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pedroscowgirl · 2 months

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The Lie Detector Test

Hugh jackman x reader!actress

Warnings!!!: minors dni!!

mentions of: daddy issues , age gap (reader is in their 20s), smut (duh), oral!receiving, p in v, creampie (wrap it up), semi-public sex?, pet names (baby,princess), fluff at the end and lots of romantic kisses

lmk if i missed some!!

Words: 4.3K (i went a little crazy cuz I'm so down bad for this man omg)

A/N: This is the first time in years that I've written a fanfiction so pls be kind 🙈

You had just finished filming the latest blockbuster, and the studio had arranged a promotional event to build hype for the movie. The concept was unique and promised to be a hit: a lie detector test featuring you and Hugh Jackman, your co-star. The aim was to show a fun and candid side of both of you, offering fans an intimate glimpse into your personalities.

You remembered your first day on set with Hugh vividly. It was a sunny morning, and you were a bundle of nerves, excited and anxious about working with such a celebrated actor. Hugh had approached you with his trademark warmth, extending a hand and offering a reassuring smile.

“Hi, I’m Hugh. It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your work,” he said, his voice carrying a genuine note of friendliness.

You shook his hand, grateful for his easygoing nature. “I’m thrilled to be working with you, Hugh. I’ve been a fan for a long time.”

From that moment on, your chemistry on set was undeniable. Hugh’s professionalism and charm made every scene enjoyable, and your natural rapport translated effortlessly on screen. Between takes, you found yourselves sharing stories and jokes, the lines between your characters and real life blurring as you formed a close friendship. But behind your confident exterior, you felt a tug of nerves whenever he was near. Hugh Jackman wasn't just any actor; he was the embodiment of the older, charismatic figures you'd found attractive for as long as you could remember.

You had always known you had some form of daddy issues. Growing up with an emotionally absent father, you had a tendency to be drawn to older, authoritative figures. Hugh fit that mold perfectly, and being around him made you acutely aware of your attraction to him. His deep voice, his kind eyes, the way he carried himself with such ease...it all made your heart race.

Fast forward to the day of the lie detector test, the studio was buzzing with excitement. The set was designed to look sleek and modern, with a large, imposing lie detector machine at the center. Cameras were positioned to capture every angle, ensuring that no reaction or subtle expression would be missed by the audience.

You took your seat across from Hugh, who was already connected to the machine by Lou, the lie detector specialist. The studio lights reflected off his charismatic smile as he settled in, ready for the challenge.

“Ready for this, Hugh?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement and the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Just go easy on me, alright?”

You picked up the first question card, the icebreaker questions designed to set a light-hearted tone. You both took turns answering questions about your favorite movies, childhood memories, and behind-the-scenes antics from the movie set. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with laughter and playful teasing, showcasing the easy relationship that had developed between you two.

Then, feeling a mischievous urge, you decided to go off-script.

“Okay, Hugh,” you said, leaning forward with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. “How do you feel about people on the internet calling you ‘daddy’ or 'father'?”

Hugh raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the unexpected question. He took a moment to think before answering, “Well, I do have kids., so technically , I am a father.”

You tilted your head and smirked, not letting him off the hook that easily. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Hugh chuckled, a deep, genuine laugh that filled the room. “Well, I don’t mind i guess” he admitted, glancing at Lou for confirmation.

Lou looked at the lie detector’s readings and nodded. “Truthful,” he confirmed.

“Good to know,” you said with a playful wink. “That was actually not a question on the cards. I just wanted to give the people with daddy issues what they want. You're so welcome.”

Hugh laughed again, biting his lip as he looked at you with a newfound appreciation. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You felt a thrill at the way he was looking at you, the playful banter taking a more intimate turn. “Just keeping things interesting,” you replied, your voice softening. Your heart pounded harder, realizing just how much he affected you. You could feel your palms sweating and hoped he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in your hands as you reached for the next question card.

The rest of the session continued in a similar vein, with flirtatious comments and lingering glances exchanged between questions. Each time Hugh's gaze lingered on you a bit longer, your heart raced a little faster. You tried to focus on the questions, but your mind kept drifting to the way he looked at you, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket.

----------------------------------------------------

As the interview came to an end, you both stood up, removing your microphones. The studio crew began to pack up, the hustle and bustle of the set slowly fading into the background. Hugh caught your eye and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Hey, why don’t we head to the dressing room? We can talk more privately there,” he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of something more.

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Sure, sounds good.”

You both made your way through the winding corridors of the studio, your footsteps echoing in the quiet halls. As you approached the dressing rooms, the anticipation grew, every glance exchanged between you filled with unspoken tension.

Hugh opened the door to his dressing room, allowing you to step inside first. The room was cozy, with comfortable chairs and a small table with snacks and drinks. You took a seat, trying to calm your racing heart as Hugh closed the door behind him, shutting out the world outside.

He turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You were great today,” he said, his voice low and sincere. He walked over to the small table and picked up a bottle of water, offering it to you. “Here, have some water. You’ve earned it.”

You accepted the bottle gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. The cool water was refreshing, helping to steady your nerves. Hugh sat down across from you, his gaze never wavering.

“You know,” he said, his tone turning playful, “I think you might be even more captivating off-screen than on. It’s quite a talent.”

You choked on your water, caught off guard by his flirtatious comment. Coughing slightly, you set the bottle down and tried to regain your composure. “Thanks, Hugh,” you managed to say, your cheeks flushing. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Hugh chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I was hoping I wasn’t being too forward.” He paused, letting his eyes sweep over your outfit. “That dress, by the way, is incredibly sexy. It’s been hard to concentrate all day.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, the compliment sending a rush of heat through you. “I—thank you,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air thick with unspoken desire.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “You really do look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and husky with that sexy australian accent. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all day.”

You felt a thrill at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, the sincerity in his voice, made it hard to breathe. “You’re not too bad yourself, Hugh,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hugh smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made your breath catch. You could feel the tension building between you, the unspoken attraction simmering just below the surface. His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt yourself leaning into his touch.

"Hugh," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He didn't reply, but his eyes said everything. He was as caught up in this moment as you were. His other hand came up to cup your face, holding you gently but firmly. You could feel his breath against your lips, warm and inviting. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

His lips hovered just inches from yours, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the magnetic pull drawing you closer. His eyes flicked to your lips and back to your eyes, seeking permission, waiting for a sign.

You gave the slightest nod, a silent invitation. That was all he needed.

Slowly, as if savoring every second, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, testing the waters. The contact was gentle, almost feather-light, but it sent a wave of heat through your body. Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, growing more confident and demanding. His lips moved against yours with a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, igniting a fire within you. You responded eagerly, your body pressing closer to his, craving more of his touch.

His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer still. You could feel the strength in his grip, the possessive way he held you making your pulse quicken. The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, filled with unspoken promises and undeniable chemistry.

When he pulled you closer, you could feel his bulge pressing against you, the sensation igniting a fire deep within. A rush of heat surged through your body, making you aware of how much you craved him. Every nerve seemed to tingle with anticipation, and the space between you crackled with unspoken desire.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. The intensity of it made your knees weak, and you pressed yourself against him, desperate for more. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, hard and demanding against your stomach, and it only fueled your longing. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him, to feel every part of him.

Your breath quickened, each inhale filled with the intoxicating scent of him. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, sliding down his chest, over the taut muscles, until they reached his belt. Your fingers fumbled in your eagerness, trembling with the intensity of your desire. The thought of what was to come made your heart race, and you could feel the slickness between your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed him.

Just as you began to loosen his belt, Hugh’s hand covered yours, halting your movements. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the dominance in his touch made you shiver. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

“Nu uh, not yet, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. His eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and filled with a fierce determination that made your pulse quicken even more. “I want to please you first.”

The promise in his words made your heart skip a beat, and the anticipation of what he was about to do was almost too much to bear. Your breath caught in your throat, and you let out a soft whimper, the need inside you growing more insistent.

His other hand slid down your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips, igniting a trail of fire on your skin. His touch was both soothing and electrifying, and you arched into him, silently begging for more. The way he looked at you, with such intensity and focus, made you feel like the center of his world.

“Hugh, please,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to savor every moment.”

Hugh's hands were firm but gentle as he gripped your thighs, lifting you with an effortless strength that made your breath hitch. He set you down on his desk, the cool surface contrasting with the heat radiating from your skin. The room felt charged, every second stretching out as his intense gaze bore into you. Your heart raced, anticipation and desire coiling in your belly. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Can I take a look at your panties and take them off?" he asked, his voice husky and dripping with intent.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you bit your lip, your body responding to his every word. You nodded, eyes wide and lips parted, but he wasn't satisfied with your silent answer. "I need words, baby," he murmured, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. His eyes held a command that you couldn't ignore. "Yes," you finally breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to take them off, please."

A slow smile spread across his face, sending a thrill through you. He slid his hands under your dress, fingers brushing against your thighs as he lifted you slightly. With deliberate, teasing movements, he peeled your black lace panties down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles. The air felt electric, every touch sending sparks along your skin. His eyes roamed over your now-bare form, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"Did you plan for this to happen?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge. The question made your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. You met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "No," you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "My granny underwear is in the washing machine." The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and oddly intimate.

Hugh's grin widened, his eyes darkening with amusement and desire. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I think I prefer the lace," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through you. The tension between you was unbearable, an unspoken promise of what was to come.

He knelt before you, his eyes dark with hunger and intent. The anticipation made your breath quicken as he placed his strong hands on your thighs, gently parting them and lifting them onto his broad shoulders. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his, filled with a confident, almost predatory desire. He paused for a moment, giving you a sexy look that sent shivers down your spine, before dipping his head between your legs.

The first touch of his mouth against you was like nothing you'd ever felt. You gasped, your body arching towards him as his warm breath and skillful tongue explored your most sensitive spots. He started slowly, teasing you with soft strokes, his lips and tongue moving with practiced expertise. The sensation was incredible, each flick and swirl driving you wild. When he began to suck on your clit, a moan escaped your lips, the pleasure so intense it felt like fire coursing through your veins.

You'd never been with an older man before, and the thrill of his experience, his confidence, heightened every sensation. His touch was commanding yet tender, a perfect balance that made you melt under his ministrations. His tongue moved in amazing patterns, drawing you closer to the edge with every motion. The excitement of this new experience mixed with the raw pleasure, making your moans louder and more frequent.

Then, without warning, he slipped two fingers inside you. They filled you perfectly, curling just right to hit that sweet spot. The sudden intrusion made you gasp and clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands. As you tugged, a deep, primal groan rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating against you. The sensation was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

His fingers worked in rhythm with his tongue, and you felt a building pressure, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. The combination of his skilled mouth and the fullness of his fingers was overwhelming, pushing you towards the brink. You could feel his own enjoyment in the way he groaned against you, his voice low and resonant, spurring you on. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate and precise, as if he knew exactly what you needed, where to touch to make you come undone.

As the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, you couldn't hold back. Your hips bucked against his mouth, your hands gripping his hair even tighter. His fingers and tongue moving faster, more insistent. The feel of his mouth and hands on you, sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, and then you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. The release was overwhelming, leaving you breathless and trembling. He continued to pleasure you through it all, his touch gentle but unrelenting, until you were spent and utterly satisfied.

As you came down from the high, your breaths ragged, he finally lifted his head. His eyes met yours, dark and satisfied, a smug smile playing on his lips. The sight of him, lips glistening with your pleasure, sent a final shiver down your spine.

You were still catching your breath, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, when Hugh pulled back and licked his lips, savoring the taste of you. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss. The sensation was intoxicating; you could taste yourself on his tongue, a delicious reminder of the intimacy you'd just shared. His fingers trailed back to your core, seeking to reignite the fire, but you pulled away, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

"Please, Hugh," you panted, your voice laced with desperation. "I'm begging you, I need to feel you inside me right now, or I'm going to go crazy." The urgency in your voice was undeniable,your body aching with unfulfilled desire.

He chuckled softly, the sound a dark, velvety caress that made your skin tingle. "Oh, my poor princess can't wait to have Daddy inside her," he teased, his words dripping with amusement and lust. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, making you bite your lip. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"Oh, so you really like being called Daddy, huh?" you purred, a teasing edge to your voice. "Well, I can arrange that for you." Your words were a playful challenge, a promise of more to come.

Hugh's lips curled into a wicked smile, and he pulled you into another heated kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a possessive intensity. As he kissed you, his hands deftly moved to unbuckle his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle and the rustle of fabric sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You watched with bated breath as he stripped off his pants and shirt, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. When your eyes fell on his impressive length, a gasp escaped your lips, louder than you'd intended. The sight of him, so big and ready, made your heart race and your core throb with need.

Hugh noticed your reaction and smirked, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. "It's okay, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "We'll take our time." He reached out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek, the touch tender in contrast to the raw passion between you.

As he stood before you, your eyes roamed over his body, drinking in the sight of his defined abs and broad, muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare at how well-built he was. "God, Hugh," you breathed, your voice filled with awe. "You're so sexy. I can't believe how ripped you are for your age." Your hand traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the hard planes of his torso. "These abs, this body... it's incredible." You looked up at him, biting your lip, the admiration in your eyes unmistakable.

He laughed and positioned himself between your legs, his hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer. You felt his tip graze your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you. You couldn't help but moan, your body arching towards him, craving more. He paused, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and desire. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yes," you breathed, barely able to form words. "Keep going, please." Your voice was laced with anticipation and desperation, the need for him overwhelming.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Hugh began to push inside you. The stretch was intense, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he filled you inch by inch. Your nails dug into his biceps, your fingers curling around the hard muscle as you adjusted to his size. "Oh my god, Hugh," you moaned, your voice breathless. "Fuck, you're so big."

A wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Call me Daddy, baby," he murmured, his voice a deep, commanding growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Daddy," you whimpered, the word slipping from your lips like a plea. The sound seemed to fuel him, his hips snapping forward, burying himself fully inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and fullness that left you gasping.

As Hugh began to thrust in and out, setting a rhythm that drove you wild, the intensity of the moment heightened. The pleasure was almost too much, your back arching, head tilting back. Hugh noticed, concern flickering in his eyes. He reached up, cradling the back of your head with one strong hand, his touch gentle and protective. "Easy, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Don't want you hurting yourself against the wall." The tender gesture made your heart flutter even as your body surged with lust.

He continued to move, each thrust deep and deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours. The connection between you was electric, every movement synchronized, every breath shared. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he set a slow, torturous rhythm. The pleasure built with each stroke, an intoxicating crescendo that left you breathless and begging for more.

Hugh's thumb found your clit, and he began to rub tight, precise circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body. Your breath hitched, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips in a breathless chant, a plea and a prayer. He picked up the pace, each thrust harder, more demanding, driving you wild with need.

"Come for me, princess," he urged, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come around me."

The combination of his deep, commanding voice and the skillful movements of his fingers and hips was too much. You felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm tore through you. You cried out, the pleasure so intense it left you shaking.

Hugh groaned, the sound low and primal, as he felt you tighten around him. His movements became erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased his own release. With a deep moan, he followed you over the edge, his release hot and deep inside you. The sensation sent a final wave of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms faded, Hugh leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips gentle and tender. The touch was a sweet contrast to the raw, passionate encounter you'd just shared. His hands caressed your skin, soothing you as you both came down from the high, the connection between you lingering in the air.

The room was silent except for your labored breaths, the intensity of the moment leaving you both in awe. Hugh pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft whispers of comfort and affection made you feel cherished and adored. It was more than just a physical connection; it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy that left you both craving more.

Just as you were catching your breath, a loud knock echoed from the door, making you both jump. You barely had time to react before you heard Ryan's voice, muffled but clear. "Hey, guys, next time be more subtle, okay?" His tone was teasing, but there was no mistaking the hint of amusement. You blushed furiously, burying your face in Hugh's chest as he chuckled softly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Noted," Hugh called back, his voice laced with humor. He looked down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Guess we'll have to be quieter next time, huh, princess?" He stroked your cheek tenderly, his expression softening. The playful moment broke the tension, leaving you both laughing softly, the bond between you stronger than ever.

#hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman #wolverine smut #wolverine #deadpool #wolverine and deadpool #ryan reynolds #marvel smut #marvel

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wandascosmic · 6 days

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so american

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: in which you struggle with the aftermath of your relationship with natasha, but wanda never fails to help you through it all.

or, the one based off so american by olivia rodrigo.

word count: 11,499

tags: fluff, angst, natasha being a bitch in one scene, this was supposed to be completely fluffy but then i added angst and ended up loving it, they're mostly just two idiots in love, reader gets insecure a couple times, wanda's so in love, everyone say thank you to olivia rodrigo for fuelling all my fic ideas

part one: enough for you

“Why do Americans drive on the right side of the road,” Wanda grumbles as she sits behind the wheel, driving the two of you to your favorite road trip destination, your family’s cottage in Nevada.

You laugh, kissing her cheek. “Baby, Sokovians do too.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” Wanda mutters, cursing under her breath when another right-hand turn takes her by surprise.

“I think that’s what you get for getting your license in the UK, Wanda,” you tease. “Now you’re all grumpy, and angry, and that milkshake we shared a couple of hours ago definitely didn’t help–”

Wanda gives you a look and you give a cheeky smile in return.

“For the record,” she replies, looking at the road once more. “I didn’t have a choice. I was on a recon mission with Steve, and he told me I couldn’t rely on my powers for transportation all the time.”

“Well, I think your powers are hot, though.”

Wanda laughs. “Thanks, detka.”

“Jesus, I’m cold,” you mutter as goosebumps start to form on your skin.

Wanda immediately turns down the AC in the car, and you reach into the back for the first piece of outerwear you can find. As you pull your hand back to your body, you realize it’s Wanda’s navy blue hoodie, your favorite piece of clothing of hers. Smiling, you pull it over your head, comforted by the scent of her that enraptures your senses.

Sighing in satisfaction, you lean your head back into your chair, feeling so much more content than you did a year ago.

Wanda notices you out of the corner of her eye, and softly says, “You look so pretty wearing my clothes.”

You smile at her, and Wanda takes your hand in return, as she keeps her other on the wheel, intertwining your fingers together.

“You’re so warm,” you whisper, feeling so so loved.

Wanda squeezes your hand tighter.

***

Wanda’s laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world, you realized the first day you met her.

You had been sitting and talking the entire morning, Wanda’s smile awakening the constant butterflies in your stomach and setting your heart alive.

“So,” Wanda rests her chin onto her hand and leans onto her elbow. “What profession are you in?”

You smile, “I’m an oncologist, but I much prefer the research aspect of things. I find it thrilling.”

Wanda scrunches her nose. “You find spending countless hours in front of your computer and in a lab thrilling?”

You laugh. “Sure do. What about you? What profession are you in?”

“I’m an Avenger, but I work part-time as an English professor at a local university,” Wanda replies, and before you can compliment her on her work as a superhero, she asks another question, still curious about your job. “Why oncology, though?” she asks with her shiny eyes ever so inquisitive.

“My mom died of cancer when I was 8,” you look into your coffee cup, staring at the liquid as you pop the lid off. “You can probably figure out the rest,” you give a small smile.

Wanda frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was a long time ago. I’ve made peace with it, honestly.”

“That’s really amazing though,” Wanda says, struck by how beautiful you were on the outside and inside.

You blush. “Thanks.” Feeling overwhelmed by everything Wanda was making you feel you decide to tell a joke. “Hey, what do you call an apology written in dots and dashes?”

Wanda tilts her head curiously. “What?”

“Re-morse code,” you give a small smile.

Wanda takes a second to process it, but once she does, a huge grin makes its way on her face and she’s laughing.

She’s laughing, and you want to keep hearing it for the rest of your life.

Once she’s done, she looks at you with a shake of her head. “That was awful.”

You shrug. “Made you laugh, though.”

“You did,” Wanda nods. “And something tells me you’ll keep making me laugh.”

You blush, people had never really found you funny. Nat didn’t especially.

But here Wanda was, with her comforting smile that made you feel like you were on fire, and her soft green eyes that made you feel safe, cared for, and loved already.

Who made you feel like you were funny for the first time in your life.

***

“Here we are,” Wanda says, stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut.

You sigh contently, so incredibly happy compared to the dark place you were at two years ago. Sometimes, you still felt the weight of how unloved you had felt. Of how you never felt good enough, never felt worthy of someone caring for you. And every time you ran back into your thoughts, Wanda was there to pull you out of your head and reassure you that you deserved the world. Telling you that she would do her best to give it to you.

It all felt surreal. Gently, you hear Wanda open the car door to the passenger side. The simple action made your heart flutter. “Ready, detka?” she says, smiling at you.

Nodding, you exit the car, planting a kiss on her lips before she shuts the door.

Putting her sunglasses on, she comments, “You know, you’re pretty American for having a cottage. With the beach, and everything.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you ask.

“Yep, because you’re an adorable American,” she smiles, kissing you quickly.

It wasn’t fair of her, to make you feel this much.

***

Wanda’s on a mission in Russia, and you miss her desperately. You found yourself struggling whenever you were alone, still grappling with the feelings of whether you were enough from two years ago. Your rock was all the way on another continent, too far to reassure you of the constant echoes of awful thoughts that rang in your head.

“Can I go with you?” you had asked as you sat on Wanda’s bed while she packed the night before with you.

Wanda kisses your lips. “As much as I would love that, detka, I want you to be safe,” she rubs your arm.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you say quietly.

Wanda frowns. “I know, baby, I’m gonna miss you too. So much.”

You nod, and as you sit quietly on her bed, Wanda can tell your head is somewhere else.

Grabbing your hand softly, Wanda sits in front of you, staring into your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you look away.

Kissing your forehead gently, Wanda pulls back with encouraging and comforting eyes. “I love you,” she says softly.

And it’s all you need, because it’s the most delicate, soft, unspoken gesture you’ve ever heard. One that screams that she cares, that she won’t leave you, that she won’t hurt you, and that she truly honestly loves you with all her heart and you can feel it radiating off of her.

Wanda Maximoff made you feel like you were the most important person in the world to her.

Little did you know, you truly were, and to confirm it Wanda had a ring in her back pocket which she bought a week after she started dating you with her at all times.

“I love you too,” you reply, giving her a small smile. “I just want to be anywhere you are,” you confess as you start blushing timidly.

“Oh? That’s cute,” Wanda teases.

“Shut up,” you groan, hiding your face in the crook of her neck.

Wanda laughs, kissing your temple. “I do too, detka.”

“Really?” you pull your head away to meet her gaze.

“Of course,” Wanda smiles. “Being with you is my favorite thing in the world. Why wouldn’t I want it all the time?”

You blush furiously. “You know, if you keep this up–”

“What?” she asks gently.

I might just marry you. You think, oblivious to the fact that Wanda’s already had the thought countless times.

You shake your head with a smile.

***

When Wanda’s on her mission, she buys a small chocolate chip cookie keychain that reminds her of you. They were your favorite food, and every Sunday, Wanda made sure to bake a fresh batch for the week so you never had to run out of one of your favorite things.

And when she gets back, only seconds after she puts her bags down she feels her arms fill with you and her heart becomes so much bigger than it was before. She kisses you deeply, smiling to herself at the person she loves in her arms.

Whispering against your lips, she pulls the keychain out of her left back pocket, her right one carrying the ring she’s planning on proposing to you with. “I bought this for you,” she tells you, letting it dangle off of her index finger by the silver ring that she later finds out gets attached to the zipper of your favorite backpack.

And God, Wanda would be a fool not to be eternally charmed by the way your eyes light up with joy once you see it, the happy tears in your eyes making her want to hug you so tightly and never ever let go. “I love it,” you reply, grabbing it softly as if it’s made of the most delicate china. “I love you,” you kiss her lips.

Wanda shakes her head. “So American,” she teases, referring to your love for chocolate chip cookies.

“Yeah, but I’m your American,” you reply cheekily.

Wanda nods, kissing you once more. “My beautiful, perfect, so American girlfriend.”

Wanda feels her heart skip a beat when you blush all over.

***

You’re crying. You’re crying because you saw Natasha for the first time since the two of you broke up, and her words don’t hurt any less than they did when the two of you were dating. Natasha had just seen you and Wanda, wrapped up in each other’s arms, admiring one another at Tony’s enormous birthday party.

Once Wanda had left to go let Pietro in, who had run back all the way from Australia where he was taking a break from the superhero life, Natasha had come up to you. Ready to poison your world with her venomous tongue.

“You know, she’ll get sick of you,” Natasha had snapped you out of your thoughts as you stared at the door where Wanda had just left.

“What?” you reply as you turn to face her on the leather stool. Her calculating and judging eyes causing you to gulp. Even now, you still felt her hurtful words ring the bells of your insecurities back to life.

“She’ll get sick of you,” Nat repeats. “I mean, why do you think we broke up? You’re boring, you’re rude, and you’re obsessive. All my friends told me about how you couldn’t shut up about me when we were together. I mean, clingy much?”

“I didn’t mean–” you try.

Nat scoffs. “Yeah, whatever.” She takes a sip of her drink.

You feel the need to apologize, for you never meant to make Nat feel suffocated that way, when suddenly a brunette witch is making her way over to you. And she looks like she’s about to rain down hellfire on Natasha.

“Excuse me.” Wanda’s eyes narrow as she wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I believe she’s my girlfriend, Natasha.”

“Just warning her.” Natasha shrugs. “And you.”

You stare at the spot on your lap, deciding on whether or not to blink away the tears in your eyes or cry, because ever since you dated Natasha you had learned how to cry silently so you wouldn’t bother her.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, and her accent comes out thicker than ever before, “And what would you be warning me about?”

“Of her,” Natasha shrugs.

Wanda’s eyes go red before she calms down, and her arm around you tightens in the most gentle way somehow. “I’ll give you five seconds to leave us alone.”

“You’re gonna regret this, Wanda,” Natasha says.

“The only person with regret is you, for never treating her the way she deserves to be treated,” Wanda replies sharply.

Natasha scoffs, turning around. “As if she deserves anything.”

Suddenly, Natasha’s glass explodes in her hands, ‘causing everyone in the party to look her way. You can tell it was Wanda based on the way you saw a spark of red flash in her hands briefly.

Natasha turns and narrows her eyes venomously at Wanda, before stalking off to go clean the cut that’s very visible on her hand.

You’re still staring at the same spot on your lap when Wanda turns to face you, cupping your cheeks in her hands as she looks at you.

“Are you alright, milaya?” she asks, the heartbroken expression on your face making her heart drop to her stomach. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this at all.

“Do you hate me?” you whisper brokenly, the tears finally escaping your eyes as you can no longer keep them at bay.

“No, baby, no,” Wanda wipes the tears running down your cheeks with her thumbs. “I could never, ever, hate you.”

“What did I do to make her hate me so much? What’s wrong with me?” you ask with a sob.

“Nothing,” Wanda feels her own tears build up behind her eyes. “Nothing is wrong with you, baby, you’re the most amazing human being I know.”

