpose.

Soft tagging: @apothe-cary @styxdysnomia @crushedv3lv3t @styxdysnomia @vixenofcadmea @kindlyfeline @waxlyricalmoon @kai-dimir @starlightchaser @handsignals @curiouswisp @beachhotdog

#dragon age: the veilguard #oc: angel de riva #trans male rook #trans rook #male rook #antidote au #my writing

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whatiswhump · 5 months ago

Note

does Harris actually believe Alfred killed Del?

Screaming crying throwing up. Thanks for this ask.

Tag list at the end, plz let me know if I forgot you or you want to be added.

Masterpost

—-

Dr. Harris likes schedules. He always has. There was a joke in his family that as a toddler he asked his mother for the “agenda” every morning.

So this morning follows like every other, he dressed, ate a brief breakfast with the family. His son was cramming for a test at the table and he admonished him for it. It didn’t do to prepare last second. The brain did not retain memory effectively that way (unless it was trauma of course). Then he left early enough to reach the hospital for morning rounds.

Alfred had been more… himself- lately. And against his better judgement, he was indulging it. He liked the way the young man thought, the way he responded to the world around him… Dr. Harris supposed it was as simple as that. He did just like him. He was a sensitive person- honestly too sensitive, and it had been destructive and catastrophic for him… but Harris appreciated his delicacy… Few had it.

Usually delicate people wilted like tissue paper in rain and were crushed and mangled into something pathetic without anyone even trying. Harris helped these people every day as they filtered through the hospital, the dregs of society. Really the only thing for them was to pacify them and then allow them to live a duller existence. A part of the profession he endured for the more intellectually stimulating cases that came on rare occasions.

But Alfred was a different kind of delicate. He bent and twist nearly out of recognition at times but he didn’t actually break. And he stayed oddly resolute and himself. Harris couldn’t fully explain it if he tried but he treasured that spark in Alfred.

So yes, it was an indulgence, allowing the young man to gain a streak of strength… as he was quite sure this was what that was… but it was just so… intriguing to see that little flame keep fighting despite all the reasons it shouldn’t.

“Good morning Alfie- time to wake up. Up you go. Come on honey-”

The dazed young man did not fight the two orderlies that neatly scooped him out of his bed while the nurse spoke. He was too used to this.

Dr. Harris stepped aside from his post at the door for the patient to the ported through.

“Alfred, we have a rolling stretcher for you, are we going to put you on it or are you going to walk?”

Blearily, clearly only partially conscious, Alfred responded, “Walk- please-”

One of Harris eyebrows raised minutely as tried to conceal a smirk. There it was… even if cloaked in sleep and sedation.

The orderlies carried more than walked their patient as Harris trailed. Harris knew the orderlies and nurses never liked to be closely observed but he didn’t mind the prickling discomfort of his underlings, he was observing Alfred this morning. An extended clinical observation was well within the norm and his role so he didn’t mind at all.

When they arrived at the treatment room no one asked the young patient to climb onto the padded table, they simply lifted him up. Alfie was more awake by now but he knew better than to resist such an obvious eventuality. He might’ve even appreciated the help.

Although in moments like this he was beyond the niceties with orderlies by now, no more mumbled thank you’s or pleases in the guise of manners anymore. Harris found all patients fell out of the habit of such words after a requisite number of years institutionalized, they must all have individually recognized that no one was listening and the tasks would be performed day in and day out regardless of whether they said a word their mother taught them.

It was only after he was restrained that Harris approached his favorite patient.

“Good morning, Alfred.” He rested a confident hand on Alfred’s restrained similar.

Alfred looked surprised, clearly he hadn’t noticed him observing. He tried to conceal it quickly but Harris had seen it, as he saw every thought that passed through the young man’s head.

“What are you doing to me today?” Alfred asked, clearly working to maintain a disinterested tone to distract from his jolt. Cute.

“You ask but you don’t sound like you want to know. It’s not always in my patient’s best interest to know every step of their treatment plan.”

“Don’t worry, I learned that was your strategy a long time ago. Just thought if you were planning on punishing me you would enjoy telling me why first.” Did he detect a sense of humor this morning? A bit sardonic for his taste…

“Alfred, treatment is never punishment. It is for your own good.”

“For my own good.” Alfred nodded slowly, he was awake but clearly tired.

“What did I miss?” Capshaw had arrived and as usual spoke a little too loudly and with entirely too much swaggering confidence. That could be mellowed with age Harris knew.

Alfred broke eye contact with his doctor and let his eyes slide to nothing. An interesting defense mechanism. Almost like a possum playing dead… retreating into himself. He would have to note this in his private file.

“Mr. Finch and I were speaking about his treatment plan. Now that his restraints are applied I can tell him that today we are going to treat him to his first trial of metrazol therapy.”

He didn’t look scared yet. But that was only because he didn’t know what it was yet.

… Granted it was a good thing, for many… but the side effects and procedure were undoubtedly unpleasant.

“He never speaks around me,” Capshaw replied in annoyance, “So he won’t ask what it is. Or why it is saved for only the most unwell. I don’t know why you seem to enjoy his treatments when he is so uncooperative, Doctor.”

That young doctor did know how to subtly communicate, Harris would give him that. He could see Alfred’s fists clench slowly and his eyes close. Now he was getting nervous but he was trying to keep it from showing. His heart was practically singing with response no matter how subtle was being drawn from Alfred. This is what he really loved about him after all, moments like these trying in vain to steel himself against terror…

“It’s alright, Capshaw, let’s proceed. You can administer and I will observe. Let’s titrate up with care however… don’t want any broken bones on our hands.” Alfred’s face grew whiter. Oh how he savored moments like these, indeed.

“Alright Alfred. Say night, night.” Capshaw took the syringe from the assisting nurse with chilling enthusiasm and speed to plunge it into the pinned patient. Alfred was well trained, he stayed completely still until the only thing that betrayed his sedation into sleep was the limp release of his fists.

