#Control fanfiction

[sylibane]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Control (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Original Characters, Jesse Faden, Other Characters Mentioned But Not Present Additional Tags: Epistolary, Canon-Typical Violence, Altered Items (Control), Accidental Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canon Compliant, (as much as possible), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, preemptively tagging for violence, expecting things to get nastier in future chapters Summary:

In 2003, a group of kids discovered a birdcage with the ability to make any letter left inside it disappear, supposedly sent to the future. But nobody realized the birdcage’s true power until it was almost too late. In 2019, a pair of low-level FBC employees wait out the Hiss Invasion by sorting through the letters and other documents of the birdcage incident to figure out what happened, only to realize that something is alive in the words. Presented here are the transcripts of their taped conversations, along with the relevant documents of the case.

[noodlecupcakes]

So I finally got around to writing something for the Tom Zane X Casper Darling ship...enioy

[chriscdcase95]

Chapter Sixteen: “After the Storm”

Okay, long, LONG, time coming, but I've been sitting on this one for over a year, but we're finally getting a full Pricefield chapter, after spending sixteen chapters mostly in the background.

We are also gonna be following up a segment I wrote in chapter 3 (all the way back from 2020). I've been meaning to do this one last year, but I had other arcs to wrap up. Mainly Rachel’s LA storyline.

Now this is a Route A chapter (”Sacrifice Arcadia Bay”), and will cover the immediate aftermath of the Bae ending, at least this fic’s version of that ending, and the FBC's investigation.

It was gonna be longer and would focus on Max and Chloe's years together before the present day, but I didn't want to over bloat the chapter. Luckily, it’s Route B (“Sacrifice Chloe”) version won’t be that much of a hassle to write. 

We were also gonna cover how the cast of Until Dawn meet and befriends the surviving LIS cast in 2015. But that can be saved for a later date.

There are other things I was hoping include; properly introducing Chloe's grandmother, Beth Price, after spending a while talking about her; as well as finding out more about this “Diana Reid” that Jonathan and Ashbury being up here and there. 

But I think Diana will get her own chapter covering her backstory. 

One newcomer we have is Agent “Gabriel Wallace”, an FBC agent and a seemingly minor but key player in the lore of Vampyr and this fic’s backstory. Though I’m not really subtle about his true identity. “Wallace” also briefly appears in the previous chapter, but this is his proper introduction.

Anyways, with what I did include, I hope you enjoy the read. We’re also getting several characters I’ve been wanting to feature for a while; be it those lost to the storm, who it’s survivors.

Content Warning: Canon character deaths and violence typical to the story thus far. There’s also mentions, allusions and a quick instance of sexual assault; however, there’s nothing too graphic depicted there.

[stervrucht]

How I feel after finally finishing that long-ass chapter...

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Jason had been acting strange lately, something everyone except him seemed to notice. It started with Jason bringing Tim a full home-cooked meal into his nest and insisting he needed to eat something decent and wouldn't let him get back to the case he was obsessing over until he did.

Dick got called "Big Wing" for the first time in a while and even got hugged and spun around. He nearly cried.

Bruce keeps getting called Dad. He also nearly cries. He actually does cry when Jason, half asleep, mutters a soft, "love you"

Cass took advantage of Jason's good mood to invite him to chat with her and Steph on a picnic where they both tried to figure out why he's so happy and buy time for Barbara to look through all the places Jason had been and make sure he didn't run foul of a rogue or something.

It didn't take her too long to find out all of this started soon after a party he was invited to via one of his former goons where Jason got drunk and left with an equally drunk guy.

Appearently Jason got laid but the guy disappeared soon after. Whats more mysterious is that this Daniel (Danny) Nightengale was a fake identity and they had no idea who- or what- he really was or what effect he was having on Jason.

Damian made the mistake of insulting this guy and it took Bruce, Dick, Tim and Cass working together to pull a pit raged Jason off of him.

Yeah.

They needed to find this guy.

Plot twist: Jason unknowingly fed on Dannys energy and accidentally got thralled

[natalievoncatte]

Kara had a guilty pleasure, one she didn’t share with anyone. It would have been awkward, and besides, everyone- friends, family, Lena; they all would have mocked her, relentlessly. It was the first of September and Kara was bracing herself for six months of the most exquisite torture.

She wasn’t expecting it on Lena’s desk.

When she walked into the office, the scent hit her. It tickled something in her brain and set her nerves alight, cascading shivers of excitement running down her limbs.

Kryptonians, you see, are not human. They are aliens, and react to things, to stimuli, in ways humans do not. The most obvious implication of this is Kryptonite, or rather the Kryptonite radiation it emits, which is unique to Kara’s lost homeworld and is deadly poisonous to her while being essentially harmless to humans without both significant and prolonged exposure.

There were, however, other things that Kara responded to differently. Certain flavors were too intense; some things her peers found pleasant were overwhelming or inexplicably bitter or otherwise unpalatable. Her enhanced hearing, even without her powers active, made her sensitive to noises that a human wouldn’t even notice. The list went on and on.

One thing in particular, though, was especially… stimulating to her. It got her motor going, as it were. Not like that, of course. Ironically it had the same effect on her that caffeine had on humans, even in small quantities.

There was something in pumpkin spice that excited Kara. Just not like that.

Okay, maybe a little like that. Even the scent of it made her feel things, and there was a steaming hot cup of it on Lena Luthor’s desk.

Kara had been summoned over some editorial matter of little consequence, probably an excuse to chat. When she stepped into her office, Kara stopped dead because Lena reached across her desk and picked up that cup and Kara was already having trouble.

Lena was… Lena. She was dressed in thigh high boots and black jeans and a tight, low cut green sweater that revealed a generous swell of cleavage that immediately drew Kara’s brazen eye. She caught herself looking and quickly put a stop to it, but Lena was looking right at her, smoldering green eyes peering at her over the rim of that damned coffee cup.

Great Rao, Lena was beautiful. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, baring the elegant column of her neck and her sharp jawline. Her visible ear carried multiple piercings dripping with diamonds and there was a faint pink tinge to her pale cheek. The red of her lipstick was almost violent and she positively smoldered. One might have thought she was dolled up for a photo shoot.

Kara was staring at those lips as she took a sip of coffee, leaving a faint white stain on the white cup.

Such a visual feast with the mere scent of the spices in her coffee was enough to weaken Kara’s knees and make her secretly fidget her toes inside her shoes. It was only a quick chat, a five minute conversation, but it was excruciating trying to get through it like this.

“Earth to Kara,” Lena sighed.

Kara blinked. “Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll go?”

“Where am I going?”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“Okay, Kara, you’re benched.”

“Wait, what?”

Lena huffed. “Look, it’s noble, going days without sleep while you live your double life, and we did agree that Supergirl duties will take precedence over your work here… but I can see you’re exhausted. I can’t order you to stop rescuing cats from trees and helping old ladies with their taxes, but I can order you to take the rest of the week off from working here. Which you are. Starting now.”

Actually, Lena probably could order her to stop doing things. Lena could probably order to do anything with the spicy tang in her nostrils and the quivering weakness in her limbs as heat gathered low in her belly. Kara was glad that she had just been ordered out.

“Oh,” Lena said, “and stop at Noonan’s on your way out. I hear the pumpkin spice lattes are your favorite and well,” she gave her cup a little shake.

Kara decided she would not stop at Noonan’s.

She stopped at Noonan’s. She got a PSL and a pumpkin spice bear claw and a dozen pumpkin spice donuts and consumed them all in the span of five minutes once she set foot inside her loft, after which she spent the next thirty in the shower thinking about Lena’s pillowy red lips and how kissable they were and her pale skin and how badly she wanted to mark it as hers and she sort of spent an hour in a pumpkin spice fueled fugue, and then passed out on her bed buck-ass naked.

Which was where she still was when the knock came at the door.

Her head shot up from the bed and she realized that it was movie night and she was hosting. She had no movies picked out, no snacks, and no clothes.

What she did have was super-speed, and this had a spread of frozen snacks ready to go in the oven, and a stack of blu-rays to be voted on, and pants. She needed pants and probably a bra and definitely a shirt. Humans were weird about their torsos. Fortunately Kryptonians were, too. Kara was rather lucky that she hadn’t landed on a planet that considered shirts obscene.

There were at least two like that, which isn’t a lot, but it was more than you’d think.

Kara opened the door and greeted Alex and Kelly, ushering them in. Brainy and Nia were next.

Lena showed up last, dressed in one of her peculiar movie night fits- a stylish leather jacket over honest to god fluffy pajamas, like a fashion plate going to a slumber party. Her hair was down and wavy and she looked soft and inviting and Kara wanted to snuggle her relentlessly and was very glad that the pumpkin spice was largely out of her system.

Largely.

Oh.

Lena lifted the two six packs she was carrying, giving Kara a suggestive arch of her eyebrow. Lena liked to bring gifts when Kara hosted, usually wine. Tonight she had twelve chilled bottles of… pumpkin spice beer.

Kara wanted to scream. Or possibly moan. Or possibly make Lena moan and maybe spank her a little.

Fuck!

“Hi-hi,” said Kara.

“Hi yourself,” said Lena. “Mind if I come in, or do you want to drink these right here?”

“C-come in,” said Kara.

“Eyyyyyy,” said Alex, as she saw the six packs. “The spice must flow!”

“The spice must flow,” Kelly repeated.

“Chai Hulud,” Nia said, in a faux-deep voice.

“I believe it is “Shai Hulud,” said Brainy.

“Sure, honey,” said Nia, patting his knee.

“You gonna hand those out?” said Alex.

“These are for our host,” said Lena. “Kara has plenty of spirits in her fridge.”

Alex busted out laughing, confusing the others.

Kara remained stone-faced.

Movie night then went on as normal. Everyone took seats, the first movie was voted on, snacks were enjoyed and beers were had. The pumpkin bottles sat in their cardboard holders in the fridge, untouched.

Until they got into the second movie, and Lena sauntered over from the kitchen carrying two bottles, and thrust one into Kara’s hands as she wedged herself in between Kara and Nia, casually tossing her legs over Kara’s lap.

Kara steadfastly did not look. She would not look. She would not look. Surely Lena was just making herself comfortable and private hadn’t noticed that the top couple of buttons on her pajama top had popped themselves and she was showing quite a generous amount of…

Kara looked away sharply. She had looked.

“Do the thing, darling,” said Lena.

“Do the thing! Do the thing! Do they thing!” Nia began to chant.

Sighing, Kara took her bottle and Lena’s, and popped the caps loose with a flock of her thumbs. Lena squealed in delight and Kara realized that actually drinking this concoction was an amazingly terrible idea.

Especially since Lena was basically in her lap now.

Kara tried not to drink, but the hint of that spicy scent from the beer was enough to make every nerve ending tingle and start a fire in her belly. She took a long pull on it and quickly realized she’d drained the bottle in one go.

Lena, grinning, stood up. Kara watched every sway of her hips as she marched to the kitchen, bent to grab another bottle from the bottom shelf of the fridge, and sashayed back to shamelessly plop right in Kara’s lap and offer her the new bottle.

The little display has gotten at least Alex’s attention, and she looked somehow at once horrified and amused and whispered to Kelly, who snorted.

Nia picked up on it next, after Kara had downed her fourth one of the cured pumpkin brews and her brain was sloshing around in sweet cinnamony goodness.

She was running into a considerable problem. Lena was curled up in her lap, draped across her in fact, a soft weight that was driving her absolute insane even as the scent of Lena’s… of Lena mingled with the spices singing in her veins. She forgot the movie. She forgot the existence of everything but Lena, and barely noticed when Alex announced,

“Guys, it’s late. I think we better head out so that Kara and Lena can clean up.”

“Perhaps we should help,” Brainy suggested.

“Nah, let’s go,” said Nia, who then muttered, “seriously Querl we need to go.”

Kara blinked and watched them all pile out, Alex shooting Lena a knowing look before rolling her eyes and closing the door.

Two seconds after the door closed, Lena twisted languidly in Kara’s lap, and was now no longer sitting in her lap but straddling her.

Kryptonians, you see, are not human. They are aliens, and react to things, to stimuli, in ways humans do not. They also have anatomical structures that humans do not, something that was was currently causing Kara to blush furiously, because Lena was well… sitting on it.

“I can explain,” Kara squeaked.

The look Lena gave her would have been devastating, pumpkin spice or no pumpkin spice. Lena’s face filled her vision as Lena placed her hands on Kara’s sides and rolled her hips, dragging a groan out of her.

“Is that explanation going to include a hands on demonstration?” said Lena. “I may need a few rounds before I fully understand.”

Kara swallowed hard. “You mean… you w-want to…”

“Kara,” Lena sighed. “How is someone who’s been flirting with me for five years so bad at flirting?”

Kara stared at her.

“Just, um, to clarify, you’re flirting with me, right?”

“I’m sitting in your lap unbuttoning my top, darling. I believe that qualifies.”

“You’re what?”

Lena grinned and swept her fingers down her chest, popping the rest of the buttons in sequence. The pajama top suddenly hung lose, baring the lush inner curves of her breasts while obscuring the rest of her in an agonizing promise.

Kara, finally, after years of this, took the hint and had Lena relieved of her fuzzy pajamas by the time they hit the bed.

The next morning, or rather next afternoon when Lena woke up, Kara looked over at her. Her eyes had just opened and she was grinning ear to ear.

“Lena?” said Kara.

“Yes? Before we go again I’m going to need a protein shake and some supplements.”

Kara felt her ears burning as her cheeks heated.

“Did you know about the pumpkin spice thing?”

“Pumpkin spice thing?” said Lena.

“Alex told you, right?”

Lena pursed her lips.

“Nope.”