And Wanda’s heart breaks even more, as you cry more and more, silently.

Somehow, it’s even more heartbreaking than if you were to ever make a sound.

You cry even more as you replay tonight’s events in your head, still in the navy blue dress Wanda had picked for you for the party, telling you how pretty you looked once she saw you in it. You felt so wrong, like you didn’t deserve any of what Wanda was giving you, like she would get sick of you the same way Natasha did. Because maybe Natasha was right, maybe you didn’t deserve anything. Because if you did deserve anything, then why would Natasha treat you so awfully, why would your mom have left you as a child and why would your brother leave you too, so overridden with the pain of the lack of your mom that he couldn’t bear to watch you, leaving you with your abusive father who reeked of alcohol every night.

The thoughts sicken you, because your mother never ever meant to have cancer. And it wasn’t your brother’s fault that he couldn’t handle a life without your beautiful, loving mother in it. And it wasn’t your father’s fault either that he had a drinking problem.

Maybe it was all your fault.

You hear the knock on your door, and you can tell by the pattern that it’s Wanda. “Detka, can I come in?” she says gently from the other side of the door.

Quietly, you get up from your bed, turning the doorknob, and opening the door. The motions feel unnatural to you, like you’re some stranger who’s been playing the role of having a loving girlfriend, but your world was shattered earlier and you don’t know who you are anymore. You don’t know if you deserve anything anymore.

“Oh, baby,” Wanda says heartbroken as she wraps you in a tight hug.

This was your fault, seeing the sad look in her eyes you realize that you hurt Wanda.

You hurt the one person in your life whom you never meant to hurt.

It was all your fault.

You hug her back, because maybe if you hug her back it would make her feel better and it would be less of your fault.

Wanda tightens her grip on you, wanting to convey how much she loves you. Wanting to convey how much you didn’t deserve any of this. Wanting to wordlessly tell you that despite all the pain you’ve been through you handle it with so much grace, and you’re the most beautiful person Wanda’s ever met in her life.

But Wanda can tell that you’re not okay, that your mind is somewhere else–

Then she hears you sob. And it’s the first sound of a cry that Wanda’s ever heard from you.

And Wanda can feel the tears fall onto her shoulder and she holds you tighter, she holds you tighter and tighter until Natasha’s hurtful words are overrun by Wanda’s overwhelming love she feels for you.

Wanda can only hope you understand what she’s saying.

And once you’re done crying at 3 in the morning, she keeps hoping.

***

Wanda’s worried about you, ever since Nat had spoken to you at the party you had been more quiet. More reserved. Like your mind was somewhere else.

“Baby?” she asks one morning when you’re both alone in the compound and Wanda wants to cook you breakfast.

“Yeah?” you ask, staring absentmindedly at the sitcom running on the TV.

You were ecstatic when the first day Wanda met you, you had both found out about your shared love for sitcoms.

But Wanda watches you know, the complete lack of interest in Malcolm in the Middle worrying her because it was your favorite sitcom of them all and typically you would have a completely enraptured look in your eye. The same one Wanda was lucky enough to receive from you.

Frowning, Wanda pauses in her cooking, turning the heat off the stove and coming over to meet you on the couch.

You don’t register when Wanda sits down next to you, still lost in your thoughts as she gently grabs your hand.

“What’s going on?” she asks softly, running her thumb over the back of your hand.

“Nothing,” you reply, sitting up slightly.

“Detka, I know you’re not okay. And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but just know that I care about you, ok?” Wanda kisses your forehead gently. “I’m always here if you need me.”

You frown, feeling so guilty that you were making Wanda worried about you. You couldn’t pretend to be okay, and now you’ve hurt her even more. How long until she gets sick of you? How long until she gets sick of the feelings you give her?

“How long–” your voice breaks. “How long until you get sick of me?”

“What?” Wanda asks, dumbfounded.

“I keep making you worry, keep making you need to constantly reassure me, and it must be so tiring for you, so,” you shut your eyes tightly. “How long until you don’t want me anymore?”

Wanda’s heart breaks. “Never,” she breathes out. “I could never stop wanting you, even if I tried.” Wanda squeezes your hand tightly. “And I would never want to try.”

“But I’m–” you bite your lip to stop a cry from coming out. “I’m so much to deal with, and I’m not even that interesting, and it would be so much easier for you to date someone who’s actually worthy of how amazing you are–”

Wanda cuts you off with a kiss. Cupping your cheek, she states, “You are so worthy of love, Y/N.”

You stay silent, staring back at her green eyes and feeling them pull you out of toxic puddle that was your thoughts like they always did.

“Loving you is the greatest gift the world has ever given me,” Wanda says, rubbing her thumb against your cheek. “And I could never get sick of you. You are the most incredible thing to ever exist, and loving you, for me, is like breathing. It’s the easiest thing in the world, and it’s everywhere.”

“I just feel like I’m putting you through a lot,” you say quietly.

“You’re not,” Wanda shakes her head. “You’re actually making everything I go through easier than it’s ever been.”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“Sorry for what?” Wanda asks. “This is everything I love about you.”

You laugh. “You like when I start crying and get insecure?”

“I like every part of you. And if you need me to calm you down every single day, I’ll do it in a heartbeat,” Wanda replies, and you smile slightly at her. “But I do hate seeing you cry.” She frowns.

You scoff. “I hate feeling like this,” you mutter.

“And I hate Natasha for making you feel like this,” Wanda pulls you into her side and you tuck your head into her shoulder, closing your eyes.

“I don’t think it was just her,” you say softly. “I think it was a buildup of everything, and Nat just amped it up more. I never really worked through how much that relationship affected me before jumping into one with you.”

Wanda nods. “Do you want me to give you some space for you to figure it out?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around her waist. “I never want–” you stop yourself, worrying she’ll find you too clingy as Nat’s words ring in your head again. Space from you.

Wanda doesn’t mean to, but your thoughts echo so loudly in your head that she can’t help but hear them. And she wants to kill Natasha all over again. “What did Natasha say to you at the party?” she asks quietly.

“Um,” you grapple with your feelings as you relive that night, when Nat made all of your feelings of inadequacy come alive once more. Wanda frowns, rubbing her palm against your side to calm you down. “She said, that–, that you would get sick of me eventually. That I’m boring. And rude. And,” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “Too clingy.”

“What a bitch,” Wanda mutters.

“Do you think she’s right?” you ask Wanda, squeezing her waist tighter as your fears that Wanda will get sick of you come alive, and these are your last few moments with the person who lit up your entire world.

“No, baby, she’s so so wrong,” Wanda replies, her eyes turning red before she looks down at you and frowns as she sees your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“The clingy one hurts me the most,” you whisper. “All I wanted was to love her and for her to love me back. But maybe I’m too much.”

You recall all the times you memorized her new coffee order every few months, the countless hours you had spent re-reading her self-help books, memorizing every fact, listening to all of her favorite songs from the information you had gathered about her. And the way you felt so proud to be Natasha’s girlfriend, the greatest assassin in the world and she chose you to be her partner. How could you have not talked about her?

Maybe it was too much?

“I think you’re the most amazing person in the world,” Wanda says, as her powers run amok once more and she sees all the lovely gestures you had done for Natasha. “I think Nat was an idiot for not seeing how kind and loving you are. And you are never too much.”

You look up at Wanda as she looks down at you with a small smile. Kissing your forehead softly, she says, “You’re not boring. And you’re not rude. In fact, you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met, as well as the kindest. And if someone is lucky enough to be loved by you, they should realize how rare it is to find someone as incredible as you.”

You shake your head softly in disbelief. “How do you do it?” you ask.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like I’m actually worthy of being loved.”

Wanda kisses you deeply this time.

“You are, I’m just the one who helps you see it.”

Later that night, Wanda hears you on the phone with one of your oncology friends, and she hears you talk about her. How amazing she is, and how lucky you are to have her. And when she sees you flop back onto the bed through the crack of your door, an elated expression on your face, as you speak dreamily about the way Wanda dresses and the books she reads, Wanda thinks that you’re the greatest thing the world has ever created. And she knows it’s true.

***

“Baby?” you say, turning to face Wanda in the dark in your bed. Wanda has her arm over your side, and she hums groggily as she was about to fall asleep.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, before slowly saying, “It’s just, I really, really, love you.”

Wanda smiles. “You woke me up to say that?”

“I didn’t know you were basically asleep,” you reply guiltily. “Guess the mission wore you out more than a night-shift wears me out. Sorry.”

Wanda kisses you. “Don’t be, you’re adorable.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, milaya.”

“It’s really hard to sleep when you’re next to me,” you confess.

Wanda grins into the dark. “Oh, yeah? Is it because I’m so attractive?”

You laugh. “Yes,” you reply, and Wanda’s grin turns smug. “But it’s also because it’s so surreal that I’m with you, at all. And it’s even more surreal that you’re in my bed with me, cuddling me, and you’re so warm and soft and it just makes me want to–”

Wanda cuts you off with a kiss.

God, she was so in love with you.

You grin sheepishly, “Sorry.”

Wanda rolls her eyes. “Stop apologizing, detka.”

“Okay,” you nod.

“Feel better?” Wanda asks, and you understand her question. It’s been a month since Nat confronted you at the party, and moments like this were a big step for you in coming to terms with yourself overall.

“Much,” you reply. “Especially because you’re here.”

Wanda smiles. “I’m glad.”

Wanda’s heart swells when she cuddles you once more, and you hold her hand that’s around your middle as tightly as you can. She feels an overwhelming love for you, and she thinks about the ring in her desk drawer back in her room.

***

Wanda’s laughing at your joke on the couch. Wanda’s the only one who has ever laughed at your jokes, and it makes you feel so much lighter than ever before, while also making you fall deeper and deeper in love with the woman you’re lucky enough to call your girlfriend.

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever laughed at my jokes,” you say.

Wanda smiles. “Well, then everyone else doesn’t have as sophisticated sense of humor as we do.”

You give her an incredulous look. “The first day I met you, you laughed at a stupid pun I made.”

“Exactly,” Wanda shrugs. “Sophisticated.”

You shake your head with a smile, taking a sip of your tea as your heart feels bigger and more full than you ever thought possible.

And Wanda watches you, awestruck at your striking beauty that she struggles to believe is reality.

***

Wanda’s sick. Wanda’s sick and you’re worried because your girlfriend is in pain and you don’t want her to be.

When you came in this morning back from your shift in the hospital, excited to see her, your heart had dropped at seeing her pained expression in bed, her voice croaky and her brows furrowed as she battled the feeling of nausea that overcame her. Not to mention her shivers as her high fever caused her even more misery.

You sat down on the edge of her bed, softly brushing away the strands of hair that stuck to her forehead due to her high temperature, ‘causing Wanda to stir eventually.

Slowly opening her eyes, her eyes lit up as she greeted you with a soft smile. “Hi,” she whispered.

Frowning, you put the back of your hand against her forehead. “Baby, you’re warm,” you told her, suddenly very worried.

“I’m fine,” Wanda replied, trying to sit up but letting out a groan. “I’m not fine,” she joked, as you helped her lay back down.

“Stay here, I’ll go get you some medicine,” you said, kissing her forehead quickly before heading to the cabinets full of medicine in the bathroom.

“Don’t take too long, Dr. L/N,” Wanda said sleepily as she shut her eyes once more, trying her best to fight her exhaustion so she would still be awake when you came back.

Shaking your head with a smile, you searched through the cabinets to find the proper medication to give her, already planning how you were going to take care of her the rest of the day and for as long as she needed you while she combatted her illness. Despite your worry, you were grateful that you were finally able to take care of your girlfriend, the same way she did to you every single day.

Wanda’s condition had subsided slightly, particularly her fever which had gone down quite a bit, but she was still feeling most of the effects of the sickness.

“Wands,” you say softly, putting the bowl of soup on her nightstand as you kneel down on her side to wake her up gently with a kiss on her cheek.

Wanda wakes from her slumber with a groan, still slightly disoriented causing you to frown.

“Is your fever back?” you ask, putting the back of your hand on her forehead like you had done previously this morning. It wasn’t as hot as before, calming your worry a bit.

Wanda shakes her head before resting it on your shoulder, letting out a sigh. “You’re so good,” she says, turning her head to kiss your neck gently.

“Good at what?” you say with a laugh.

“Just good,” she says contently, relaxing in your presence.

“I made you some soup,” you tell her, kissing her temple as she hums.

“I don’t want it,” she says, muffled by your shirt.

“I’ll stay with you if you have a couple bites,” you offer.

Wanda removes her head from your shoulder and raises a brow. “You were going to stay with me anyways,” she says matter-of-factly, trying her best to appear intimidating.

You smile at her cute expression. Wanda could never be intimidating, especially now when her hair was slightly tousled from her pillow and she was wearing an old T-shirt of yours that was full of wrinkles from her time in bed.

She was about as intimidating as a baby sea otter.

“Not anymore,” you shrug, ‘causing Wanda to narrow her eyes slightly.

“Well, you better,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Otherwise I’m never getting over this fever.”

You smile once more.

“You know, you’re really cute when you’re sick.”

“You’re insufferable when I’m sick.”

You laugh, “Please, will you have some soup?”

“Only if you cuddle with me when I’m better.”

“I’ll cuddle you right now if you eat a couple spoonfuls,” you say. “I’ll even feed you.”

“I don’t want to get you sick,” Wanda says before her eyes narrow at you once more. “Also, I’m not a child.”

“I got my flu shot last month,” you tell her, reassuring her worries. “And you’re kinda acting like one,” you tease, before kissing her forehead. “But it’s really cute.”

Finally, Wanda relents. “Fine, I’ll have some soup.”

“Thank you, love.”

You grab the soup from the nightstand and hand it to her, and as she eats you rest your head on her shoulder, one of Wanda’s top 3 favorite ways to be next to you.

She eats about half before she’s full, and you tell her you’re proud of her before heading off to the kitchen to put the bowl away.

However, as you get up from her bed, Wanda stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“Where are you going?” she asks, sitting up slightly as she was already laying back down with the blankets tucked under her chin.

“To put the bowl away,” you respond gently. “Keeping it in your room might make it start to smell like chicken noodle.”

Wanda scrunches her nose, accepting your answer quickly making you laugh.

But as you’re about to leave, you see Wanda watching you, staying sitting up and you can tell that it’s because she wants to wait for you to come back.

Making your way back over, you gently tell her, “Go back to sleep,” you brush a strand of hair away from her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. “You’re nauseated again, I can tell.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” she asks.

“Of course,” you kiss the tip of her nose.

And when she lies back down, groggily croaking out the words, “so american,” most likely commenting on the chicken noodle soup, you smile, you smile because you know that’s Wanda’s way of saying she loves you.

But to Wanda, it’s also her way of saying she wants to marry you.

***

“This isn’t fair,” you pout as Wanda beats you in Mario Kart once again.

She had been better for about a week, and she was back to herself which you were ecstatic about.

“Baby, how is this not fair,” she laughs.

“You’re way better than me! You had all those years where you played against Pietro, who’s unbeatable, and I only learned ‘cause Sam forced me to when no one else was available!” You cross your arms over your chest.

Wanda smiles at the cute pout on your face before kissing you softly, and your expression eases up a bit.

“We can play something else if you want,” she offers, pecking your lips once more.

“Can I just cuddle you?” you ask, suddenly feeling very shy.

“You don’t even have to ask,” Wanda says, opening her arms for you to lay down on her, as she leans back against the pillow of the couch, your head resting on her chest as you’re comforted by the sound of her heartbeat.

You wrap your arms around her waist as she grabs the blanket from the other side of the couch, and pulls it over the two of you, making sure you’re completely covered from the neck down before she tightens her arms around you.

“I love you,” you say softly, closing your eyes as you relax to the feeling of Wanda stroking your hair gently as you lay on her chest.

“I love you too, detka. So much,” she says, watching as sleep starts to overcome you due to how exhausted you were from being on call for the past two weeks.

“You know, it’s really not fair,” you mutter sleepily.

“What, me winning over 10 times in a row on the Wii?” she laughs.

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not fair of you to make me feel this much.”

Wanda responds by kissing your forehead gently, and you burrow deeper into her chest as you fall into a deep slumber.

Wanda smiles, content and so so happy as she watches you, feeling the weight of the ring in her back pocket.

***

It was your one year anniversary, and Wanda had planned a small weekend getaway for the two of you as you had been exhausted due to a bunch of new projects you were taking on.

Wanda was so proud of you, but a lot of the time she felt worried because of how heavy of a workload you were taking on.

You were planning on coming over later tonight, as you had to work extra hours in the hospital.

So, to make you feel better and to let you know about your vacation Wanda made sure wouldn’t interfere with your schedule, she had spent all day cooking you a wonderful 3-course meal which consisted of all of your favorite foods. As well as a large batch of chocolate chip cookies that would last you a solid month so long as you put them in the freezer.

She smiled at the thought of you as she rolled out the homemade pasta she was making you, how you had turned her world upside down as she navigated the unfamiliar territory of being the newest and youngest Avenger, just having you made her feel like she was so much better than before, and Wanda fell so so deeply in love with you and she never wanted to stop.

She wanted to give you the world.

She thought about how kind you were, how you cared so deeply for everyone, always stopping to help wherever and whenever you could. Wanda felt so special to be the partner of someone so undeniably incredible.

Suddenly, the oven beeps, snapping her out of her thoughts as she pulls out the chicken to go along with your pasta, the appetizer of calamari already prepared as it layed on a wire rack, as well as the chocolate chip cookies which she had prepared earlier in the day to make sure she had time to make enough.

Once she finished up, she plated the table for the two of you as she had kicked everyone out for her special dinner with you, wanting you all to herself. She smiled as she lit the candles and set up the plates along with the knives and forks, laying the plate of calamari in the middle as she kept her entree and dessert a secret from you.

Hearing her phone go off, she grins once she sees that you’ve texted that you’ve just arrived.

Taking her apron off as quickly as possible, she rushes downstairs to open the door for you, exhilarated at the thought of seeing you.

Swinging the door open, you smile softly at her while she grins, bursting forward to wrap you in a tight hug.

“Hi,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around her. “Happy anniversary.”

“Can you take a break from doctoring once in a while?” she mutters into your neck.

“I wish,” you say, wrapping your arms tighter around her.

Once she lets go, she grabs your hand to pull you upstairs, excited to surprise you.

“Wanda, what’s the rush?” you ask as you make your way up the stairs.

“I missed you too much, come on!” she says, making you laugh.

Once you finally make it to the top floor, Wanda stops you from walking any further. “Close your eyes,” she says.

You shoot her a look.

“Trust me,” she says, pecking your lips quickly.

Closing your eyes, you say, “What now?”

“Okay, I’m gonna guide you,” she says excitedly as she stands behind you, starting to lead you to the dining room table.

“This is not how I expected our anniversary to go.”

“Just trust me,” Wanda says.

Nodding, you continue to walk in the direction Wanda guides you before she stops you in place.

“Okay, ready?” she says and you nod. “Three, two, one, open your eyes!”

You open your eyes, and they widen in shock as you see the most beautiful candlelit dinner you’ve ever seen in your life.

Wanda has swapped out the regular dining room table for a round one covered in a shiny white tablecloth, as well as swapped out the regular wooden chairs for more expensive looking ones that match the elegance of the table. The plates and utensils are arranged perfectly, along with the restaurant quality napkins that were beautifully folded so they were standing upright, absolutely nothing was out of place, and the calamari in the middle was cooked to perfection, the smell wafting towards you no doubt making you hungry.

It looked like Wanda had taken the appearance of a michelin star restaurant and copied it to perfection right here in the Avengers compound.

But what was even more unbelievable was the string of lights she had arranged all throughout the room, from every nook and cranny, the lights brought a hope to the dinner that nearly brought tears to your eyes at how romantic and calm they made the room feel.

And finally, to top it all off, right in the middle of the array of candles on the table was a large vase of your favorite flowers.

Flowers you had only ever mentioned to her once when she asked you, and you had told her not to worry about it because you could only ever get them in New Zealand.

“What do you think?” she asks, coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

You quickly turn to wrap her in a tight hug, squeezing so tightly you’re surprised she can even breathe. “I love you,” you breathe out. “So much.”

Wanda laughs. “Does that mean you like it?” she says teasingly before continuing, “I love you too,” she kisses the crown of your head.

Burrowing deeper into her, you mumble, “I can’t believe...I can’t believe I’m really here.”

You remember how awful you felt 2 years ago, how hopeless you felt. How unworthy you felt. Now, standing here in Wanda’s arms, who you’re still convinced is much too good to be true, feeling so so loved, everything feels surreal.

“I have the same thought about you,” Wanda says, her powers running amok as she accidentally reads your mind again and hears your thoughts about her. “You’re too good. Sometimes I can’t believe you exist.”

“Stop,” you say as your cheeks turn red against her neck.

“Happy anniversary,” she says softly. “I have another surprise for you.”

That makes you look up. “What is it?”

“Join me for dinner and I’ll tell you,” she says cheekily.

“Why can’t you tell me now?” You pout.

“Nice try, but I didn’t spend all day cooking this meal for nothing.” She runs her hands up and down your arms. “Besides, you deserve a nice relaxing dinner after all the work you’ve done the past few weeks.”

You look up at her with a shimmering look in your eyes and a lovesick smile on your face.

“What?” she laughs.

“Just happy,” you reply, kissing her lips.

“You deserve it,” Wanda says easily. “Now come on!”

She leads you over to the table by the hand, pulling out your chair for you as you sit down, planting a quick kiss on your lips before sitting down across from you.

You share countless smiles and laughs as you have the best dinner of your life, zoning out a couple times as Wanda talks and you simply admire her for everything she is.

And as you bite into your chocolate chip cookie after Wanda has revealed the enormous batch she made, she’s telling you what the surprise from earlier was.

“So, I’ve checked your schedule,” she says excitedly. “And since you’re free this weekend I booked us a vacation in Palm Springs! The weather’s perfect, and you’ll finally get to relax after working so hard, plus, they have amazing grass tennis courts and I know you’ve been wanting to get back into playing since you don’t have much time for it anymore–”

“Wanda,” you cut off softly, shaking your head.

You can’t even begin to comprehend that tonight is real at all.

“What?” she asks, looking at you with a smile.

“Every time I start to think you couldn’t get more perfect you just…”

“I get the same feeling about you,” she says, making you blush. “But I’m not perfect.” She takes a hold of both of your hands and rubs her thumbs over the backs softly. “However, I do love you, so much, and I want to show it.”

“Well, you’re perfect for me,” you reply, meeting her gaze and smiling softly as the two of you just stare at each other. But suddenly, it clicks in your head. “How did you know I used to play tennis?”

Wanda blushes before she starts off shyly, “Um, before we started dating I went to your hospital to see if you were there, but you weren’t so I may have asked your oncology friends a couple things about you.”

“So you stalked me?” you tease.

“I couldn’t help it I had a crush on you!” she defends, letting go of your hands and putting her head into her arms. “I still have a crush on you.”

“How embarrassing,” you comment with a chuckle.

“It’s not embarrassing,” she defends as she lifts her head from her arms. “Have you seen how pretty you are?”

You blush, ducking your head down so your hair covers your face slightly. Even after a year of dating Wanda always managed to fluster you to no end.

“Wow, now who’s embarrassed,” Wanda teases back.

“Shut up, I hate you,” you say, embarrassed.

“Wow, that’s not very American of you,” she says with a chuckle.

“Take that back,” you say, lifting your head and narrowing your eyes at her.

“If you say yes to the Palm Springs trip.”

“I thought I already said yes.”

“Not verbally,” she emphasizes.

“I’ll go anywhere you go,” you say easily.

“Cute cop-out, but I need the word yes,” she says, sitting up and kissing your lips quickly before sitting back down.

“Yes,” you relent with a smile. “I’ll go to Palm Springs with you.”

“Good,” she smiles before a mischievous twinkle brings itself out in her eyes. “So I’ll get to watch you play tennis all weekend. I can already imagine how hot that’ll be…”

“Why do you insist on teasing me?”

“‘Cause you look so cute when you’re flustered.”

You shake your head, taking a bite of your chocolate chip cookie to distract yourself from the way Wanda was making you feel.

But instead she decides to mess with you even more, softly saying the words “so american” as she watches you.

And Wanda telling you she loves you made you the most flustered of all.

***

You had gotten Wanda a necklace for your anniversary, and she had gotten you a bracelet with both of your initials on them.

Now, waking up in your hotel in Palm Springs, you smile once you see the bracelet on your wrist. You turn in bed to see if Wanda was there, but you frown once you see the empty spot next to you.

Where was she?

You wonder where she could be, because she would never leave to go to breakfast without you, nor would she head out without telling you where she was going after waking you up with a soft kiss.

You don’t know where she could have gone.

But soon, your question is answered as she enters the room, a large tray of your favorite breakfast foods in her hands as she greets you with a smile.

You tilt your head in confusion.

“Hi,” she says, setting down the tray and kissing you on the lips. “I made you breakfast.”

Your heart flutters and your stomach fills with butterflies. “How did you manage to do this?”

“Turns out that locked room isn’t a closet, but a tiny kitchen,” she explains, pointing to the aforementioned room. “I found out after I woke up early this morning by accident.”

“I missed you,” you say, hugging her side. “Where’d you get the food from?”

“Magic,” she replies easily.

“Oh, right, I forgot I’m dating a witch,” you chuckle, hugging her tighter.

“I’m not a witch,” she says defiantly. “I was voted most powerful Avenger at Tony’s ceremony last year.”

“They’re right,” you say, looking over to the breakfast tray and smiling once you see the gorgeous rose that lays on its side. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not a witch.”

“I’m a not-witch who’s really in love with you.”

“And I’m a not-doctor who’s really in love with you.”

“Well, then we agree to disagree,” she says, putting the tray in front of you, silently telling you to start enjoying your meal.

“Mhm,” you say, eating a forkful of the omelet she had prepared and moaning at the taste. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

“My mother taught me, back in Sokovia,” she says quickly, heat flushing to her cheeks after she hears the sound you had made. Shifting from her position on the bed to move behind you, she gently shifts you forward slightly so she can sit behind you and outstretch her legs as she wraps her arms around your middle.

You lean your head back to rest against her shoulder. “She taught you really well,” you say, closing your eyes.

“Detka, are you gonna fall asleep while eating breakfast?” she laughs.

“No, I’m just savoring this moment,” you reply, kissing her shoulder. “And I want to savor this breakfast too.”

“Yeah? I’m that good?” she says with a chuckle.

“You are,” you say, opening your eyes to look up at her. “In fact, I might marry you right now if you keep this up.”

“I’d do it every day just for you,” she replies, kissing your lips.

And when you smile at her, that beautiful smile that makes Wanda’s heart beat faster than she can comprehend, she seriously considers pulling out the ring from her pocket to propose to you right in your hotel room.

***

“Baby? Wake up,” Wanda whispers, bright and early in the morning on September 8th.

You groan, not wanting to get up.

Wanda laughs. “Come on, it’s your birthday,” she says, kissing you on your forehead.