“I was surprised we didn’t attempt this treatment sooner Dr. Harris,” Capshaw remarked while they both looked down on the unconscious young man.

Harris arched a brow good naturedly, “You, Capshaw, need to learn the art of give and take. I knew this was an option but I didn’t care to throw all of the king’s men at such an inconsequential patient in one go.”

“Inconsequential? He’s dangerous. He's a murderer and deeply deluded, one of the worst of those delusions being that he hasn’t killed. That’s certainly dangerous.”

Oh yes. Capshaw really thought Alfred was indeed the murderer? That was amusing. Harris had known the judicial system had made a mistake from the first hour of meeting Alfred Finch.

He would not be the man to correct the rest of the world however. He would just work with what he had.

He sighed with a smile, “He may be dangerous out on the streets, but he will never be in this institution, I can guarantee you of that. Frankly I doubt these treatments will cure him but I think they are a good reminder for him of our capabilities and our control. That is how we keep patients safe, Capshaw, boundaries, clear and defined.”

Capshaw nodded as he picked up the next syringe on the tray, “I suppose you’re right, none of these treatments have really done anything to his delusions. But I suppose that’s also why he will never be released.”

Harris attempted a serious expression at the solemn thought. “Some souls were never intended to have freedom. I’ve believed for a long time that patients like him will be happier to live their lives in the protection and guidance of an institution.”

Capshaw injected a portion of the metrazol.

“Nurse, steady his head now when the seizures start.” Harris instructed as hints of twitching and pain flickered across the unconscious young man’s face and without looking away said, “I do know he is certainly going to fight us the next time we bring him in for this...”

And then the convulsing started in earnest.

@cursedscribbles @voidwhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog -whump-side-blog @aliceinwhumperland @whump-it @professional-idiocy @ziptiewhump @angrystudentgoopfire @jaxonjekkels @clubbem @simplygrimly @whole-and-apart-and-between @bumpthumpwhump @rosesareviolentlyread @whumpasaurus101 @hurting-fictional-people @burtlederp @thelittlegirlwithcurlyhair @crystalquartzwhump @rotfern @sentientpileofmoss

#whump #mine #psychiatric whump #psych whump #whump prompt #whumpee #forced drugging #alfie #alfie finch #dr. harris #dr Harris’s perspective #capshaw #he’s just a prick #and just exists to be a one dimensional prick

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allywritesmanythings · 1 year ago

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A Marriage in Convenience Part 2 (R. Danaan)

Part 1

Summary: You and Ruhn are forced to marry each other

Words: 1.2k

Requested: Yes by @elle4404

Tags: @fides25 @mirandasidefics

Warnings or A/N: I added the reader helping out the orphanage just to add on what type of person the reader is.

The past week had been a relentless storm of wedding preparations. From agonizing over table covers to meticulously selecting flowers and enduring countless cake tastings, your patience was worn to a thin, frayed thread. The thought of having to decide on the food was enough to make your head spin. You and Ruhn, it seemed, had diametrically opposed tastes in absolutely everything. It wasn't for lack of trying to find common ground; every attempt at compromise felt like trying to mix oil and water. And if you had to endure one more of Tristan’s crude innuendos, you were certain you'd scream. Declan, thankfully, had been the only one spared from your growing annoyance.

With arms laden with bags overflowing with toys and essential supplies, you and Felix stood in the unassuming reception area of the Fae orphanage. A kind-faced Fae woman, dressed in a practical pantsuit and a touch taller than you, stepped forward with a warm smile. "Hello, I'm Jules, the director," she greeted, extending a hand.

"Hi, I'm (Name)," you replied, shaking her hand firmly. "I wanted to donate some toys and essentials. I heard you were in need."

Jules’s eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "Yes, we would love to accept the donation! Just leave them with the secretary, and we’ll make sure they’re distributed to the children."

Just then, one of the orphanage workers, a young woman with bright eyes, approached, her arms full. "Miss (Name), where should we put all of it?"

Jules’s brow furrowed slightly. "All of it?" she echoed, clearly surprised by the sheer volume.

The worker beamed. "Oh! This isn't all of it. There's a truckload coming!"

"A tru—truckload?" Jules stammered, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yes, ma'am. The Princess here wants to make sure all the kids have everything they need," Felix explained, his voice even and steady.

The worker gasped, her gaze snapping to you. “You’re the princess who is set to marry Prince Ruhn!” she exclaimed, recognition dawning.

You nodded, a small, polite smile on your face. “Yes, but please just call me (Name). I’m just here to ensure that the kids get what they need and want. So, where should we set up?”

The worker immediately became practical. “Oh, definitely the auditorium. It's the biggest room in the orphanage, and you can bring the gifts in through the back doors so the kids won’t see, if you want to surprise them.” A smile touched your lips. A surprise it would be.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After the overwhelming but rewarding task of setting up the donations at the orphanage, you gave instructions to the workers to inform the children about the source of the gifts however they saw fit. Receiving credit was irrelevant; your only concern was ensuring the children had what they needed and were truly happy.

Felix smoothly pulled the car up in front of Ruhn's mother's villa and parked. Despite your marriage being purely for political optics, Ruhn had been surprisingly eager for you to meet his mother.

Felix opened your car door, and you took a deep, fortifying breath before stepping out and walking towards the front door. After a few moments, the door finally opened, revealing Ruhn, a distinct air of annoyance clinging to him. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago," he grumbled, his voice laced with irritation.

"I was actually doing something productive," you retorted, a sardonic edge to your tone.

"What? Fucking another male you met at White Raven?" Ruhn shot back, his voice sharp with a hint of something unidentifiable.

You chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "I haven't fucked anyone from the club."

"Then who have you been with? I can see the marks on your neck," he pressed, his gaze sweeping over you.

"I'm sorry, but that's none of your concern," you stated, your voice firm. "The person I choose to have between my legs is off-limits to you. Our marriage is purely for political reasons and the benefits it brings to our kingdoms. That's all."