“Cat Grant?”

“No, although I did ask her and she said you, and I quote, ‘creamed your khakis’ in front of her one time.”

“Then who?”

Lena grinned.

“I went to Clark to ask him the right way to go about seeking your attentions. Lois overheard and pulled me aside. Apparently you two share the same weaknesses.”

“My only weakness is you, baby.”

“Oh, it’s baby now, is it?”

“Yup,” said Kara.

[kettlefire]

Not Always a Villain (DP x DC Prompt)

Alfred Pennyworth is a man who always stands on business. Despite what the world might think, Alfred is truly the scariest man within the Wayne family.

He is a man of morals, that is correct. There are some lines Alfred refuses to cross. Harming kids is one of them. However, some morals become flexible when it comes to his family.

Alfred isn't Batman. Or any of the other vigilantes under Batman's wing. Alfred is simply a butler, and that's all that matters. He loves his family, deeply and truly. If there is a day when no love is shared, that is the day he is dead.

Despite all that, Alfred is detatched from the vigilante work. His job is to be there for the Wayne family. To offer them help in any way he can. And Alfred always delivers.

Even if it goes unnoticed, just how large of a role he plays.

Alfred is content with his role, with his life. He is more than happy keeping his darker traits hidden and tucked away. Unneeded in a family like the Waynes.

That was until a new villain appeared in the scene. A young man who seemed to strick fear in the hearts of everyone who encountered him. With snow white hair and blood red eyes.

Alfred barely spared a thought to it. Barely paid attention to the chatter about this villain. It wasn't his job to. Alfred was simply a butler, and that was all.

That was until the day it happened. Damian Wayne was sent to the hospital. Bloodied and broken. A truly brutal attack.

When Alfred looked down at the young master. Bruised in a hospital bed with a tube helping him to breathe. Bandages hiding most of the damage, but the whole family knew. This was an extremely close call.

In that moment, Alfred Pennyworth snapped.

He pulled some strings and checked in a few long, overdue favors. Before long, Alfred was on his own mission. He didn't breathe a word of it to Bruce or the others.

Alfred knew they would try to stop him. Or worses, they'll try to join in. This was something Alfred needed to do. Despite being an overall kind-hearted man, Alfred still had the heart of a stone cold killer.

He failed when it had been Jason. Alfred wasn't going to fail Damian. Not another Wayne kid will be failed. Not anymore.

Alfred had been so set on doing it. In taking out this villain before things escalated further. This young man was clearly cold-hearted, willing to hurt anyone and anything.

That's what Alfred thought.

What he believed until the moment he was face to face with the young man. It had been so certain. The man was unbelievably cold. Laughing in the face of Alfred's words, only stroking the old man's anger.

That was until Alfred had landed a hit, and everything shifted.

Blood red eyes suddenly shifted to bright lazarus pit green. The cruel look in those eyes suddenly changed to a horrified guilty expression. The man had stopped the fight in an instant.

Pulling away from Alfred. Terror and guilt clear as day as the villain seemed to retreat. In that moment, it all seemed to click in Alfred's mind.

This wasn't a villain. He wasn't a monster only determined to hurt anyone in his path. He wasn't the Joker.

Even when green eyes turned red once again. Even when the young man struggled and fought against him.

Alfred didn't yield.

He slapped special cuffs on the man, removing the powers he had. Dragged the villain all the way back to the cave.

Even when the anger and recognition flooded everyones' expressions. Alfred didn't stand down. He held strong, refusing to let anyone get their hands on the young man.

The young man that seemed too much like a young boy.

Alfred pushed the crusade to help. Laid his case out. Pulled the trust card. The supposed villain wasn't the person Alfred had beef with.

Not after hour long interrogations. Getting as much information as they could. It was a struggle, but it found an end. Alfred had no qualms with this young man.

No, he quickly learned who was to blame. Who was the person who deserved Alfred's anger. Deserved to pay for what was done. Alfred had a name, and soon... Very soon, that person will be in an obituary. A name was all Alfred needed.

Alfred was going to take down this Freakshow. Even if it was the last thing he could do.

[fleursdesmorts]

every year people get angry when ao3 requests donations but honestly in a world where almost all spaces online are slowly being eaten by corporations which censor the content on those sites, having a fan-run fan-sponsored place where people can create gay art without fear is great

[bacchusbasil]

Ficlet- Stan Loses his Memory (Shapes and Pines AU)

“Oh my gosh, Grunkle Stan you did it!” Mabel excitedly exclaimed as she placed the fez upon the kneeling man’s head.

Ford, Dipper, and Tad lingered behind, sober looks on their faces. Ford rubs his arm as a tear wells up in Tad’s eye.

“Oh uh... Hey there… Kiddo,” Stan hesitantly greets, gently removing Mabel’s arms from his shoulders. “What’s your name?”

Mabel laughs nervously. “Uh, Grunkle Stan?”

Dipper covers his mouth silently, joining next to his sister.

The man in the trench coat touched the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle and looked around. “Heh… who ya talkin’ to?” 

Tad floats up to Stan’s face, reaching for his chin. “C’mon, Mack! You know us! Don’t ya remember me? Your husband-for-tax-purposes?”

The blue being’s supposed husband just stares blankly. Tad grabs him by the collar. “You can’t just forget our anniversary that easily! C’mon, does twenty years of commitment mean nothing to you?!”

Stan backs away from the two, who now have tears flowing over their faces, and Dipper grabs each by the shoulders to pull them away.

Ford leans over to comfort Mabel. “We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill. It’s all gone.”

The older man glances up at his brother. “Stan has no idea, but he did it. He saved the world.”

Ford moves closer to Stan, placing his arms on either shoulder. “He saved me.”

The amnesiac blinked unrecognizingly as Ford teared up. “You’re our hero, Stanley.” His voice cracks. He embraces his brother for the first time in forty years.

Tad reaches for Mabel’s hand, who takes it and pulls him close like a teddy bear. The square cries into her sweater sleeve and she cries into his bowler hat, Dipper putting a hand on her shoulder and lowering his cap.

The family took a solemn moment to mourn.

(Shapes and Pines belongs to @void-dude )

[xeeljii]

MORNING GLORY

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

Summary: Soft morning sex, he just looks so easy to spoil. Continuation of this but can be read as stand alone. 

Word count: 3.4k

CW: 18+, f! reader, no specific body descriptions, established relationship. 

The light of the morning sun is soft against you cheeks, you wake up with his breath on the back of your neck, his lips pressed on your pulse, you can feel the soft exhale of his sleepy snores, and the dampness of the drool on your skin too, he has you caged between his strong arms like you will run away. You turn softly in his embrace not to wake him but Joost is a heavy sleeper so there is no real problem there. In his arms you feel secure and warm in a way that reaches deep in your heart and makes you want to stay like this forever. He looks so pretty, the golden highlights of his hair messily framing the beautiful ridges of his face, you reach a gentle fingertip to trace the skin on his cheekbones, at times it feels unfair to have him all to yourself like this, in ways no one else gets to see, like hiding a great wonder of the world behind closed door, but you also like that, how he is only yours.

Your limbs are tangled beneath the thick comforter you feel his hardness press at your thigh that he has trapped between his legs. You want to let him sleep peacefully forever, he deserves it, he works so hard, travels so much, always to come back home to you, a home he has made for himself in your arms, but the heat his body exudes is too delicious to let this pass up. The instant gratification outweighs your wish to let him rest and you start pressing open mouthed kisses along his jaw, softly but urgently, waking him slowly from his slumber. You kiss insistently against his lips before he starts opening his eyes. “Well good morning to you too” Joost says rubbing his face, he looks so young like this, it sends a pang of nostalgia to your heart for a version of him you have never met and yet still love so much. You kiss him between words as he chuckles beneath you.

“Hi” you reply simply, breathless.

Now awake you have him ready to go under you, you throw a leg over this thighs sitting right above his cock, you look down at him smiling wide ear to ear, you feel giddy like your mind is already miles ahead of you and your body following blindly in the rehearsed movements you know so well that never fail to have him moaning under you.

You take him in your hands, the tip of his dick an angry shade of red, dripping already, he is so needy at this time of day, but he knows to let you have your time, you enjoy the process and the reward is all the sweeter.

“You are so beautiful” Your voice goes straight to his dick, it kicks on your palms and you start moving softly almost nothing.

The skin there is so velvety soft you want to spoil him to no end. Your thumb applies delicious pressure on the underside of his dick following the thick vein that has him melting under you, you feel yourself dampen but that will come later. You like to play and he lets you. You start stroking him with both hands, not enough grip to get him where he wants, he is thicker than most, an addicting stretch you get to enjoy and in moments like this you just like to admire him. The familiar weight of his length in your hands feels so thrilling he emanates warm normally, you love it on winter, bear it on summer and in moments like this it feels like it burns at your skin like coal but you could never leave him hanging. You tighten your hold on him, swipe your thumb against his slit and he moans instantly his pretty lips falling open, pink and shiny, his hips buckle against your hands without him meaning to.

“Easy there” You say as you move closer to his dick, your damp pussy lips barely above his length, he can feel the heat coming off you.

“Sorry” he mutters sheepishly. His hands are tangled in the sheets holding tightly keeping himself in place for you.

“Good boy” You purr on top of him, he makes a strangled sounds between a whimper and a moan, you could feel bad about how hard he is trying for you if only having him like this painfully needy didn’t make you feel at top of the world.

You use his precum to move your hands easier along his shaft, twisting your hand in a swift movement when you reach the tip, quickly working him up into a feverish pleasure.

“Fuck schat” His hands fly to your tights like he is holding for dear life like and his body will float away any second, his fingers dig into the fat of your legs desperate to have you close

You keep your ministrations going hypnotized by the way his chest raises and falls rapidly, his face becoming redder and his breath more labored, he is close you can feel him twitching against your palm. You smile to yourself and then stop moving altogether, your hand at the base of his cock grips him tightly to stop him from cumming. He opens his eyes mouth agape, confused look on his face and oh so cute. Your pussy is throbbing just at the sight alone.

“Not yet, let me have fun” You smile devilish down at him. He is at your mercy as always, not just now but on everything, you pull the leash and he follows happily.

An exasperated breath leaves Joost's mouth but you don’t let him dwell on it too much. You move quickly down his body making room for yourself between his spread legs, he seems shocked too lost to understand what you are doing until he gets it. Your soft breath against the sensitive skin of his tip you hold him on your hand gently easing the grip, with your other hand you, you push strands of hair behind your ear, you know he enjoys a show. He has never loved anyone this much, his heart skips a beat when you smile up at him from between his legs, a playful glint in your eyes, you lick your lips in preparation. He raises to his elbows, he has to watch, he wants to commit every second to memory. You close your eyes as you lick on his tip, his taste familiar on your tongue you suck sweetly at it, he throws his head back trying so hard not to buck his hips into your mouth.

“Liefde…” he whimpers not asking for anything really, it just feels so heavy in his heart he has to let his love out in little sounds.

You take more of his length on your mouth. The weight of his arousal heavy on your tongue, you hum against him sending waves of pleasure to his spine, his hands are holding as gently as he can at the back of your hair, fingers tangling between the strands of it. His breathing is strained, you feel him huffing from his nose, his thighs tremble slightly his iron will the only thing holding him back from pushing your head down and chocking you on his dick. You wouldn’t mind it, but he is sometimes gentle to a point of frustration, you can work on that another time. You work your mouth on as much of him as you can take, feeling his tip poke against the back of your throat and the soft hair of his happy trail against the tip of your nose, you work the rest of his length with your hand, the mixture of spit and precum making dirty sounds that could make you blush if you weren’t so far gone. You enjoy having him like this, his weight on your tongue feels relaxing, the closeness makes your heart swell, you wonder if he would let you cock warm him in your mouth, if he would even have the patience for it before he starts whining.

You pull away with a pop of your lips looking up through half lidded eyes, the top of his cheeks are such a sweet shade of pink you feel if you bit him he would taste like strawberries on your tongue, you want to eat him whole. You raise to your knees again moving up the length of his body, never stoping your hand on his dicks, softly stroking more to keep him warm than to help him reach his peak, you still want to enjoy this longer. As your core rests a breath away from his tip, he reaches his hands to your body pulling you toward him to kiss your lips hungrily, bring him back to earth a little, remind him how to breath. Holding him in your palm you start grinding his cock against your weeping cunt, just to feel him close, small gasps of heavy breath leaving your mouth, you keep going no intention of pushing him inside your core, just toying with him. The hot tip of his dick keep catching on your clit making you moan in ecstasy, he knows you are prolonging his delicious suffering with no ending on sight but so worked up he can barely think to protest, his mouth all but turned useless. His dick is heavy and so hard it could almost hurt if only the sweet wetness of your pussy wasn’t soothing him as you move deliciously slow up and down his shaft without taking him in.

“You are evil” he says throwing his head back almost in disbelief, wide smile painted on his face.

You giggle on top of him grinding yourself harder with more weight against his hot member to make him tremble, he kneads at your thighs gentle but hard and you feel yourself soften at the sight of his pretty face, maybe you have tortured him too much already.

Joost's hands travel from your hips to your waist massaging the softens beneath them, holding you close and letting his fingertips melt into your flesh. He continues to explore your soft skin, he wants to count the little beauty marks, scars, pocks everything about you is so interesting to him. His left hand stays holding you in place while his right wonders off over your soft belly, up your chest, he feels the wild beating of your heart through his palm, confirmation that he is not the only one close to the peak, the knowledge that you enjoy him so much that you get off just by touching him alone makes his heart expand in adoration, he could gift you the world and it wouldn’t be enough. He grabs gently onto your breast kneading softly, moving his hands deftly pawing at the sensitive skin of your mounds, your nipple perks up under his heat, his gaze not leaving your face, moans and whimpers of his name escaping your wet lips more often. He feels you falling apart at the seams on his lap, he grabs more greedily at you chest with both hands now, the delicious weight of you on his palms, the soft skin between his knuckles as he plays tenderly with you, the fat of your boobs spilling between his digits.