“Doesn’t that mean I should get to sleep in,” you grumble, burying yourself deeper into the pillows. “Come cuddle with me,” you say, sleepily patting the spot next to you where Wanda had slept last night.

“As much as I would love to, if I cuddle you right now you’re only gonna end up sleeping for another hour. And there’s a bunch of things prepared for your special day,” she says softly.

“Another hour sounds great, thanks,” you mumble as you start to feel yourself drift off.

“No, no, no, come on!” she laughs, gently pulling the blankets off your body.

“It’s cold,” you groan as the air of the room starts to wash over your body.

“Because you and I sleep in negative degrees,” Wanda says teasingly before gently sitting down on your bed to hug you tightly.

After a few minutes, you accept your fate as you sit up with a sigh against the headboard, Wanda letting go of you to grab the glass of water on your nightstand to hand to you.

“Happy birthday,” she says softly as you take a sip of the water and she watches you with a smile.

You kiss her gently. “Thanks.”

“How’d you sleep?” she asks.

“Really well.” You grin. “I got to cuddle with you all night.”

“Last night must have helped too–”

“I will throw this water in your face if you finish that sentence,” you cut her off, starting to blush.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she says with a smirk. “You’re really hot when you’re angry.”

“So, theoretically if I yelled at you, you’d just end up wanting to have sex?”

“First,” she says. “You would never yell at me.” You give her a look, and she just smiles smugly because she knows she’s right. You were way too nice to ever yell at anyone. Even animals. “And second, yes, that’s usually how that works.”

“You’re a middle school boy,” you say with a shake of your head.

Wanda just smiles before kissing you deeply. “Can’t help it.” She brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” you say back.

Wanda grins. “Ready for your birthday?” she asks, standing up from the bed and holding out her hand for you to take.

You nod, smiling as you take it and stand up, kissing her quickly before she starts to take you through the day she had planned.

And when you’re back, cutting into your birthday cake to hand out to the team members (Natasha was on a mission in Africa) which Wanda had baked, you’re back after a sunrise picnic full of your favorite foods, a relaxing walk across the beach, lunch at your favorite diner, a tour of your favorite locations in New York City as well as somehow meeting your favorite tennis player on the Arthur Ashe stadium of the US Open (you have absolutely no clue how Wanda pulled that off), you turn to your incredible girlfriend, who’s already staring at you with an adoring gaze in her eyes.

Softly, you say, “I’m so in love with you.”

You never knew your heart could ever feel this full.

“I’m so in love with you too,” she replies, kissing you in the most gentle way yet somehow still communicating the deepest sense of passion. “Happy 24th, detka.”

You want to cry, you want to cry the happiest tears of your life because, god, you have no idea how you got so lucky to have this woman in your life.

But instead, you kiss her on the lips, hoping it says everything you need to.

And Wanda knows exactly what you’re saying.

***

“Oh, my god, what if it’s too much!” you ramble to Yelena as you pace back and forth in your apartment back home.

“You’ve been dating her for 4 years, you idiot,” Yelena replies, rolling her eyes.

“Exactly! What if this is like a 5-year thing, or 7 years– Or, god, I don’t know!”

“Y/N,” she says, grabbing your attention. “Listen, this is ridiculous. That girl is so disgustingly in love with you, you could tell her you’ve hated her all this time and she would still think you gave her the sun or something.”

You frown. “I could never hate Wanda.”

“God, you two are insufferable,” Yelena sighs.

But Yelena’s secretly so happy to see that you’ve finally found someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated.

“Hey!”

“For God’s sake, just go tell her you don’t like ravioli.”

“It’s her favorite food! We eat it every Thursday just for her!”

“It’s actually you who’s her favorite food.”

“What? Yelena, I swear–”

Later that day, Wanda accepts your revelation with a smile on her face and a kiss on your cheek.

***

“Wanda,” you say softly as you two walk hand-in-hand through the streets of New York.

“Yeah?” she says, turning to face you with a small smile.

“So, I don’t want to assume this,” you pause, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. “But, will you go out to dinner with me?”

Wanda grins. “We’ve been dating for four years and you don’t want to assume that I’ll go to dinner with you?”

“Well, you might be busy!” you defend.

Wanda laughs. “I’m never too busy for you, milaya.”

“You’re just saying that. What if there’s a criminal who shows up out of the blue and you’re needed for superhero business or something…”

“Then we’ll reschedule,” Wanda says, shrugging. “And I’ll make sure I always have time for you.”

You bite your lip anxiously. “What if…what if you don’t come back one day?” your voice trembles.

“Oh, baby,” Wanda says, hugging you. “I’ll always come back to you.”

“You can’t know that,” you mumble into her shirt.

“But I do,” she says, holding you by your shoulders and pulling away slightly. “Because you’re worth every bit fighting for, and I’ll always make sure that I keep fighting until I see your face again.”

Wanda frowns as she watches the tears roll down your cheeks.

Wiping them away with her thumb, she says softly, “I love you. I’ll always come back to the person I love most in the world.”

“I love you too,” you reply, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she tells you. “I’m always happy to care for you.”

“I’m really hopelessly in love with you,” you say quietly only for Wanda to hear.

“The feeling’s mutual, detka.”

***

Wanda was going to propose to you tonight.

It was almost Christmas, which she had found out in your first year of dating was your favorite time of year (besides her birthday or your guys’ anniversary) because it made you feel like you belonged somewhere.

Wanda smiled while she watched you from the couch, biting the nail of your thumb as you thought carefully of which ornament to put next on the Christmas tree.

She was so in love with you, your work ethic, how much you cared for her, how loved you made her feel. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with you.

“Wanda?” you ask, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, detka?” she replies, looking over at you.

You point to the box of blue and silver ornaments by her feet. “Can you pass me the silver one shaped like a Christmas tree?”

Nodding, she grabs the ornament from the box and makes her way over to you, hugging you from behind as you placed it carefully on the branch only a little bit taller than you.

“How does it look?” you ask with a smile, turning your head slightly to kiss her on the cheek.

“Even better than last year,” she replies, squeezing you tighter.

If someone didn’t stop her soon, she was going to propose to you right then and there.

In order to stop herself, she clears her throat and steps back from you a bit, letting go, hoping you don’t notice her actions.

However, you know her too well, and you turn to look at her with a small furrow of your brows.

Wanda gives an awkward smile. “Um, I’m gonna get started on the cookies,” she says, pointing towards the kitchen.

“Okay,” you say slowly.

Wanda nods, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving you to head towards the previously mentioned room.

Once Wanda’s in the kitchen, she lets out a sigh, wondering how she was going to get through the day without breaking down due to her nerves. Wanda checked her back pocket, making sure the ring was still there, and felt a sense of relief once she felt it’s black box.

She had it planned perfectly. After tonight’s holiday party with the team (which she had exclusively made sure Natasha could not make it), she was going to take you to the coffee shop where you two had first met, then she was going to take you to Shakespeare’s garden where you two had first admitted you loved each other, and she was going to officially propose to you at the firework show she had begged Tony to help her host.

Everything had to be perfect.

“Wanda?” you startled her out of her thoughts as you knocked on the doorway. Furrowing your brows, you ask, “are you alright?”

“What? Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine…” Wanda replies awkwardly, looking down at her feet and shifting awkwardly.

You laugh slightly, “Baby, you haven’t even started on the cookies.” You walk over to her, seeing nothing but two eggs on the counter in front of her and nothing else.

Wanda gulps slightly at your close proximity. How stupid that she had been dating you for 6 years yet you still made her feel like a teenager in high school. “I did…” she says weakly.

“Oh yeah?” you tease. “How delicious if we left out two eggs with milk for Old St. Nick?” You pick up an egg between your fingers to show her.

“It’ll give him something new to try,” Wanda shrugs.

Sighing, you put the egg down, and cup your girlfriend’s cheeks in your hands, rubbing your thumbs over them. “What’s going on?” you say gently.

“Just nervous,” Wanda admits.

“Nervous for what?” you ask, brushing a tendril of hair away from her face.

“You make me nervous,” Wanda says, relenting as she rests her forehead on your shoulder. “You’re so perfect,” she mumbles into your shirt.

Your heart feels like it might explode. “I don’t understand,” you say as you shake your head. “How are you the nervous one yet somehow you still make me feel like I’m gonna burst with happiness?”

Wanda smiles against your shirt. “It’s ‘cause I love you.”

“And I love you,” you reply.

“You know, we still have about 2 hours until Tony’s party…” she says suggestively, starting to kiss her way up your neck.

“More than enough time for you to help me finish the tree,” you say lightheartedly.

Wanda groans. “I hate you.”

“Too late, you’re stuck with me already.” You grin as you grab her hand and lead her into the living room, the cookies unspokenly abandoned.

Little did you know, Wanda wanted nothing more than to be stuck with you for the rest of her life.

And tonight, she was going to make it official.

***

“Why the fuck is it so cold,” Wanda muttered, rubbing her bare arms to warm herself up, before intertwining your hands once again. “It’s way colder than the temperature you and I sleep in.”

“Because Pepper’s here,” you say easily. “And Tony turns the place into an ice box just for her.”

“Can’t he just invite some sort of nano-machine that keeps it cold for her all the time? He’s got the money,” Wanda says bitterly.

You chuckle. “Come on, grumpy,” you start to pull her onto the dance floor. “This ought to warm you up.”

Wanda accepts as you wrap your arms around her shoulders and she wraps hers around your waist, the two of you becoming lost in your own little world as you admire one another in your respective dresses.

“You look so pretty,” she tells you, awestruck at your beauty.

“So do you,” you say, taking her in before resting your head on her shoulder, swaying as the two of you try to stay as close as you possibly can.

Wanda closes her eyes as she rests her cheek on the crown of your head, feeling so content with you in her arms.

“When did you first know?” you whisper next to her ear.

“When you made that stupid pun,” Wanda says, and she giggles once she hears you groan in embarrassment.

“That’s the worst one you could’ve said,” you say, lifting your head up from her shoulder to meet her gaze.

“Can’t help it,” she says, kissing you quickly. “It was so adorable.”

“I still think it’s insane that you actually find me funny,” you shake your head.

“I’ll laugh at all your jokes,” she replies easily. “It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“Are all Sokovians this romantic?”

“Are all Americans this incredible?”

You both grin stupidly at each other before the two of you can’t take it and kiss each other deeply, pouring every ounce of love you feel for one another.

“Nope,” Wanda says as she pulls away. “Just my so American girlfriend.”

You smile, kissing her again, and again, and again.

And Wanda thinks it wasn’t fair of you either, to make her feel this much.

***

“Wanda, where are we going?” you laugh as she pulls you through the streets of New York.

“I need to show you something, come on!” she says, stopping once you realize where she’s brought the two of you.

The coffee shop where you first met.

“What are we doing here?” you ask, unable to stop the cheesy grin that makes its way onto your face.

“It’s a surprise, come on,” she replies, opening the door for you and letting you in. Once she shuts the door behind her, you turn, and your eyes soften once you see the shiny look in her eyes. “I’m taking you on a tour,” she says, guiding you to the back table where you two had first spoken.

“A tour of what?” you say, smiling as you follow her.

“A tour of how much I love you.”

And Wanda only falls deeper and deeper in love once she sees the happy tears in your eyes when she reveals your coffee cup from when the two of you had first met, which she had kept all this time.

***

“No way,” you say with awe as your next stop comes into your line of sight, the coffee cup held safely in your hand at your side.

“And I re-made the batch of cookies we shared that day,” Wanda said, pulling a tupperware of cookies from behind her back as you follow her onto the bridge of Shakespeare’s garden.

“What made you do all this?” you ask, shaking your head in disbelief as you come up to her to wrap your arms around her shoulders.

“It’s a surprise,” she replies, kissing you. “But for now, I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

“I do,” you say easily. “Every day.”

“Good,” Wanda grins. “And I’m gonna keep showing you.”

***

Wanda might not even propose tonight.

In fact, she doesn’t know if she’ll even remember as she’s lost in awe at how beautiful you look under the stars, holding the rail that separates you from the body of water in front of you while standing on top of a craggly rock, the booming fireworks causing your eyes to shine in a way that makes Wanda want to capture this moment forever.

But, she’s on a mission.

And when it came to you, Wanda always put her best foot forward.

“They’re so beautiful,” you say, completely in awe as you watch the colors explode in the sky.

“Just like you,” Wanda says softly.

“You know, I still really want to know why you did all this,” you say, turning to her and smiling once you see her already watching you. “I didn’t miss any special date, did I?”

“Of course you didn’t, your google calendar is already filled to the brim,” she replies with a teasing roll of her eyes.

“Well, if I didn’t have everything booked then you would forget all of your check-up appointments with your doctor,” you reply cheekily.

“You’re already a doctor.”

“Not the right kind of doctor.”

“You’re actually exactly my kind of doctor,” Wanda flirts, making you blush.

“I hate you. That was awful,” you say as you turn away.

And as you watch the fireworks in the sky once again, Wanda decides, now’s the time.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing her nerves, she gets down on one knee.

Then, almost robotically, she pulls out the ring, opening the box slowly, as if any sudden movement would cause the whole thing to shatter.

She just needed you to turn her way.

To turn your head slightly and see her message for you.

I want to spend the rest of my life by your side.

It feels as if time has stopped.

All she feels is the beating of her heart through her chest, the blood pounding in her ears, and her nerves washing over her over and over again– and all she needs is for you to look.

It feels like hours before you–

Then, you do.

And it’s slow, and careful, and gentle, and so you.

You gasp.

And Wanda shakily breathes out, “Will you marry me, detka?”

Both of your hands cover your mouth, and tears build in your eyes.

And Wanda feels the happiest she has ever felt–

When you croak out a yes.

Wanda wants to keep this moment forever. She wants to remember how full her heart feels when she slips the ring onto your finger. The feel of your lips on her own when you kiss her hard through both of your tears and your laughs of disbelief.

It’s the happiest day of her life.

And it’s the happiest day of yours, too.

***

“I’m so, so, in love with you,” you say as the two of you walk back to your shared home, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I’m so in love with you too, detka,” Wanda replies, kissing your temple as she holds you close.

“When you were a kid, did you ever think you were going to have an American girlfriend?” you chuckle.

“I never did,” Wanda admits with a smile. “But I couldn’t be happier that I ended up with a beautiful, so American fiancée.”

You blush at the new title, hiding your reddening face in your fiancée’s neck. “Tonight doesn’t even feel real,” you mumble after a moment.

Wanda laughs slightly. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Suddenly, out of curiosity, you ask, “When did you buy that ring?”

“A week after we started dating,” Wanda says resolutely.

“What?” Your head snaps up from her neck.

“I just knew,” Wanda says, kissing the tip of your nose. “I knew you were going to be my wife.”

“That’s…” you shake your head in disbelief. “Wow.”

Wanda pulls you closer to her. “It was the easiest thing I’ve ever known. Wanna know why?”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because, from the first day I met you, I knew, you were everything to me. And you still are.”

Your eyes start to water. “I’m everything to you?”

“You are,” Wanda nods, kissing the crown of your head with so much tenderness it makes you want to cry.

But, you don’t start to cry because of the kiss.

And you don’t start to cry out of joy although you really, really want to.

No. The tears finally escape your eyes as you realize that you finally have everything you’ve ever wanted.

That you’re finally, finally everything to somebody else.

“You’re everything to me too.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wandamaximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel mcu #mcu #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel #wanda imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wlw post

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pedge-page · 7 months

Note

What about Joel having to spend a night away for work last minute and reader sulking about it when he gets home and blanking him? 🤣 Cue grovelling from Joel lol

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Late From Work

Notes: I must be too yeehaw American because I had to look up what "blanking" someone meant 😂. Anyway, I had so much fun writing this! Decided to make him late rather than spending a whole night away because lets be real, she'd be serving divorce papers for that.

Warnings: brief oral (f receiving) scene; jealous!Reader, Stubborn reader is BACK

18+ ONLY:

- - - -

He knows he fucked up too. Big time.

When he said he’d be home at the latest by 7:00pm and it’s now 7:02 and he’s just getting in the truck leaving the site. And when his call goes to voicemail for the 3rd time, and then the fourth time tells him that the number is no longer valid (he’s been blocked), he knows he’s in Big-Fucking-Trouble.

Doesn’t want to call Tommy up for help to coax partially because he wants to fix this own his own, and partially to save Tommy from your wrath you most certainly will take out on him rather than your absent husband.

He grabbed a bouquet of flowers at the grocery store (he’s already in the doghouse so what’s another 5 minutes added to his sentence) and is currently speeding home, a solid 15mph over the limit. Tonight isn’t even anything special: you had both just come back from a lovely weekend trip on the coast and were just settling back in to your house. But when Joel doesn’t deliver on his word, isn’t home for pizza and Pepsi, and sitting behind you while rubbings your back and belly for a quiet movie night…

Well, he’s never been late since the start of your pregnancy. Doesn’t want to think what hellfire you’re going to spit at him the moment he walks in that door.

So here he is about to walk in that door. He takes a big breath, not feeling this anxious since the he proposed to you, and steps in.

He immediately makes contact with you: standing at the end of the hall, illuminated by the kitchen light with your extra extra large T shirt stretched over your belly and dangling loosely around your thighs, hands by your side, barefoot, despite how often he nags at you to wear socks around the house so your feet don’t get cold. He’s thankful to see you hadn’t packed a suitcase, trying to leave the house with a “my husband doesn’t love me” stunt again.

You clearly had just been walking past when you heard the door, not even fully turning to him but just having your head directed to the entrance the second he walked in. You briefly note the flowers in his hands before your eyes quickly go back to his. He feints an apologetic smile, heart beating so hard. You’re soooo quiet. The calm before the storm.

He gulps hard.

Instead, you turn forward once more and continue walking towards the living room without a word.

You have a hand on your back as you gently collapse onto the couch.

“Baby,” he says meekly, voice all tiny yet determined.

You pull your legs up over a pillow and fold open your book.

He comes to kneel beside you, immediately kissing your shoulder.

You do nothing.

“Baby,” he says more clearly. “I’m sorry, honey. I couldn’t beat the time.”

You flip a page, tilting your head to read the fascinating text on the page rather than listen to your poor husband on his knees for you.

His fights with the sleeve of your shirt. Would you at least look at him? He’s holding the flowers still in his hand, big puppy dog eyes trying their best to plea with you, and with his irresistible pouty lips that get him just about anything he wanted from you. But you only lend him a sigh, flipping yet another page.

So it’s gonna be like that.

"Please, angel. I was tryin' so hard to leave on time like I said. They got the concrete all mixed up and it needed to be set today, was tryin' to get out of there, just couldn't get it moving fast enough, I'm sorry baby I really sped over here fast I can to see ya, couldn't wait a second longer—"

“Oh!” You gasp suddenly.

He’s started, but nonetheless quick to be by you.

You check the clock on the wall and laugh. Time had gotten away from you too. You slam your book and hoist yourself up, on the other end of the couch to avoid his anxious hands fluttering to your aid. You brush past him and start your climb up the stairs.

Joel is right behind you, a bit of hope stirring in him. Its not until you’re walking through your bedroom door—and slamming it right in his face that he gets the message loud and clear.

Perhaps he earned a night on the couch to pray your forgiveness. After finding a suitable vase for the roses, he puffs up his pillow, his back killing him (though he’d never say it aloud while you’re waddling around with a whole 'nother being in your belly for the last few months) and crashes down on the sofa.

He just makes out the light go off under the door in the bedroom before he too is closing his eyes.

Tomorrow brings a new day, and he’s gonna spend every second satisfying his wife. He’s deserves his stay on the couch tonight.

He did NOT deserve this bullshit.

It’s been 3 fucking days since he came home late.

3 days of waking up early, trying to kiss his beautiful wife and baby momma with sweet affirmations and praises, which you dodge and continue about your stubborn ignoring-test. He spent all morning cooking every single food you’d craved since your pregnancy started—waffles, French toast, cinnamon pancakes, toast with special mixed fruit jam you can only get at a grocery store an hour away, scrambled, over easy, poached, hard boiled eggs. All arranged so beautifully on the table, even going as far to put the napkins on the left, after you screeched at him a few months ago for haphazardly having them on either the right or left, and never with the fork consistently on top.

He thought he’d learned his lesson, thought he made more than enough up to you, but no. You breeze right by, making a cup of tea, and go back upstairs to your closed door.

Your sadistic mind had given him false hope when you hadn’t locked the door on him on night number two. He slept in his bed, but you had made a clear parry by slotting between the two of you the infernal pregnancy pillow that Joel had kept in storage since you “Much preferred your husband’s plushy belly and soothing rubs.”

Fat chance tonight.

Every minute he wasn’t telling you how beautiful you are, how amazing you are, how lucky he is, he spends groveling with please forgive me, I’m so sorry, I’m such a worm.

None of it sways you any differently.

By day 4, he’s given up the sweet talk and grand gestures. Goes for a “think like her” kind of mental approach.

He tries to bribe you—either making you a Pepsi float, or even bringing home the famous Hot Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with EXTRA Rainbow sprinkles. But even as he temptingly waves in front of your little wiggly nose, you don’t acknowledge him.

He makes a big show to sigh heavily in defeat, leaving it on the kitchen table alone and trotting helplessly upstairs for a shower.

Less than 7 minutes later he’s come back down to see if you’d given in yet, maybe even telling him what a fantastic husband he is while shoveling your face with ice cream and admitting you were being dramatic.

Instead, you’re still sitting on the couch, exactly as he left you. Of course, the milkshake cup is completely empty, sucked clean of its gooeyness, and there’s a little splotch of chocolate sauce lingering on your chin you had failed to wipe clean.

A start, he thinks.

Still though, you don’t pay him any mind, scrolling on your phone with tight lips.

He wonders how long you could go on with this game.

It’s honestly a fucking terrible miracle—not even since before you were pregnant had you gone this long shutting the fuck up. But now its horrifyingly eerie, like a curse has fallen upon him and he’s doing everything he can to break it, to bring back your nagging and bitching and whining and crying because it would be so much more relaxing than this new kind of psychotic hell you’ve subjected him to.

He starts getting a little more involved: playing with your body, touching you softly with gentle strokes along your thighs and belly. You hadn’t flinched away, or tried moving to another spot on the couch.

Which confirmed one thing to him: your horniness and lack of physical attention from your husband due to your stubborn mind was losing your mental battle to hold out against him.

So Joel doesn’t say anything either as he moves his lips over your breasts, down your swollen belly and kissing his babygirl in your bump. He mumbles, “Mommy is awfully mad at Daddy, think I can cheer her up?”

The baby kicks as if in agreement. His gaze glances up briefly to see if you’re listening.

Your eyes catch and yours quickly dart away, leaning back and pretending to yawn. He snickers before continuing his hot trail of open mouthed kisses until your legs “shift” and “accidentally” part on their own.

He makes sweet, insatiable yet slow love to your pussy, licking a fat strip from your little clenched hole to that hot delicious center that is beyond wet for him—yet another example of how much your body clearly can’t ignore him forever.

But, ever as he brings you to a long needed orgasm, you bite your tongue, absolutely refusing to give him even the slightest sound of satisfaction despite clenching tightly around his thick digits pumping into you. Only letting out a strangled breath through your nose while you stare up to the ceiling, fingers folded across your tummy as if bored.

He wipes away the slick from his mustache. Hell, even he can admit you deserve an applaud for making it through that without uttering a peep to his skills.

Hurts like hell on the inside though that you’re just that mad still.

He had hoped that being forced to drive with him due to your size preventing you from sitting behind the wheel would corner you into talking him, but even then, as he opens the passenger door for you, you climb aboard and slam the door shut without his assistance.

Now the two of you are on your way to yours and Maria’s weekend brunch. Tommy was also coming to drop his girlfriend off, so it would be a good time to catch him up on this unqiuely-pregnant-you madness.

You snatch your purse and hop out of the car, mood going a full 180 and instantly greeting Maria with a warm hug and perky voice. The two of you sit down at a little table way aways from your idiot husband and brother in law.

Tommy nods him over to the bar and Joel grumbles over.

“She ignoring you?” His little brother asks while shelling peanuts.

“Is it that obvious?” Joel shakes his head. He can’t even leave off with Tommy because he knows you won’t answer his texts asking what time you’re done for pickup. So he’s stuck here to wait for you the entire time.

“You try going down on—“

“Yes! Yes I fucking tried.”

“She didn’t like it?”

“Oh no, she came hard. Wouldn’t even whimper for me when she was clenching her little cunt around my fingers—” he says with an aggressive whisper, his pointer and middle fingers shooting up in the air with wild eyes demonstrating the scene, “—and her little numb twitchin’ on my tongue. Didn’t even fucking moan. She’s a stubborn girl but I don’t deserve that.”

Tommy shakes his head with a chuckle. “Damn. That’s just determination right there. Gotta give it to her.”

Tommy excuses himself with a slap to the shoulder, muttering “gotta take a leak” and disappears to the bathroom.

Joel wouldn’t mind having a drink right now, but know’s he’s gotta stay sober to drive you home. A miserable, silent filled drive once again. He glanced at his watch, following each tick of the hand.

“Hi there.”

Joel almost didn’t address the voice of the woman who had gentle snuck up behind him, moving to take Tommy’s seat. She’s probably a little younger than you, a nice kind smile, inviting and warm towards a stranger.

Joel politely smiles back with a little nod.

She offers a sweet “thanks”, a blush creeping on her cheeks before she begins to speak: “Listen, I don’t mean to prude… but I saw you come in and ...I’m usually not so brash—but I was wondering…”

Meanwhile, your baby is beat boxing extra hard today in your stomach. You can’t even focus on eating your salad and keeping up with Maria’s chatter about Tommy’s nose hairs all over the vanity.

Your baby is smart. She knows something is up. You narrow your eyes and look around, finding Joel and company at the bar—

Except the company he is keeping is NOT Tommy but instead, a gorgeous woman tossing her hair and flashing her pearly white teeth off at your husband, who’s giving her his full attention. She’s giggling with him, taking animatedly with her hands, lingering heavy eye contact and touching his watch as if looking for an excuse to get closer.

You forget about the massive planet sized lump in your belly as you instantly stand up, nearly tipping the table and all its dishes and cutlery over.

Maria is calling your name but you don’t have the mind to answer, striding over like a bull towards the bar.

“Hiiiiiiii!”

Joel and the woman both jump at the harsh shrill of an annoying, high pitched, slightly perturbed but faking a smile, voice screeching behind them—the most beautiful voice Joel’s ever heard…and had missed so dearly this week.

The woman looks over to you, seemingly startled that you had interrupted the conversation so brazenly.

“Oh, um, hi,” she offers, blinking off your pregnant belly and abrupt appearance.

“This is Joel,” you boast, pointing the shlump of a man in front of her.

“Ah-Hello—“ she smiles again to him.

You add quickly. “He’s my husband.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m his wife.”