Ruhn sighed, a frustrated sound, and moved aside, allowing you to enter the elegant home. Felix followed closely behind, and you heard the door click shut as Ruhn’s voice sounded from behind him. "Go straight down the hallway."

As you walked down the corridor, your gaze drifted to the photographs adorning the walls. There were images of Ruhn as a child, others with Ruhn and his mother, and some of Ruhn alongside a young girl who bore a striking resemblance to him, clearly his sister. His mother, in every picture, was undeniably stunning. It was no surprise the Autumn King had taken notice of her.

You continued down the hallway until it opened into a spacious, inviting room. A plush couch, a comfortable recliner, a sturdy coffee table, a large TV, and a cozy fireplace, surrounded by various knick-knacks, gave the place a wonderfully cozy atmosphere. A genuine smile touched your lips as you compared this welcoming living room to the cold, echoing mansion you still called home. No matter how much you tried, your home never exuded the warmth and comfort that this house did. It dawned on you that your mansion was simply a building, not a true home.

“Oh! Hi!” a soft, warm voice greeted you from behind. You turned to face her, and your breath hitched. "You must be (Name). I'm Lorin."

You were immediately struck by her ethereal beauty. There was a certain softness in her features, a delicate grace that set her apart from other Fae you had encountered. Her blue eyes, a mirror of Ruhn's own, held a gentle kindness, and her silky black hair framed her face flawlessly, adding to her allure. In that moment, a silent thought crossed your mind: if you and Ruhn were to have children, you hoped they would inherit more of Lorin's traits than the Autumn King's.

You extended your hand towards her, a genuine smile replacing your earlier strained one. "Yes, that's me. I apologize, but you are truly stunning."

Lorin’s laugh was like wind chimes. “Oh my Gods. I was thinking the same!”

“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a genuine connection with this woman.

Her gaze shifted to Felix, who stood discreetly behind you. “Is that the man accompanying you your bodyguard?”

You glanced at Felix and touched his shoulder lightly. “Yes, this is Felix.”

Lorin then looked at Ruhn, who had just entered the room, his expression still a little surly. “Your father made a great choice,” she commented, a subtle hint of approval in her voice.

Ruhn simply nodded, offering no further comment, and settled onto the couch with a sigh.

“Aren’t you going to offer her a drink or snack?” his mother chided gently.

“Do you want anything?” Ruhn inquired, his tone flat.

You were about to decline when the enticing aroma of chicken, sausage, garlic, and other delicious ingredients wafted from the kitchen, causing your stomach to emit a rather unladylike growl. "The smell of whatever you're cooking is absolutely mouthwatering," you admitted, a genuine smile gracing your lips.

Lorin chuckled warmly. She revealed that it was chicken and sausage gumbo, spiced with smoked paprika, garlic powder, mustard powder, and cayenne. She then asked if you had any allergies.

You shook your head, your stomach rumbling again. "Nope."

She then offered you some of the delicious meal. “Yes, please,” you enthusiastically accepted, your earlier annoyance forgotten.

Lorin smiled warmly and motioned for you and Felix to follow her into the kitchen. Catching a glance at Felix, she asked, "Do you want some too?"

Felix hesitated, his usual formality taking over. “No, ma’am. I don’t want to—”

Lorin interrupted him firmly, a gentle but resolute tone in her voice. "Nonsense. You are protecting my future daughter-in-law. That means I am going to make sure you are going to eat and don’t leave my home hungry."

With a grateful nod, Felix replied, "Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled at Felix, and he returned the gesture, a rare, softer look in his eyes. It was heartwarming to see someone treating Felix as more than just your bodyguard, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards Lorin.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Later that night, as you swayed to the pulsing music at the White Raven club, Felix stood watch from a distance, a steadfast guardian amidst the swirling crowd. Suddenly, you felt hands on your waist, and you turned to see Ruhn, his expression unreadable. “You really think I can’t smell Felix on you?” he murmured, his voice hushed by the loud music, shielding your conversation from prying ears.

You knew that pushing him off would only attract unwanted attention and potentially lead to more trouble. Instead, you took his hands and, with a knowing look, placed them on your midsection, subtly guiding his movements as you continued to dance with him. “You really think I can’t smell all the females on you?” you retorted, your voice a low, teasing whisper.

Ruhn remained silent, his jaw clenching.

“Do you even know who they are? Can you name at least one? I know Felix’s name, at least.”

With a frustrated groan, Ruhn angrily pushed past you and stalked off into the crowd. You shrugged, a faint chuckle escaping your lips, then turned and pulled Felix onto the dance floor, ignoring the curious glances.

Fuck what others think.

#ruhn danaan x you #ruhn danaan fic #prince ruhn #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn danaan #house of sky and breath #house of flame and shadow #house of earth and blood #acotar #sjm

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luxesocietyextras · 5 months ago

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This particular meme will run from March 17th - March 23rd. Just because the meme ends then, that doesn't mean you're not still able to answer any questions you might still have remaining in your inbox. Feel free to answer in your own time.

Just before we all get stuck in, there are a few ground rules. Please, turn on your inbox. Once you have reblogged the meme, your celebrities name will be added to a list below the cut. All of the celebrities who are tagged must receive questions from you! Please be sure to send questions to every other member who is participating. You can reblog on as many of your muses as you would like to, but if you do this, you must send out the same amount of questions as the same amount of muses you have reblogged the meme on to keep the ratio even (so if you reblog on four, you must send four to each member). Please don't ignore your threads and just focus on the meme. While writing for the meme will contribute as activity, threads and communication with other members are vital to keep the group running. Posting the meme isn't enough to ensure your safety from an activity check.

MEME: WOULD YOU RATHER

Send an emoji/series of emojis for my muse to answer any of the following questions in character.

🎬 Would you rather have your favorite actor play you in a movie but it’s totally inaccurate, or have a perfectly accurate movie with an actor you despise?

📱 Would you rather lose access to all social media for a year or have every post you’ve ever made resurface?

🎤 Would you rather sing karaoke in front of thousands or give a speech on live TV with no preparation?