“Joost” you let a high pitched whimper escape. He toys with the perked nubs, pulling softly and twisting gently, seeing you pull away and chase the contact at the same time, you are dripping all over his length.

“If you keep going any longer I’m gonna cum” He says not as a warning but matter of factly, to see what you wanna do next, eager to dance to the beat of your drum.

You nod as you lift your hips, it would be such a waste to not have him cum inside you. You play with his dick a little more letting his tip collect the wetness between your folds before pushing him inside you. His hands leave your breasts and in an instant go to your hips to help hold you up, you take it slow the stretch so familiar but still a challenge, you try to drop your hips quickly, you have lost all your patience, you want him now.

“Easy there” He tuts, throwing your own words from earlier back at you, he thinks he is so funny. He pulls you off his cock when you wince at the sensation of the too forceful stretch.

“I know you can take it, just slow down liefje.”

Inch by inch, painfully slow guided by the strong hold of his big hands on your hips and ass, you finally bottom out. You both sigh at the same time into each others mouths and fall into shared laughter. You start lifting your hips up and letting them drop, building a rhythm that has you panting like you are in heat. Your hands move to his face holding his cheeks softly so you can see when he falls apart, he chases your touch as covertly as possible blinking slowly up at you, mouth slightly open, eyes locked on each other, he is fully awake but with your hands gently holding his face like he is made of glass he feels he could fall into slumber at any second. You kiss his lips gently feel his breath on your mouth moaning into you.

“You feel so good” He mumbles closing his eyes chasing your lips again.

“More” He pleads, opens his eyes slowly to look at you, you can never deny him even if you wanted to, he is so easy to spoil like this.

You start moving faster, harder, feel him deep in your stomach, groaning together in perfect harmony, wide eyes looking for each other, fighting hard not to shut in pleasure. Your hands move to find hold on his wide shoulders, littered with little freckles, with this new grip you can ride him harder. He is so close, you can feel him twitching inside you, his hands grab firmly at your waist pulling your closer, his head between your breast, he starts placing open mouthed kisses anywhere he can reach, sucking softly on the skin at the valley of your breast, he searches blindly for your nipples, with his lips finally finds one sucking greedily in his mouth as much of your tit as he can get. It was easy to tell what parts of you he enjoyed the most but always so funny to see how desperate he would get. You feel the urgent need to give him everything he wants so you push yourself closer to give him better access, he moans with your soft flesh in his mouth, can’t help himself and bites down as gently as he can in his frantic state.

“Shit Joost” you whimper, it is gonna leave a mark, he doesn’t look up he just starts licking over the now red skin apologetic, not regretting anything.

“I am not gonna last much longer” He mumbles right next to your perked nipple feeling his lips move faintly against the sensitive skin sends shivers up your spine, you hold onto the golden locks of his nape.

“Yeah me neither” You say breathless but smile back at him softly caressing his cheek with your knuckles.

You hold it together so well, you seem so calm even at moments like this, talking him through it, guiding him and never once letting go of his hand, he thinks that is what he likes the most about you, always a constant in his life no matter what changes, you are the lighthouse he will always look for to take him home. He is intoxicated on love, doesn’t know where he stands, the pleasure fried every last one of his nerves and yet when he feels the familiar weight of your body on his, he feels more alive than ever. His arms snake around your torso moving you easily like you are weightless in his embrace, at times like this you remember the difference in strength, he is using you like a doll to get off it is exhilarating. You hold his head against your chest as he continues making love bites bloom on your boobs, he feels the beating of your heart on his skin. You feel yourself start to unravel, your cunt start tightening with a familiar electricity sending slow sparkles that will soon erupt.

“Cum inside me Joost, inside please” You can barely finish the sentence the words transforming into strangled sound as you reach your climax, you feel your cunt start to convulse around him, making a mess on his cock your release soaking both of you, you feel yourself clench wildly.

“Oh shit baby” He pulls you impossibly close, his hands fly to your ass as if he could get any deeper, you feel his length twitch violently inside of your spent cunt, with a deep thrust his hips meeting yours he reaches his orgasm, ropes of his release painting deep in your insides, you feel him thrust weakly as he rides his high.

“Baby, baby, Y/N, Y/N…” like a secret prayer he just keeps chanting your name again and again, he whispers it against the glistening skin of your chest while you cradle his head in your hands still so close to your heart while you both try to catch your breath.

You wanna stay like this forever, but the sticky mess between your thighs will drive you insane and if you let Joost stay like this any longer he will fall asleep again dragging you down with him still inside you, not like it hasn’t happened before. You pull at the hair on his nape to get his attention.

“We have to shower” He hums in acknowledgment making a super human effort to pull his head from your chest, where he feels so at home, so safe under the sweet rhythm of your heart beat, he looks up languidly placating a yawn as he places a soft kiss on your sternum.

He nods before he starts speaking again “I like this position a lot, you know because your boobs-”.

You cut him off before he can continue. “Yeah, I got it, didn’t need the explanation. Thanks” You say on fake annoyance trying to hide the furious blush on your cheeks, you lift your hips off him with a wince, he lets you use his arms as support while you move, then gets up from the bed and pulls you up after him.

“I’m just saying yeah” He holds you hands to guide you to the bathroom on your shaky legs.

“You always say communication is good for couples” He adds then looks down at you, you roll your eyes at him.

He opens the door to the bathroom and turns around placing a kiss on the top of your head before he turns the shower on. Then after making sure the water is warm enough to your liking, which he personally feels like is being boiled alive, he pulls you under the shower head.

“Got it. Then I think you have a very pretty dick” You say hoping to have him blushing and end this, but no luck.

“See! This is already bringing us closer I can tell” He beams at you proud of himself.

You turn around facing your back to him and he starts pushing shampoo unto your scalp and softly massaging.

“Well I think your pussy is-”

“Okay I am putting a pin in this conversation, it is too early for this” You turn around and kiss him to shut him up, he knows it, but he is just happy to be kissed and smiles against your lips. Day in day out like this with you by his side, there is no greater happiness than have you in his arms, to sleep in your embrace and wake up to your lips, he wishes every day could start just like this forever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚ AN: Streets are saying he is a boobs guy, you can tell how that influenced me right at the end lmao anyways again sorry for any mistakes English is not my first langue <3 And thank u for the comments, asks & dms they make me wanna write more :D 

[sylibane]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Control (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Original Characters, Jesse Faden, Other Characters Mentioned But Not Present Additional Tags: Epistolary, Canon-Typical Violence, Altered Items (Control), Accidental Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canon Compliant, (as much as possible), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, preemptively tagging for violence, expecting things to get nastier in future chapters, Intoxication, Body Horror Summary:

In 2003, a group of kids discovered a birdcage with the ability to make any letter left inside it disappear, supposedly sent to the future. But nobody realized the birdcage’s true power until it was almost too late. In 2019, a pair of low-level FBC employees wait out the Hiss Invasion by sorting through the letters and other documents of the birdcage incident to figure out what happened, only to realize that something is alive in the words. Presented here are the transcripts of their taped conversations, along with the relevant documents of the case.

[prentitssgf]

when someone asks what book im reading but im actually secretly reading the same fanfic trope about the same sapphic couple for the 17th time but i downloaded the fic on my e-reader so i dont look like a loser

[sokoviansimp]

Control

✒ Pairings: dom!wanda x subAgent!femreader

✒ Summary: Tension builds when Wanda and Y/N, who hate each other, are sent on a mission with Y/N's best friend, Natasha, and her wife Maria. The mission doesn't exactly go to plan.

✒ Tags and Warnings: 18+! Mature themes, kidnapping, chemicals, hospital, bickering, enemies to lovers, slow burn

✒ Author's Note: not proofread, because I'm really high rn and want to get this out because it's been in my drafts for like a month but I've been so busy with moving, and working 2 jobs, and just life changes.

✒ Word Count: 9523

✒ Read Time: 24 minutes

Masterlist : Socials : Series Masterlist

The dimly lit, high-tech briefing room at the SHIELD headquarters buzzed with anticipation. Agents of all kinds filled the seats, their eyes trained on the enormous screen at the front. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, stood at the head of the room, her signature poise and confidence emanating from her.

You sat nearby, attention locked onto the screen. You had earned your place among the elite Shield agents through sheer skill and determination, graduating early from the academy. Your sharp mind and lightning-quick reflexes made you one of the best in the business. 

Natasha, after glancing over to her wife, Maria, began the mission briefing. "Our intel suggests that a rogue group of Hydra operatives has obtained a dangerous chemical compound. We need to secure it before they can use it for any nefarious purposes. We’ll be sending a small team in to infiltrate, if all goes to plan we should be in and out within 2 days. Y/N, you’ll partner with Wanda, and Maria will come with me,” Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes and let out a small huff at being paired with you, “The tac team will meet us on day 2 by the south entrance to secure the base. Everyone clear?” Nat finished as she looked around the room to see a bunch of heads bobbing in confirmation. 

Once everyone had filed out, you and Wanda hung back to discuss infiltration plans with Maria and Natasha. Nat explained that the trek to get to the area undetected would take a day, you would sleep at a small cabin safe house on the outskirts of the forest, and then the next day you would stealthily breach the border to the Hydra base and seize control of the chemical before letting the tac team in to finish up. 

“Sounds like a plan, but why do y/n and I have to be partners on this?” Wanda added trying everything she could to get out of being stuck with you by her side. 

“Now, I know you two love to bicker, but we’re all adults here. I’m sure you two can push your differences aside for 2 days.” Natasha explained as she shot Wanda a pointed look. She knew the brunette had her grievances about you and, as much as Nat loved you, she also knew how annoying you could be on the surface, but you two were also the ones Nat trusted most, aside from her wife, to have her six.

“I don’t see that being a problem, do you Wanda?” you confirmed with a smug smirk on your face, knowing you would have ample time to get under Wanda’s skin. Bickering with the brunette was something you would never admit you actually enjoyed, but you did. You loved getting her going and sometimes you could even imagine the smoke blowing out of her ears from how much you drove her crazy. You found herself drawn to Wanda's reactions, the way her cheeks would flush with annoyance, or her lips would curl into a sly smile when she caught on to your teasing. You unknowingly reveled in the attention it garnered from Wanda.

Wanda’s gaze shifted back to the screen as her brows knit tightly together forming a slight furrow in the middle of her forehead, “Guess not, when do we leave” she asked tightly pressing her lips together.

“Wheels up in 30” Nat informed as everyone filed out to pack. 

You leaned against a nearby table, eyeing Wanda as she adjusted her gear. "Wanda, are you sure you're ready for this mission? I mean, it's not as easy as manipulating some red energy."

Wanda shot you a withering look, her scarlet eyes flashing. "Not everything can be solved by punching first and asking questions later, Sprints. Some of us have to use our brains."

Wanda had given you the nickname, Sprints, one day when you were training in the compound with Nat. Shield agents don't typically train at the compound, but your close friendship with Natasha made you an exception. This day, you had been bragging about setting a new in-house record for the 100-meter dash.

You chuckled, unfazed. "Brains, huh? Well, I'm glad one of us has 'em."

Wanda smirked, her accent lacing her words with a hint of sarcasm. "And I'm glad one of us doesn't rely solely on brute force."

You couldn't resist a playful jab. "True, but at least when I hit something, it stays down. Can't say the same for your mind tricks."

Wanda's lips curled into a wry smile. "Wanna test that theory?" she said pointedly as she raised her hand and her magic swirled around in her fingertips. 

Just then, Nat entered breaking up the standoff between you and Wanda, “Knock it off you two, the jet is taking off in 5, get loaded up,” Nat instructed as she watched Wanda walk by you and slightly nudge your shoulder as you innocently raised your hands toward Natasha, “Now.” she said firmly causing you to scurry off with your bag in Wanda’s trail. 

As the quin-jet roared to life, and with Nat and Maria both in the cockpit, you couldn't resist the urge to tease Wanda. You knew how to push the right buttons, and her playful, sometimes very real, annoyance was on full display.

You leaned across the narrow aisle, grinning mischievously at Wanda, who was quietly reading a book on her tablet. "Hey, Wanda," you began, your tone a touch too cheerful, "since we're going up against Hydra today, maybe you can use your mind tricks to make them forget they ever messed with us."

Wanda glanced at her with a bemused expression, clearly unimpressed. "Y/N, my powers don't work that way, and you know it."

Y/N pretended to ponder this for a moment, tapping her chin with a playful smirk. "Hmm, shame. It would've made our job so much easier. But hey, don't worry. I'm sure you'll find some other way to be useful."

Wanda sighed, shaking her head as she shifted her focus back to her book. She was clearly unamused by your antics.

As the quin-jet touched down in a remote area, nearly 10 miles from their target location, the four of you gathered your gear and prepared to embark on your covert trek. The evening was closing in quickly and with the loss of the sun, it would start getting cold soon.

Natasha, the team leader, huddled the group together for a final briefing. "Remember, we need to reach the cabin undetected. This is a highly secured area, and any alert could jeopardize the mission. Y/N and Wanda, I need you two to put your differences aside and work together. Our success depends on it." 

Y/N exchanged a begrudging glance with Wanda but nodded in agreement. "Got it, Nat. I'll try not to annoy Wanda too much."

Wanda rolled her eyes but remained silent, her focus on the task at hand.