“Ah—I—“

“Annnnnnnnd this is our baby!” You boast, proudly rubbing over that enormous swell of your tumtum so she can see in case it wasn’t the biggest fucking thing in this room. “And… you are?” You ask sweetly.

“Um…” she takes one last glance at Joel, his apologetic shrug saying everything then at you, your hard gaze burning holes into her head. “…leaving,” she says towards you.

“Great answer. I like you :) Bye Bye now!” You wave enthusiastically with a chipper voice and a deadly smile. She nods fretfully and pops off the stool, walking away like a threatened animal.

He just chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at his hands with a grin. “Ya know, she just came over to ask where I got my watch.”

“And did you tell her your WIFE bought it?” You ask, poking your finger at his chest.

He has to hide his crooked smile. It’s the first time you’ve directly spoken to him since Monday. “Yeah, I did. She asked where ya got it, because she was looking for one just like it—for her husband.”

Your finger fidgets slightly, expression drawing a blank at the revelation turning over in your mind.

“……………………………………………....................................oh.”

He rotates his stool to face you. You’re steeping in your thoughts, the confidence faltering just slightly in your mind at the realization of how grossly you had interpreted the situation between that innocent woman and your hubby. He didn’t even care, though. All he could think about was how his heart feels 10x lighter seeing you back in your usual, bold, daring, audacious self. All of your attention on him once again.

“I’ll admit, still felt good havin’ ya come to my rescue.”

You scoff, near offended by his words. “Well duh, you’re mine.”

“That right? Even these last few days?”

Yet another bomb goes off in your head at the second realization—that you had forfeited your punishment to ignore him to the ends of the earth.

You cross your arms defensively anyway. “Well... I…decided.”

“Mmm?”

“That…I needed a back rub. But you clearly you can’t pick up on that on your own so—now I have to verbally tell you.”

“Ah huh. Sure it wasn’t cuz you were jealous? Couldn’t stand me being interested in another woman since my own made it clear she didn’t want me no more? Because my wife decided she couldn’t be patient and wait the extra 13 minutes I was running late before punishin’ me all goddamn week?”

Oh wait—was he really only late by 13 minutes? You could have sworn it was an hour plus!

“That wasn’t 13 minutes! Do you know how to tell time? It was over an hour—“

“Did you set your clock back like I told you to the night before when we got back from the coast, into our own time zone?”

😳

- - - -

Also this is how I see reader getting ate out but trying to be nonchalaunt about it:

conveniently also my favorite shot of Pedro during a photoshoot

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

Note

Hey! I absolutely love your writing! could you maybe write something about Tom x reader. Where she’s working with Josh on a new film? So him and Rachel go to visit on set and he’s a fan? I feel that would be so cute 🥹🫶

Little Visit || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

A/n: look at these lil cute gifs I made of Tom, Josh and Rachel 🥹 I love their friendship. And thank you Anon for this request! I imagined them filming Lady Chatterley’s Lover !!! Reading this back, it’s adorable. 3/4? Fics I’m planning to post today!

Warnings: none :)

Wc: 695

Divider by @pommecita

“Andddd cut!” The director calls out as you let out a sigh of relief, stretching your body as a loud groan escapes your lips. After an exhausting day of non stop filming of your solo scenes, all you felt doing was crashing into the comfort of your bed in your trailer and face time your boyfriend Tom.

As you pack up your things that your brought along with you, Stacey, your assistant, comes up to you. “You have a few visitors,” She says in a sing song voice as you immediately furrow your eyebrows.

“Really?” You say as she hums. You sling your tote bag over your shoulder and follow her as you put your hair into a hair clip. From afar, you could see two guys, one with familiar hair.

You immediately smile knowing who it was as you hurriedly walk to them, a bounce in your step. You open your arms as you squeal seeing the two of them. “Hey sweetheart,” Tom says as you engulf the two in a tight hug.

You wrap your arms around Tom and Josh’s body as the wrap theirs around your frame, both of them rubbing your back knowing how much you love it when people do that.

Although you saw Josh practically everyday because you two were the main characters to the movie you were filming, you were still so happy to see him after a day of not hearing his jokes.

And of course, you were beyond happy seeing Tom again. The last time you saw him in person was 2 weeks ago when he came down to set to visit. Although you were absolutely tired and wished nothing but to shower and lay in bed, seeing your boyfriend and best friend was even better.

You rock the two side to side as you all laugh. As you pull back, you hear a feminine voice call out. “Y/n!” The boys look back as you look in between them. Your eyes lit up, “Rachel!” You squeal as you both run to each other. You had not seen Rachel in the longest time, probably 2 months after the world promo tour came to an end for tbosas.

“She looks happier to see her than us, huh?” Josh jokes as Tom laughs, digging his hands in his pockets as he watches the two of you embrace in a hug, nearly falling over in the process as Josh snaps a few photos of the two of you.

You walked hand in hand with Tom to your trailer, Josh and Rachel behind the two of you. “I’m going to shower, I’ll be back,” You announced as you kiss Tom’s lips before disappearing in your bathroom. The hot water immediately relaxed your bones as you let out a light moan at the feeling.

You came out in your silk pyjamas as it was slowly turning dark outside. The four of you chilled in your trailer, catching up with things before Rachel and Josh decide to go back to his trailer for the night.

“I’ve missed you,” A slight pout makes it your lips as you go on your tippy toes, hooking your arms around Tom’s neck as he breathes your scent that he missed in. “I know, I missed you too,” He mumbles in your hair.

You sit on your boyfriend’s lap as the two of you go through your camera roll from past month or so since you started filming the new movie with Josh.

You tell him the stories behind the pictures as he would watch you intently, a smile on his lips at the sight of you so engrossed in it. “Oh and this one, I was sneezing so much that my eyes were becoming watery so the director decided to start filming the sad scenes,” You laugh as you recall the daisies that Josh would present to you made you highly allergic.

Tom smiles at you lovingly, thinking how lucky he was to have you. “What?” You shyly smile, feeling his stare. “Nothing, you’re just so adorable,” He admits, pulling you to his chest as you let out a small giggle as he kisses your forehead.

#tom blyth #fanfiction #tom blyth x actress!reader #josh andres rivera #rachel zegler #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth fanfiction #social media au #social media #lucy gray x coriolanus #the hunger games #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes

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brairslair · 4 months

Note

(i debated whether or not to ask this anonymously)

so yknow how eddie has a W.A.S.P pin on his vest? can you plz write an eddieXreader scene inspired by their song

Animal (F*** Like A Beast) ?

😅😊

i absolutely love this reqqq, tysm for letting me run with this! hope you like how it turned out @nerdyhooker

Like an Animal - E.M.

18+ ONLY (minors please dni)

a/n: finally figured out an idea i liked for this, and i think it turned out pretty good! although i may have gotten a bit carried away lmao. not sure if this is as rough as you might have had in mind, but i tried to pull as much from the lyrics as possible! i hope you like what i ended up with <3

wc: 5.8k

cw: eventual smut, fem!reader, bartender!eddie + english teacher!reader, kinda fuckboy eddie vibes?, enemies to lovers vibes, light bondage (handcuffsss), p in v sex, unprotected sex (do not do this), oral (fem receiving), pet names (princess, sweetheart, honey, baby), technically drinking and driving, smoking (cigs + i don’t smoke so idfk what i’m talking about), brat reader but she gets super subby, kinda mean but soft dom eddie?, light dacryphilia, these idiots have been head over heels for each other since high school and neither of them knew it bc they’re stupid and stubborn, extremely vague mention of aftercare, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything!

don’t forget to like, reblog, follow, and comment to support my work! it always makes my day, mwah

“well if it isn’t the little princess”

Just like that, nine months down the drain. You massage your temples as you recall the past few days. The countless arguments between you and your, now ex, boyfriend form a persistent migraine between your eyes.

In hindsight, you really should have seen it coming. Your relationship had been rocky for months, but you were so busy with other obligations that you hadn’t had the time to confront any of it head on. Fortunately for you, he was more than willing to step up to the plate.

You wouldn’t let yourself admit it out loud, but you almost felt relieved with his absence in your small apartment. That was until you remembered the loss of his half of the rent.

Everything happened so fast, it was hard to process any of it. It all felt like it was swirling around and around too quickly for you to pick any one thing out. Your solution? Alchohol.

You grabbed your keys and hopped into your polished, clean, mint green beetle, setting off for the local dive bar. You could only recall one other time you had been to the small bar, having been dragged there by colleagues in the name of “bonding” after a particularly long day at work.

Drinking wasn’t something you did often, reserving a glass of wine for holidays and special events. Tonight, you decided you needed to make an exception.

As you parked and stepped out of your car, you felt nerves twist in your gut. The place was undoubtedly busy, which wasn’t shocking for a Friday night. People were smoking and talking out front, and you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you must’ve looked.

A knee length grey skirt fell loosely over your hips, paired with a rose colored, ruffled blouse, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings to top it off. Not a single tattoo in sight, and certainly no cigarette in hand. Your heels clicked against the pavement, smoothing down your skirt as you made your way inside.

The second you enter, you’re hit with a haze of smoke and the overwhelming smell of alchohol, nicotine, and sweat. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before you head for the bar.

You shuffle your way over to an empty stool at the front and take a seat, plopping your beaded purse on the counter. As you wait for the bartender to make their way to you, you take a better look at your surroundings. The place felt oddly cozy for being in such a frumpy looking building, and a band was playing some sort of aggressive rock song you had never heard before. Despite it being a little too loud, and a little too cluttered, you were already starting to relax a little.

“Hey there, what can I get for ya?”

You whip your head around at the voice, and your stomach instantly falls into your shoes. It would be impossible not to recognize the dark mop of curls that you got so used to seeing bouncing about the halls you shared all those years ago.

Although now it was pulled back into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, loose curls falling around his face. You’d hate to admit it, but he looked really nice.

“Well if it isn’t the little princess.” he laughs, and you feel your fists clench at the old nickname. “Didn’t think this was really your scene.”

“Well that would be a correct assumption, Munson.” you bite, bouncing back from the initial shock, “Unfortunately, it was the closest bar to my apartment, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive across town.”

Your grumbling makes you feel like a petulant child with a grudge, but you can’t help it. Eddie just always has getting on your nerves.

“I didn’t know you worked here, or I would have made the sacrifice.”

Eddie smiles his big, toothy, infuriatingly smug smile, and shakes his head, “You haven’t changed one bit, huh princess?”

“Don’t call me that.” you demand through gritted teeth, holding on to every ounce of restraint you have not to scream at him to just get you a drink.

He leans forward on the counter with a lopsided, goofy sort of expression, invading your space and ignoring your little outburst. “So what brings you in here tonight, princess? Boy troubles?” he mocks with a pouty tone.

You glare daggers into his skull, and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Just a beer will do.”

He gives a small salute before leaving to get you your drink of choice.

The rest of the night is spent drinking, wallowing, and actively avoiding any and all interactions with the familiar bartender. The minimal interaction you did have involved him pushing every button in sight, and you fighting to maintain an ounce of self control.

Any time your eyes made their way over to him, of their own volition, his eyes were already on you. He had this look, like he knew something you didn’t, and it infuriated you. Oh how you hated him.

It had always been this way, ever since high school. He made it his mission to push you to your limit, and you always had to one up him somehow. It became almost like a game. You weren’t surprised to see he hadn’t changed after all this time. It was almost comforting in way, if you thought about it long enough.

As the night went on, the activity slowly started dying down, and the atmosphere got quieter. You were on your second beer of the night, trying to let the cold liquid take the edge off. Even still, you felt your fingers tap against the counter with anxiety.

How could he leave you to fend for yourself at the drop of a hat? After nine months? Did your relationship hold that little of value? How were you supposed to afford next quarter’s rent? There’s no way you could afford to live in your current apartment. You would have to move. How would you find somewhere decent to stay in such a short amount of time? You were screwed.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re gettin’ ready to close up.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up to see the one person you wanted to see the least right now. His expression was soft. Softer than you’ve ever seen it aimed in your direction. It made you want to dig your nails into his skin.

“You alright?”

The question takes you aback, your brows furrow at the uncharacteristic behavior. “Fine, thanks.” you mumble, taking another gulp of your drink.

He looks at you with what can only be described as sympathy, and you feel your chest tighten. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You mull over the words for a moment. The answer should be so simple. You don’t smoke. In fact, you’ve never smoked once in your life. Why would you ever agree to smoke with him of all people?

But then his hand is outstretched across the bar for you to take a cigarette, and his eyes look so… kind? You’ve never thought of that word to describe him before. Maybe it was the alchohol, or maybe he put some sort of curse on you, because suddenly you’re taking the cigarette and following him out front.

You can’t help but watch as his thumb flicks at the lighter, putting it up to your lips before bringing it to his own. You follow his lead inhaling the smoke, and then you’re instantly coughing and spluttering it back out of your lungs.

He laughs lightly as he cooly blows the smoke to the side to avoid getting it in your face. “I take it you’ve never smoked before? If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up, Munson.” you spit out, face heating up with embarrassment as you make another attempt, ignoring the burning in your throat.

It’s silent for a while, before anyone decides to break it.

“So,” he starts, “You a big time writer now?” he asks, staring at the pavement.

He remembered you wanted to be a writer? You didn’t even think he knew that about you. “English teacher, actually. Hawkins High.”

He looks at you then, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “You stuck around that hell hole? No wonder you’ve still got that stick up your ass.”

You scoff bitterly, “Well I guess some of us are more academically inclined than others.” you glare, “I actually enjoy my job, shocking as that may be to you.”

“I'm sure you do, sweetheart.” Eddie replies smugly, causing you to grit your teeth as he leans against the brick wall of the building. "Gettin' to boss people around all day must be a dream come true for you." The parking lot is almost completely empty at this point.

Of course his civility was just a calm before the storm. You mentally pinch yourself for your momentary lapse of judgement. “God, you are such a-“

“Comedian? Kind soul? Sight for sore eyes?” he offers dramatically, eyes twinkling at your grimace.

“I was going for obnoxious, conceited, prick.” You hiss, stomping out your cigarette, “and I do not have a stick up my ass!” you shout, turning on your heel to leave.

Eddie rushes to catch up to you, laughing boyishly in a way that makes you speed up. “Aw come on, princess, don’t be like that. I was just teasing.”

“I said not to call me that-” You whip around to face him, and suddenly you’re practically chest to chest, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You’re so close you wonder if he can feel your heart racing behind your ribs.

Then he’s looking at you with that look. The one that makes your insides bubble over with fury. The one that makes you feel like he knows some sort of deep secret about you. It makes you want to slap him in his smug face. Yet, for some reason, you can’t seem to look away from his gaze.

Finally, you pull yourself away, and march over to your car. Just as you open your door, you hear a retreating shout of, “Next drink’s on me, princess!” and then you’re out of there faster than you can process your heaving chest and shaky hands.

After that, you somehow end up back in that same bar every Friday. Some sort of force, unbeknownst to you, seemed to draw you in like a magnet. As promised, the next drink was on him… and the next, and the next, no matter how many times you tried to refuse.

No matter how much you tried to talk yourself out of it, you always ended up sitting on the same stool, at the same time, with the same drink in your hand. Every week, without fail, you would leave the bar a fuming, heated mess with only one thing on your mind. Eddie fucking Munson.

This week in particular was different. You were absolutely swamped with assignments that needed to be graded, and you spent all of Thursday night and Friday working on getting them done.

It wasn’t until you woke up the next morning that you noticed the hiccup in your routine, and for some reason it made you sad. It wasn’t like you were obligated to go every weekend, but a part of you had grown to enjoy your Friday nights at the bar. Then some sick, twisted part of you wondered if he had noticed your absence, but you shoved the thought away as soon as it surfaced.

As the day went on, you convinced yourself it wouldn’t hurt to just go tonight instead. After all it was a Saturday night, and you had already cleared your workload for the week, so it’s not like there was any real harm in it.

Alternatively, it was a Saturday night. Eddie’s band performed Saturday nights. You didn’t want him to think you were there to see him, because you most certainly were not. You just didn’t want to miss out on your weekly drink, that’s all. Nothing more.

Still, it was a Saturday night. It would do you some good to look a little nicer, right?

You start to regret it the second you park your car. The shift in the air is blatantly obvious as you enter walk towards the crowded space. Men out front whistle at you as you walk to the door, and you can feel eyes practically digging into your skin as u head for your usual seat at the bar. Your leg bounces with nerves at the attention. You've never worn this dress before. Never had a reason to. You don't allow yourself to wonder why you chose to wear it tonight.

You ask the bartender for a long island iced tea, and catch yourself checking the small stage in the back of the room. You internally scold yourself and glue your eyes to your drink.

It isn’t long before cheers are heard around the bar, pulling your attention up to see Corroded Coffin walking out on stage.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” Eddie’s voice booms out of the speakers, causing people to whoop and holler in reply. You feel your leg begin to bounce.

He continues talking to the small crowd while his band finishes setting up, and you can’t stop yourself from ogling at him. You desperately want to pull your eyes away, to look at anything else, but you can’t.

He’s wearing an old band t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his arms, chest, and a sliver of his waist. Your eyes trail across the exposed skin, noticing he has quite a few new tattoos littering it, and your stomach twists. He has leather and chain bracelets decorating his wrists, curls falling wildly around his face, and you notice light bouncing off of his signature rings still adorning his fingers. You definitely don’t remember him looking like this in high school.

As he moves around the stage it’s abundantly clear how confident he is up there. His stage presence is truly impressive, and his voice is really something. It's gotten deeper since the last time you heard it. You subconsciously wet your lips as you watch his fingers move around the neck of his guitar. He’s come a long way since the last time you saw him perform. You can’t help but smile as you watch him in his element.

Then the smile is wiped clean off of your face when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the bar. You freeze, feeling like you suddenly have shards of glass lodged in your throat. Has he known you’ve been sitting here the whole time? If he saw you smiling you might have to run into oncoming traffic.

Then you notice what he’s singing.

“I'm on the prowl and I watch you closely I lie waiting for you I'm the wolf with the sheepskins clothing I lick my chops and you're tastin' good”

Your stomach flips and you can feel your whole body heating up. Something tells you he notices too, which makes it a million times worse. What the hell is wrong with you?

“I do whatever I want to do ya I'll nail your ass to the sheets A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya I fuck like a beast”

You shift in your seat, the eye contact becoming far too overwhelming. You opt to look down at your lap for the remainder of the song to prevent yourself from doing something embarrassing.

Soon enough the set is over, and the band starts breaking down their set up. You’re so deep in your own thoughts by the end of it that you fail to notice the man approaching you, until his arms are caging you against the bar.

“Well hello there, pretty lady.” You gasp at the familiar voice speaking directly into your ear, feeling his shirt graze your back. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He beams down at you, watching you huff and roll your eyes as you turn to face him. Your fingers wriggle with the efforts not to hit him.

“It was an impulsive decision.” You mutter quietly, eyes briefly darting to his toned arm beside you before snapping back to his face, “I didn’t come yesterday.” You concede, unsure of what else to say.

He smiles, seemingly amused. “I know. Your seat was empty all night.” he says lowly, face so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and then he’s pushing off of the counter to head back behind the bar and help clean up.

So he did notice. Did he miss you? Was he saving your seat, or is it just a coincidence?

You feel dizzy with a million questions. Why did you let him get so close? Why were you going to let him kiss you? Why does he look so good. Why do you care so much? You should have said something, anything.

You finish your drink in silence, watching Eddie as he flits around tidying up the place, and then the bar is closing. You feel your gut twist at the thought of going home, and you don’t quite understand why, but you blame the alchohol.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie jogs up to you as you grab your purse, arm outstretched and offering a cigarette. His hair falls prettily around his shoulders, and you only now notice that he takes much better care of his curls now than he did in high school.

“Care for a smoke?”

His charm must be cranked up to 100 tonight, because, once again, you agree with less hesitation than you would have liked.

You stand out front, Eddie waving goodnight to Garret as he heads to his car, and you watch as the last car whirs out of the lot. Then you are alone. Just you and Eddie. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“How’d you like the show?” he asks, exhaling a puff of smoke in the process.

You handle the burn better this time, holding back a cough from erupting as you take a drag. “It was… good.” You say hesitantly.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Just good? Wow, then we really need to get our shit together if we're gonna-“

“You were amazing.” You blurt out, unsure of why you felt the need to boost his ego. You clear your throat before amending your statement, “It… The show was amazing.”

Eddie hums in satisfaction, smile tugging at the corners of his lips around his cig. “You know, you didn’t have to dress all fancy for lil ol’ me.”

You wore a tight, low-backed, black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, sheer black stockings, black boots, and some dainty silver jewelry. Nothing too crazy, but definitely much different from how you would normally dress. Admittedly, you felt a little self conscious.

“Well good thing I didn’t dress fancy for you.” You huff, starting to feel a little silly for trying so hard to fit in. God, did he always have to be so cocky?

“I mean, I’m not complaining.” He starts, pushing off the wall to step towards you. “You look fucking incredible. Of course, you always look incredible.”

Smug bastard.

“Thank you.” You feel yourself flushing at the words, immediately getting sick to your stomach at how much you care what Eddie Munson thinks about how you look. “Glad I got your seal of approval.” You quip sarcastically, desperately trying to pick a fight. Anything to stop you from feeling whatever it is that you’re feeling right now.

Why did he always find a way to get under your skin? No one else makes you feel as utterly frustrated as he does.

He’s absolutely unbearable.

You force down another inhale of smoke as you watch Eddie slowly make his way closer to you. The way he’s looking at you makes your mouth go dry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it’s driving you up the wall.

“You know, you don’t always have to be such a brat.” He exhales casually, pausing in front of you. Your heart stops. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me every once in a while.”

“It might.” You rasp out curtly, just now realizing how out of breath you suddenly feel.

He laughs, and the sound makes your insides flip.

“You have such a big fat crush on me, don’t you sweetheart?” He smiles down at you wolfishly, and it almost makes you shrink under his stare. You suddenly are acutely aware of your surroundings.

You scoff and cross your arms defensively, “I most certainly do not have a crush on you, Munson.” You spit out venomously. How dare he even suggest such a thing? It couldn’t be farther from the truth. You loathe him.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, taking a stride closer to you, making you step backwards.

“Think I don’t notice how you stare at me? How you sit up a little straighter when you see me?”

Your back hits the wall.

“You aren’t subtle, princess.”

You feel like a fucking deer in headlights.

“Staring and glaring are two very different things.” You pant, desperately searching for oxygen. Anger burns in your throat at his absolute audacity, and your skin feels like it's buzzing.

“Is that so?”

You can feel his chest press into you as the brick digs into your shoulders. He takes a long inhale of smoke, and your head is screaming at you to push him off of you and curse him the whole way home, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion as he grabs your chin, and then, unexpectedly, he‘s pulling your jaw down to part your lips. All you can do is stare at him and his cocky fucking smile at your compliance. You feel like you’re in a trance.

Before you can even think, his lips are pressed against yours and pushing smoke past your lips. You gasp at the contact, effectively inhaling the smoke and sighing against his lips. Your brain short circuits and goes completely numb. His lips feel like the cure to a disease you've been plagued with for years.

For a moment, you almost forget who you’re with, until he pulls back to look at you.

“Well if you hate me so much, then why are you squeezing your thighs together?”

You immediately rip your legs apart, not even realizing what you were doing until it was too late. You can feel steam pouring out of your ears at this point.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

He’s right. For some reason, you do love it. Something about him makes you crave more, and you’re starting to believe he may be an incubus. It’s making you go insane.

So you finally wave the white flag.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Munson.”

So he does. Again, and again, and again, until somehow you end up back at Eddie’s trailer with your wrists handcuffed to his bed frame and your clothes thrown around his room.

Hard rock music plays faintly in the distance, and the room smells vaguely of incense and weed. You feel like you've been transported to an alternate dimension.

His lips feel like they’re everywhere. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and then he’s leaving sweet little kisses on your tits, making you whine and arch your back towards him.

“Gotta teach you how to let loose, yeah?”

He gently tugs on one of your nipples and you gasp, and Eddie can’t help but laugh as he kisses his way further down your body.

“You’re fucking adorable when you’re not being a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You groan as he spreads your legs open, kissing and biting at your thighs. “Shut up, Eddie.”

“Oh I’m Eddie now?”

Your hips buck up in frustration, glaring down at him with a scowl. It feels like he’s been teasing you for forever. “Eddie” you whine out, “Stop teasing.”

He slowly starts kissing closer to where you need him most, but not quite close enough. “You don’t think you deserve it? Why do you think your wrists are locked up then, sweetheart?”

You wiggle and writhe beneath him, but don’t answer. Eddie moves his face closer to your cunt, and you finally think you’re going to get what you want, and then he blows on your clit. You whimper and clench around nothing, flinching away from him. It's absolutely pathetic, getting so worked up when he’s barely even done anything yet.

“I asked you a question.” Eddie tries again, rubbing soothing circles into the back of your thigh while he waits for a response.

“My wrist’s are locked up because…” You take a deep sigh and force yourself to just spit it out so that he’ll touch you already. “because I was being a brat." you grumble. He’s lucky your wrists are locked up right now, you think.

Eddie kisses your thigh in approval, “That’s right, and bratty girls don’t get to call the shots. Right?”

You huff and pull against your restraints once more, before ultimately complying. “Right.”

You figure it won’t do you any good to act out, especially given your current position.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Eddie grins up at you, before finally leaving a gentle kiss right on your clit.

You throw your head back into the pillows, immediately feeling relief at the small touch. He then runs his tongue up your slit, swirling it nice and slow around your little button, making you sigh and melt into the bed. His curls tickle your thighs where he works diligently.

It quickly becomes apparent that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that makes you wonder how many other women have been in this exact same position. The thought makes you dig your nails into your palms, but the it’s is quickly forgotten when you feel him slide a finger into you.

"See?" He starts, words muffled by your folds, "Just needed someone to put you in your place, huh? To take the reigns?"

You flutter around him, and every fiber of your being wants to say something snippy in response, but all you get out is a blissed out sigh. He hums happily.

His fingers are much thicker than your own, calloused from his years of playing guitar. Looking down you notice he took all his rings off and set them next to you on the bed. He never takes his rings off, ever, you remember that. For some reason the simple act makes your heart leap out of your chest.

He pulls his face back from your slick for a moment just to watch the way you suck in his finger, and he moans at the sight of you. The sound makes your brain feel like static. “Fuck, baby, you needed it bad, huh? You’re fucking dripping all over my sheets and I've barley started.”

All you can do is nod your head and hum in response, and your jaw drops open with a soft moan as he slides in a second finger with ease.

“How long have you been wanting me like this, sweetheart? Be honest.” He asks, never faltering in his pace.

You whine at the question, embarrassment flooding your features as you turn your face to hide it in his pillow. He quickly kisses up your body, gently turning your head back to look at him. “You can tell me. No need to be embarrassed.”