🍕 Would you rather eat only your least favorite food for a week or give up your favorite food for a year?

✈️ Would you rather travel anywhere for free but never stay longer than 24 hours, or have one dream vacation for a month but never travel again?

🕶️ Would you rather be completely invisible for one day or be able to read minds for an hour?

🏆 Would you rather win a major award for something you didn’t actually do or never receive recognition for something amazing you did?

🕰️ Would you rather time travel to meet your ancestors or your future great-grandchildren?

🎶 Would you rather only listen to one song forever or never hear your favorite song again?

💬 Would you rather have all your private messages accidentally sent to your management or to your parents?

📸 Would you rather have a perfect selfie but a terrible group photo or a great group photo but an embarrassing selfie?

🎭 Would you rather always have to fake laugh at bad jokes or never be able to laugh at all?

🍔 Would you rather give up fast food forever or only be able to eat fast food?

💰 Would you rather get $1,000 every time you post something cringey online or never make above minimum wage?

🏝️ Would you rather be stranded on an island with your worst enemy and have unlimited food or by yourself but have no food supply?

🕵️‍♂️ Would you rather have the ability to know when someone is lying or always be able to get away with lying?

⏳ Would you rather have an extra hour every day but always be tired, or sleep perfectly but have one hour less in the day?

📖 Would you rather have a best-selling book about your life but everyone thinks it's fiction, or have an unknown book that only the right people appreciate?

🔥 Would you rather gain fame for something embarrassing or never be famous but be respected in your field?

🍷 Would you rather drink your favorite beverage forever but never get to try new ones or always have new drinks but never your favorite?

🎮 Would you rather be stuck in your favorite video game but as a side character, or a main character in a boring game?

🚀 Would you rather explore space but never return to Earth, or explore the deep ocean but never go above sea level again?

🏀 Would you rather be the worst player on a championship-winning team or the best player on a losing team?

🛑 Would you rather always be stuck at red lights when driving but no traffic or always have a green lights and be stuck behind a slow driver?

👗 Would you rather only wear outfits you hate but be extremely comfortable or always dress super fashionable and never be comfortable again?

Members participating:

Tom Holland | @thomasstanley

Kelsea Ballerini | @kclseaballerini

Olivia Holt | @oholt

E.R. Fightmaster | @erfightmastcr

Lili Reinhart | @luxelilir

Ariana Grande | @ariianagbutera

Austin Butler | @austiinrbutler

Gigi Hadid | @hadiidgigi

Hailey Baldwin | @hailsbaldwiiin

Suki Waterhouse | @sukiiiwaterhouse

Chase Stokes | @chaseluxe

Sydney Sweeney | @sydneyluxe

Madison Beer | @luxemadison

Taylor Swift | @taylorsaswlft

Jacob Elordi | @jcobelordii

Pete Davidson | @davidsnpete

Kendall Jenner | @kendalljennner

Shawn Mendes | @shvwnmndes

#luxesocietymeme

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faulty-writes · 2 years ago

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[ Okay I know I promised that I would publish a part II forever ago. But better late than never! So...this is a continuation of this request from lovely Daysans-World (Tumblr isn't letting me tag them, boo) and fair warning, this features a female reader. I hope you enjoy it. Writing Neito is fun. He’s slightly yandere, slightly preppy, and beautifully ignorant. It’s amazing. ]

You groaned, rounding the corner that led to the student housing. Leaning against a nearby tree, you catch your breath before fisting your hand into your hair. ‘What is wrong with me!? I’ve only known the guy for a day! Maybe less…’ honestly it didn’t matter.

In the short span of your time with him, he managed to get you to speak more words to him than you had anyone outside of the General Studies Department. That was strange enough, seriously what kind of power did Neito have over you?

Scratch that, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know. Yet that didn’t change the fact that you never anticipated someone like him being able to do that. Although this could be another example of the type of characteristics that can be found in heroes or maybe just in Neito.

“Y/n?” you paused and turned to see Hitoshi. He was a former general studies student who had tried his hardest to get into the hero course. You were happy for him, and he was still one of the few people that you weren’t afraid to talk to.

“Oh, hi Shinso…” you replied, giving a nervous chuckle as you lowered your hand. “Something wrong?” he asked, although his voice always sounded monotone to you. Did he ever show any emotion? Well, now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Um, n-no!” you replied, waving your hands like mad. “Uh, I mean well…” you scratched the side of your head before a thought came. “Hey,” you said, “do you know Momona?” Hitoshi’s eyes widened in recognition before he glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“...yeah,” he replied, but you sensed something was off about his answer. It was like he didn’t want to talk about it. You latched onto your lip which was beginning to feel sore. “Um, do you…do you know anything about him?” Hitoshi knitted his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” he replied, and you were almost afraid to look at him for fear you’d see suspicion in his eyes. “Just, I…” you paused, should you tell him that you agreed to let Neito be a part of your project? Maybe not. “I want to know more about him,” you said. “What?” Hitoshi replied, “Why?” he added.

“No reason just…” you shifted your eyes back and forth, trying to devise an excuse. “I think he’s cool?” you said, shrugging and hoping that Hitoshi wouldn’t be able to sense that you were lying to him. “Hm, cool huh?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Y-yes?” you replied, shrugging. He glanced away, huffing.

“He’s annoying…has no sense of personal space and is overdramatic,” at least those were the first three things that came to his mind. He noticed that your face dropped, and your eyes held a shattered look as if he had smashed some hope you had related to Neito.

He sighed. “He was also the first one that welcomed me as his friend,” your eyes widened. “R-really?” He nodded. “Guess that says something about his character, most are put off by me, but he saw strength in my abilities,” a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

You should be writing this down, then again, this information wasn’t exactly related to your project so you could let it go for now. “Thank you, Shinso!” you said politely and rushed past him before he could say anything more.

That night, thoughts of Neito clouded your mind as you lay in your bed with your heart pounding. It was a strange feeling, and you wondered what was happening. ‘Am I…happy?’ The thought seemed ridiculous, and you shook your head before turning on your side, focusing your attention on the wall.