The team set out on their trek, moving silently through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the fallen leaves and underbrush. Y/N and Wanda found themselves side by side, each step of the way requiring them to cooperate and coordinate their movements to avoid detection.

Every now and then, an armored personnel carrier would drive by causing the team to utilize nearby ravines, trenches, and coves to avoid detection. At one point, they hid out in a culvert for a few minutes waiting for the oncoming trail of vehicles to pass. A crinkling sound eventually made its way to Wanda’s ears and her head snapped to you as you tore open a granola bar, “Really, is now the best time for that?” Wanda whispered, trying to keep quiet as she scolded you, “Oh yes, you do not want to see me when I’m hangry,” you quietly responded as Natasha hushed you both to keep quiet. 

Despite your earlier banter and rivalry, you and Wanda fell into a rhythm as you navigated the challenging terrain. You took point, your sharp instincts and knowledge of the wilderness guiding the path. Wanda, with her enhanced senses, scanned for any signs of danger or hidden threats.

As you moved deeper into the night, the initial tension between the two of you began to dissipate. You began communicating with subtle gestures and exchanged information about the terrain and possible obstacles. Gradually, a sense of unity began to form between you two, as you realized that your success truly depended on your ability to work together.

Hours passed, and the mission team finally arrived at the remote cabin where they would be staying for the night. Nat and Maria thoroughly cleared it to make sure there were no unexpected guests. Once it was clear, you and Wanda made your way in. The cabin was rustic, with only two bedrooms, and it quickly became apparent that accommodations would be tight.

Natasha and Maria, who were married, naturally gravitated toward one of the bedrooms and claimed it as their own. They exchanged a knowing look, then turned to the rest of the team.

Wanda, ever the enigmatic one, made her preferences clear with a cool, unwavering stare. "I'm not sharing a room with Y/N," she stated firmly.

Realizing the implications, you tried to defuse the situation. "No problem, Wanda. I can sleep on the couch or even on the floor. It's not a big deal."

But Natasha, always the pragmatic leader, stepped in. "Actually, it is a big deal. We need both of you at your best tomorrow. We can't afford any tension or lack of rest. You two are sharing the other bed, there’s plenty of room."

Wanda's lips formed a thin line of irritation, but Natasha's word was final. She begrudgingly agreed, her tone laced with annoyance. "Fine, but I'm taking the left side of the bed."

You nodded following Wanda to the other room, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "Works for me, Wanda. I promise not to steal the covers."

With the sleeping arrangements decided, the team settled into their respective rooms, though the atmosphere in the second bedroom was palpably tense. You and Wanda each occupying your respective sides with a noticeable gap between. Tension hung in the air, and you both lay stiffly under the covers, each determined not to give an inch.

The initial discomfort led to a silent battle for the covers. Your fingers twitched slightly as you subtly attempted to pull the blanket your way. Wanda, sensing the movement, tightened her grip on the fabric. This quiet tug-of-war continued for a while, neither of you willing to relinquish control.

But as time passed, exhaustion began to take its toll. The temperature in the room dropped, and the comfort of the covers became increasingly irresistible. Unbeknownst to either of you, both of you gradually drifted into a fitful slumber, with both your subconscious minds seeking warmth and comfort.

In the dead of night, your bodies shifted ever so slightly. In your sleep, you unconsciously turned toward Wanda, your back now touching Wanda's side. Wanda, still asleep, feeling the unexpected contact, hesitated for a moment but soon found herself subconsciously gravitating closer to your warmth.

Your movements continued to synchronize in the depths of sleep. Slowly but surely, the gap between you vanished as you instinctively nestled into each other. Your arm draped over Wanda's waist, and Wanda's head nestled into the crook of your neck. The covers you had fought over earlier now cocooning you both, providing warmth and security.

Though you had started the night as adversaries, the quiet intimacy of your subconscious movements told a different story. In the stillness of the cabin, with the moonlight filtering through the curtains, you and Wanda had found an unexpected source of comfort in each other's presence. It was as if you two were pieces in a puzzle that fit perfectly with one another as your exhaustion-riddled bodies melded together after a long day. 

The morning sun filtered through the cabin's curtains, casting a warm and gentle glow across the room. As you and Wanda began to stir, you each gradually became aware of your compromising position. Your bodies were entangled, limbs intertwined, and faces mere inches apart.

For a brief moment, your eyes fluttered open and met Wanda’s gaze, your heartbeat picked up nearly drowning out any source of sound for you as your cheeks reddened, you knew you should want to move, should be upset, but you froze like a deer in headlights, like if you stayed still then she wouldn’t notice and would stay as well. For a moment, you enjoyed the comfort of the witch’s grasp. That was quickly replaced by your mutual disdain from the previous night as the tension resurfaced with the disgusted look Wanda shot over to you. You locked eyes, both startled by the proximity and the realization of how closely you had been clinging to each other in your sleep.

Wanda quickly pulled away, her cheeks coloring slightly with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She shifted to her side of the bed and cleared her throat, avoiding your gaze. "This is... not how I expected to wake up."

Equally flustered, you hastily withdrew your arm and adjusted your position to sit on the edge of the bed, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly my ideal morning either."

The tension that had momentarily dissipated during the night returned in full force. Both of you were acutely aware of the compromising position you had awoken in, and it only served to highlight your ongoing rivalry and mutual discomfort.

As you both jumped to get out of bed and prepared for the day ahead, your distaste for each other remained palpable. The events of the night had not erased your differences or any of the underlying tension, and you were both eager to put some distance between each other and the uncomfortable intimacy you had experienced in your sleep. Was it really uncomfortable though? You couldn’t deny, it was the best you had slept in weeks. No, it was. Just remembering the look of pure disgust on Wanda’s face puts the bad taste right back in your mouth.

“You two are up early, figured I’d have to come in clanging some pans the way you two like to sleep in.” Nat teased as you and Wanda entered the kitchen, “How’d you sleep?” 

“Goo-” you began but were cut off but the louder brunette beside you, “TERRIBLE” she groaned in response, not wanting to re-live what she woke up to. 

Nat glanced at Y/N knowingly, “What was that, Y/N?” she continued to tease as she poured the coffee that she had just made into 2 mugs in front of her for each of you. 

“Yea, grossly bad. Just- what she said” you stammered to get out, trying to remember what exactly was so bad about it. Then you remembered the look on Wanda’s face full of disgust again, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty that she felt that way toward you. 

Once you were all geared up and ready to leave the cabin, Natasha went over the plan one more time before you all stealthily headed back out into the forest. The weak spot that you were looking to infiltrate was about 5 miles from the cabin and you thanked whatever gods may exist that it wasn't winter yet. The air was cold against your cheeks, enough to tinge them a slight red from the wind burn, but not so frigid that you were shivering or unable to focus. 

Wanda, on the other hand, curled in on herself any chance she could in order to keep warm and ward off the shivers that threatened to take over her body. As you were waiting in another culvert for a line of trucks to pass by, you noticed from the way Wanda was curled up that she was struggling. Knowing you could survive without the jacket you were wearing, you went to offer it to the witch, “Cold?” you whispered softly and placed your hand on her shoulder to get her attention from behind. 

Her eyes snapped over to meet your gaze and she pulled her arm away from your touch like you were a deadly disease, “I’m fine,” she whispered back icy and dismissive, making a mental note to hide her discomfort better. Her disgust for you was clear, little did she know, you were only trying to help.

Taken aback by her response, your initial concern became clouded with frustration. All you wanted to do was see her light up in your direction and yet everything you did caused her to hate you more. If she’s going to act this way, may as well give her a reason. Two can play this game, “Oh right, I forgot you’re made of tougher skin than the rest of us peasants,” you mocked, keeping your tone low so as to not give up your position. 

The look that Wanda shot back your way sent shivers down your spine, “Should’ve come more prepared, like me,” you say flaunting your jacket and digging the metaphorical knife deeper as Nat waved an ‘all clear’ signal.

“There it is,” Wanda snapped back at you,  “every chance you get to be a coc-“ Natasha cut Wanda off, silencing her, before she could finish her point.

You caught Wanda’s gaze as it happened and pointed at your ears tauntingly. Her jaw tightened and her anger brewed as she continued to move through the culvert, following Nat and Maria’s lead.

As the team made its way out of the culvert and trekked along the route, you noticed Wanda was no longer shivering, all the pent-up anger toward you providing her warmth that would last at least a couple of minutes as you smirked to yourself.

Once inside, Natasha and Maria took point in clearing a path and disabling guards with precision and stealth. You and Wanda had been tasked with obtaining the chemical agent that had been noted on the radar. The crucial task brought you both further into the facility, and as much as you each had trouble being in one another’s presence, you put your differences aside to work well as a team.

As you moved deeper into enemy territory, you settled back into the unspoken language of signals you had used the previous day together. Wanda was easily able to disable the camera feeds with her telekinesis while you took out any remaining guards and covered your tracks.

Soon enough, you both came to a secure-looking door, its lock was intricate and seemed heavily fortified with barometric readings and sensors. Without hesitation, Wanda focused her energy on the lock’s mechanism, using her powers to manipulate the gears and pins. You had her back, keeping watch on the corrodor, as she fell vulnerable to an attack from behind with her mind focused elsewhere.

A stray guard came out of a room down the hall making his way in your direction as he began to yell and pull out his gun, “Don’t lose focus Wanda, I got your back,” you assured her as you swiftly disabled the guard. As much as Wanda may hate you, she knew deep down that she could trust you and kept her focus on the door.

Once you settled back beside Wanda, you couldn’t help but let out a snarky comment as she was otherwise engaged with her powers, “You know, Wanda, it’s almost like having magic hands comes in handy on a mission like this,” 

Wanda shot you a side-eye glance with just a hint of a smirk on her lips, “Oh, so now you like my powers, huh?”

Grinning, you responded, “Let’s just say, I’m starting to see the perks.”

With that, Wanda was finally able to get the door lock to yield to her magic and open up. With the granted entry, you both slipped into the room beyond, only to be met with dozens of eyes from scientists working in the lab you just entered, “What’s up fellas, I heard you’ve been playing with a new toy,”

The scientists, startled by the sudden intrusion, immediately recognized the threat and reacted swiftly. They shouted in alarm as you charged at them causing one of them to activate a security alarm, triggering a set of reinforced doors to slam shut, attempting to neutralize the largest threat they saw, Wanda.

Before she could react, you pushed her out of the way, finding yourself locked inside a sealed chamber, cut off from Wanda and the rest of the room. Panic coursed through your veins as you realized the predicament. Seeing that you’re in no position to look out for Wanda any longer, you began pounding on the glass door, shouting for her to get out, but the scientists weren’t done quite yet.

In a desperate bid to incapacitate you, originally Wanda, and prevent any further interference, one of the scientists had activated an aerosol dispenser in the sealed chamber. A fine mist of the chemical agent you had been tasked with retrieving filled the air around you. All you could do was gasp as the toxic substance began to take effect. Desperately trying to hold your breath and shield yourself from exposure, your focus shifted from escape to self-preservation. Your skin became overrun with a dark crystalized rash, similar to obsidian growing like a vine on the side of an unkept building, scaling up and down your arms as it spread out. 

On the other side of the sealed door, Wanda fought to free you from your captors, her powers surging as she attempted to disable the security measures and reach you as quickly as possible. She knew the amount of time it would take her to break through the mechanism would be fatal for you, so she desperately took to screaming at the scientists to unlock the door and sending a wave of magic knocking them against the wall when they wouldn't cooperate. The scientists, however, were determined to keep you separated and eliminate the threat they posed to their operation. The mission had taken a treacherous turn, and you were left alone in a race against time to survive the effects of the chemical while Wanda fought desperately to save you. 

As the seconds flew by, your vision grew hazy and Wanda knew you were reaching critical condition as the rash spread to your face. When brute force failed, she surged into the minds of the scientists standing before her to figure out how to disable the chamber. Once she was deep enough within their mind to bend their bodies to her will, she was finally able to free you.

As soon as the doors opened to allow Wanda to reach you, she rushed in without a second thought, her magic almost working subconsciously to move whatever was left of the chemical in the air. You laid on the floor hanging onto any bit of consciousness you could grasp onto as you faded in and out, just hoping to make it out alive. 

The witch scooped you up and darted for the exit, “Nat, we have an emergency situation here. Need medical evac NOW!” Wanda said over the comms. Her sprint turned into a quick glide through the air as she found it easier and quicker to let her magic take you both through the base and toward the exit. 

“Roger that, contacted HQ for the tac team and medical. 10 minutes out.” Nat responded, “What hap-” 

“Fuck- 10 minutes? I don’t know if she has that long,” Wanda responded with worry, as she looked down at you shaking in pain as you drifted in and out of awareness, “Y/N, hey look at me, can you hear me?” Wanda spoke gently but with urgency, as you met her gaze briefly before your eyes rolled back slightly in a blur, “Medical is on the way, you just need to hold out for 10 minutes, I’m going to get you there, just- hang on” Wanda stated as her grip on you tightened and her magic quickened in pace. 

Within minutes, Wanda met up with a medical team that arrived on the scene. They assessed your condition and quickly realized the severity of the situation. You were unconscious, struggling to breathe, and not only displaying signs of chemical poisoning but also a rash they had never seen before.

Working together, Wanda and the medical team carefully stabilized your condition as best they could on-site. They administered oxygen and provided preliminary treatment to counteract the effects of the chemical agent.

Recognizing the urgency of the situation, the medical team made the critical decision to transfer you to a nearby hospital equipped to handle chemical exposure cases. They carefully loaded you onto a gurney and rushed you onto an awaiting helicopter.

During the tense journey to the hospital, Wanda rode alongside you holding her hand and offering silent reassurance, while Nat and Maria stayed back to work with the tactical team. The situation remained dire, but they were doing everything they could to give you the best chance of survival.