You take one good look at his face, and you know that he already knows. He’s giving you that look. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Mm… Since-” you hesitate to finish your sentence, and then a particularly hard thrust of his fingers does it for you. “Since fucking high school! Christ, Eddie-”

A groan erupts from the back of his throat as he kisses you hard, licking and biting at your bottom lip, and then suddenly his mouth is back on your clit and you feel like you’re floating. He picks up the pace, eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

You feel your hips start to move against him, and he groans into your pussy making you cry out. “Yeah, that’s it.” He mumbles against your core, “Ride my face, honey.”

You can’t control the plethora of sounds that escape you, and your body seems to have a mind of its own. You writhe on the bed as Eddie devours you, holding your thighs over his shoulders. He searches for your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers, and he knows he’s found it when your eyebrows pinch up, a high pitched whine reverberating throughout his bedroom.

You can feel him smile against your cunt, continuing his assault against that spot that makes you see stars. He never stops looking up at you to watch your face contort with pleasure. His already dark eyes are now fully eclipsed with lust and need.

“Oh my god-” you gasp out, heaving for air as your legs begin to shake around his head.

He can tell you’re close from the way you’re squeezing his fingers and writhing under him. He doesn’t speed up or change his pace, he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing, moving the flat of his tongue back and forth against your clit and curling his fingers up into you just right.

“Eddie, mm… i’m so close-”

The second the words leave your lips, he pulls off of you. His mouth and fingers are completely gone in an instant, and you feel like you’re about to cry.

“What the fuck?!” You shout at him, voice weak with tears threatening to spill, “Why did you stop?”

Eddie grins from ear to ear, lips and chin glistening with your slick, “We talked about this, remember?” he says cockily, leaning down to lick a bead of sweat from your chest, “Brats don’t get to call the shots. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you sweetheart?”

You grumble and kick your legs out in frustration, but he kisses you to make it better. You slowly let him melt you back into putty in his hands, tasting yourself on his tongue. He presses his knee directly against your puffy cunt, groaning at your wetness against his skin as you sigh into his lips. You go to move your hips against him but he quickly stops you, moving his hand up instead to push down his boxers, his dick already hard and aching to feel you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel so good, just gotta be good for me first alright?”

You nod your head frantically, completely and utterly at his mercy. He looks like sex personified, and you just want to feel him. “Please, Eddie-”

He smiles sweetly at you, kissing your cheek as he slides the tip of his cock through your folds. “Awh, look at you and your manners.” he taunts, but this time you can't seem to care. In fact, you realize, you kind of like it.

You like hearing his voice.

You like it when he’s mean.

He pushes just the tip against your dripping hole, and you’re practically sobbing. “How can I say no when you asked so politely?” and then he’s sliding all the way into you, and you’re already a wreck.

“Holy shit- you feel so fucking good” he groans and huffs as he starts to slowly pump in and out of you, making sure you feel every drag of his cock inside you.

You’re already panting, stretching your hands against the cool metal to try and grasp for anything that can ground you, but you come up empty. He’s so much bigger than you expected him to be, and the stretch is practically making you drool.

“Eddie, fucking- god”

“That’s it, keep screaming my name just like that baby.” He encourages, kissing and biting at your collar bone, sure to leave marks, “You sound so goddamn pretty when you say my name.”

Eddie adjusts your position, pulling your leg over his hip and pushing it against your chest. The new angle has your back arching off the bed, a whimpering mess as you claw at the handcuffs.

Eddie leans his head to rest in the crook of your neck, panting and whining into your ear. “Shit, princess-”

Your cunt squeezes him at the nickname, and the moan that slips past your lips is guttural. “Oh, fuck-” He clamps his eye shut with a deep groan, gripping your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave little bruises.

That’s the first time he’s used that nickname since you started, and he knows it. He did it on purpose.

He lifts his head to look at your blissed out face, a goofy, lopsided, fucked out grin on his lips. “I knew it.” he gloats, thrusts getting harder, “Look at me.”

You muster up the energy to flutter your eyes open and look at him. The pretty smile on his face makes your legs shake.

“You like it when I call you that,” he beamed, “That’s why you hated when I used that name for you in public, huh. Cause’ it made you fuckin’ soak your panties?” he laughed meanly, watching tears fill your waterline. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, voice lowering into something sweeter. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you practically scream. He looked so pretty, and he felt so good, and you wanted him closer. It was all too much, you needed to hold something, anything. You needed to pull yourself back down to reality.

“Eds- Eddie, please can I touch you?” your fingers twitch where they’re held above your head, “Wanna feel you- please, i’ve been so good-”

Eddie whines at your sweet pleas, but maintains composure. He wanted to stick to the plan.

“Oh, honey, no” he pouts out at you mockingly, watching the way you strain for anything to grasp and his dick twitches inside you, “No, you gotta give me one first. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Too fucked out to formulate a simple response, you simply sob and nod your head. Your hips start to rock up into his thrusts, but Eddie grabs your hips with one hand and pushes them back down into the sheets. You feel like a live wire.

Then he brings his thumb down to your clit, gently rubbing circles on it, and your eyes clamp shut. He kisses your open mouth and you try your best to kiss him back, but he’s moaning into your mouth, and he’s touching you, and fucking you, and Eddie Munson is fucking you, and it’s all so good that you just can’t.

“Eddie, i’m gonna-” you babble, almost incoherent, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter, “Please please please don’t stop!”

He puts more pressure on your clit and leaves sweet little kisses on your neck, “I’m not got stop, it’s okay.”

You’re so close you feel like you’re about to explode.

“You can cum for me, princess”

That’s all you needed to see stars, black clouding your vision as he rides out your high, not once stopping or slowing down his pace. You can vaguely hear him talking you down, but nothing registers past your ears ringing.

Then your wrists are released and he’s flipping you over so that you’re on top, straddling him, and your hands and lips are all over him in an instant. In this position he hits your g-spot perfectly, and you can’t help but sob against his chest at the overstimulation.

“Just one more for me, I promise.” he soothes, gently rubbing your hip as his guides your hips back and forth on his cock, making you both cry out. You start to set your own pace riding him, leaning back against his legs to give you the perfect angle.

“You’re so perfect.” He mutters, breathlessly, “My pretty girl- fuck.”

Eddie was now moaning and whining louder and more freely than before, you can tell he’s getting close now too, and you’re already reaching your second climax of the night.

“Wanted you for so long,” Eddie admits, gripping your hip tighter, “can’t believe this is real.”

You whine at the confession, leaning forward to press your lips to the shell of his ear. You make sure to let your pretty noises and praises flow freely, just for him. Your fingers gently brush hairs from his forehead before scratching your way down his chest.

“You fuck me so well, Eds”

“Oh my god- you feel so good”

“Please, Eddie, I wanna feel you cum”

He’s an absolute mess, wrapping both hands around your hips and bending his knees up so that he can fuck you down onto him. “Wanna cum with you sweetheart. Want you to give me another one.” He rambles against your chest, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little red marks behind.

“I’m so close, honey, c’mon. You can give it to me."

You bite and claw at his skin, so close to tipping over the edge.

"Soak me.”

You collapse forward as tears of overstimulation fall onto his inked skin, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder to ground himself while he paints your walls white. You ride out your highs, clutching each other like a lifeline. When you’re both back on planet earth, he cleans you up nice an gentle, and whispers pretty little praises into your skin as you fall asleep with your limbs intertwined.

“Knew you had a crush on me, princess.”

Let’s just say you no longer have to go apartment hunting!

asks are open!

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b14augrana · 4 months

Text

Portrait

When Alexia decides to give into her curiosity and sit down at one of the street artist stalls stationed on a busy Parisian road, she leaves with something more special than a self portrait.

Alexia Putellas x reader

masterlist

Warnings: straight fluff and bad translations but dont worry its only short x

A/N: ALE RENEWED WE CAN ALL REJOICE!! 🙏

The strong Parisian sun beat down on the heads of locals and tourists alike as they walked down the crowded streets. You were perched on a stool, staring intently at your canvas as you gently painted the smile lines of a lovely old lady that stopped by your stall.

You loved your job for this very reason. You knew how hard it was to love yourself from your own perspective; you hoped to do every individual person’s beauty justice with your paintings.

Of course that wasn’t enough income on its own so every morning you found yourself in one of the local bakeries either working behind the scenes or at the front counter. Baking and painting were jobs you loved and found so similar because they both resonated with your desire to indulge in art wherever you could find it, and to you they were the simplest forms of art.

“And… I’m done. Here’s your finished portrait, madame,” you said with a smile, lifting the canvas off the easel and gently setting it into the woman’s arms.

“Je ne peux pas te remercier assez, ma chérie ! C'est beau, merci,” she replied, admiring it with tear-brimmed eyes hidden behind her glasses. You said your goodbyes and watched her walk off with a grin on her face, and then you picked up a fresh canvas and placed it on your easel.

You didn’t have time to shake your head at the many smudges of paint on your clothes as another person approached you.

“Hola!” a woman’s voice spoke, making you look up curiously. Standing before you was a blonde woman smiling slightly, gesturing to the stool behind the easel. “May I sit?”

“Of course,” you nodded, returning her smile and swirling your paintbrush in some fresh water as you prepared to paint her. “You’d like a painting, no?”

“Yes please. Also, forgive me for saying hola — I forget that I’m not in Spain,” she laughed, inciting a giggle from you.

“It’s okay. I do the same when I’m outside of France,” you added, dipping the paintbrush into some fresh paint before grazing the canvas. “So, you’re Spanish.. what’s your name?”

“Alexia. I’m here for a holiday, because I’ve finally got some time off work,” she explained with a huff. You smiled behind your easel, painting the woman’s chiseled bone structure with intricacy as you added to her face.

You liked her already. You had barely said anything to her, but something about her was genuine.

“Are you with anybody?” you asked, curious to know more about her. She nodded her head, “Only two other people, my friends Lucy and Ona. They’ve gone on a wine tasting date, which is why I’m here.”

You laughed softly as you rinsed your paintbrush. “And you? Do you have anyone to go wine tasting with?”

“Next question,” Alexia responded, smiling through laughter. You began to paint her eyes and faintly outline her nose.

The rest of the time you spent painting every detail of her face flew by as you two talked and got to know more about each other. You learned that she was a professional footballer and lived in Barcelona, which you thought was very cool. She asked about your life and you told her that you were a born and raised Parisian who spent the rest of her days at home or in the bakery. You weren’t really concerned about yourself though; you were busy looking at her, and not for the purpose of the painting.

When you had completed the last strand of hair and placed the last freckle on her portrait, the sun had dried most of it already. As she stood up and picked her purse up, you flipped the canvas around and scrawled something on the back with a slight smile.

“There you go. Thank you, Alexia,” you said, handing her the painting. She gasped quietly as she admired it, and she looked at you for a moment before pulling you into a hug. “Thank you, chica!”

Even after she pulled away, her perfume clung to your skin like glue. It smelled sweet but not overwhelming… like coconut and caramel with an undertone of musk and vanilla hints. It smelled exactly how you imagined it to smell.

As you said goodbye, you didn’t reach for a fresh canvas. Alexia turned away, holding the newly painted canvas in her hands with her head down, her eyes fixed on it. She stood stagnant for a moment, scoping out every detail, and then she turned it over.

“Llámame, hermosa :)” was written on the back, followed with your phone number and a quick sketch of a flower bouquet. She immediately turned her head to glance at you over her shoulder, but you were occupied with someone else.

When she turned back around, a smitten smile was plastered across her face and she couldn’t help but feel giddy to get back to her hotel.

After another second, you looked up from your canvas, your eyes completely skipping the person sat in front of you and wandering over to the direction that she had walked in, watching the blonde woman disappear down the street.

“Est-ce que tu vas peindre ou quoi?” an irritated voice snapped from behind your easel.

“Désolé!”

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pedrospatch · 11 months

Text

a safe haven l nine

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: When you find out that you’re pregnant, everything comes crumbling down around you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE THAT HEAVILY IMPLIES DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. this chapter it also contains a very uncomfortable scene with reader and Luke, but despite the sexual nature of the scene, READER DOES NOT GET SA, BUT SHE DOES GET INJURED. INJURY there is a description of an injury as the result of DV HEAVILY IMPLYING STRANGULATION. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. pregnancy, mentions of high risk pregnancy (not reader), mentions of child loss (not reader), mentions of pregnancy related symptoms (missed menstrual cycle, morning sickness), protective Tommy Miller, protective Joel, and last but certainly not least, feral Joel. this chapter is a lot, just proceed with caution if anything in bold can be a potential trigger for you.

word count: 11.8k

October, 2024

It’s the middle of October.

By now, the pain had become almost unbearable. Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound.

If anything, time only seemed to be making it worse.

So, so much fucking worse.

It drags, and you almost feel as if you’re paralyzed by it. But the only thing that you can do about it, about any of this, is just pretend.

Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Pretend you don’t feel empty.

Pretend you don’t need him.

But you do need him. Oh, how you fucking need him.

The hole in your heart is growing bigger by the day, and only Joel Miller is capable of filling the void. Only he has the ability to make you feel whole again. Complete.

“Be honest with me—what does this look like?”

You pause your knitting and glance over at Maria.

With her due date approaching, you had offered to help her prepare for the baby’s arrival. At about six months, Maria was expected to give birth towards the middle of winter season, and instead of trading or having to use rations for certain baby items, like blankets, little socks and mittens, you’d decided to show her how to make them instead. Not only was it saving her from having to trade or use her rations on things that could easily be knitted, but it served as a decent, albeit temporary, distraction, giving your mind the chance to focus on something else other than how deeply you were hurting without Joel.

Tilting your head slightly, you eye the soft, butter yellow wool she’s holding in her hands. “Um, is that the start of another baby blanket?”

“No.” Maria’s face falls. “It’s supposed to be a hat.”

“Oh. Um.” You lean forward in the brown leather armchair you’re perched on, squinting hard at it as she holds it up. “Okay, yeah, I can kind of see the shape of it now. I can totally see it being a little hat for the baby.” She tosses you a knowing smile and you squirm slightly, heat prickling at your ears.

“I appreciate you lying to me.” She giggles and sets down her knitting needles beside her on the couch along with the ball of wool yarn. Leaning back, she places both hands on her belly and sighs. “At the very least this child will never go without a blanket seeing as blankets are all I’m capable of making.”

You flash her a small, but reassuring smile.

“You’ll get the hang of it, Maria, I promise. It just takes some practice, that’s all.”

“Well, now that Luke has put me on strict bed rest until I have the baby, I’m going to have all the time in the world to practice,” Maria remarks, exhaling another sigh. Craning her neck, she peers at your own knitting project, which you’ve been working on in something of a secretive manner in your lap and out of the expectant mother’s view. “What are you making over there, anyway?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’m so glad you asked since I’m just about done.”

Crossing the last stitch, you set aside your knitting needles and then hold up the finished product. “What do you think of these?”

Maria’s hand flies to her mouth, tears welling up in her dark eyes the moment she sees the pair of little brown baby booties in your hands. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, a tear rolling down the side of her face as you stand up and walk across her living room to present her with the shoes. Sitting down beside her, you hold them out in the palms of your hands. With trembling fingers, she accepts them. “Kevin had a pair just like these when he was a newborn. I kept them even after he’d outgrown them.” She lets out a small laugh in spite of herself. “You know, I’d always complain that he was growing up too fast. I used to wish that I could slow time down a little so I could enjoy my son being that young longer,” she admits, sniffing. She reaches up, dabbing at her damp eyes with one of her hands. “And now Kevin is frozen in time, forever a three year old little boy.”

She sets the booties down on her belly and inhales deeply, willing herself to keep her composure.

Swallowing back your own emotions, you brush a single, stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d opened up about losing her child—but Maria often kept her emotions hidden, tucked away along with her son’s memory. For the last several years, she’d dedicated most of her time and energy to Jackson and to its people, pouring herself completely into her role as the community’s leader. But now that Luke had placed her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, Maria had no choice but to step down, temporarily handing the role over to Tommy, along with a small council she’d handpicked herself.

It hadn’t been easy for her, after all, there was only so much she could do to keep herself preoccupied while being confined to the four walls of her home. She found her mind wandering to Kevin a lot more often than not lately, and the pregnancy hormones did absolutely nothing to help in the matter.

“Maria?” you say her name softly. “You okay?”

She slowly exhales the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally replies, sniffing again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She pauses momentarily. “I just—there’s a part of me that still has trouble believing I’m going to be a mother again. It’s been so long, you know? What if I’ve forgotten how to be a good mom?”

Dropping your hand from Maria’s face, you offer it out for her to hold. She accepts it and you give her hand a gentle squeeze as you vouch, “This baby, they couldn’t be any luckier than to have a mother like you, Maria.”

“And a fuckin’ hell of a dad like me,” a voice teases from the doorway.

Tommy, who had been down at the commune’s market picking up some potatoes for dinner, saunters into the living room with a brown paper bag in his arm. Setting the bag down onto a nearby table, he then makes his way over to his wife. Noticing that she’d been crying, he leans over and presses his lips against her forehead, softly murmuring, “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she assures him with a nod. “I’m just extra sensitive and hormonal right now. The usual.”

He hums. “Uh, yeah, I kinda figured that out when you bawled your way through Old Yeller at the movies the other night.”

She pouts. “Pregnant or not, that movie’s a tear jerker, okay? Only people made of stone don’t cry when the dog dies.”

“She’s got a point, Tommy,” you agree with a shrug. “I cried too, and I’m not pregnant.”

Drawing himself back up to his full height, Tommy glances at the booties resting on Maria’s belly. He picks them up and holds them both in the palm of his hand.

“Well, ain’t these just the teeniest things I ever did see,” he remarks with a soft chuckle. “Who made these?”

Maria jerks her chin towards you. “She did.”

Tommy’s eyes meet yours and it feels like a punch to the fucking gut—they remind you of his brother. “Almost feels like a crime, havin’ you make clothes for our kid for free,” he states, shaking his head as he hands them back to Maria. “You’re makin’ the baby’s entire wardrobe at this point, little lady.”

Sheepishly, you wave a dismissive hand at him. “I made one sweater and a couple pairs of mittens for them. I wouldn’t exactly call that a wardrobe, Tommy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more stuff than we had before. I gotta be honest, it just don’t feel right acceptin’ all these things from you without payin’ somehow. I’d really like to at least trade you somethin’ for them.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline the offer.

“I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anything.”

“What ‘bout Luke?”

“He doesn’t either.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t waste your breath,” Maria chimes in with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to get her to accept a trade all week long and she simply won’t budge.”

Tommy purses his lips together, slowly rubbing his chin in thought. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he proposes after a minute. “How ‘bout you and Luke both come on over and join us for dinner later tonight? That ain’t too bad of a deal, right?”

You silently mull over the offer for a second.

“If I accept the invitation, then will you two knock it off with all this damn trade nonsense?” When he eagerly nods, you sigh. “Alright then, I accept. We’ll come over for dinner tonight. Granted he doesn’t come home late from the clinic again.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Knowing he only means well, you decide to be a good sport about it and smile at him. “No, Tommy. I suppose it wasn’t.”

“Great!” Maria beams. “We haven’t had a chance to get together for dinner in months. Lately when I see Luke, it’s as his patient,” she muses. “I have to admit, it’ll be so nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around my uterus for once.”

Tommy jokingly makes a face. “Yeah. Tell the doc to leave all that medical stuff at the door before he comes over. Last thing I wanna hear ‘bout while I’m chowin’ down on some big, juicy bison steaks is what fuckin’ size my wife’s uterus is—”

“Tommy! That’s not funny!” Rolling her eyes at her husband, Maria turns to you to apologize but she stops short when she notices a sudden, not to mention drastic, change in your complexion. Frowning, she reaches up and touches your cheek. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

You can taste the bile at the back of your throat.

“I—I’m sorry, what did you just say was for dinner?”

Tommy shoots you a strange look. “Uh, steaks?”

The mere mention of the word sends a violent wave of sickness crashing over you—slapping your hand tightly over your mouth, you scramble to jump off the couch and make a beeline for their downstairs bathroom right across the hallway. You’d made it just in time to fall to your knees in front of the toilet. Clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl, you gag loudly, and the sickening sound of your retching bounces off the walls.

As your stomach heaves, you feel one hand gather your hair to hold it back and out of your face, while the other rubs soothing circles into your back.

“Let it all out,” Maria encourages you. “It’s alright, just let it all out. There you go, get everything out.”

Tommy pokes his head into the bathroom.

“She okay?”

“Tommy! Get out of here!” Maria scolds him over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need an audience!”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright! Sheesh, I was just makin’ sure she’s okay, you ain’t gotta bite my head off!” He huffs at her. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.” Without another word, he spins around on the heel of his boot and disappears.

Once you’re certain there’s nothing left, your trembling hand reaches for the handle on the tank and pulls it down, flushing the toilet. You then sit back, slumping against the wall. “Jesus. I am so fucking sorry. I have no idea what the hell came over me,” you groan, the embarrassment evident in your tone as you wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your flannel shirt.

Maria peers at you with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“You know,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “About five months ago, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stand the thought of meat—any kind, but red meat had to be the worst. I just could not stomach it.” Her hand falls away from your face and she rises to her feet with a labored grunt. Leaning back against the sink, she continues to say, “Poor Tommy, he couldn’t even mention it to me or I’d throw up on his boots. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.”

You stare at her, your lips parting slightly. “Maria, you can’t seriously be insinuating—I am not pregnant. No, it’s not possible, you know that I can’t have kids,” you sputter out, furiously shaking your head. “There’s just no fucking way that I’m—”

Maria holds up her hands to stop you. “When was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

“It was recent.”

“How recent?”

Silently, you start counting the weeks and you freeze the moment you realize you’d missed September completely, and October’s cycle had been due two weeks ago. You’ve been so lost in your own grief, so busy trying to keep yourself from falling apart, that you hadn’t even realized you haven’t bled since—

“August,” you breathe out in a terrified whisper.

The last time you had your period was in August.

August.

Before you had slept with Joel Miller for the first time.

Maria whirls around and starts digging in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and then in the one below it. After a minute of rummaging, she turns back around and extends a hand out to you, offering to help you to your feet. She lets out another grunt as she helps you stand. “I had one left,” she states, holding out her other hand to you, an individually wrapped pregnancy test in her palm. “At this point, I don’t think you even need to take a test, but it doesn’t hurt to have solid proof.”

You can hardly choke out her name. “Maria—”

She hastily shoves the test into your hands. “Just take it. I’ll be back in to check on you, okay?”

Not giving you the chance to protest, she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You look down at the test in your palm and then up into the mirror, meeting your own wide eyes in the reflection.

It can’t be possible. It just can’t be possible.

You can’t have children.

With shaking hands, you unzip your blue jeans and then tear open the package. Your mind is in such a haze, you have to read the instructions three or four times before the information finally sticks. After taking the test, you lay it down top of the counter with the results window facing down. You pull your panties and jeans back into place and wash your hands using the bar of soap next to the sink—all the while, the sheer panic has started to settle in, the fear that accompanies it seeping deep into your bones.

Swallowing harshly, you realize it’d been well over the three minutes the package had instructed you to wait for the results.

“It’s negative. It’s negative,” you affirm quietly over and over underneath your breath as you pick it up and flip it in your hand. “It’s negative. It’s negative—”

You stop, and for a second, your heart feels like it stops too.

Horrified, you blink furiously, as if somehow you’ve misread the results—but there is no fucking mistaking those two solid little pink lines.

Your blood runs cold in your veins.

You’re pregnant.

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you’re pregnant.

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you are fucking pregnant.

Maria knocks lightly on the bathroom door.

“It’s been a few minutes now—can I come in?”

She waits, only to be met with complete silence.

“Hey, hon.” She knocks again. “Is everything okay?”

Again, there’s no response from the other side of the door.

“Christ, Maria.” Tommy suddenly appears beside her with a glass of water in his hand. Flashing his wife a teasing look, he quips, “Can’t you let the poor girl do her goddamn business in peace? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Maria frowns. “I think something’s wrong.”

His playful grin falters. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not answering me.”

Tommy chortles, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe ‘cause she’s actually in there doin’ her business?”

Hesitantly, Maria bites down on her bottom lip.

“What? What is it?”

“I gave her a pregnancy test to take.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Maria glares at him. “No! I’m not fucking with you, I’m being serious! I gave her the test and then told her I would check back in with her after she took it, but now she’s not answering me and I’m kind of worried.”

“The door locked?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it is. Should we just open the door and see if she’s okay? I don’t want to barge in there but—”

Tommy hands Maria the glass of water. “Hey,” he calls lightly as he raps on the door with his fist. “Everythin’ alright in there?” He waits for a minute, but when you don’t reply, he grasps the brass doorknob in his hand and says sternly, “Now you listen here, little lady. You had best answer me right now, or we’re gonna have to come in, you understand me?”

Silence.

“Last chance, talk or I’m gonna open this door.”

Nothing.

“Alright then, suit yourself. Hope you’re decent.”

Tommy turns the knob, cracking the door open—when he doesn’t see you, he tries pushing it open further. The door stops halfway, and he peers around it only to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, preventing the door from going any further. “Shit, she’s sittin’ right behind the goddamn—fuckin’ hold on, Maria! If I try shovin’ it open, I could hurt her!” Being careful so as not to hit you or step on you by accident, he squeezes his way into the bathroom. He crouches down beside you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hey, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

You can’t speak. You can’t move.

All that you can do is stare at him. Petrified.

“C’mon, little lady,” he coaxes, softly. “Talk to me.”

“Tommy! Let me in!” Maria demands, impatiently. “Can you move her? I can’t squeeze through, my belly is way too big.”

Tommy slides one arm around your shoulders and the other arm under your knees. “I’m just gonna move you out the way so Maria can come in, alright? C’mere.” He gingerly slides you across the tile and cradles the side of your body against his chest. He then calls out to his wife, “There, that should be enough room!”

Maria pushes the door open and rushes inside. “Is she okay?” Gripping Tommy’s shoulder, she slowly lowers herself to kneel beside you. Her eyes go straight to the test clutched in your hand. She just about has to pry your ice cold fingers off the white stick one by one. “It’s positive,” she gasps. “Your results are positive—you’re going to have a baby!”

Tommy lets out a loud, gleeful laugh. “Did’ya hear that, little lady? You’re gonna have a baby! You’re gonna be a mama! Ain’t that great news?”

Finally, you snap out of your trance. Your eyes anxiously bounce between Tommy and Maria, heart pounding as they eagerly wait for your reaction with smiles of pure excitement on their faces.

“I—” Unable to utter another word, you burst into tears.

And they’re certainly not tears of happiness.

No, the sobs coming from deep within you aren’t full of joy at the news that you’re going to be a mother.

They’re pained. Cries full of sorrow, anguish, and fear. As the confusion flashes across their faces, all you can do is weep harder, and louder.

“Wait a minute, I thought you would be happy.” Maria’s hands reach for yours and she holds them tightly as she tries to understand what it is that is causing such a negative reaction. “You and Luke tried for a really long time to have another baby. Why are you so upset?” She keeps her voice calm, kind. Warm. It wasn’t that she was judging you—Maria wants to help you, however there’s no way for her to help you if she doesn’t know what’s causing your grief in the first place. “What’s the matter, honey? Are you afraid after what happened last time?”