“Ah! Mr. Aizawa ruined everything!” Neito screamed as he raised his arms above his head before entangling his hands in his hair. “Am I truly cursed to not have one peaceful moment with my dear Y/n, she’s surely the most tolerable and shyest of the creatures here at Yuuei and I want her to myself!”

He stomped his foot against the ground. “Surely no one else is worthy of caring for her!” A chuckle filled the air and he paused, looking around like mad to find the source of the noise. “Excuse you! It’s rude to eavesdrop on another’s conversation!” he snapped, continuing to look around.

“Or is it that you’re interested in Y/n as well!?” he growled, ready to fight whoever was laughing at him. “Not at all dude, but your shouting is kind of loud. I thought something was up, so I came to check out the scene!” Neito knitted his eyebrows, clearly perplexed.

“Tch and just where are you?” He asked, crossing his arms. “Look at your feet dude,” he blinked and sure enough when he looked down, he saw the face of Mirio phased through the ground and stumbled back. “You!?” he shouted in response.

“Heh, yeah,” Mirio smiled, “wait right here, I’ll be back!” With that, he disappeared once more. “The nerve of him,” Neito grumbled, tapping his foot against the ground. The sound of birds chirping in the distance and the leaves rustling surrounded him.

Beyond the tree line, he could see the sun beginning to set and the sky turning various hues of red, orange, and yellow. He frowned, his mind still lingering with thoughts of you. ‘Oh dear, what will I do to get her close to me?’ There had to be a way to crack that hard shell of yours.

“Heyo!” Neito turned, watching as Mirio approached. He scowled and his body stiffened in response, yes most would respect upperclassmen but not in this case. Not when they tried to steal you away from him. “What do you want?” He asked with a glare.

“Oh uh, heh,” Mirio noticed this but decided to be friendly regardless. “You’re the one I saw in the library earlier, right?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips, and smiling but Neito gave no response. “I’m still really sorry about that,” he said, scratching the side of his head.

“I wasn’t trying to interfere just-” he stepped back when Neito pointed his finger at him. “Just what?! How dare you interrupt my moment with Y/n,” he said with a snarl, this upperclassman was no better than Mr. Aizawa. “What else are you planning to ruin between us? Why are you even here?” he demanded.

“Uh, well you see…” he could have sworn he told him that earlier, but oh well. Maybe he just wasn’t paying attention, after all, he did kind of startle him. “I…I couldn’t help but overhear your dilemma, and I’m here to help!” he declared with a wink and smile.

Neito growled. “Help? Hah, that’s quite humorous but I don’t need any help,” he declared, turning his back on Mirio. “Are you sure?” he replied, knitting his eyebrows. “Y/n seemed pretty shy in the library and well…if there’s anything I can do to help her, let me know!” Maybe it was just hard for him to accept no as an answer.

Especially when it seemed that Neito did need his help. “After all, the best way to get to know someone is by doing nice things for them!” Neito glanced to the side, tapping his chin in thought. What did he know about you? From observing you as long as he did, he could recall a few things.

Onigiri was one of your favorite snacks, you worked hard on your academic studies but also enjoyed reading mystery novels on your own time. When you talked with other general studies students, you displayed a deep sense of care for them.

Of course, it was a mystery to him as to why you cared for others. But he wasn’t so ignorant as to completely disregard what it felt like to care for another. “Are you suggesting that if I were to give Y/n the things she likes, she would open up to me?” he asked, turning to face Mirio.

“Uh, well I think there’s more to it than that! But sure!” he said shrugging. “Hm…” Neito nodded. “Very well, I’m happy I thought of that,” he said walking past Mirio whose eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it as he watched the lowerclassmen walk away.

“Here!” Neito declared, slamming a box onto the table in the library and nearly scaring you half to death. “Huh?” you knitted your eyebrows, noting that what he so rudely slammed down was an ordinary box covered in light blue wrapping paper with colorful bows across the top of it.

“Um, y-you…” Neito smirked. “Yes of course, I, the one and only Phantom Thief have presented you with a gift,” and of course, it was better than any other gift you could receive from any other ordinary everyday boring student.

Your heart began to pound and couldn’t help but smile as you unwrapped the gift. “Oh,” you marveled when you saw several pieces of delicious and differently flavored onigiri inside. In addition, there were a few mouth-watering drinks.

You picked one up, quickly reading the label before looking at the pink-colored liquid that had bits of strawberries floating in it. However, you ended up dropping it when Neito’s hand hit the table. He seemed to ignore the fact that the bottle had rolled off said table and onto the floor.

“Yes, I know. Quite amazing, isn’t it? Now…” he reached over, grasping your chin to lift your head. “What do you say?” he asked. “Huh?” you blinked before realizing what he wanted. “Oh, t-thank you!” Had you forgotten to thank him!?

He smirked at your response. “Oh, you’re quite welcome,” he said, leering at you possessively. “Now then,” he took the seat opposite you and folded his hands on the table. “Hm?” you looked at him before taking an onigiri out of the box.

You then made sure it was closed and placed it on the floor next to your chair. You picked up the drink you had dropped earlier and placed it on the table before adjusting yourself in your seat. Then you unwrapped the onigiri you had chosen and took a bite, waiting for Neito to speak.

“I do hope Mr. Aizawa’s intrusion didn’t disturb you too much, although it was rather rude for you to run away without giving me a goodbye.” His words made you freeze, and you thought about speaking in your defense but knowing Neito, it wouldn’t make a difference.

You grumbled and glanced away before taking another bite of your food, you chewed it slowly and swallowed. “Why…” your question faded into the air making you groan in frustration. After yesterday, you shouldn’t be having a problem talking to him. You took a deep breath, ignoring how Neito leaned closer.

‘Okay, I can do this…his eyes are on me.’ You tried to ignore your rapid heart rate and flushed cheeks. “Why…d-did you…w-want to become a…he-hero?!” You exclaimed, squeezing your eyes shut and cringing as your voice echoed through the library.