At the hospital, a team of specialized medical professionals took over your care, working tirelessly to detoxify your system and stabilize your condition. The chemical exposure had taken a toll on your body, and even after all this time, your prognosis remained uncertain.

Wanda, exhausted and fraught with worry, refused to leave your side. As if every reason she had to hate you flew out the window, she was determined to stand by her partner throughout this ordeal, hoping and praying for your recovery. 

Wanda was pulled from her spiraling thoughts in the waiting room as she heard a nurse utter, “She’s stable,” in a very neutral tone, so neutral that maWanda was unsure if it was actually good news, “but she’s not out of the woods yet.” she warned as she motioned for Wanda to follow her in to be by your side once again. 

The brunette stood to follow, “Is she awake?” 

The nurse shook her head, mentioning that she doesn’t expect you to wake up for at least 12 hours. They needed to ensure that your body has flushed out the toxin before allowing it to exert any more energy. 

Wanda took the seat by your bed and notified Natasha of the situation. She was hopeful, knowing you're a fighter, and Wanda tried to be optimistic as well, “It should’ve been me, Nat,” Wanda stated full of guilt and regret. Nat did her best to assure Wanda that she would’ve done the same and your situation was in no way her fault. Deep down, she wonders if she actually would’ve done the same. 

“You better wake up, Sprints, or I swear. How dare y- why do you have to be the best at everything?” She sighed as her body trembled and a tear spilled from her eyelid.

After two long and agonizing days of unconsciousness, you finally began to stir in the hospital bed. Your vision was hazy at first, and you struggled to regain full awareness but as your senses gradually sharpened, you slowly became aware of the sterile hospital room that surrounded you.

The first thing you noticed was Wanda, sitting by your bedside. As your eyes met Wanda’s, your heart skipped a beat, you could see her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and relief. It was unlike her, but you couldn't help but smile weakly, your voice hoarse as you croaked out a greeting. "Hey there."

Wanda's expression softened, and she reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "You're awake," she replied, her relief evident in her voice until it starkly changed to anger, almost like a mask, “Don't ever do that again!” she warned, brows furrowing.

“Wow, not even a thank you.” you teased as Wanda bit back to reiterate, “I’m serious y/n, I could’ve protected myself.”

“Yeah, but I protected us both,” you snarkily replied letting the brunette build up steam as you dug further.

“Protected? You almost got yourself killed, for nothing! God you're insufferable!” she exclaimed, not even wanting to be in the room with you anymore. Remembering just how annoying it is to even hold a conversation with you.

“Didn’t realize you cared,” 

As your eyes continued to scan the room, you spotted Natasha and Maria entering the room with a tray of coffee and snacks, “Coffee anyone? Oh Y/N, you're awake!” 

You smiled in response as Nat took the coffee from her wife with a smile, letting the tension built between you and Wanda disipate as they took over the conversation. 

“You gave us quite the scare there, y/n,” Nat noted, as much as she worried for you, she knew you were a fighter with the best medical team in the country. 

“Aw, you were worried?” You teased, knowing Nat to always keep a stone cold exterior to most, only letting ones that she was close to, like you, really get to see her emotions. 

“Not one bit,” she lied and everyone in the room knew.

As Nat and Maria took over the conversation, Wanda sat there brewing. Not only could she not understand the emotions she was feeling for you, but they just kept brewing as he sat in silence. Anger, relief, annoyance, worry, it all swam around in a confusion pool of questions. Her abrupt departure was without a word and you looked to Nat as she left, “Guess she’s tapped out on me for the day,”

Nat knew that you and Wanda had a rocky relationship but she felt that the brunettes behavior was quite uncalled for given the circumstances, “mm, I’ll talk to her,” Nat hummed as she got up to leave the room in pursuit of Wanda.

“And then there were two,” you joked with Maria. 

Nat found Wanda in the hallway walking toward the exit of the hospital, she was headed back to the cabin as that’s where the 3 of them have been staying while you were stuck in a foreign hospital until you were ready to be transferred back to New York, “What the fuck was that?” Nat aggressively shouted in Wanda’s direction. 

Wanda quickly snapped her head around to the familiar voice, eyes landing on the angry Russian, “Not now Nat, please.” She dismissed as she stayed on her path. 

“No, Wanda, you don’t get to pick and choose. Y/N was practically on her deathbed to save you and this is how you want to act? What’s so terrible that you can’t even spend more than 5 minutes with her?”

“I didn’t need her to save me, she just made it all even more,” Wanda paused before bursting out, “DIFFICULT!” 

Nat could tell this was about more than just getting you to safety after the mission. She knew Wanda had dealt with a lot and always had a hard time getting her emotions in check. Instead of pressing further, she decided to switch up the metaphorical cards in her hands, “well all she wanted was to make sure you were safe.” With that, Nat turned to head back to your room. Wanda stood there watching her walk away, knowing she was right.

Before Wanda could decide what to do next the ground began to shake. It was subtle at first but soon, the items lining the walls and the structure of the building began to tremble along with it. Nat turned back to Wanda, who was still standing behind her, “Is that you?” She raised her brow, knowing the answer would be no, but hoping that it was by chance as that would make their job much easier. 

Wanda shook her head, confusion written all over her face as Nat turned again in the direction of your room in a full sprint, Wanda following Nat’s lead closely behind. Nat easily put the pieces together that the chemical agent you were exposed to would have effects that they could not predict. 

When they made it to your room, they were met with Maria trying to calm you down as you shook and writhed on the bed in pain. Your skin felt like it had just been dipped in lava causing your temperature to rise so much that you could visibly see a slight red tint on your face. Inside was arguably even worse as the uncontrollable shivers caused you to feel lightheaded and nauseous. 

Nat tried calling for a doctor through the hallways as the building began shaking even more. The worse your condition became, the more aggravated the building shook. They had to do something before the hospital filled with hundreds of innocent people became rubble. Wanda came to the side of your bed opposite Maria, shock prominent on her features as she watched you squirm, not knowing how to help. 

Maria could tell that Wanda was struggling with how to help, honestly, she didn't know exactly what to do either, but she did know that they had to get the building to stop shaking, and she was sure with Wanda’s magic, they would be able to help you somehow, “We have to neutralize the seismic waves emitting from her somehow,” Maria told Wanda as she kept her eyes on you, trying to figure out a solution. 

With that, Wanda was snapped out of the frozen state she was in as her eyes lit up red and she dove into your mind, trying to get answers. Near instantly her body began to tremble as a whimper fell from her mouth at the pain that radiated from you, “Y/N you have to calm down, the whole building is about to collapse”

“I’m not doing anything,” your thoughts fighting to make sense of the situation, “I-I can't control it! H-HURTS!”

Wanda’s balance faltered as the building’s shaking became more intense, her grip on the railing of your hospital bed tightened, and it became clear to her that her best option was to sedate you. She reached her hands toward your temple and let the red tendrils of her magic flow freely toward your skin as they rooted themselves within your mind. Taking hold and lulling you into a calm state of peaceful sleep. Slowly but surely, the building stood still again and soon after, a doctor came in to assess the situation. 

“About time,” Natasha spat with clear irritation towards the doctor.

Wanda, felt a growing unease as Dr. Scholt entered the room. His icy, judgmental gaze fell onto you as he began to examine your medical chart and machines. It was clear to Wanda that his discomfort with powered individuals was not something he could easily hide.

Ignoring Nat’s comment, Dr. Scholt made his way over to assess your condition eventually swaying from their original plan of keeping you until you were stable enough to be transferred, “I've seen too many of their kind, causing nothing but chaos and destruction. We don't have the resources to deal with creatures like this in our hospitals,” unaware that one of the most powerful enhanced individuals was standing right beside him, his disdain for you was clear with his tone and judgmental words. 

With a mixture of anger and concern, Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and her voice carried a hint of impatience as she retorted, "We're here because we need medical assistance, Doctor, not a lecture. Y/N's condition is the priority, and I expect her to receive the same care as any other patient. Your personal opinions have no place in a hospital room."

Before the doctor had the chance to respond, Wanda cut in, “No, it’s fine. He made his stance awfully clear,” she quarreled with a head tilt toward the doctor before turning back to Natasha, “We’ll take it from here,” 

“Great, I’ll get her prepped for transport,” the doctor mentioned as he attempted to grab sedatives to administer to you for the ride. However, Wanda wasn’t going to let him or his team lay another finger on you after the display he just made, knowing even from his thoughts, that his ill intentions may get the better of him. 

Before he left the room, Wanda caught his attention, “Maybe I wasn’t clear, Adam,” refusing to use his doctorate title, “we will take it from here.” she precisely articulated in a sharp manner, “Our transport team is on the way, You and your team are not to lay another finger on Agent y/l/n. Are we clear?” she flared, starring daggers into his soul. 

“How do you know my name?” he bit back as if that was the most important thing that Wanda said. 

“Are we clear?” Wanda repeated, without any explanation for the extra information. The doctor quickly took the hint as he nodded and scurried out of the room.

Wanda’s gaze shifted to meet Nat’s gaze who stood by the door as she watched the doctor walk past her to leave the room, “All that for someone you hate, can’t imagine what you're like when you actually like somebody,” she teased. 

“I don’t hate her,” Wanda defended as she tried to hide the growing smirk on her face, “She’s just the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” she added to keep her position on you clear and she couldn’t have anyone thinking she likes you in the slightest, “But he wanted to do more to her than prep her for transport,” She informed the two other agents that stood with her in the room around your bed. 

“Well, Y/N’s lucky to have you in her corner, once Fury hears about this, Mr. Sholt can kiss his doctorate goodbye,” Maria reassured as she took a seat beside your bed to wait for the transport team to arrive in a couple hours. 

Once SHIELD’S medical team arrived, they administered sedatives to keep you unconscious during the flight and prepared you for the jet before you woke up. Wanda was instructed to be by your side as an extra precaution, in case you somehow woke up or your unhinged powers started going haywire in your sleep. 

The ride back was tame with no real issues, at one point Wanda could sense your consciousness creeping back in but she was able to quickly lull you back to comatose with her magic. Once the jet landed, they quickly got you set up in the med bay at the compound in Upstate New York. This was not typical protocol for the team. Since you were not an Avenger and merely a Shield agent, proper protocol would be to take you to the medical facilities at SHIELD headquarters. Natasha wouldn’t allow that to happen though, under her authority, she made sure you were overseen by the best team available and close enough to keep watch on.

In a matter of hours, the team ran all the tests they deemed necessary, concluding that the chemicals you came into contact with ignited something that laid dormant in your DNA. The gene acted as a sponge for the toxins, without it, the poison would’ve continued to spread and shut down every part of your body slowly and painfully. Instead, the contagion was absorbed into the gene strand, which was subsequently sent into its next phase. Without the toxin, this gene could’ve laid dormant within you forever, instead, it entered a new stage, triggering your new abilities. 

“Was anyone else in contact with this chemical?” Dr Cho asked out of an abundance of caution, knowing that if they had been, they probably wouldn’t be in such good condition.

Nat looked to Wanda for a response, knowing she was the one in the room with you when it was released. Wanda’s gaze fell to the floor for a brief second before she began, “No, they meant to expose me but Y/N pushed me out of the way,” Wanda explained as she recalled the events from a couple of days prior. 

Dr. Cho nodded slightly in acknowledgment before responding “It’s a good thing Y/N was the one affected by this in all honesty. Without running tests, there’s no way to know whether the rest of the team has the gene structure to survive such an attack. She got real lucky,” Dr. Cho explained as she went over the results of the tests. 

Wanda struggled with this internally. Part of her was thankful things unfolded the way they did because if they hadn't the situation could've been a lot worse, but the other part twisted it to figure that you must have just been trying to 1-up her. You never do anything nice without something in it for yourself, at least in her eyes. This wasn’t anything new when it came to the way she thought about you. It was often that your intentions were competitive and came off abrasive, but she tended to use that model of thought for anything you did in her presence. Shaking every bit of sincerity off for a hidden agenda, and refusing to see any good in you. Deep down, maybe she didn’t want to see the good in you, it was so much easier to be closed off. Afraid that once she starts to unravel you, she’ll have no more walls to hide behind. No more armor to keep her from falling for you, to keep her safe from the pain she’s always known to follow. So, she doesn't think too deeply about it, instead, she lets her thoughts protect her. 

It was easier for her to paint you as an asshole than to deal with the mixed emotions she felt for you. Blaming everything on your lack of empathy acted almost as a shield for her, enabling her to bury other emotions so deep that she could forget about them. After replaying the events over and over in her head on a loop, she was able to spin the story in her head and concluded that you must’ve known about your genetics. You had to go through genetic testing to be a field operative with such high clearance, surely that’s how you knew. So the only reason you even pushed her out of the way was to look like the hero, to make it look like she needed saving, knowing full well you’d make it out just fine. Ugh, you’re the worst. 

With that, it was like a switch in Wanda flipped. As if her emotions were immediately shut off, she stopped visiting you at the medbay and was happy to go about her daily life without a care in the world of your condition. 

You spent the next few weeks recovering. Natasha was by your side every step of the way, acutely aware of who visited you and who didn’t. Wanda never did. Tony came by a few times, you two weren't very close but he felt the need to show face at least. With nothing much to talk about, Tony always defaulted to talking about work when he was nervous. He didn’t find himself in too many situations without anything to say, but when he did, he attempted to claim the room with his confidence as he always had in his career. Almost as a nervous tik, he defaulted to talking about things that he knew a great deal about, even if the people around him didn’t. 

To his surprise, you were easily able to keep up with his shop talk jargon and follow along with the schematics he propped open as examples. The two of you quickly began bonding over your love for science and math. Nat noticed the uptick in visits from Stark and was happy to see you making more connections with the people she called family. 