“I can’t be pregnant,” you rasp out. “I can’t—”

“Hey now, it’s alright. C’mere.” Tommy shifts and he moves to sit down beside you against the wall. His arm drapes around your trembling shoulders in an effort to comfort you. As your entire body shudders with sobs, he pulls you close against his side, rubbing your arm with his hand. Once they’ve subsided and little hiccups are all that are left, he finally speaks again. “You can talk to us, little lady. ‘Bout anythin’ that’s on your mind. We care ‘bout you a whole lot. Y’know that, don’t you?”

“Tommy’s right,” Maria nods. “You’re like family to us. You can come to us about anything. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, okay?”

You shake your head tightly. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She lets out a small sigh and glances at her husband with a look of defeat. “I think you should run down to the clinic and get Luke. He’ll know what to do to calm her down.”

“No!” you shout loudly, startling them both. “I—Luke can’t find out that I’m pregnant. He just can’t know, or else—” A fresh batch of tears spring forward as you clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling another wail.

“Or else what?” Maria asks, raising an eyebrow.

Or else he was going to fucking kill you.

Tommy grabs your wrist, gently tugging it away from your face. “Or else what?” He echoes his wife. “What is goin’ on? Is there somethin’ we should know ‘bout?”

Yet another sob escapes you and his fingers curl tighter around your wrist, firmly, but he’s careful not to be too harsh.

“We’re gonna need you to tell us what’s goin’ on.”

There’s no way around it. Around any of it.

You have to tell them.

Swallowing harshly, you admit, “There is.”

The couple waits expectantly.

“The baby isn’t Luke’s.” You mumble it so quietly and incoherently that neither of them hear it despite being in such close proximity.

Maria furrows an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“The baby isn’t Luke’s!” You cry out, yanking your wrist out of Tommy’s hand. “This baby isn’t his and that’s why he can’t fucking know!”

And just like that, the truth comes tumbling out.

Luke’s violence towards you.

Your romantic affair with Joel.

Ellie discovering the abuse and telling him about it.

Your stubborn refusal to let either of them do anything to help you.

You spare no details of everything that had taken place over the last several months, and by the time you had finally finished, both Tommy and Maria were rendered completely speechless.

“Can one of you say something? Please? Anything at all?” Your voice is small, feeble.

After a minute, Tommy pulls his arm from around your shoulders and stands up. He helps Maria up to her feet before he extends his hand to you. “Alright, first thing’s first. Let me get you up off this floor, little lady.”

His voice is soft, and so is his gaze.

“Tommy how can you—after everything that I’ve done? Your brother—”

“Please. Just let me help you off the floor and then we can talk ‘bout it. Okay?”

You accept his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t let it go as he leads you out of the bathroom and back into the living room where he sits you down on the couch. Maria, who hasn’t said a single word, takes a seat beside you.

Tommy kneels down in front of you, placing a warm and gentle hand on your leg. He almost looks a little bit guilty, as if he should have known what was being done to you behind closed doors. “Look, m’gonna ask you a question and I need an honest answer. How long has he been doin’ this to you?”

Anxiously, you start wringing your hands in your lap.

“Tommy, I can’t. Please, don’t—”

“Tell me,” he encourages you, softly. “When did it first start?”

Your throat bobs. “Two months after my dad died,” you confess, another tear rolling down the side of your face.

Maria stiffens. “Luke has been putting his hands on you for two years?”

“Yes.”

You can hear the shame in your own voice—shame for letting the abuse go on as long as it has, for everything to come to light like this.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tommy sighs heavily and hangs his head. “Joel told me. He fuckin’ told me.”

You wipe at your swollen eyes with your forearm.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?”

He sighs again.

“Months ago, the day after the big summer party,” he begins to explain. “We were at the bar. Joel was askin’ me ‘bout you and Luke. Said somethin’ just wasn’t right when he saw you two together for the first time. He tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong and I—I didn’t fuckin’ believe him. Told him he was seein’ what he wanted to see ‘cause I knew he liked you. I fuckin’ told him that you and Luke were happy. He tried to tell me and I didn’t fuckin’ listen to him.”

“Tommy, please don’t blame yourself for this,” you beg him. “I’m the one who chose to hide it. This is my own fault, okay? This is all on me, not on you.”

Maria furiously shakes her head. “It’s not your fault and it sure as hell isn’t on you. You’re the victim here.”

Victim.

The word makes you cringe.

“But it is my fault, Maria. I hid it from you guys for two fucking years.”

“But why? Why did you hide it? Why didn’t you come to us?” Tommy’s voice is strained. “You should’ve told us what he was doin’ to you. We—I could’a done somethin’ to stop it. I could’a helped you.”

“Because. I didn’t want to risk getting him thrown out of the community. Jackson needs him, Tommy.”

“Like hell we do,” Tommy rises to his feet. “Ain’t no way that we’re gonna tolerate that fuckin’ shit here.” With his hands curled tightly into fists, he spins around and starts heading towards the front door.

You stand and chase after him, catching him just as he opens it. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To confront that pathetic son of a bitch—”

“Tommy, please! Don’t do that.” Grabbing his arm, you shoot him a pleading look. “Please, think about this for a minute.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for me to fuckin’ think ‘bout, alright?”

“Yes, there fucking is! This town needs a doctor. They need Luke—Maria needs Luke.” You glance over at her just as she appears in the hallway with both hands on her belly. “God forbid that something goes wrong—she goes into preterm labor or she has a complication when she gives birth. Did you think about that?”

“We’ve got two nurses,” he reminds you.

“Two nurses who only know basic neonatal care. That’s it. If something serious happens, Maria’s going to need Luke. And the baby’s going to need him too.”

You knew you’d gotten your point across when Tommy turns to his wife, helplessly.

“Fuck,” he curses, slamming the door shut. “She’s right. I fuckin’ hate to say it, but she’s right ‘bout that.”

“I am right,” you state and his attention flits back to you. “Luke has to stay and you both know that as well as I do. For the good of Jackson, he has to stay.”

Conflicted, Tommy growls out in frustration. “So what, I’m just s’pposed to give him a fuckin’ pass? How the hell can you expect us—how can you expect me to let that motherfucker walk around this place knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to you over these last two years?”

Your fingers dig into his arm, a fresh batch of hot tears stinging your eyes. “Tommy, if this community suffers without Luke because of me, it will destroy me. The guilt will fucking destroy me.”

Finally, Maria decides to step in. “Listen, I know that you’re trying to look out for the people of this town and I get that. But you’re risking your own life by asking us to let him stay here.” She walks over to you, taking your hands in hers. “Honey, I know men like Luke because I used to prosecute men like Luke. I would take them to court on murder charges.” Her eyes find yours. “I don’t want to scare you, but if that is the only way for me to get through to you, then I will sit you down and I will tell you all about what happened to the women who swore to me their abusive husbands would never, ever take it that far.”

You swallow harshly and a chill runs up your spine.

“I’ll leave,” you squeak. “I’ll leave him.”

“And what if he doesn’t let you walk away?”

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “He will if I’m the one who fuckin’ talks to him. I ain’t gonna give him the choice. He has to let her go.”

Panicked, you furiously shake your head. “No! I can do this on my own, Tommy. I can handle him alone. I don’t need you to do it for me. I can fix this without your help, okay?”

“You can’t,” he says, firmly. “You just can’t.”

“Yes, I can—”

He cuts you off with a pleading look.

“You need to let us help you. Please. Let us help you.”

You had agreed to it, but only on one condition.

“I need a couple of days,” you’d told them.

Tommy frowned. “No. It’s happenin’ tonight. We’re gonna talk to Luke, you’re gonna pack up a couple bags, and we’re gettin’ you away from him. You can stay here with us for a while. You’ll be safe.” Taking notice of the shocked look on your face, he said, “I know you ain’t crazy enough to think I’m gonna let you go home to him tonight. Ain’t no way in hell.”

“I—this is all happening so fast. It’s too overwhelming, Tommy. I just need a day or two to process everything before I take that leap.”

“And give Luke the fuckin’ chance to hurt you again?”

“He hasn’t laid a finger on me in weeks now.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, someone give him a fuckin’ medal!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He hasn’t hit his wife in weeks! What a fuckin’ guy!”

You recoiled, his sarcasm stinging like he’d poured salt straight into the open wound.

“Tommy,” Maria glared at him. “Not helping.”

He immediately shot you an apologetic look.

“Shit. Sorry, little lady. I’m just real worried ‘bout you. I don’t like the idea of you goin’ home to him tonight, and much less knowin’ that you’re pregnant, y’know?” His eyes had fallen to your stomach with sudden curiosity. “When, uh—when do you plan on tellin’ Joel ‘bout the baby, anyway?”

Heat flooded your face and neck.

“I—I’m not really sure about that yet.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! She just told you that she’s feeling overwhelmed,” Maria chastised him. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Our first priority is going to be to get her out of that house. She has already agreed to letting us help her, so I think there’s a bit of room for compromise. Here’s the deal.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to let you go home to him tonight either, I’m going to allow it so you can take a breather. Tomorrow in the afternoon when you get home from work duty, I’ll come over and help you pack some clothes and necessities, and we can bring them over here to our place.”

Nervously chewing your lower lip, you asked, “And then what?”

“I’ll go confront Luke,” Tommy stated. “Best if you ain’t there when I talk to him, little lady.” He turned to Maria, placing a hand on her belly. “I don’t want you to be there either, sweetheart. I ain’t takin’ any chances and puttin’ you and the baby under stress so I’m gonna have to handle him alone, alright?”

Maria nodded, shifting her attention back to you. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Meekly, you had nodded in agreement. “Yes. We have a deal.”

The rest of that evening passes by in a blur.

Autopilot had taken over the moment that Tommy took you across the road and dropped you off at your door.

“Any problems, you come get me,” he’d said. “You come and get me. No matter what time it is, alright? You fuckin’ come and get me if he tries anythin’.”

All that you could do was give him a weak nod and then you’d turned around, slipping into the house.

You don’t remember cooking dinner.

You don’t remember looking at the clock, noticing it was well past dinnertime and realizing that Luke would be home late as usual. You don’t remember fixing him a plate and leaving it on top of the stove for him to find when he came home, storing all of the leftovers, and washing the small pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

You don’t remember heading upstairs afterwards, you don't remember taking a long shower, brushing your teeth or changing into your pajamas.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in, that autopilot finally disengaged.

“You’re still up?”

You’d been sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously picking at your fingernails without even realizing it until he glared at you—he’d always hated the habit and spent months smacking it out of you.

Ceasing from messing with your hands, you drop them into your lap.

“You’re home really late again,” you say, quietly.

“I made a last minute house call. John’s little boy came down with a hell of a fever tonight.” Luke sets down his satchel bag and shrugs out of his jacket—as he does so, you catch sight of the tiny, reddish purple bruise on his neck, right below his ear. Draping his jacket over a nearby chair, he arches his brow as if he were silently challenging you to confront him, as if he’s daring you to ask him who had given him a love bite.

You don’t care. You don’t care about what or who Luke has been doing over the last several nights when he’s been coming home so much later than usual.

Kicking off his black boots, he saunters over to you, his mouth stretching into a cruel, satisfied little smirk.

Oh, he knows damn well you’ve already figured it out.

He wanted you to figure it out.

“Spend the afternoon at Tommy and Maria’s again?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I see.” He hums. “She was telling me during her exam this morning at the clinic that you’ve been helping her knit some clothes for the baby. Is that so?”

“I have,” you murmur, looking down to avert his curious gaze as he stops in front of you. “We’ve been making blankets for the baby, too.”

Luke cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to meet his. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you.” He roughly curls his fingers around your jaw, his thumb brushing along your quivering lower lip. He hums again. “Something about you seems different, darling. Been looking a lot prettier to me these days.” He lets go of your jaw and brushes your hair behind your shoulder, his finger skimming the strap of your cotton pajama top. “How long has it been now, sweetheart?”

Your throat goes dry, your lips parting in shock as Luke pulls it down your arm, his palm grazing over your skin.

No. This can’t be happening. He wants to—?

Without waiting for a response, Luke grabs one of your hands and places it over his belt buckle.

Noticing your expression, he laughs again. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“You—you haven’t wanted to touch me in months.”

Luke shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I’m suddenly in the mood for my pretty little wife’s cunt.” His grin stretches from ear to ear. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky this time. Maybe we’ll have a little one of our own running around this place. I’m feeling rather optimistic tonight.”

You’re going to be fucking sick all over him.

No, you can’t let him do this to you.

You can’t let him touch you.

He pushes your hand lower, right over his bulge.

“No!” Tearing your hand away, you jump up and roughly shove him away from you. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He stumbles backwards, but he catches himself before he can fall.

Your chest heaves a d he stares at you, bewildered at what you had just done. “I’m so sorry that whoever you fucked before you came home wasn’t enough for you, but you are not fucking touching me,” you spit at him. “In fact, you’re never touching me ever again because I’m leaving. I’m done, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.” Your voice trembles—you can’t be sure if it trembles out of anger or out of the sheer terror you feel. Maybe it’s a bit of both. “It’s over, Luke. This marriage is fucking over. I’m not putting up with what you’ve been doing to me for the past two years. I’m not going to tolerate it. Not anymore. I’m not going to allow you to keep on hurting me.” Lifting your hand, you slide your wedding band off of your finger and toss it at him. It clinks as it lands on the hardwood floor near his feet. “I’ll be out of the house by tomorrow evening.”

“Let me take a guess.” He speaks calmly, much too calmly, as he starts towards you. The time bomb has started ticking. “You’re going to move in with Joel Miller and his feral little rat of a kid?”

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you seethe, “Where I move is none of your fucking business, Luke.” He steps closer and your courage starts to falter. You can feel yourself wanting to back down—the thought of your unborn child is the only thing that keeps you from completely losing your nerve. “Here is the deal. You’re going to let me leave and you’re going to stay the fuck away from me. If you do that, then I won’t tell anyone anything about the things you’ve done to me. It’ll be like none of it ever happened. We both move on with our lives. Separately. Got it?”

He draws closer and closer. Much too close.

“Oh, you silly, silly girl,” he tsks. “Do you really think you can call the shots? Do you really fucking think you have the upper hand here? That you can make the decision to end this marriage, just like that?”

Closer, until his chest brushes against yours.

“Luke, I’m giving you a fucking chance here,” you say, backing away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. With nowhere else to go, to run, you fall backwards onto the bed, scrambling up towards the headboard. Your heart is pounding, too hard and too fast—would it give out before he even has the chance to get his hands on you? “Luke, please, just let me go.” Clasping your hands together in a plea, you beg him, your back pressed against the headboard, “If at any point in our relationship you loved me—if at any point in our marriage you actually cared about me, you will fucking let me go in peace. Please. Just let me go. Let me fucking go.”

Luke stands at the foot of the bed, his face blank.

Emotionless. There isn’t a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. No mercy.

“Please,” you whisper once more. Curling both of your arms around yourself, you subconsciously protect your belly.

Luke reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

You watch, your stomach churning, as he slowly slides the black leather from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke.”

Joel clutches his stallion’s reins tightly in his hands as the pair fall into a slow, easy trot behind Tommy and his horse, Ranger.

He follows his brother as he leads the way through the quiet, tranquil plains of Wyoming. Instead of scanning their surroundings for signs of potential danger, all Joel can do is think about you—that was all he could ever do these days, was fucking think about you and about that fucking night.

The memory plays over and over in his mind on a loop, torturing him day in and day out. It never fucking stops. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

That’s precisely what he had done. He had stayed away from Luke. And against his better judgement, he had stayed away from you, too.

“How’s it feel to be back out here?” Tommy asks over his shoulder. He tugs at the reins and gives Ranger the cue to slow his trot, giving Joel and his horse, Bandit, the chance to catch up and ride at their side. “Bet you couldn’t be fuckin’ happier to be off house arrest, huh?” he adds, a light joking edge to his tone.

After about four and a half weeks, Joel had made a full recovery, and he was cleared to return to patrol duties. Wanting to ease him back into the swing of things after so much time off, Tommy decided to pair up with Joel as his partner for that morning’s watch. The two took a route just a few miles west of the community, one that was scoured every couple of days since it was so close to Jackson’s main gate.

“S’alright,” he mutters with a shrug that causes him to wince. His shoulder’s still a little sore. Ellie had assisted with his physical therapy, badgering him every single night to do the exercises in some book she’d found in the town’s library with Dina’s help. He had full range of motion again, and that’s all Tommy had needed in order to allow him to return to patrol.

“You feelin’ alright?” His brother notices the slight look of discomfort on his face. “Shoulder’s good?”

“Any particular reason you’re bein’ so annoyin’ today?”

Tommy feigns offense. “You got fuckin’ shot, Joel. Just makin’ sure you’re okay. Jesus.”

Joel lets out a small huff through his nose. “M’fine,” he assures him. “Shoulder’s good. Still hurts a little and the cold weather ain’t doin’ a whole lot to help, but ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” Sitting back in his saddle, he lets his thighs close around Bandit. “Whoa,” he utters to the animal, his fingers squeezing the reins as he signals for Bandit to come to a halt.

“What’s the matter? Why are we stoppin’?”

“This route’s clear, Tommy. We should turn around and go find the rest of the group. Check and see if the other routes are clear too.” Joel clicks his tongue, prompting Bandit to move again. He steers the stallion and starts turning around to lead them back east, but then stops once more. He glimpses over at Tommy, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Noticing the odd, pensive expression on his face, Joel frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy chews the inside of his cheek, his apprehension written all over his face. “Uh Joel, there’s something we need to talk ‘bout and maybe it’s best if we do it while we’re out here, just the two of us.”

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows pull together. “What is it?”

His brother hesitates. His lips purse together, a sudden look of regret flashing across his features.

“Tommy?” Joel prompts. “The hell’s goin’ on?”

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he states, “You were right.”

“Right ‘bout what?”

“‘Bout Luke.”

Joel freezes in the seat of his saddle.

“You were fuckin’ right ‘bout him mistreatin’ her.”

His grip around the reins tightens, skin stretching thin over his knuckles so tight they’d gone white.

“She was over at mine yesterday afternoon. Ended up tellin’ me and Maria everthin’ ‘bout Luke and what he’s done.” Rolling his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy pauses for a second before repeating, “You were right. You were fuckin’ right ‘bout that bastard from the start and I’m real sorry that I didn’t fuckin’ believe you, Joel.”

Joel’s mind begins to race.

What had prompted you to finally tell Tommy and Maria about the abuse? Did something happen to you that he didn’t know about?

Ellie had been pretty good about keeping him posted. He would ask her about you the very minute she’d walk through the front door after her shift at the stables and she would provide him a full report.

“She’s fine. She ain’t hurt,” Tommy reassures him, as if he’d read his mind. “We’re plannin’ on movin’ her outta the house later on tonight.”

“What?” Finally, Joel speaks, his voice rigid.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “Now, hold on. I need you to give me a minute and let me explain—”

“She told you Luke’s been abusin’ her and you just let her go back to him? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Why didn’t you and Maria fuckin’ stop her?”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ stop her the night you saw the bruise on her?” He shoots back at him.

Joel stares at him, his lips parting slightly.

How did he fucking know about that?

“She told us the truth ‘bout the affair too, Joel.”

“She did?”

“She did,” Tommy confirms with a nod. “I had a hunch, y’know. The day of the ambush, I thought I saw panic in her eyes when I told Ellie you’d been shot. Then I saw it again when she saw you there sittin’ on that table with a bullet in your shoulder, but I brushed it off. Thought she was just real worried ‘bout the kid seein’ as those two are thick as fuckin’ thieves, y’know?” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, he can’t help but let out a chuckle when he thinks of you and Ellie. “But now I know she was scared of losin’ you. That girl loves you, Joel. I know you love her too. I’m willin’ to bet it’s the reason you let her walk away that night. Why you kept her secret.”

“Jesus.” Joel exhales a shaky breath. “Y’must think I’m a real fuckin’ coward for knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to her and not doin’ a goddamn thing ‘bout it, huh?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“It’s a complicated situation, brother. She only did what she did for the good of the community. She’s still trying to do what’s best for Jackson, believe it or not. She, uh, she wants us to let Luke stay.”

“She wants you to let him stay?”

“Girl’s got too big of a heart. Doesn’t want the town to be without a doctor.”

“Ain’t no goddamn way you’d let him stay! After all the fuckin’ shit he’s done to her?” When his brother doesn’t respond, Joel narrows his eyes at him. “Jesus Christ. You can’t fuckin’ tell me you’re actually considerin’ it? Are you fuckin’ serious, Tommy? You and Maria would let that son of a bitch stay in Jackson? Knowin’ he’s spent two fuckin’ years puttin’ his hands on his wife?”

“Look here, alright? I don’t like the idea as much as you don’t, and neither does Maria,” he says. “But this ain’t exactly black and white, Joel. I really fuckin’ wish it was. But the hard truth is that Jackson does need a doctor, and unless one magically falls out of the fuckin’ sky, we ain’t got much of a choice here. My wife and child, they might need him, y’know? Maria’s considered a high risk ‘cause of her age. If somethin’ happens and there’s complications when she’s in labor, she and the baby are gonna need him. Our nurses, they ain’t really trained to handle things like that, y’know?”

Joel’s lips press together into a tight, thin line.

Of course it’s black and white to him—because he loves you. You’re his fucking priority. There’s no gray area for him. None.

But Tommy? His priority is Maria and their unborn child.

Joel can’t fault him for that, and he certainly isn’t going to try. But what about you?

“Listen, Joel. I know this is real fuckin’ hard, believe me I do. I care about that girl a lot, a whole fuckin’ lot. I saw her as family long before I knew ‘bout your relationship with her and before I knew she was—”

He stops abruptly, red splotching his cheeks.

Joel still doesn’t know he is going to be a father. Again.

“Before you knew she was what, Tommy?”

“Tommy!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Joel! Over here!”

The two brothers glance over their shoulders and see the rest of their morning patrol group heading towards them.

Tommy bites back a sigh of utter relief. That had been too fucking close.

He turns to Joel, lowering his voice. “Joel, I need you to listen, and listen to me real good. We’ve gotta take this one step at a time. First thing’s first, me and Maria are gonna get her outta that house. She can stay with us at our place for a while. She’ll be safe with us. That much I can promise you.”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know yet. We get her out first and then we figure things out from there. In the meantime, I’m gonna need you to stay calm, Joel. Please. Don’t go off and do somethin’ stupid, alright?”

That had been a lot easier said than done.

Joel needed to talk to you.

He needed to fucking see you.

But his brother had been adamant.

“Don’t fuckin’ get involved, Joel. Not ‘til we get her out. I don’t want things to fuckin’ explode in our faces, alright? Let me handle this.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leans back into the couch and looks down at the guitar in his lap—he’d just spent the last hour carefully polishing it in an effort to keep himself occupied. He thought back to that night you’d come over to gift it to him, how he had kissed you for the first time mere hours before you showed up on his doorstep with your father’s Gibson.

As he gives the guitar a gentle test strum, he recalls the request you made for him to sing you a song and a dull ache settles in his chest, right over his heart. He’ll sing you every song you want to hear, if given the chance.

Part of him is optimistic that he would get the chance.

You were meant to be his. He was meant to be yours.

He just fucking knows it.

Joel’s train of thought is shattered by the sound of the front door opening, and then loudly slamming shut.

“Ellie?” He calls out.

Her voice comes from the hallway. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, kiddo.”

Ellie grumbles incoherently as she walks into the living room, hair disheveled, clothes filthy, and her sneakers caked with muck from the stables.

Joel frowns at her. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Today was just really fucking shitty and while that was a great pun, for once, it was not fucking intended,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you called me in here to ask me about her, I’d save my breath. She stayed home today. She’s sick.”

Joel’s stomach instantly drops. “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. With like a really bad cold or something.”

Putting down the guitar, he questions, “And who told you that?”

“Dina,” Ellie replies, looking puzzled. “She said Luke told her—” She stops abruptly as he jumps to his feet and immediately shoves past her, heading towards the front door. She spins around on her heel, following him. As he flies down the porch and starts down the road towards your house, she is forced to jog along beside him just to keep up with his stride. “What, what? What is it? Fucking answer me, Joel, what is it?”

“She ain’t fuckin’ sick, Ellie.”

“What do you mean she’s not—oh fuck. You don’t think she’s hiding out at home because—?” Ellie’s heartbeat stutters when the realization sinks in. “Luke.”

When the pair arrive at your place, they find a very, very distraught Maria Miller standing on the front porch, her hands wrapped around the doorknob. “Hon, I need you to let me in!” She turns and pulls the knob, desperately. “Please! Open the door for me!”

Your tearful voice comes from the other side. “Go away, Maria!”

The sound of Joel’s boots prompt Maria to turn around. “Joel,” she breathes out his name in relief. “I can’t get her to open the door. Tommy went to see if we have a spare key for the unit. He hasn’t come back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Break a fucking window, maybe?” Ellie snaps at her.

Joel silences her with a glare and then takes Maria by her arms, moving her to stand behind him. “Open the goddamn door!” he commands firmly, pounding his fist harshly against the wood. He can almost feel the way you freeze on the other side the moment you hear the sound of his voice. “Open this fuckin’ door right now!”

Ellie chimes in, “Come on, please open the door!”

“Go away!”

Joel continues to beat his fists against the door. “Show me what he fuckin’ did to you!” He shouts as he drops his hands to the doorknob, clawing at it as if somehow that’s going to do the trick and open the door. “C’mon! Show me what that fuckin’ bastard did to you!”

“Please, go away, all of you! Just leave me alone!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Maria calls. “You’re going to have to open this door and let us—”

Losing what very little patience he has to begin with in the first place, Joel cuts her off. “I will fuckin’ break this door down if I have to,” he threatens. “I’ll cause a scene and let everyone in this whole fuckin’ town know what Luke does to you. Is that what you want?”

He hears the lock click almost instantly.

Finally, you crack the door open and peek out to show them your face. “There, you fucking see?” Your face is blotchy, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m fucking fine! Now fucking go away!”

You try shutting the door, but Joel is too quick and slips the toe of his boot in, wedging it between the door and the doorframe.

“Move, Joel!”

“Nope,” he says, keeping it planted firmly in place.

Not wanting to break his foot, you let up and he shoves his way inside with Ellie and Maria trailing behind him.

Taking a clumsy step backwards, you gather up the front of your knitted cardigan in your trembling hands, bunching it around your neck to conceal it. “Get out! Please, just get out!” you beg them through your sobs. “Please leave! I’m fine! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine—”

Heart hammering painfully against his sternum, Joel walks over and he takes your wrists. “Let me see. Baby, please. Just let me see.” His voice is raw, thick, as if he were on the verge of tears himself. He just knows he’s failed you, failed to keep all those promises he had made about never letting anything bad happen to you. He’s fucking failed. Again. He tries to find your gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. “Let me see,” he chokes out again, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the iciness of your own. “I’ll force you if I have to, so please just show me. Please, just fuckin’ show me what he did to you.”