“Hm?” Neito blinked, looking at you with surprise before he smiled. “Awe is my dear Y/n finally coming out of her shell?” he teased, noticing the way your cheeks grew a darker shade of red. Oh, how he loved knowing he was the cause of it.

He chuckled before leaning back in his chair, the smile fading from his face. You noticed this and suddenly felt awkward and guilty, had you caused him to get sad!? “Y-you don’t have to…u-uh, I, u-um…” he shook his head.

“No, it’s quite alright. After all, I agreed to be a part of your project, it’s only natural to want to know the past of someone as marvelous as I!” he declared, brushing his hand over his bangs although you couldn’t help but wonder if he was putting up a front.

That frown had to mean something, have you struck a nerve? A painful past? Now that you thought about it, maybe villains weren’t the only ones with a painful past. Did heroes have them too? He took a deep breath and sighed.

“As a child, I was mercilessly teased!” he declared dramatically, pressing one hand against his chest. “Others called my quirk useless,” your eyes widened. “Useless?” you repeated with a frown. How could others have said such a cruel thing to him?

“Of course, I vowed to become a hero to prove them wrong. Their taunts surely couldn’t hold me down,” he said with a smirk. “Mmhm,” you replied. At least he found the courage to overcome the obstacles that tried to stop him from becoming a hero and maybe that’s why he acted the way he did.

It wasn’t to make others feel small, but rather to continue to make himself feel bigger than those bullies. “Of course, there are also the familial expectations,” your thoughts were broken. “Familial…e-expectations?” you repeated, feeling your heart sink in your chest.

“Oh yes, the pressure to maintain good grades and appearances and all that. It’s really quite exhausting living up to certain expectations,” he admitted with a dramatic sigh. You narrowed your eyes and focused on the look of hurt that now danced in his.

As much as you wanted to tell him about your family’s expectations, you instead placed what was left of your onigiri down and hesitantly reached across the table and laid your hand over his. He gasped at the contact, and you immediately pulled away.

“S-sorry!” you exclaimed, the heat in your cheeks rising. “I...I m-mean I wasn’t...I j-just...I uh...” You looked at him, swallowing thickly as he raised his eyebrow. Glancing down, you expected him to say something rude in response, but instead, he reached over, taking your hand.

“Huh?” You raised your head, watching as he slid his palm along yours, aligning your fingers. His hand, you noticed, felt warm and his skin smooth. “Um...” you latched onto your lip, nervously chewing it before finding the courage to ask what he was doing.

“Shh,” he responded and slowly slipped his fingers between yours and smiled as he stared at your now conjoined hands. It wasn’t like any smile he had given before. There was something softer, loving about it. Like he had just witnessed the most beautiful thing in the world and then he muttered the words, “Perfect fit.”

To say that such words caught you off guard would be an understatement. That same sensation from last night came when you looked at your hand cradled in his. A smile then enveloped your features. ‘Maybe this is happiness,’ you confirmed, squeezing his hand gently.

Silence filled the space between the two of you as you enjoyed this happy moment. But then, a thought entered your mind, and it was this thought that shattered the smile on your face to pieces. “Hm? Is something the matter?” he asked, feeling insulted that you were frowning because he was currently holding your hand.

You shook your head. “N-no,” you said, looking at him again. “Nothing’s um…wrong.” A sigh escaped your lips moments later, causing him to knit his eyebrows. He opened his mouth, prepared to ask what was wrong again, but you spoke first.

“My family a-also has certain…e-expectations…and...” You looked away from him, rubbing the side of your neck. Why you were even telling him this, you didn’t know. Neito narrowed his eyes as he watched your cheeks turn a luscious pink.

Although he was quite astounded by this, he was envious that he wasn’t the cause of it…maybe even a little angry. “And what?” He growled, making you knit your eyebrows as you looked at him. For a moment, you wondered if what you had said made him angry.

Maybe he was just angry that the attention had shifted to you. Regardless of the happy moment the two of you shared earlier, you still thought Neito was a bit selfish and obsessed with himself. “Um…” you looked down, partly wondering if you should actually tell him or not.

Then again, you were trying to bond with him in a sense, and he had told you details about his life he surely wouldn’t have shared with anyone else. So, you took a deep breath and let it out. “T-they have expectations about my…f-future love life…” It was like a lightning bolt passed through his chest, causing his heart to crumble.

“W-what!?” He snapped in reply, standing from his seat and ignoring the people who were now staring because of his outburst causing your cheeks to darken into a rich red color. “Uh, M-Monoma…” You said, sinking in your seat.

However, he wasn’t willing to listen to reason and shook his head. “What on Earth do you mean they have expectations, surely they do not intend to marry you off to…to...” He clenched his jaw, trying to think of the correct words. “Some immature individual who could never hope to measure up to the greatness I display!”

He pressed his hands against the table and leaned over, intent on speaking more until he saw the expression on your face. Like a kicked puppy, a frown decorated your lips, and your eyes were dull as if someone had ripped out your very soul.

He blinked. “Y/n?” he questioned, and you latched onto your lip before gathering your things from the table and quickly putting them into your backpack. “Y/n?” he repeated, panic and concern dripping from his voice. “I-I’ll see you later, Monoma…” you said, slipping your backpack over your shoulders.

“Wait!” he half-heartedly called, but you left the library in a hurry. More importantly, you left the gift he had so generously given you and the drink you had placed on the table. “Mm…” he frowned, obviously confused and angry as to why you had reacted the way you did to his words.

Days passed, and Neito found himself increasingly anxious. He hated to admit that he was feeling such a way, and it was hard to keep up his confidence when he hadn’t seen you. Even when he happened to catch a glimpse of you, it was clear you were going out of your way to avoid him.

He pondered if his words were the reason behind your drastic actions and eventually, he was unable to contain his frustration. “Ah!” He shouted into the night. Having been unable to sleep, he decided wandering the grounds of the student housing campus may help him.