Some of the other Avengers made their way down to the medbay as well after Nick encouraged it in a meeting. He knew how good of an agent you were, following your progress ever since word spread about you during your time at SHIELD Academy. It was practically unheard of for an Agent to graduate early, only 2 had ever done it before you. Since then, he made sure to check up on your progress every few months, hoping you’d grow into a top agent so he could use you on one of his special teams. With your new onset of abilities, he figured that eventually, you’d fit right in as a new addition to the Avengers. 

Fury rarely leaves anything to chance though, including your development. In order to get you comfortable with your newfound abilities, you’d need a mentor. Someone who has gone through a transition like yours before. After giving it some thought, there was only one other person on the team who could relate to you in that sense. 

Thor, while he did have to prove he was worthy to his father and himself in order to unlock his full potential, his powers always belonged to him. There was nothing unexpected or confusing about it. He has always wielded his power with knowledge and confidence. Similarly, Steve’s transition was also foreseen and he was able to quickly and seamlessly get a hold of his powers. 

Bruce on the other hand, still struggles to keep the beast inside of him under control. While he may be able to relate to the situation you’re currently experiencing, he wouldn’t be the right fit to mentor you with the way he is still trying to figure things out for himself. 

It was clear that Wanda could relate to your situation most closely. While she may have volunteered in the experiments carried out by Hydra, the outcome was something she never could’ve expected. For a while, she struggled to come to terms with what her body was capable of. Fearing that she would lose control and hurt someone unintentionally, and deep down the fear always lingers, but she has learned how to control it; and while she may not believe it herself, her team trusts her and her ability to keep her powers in check. 

Fury knew the two of you were far from besties, but he hoped this mentorship could double as a bonding experience to help get you more acclimated to the team. Wanda would need to get used to you being around more often, whether she was okay with it or not, he hoped this could help nudge her in the direction of welcoming the transition. 

“No. Not a chance in hell.” Wanda argued as she stood from the chair opposite Fury in his office. Nick didn’t offer a reaction, instead, he kept his face neutral and waited for Wanda to come to terms with the arrangement. 

Noticing that Fury was not giving in, Wanda broke the silence to add, “Why me? I have nothing to teach her, she’s insufferable. This seems like more of a Rodger’s job.”

“The arrangement isn’t negotiable, Maximoff. Y/N has a lot to learn from you and I’m sure you’ll be a great teacher once she’s back on her feet.” Wanda scoffed, anger beating off her, as she went to leave the meeting.

“Oh, one more thing,” Nick added causing the brunette to pause and turn by the door, “Y/N will not know about this arrangement of ours, and I intend to keep it that way, are we clear?” without giving a clear response, Wanda rolled her eyes and stormed off to the gym, wanting to let her anger out on something meant to be hit before she ended up taking it out on the nearest wall.. “Oh, and I expect an influx of visits from you to the medbay!” He shouted towards her retreating form down the hall.

Straight from Fury’s office, she stormed into the gym with a palpable aura of frustration and anger. Her usually calm and composed demeanor had given way to an agitated energy that practically crackled in the air around her.

Nat, who happened to be in the gym working on her own training routine, turned her head as she sensed Wanda's arrival. The room seemed to darken with Wanda's stormy presence, and Natasha knew that something had clearly set her off.

Wanda didn't waste a moment. She approached one of the punching bags, her eyes flashing with a mix of determination and anger. Without saying a word, she unleashed a series of powerful punches and kicks that sent the heavy bag swinging wildly.

Wanda's frustration reverberated through the gym as she relentlessly pummeled the punching bag, each strike carrying the weight of her annoyance. The ferocity of her strikes was a clear indication of her irritation. Natasha, noticing the intensity of Wanda's training session, decided it was time to address the obvious tension. Wanda's training strikes were powerful and precise, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.

Once Nat felt that Wanda had gotten out her initial anger, she approached her friend cautiously, waiting for a break in the flurry of punches before speaking. She knew better than anyone that sometimes words were not enough, and physical exertion was the only way to cope with intense emotions, "Wanda, what's going on?" Natasha asked, her tone laced with concern as she held the opposite side of the punching bag sturdy for Wanda to continue laying on punches.

“Fury.” She growled, “He wants me to.” *PUNCH* “mentor y/n” *PUNCH* “he won’t let” *PUNCH* “Steve do it.” *PUNCH* “He wouldn’t listen” *PUNCH* “ugh!” the punching finally stopped as she left a hand on the punching bag for balance while she caught her breath.

Natasha peeked around the bag that she held steady for Wanda to give her opinion, trying to approach with caution, knowing Wanda wouldn't like what she had to say. 

Natasha didn’t know what triggered it, but she noticed the stark change in the way Wanda went from caring about you in the foreign hospital to completely shutting herself off from you as soon as you got back to New York. 

Nat took a step back from the bag to gather her thoughts, “Let me get this straight, you’re throwing a fit because the girl who just saved your life is going through life-changing trauma right now and Fury is asking you to help her through it because you have experience and have been through a similar situation?” with one eyebrow slightly raised, she shot Wanda a pointed glare. 

With her frustration rebuilding as she processed Nat’s words, Wanda pushed the bag away and turned toward the door, “Oh, here we go again. Poor Y/N she’s always the victim,” Wanda marched toward the door, not wanting to hear another person defend you. In her eyes, you were conniving and everything you did was calculated, other people just couldn't see past your charm to expose how much you actually tormented her. They couldn’t see how she was so clearly the victim in this circumstance. They couldn't see how twisted you made everything. She could though, she saw right through you. 

Nat wasn’t letting her get off that easy. She chased after the brunette trying to storm out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to be face to face. Against her own desire, Wanda’s feet stayed planted to see what Nat had to say. 

“Are you serious? You two may not be friends, but she saved your fucking life. She was there for you, the least you could do is offer her some support and show a sliver of gratitude! You need to take a good hard look at yourself, this isn’t the Wanda I know.” Nat scolded 

Seething, Wanda bit back through gritted teeth, “I didn’t ask her to.” without giving Natasha the opportunity to speak, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the gym. 

Natasha stood there nearly dumbfounded, wondering what had gotten into Wanda to make her so heartless and cruel towards you. 

From the gym, instead of wallowing alone in her room, Wanda decides to leave the compound for a walk around the grounds. As she walked alone with her own thoughts, she desperately tried to calm the anger within. Spending more time with you was the last thing she wanted to do, especially after coming to the conclusion that your heroic act was just a ruse. 

As she strolled, she went through countless scenarios for ways that she could get out of this whole situation. There wasn’t a single one that she thought was good enough to change Fury’s mind. 

What if I broke my hand? No, I'm sure he’d still make me teach her. What if the compound mysteriously caught fire? That would probably only delay things. What if there was an Avenger’s level threat? He’d probably just make me do it when I got back. What if I became evil and left the Avengers to take over the world or something? That could work, though it’s a bit dramatic and I don't even want to take over the world.

Knowing that Nat was on your side about this already told her that everyone else at the compound would share Fury’s opinion. Out of the whole team, Nat was the one most likely to take Wanda’s side for anything. She always knew that if Natasha’s opinion differed on a subject, the others were bound to as well.

Wanda took the rest of the day to decompress and attempt to accept that she’d have to mentor you. The next day during breakfast, she heard Tony and Thor mention they’d be visiting you once they finished their meal. Knowing she’d have to see you eventually, Wanda’s ears perked at the opportunity to tag along and not go alone, “Can I come?” Wanda’s eagerness came as a shock to the two men sitting across the counter from her, but also to everyone else within earshot who wasn’t involved in the conversation. 

“Come to see y/n?” Tony clarified, not sure if Wanda had heard them correctly but she nodded in confirmation, “ye- yea of course.” he confirmed, surprised Wanda had any interest in visiting you.

The hum of medical equipment filled the medbay as Tony and Thor entered, their presence bringing a dynamic shift to the room. You were still in the process of recovery, looking up with a mixture of surprise and gratitude as the two Avengers approached and Wanda trailed behind. She didn’t say anything as the two of them greeted you, and instead, she took the furthest seat in the room from your bed. 

Tony, always one for theatrics, struck a dramatic pose. "Fear not, citizens! Iron Man and the God of Thunder have arrived to grace you with our formidable presence."

Thor chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Indeed! We heard tell of a valiant warrior in need of cheering, and so we have descended."

You couldn't help but smile at their playful entrance, a welcome distraction from the monotony of the medbay. However, as the three of you continued the banter, Wanda lingered at the periphery, sitting leaned back with her arms crossed and a subtle expression of indifference on her face.

Not letting her get away with sneaking in unnoticed, you broke the silence that lingered between the two of you, “Wasn’t expecting you to be here, Wanda. Did someone force you to be here or something?” You saw right through her, but before she could lie through gritted teeth and say that she was there of her own volition, Tony spoke up instead, “Believe it or not, she actually asked us to come,” Tony defended. 

Riding along Tony’s explanation, Wanda forced a smile to sell it. She was grateful that he had beat her to it, she was never much good at lying. You weren’t fully convinced that there wasn’t some underlying explanation for her presence but you accepted it with an impressed look on your face, “Wow, no hidden agenda?”

“Actually there is one,” Wanda clarified as she began to explain, “I’m going to mentor you.”

“Mentor?” You were taken aback. Why was Wanda suddenly interested in mentoring you and what made her think you wanted to be her mentee?

“Yeap, we’ve both been through similar experiences and you have a lot to learn about controlling your new powers,” she added with passive aggressiveness dripping from her words. 

You wanted to question her further, but you also didn’t want to push her to rescind her offer. Truthfully, you were kind of excited at the thought of Wanda teaching you how to wield your newfound abilities. You knew that she went through a similar situation while she was with Hydra and the thought of spending more time with her, though you would never admit it, made you excited, “oh- okay.” you accepted. 

Wanda expected more of a fight with you about this but was relieved to get it over with easily.

“How exciting,” Thor announced, “I know a thing or two about using powers myself if you need help or anything.”

“I’ll be sure to give you a call if I find a magical hammer,” you teased making the other two chuckle. 

Taglist: @marvelogic @esposadejoyhuerta @ju-maxi89 @gingiesworld @simpforlizzie @bigbattygyal585 @cakechan123 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[blindmagdalena]

Guilty Pleasures ( chapter two )

18+ 3.8k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, lite somnophilia, breaking & entering, petty theft, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 2/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is the most powerful man in the world, and all he wants is to be yours.

After spending the majority of your evening and the following morning anticipating being fired, walking into work the next day feels like traversing a thinly frozen lake, each step webbing out in precarious cracks.

Clearly you’re not the only one who thinks so: you clock a handful of surprised looks from coworkers who’d attended the meeting and took note of the tension between you and Vought’s golden boy.

Maybe they’d taken bets on whether or not you’d be coming in this morning.

There’s no sign of Homelander on your way in. Not that you were expecting him–yesterday was the first time you actually saw him in person–but you still find yourself on the lookout. It’s hard to say whether you’re anticipating or dreading him. Part of you is still expecting to open your door and find a letter on your desk politely informing you that they’ve determined you aren’t a good “culture fit” for the company, and that your probation has been terminated.

After all, who in their right mind would take your side over Homelander’s?

You push open your office door, and sure enough, there is a letter waiting for you, but not in the way you expected. You stand in the doorway, staring in quiet incomprehension. The envelope, crisp and bright white, is propped up in a bed of rich red roses sitting in a pretty vase upon your desk. You glance behind you before you step inside, closing the door behind you, and approach the desk cautiously. You pluck the paper out of the bouquet, taking a moment to smell the flowers–they smell as good as they look–before you carefully rip open the envelope, tearing the small american flag sticker that sealed it.

Inside, there’s only one word on the folded piece of paper, scrawled in surprisingly elegant handwriting.

Truce?

You can’t help the incredulous little bark of laughter you give at that. It’s not even an apology. It’s a demand that he expects a gratuitous bundle of flowers will help you swallow, like taking medicine with a spoonful of sugar.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say quietly to the letter, setting it down on your desk. You give the roses one last sniff, testing one of the soft petals between your fingers. You wonder if what you said actually got through to him.

Homelander has no real reason to smooth things over with you: you’re no one. He’s posed no risk to himself by coming after you. He could no doubt have you fired by complaining that your marketing tactics don’t align with his brand. It’s hard to imagine Vought denies him much.

Yet he is apparently negotiating peace. It’s not nearly enough, but it is a start.

Or maybe it’s just more than you expected.

You sit, idly tapping the letter against your desk. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t still think him handsome. Homelander wasn’t the first man to ogle your tits while you gave a presentation, but he was certainly the first to fluster you like that when he did. His sly smile had made you want to slap him, but there was a questionable little part of you that thought about kissing it better afterwards.

Taking in a steadying breath, you slip the letter into your desk drawer and adjust the flowers to the side, admiring them a moment before you pull out your laptop.

If Homelander can behave himself enough to let you do your job without public humiliation, you can afford a truce. You don’t need to forgive or condone him to be civil, or even to continue having your own private fantasies. A little guilty pleasure now and again never hurt anyone.

You can’t know that Homelander is observing you throughout this internal conversation, watching through several layers of steel and concrete, his parted lips curving into a slow smile as you accept his offering. You can’t know that you haven’t just acknowledged a truce, but an invitation.

No, you can’t possibly know what’s to come.

Two days later, you diligently change the water that the roses in your office sit in. They’re doing well, the crimson buds having unfurled into a splay of velvety petals. You pinch one between your thumb and forefinger and stroke it absently. Homelander has continued to be a scarcity, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t seen him. Quite the opposite: you spend most of your working hours either looking at or thinking about his face to the point where it’s starting to follow you home each day.