Letting out another agonized sob, you drop your hands and let go of the material, letting it fall back into place at your sides and exposing your injury.

Maria gasps into her hands. “God.”

“Fuck.” Ellie’s eyes widen in complete horror.

Joel drops your wrists, taking a step backwards as his eyes glaze over the severe discoloration around your neck.

He feels fucking sick to his stomach, but it isn’t until he notices the clear imprint of a square belt buckle on the column of your throat that Joel thinks he might actually be sick all over the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Luke’s voice suddenly echoes through the foyer. He stands near the front door, looking thoroughly confused—that is, until he sees you standing there, exposing what he had done to you the night before with his belt. The very same belt he’s wearing now.

No one has the chance to speak.

No one has the chance to think.

No one even has the chance to breathe.

Joel charges at Luke. He roughly snatches the collar of his jacket and pulls him further into the foyer of the house, away from the open front door so that he has nowhere to run.

You rush towards them. “Joel, stop! No!”

Maria quickly hurries to stop you, grabbing you by the back of your sweater. She yanks you back and out of harm’s way. “Don’t!”

Horrified, you watch as Joel slams Luke straight into the mirror hanging on the wall—head first. He pulls him forward, then slams him back even harder, the impact completely shattering the glass. Hundreds of shards go flying across the hardwood floor.

“Oh shit! Watch out!” Ellie jumps back as a sharp piece of broken glass lands between her sneakers.

“Joel, stop it! Please, stop!” you cry out as Maria grasps your arm to keep you from jumping in the middle of the altercation. “Stop it!”

But Joel is too far gone. Ignoring your desperate cries, he wraps one hand around Luke’s neck, holding him in place. His other hand curls into a tight fist and he starts delivering bone shattering blow after bone shattering blow to his face. “You wanna fuckin’ hit someone?” He snarls as the man’s nose cracks beneath his knuckles. “You wanna fuckin’ put your hands on someone? Huh? Then you fuckin’ put ‘em on me! C’mon, I fuckin’ dare you to put ‘em on me!”

Throwing Luke onto the floor, Joel climbs on top of him and he secures both of his hands around his throat. He feels the uncontrollable urge to do to him what he had done to you—only, unlike Luke, he doesn’t need a belt, and unlike Luke, he isn’t going to stop.

He isn’t going to let him live.

Joel squeezes Luke’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.

“How do you fuckin’ like it,” he hisses, irises going from brown to black as he presses harder on his windpipe. “C’mon, tough guy, tell me how you fuckin’ like it.”

Luke feebly claws and scratches at his hands, gurgling as blood starts coming out of his nose and mouth.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy rushes into the house, his boots scraping against the floor as he skids to halt. Without hesitating, he jumps into action. “Joel, stop! Fuckin’ let him go! Let him go!” He reaches down to pull him off.

“Look at what he did to her! Fuckin’ look at her!”

Tommy turns his attention to you, and the color drains from his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, shocked by the mark around your neck. He has half a mind to step back and allow Joel to finish the job, but with you, Ellie, and Maria watching on in terror, Tommy doesn’t have a choice. He grabs fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt and tries to tug him off the man he’s about to kill. “Fuckin’ let him go, Joel! Right now! That’s an order!”

Luke’s attempts to fight him off grow weaker. His face is beaten beyond recognition, and there’s a pool of dark red growing under him, dripping from a deep laceration he’d sustained from the being slammed head first into the mirror. His hands fall from around Joel’s wrists. He’s close to losing complete consciousness.

“Joel, let him go!” Tommy bellows. “Now!”

“Tommy, be careful!” Maria warns him, worriedly.

Somehow, he finally manages to peel Joel off Luke. He shoves him up against the nearest wall, pinning him in place. Behind him, Luke coughs and sputters violently, gasping as he frantically tries to breathe some air back into his lungs.

“Fuckin’ let go of me!” Joel growls, his eyes wild as he drives his fists into Tommy’s chest. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him! Let me fuckin’ go!”

Tommy cups Joel’s face in his hands and tries to meet his gaze. “Hey, look at me, I need you to calm the fuck down—I said fuckin’ look at me, Joel!” He demands. “I need you to calm the fuck down. I know that he fuckin’ deserves it, alright? Trust me, it’s takin’ all the strength I’ve got in me not to fuckin’ let go, let you kill the son of a bitch. Hell, there’s a part of me that wants to help you fuckin’ do it! But it ain’t the way we handle things here. M’gonna need you to take a breath and calm down, big brother. If anythin’, just do it for her sake, alright?”

Joel’s chest heaves, his breaths rough and ragged as his eyes flicker over to you. His heart sinks at the sight of you sobbing uncontrollably in Ellie and Maria’s arms.

Groaning, Luke rolls over onto his stomach and spits a mouthful of blood into the floor. “You can fucking have her,” he rasps, looking up at Joel through swollen eyes. “Keep her. Keep the useless little whore.”

Blinded by white hot rage, Joel starts thrashing around in Tommy’s grasp and tries to break loose. “Fuckin’ call her that again you fuckin’ son of a bitch—”

“Shit.” Dropping her arms from around you, Ellie steps forward, standing protectively in front of both you and Maria.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy! M’gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Maria tucks your face into her shoulder. “Don’t watch.”

“Joel, fuckin’ stop it already!” Tommy struggles to keep him in place. “You’re scarin’ her half to death!”

“I don’t fuckin’ care—”

Tommy’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt. He slams Joel back against the wall so hard, the mirror, or at least what’s left of it, falls. The square frame breaks in half when it hits the floor.

“Well, you should fuckin’ care! She’s pregnant, Joel.”

You lift your head from Maria’s shoulder. “Tommy.”

Ellie spins around on her heel to face you. She stares at you with wide, round eyes. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

Joel looks over at you. Just as shocked, if not more.

“What?”

Tommy grabs his chin, forcing his older brother to look at him once more. “It’s true,” he murmurs quietly. “So please, just take a goddamn breath and calm the fuck down. For her sake—and for the sake of your child.” He releases Joel’s shirt and takes a careful step backwards towards Luke, who is still groaning in pain on the floor. Once he realizes Joel isn’t going to charge him again, Tommy turns around and grabs the injured man by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him up to his feet in a rough, careless manner. “Get the fuck up,” he says. He drags him towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Tommy? Where are you taking him?” Maria questions him.

“Town jail. M’gonna throw his sorry ass in a fuckin’ cell and leave him in there ‘til we figure out what to do with him.” He glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get the council together for an emergency meetin’ tonight.”

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters under her breath as soon as they disappear. “Did this really just fucking happen?”

Chest still heaving, Joel glances down at his bloodied, torn knuckles and then turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable.

Maria lightly clears her throat. “We should probably get out of here,” she suggests. “Let’s head on over to mine and Tommy’s while we wait for him to get back.”

“Are you cold?” Ellie asks, worriedly.

She holds up a blue fleece throw blanket she’d dug out from the hallway closet despite you warning her not to snoop around the house while Maria’s in the bathroom tending to Joel’s hand.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I’m fine.”

“But it’s cold in here.” She drapes the blanket over your hunched shoulders. “Can I get you something? Water? Are you hungry? You should probably eat something—”

“Ellie, please stop with all the fussing.” You pat the spot on the couch beside you. “Just sit here with me. That’s all I need right now.”

Nodding, she sits down and angles herself toward you, getting a closer look at the wound you’d been left with.

“Shit,” Ellie mutters under her breath. Grimacing, she lifts a hand and gingerly presses her fingertips to your neck in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. How bad does it hurt?” She touches a particularly sore spot on the column of your throat and you hiss in pain. She retracts her hand and sputters an apology, “Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Wincing, you assure her, “It’s fine. It’s just a little tender right now, that’s all.”

“A little?” she scoffs.

“Okay, maybe more than a little,” you admit.

Ellie observes you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“It’ll heal, Ellie. It looks worse than it really is.”

“No, I mean—” Pausing, Ellie moves her hand, placing it on your stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

You glance down at yourself, almost as if you expected to see something different about yourself, but then you remember you’re only about six weeks along and there is nothing to see, no significant changes to your body. Perhaps it’s the reason why there’s a part of you having a hard time grasping that Ellie’s asking if the baby was okay. If your baby is okay.

After a minute, you nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you reply softly, putting a hand over hers.

Relieved, Ellie flashes you a small smile. “Good.”

“How are you two doing in here?” Maria appears in the living room with Joel trailing behind her. His right hand is wrapped up in a white bandage.

“We’re okay.” Ellie glances at Joel. “You okay?”

He gives a quick, subtle nod of his head. “M’fine.”

“We can take her home now, right?” When Ellie doesn’t ge the immediate response she’s seeking, she shoots him a tiny little glare. “She’s coming home with us, isn’t she? I mean, she fucking has to come home with us.”

He still doesn’t answer her question.

All Joel can do is stare at you, jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

“Hey, Ellie, how about we go into the kitchen and make some tea?” Maria beckons to her with her hand.

She snorts. “Seriously? Who the hell wants fucking tea after that fucking shitshow—”

Maria pins her with an exasperated glare. “Ellie.”

“Oh shit, okay. I get it now,” Ellie quickly realizes it’s simply an excuse for the two of them to leave the room. Dropping her hand away from your stomach, she jumps up to her feet and wraps her arms around you. Her hug is brief, but full of warmth and reassurance, as if she’s silently telling you everything’s going to be alright. She releases you and follows Maria to the kitchen, leaving you and Joel alone.

Nervously, you stand up, your knees wobbling.

You feel torn—torn between wanting to run over to him and jump into his arms, and wanting to run away in the opposite direction to find somewhere to bury your head in shame. You’d promised him he had nothing to worry about, swore to him you couldn’t bear a child, and now here you were, carrying his and putting a responsibility on his shoulders he didn’t ask for. A responsibility that, surely, he doesn’t want.

On top of everything else he’d been through with you.

No, because of you. And now this?

Somehow, you muster up enough courage to speak.

“Joel,” you squeak his name. “Say something.”

“You sure you’re pregnant?” He asks, quietly. He stands across the room, making no move to come closer.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “I’m sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I only just found out yesterday,” you swear.

“And Tommy and Maria fuckin’ knew before me?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or if he’s disappointed—not that either was a better option than the other.

“I was here with them yesterday in the afternoon. I got sick out of nowhere. Maria’s the one who suspected it and suggested I take a pregnancy test when I realized I haven’t had my period since August. After the first time that you and I—well, you know.” Shifting from one foot to the other, you continue to explain, “It never even fucking crossed my mind, Joel. I didn’t notice anything. I didn’t notice the symptoms. Missing my period, the dizziness, and the nausea. I was so busy trying to keep myself from fucking falling apart without you that it all went right over my head.”

Joel’s harsh expression suddenly softens.

“I took the test. When the results turned out positive, I just lost it. I fucking lost it, and I told Tommy and Maria everything because I was scared.” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips out from the corner of your eye, rolling down the side of your face. Several more threaten to follow, but you blink them back. “They offered to help me, Joel. They wanted to get me out of the house last night, but I was too fucking stubborn. I didn’t listen to them. I thought I’d be fine for one more night, but when Luke came home, he wanted to be intimate with me.”

Joel sucks in a sharp breath. His anger boils in his veins all over again. “And did he—he touch you like that?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t let him. I couldn’t let him. I told him not to touch me and I pushed him away.”

“Then what happened?”

“I told him that it was over. That our marriage was over and I was leaving. That’s when he took off his belt and he—” Gesturing to your throat, you start sobbing again as images of the night before flood your mind.

Luke had done pretty horrific things to you before, but this?

This had been the worst of them. He almost killed you.

“Baby.” Joel rushes over to you and pulls you right into his arms. “Shh, darlin’. S’alright,” he soothes. “S’alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Whimpering, you met into his touch, the very touch you have been missing with every fiber of your being. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you croak into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulls away slightly, peering down at you. “Sorry? For what?” Without even giving you the chance to answer, he assures you, “There ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for, sweet girl. Alright?”

You let out a tearful scoff. “Joel, I’m pregnant. And it’s fucking yours,” you remind him, the guilt in your tone loud and clear. “Don’t you remember how worried you were about it? And how I told you that you had nothing to be concerned about?”

“Don’t put it all on yourself, peach.”

You almost smile.

Oh, how you’ve missed hearing him call you that.

“Look, this is on me too, baby. Part of me knew there was still a possibility, but I didn’t care. All I cared ‘bout was makin’ you mine every fuckin’ chance I got.” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face. He chuckles nervously and says, “Y’know, at one point, I kinda thought I was at the age where I’m shootin’ blanks more than anythin’ else. Guess we were both wrong, huh?”

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “And if you’re worried I’m upset ‘bout you bein’ pregnant, you’re wrong ‘bout that too, darlin’.”

Surprised, you blurt, “You mean, you want the baby?”

Now it's his turn to be taken aback.

“Y’thought I wouldn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” you confess, sheepishly. “I thought you would be mad about this, if I’m being honest, Joel. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want anything to do with it.” Noticing he’d taken some offense to the notion that he wouldn’t want his own child, you exhale a small sigh and place a hand on his chest. “Come on, Joel, can you honestly blame me? When you were the one who was so damn worried about me getting knocked up in the first place? Wouldn’t you have thought the same if you were me?”

He grazes your cheek with his thumb. “Can’t lie to you, sweetheart. I probably would have.” Letting his hand fall away from your face, Joel takes a seat on the couch and pulls you down onto his lap. “Sure as hell wasn’t in my plans to have another kid in my fuckin’ fifties. But y’know, the idea of having a little one runnin’ around, it ain’t all that fuckin’ bad.” He pauses, adding with a faint grin, “‘Specially if he or she happens to look like you.”

Relieved, you lean into his chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion.

“You alright?” Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Burying your face into his neck, you breathe him in. “I am now that I’m with you,” you confess as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever has before.

“M’gonna take real good care of you, darlin’. Both of you,” Joel reassures you, softly. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you, baby. S’long as you’re with me, nothin’ or no one is ever gonna hurt you ever again. Swear it on my life.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #joel miller series #Joel Miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tw: dv #tw: domestic violence #tw: pregnancy

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retrievablememories · 11 months

Text

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

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superhaught · 6 months

Text

To Be Another Notch in Your Bedpost

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Reader

Warnings: explicit smut! (18+ MDNI) implied sub/bratty Leighton, implied dom/brat tamer reader, one night stand

(This is my first ever published fic please be gentle! I want to start taking requests for anything Renee/Regina/Leighton so, ya know, tell me if ya like it and wanna see more writing from me)

Word Count: 2700, Part 1/?

Reader has a one night stand with the Leighton Murray.

Explicit Content Below

This party was everything you hated. Loud, unintelligible music. Drunken idiots everywhere. Sticky spills all over the floor and sweaty bodies brushing against you no matter how much you tried to stay out of the way.

You wouldn’t have even come out tonight if it wasn’t for the fact that your friend basically dragged you kicking and screaming out of your dorm and away from your comfortable Netflix binging. You remained steadfast, though. She could bring you to the party but she couldn’t make you enjoy it. While she danced in the middle of it all, you continued to nurse your one cup of punch against the wall, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of people watching.

It wasn’t that you thought you were better than your peers, you just couldn’t match their vibe. You couldn’t let go enough. You couldn’t become uninhibited. Your first year at Essex had been an overwhelming one. Making good friends had been hard. Staying on top of your classes even more so. And finding common ground with the legacy and/or wealthy students had been damn near impossible. Your student job in the library was draining, and your dating life had been nonexistent. This party felt like the absolute last thing you needed to decompress.

You were just about to throw in the towel and say goodbye to your friend when someone unexpected approached you.

“Hey wallflower,” she said, addressing you, “a few of the Theta guys are concerned that you’re bored or drugged. Either way, they want it to be resolved.”

The girl was Leighton Murray. A rising queen bee on campus. She was deeply connected to the school, extremely popular within multiple social groups on campus, and easily one of the most stunning women you have ever seen by far.

You chuckle awkwardly and smile at the blonde, “Ah. Well, I am sorry for disturbing the vibe of the party. I know that the frats work hard to make these go well. But truly, I’m neither bored nor drugged, just… not fitting in.”

Leighton raises an eyebrow at you, “I take it this isn’t your usual scene, then?”

“Not at all,” you admit. “I’m much more comfortable in quiet settings with fewer people to worry about.”

Leighton nods and takes a sip from her own drink, glancing over the crowd thoughtfully. She turns back to you, “What made you come, then?”

You shrug, “I was forced by my friend. Apparently my preferred Friday night of watching Queer Eye and baking brownies for myself in the dorm kitchens depresses her.”

Leighton laughs, “It’s not necessarily a bad thing but definitely not how you should be spending your Friday nights in college…” she looks you up and down for a moment, clearly checking you out, “are you… ya know?” She makes her wrist go limp in that recognizable signal and you can’t help but chuckle.

“What? Gay?” She looks a little embarrassed but you smile warmly and give her a reassuring nod, “Yes, I am. Very much so, don’t worry.”

She nods and takes another drink, and you mirror her. Word spreads quickly amongst the sapphic community at Essex and Leighton had been a big topic of conversation lately. The story was that she had recently come out and was making up for lost time. It wasn’t something that you judged her for, but now that she was here chatting you up, it did make you question the depth of her intentions.

You tilt your head questioningly at her and decide to be bold, “We haven’t connected yet, have we?”

Her cheeks flush and she hides her face with her cup again as she responds, “No… we have not…”

“So were you truly sent by the frat guys to come check on me or did you… maybe volunteer yourself for the task?”

She feigns offense at your question and then shrugs, “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

You flash her a knowing smirk and take another sip of your drink. You’re more than interested in her, but you’re also more than nervous. Casual hook-ups have never been your thing and Leighton was the type of woman that you’d want to spend more than just one exciting night with. But for all you knew, that’s not what she wanted right now.

“Well…” she begins quietly, “since you aren’t enjoying yourself here, would it be okay for me to take you somewhere else?”

You slowly nod your head and meet her eyes, “Can I ask you a question first, Leighton?”

She nods back, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“What are you looking for, right now?”

She gives you a confused expression, “What do you mean?”

“Do you want one fun night and nothing more, or someone who might last longer than one fun night?”

She considers the question for a moment, “Is it important for you to know the answer to that before we go further?”

“It is,” you reply, “I just want to manage my expectations.”

She nods in understanding, “You’re the first person who’s actually asked that… honestly, I’m just looking to feel good. Lately, that has resulted in a string of fun nights… but I’m not opposed to having more than that, really.”

“So, you’re saying that if you hit it off with someone and they asked you out, you wouldn’t outright reject them?”

She nods, “Right. Does that… help you with your concerns?”

“Yeah, it does. Thank you.” You smile again and she smiles back, seemingly moved by your tender nature. You hold out your hand to her and finally introduce yourself and she echoes your name back to you as she happily shakes your hand.

“So… about my offer?”

You giggle and nod, “Get me out of here, Leighton.”

The girl grabs your hand and quickly leads you out of the frat party. You’re able to quickly shoot your friend an explanatory text so that she won’t worry about your whereabouts, and soon enough, you're trailing behind Leighton Murray as she takes you across campus back to her dorm.

You hold onto her hand the entire time. She swiftly unlocks the door to her suite, which is thankfully empty at the moment, and she pulls you straight into her room, shutting the door behind you.

You lock eyes and smile, a little nervously on both of your parts. It was comforting to you that there was some anxiety for her as well. But you’ve never been one to let that anxiousness prevent you from taking the lead. You bring your hands up to her cheeks and cradle her softly as you pull her in towards you and close the distance between your lips. Her eyes flutter shut and a small sigh escapes her as you kiss. The softness of her, the lipgloss she wears, the perfume on her neck… all of it completely tantalizes you and you suddenly have no trouble falling into her completely.

Her hands drift to the small of your back, then she squeezes your ass playfully and yanks you a little closer to her, which prompts you to gently push her backwards so that she’s against the door. Leighton gasps lightly and you smile in the kiss, knowing that your actions have pleased her. Your parted lips give her the opportunity to graze her tongue over your bottom lip and you eagerly accept it and meet her with yours, deepening the kiss.

You begin to trail your hands down her body, letting your fingertips brush skin where it’s exposed and fidgeting with the fabric of her dress as you go down to her hips and hold onto her firmly. Your touch sends a shiver up her spine and she moans. You pause the kiss for just a moment so that you can take a much needed deep breath, but you keep your nose and forehead pressed against her and meet her gorgeous blue eyes again for a second and you can’t help but be in awe, “fuck…” you breathe.

She nods eagerly and pulls you back in for more. You push her back against the door again, keeping her pinned in place as you gently shift her hair out of the way of her neck and you lean down to place kisses on her skin beneath her jawline and along her pulse point.

She sighs and melts, biting her lower lip and burying her fingers into the hair at the back of your neck to hold onto you. Your lips and tongue explore her soft, sensitive skin and you playfully nibble at her earlobe which makes her gasp before you return to her lips and continue making out with her.

You feel her start to rock her hips, trying to grind against you in search of friction where she needs it. You smile and tease her, slowing down your movements and taking your time to worship the other side of her neck and each collarbone.

She groans, “oh fuck… you… tease...”

You smirk and whisper into her ear, “Feeling needy, Leight? If you want something, you’d better ask for it.”

She whines and bites into her lower lip hard but then indignantly shakes her head, deciding to try to maintain a little bit of brattiness rather than just caving right away.

Your hands drop down to her thighs and start to toy with the bottom hem of her dress, inching the fabric upwards bit by bit and making her squirm while you kiss her collarbones and as much of her chest as is exposed by the low cut.

Your fingertips dance over her skin and give her goosebumps as you touch the backs of her thighs feather-light, keeping your pelvis just out of her reach so that when she rocks her hips, she doesn’t find anything to make contact with. You find a great deal of amusement in watching this powerful woman quickly crumble. She pulls your hair harder and gets even more vocal with her whines and groans, cursing in your ear and desperately seeking more deliberate touch from you.

You keep kissing her neck, touching your lips and tongue softly to her hairline and feeling her pounding heartbeat. You barely hear it, a faint whisper escapes her, “please…”

You raise an eyebrow and pull back to look at her face, “Hm? What was that?”

Leighton grumbles and whispers it again, “please… please.”

“Please, what?”

“Oh my god please fucking fuck me!” She finally blurts.

You smile, satisfied, and decide to oblige her instead of gloating any further. You kiss her lips once more before lowering yourself onto your knees between her legs, her mouth falls open and she stares down at you in awe.

You look up at her and maintain eye contact as you hike up the fabric of her dress even more, until it bunches around her hips and exposes her lace panties and an intoxicating inch of skin between her navel and the underwear. You reach your head up and press a soft, cruel kiss to her center over the fabric which makes her jut her hips and groan, falling back against the door a little bit. You can feel how hot and wet she already is and you try not to let that go to your head.

You slide your hands down the skin of her legs and follow your fingers with your lips, kissing her gently, until your hands reach her heels and you start to take them off of her one at a time while watching her face.

“You’re so gorgeous, Leighton.” You tell her.

She just flushes and nods, helping you by kicking her shoes off and out of the way. Your hands return to her thighs and then slowly, you hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and you start to pull them down. She moans and you feel an overwhelming wave of heat race through your own body and settle between your legs. You watch her eyes as you pull the fabric down and she carefully steps out of it, then you take a moment to admire her like this and you feel like all of this must be a dream.

“Are you ready, Leighton?”

She nods emphatically, “God yes… please…”

You nod and help her drape one of her legs over our shoulder as you get yourself into a solid position and bring your face between her thighs.

She leans back, putting more of her weight against the door and with one more affirmative nod, you extend your tongue and drag it along her.

You hear her moan and can sense her letting her head fall back against the door as she winds her fingers into your hair and holds your head firmly in place so that you are less inclined to pull away.

Your senses are flooded by the taste and feel of her and your own eyes roll back before you shut them completely and draw your focus into pleasing this incredible woman. Your lips and tongue start to work on her slowly, you moan against her and she grinds against you and you can tell that she’s already anxious for release.

You drag your tongue languidly through her folds and pause to push it inside of her before returning to her clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with the flat of your tongue. You can easily tell what she likes and wants more of and it doesn’t take long at all to build her up to climax. Your lower face is already drenched in her but you stay in place and maintain the pace and motions that she’s responding to, feeling all of her muscles tense, her breathing quicken and her noises intensify. With just a few more movements of your tongue she finally releases with a long, drawn out moan and you start to slow your ministrations as she rides out her orgasm on your face. She beams widely and laughs joyously through the waves of ecstasy, breathing hard, chest heaving.

You do your best to clean her up and then you quickly stand and help support her as her legs weaken. With a simple lift, you bring her from the door to her bed and lie her down and she curls up with a big smile on her face and says, “holy shit…”

You laugh and crawl into the bed next to her and wrap your arms around her while she rests for a moment, catching her breath and regaining her bearings. You spend a few quiet minutes just spooning her and rubbing her back gently and she smiles and hums happily.

Eventually, she whispers, “You know, I’ve slept with a lot of people recently… but what you just did for me… doesn’t even compare. I feel like you’re on a whole different graph…”

You laugh, “What? That can’t be true.”

“No, I'm being one hundred percent serious. That was insane.”

You smile and get close to her ear and whisper to her, “It doesn’t have to be over…”

“Well right, I need to return the favor…” She starts to roll over toward you but you hold her in place and stop her, leaning over her shoulder and kissing her neck lightly, “sure, you could do that, but I’m talking about it not being over for you…” you whisper against her ear.

“Fuck…” she groans, “are you going for some kind of record?”

“I just want to make you feel good…”

“You’re unreal…”

You flash her a playful smirk and she gets up out of the bed and slips a sock over the door handle to her room, “Bela will understand.”

You both giggle and then she excitedly gets back into the bed with you, climbing onto your lap and immediately capturing your lips in more passionate kisses.

The night skips on, continuing to excite and pleasure you both, and you remind yourself no short of a hundred times to thank your friend for making you come to the party.

Next Chapter

#leighton murray #tslocg #sex lives of college girls #leighton murray fanfiction #leighton murray smut #smut with plot #renee rapp #renee rapp fanfiction #original writing

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ramp-it-up · 22 days

Text

Mood

Summary: You and Steve were “special” friends. Until something that happens on one of your training missions puts Steve into a mood.

Word count: 2.7K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! Early CATWS Steve, talk of hurt, ambush, implied assualt. Angsty, moody Steve, Steve with the urge to kill for you, possessive Steve, Steve pining for reader, idiots in love, Dom Steve, fuck buddies to relationship, fluff, Captain and Sir kink, dirty talk, edging (but not quite), begging, body worship, nipple play, raw p in v, female receiving oral, emotional sex.