But unfortunately, it didn’t. His mind was still fixated on you and more importantly, “How can I get her to fall for me!?” He raised his arms above his head and sighed dramatically before his knees buckled. He fell to the ground with his fists twisted into the grass.

“Heh, so I take it that Y/n didn’t receive your gifts well?” His body instantly snapped up and he looked around, uncertain of where the voice had come from. “Huh?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. Surely, he was not going mad.

He sighed, then again, perhaps you had something to do with that. Oh, how could he get you to see him the way that he saw you? He clenched his jaw, feeling his body heat up and anger rush through his veins. He stood on his feet.

“Hmp,” he grumbled before turning around only to stumble straight into someone else. He cried out, and his nose crinkled at the rather cheap smell that invaded his nostrils. He looked up, only to see Mirio smiling down at him.

He cried out in disgust and attempted to shove him away, but due to their stature difference, Mirio remained where he was, and Neito ended up stumbling back because of his actions. “Heh, did I scare you? Sorry about that, totally didn’t mean to!” The upperclassman commented, only to have Neito growl in response.

“So, what happened between you and Y/n? Did my suggestion not work as well as you hoped?” He asked, ignoring Neito’s glare. “I should have known better than to take advice from anyone,” he stated, stomping his foot against the ground. “I will win over Y/n myself! I do not need your help,” he declared, walking away.

Mirio tilted his head, somewhat confused by what he was seeing, but waved him goodbye. “Well, alright! But you know you could just confess your feelings. That is if you want Y/n to know how much you care about her,” Neito stopped and looked at Mirio from over his shoulder.

“Confess…my…feelings?” He repeated, his eyes shifting back and forth. “Yup,” Mirio replied, placing his hands on his hips. “After all, how can you expect someone to fall for you if they don’t even know how you feel in the first place?” He blinked, before tapping his chin a few times.

He thought he had already made his feelings for you clear. Then again, you were rather shy and antisocial. Why of course! That must be why you remained unreceptive to his actions and words. You needed him to be clearer. Yes, yes! That was it.

He simply needed to tell you how he felt about you straight-forward and then, oh yes, you would no doubt fall for him. It was a perfectly devised plan. “Hm, very well. Perhaps confessing my feelings for Y/n would be beneficial,” he replied and tried to ignore the rather absurd smile that Mirio gave him.

“That sounds awesome! Good luck!” He stated, and despite receiving a rather obscene glare from the underclassmen, he was still happy for him. Although confessing your feelings wasn’t easy, from what he had already seen Neito was quite the character and in a way, anyone would be lucky to have someone with such confidence in their life.

In the back of his mind, however, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Neito got rejected. Yikes, probably nothing good. But if that did happen, he’d try his best to help. Broken hearts kind of sucked, but they could be healed with plenty of support from friends.

Despite your conflicting feelings, you found yourself sitting in the library, at your usual table, which over the past week had also become Neito’s table. You weren’t sure why you were even here, but you knew that Neito wasn’t exactly the most thoughtful with his words.

More than likely, he didn’t realize just how intense the romantic pressure your family placed on you was. Frankly, it disgusted you that they wanted to marry you off to whoever they thought was best for you. It was a wonder what they’d think of Neito and his unorthodox method of trying to court you.

If you were honest, the possessive nature that he held over you was also a bit unnerving. Then again, it was probably his ego talking, and after everything he had gone through, including people making fun of his quirk and putting him down, it was understandable why he would be prideful.

However, that was no excuse to oversell yourself or try to claim someone else as your own. Yet, it was nice to know that someone wanted you that bad. Someone who aspired to do good through his hero work and had overcome his inner demons.

So maybe you were just sitting here in hopes he’d come to you. Little did you know that was exactly what was going to happen. His heart was pounding in his chest, and a warm hue coursed through his cheeks giving them a pink appearance.

He ran past the doors of the library, startling the few students standing around or browsing through the nearby shelves. He frantically looked around and a sense of relief rushed over him when he spotted you. His lip quivered, a sensation that was entirely new to him.

Yet, he knew that you were the reason behind it, and it was almost scary thinking that someone such as yourself had this kind of power over him. But perhaps that was love. Yes, he would admit that he was a tad bit obsessed with you.

However, his affection stemmed from the fact that you were vastly different from everyone else. He took a deep breath. ‘Pull yourself together, you’re Neito Monoma!’ He reminded himself, curling his hands into fists before he made his way to your table.

“Hm?” You held your breath when you lifted your head and saw him walking toward you, just as you predicted. It was almost as though the two of you were drawn to this space, to one another. You noticed the unusual nervous expression he wore, and it perplexed you. Why was he nervous? If anyone should be nervous, it should be you.

As he stood in front of the table, the pink color that filled his cheeks turned a soft red. He glanced away and rubbed the side of his neck. Oh, how would he confess to you? Surely you wouldn’t accept his feelings if they weren’t presented in the most perfect way possible. Then again…perhaps feelings were askew for a reason.

They were not something one asked for, and in some cases, couldn’t control. He took a deep breath and felt a tingle course through him, it was almost like lightning. It caused his hair to stand on end and only intensified when he locked eyes with you.

He stumbled forward, slamming his hands on the table to ensure he truly had your attention. Your eyes widened in response, and yes, you looked at him with an expression that danced somewhere between confusion and irritation. Why did he do that in the first place?

He smirked and leaned over, despite the damned butterflies in his stomach, he poured out his emotions. “Y-you!” He stated with a pointed finger. “My…pursuit of you has proved to be difficult, and although I desired you because of your unusual personality-” You looked at him strangely.

“Unusual...personality?” you repeated, almost sounding offended. He nodded and while he could go into detail, now wasn’t the time for that. “My plan to court you,” he continued, “by insisting on being the star topic of your presentation has...fallen apart.” He glanced away, feeling more shameful than anything.

He hated failure and yes maybe that stemmed from his family’s expectations. Unlike you, however, he had a choice when it came to his love life, and he chose you. Yes, you, and damn anyone else. You kept looking at him perplexed. This was not what you expected.