That’s what you tell yourself when you think of him outside of work hours, anyways.

It’s been long enough now that you wonder if the flowers were the end of it. He was simply covering his ass with a half hearted gesture that slightly resembled an apology so that you could both comfortably drop the subject. That was entirely fine by you so long as he actually did improve his behavior.

A familiarly brisk knock at your door catapults your heart up against the cage of your ribs like a spooked hare. It’s the exact same beat, you’re sure of it. You stay quiet, half expecting to be barged in upon, but when nothing happens, you move from your desk and open the door yourself, intentionally blocking it with your body.

Sure enough, Homelander stands tall on the other side. He flashes his signature smile while your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“I think I’m the one who can help you,” he says brightly, that spread of teeth downright wolfish. He lifts a handful of papers that have been stapled at the corner, gesturing for you to take it.

Still wary, you take them from him and shift, wedging your foot to keep the door firmly in place while you flip through the pages. Your brows furrow as you recognize chunks of your own presentation. Understanding dawns when you realize that he’s annotated them.

“You read my presentation,” you say, unable to mask your surprise.

“Obviously. It’s my image on the line, right? Got some notes for you, but I have to say: y’mostly nailed it,” he says, reaching out to rest a gloved hand on the doorway.

“Mostly?” You echo, quirking an eyebrow at him as you look up from the pages.

“Yeah, mostly. Again, I have some minor notes,” he says, wiggling his other hand in a vague gesture. “But I figure I owe you praise on a job mostly well done.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Crossing your arms, you abandon your stern foothold on the door in order to shift your weight, your incredulity showing in every inch of your body language.  “What you owe me is an apology.”

Homelander’s grin softens into a smile that’s no less challenging. “Looks to me like you’ve already been enjoying my apology,” he says, leaning slightly to gaze past you, to the bundle of roses sitting prettily on your desk.

You briefly glance over your shoulder, but your expression remains impassive. Unimpressed. “That? That isn’t an apology. An apology would include the words I’m sorry.”

He scoffs a dismissive laugh, swaying back to look away, but you persist.

“I’m serious,” you say, luring his ocean blue gaze back to yours. “I want you to say to me ‘I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation. It won’t happen again.’ “

The two of you hold each other’s gaze with all the magnitude of two gunmen in a duel, hands steady over your proverbial pistols. 

To your surprise, Homelander does not fire back. He raises a dainty white flag.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation,” he says, words slow and measured. You watch his tongue flash over his bottom lip, wetting it attractively. You fight to not let your eyes linger on it. “It won’t happen again.”

You swallow, suddenly finding thought and speech an impossible task. You weren’t prepared for such raw, ready obedience from him, nor the intensity in his gaze that follows it. He reminds you of a charmed snake–docile so long as he is transfixed.

“Good,” you say, the word half a sigh. Homelander’s lips part and he breathes in like he’s caught wind of something particularly delicious smelling. “I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you took the time to do this,” you say, gesturing with the documents in your hand. “I’ll go over them and get back to you.”

He reaches out, bracing his hand on your office door. You half expect him to push it open, but he merely holds it there. “We could go over them together,” he suggests slyly.

“No,” you say, clearly disarming him. He looks as though he’s forgotten the meaning of the word. “I’m in the middle of another project at the moment.”

The leather of his gloves creaks faintly in your ear as he flexes his grip on the edge of the door. While what you’ve said is true, it’s also serving as a test. Words and flowers are pretty things, but only actions always speak the truth.

“At the moment,” he repeats, gears visibly turning in his eyes. “So… Later?” He extrapolates, displaying an uncharacteristic tentativeness alongside his obvious displeasure at the taste of rejection. You even see a glimmer of hope in the mess of his expression.. 

He did pass the test. You suppose you can reward him for that.

“Another time,” you say, giving your door an exploratory push. He relents, his hands sliding down the length of it before falling away as he takes a half-step back. “How about tomorrow on my lunch break? 1:00 o'clock sharp.”

He splits into a smile that looks more genuine than any of his you’ve seen before. “Aaalrighty-roo. Sounds gooood to meeeee,” he says, drawing out his vowels more the closer he gets to actually having to leave. At your silent, amused stare, he claps his gloved hands together with a muffled thump! and takes a few more steps backwards. “Yooooou’ll see me… tomorrow.”

Your smile pinches along with your brows. What a strange way to phrase it. “See you then,” you say, watching as his face is eclipsed by your closing door. You wait a beat and then let out a thin thread of breath from your pursed lips, resting your weight on the door.

Looking down at the papers in your hand, you push off from the door and head to your desk, flipping through them.

Such a strange man, you think, carrying the notes to your desk. You set them down next to the vase of roses and try not to think too much about the unconscious smile your lips keep settling into for the rest of the day.

Homelander’s got you hook, line and sinker. He’s certain of it. He lingers on the other side of your door just long enough to watch you through it while you settle, a charmed smile set on your lips. He can already imagine how those lips would feel against his own, how they’d taste. He swallows thickly and looks around before he departs, already plotting his next move.

The two of you have a date tomorrow, and in order to be at the top of his game, he’s going to have to do a little additional research. Knowing your work was a good first step. The next one will be learning about you.

Following you home is the easy part. It ultimately feels chivalrous to do so once he realizes you walk home even at this time of year, when the sun sets long before the work day ends. He drifts above you, cocking his head curiously. No wonder you walk. The streets are packed as tightly as sardine cans, and your apartment garage isn’t much better. The claustrophobia of it all serves as a stark contrast to the openness of Vought tower.

The interior of your apartment provides an even sharper juxtaposition to his penthouse. It’s tidy, but the comparatively low ceilings and minimal floor space still make it look cramped. Somehow, you simultaneously have too much and yet not much at all, the confinement of a downtown apartment making what minimal affects you do own seem crowded together.

That only becomes more apparent once he’s inside, slipped in through your balcony after sleep has taken you. Why would you bother to lock your balcony when you live on the 8th floor? It works out perfectly for him.

In all fairness, your living room feels cozier once he’s standing in the center of it. Your walls are lined with an assortment of art pieces and photographs, and the shelves are well stocked with books and knick-knacks. You have a decent film collection displayed on your media console, and he can’t help but snoop through it, bending at the waist, examining through the rows. He cocks his head.

Odd. You’d think an employee of Vought would have at least a few VCU films. He runs his index finger along the spines, slightly adjusting them flush as he goes. Pursing his lips, he straightens up and looks at the closed cabinets on either side. The left one yields an untidy assortment of electronic odds and ends, cords and the like. Nothing of much interest other than an indication that while you like to keep up appearances, you aren’t quite as together as you’d like people to think. 

It’s on the right side, however, he finds what he’s really looking for.

“Bingo,” he whispers, smiling to himself as he scopes out your little hidden collection of Vought hero flicks. Specifically, his films. He’s less interested in the handful of others you own (Queen Maeve: Her Majesty, Black Noir: Insurrection, Lamplighter: The Bright World, etc) and more so in the fact that you have nearly his entire catalog tucked away. 

Nearly. You’re missing his eighteen part miniseries, Homelander: Brightest Night.

At least that gives him something to gift you.

Closing the cabinet, he meanders about the rest of your apartment. You have some plants in varying states of decay, with only a few cacti looking to be in decent shape. Either your work keeps you too busy to properly mind them, or you just like the idea of them more than the reality. It tells him that you’re looking–and failing–to fill a void in your life. You want to feel less alone in your home, you want to nurture something. You just haven’t found the right something yet.

Striding into your kitchen, arms folded behind his back, he peers through the cheap wood veneer of your fiberboard cupboards, unveiling an unusually broad assortment of mugs. There doesn’t seem to be any particular theme: holidays, locales, characters, and a menagerie of patterns. 

He hums softly, pivoting out of the kitchen and down the hall, his steps preternaturally light. He listens for the beat of your heart as he draws near, tunes it in alongside the shallow cadence of your breath. Deep asleep. Good.

The walls are lined with pictures of you and others. Friends or family, he can’t say, but you look to have an abundance of both. He rarely sees himself in photos that aren’t promotional material. He pauses to straighten a picture frame, and finds himself so viciously jealous of the man sharing the frame with you–his lips pressed to your cheek, your laughing smile so genuine he can nearly hear it–that he almost knocks it to the ground.

Running his tongue along his teeth, he continues on.

Your bedroom door is open. He slips in silently, pausing just through the doorway. Your bed's a queen, too big for just you. You’re sprawled comfortably amidst pillows, limbs splayed in just such a way that he can easily imagine fitting himself in the empty spaces between them. He can smell the lingering burn of the candle you’d lit when you got home. He picks it up off your dresser, reading the label: Cup ‘o Joe. 

Eugh. He never cared for coffee, and the artificial sweetness surrounding the note is cloying. Your perfume, on the other hand, he doesn’t mind. He notices the bottle alongside a few other of your things and puts the candle down in favor of that, popping the cap off. The smell hits him before he sprays it: vanilla first, then amber and something more woodsy. It’s less impressive by itself than it had been on you.

Still, it’s yours. You chose it for yourself.

Slipping off one of his gloves, he lightly sprays into the inside of it before he sets the bottle back down, recapping it. It won’t be the same, but he’s driven by the compulsion to spirit away any little pieces of you that he can. Just enough to satiate himself until he can have you properly.

That’s when he sees your blouse from today in a careless heap at the top of your laundry basket next to your dresser. Licking his lips, he tests the feel of the garment between his bare fingers. He’s always been sensitive to fabrics, and while the blend of this one is fairly cheap, it’s been worn and washed enough that it’s soft against his skin. He grabs a handful of it and lifts it to his mouth, brushing it along his lips, under his nose, and he deeply inhales your lingering scent mixing with the fresh pump of perfume.

He bites back a moan, screwing his eyes shut. His cock gives a dull little throb. Fuck, the spell you’ve cast on him makes him ache just for the smell of you, makes him salivate. He swallows it back, letting out a rough little breath as he reluctantly puts the shirt back down. Under it, he spies a little flash of something black and lacy. His stomach clenches, and he’s reaching for it before he can stop himself, fishing the black panties out of the heap and twisting the fabric between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t afford to overindulge. He won’t be able to control himself if he does, but he also can’t bring himself to put the little slip of fabric back down. He imagines he can almost taste where your sweet cunt had been pressed to it. Christ, he’s practically drooling. Out of sheer impulse, he yanks down the zipper of his pants with a quiet hiss of metal against metal and hastily pushes your underwear into his cup, biting down hard on his lip. He grinds once against his hand, savoring the feel of the fabric against his cock.

He’ll enjoy them far more than you’ll miss them.

Zipping himself back up, he carefully pulls open your top dresser drawer. He curiously pushes the contents around, mindful not to overly disturb, and his knuckles bump something solid. He shifts one of your bras–another near painful pang of arousal at the reminder of your breasts–aside and finds, to his delight, what any good marketing department would describe as  “a large purple massage wand.”

A vibrator. He chews his bottom lip briefly, turning it over in his grip. An exciting find on all fronts. It’s smooth and decently hefty, good quality. You deserve even better. You might be capable of indulging yourself with this, but he could make you scream. You’ll never need a silly little toy again. Not when you have him.

Homelander moves to put it back in the drawer, but–

“Fuck!” He hisses when the button catches on his finger, and suddenly the damn thing is buzzing.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chants mentally, jabbing at the buttons in an attempt to silence it, but pressing the same ones only makes the accursed device louder. In a frantic move, he grips the neck and squeezes. There’s a soft crunch beneath the silicone, and as abruptly as it had begun, the buzzing ends. His heart is thudding heavily in his chest. He listens to the silence, to you.

He looks over his shoulder. No movement. Your breaths remain shallow.

Christ.

So much for leaving no trace. He slips the busted toy back amidst your underthings and snatches his glove off of your dresser, tucking it under his arm. He hones his attention on you as he approaches your bed, assuring himself that you really are still asleep. He stands there for a while, admiring the part of your lips and the haphazard splay of your pajamas and where they cling to your body.

No bra.

His bare hand flexes. Being so close is too much of a temptation. He wets his lips with a quick slide of his tongue and bends down. He ghosts his fingers just over your cheek, not quite daring to touch. He can smell the faint remnants of your toothpaste on your breath, your shampoo, and beneath it all, you. It's intoxicating, it's…

Your brows furrow slightly in your sleep and you make a soft noise, interrupting his thoughts. He wonders if you’re dreaming–dreaming of him, perhaps. He’d like to think so. He’d like to think that you’re just as affected by him wanting you as he is, and that’s the real reason you invited him to lunch. He saw it in your eyes when he echoed your words, the thrill that went through you. He could have gone to his knees for you in that moment and had you in giving himself to you.

Desperate for just a taste, he kisses ever so gently between your brows, his own breaths matching the cadence of yours. Divine. You're divine. So effortlessly perfect and so aware of your own power. How could he not want every part of you?

He means to leave it there, to walk away with nothing but the slight salt of your brow on his lips, but the pull is too great. He's greedy, drunk on the smell and the taste of you, on the feel of your panties pressed up against his cock, and he can't stop himself from sampling your lips against his.

It’s the barest hint of touch, and yet the contact lances electricity through him like he’s been struck by a bolt of lightning. Your lips are soft, soft, soft. He knew they would be. Everything about you is so fucking soft. It takes everything in him to pull away, standing back to his full height.

He's aching, yearning so intensely he could rip the covers away and take you just like this, shake you awake, declare himself and have you. Would you scream, or would you have that same look of affronted understanding of him? You see him in a way few are ever brave–or stupid–enough to dare.

Not yet.

He won’t spoil the game. He agreed to play by your terms. As far as you’re concerned, he’ll do precisely that. You’ll be none the wiser in regards to his little reconnaissance mission–anything could have happened to your vibrator–and the two of you can play your little game as if you stand on equal footing.

Sucking in a silent breath, Homelander leaves alone, but not empty handed.

He’ll make very good use of his little trophy tonight.

( chapter three )

[spideyhexx]

i wanna take coryo’s virginity and then constantly be in the back of his mind that i was the best pussy he’s ever had 😗

HDJWDBWJDNSN YEAH

god like you had a little fling with him where you did it maybe once or twice but it was phenomenal for him. Like truly life-changing because you were so good, and he thought he’d be so much more of a loser his first time. We know that man is anxious as fuck, he was probably over thinking it every step of the way, but you guided him so well and it was fun. He actually had fun with it and learned so much.

so now years later, he’s engaged to be married, maybe you’re already married and thriving but every time he sees you at these fancy Capitol events he can’t stop thinking about how good it felt to fuck you. How your lips were the first around his cock, how no pussy has ever been as good as yours. And he hates that really, hates that you take up space in his mind. So he’d try so hard to only think of your flaws, so when you do talk to one another he’s a bit standoffish and jerkish.

But you make one suggestive comment and his pants feel a little tighter.

[fuctacles]

Eddie, begrudgingly: Dustin's older brother is kinda fine :/

I had a craving for best friend's older brother AU so I wrote some but it's not my forte I'm out of ideas so that might be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Edit: jokes on me I guess [Part II] [Part III]

Eddie was about to knock on his freshman friend’s door when there was a loud commotion on the other side and the door opened by itself. A guy, probably around his age, nearly ran into him in his haste to leave the house. He startled, taking Eddie in. And then taking a double take, the way Eddie was used to people doing at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” the guy asked, scrunching his nose and not meeting Eddie’s eyes.

He felt his hackles rise, venom building in his throat and ready to spit. He wasn’t expecting this on a Saturday on his friend’s doorstep, but he guessed this was the kind of town where you just couldn’t wear your battle vest in peace anywhere. His upper lip twitched ready to form a snarl, when suddenly the guy's features softened, a spark of recognition lighting up his eyes.

“Wait. Let me guess. Eddie?”

Eddie faltered, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. He frowned.

“Yeah?”

The guy's face warmed up with a smile, and Eddie was not ready for that kind of emotional rollercoaster this early in the morning.

“Dustin’s stories do not do you justice,” he says for some reason, eyeing him again. Eddie wants to shrivel up and hide. What the fuck was happening. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” he said, stepping to the side to invite him in. “I have to go to work, so you two be good, okay?” he says before waving a cheery goodbye and closing the door, disappearing just as abruptly as he showed up in front of Eddie. The inside of the house suddenly seemed dull.

Another ray of sunshine peeked from the kitchen, toothy grin and hazelnut curls.

“So you’ve met Steve!” Dustin grinned in place of a greeting.

Eddie gawked at him.

“That,” he pointed at the closed door. The sound of a car leaving the curb tickled his ears. “Was Steve?!”

“The adopted brother Steve? The Star Wars fan Steve? The badass older brother Steve?”

“Yes, all that,” Dustin nodded enthusiastically.

“I thought he was, like, 16!” Eddie flailed and it sounded like a petulant whine even to his ears. He winced.

Dustin frowned at him like he was being stupid. Eddie didn’t like that gaze, but unfortunately at this point, he was getting used to it. His younger friend leaned on the kitchen door frame watching Eddie toe off his shoes.

“He’s 19. What gave you that impression?”

Eddie frowned at his scuffed Reeboks. He nudged them with his toe to line up, looking for an answer.

“The adopted part, I think? He’s almost an adult, who adopts that old?”

He knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as he said it. He looked up at Dustin, whose face twisted uncomfortably.

“Shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

Dusting clicked his tongue impatiently, interrupting him.

“It’s fine. This is an unconventional arrangement,” he said in that way when you heard something repeatedly. “I can tell you more, but after we make that character sheet, okay?”

Eddie nodded, eager to abandon his social faux pas. The Henderson’s were an unconventional unit, and that’s what he loved about them, at least from the stories Dustin shared. The guy was a little freak, just like Eddie, so it checked out his family was just as unconventional. So was Eddie’s after all.

The parallels made him warm up inside, the familiar need to protect his younger friends flaring up.

“Deal,” he nodded, following his friend inside the kitchen, where notebooks and DnD manuals already littered the table.

A couple of hours, two coffees and an unsolved argument about the intricacies of multiclassing later, they decided to take a break and Eddie could finally feast his eyes on the family photos on display. He stood in front of the newest one standing front and centre on the mantle. Steve was smiling shyly to the camera while Claudia Henderson had her arms around his shoulders and Dustin was grinning wide from his other side, hair ruffled by the older boy's hand.

“How long he has been living here?”

Dustin’s head popped out of the kitchen where he was rummaging for snacks.

“About a year. Remember the Starcourt fire?”

“Yeah?” Eddie frowned, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question.

“Well, he’s been there and-” the boy frowned, fully stepping into the living room and crossing his arms. “Shit, Mom says I shouldn’t be babbling it around. That it’s Steve's story to tell.”

Eddie hummed, cocking his head.

“Your mom is very smart.”

Dustin unwrapped his arms, clenching his hands together.

“I guess I could tell you I mean who are you gonna tell? You just-”

Eddie raised both his hands, stopping him.

“Dude, he interrupted with all the disapproval his drug dealing nonconformist self could muster. “She’s right and that would be breaking your brother’s trust.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Dustin gulped, looking adequately ashamed at proposing the idea. “You’re right., he nodded.

This lasted about half a second because nobody could stop Henderson from being an egocentric know-it-all and since he was wrong he was now going to overcompensate for it. Of that, Eddie could be sure.

“We can go to his workplace and you could ask him!”

Eddie raised his hands again.

“Hold your horses Henderson, we’re not harassing your brother at work.” The boy was actually pouting, the little shit. “I am not that determined to hear it. I’ll just catch him another time I visit.”

That was the wrong thing to say because he wasn’t planning on being a recurring guest initially. Or maybe it was the right thing to say since Dustin positively beamed at the implication.

Maybe it was because the kid’s presence has been a good influence on him as well.

Also, while the story of Steve’s adoption didn’t seem that interesting before, the idea of a mall fire being somehow involved raised questions that were now itching the back of Eddie’s tongue. He had to ask them at some point.

*

“There’s this guy,” Eddie starts one day during lunch break. 

“Oh-ho,” Gareth murmurs with disdain, the crumbs from his sandwich falling from his lips.

“Not like that,” Eddie glowered at him, slapping against his arm. Even though it was kinda like that. “He’s picking up Henderson after Hellfire today and if we run into him, I want you guys to be civil.”

“We’re always civil,” Jeff frowns at Eddie’s backhanded accusations.

“Yeah, especially when you guys are mooning after Mrs. Wheeler.”

The comment raised a wave of loud protests from his friends.

“I am just saying-”

“You’re just saying that guy is hot and we shouldn’t ogle him?” Gareth, the worst friend he has, raised his eyebrow.

“No, I’m just-”

“You calling dibs, Munson?” John the Traitor, the Backstabber, joined in. Johned in, if you will.

‘No!” Eddie protested, maybe a little too loud. A couple of heads turned but when they saw the ruckus was coming from the freaks table, they quickly lost interest. “He’s the worst. A hunk of jock with stupid hair but!” He rose a finger. “He’s Henderson’s family. And what do we do with family members in Hellfire?”

“Lure in.”

“Lull into a fake sense of security.”

“Cast charm person.”

“Exactly,” he smirked, pointing his finger at each of them in approval. “This case is no different.”

“It feels different,” Gareth murmured under his breath, earning himself another smack on the shoulder.

*

Eddie wrapped up the session and was giving out experience points to his players when a soft knock interrupted his counting. He frowned at the door.

“Speak ‘friend’ and enter!” he hollered to his sheep’s utter glee. He grinned at them.

Dead silence was all the response he got, so he assumed whatever normie was bugging them got discouraged. But then, Henderson was turning around in his seat, yelling at the door.

“It’s from Lord of the Rings! You know this one!”

There was a shuffle on the other side where apparently, Steve came already to pick up his brother.

“Oh! Um… Melon? Was that it?”

“You may enter!” Eddie commanded with a grin straining at his cheeks. Dustin was doing a good job educating his jock brother, apparently. 

The guy pushed the door open, taking in the table full of teenagers. He waved hesitantly.

“You guys finishing up?”

“I’m handing out points, we need just a few minutes,” Eddie waved his hand. “And it’s Mellon.”

Steve frowned.

“That’s what I said.”

“Sure you did,” Eddie cocked his head condescendingly, ignoring the eyes of Corroded Coffin members staring at him. “Now sit and wait,” he gratuitously offered, snapping his fingers and pointing at a nearby bench, like Henderson’s older brother was some kind of dog.

To his surprise, he nodded shortly and obeyed, sitting down and watching him expectantly. Eddie took it as his cue to proceed. He coughed to gather his sheep's attention and went back to his meticulous calculations.

*

“That didn’t look like Charm Person to me,” Gareth hissed as soon as the younger members of Hellfire had left.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Eddie scrunched his eyebrows, throwing him a look while he stuffed his campaign notes into his bag.

“You told us to be nice, but you ordered him around like he was one of the kids,” Jeff pointed out, arms crossing.

“I did not”

“You totally did.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he straightened up.

“What is this? Mutiny? Among my own kin? Ungrateful little herd I had nurtured on my own breast-”

He was interrupted by a cacophony of grossed out noises.

“Spare us the imagery, please.”

Eddie huffed indignantly, closing his bag.

“Then quit yapping. It was a singular lapse of judgement on my part,” he said with finality, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Without looking back, he walked off, hand raised in a goodbye, “Toodles, bitches.”

And he was gone.

Gareth sighed.

“Man, I love Eddie, but sometimes…” John cut himself off, shaking his head. 

“Yeah.”

*

Eddie’s been on the fence about it for some time now. But the time was ticking and he did say more than once that ‘86 was gonna be his year, so maybe it was time to pocket his ego and make some calls.

Some very, very humiliating calls.

Sighing deeply he imagined himself going to the woods and digging up a deep hole. There he imaginary buried his pride, made a fancy map to find it later, hopefully in time for his graduation, and finally dragged himself back home and in front of his phone. Next to it, he tacked on a list of numbers of all his newest sheepies in case of emergencies. Like Hellfire scheduling.

He sighed once more, slumping dramatically before dialling the first of the numbers. As he listened to the dial tone, he squared his shoulders, decided a more confident pose was in order. He was now a man of action, taking his fate in his own hands. His pride was buried deeply in the darkest corners of the forest and only a courageous-

“Har- Henderson residence, this is Steve speaking.”

Eddie’s mind went blank, completely thrown off. Who was he calling again? What for?

“Hello?”

“Is this how you pick up the phone? Did I get the wrong house? Is this the British Queen?”

“... Eddie? Is that you?”

Busted.

“What gave me away?”

“Ah, only the dramatic nonsensical ramblings.” Steve answered, amusement in his voice. 

“Thank you, I pride myself in those.” No pride! Pride is buried deep in the putrid soil of a forgotten battlefield! “But I’m here for the superior Henderson, please and thank you.” Ah yes, the Charm Person again. Somebody could think Eddie buried his Charisma along with the pride.

“Sorry, Claudia is at work right now.”

Eddie scrunched his nose, confused, the gleeful tilt to the voice in his ear irking him. Then he remembered the mom. A staple in most households.

“Har, har, Steven. The smart one.”

“Please never call him that to his face,” the man said with a resigned sigh.

“There wouldn’t be enough space in the room for both our egos if I did.”

Steve laughed then, softly and genuinely, before calling out for his younger brother.

After a loud rattle, Dustin’s lispy voice finally reached Eddie’s trailer.

“What's up?”  

The man braced himself for what he was about to request.

“I need your help with an assignment.”

*

The door opened before he could even knock. Again.

“I thought I told you not to inflate his ego.”

“No, you told me not to call him smart. It is merely a by-product of my desperate attempts at graduating,” Eddie shrugged matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t respond to the likes of you.” He punctuated his words by seizing the guy up before brushing past him inside the Henderson’s house.

“The likes of- Excuse me?!”

Eddie was skipping towards Dustin’s room.

“Hey big guy I’m here for my tutoring!” he announced himself, standing in the open door to his friend’s room, who quickly beckons him inside. Steve’s heavy steps follow and soon he’s the one standing in the door frame, arms crossed, while Eddie bounces on Dustin’s bed.

“What do you mean the likes of me?” he asks, almost pouting. 

“Mainstream,” offered Dustin, shuffling through stuff on his desk.

“Jocks,” added Eddie, still bouncing with glee, hair following up and down.

“Normies.”

“Pop listeners.”

“Mom friends.”

“Conformists.”

“Okay, I get it!” Steve threw his hands in the air, stopping the list that probably wouldn’t come to an end otherwise. “You’re the cool guys, have fun having your cool stuff,” he huffed angrily, grabbing the doorknob. Before he closed the door he threw one seething glance at Dustin. “Do not. Ask me for snacks,” he hissed before slamming the door shut.

Eddie flipped back on the bed, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Man, your brother is so easy to rile up,” he chuckled gleefully.

“Right?! He’s so bitchy,” Dusting turned around towards him, signature smile in place. Eddie hollered.

“He is!”

Alas, a slap of palms interrupted his delightful trashing around.

“I believe we have some physics to cover?”

Eddie groaned. Right. He didn’t come here to bother the older Henderson. Booo.

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]