He glanced back at you, his cheeks remaining a soft red. “I…I do not know why you acted the way you did when I attempted to claim courtship rights over you despite your familial expectations. Perhaps romance makes you uncomfortable,” he dreaded to think his courting methods made you feel such a way.

But surely that was ridiculous. As he had stated many times, no one was more perfect for you than him. “I’m more than certain you know I will not stop my pursuit,” he hissed, he had to at least make that clear. He placed one hand on his hip, and the other remained pressed against the table.

His head turned to the side, and he closed his eyes. His lips curled up as if he had smelled something foul. “You are truly naive if you believe that I would allow your family to hand you off to anyone who is not me!” He snapped, placing the hand that was against his hip on his chest.

Your heart fluttered, you knew family matters, especially dealing with arranged marriages and love, were complicated. And even if Neito’s affection was somewhat yandere, it was clear that he wouldn’t let your family control you. Your thoughts were shattered when you heard him huff.

“The thought of losing you to…another is just…unethical. Nobody could take better care of you than I, Neito Monoma!” He announced and before you could react, he raced around the table to stand in front of you and took your hand.

Your soft delicate hand that he never wanted to let go. Then he got down on one knee as if he were proposing, and while you wouldn’t put that past him, it was clear there was another reason he was doing it. Once he was situated, he pressed your hand against his chest, and you could feel the rapid flutter of his heart.

You were a little worried that he might need to see Recovery Girl. But even if you suggested that, he would refuse until he said what he needed to say. He narrowed his eyes with determination. “I will not stop my pursuit of you,” he repeated, before taking a deep breath.

“As such, I vow to become the ideal hero for you.” Even if he had said similar things to you over the past week, a wave of surprise and a feeling of newfound hope coursed through your veins and a gentle smile formed on your face.

He felt a tinge of nerves once again consume him when you leaned forward, parting your lips to speak. This was it. Were you going to reject or accept his feelings? Either way, it didn’t matter. He’d wear you down until you were his.

Much to his surprise, you said, “I…accept your feelings.” Although you couldn’t tell him how to feel in the first place. His mouth hung open, making you chuckle. That look of confusion and shock was a rare sight, but he shook his head, soon regaining his composure as he stood back up.

“W-well of course you would,” he said, using that familiar know-it-all tone that you had gotten all too associated with. He then cleared his throat before noticing an exhibition board lying against one of the legs of the table. “What is that?” He questioned, pointing to it.

You turned your head and your stomach twisted. Oh, so he had noticed it. You took a deep breath, rubbing your hands along your thighs before grabbing it. “I…f-finished my project,” you said, opening it to reveal three separate panels.

The words ‘Pro Hero or Student: Traits that Make Both Shine’ were across the top of it. On the first panel, you had an explanation of what you were doing with your project and the traits you had experimented with. The middle panel displayed pictures of famous heroes and the qualities they possessed.

Finally on the last panel was a picture of Phantom Thief, Neito’s hero alias, and underneath was information regarding the versatility of his quirk, the traits he had in common with your selection of pro heroes, and why they were stronger.

Although flattered, he was expecting more of the focus to be on him. Surely, he should have taken up all three panels. But this was a start, at least the General Studies Department would know how amazing he was. He smiled pridefully and looked at you.

“Well, perhaps your next assigned project can truly focus on me,” he said, already making assumptions. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and closed the exhibition board before placing it back against the leg of the table. “I…e-even after what you said I…I wanted to w-work on the project…” you admitted.

“I thought it was t-the right thing to d-do because…” you paused and Neito leaned closer, eager to hear what you had to say about him. You took a deep breath, feeling heat course through your cheeks. The weight of his stare was certainly heavy but welcomed.

You turned your gaze back on him. “You’ve been through so much a-and despite your attitude,” which while unpleasant sometimes also was welcomed, “y-you’re an amazing person,” you stated before glancing away. You could feel your cheeks growing hotter by the second and your confidence skyrocketing.

“And…if what you say i-is true, that you’d never l-let my family marry me to anyone else then…” you swallowed unsure of how you’d phrase this. “I want you in my life,” yup. There it was. The conclusion of your project-themed journey with Neito. Sure…he was egotistical, pushy, and at times had no common decency when it came to manners.

But he was still determined, always looking to do the right thing, and willing to do whatever it took to protect those he cared about. Even through the negativity and doubt that people had regarding his abilities as a hero, he sought to prove them wrong.

Of course, you suspected that he also sought to prove to himself that he had what it took to become a hero. To rise above naysayers was a quality to be admired; maybe sometime soon, he could teach you how to be a social butterfly or at least speak to other students outside of your department.

Then again, maybe it was better not to think about social interaction now. His face was beaming and the expression that danced in his eyes reflected that loving and caring side that he often kept concealed. “Oh Y/n!” he exclaimed, making you yelp in surprise when he embraced you and proceeded to nuzzle his head against yours.

He loved the floral and fruity scent that permeated from your hair and invaded his nostrils. It gave him a sense of peace before he pulled away. “What a glorious moment this is!” He said, taking hold of your hands. “Come!” He stated, and without warning yanked you out of your chair.

“What!?” You exclaimed as he pulled you against him once more and smirked. A soft chuckle escaped him before he leaned closer. “You are rather adorable when taken by surprise, perhaps I’ll do this more often,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“For now, I believe a celebration is in order,” you knitted your eyebrows. A celebration? For what? Your newfound friendship? Your acceptance of his feelings? It was so hard to determine what was going through his mind. But you allowed him to lead you out of the library regardless.

While he rambled on about getting some type of latte, something dawned on you. Your life was going to change drastically now that Neito was part of it. Then again, you had a feeling the more traits you learned about him, the closer the two of you would become.

#neito x female reader #bnha x fem!reader #monoma x y/n #bnha x female reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #monoma x female reader #monoma x reader #neito x reader #faulty writes: neito monoma: 23 #faulty writes: neito monoma: hero studies series: 23

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