A/N: This can be seen as adjacent to the fic Call Me Captain When I..., but can be read as a stand alone. I was in a mood when I wrote it, so here we are.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

NOTICE: I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

After you checked yourself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders, Steve Rogers steamed as he waited for you to get out of the shower. He wanted to be in there with you, but decided to give you some space, and give him some time to cool down.

The fact that you were standing at the visitor’s entrance, in your hospital gown and combat boots as he drove up to sit with you, was the latest thing to get him riled up.

When he saw you, he parked in the fire lane and got out of his car, hands on his hips as he questioned you.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

He eyed the bandage on your forehead and the one on your cheek, fingers trembling as he brushed his thumb over your bruised face.

The rage had not subsided for him over the past three days.

Even after he and Sam beat the medivac to the scene and transported you to the best ER in the area.

Even after he was assured that you were ok by the doctors at the hospital.

Even after you protested that he was overreacting when he set up a security detail at your door headed by Sam.

Even after he’d found who did this to you and… well, seeing you bruised countenance again reignited his emotions.

He wondered how you got around Sam who was posted up. But then, your cunning and skill was a big part of how he felt about you. So was your kindness, intelligence, and beauty.

But you didn’t know exactly how Steve felt about you. And perhaps he didn’t either. Until you were ambushed on a routine training mission with your troops.

You lifted your chin and squared your shoulders as Steve shook his head.

“I’m fine, Captain. I want to go home. I’ve been in the hospital for four days. And on the training mission for 10 days before that. I was due to be discharged in the morning anyway.”

You looked up at Steve. He couldn’t resist those eyes.

“I want to rot on my couch, sleep in my own bed.”

Steve grunted his assent, although the thin line of his lips indicated his displeasure with you.

“How’s your head feel?”

You met his eyes and focused, if only to prove how healthy you were.

“I’m fine, Steve. I just want to go home.”

Steve stared at you, wanting to just take you into his arms, but not doing it. Then, he stared around the parking lot, scanning the perimeter for anyone watching.

“Get in.”

He moved next to you and picked up the plastic bag that had your belongings in it, and put his hand on your back to guide you toward the sportscar.

“But my ride...”

Steve looked down at you as his jaw clenched, the blue fire in his eyes threatening to burn you.

“Get in before I take you over to that bench and spank the hell out of you, Lieutenant.”

You swallowed a gasp and grew warm at the threat.

“Yes Sir.”

You climbed into the passenger seat and sat back as Steve buckled you in, then waved at Sam, who’d come running out of the hospital just as Steve drove away.

You were along for the ride of this mood of your superior, friend, and fuck buddy Captain America, Steve Rogers.

—-

You stood before Steve, wrapped up in your soft, fluffy white robe that he had put into the dryer to warm up and left on the hook on the door of the shower. It was such a sweet gesture that contrasted his cold, harsh demeanor on the way to your place.

You felt as if you were about to be punished, but you didn’t care. You were exhausted. And just a little bit spooked. But that last part was lessened, because Steve was with you here in your quarters. You looked at him, wanting to ask him to stay, but you didn’t.

Steve stalked toward you, and you noticed that he was barefoot, which seemed to indicate that he wasn’t going anywhere soon. You smiled as you dragged your weary eyes up to his face. You decided to go for it.

“Are you staying?”

Steve grunted at you again.

“Just try and get me to leave you alone.”

His deep bass rumbled through you, and you whimpered, despite the fact that he wasn’t even touching you. Something seemed off as he moved toward you, pulling you closer by the tie on your robe.

“I’ve been riding on the edge of insanity ever since that day.”

Steve’s hand was in your hair, gently massaging the exposed scalp between your braids as his eyes took careful stock of your face.

You were shook.

“I’m okay, Steve.”

“I’ve got to see for myself.”

All he wanted to do was to take inventory of you, his rough fingers moving over every inch of your naked body to make sure that every bit of you was okay. He’d almost lost you and was experiencing an almost feral urge to consume you. You could feel the guilt radiating off him.

“Steve. No one could have known. Shit, I’m head of intelligence and I didn’t know.…”

Steve put his finger to his lips, and then yours. He gently stroked your cheek as he kissed you tenderly, carefully.

“Why do you always taste so good? Like you smell. Like sweet coconut…”

He leaned in to kiss you again, groaning as every gentle stroke of his tongue was met with a bolder one of yours. The passion increased until he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. You could tell that he was holding back.

What was wrong with him?

“I know that no one could have known that the mission was a trap. But I feel like I should have.”

His hands moved from your neck, to your torso, down your belly, to the juncture of your thighs. He was sitting on your bed as you stood before him, warmed by the shower, but goosebumps raised on your flesh and your nipples formed into tight peaks as he examined you.

“I’ve never felt the urge to kill as much as I did when I tracked them down. It only took a day and a half to find them, and then a day and a half to get close enough to… “

Steve stopped short of revealing what happened to the people who hurt you and just looked into your eyes. The fury you saw as he looked up at you was chilling, yet arousing. You wanted to ask what he did to them, but you couldn’t. You just looked at his hands to find evidence that you knew wouldn’t be there because of his super soldier healing.

“Steve?”

He didn’t respond to you, just continued to stare at your most intimate parts.

“Captain-”

He looked up at you then.

“What I said at the hospital earlier. I-I have a serious desire to give you a good and proper spanking for almost losing your life, although it wasn’t your fault.”

You started to laugh, but he was serious. The look in his eyes was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

“I can’t give you up. I can’t.”

You shook your head.

“Steve, I’m fine-”

He pulled you to him by your thighs, his large hands grabbing you, gently but firmly, and bringing your crotch close to his mouth. He looked back up at you.

“I know we’ve never talked about this, but…You are my anchor.”

You ran your hands through his hair as his breath tickled your clit.

“I had the barest control while Sam and I were flying to get you, and only a small bit more when I learned you were okay. And now I have to verify that you are ‘fine,’ as you say. I need to see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own hands, taste it ….”

The unspoken part of that statement caused you to shudder as he went back to examining you, His hands moving down your legs, while listening for any sounds of discomfort from you as his skin slid along yours with a gentle but firm pressure, then standing up and depositing you on the bed as he examined you to the soles of your feet.

He placed one of your feet on his pelvis, next to what you’d discovered was his rock hard cock housed in his jeans, and one foot in his hand, beginning to massage it. Steve knew how a sensual foot massage made you wet. He grunted in response to your whimpers, but only turned you over as he examined the back of you.

Steve palmed the globes of your ass and pulled them apart, and you could feel his eyes at the crease of you for a full minute. Then, his palms slid upwards to your spine, smoothing over each vertebrae as he moved up to the back of your neck.

He was on the bed now, between your legs, and pulled your hips up to meet him as he gently circled your neck with his fingers, bringing you up slightly as his other hand rolled and pinched your stiff nipples.

“How do you feel?”

His gruff whisper, full of need and at the shell of your ear elicited a groan and caused you to roll your hips on his rock-hard erection.

“Steve.. I… Please!”

You incoherently pleaded for more as you moved against the stiff fabric of his jeans, making a mess there. Steve looked down and rolled his eyes, his hand rubbing your ass as his palm itched to smack it.

“Mmmmmm. You have no idea how much I want to give you this cock. But you need rest.”

You reached back and slapped your own ass, pulling on your asscheek to enable him to push deeper between your legs to feel how wet you were.

“We also need to talk…”

Steve shuddered at the sensation of you rutting against him, and with every gasp and moan from you his control was dwindling.

“I need it Sir. Please, Captain…”

“Fuck. Maybe just one orgasm. Then you can rest.”

You leaned down to give him that arch and he licked his lips. His cock was in full control of him now.

“Best idea ever, Captain.”

His hand moved to your core, and his fingers were instantly soaked with your arousal.

“Jesus. Looks so good.”

Steve’s dick throbbed and he gritted his teeth against the wave of lust, yet he stood up and took off his own clothes. He watched your empty pussy clench around air and he had to taste it. The minute his lips were wrapped around your clit from behind was the moment you started keening for him.

“God, yes….right… fucking…right there!”

Steve carefully inserted a finger into your cunt as he suckled your clit, trying to be gentle. You bit your lip as he pulled off and started to withdraw his finger slowly.

“So soft for me. But so tight.”

He watched your face as he added another digit, causing your eyes to squeeze shut and your mouth to hinge open as you worked your hips on his hand for some relief.

Your eyes popped open and you blinked rapidly, but he didn’t speed up to the insistence of your hips. When he curved his fingers and found that bundle of nerves inside, pressing gently, you broke apart as he stroked over and over again.

"I–God. I'm going…"

You bowed your body, and Steve watched in awe while your pussy clamped around his fingers.

“Oh yeah. This was what I needed to see. Give it to me.”

Steve rolled his thumb over your clit to extend your orgasm. You open and completely out of control, with no thought of hurt or danger, was the sight that he loved.

And he wanted to make you do it again and again.

“Jesus, you are beautiful. I want to...”

He was fisting his cock and watching your wet, creamy folds as he squeezed your ass for a better view.

“Want more. Please!”

“Hmmph,” He grunted. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

You leaned over again and presented yourself to him, giving him a view of your fingers working your clit and sliding inside yourself.

“Fuck me, Captain. Please…”

Steve actually whimpered. His cock was drawn to you magnetically.

“Are you sure…?”

“Need it.”

Steve cupped your ass harder and guided his cock to your slick, heated cunt and groaned.

“Oh shit. You fucking own me.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and then you looked over your shoulder, locking onto his gaze. You relaxed, causing Steve to sink deeper inside you. You both hissed and Steve’s eyes closed.

“I’m never leaving. Could stay inside you forever. Wanna see that beautiful face.”

Steve grabbed your leg and shifted you down and around, maneuvering you onto your back. His eyes raked up and down your form as his hands found your hips and drew you closer to him and his cock deep inside you again. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss as you arched your chest against his.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, his name a chanted mantra between kisses. With each slide and retreat of his stiff cock in your slick channel, both of your groans got louder. Steve’s gaze occasionally dipped to where you were joined, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You arched your back again, and he dipped his head to draw one of your nipples into his mouth.

"I. Yes. Harder. Oh God. Oh my God."

Against your nipple he muttered, "Let me hear you. So good.”

But he didn’t fuck you harder like you asked. Your response was to tug on his hair, and Steve chuckled around the flesh of your breast.

“I love the sounds you make.”

You moaned loudly, very wet now and very frustrated. The sound of the slick squelching of your act was such sinful music. Steve groaned, his jaw ticked tight from holding back.

“Please!”

But Steve just continued at the same languid pace.

“Later, when you’ve rested, I have plans for these babies,” Steve flattened his tongue and licked around both areolas.

“Gonna lick, bite, kiss, fuck them. Be rough.”

You shuddered as he leaned up and blew on them, causing your nipples to draw up into hard peaks again and your pussy to shudder around him. Steve leaned up and stared at your breasts as they bounced with each thrust and he shook his head as his pace faltered. You clenched around him again and he spoke, his voice broken.

“I know you’re close. Feel so good around me.”

Steve looked into your eyes as he snapped his hips, and your mouth went wide again as he worked his hand between you and found your sensitive clit.

Your eyes crossed as your slick walls clamped around his cock and milked him.

"That's it. Cum for me. I'm so addicted to the sight."

With three more pumps, Steve was coming apart, his control falling away. Another orgasm rolled through you and you tightened around him once more, causing a groan from Steve as you rode out the wave.

“Holy fuck.”

He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he continued to thumb your clit. Good Lord, it was impossible to think at all when he did that. You were a whimpering mess as you begged him again.

“Please Captain. Give me your cum, Sir. Cum inside me.”

Steve buried his head in your shoulder as he sped up incrementally, his cursing muffled against your skin. You rolled your hips to meet him, making him groan again. You turned your head to bite, then whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna cum on your thick cock again. Just fuck me. A little harder. Just three more pumps and I’m there. Pretty please, Sir.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as Steve finally let go and gave you three hard, deep pumps, but as you predicted, he could not stop there.

Steve cursed and fucked you hard, stroking at the devil’s pace for at least a dozen more times, roaring as you stiffened and clamped down on his cock as you came.

“G-g-g-geeez! Fuck!”

Steve was a drooling, practically sobbing mess as the forcefull spray of his cum shot against your cervix, so much so that it leaked out almost immediately. Steve stopped and watched the sight, gasping, mouth open. Then, he looked back up at you.

“Everything about you, about us is so damn perfect. Especially this. We almost lost it. I love you, Libby.”

Your heart surged with emotion, finally understanding what had gotten into him.

“I love you too, Steve.”

You smiled and wiped the tears that were forming at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he softened inside you.

“Shhhhh. Steve. It’s okay. I’m okay. Let’s take this one day at a time. Right now, we both need to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Steve nodded and sank down into your arms as you held onto your super soldier and rocked both of you to sleep.

——

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queen-of-the-avengers · 30 days

Text

Make The Most Out Of A Bad Situation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: minor angst

Summary: Bucky comes to your rescue even though you didn’t ask for it. He punishes you even though you did nothing to deserve it. He kisses you even if it’s supposed to be wrong.

Squares Filled: plums (2020) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

I can’t believe I’m here right now. All I want to do is go home and snuggle in bed where I can watch movie after movie. But no. You can’t really blame Natasha. Her boyfriend is the one who is thrown this party with his best friend who just so happens to be your enemy. You and Bucky have never gotten along, even before Nat and Steve started dating. You don’t want to ask her to leave knowing she came with you. You don’t think she’d mind but she hasn’t seen him in a while and you don’t want to take that from her.

The party scene isn’t really what you’re into, so you decided to take a walk around the ten-acre property. You’ve been to this house plenty of times so you know it like the back of your hand, which is why you’re toward the back where there is this small pond that freezes over in the wintertime. You like to sneak onto the property and go ice skating when you can, and you haven’t been caught yet.

The music can be heard from where you are but it’s faint which gives you some time to think with a clear head. Bucky and Steve bought this property when they were in their early twenties and have taken care of it ever since. They have beautiful plum trees that you love to snack on, and you grab one that is hanging low for the taking. You take a big bite and moan at the delicious taste.

You toss the scraps onto the ground knowing small animals will come to feed off it. This place is notorious for deer passing through it. Not now. Not when there is a major party going on. Speaking of, you should really get back. You’re the one who drove here but maybe Natasha won’t mind staying here and letting Steve take her home. You start to head back when three guys come out from the tree line. You’d be scared if you didn’t know who all three of them were.

They’re Bucky’s annoying and arrogant friends.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask and stop walking.

“See? I told you she’d be out here. All alone like a fucking loser.”

“Yeah, good one,” you roll your eyes.

You try to get past them but they won’t let you go that easily.

“Whoa, where are you going? Stay. Hang out with us,” one of them chuckles.

“No thanks.”

“What an ungrateful bitch, guys. Care to show her what we do to ungrateful bitches?”

On of them grabs your arm tightly and begins to drag you to the pond.

“I hope you love to swim.” That’s when panic sets in. You try tog et away and that makes the man holler in victory. “I think she wants to go for a swim!”

“No, don’t, please!”

You never learned how to swim. You didn’t have a pool growing up, and your parents were too busy to take you to swim lessons. You never liked the water so you never had a desire to learn to swim. Man, you’re regretting that decision right about now.

“Hey.” Everyone turns to see Bucky coming out from behind the trees. “Knock it off. The bitch can’t swim so if you plan on drowning her, do it elsewhere.”

“Whatever. Come on guys. She’s not worth it,” one of them say.

All three of them walk away, leaving you and Bucky by the pond.

“I could have handled that, you know. I didn't need saving, asshole.”

Bucky takes two long strides over to you before pushing you into the warm waters below.

“How about now, doll?” he smirks.

Flight or fight kicks in, and you kick your legs to try and keep your head above water. However, its not working and you’re sinking faster than you’re floating. Seconds later, hands are grabbing your arms and pulling you out of the water. As soon as your feet are planted on solid ground, you must up every ounce of strength and shove Bucky away from you.

“You’re a dick! I’m out of here.”

“With what car?”

His words make you stop in your tracks, and you flip your hair over your shoulder.

“My car.”

“I’ll drive you home. Come on.”

Bucky walks past you but you don’t move an inch.

“If you think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Bucky smirks and reaches into his pocket only to pull out your car keys. What the hell? You feel your pockets and your keys are missing. He must have taken them when he pulled you from the pond.

“It’s not what I think, Doll, it’s what I know. You’re stuck with me until I say otherwise.”

“Give me my keys.” You storm over to him and try to grab it from him but he moves his hands to a height you can’t reach. “What are you, five?” You try again but receive the same reaction. “Fine. Keep them. Shove them up your ass for all I care. I’ll walk home.”

“Take one more step and I’ll gladly throw your ass back in the water.”

You turn to face Bucky and with a smirk, you take one more step back. Bucky moves faster than you can process, and he throws you over his shoulder. You know exactly what is going to happen so this time, you prepare yourself. Bucky tosses you back into the water but instead of going in alone, you make sure to bring Bucky with you. You cling to his clothes and drag him under with you.

He is a whopping six foot man while you’re much shorter than that, so he can stand comfortably on the bottom of the pond and still have his head above water. You wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him like a dryer square on pants. Bucky’s hands go under your ass to keep you there, and you two stare into each other eyes.

“That’s what you get for tossing me--”

Bucky cuts you off and plants his lips over yours in a searing kiss. Never have you ever thought you’d be kissing Bucky Barnes but now that you are, you have no idea why you weren't doing this before. All the pent-up tension and hate turns into passion and lust. His hands claw at your clothes, you fist your hands in his hair, and his lips leave a hot imprint on your skin.

“No, we can’t do this,” you pull away, breathless.

The look in his eyes tells you that he doesn’t care. You lean in again and kiss him, this time with feeling. This might be a one-time thing and if so, you’re going to make the best out of a bad situation.

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just-aake · 1 year

Text

Come with Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You are forced to work with Secretary Ross to track down Natasha after she violated the Sokovia Accords and disappeared.

Warnings: slight angst, light fluff, contains scenes from Black Widow movie/deleted scenes

Words: 4120

Natasha and Yelena sit across from each other at a table, nursing their drinks after they escaped from Budapest. They had just decided to work together to stop Dreykov and his Red Room.

Natasha smiles at Yelena as she nods towards the open garage with the car. “I saw where he put the keys.”

Without hesitation, Yelena replies, “Top drawer, green cabinet.”

The two tilt their bottles towards each other in cheers, the clinking sound echoing in the quiet night as they both take a sip.

Yelena sets her bottle down and begins to lightly spin it around on its edge before tilting her head in question.

“So, when are we going to lose your friend?”

Natasha startles at her question, choking slightly on her drink. Coughing, she recovers her composure before replying.

“What friend?”

Yelena raises her eyebrows and points at Natasha accusingly.

“Really? She’s been following us since we left the city. And you’ve been sneaking glances at her ever since we sat down.”

Natasha scoffs and takes another sip, not commenting further on the accusation.

Yelena squints at Natasha’s nonresponse and attempts a different approach.

“Or we can let her follow us as we take on Dreykov and the other Widows in the Red Room.”

Natasha frowns at that statement and taps her finger against her bottle in thought. On one hand, she is a little nervous to talk with you after what she did, but the alternative is you following her into a dangerous mission that you didn’t sign up for. She already knows which choice she prefers.

Taking a deep breath, she stands from the table and heads toward your direction. Yelena gives her a smug wave before relaxing back into her chair.

Your back was facing her, but Natasha knew you were keeping an eye on her. She pulls out the empty seat next to you and sits down, giving you a flirty smile, “Is this seat taken?”

You don’t respond to her question. Instead, you take a drink, making sure not to look in her direction.

At your silence, Natasha places her arm on the table and rests her head against her hand as she looks at you. Undeterred by your lack of response, she decides to try again.

“So, what brings someone as pretty as you around here?”

You let out a soft laugh in disbelief at her words, shaking your head, before turning to face her, deciding to play along. “Work trip. I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh?” Natasha places her hand gently on yours, leaning closer. “Who are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”

In response, you lean in too, bringing your face close to hers until you are looking right into her eyes.

“Yeah?” Your words whisper against her lips.

You were so close. Natasha could almost feel the gentle brush of your lips against hers, tempting her. She’s about to close the distance between the two of you instinctively like she’s done many times before. But just when her lips were about to touch yours, you move away.

Your smile falls from your face as you pull your hand from under hers and cross your arms. You glare at Natasha accusingly.

“Well, I’m looking for my girlfriend who decided to become a global fugitive overnight and suddenly disappear without any warning.” You give her a pointed look. “And a note that just says ‘I’m sorry’ is not enough.”

Natasha winces at your words and looks away guiltily. Back at her old table, she sees that Yelena is now eating from a small pile of snacks in front of her as she waits. Yelena catches her looking at her and raises a thumb up in encouragement as she continues eating, blissfully unaware of the escalating tension.

Natasha takes a peek back at you. You were still glaring at her, waiting for her response. She attempts to ease the tension in the air.

“You know, I also added a little heart at the end—.”

“Natasha,” you interrupted, giving her a deadpanned look.

Taking a deep breath, she tries to explain.

“Okay, I didn’t want to force you to come with me. It was my choice. I knew what I was doing and the consequences. You shouldn’t have to leave your life behind because of me.”

You huffed at her explanation, annoyed.

“Except you didn’t give me a choice. Instead, I had to track you all the way to Norway, only to find an empty safe house and a car wreck in the middle of a bridge.”

Natasha widens her eyes at you, impressed at how close you were to finding her. Though, it’s not that surprising since you were the best tracker in Shield. In fact, you were the one who found her location back when she was still an assassin of the Red Room before she was recruited to Shield.

“So you’re working with Ross to arrest me?” Natasha asked cautiously.

You scoff at the suggestion, shaking your head in disbelief.

“No, this wasn’t my choice either. We ended up crossing paths in Norway, and then he forced me to join his little search team.”

You let out a huff as you pouted dejectedly, “Stupid Accords.”

Letting out a breath of relief, Natasha smiles fondly at you, happy to hear that you didn’t choose to hunt her down.

You push her shoulder when you notice her smiling at you with the usual love and fondness in her eyes. That look never fails to make your heart flutter.

“Stop that, I’m still mad at you.”

Your reaction just causes Natasha to smile more. You roll your eyes at her, deciding to return your focus to your drink.

The familiar banter helps to lessen the tension as a peaceful silence washes over the two of you. You felt slightly better after hearing Natasha’s explanation, though you’re still unsure if you were going to forgive her so soon. You are both agents, so you understood what Natasha meant, the pressure and dangers that come with this kind of life.

Still, you remember the pain you felt when you found her things missing from your room, and more importantly, it hurt that she didn’t believe that you would follow her if only she had asked.

You decided to change the subject, breaking the silence with a question.

“So, who is she?” you nod towards the stranger at Natasha’s old table.

The blonde girl notices you looking in her direction and gives you a sarcastic wave.

“That’s Yelena. She’s…my little sister.”

You snap your head back to Natasha in surprise, checking to see if she was serious. Her face showed no signs of teasing, just a tired look.

You take the chance to examine her closely. Right away, you can see the exhaustion in her body. She must have had a rough time these past couple of weeks on the run.

You decide to ask her cautiously, “Does she need any help?”

Natasha looks away, catching your underlying question.

“It’s complicated.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath, disappointed at her response. The familiar hurt that you felt when she disappeared resurfaces in your chest.

“In other words, you don’t want me involved in this either.”

“That’s not wha—“

You stand up, interrupting her and turning to leave.

“You two should probably go. Ross and his team will be here by the morning.”

“Wait!” Natasha grabs your arm, stopping you, as she stands up too. You don’t resist, but you don’t turn around either.

She pulls you back towards her, hugging you tightly from behind. Her voice whispers sadly against your ear.

“I made a mistake by disappearing on you suddenly like that. And I really am sorry, but this is different.”

Natasha pushes gently against your shoulder, silently asking you to turn around.

You do and you see an earnest expression on her face, pleading you to believe her.

She holds your hands in between your bodies, keeping you close. Seeing that you were listening, Natasha continues, “It’s not that I don’t want you with me. This is just something that I need to finish, both for Yelena and for myself.”

As you examine her face, you notice the same determination and fierce spirit in her eyes that made you fall for her in the first place. Even though you don’t like the thought of her doing whatever this is without you, you can see how much it means to her.

Letting out a resigned sigh, you give her a small bittersweet smile in understanding.

“So, a personal mission with your other family?”

Natasha let out a small chuckle at your attempt at teasing.

“Something like that,” she pauses in thought, your words giving her an idea. “Actually, you can help me with one thing. Do you think you can find someone? His name is Alexei Shostakov.”

Natasha grimaces before explaining, “He is sort of like my dad.”

You raise your eyebrow at the information before nodding.

“I’ll see what I can find.”

As you attempt to turn away once more, Natasha gently tugs your hands, bringing you closer to her. She leans her forehead against yours.

“About me leaving before…,” she whispered shakily. “You understand that it just wouldn’t be fair to tell you to risk your life and come with me.”

Sighing sadly, you gently remove your hands from hers and place them against her chest, pushing her away slightly.

“That’s the problem.” You give her a sad smile. “You never asked if I would.”

When you see the pained expression on her face, you caress her cheek softly in comfort before placing a small kiss on the corner of her lips.

Pulling away, you sigh resolutely, “Right now, you have your mission and I have mine. Let’s just focus on what we need to get done first.”

A small cough from the side pulls both of your attention. Yelena waves a set of keys in her hand, giving you a short nod in greeting.

“Time’s up. We have to go, Natasha.”

You give her a brief nod back, dropping your hands from Natasha and stepping away completely. You gesture to Yelena’s clothes.

“I like your vest,” you say sincerely.

Yelena beams at your comment.

You look back at Natasha and give her a small smile, “Bye, Natasha.”

Natasha watches sadly as you leave until you disappear from her sight.

Next to her, Yelena nods approvingly in your direction, “I like her.”

Sighing tiredly, Natasha grabs the keys from Yelena, prompting her to yell out in surprise as she trails after her.

“Wha—Hey, I’m the one who got that.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

There was a comfortable silence between the sisters as Natasha focused on driving. That is until Yelena couldn’t contain her curiosity anymore.

“So, that girl…” Yelena trails off, glancing at Natasha cautiously, trying to gauge her reaction to the new topic.

Natasha hummed in response, indicating for her to continue.

“She seems cool."

“She is.”

“How long have you known her?”

“A long time.”

Yelena's mouth twists in annoyance at Natasha’s bland responses, giving her no additional information.

At the sudden silence, Natasha glances at Yelena and finds her staring pointedly out the car window, lips pursed in a pout and arms crossed.

“What?” She questioned, confused at the sudden silent treatment.

“Nothing.”

“Yelena…”

Yelena throws her hands up in annoyance at Natasha’s pestering.

“We haven’t seen each other in years. Now, it just feels like you are trying to shut me out again.”

Natasha was taken aback by the sudden accusation, unaware that she was causing her such distress. Feeling bad, she nudges Yelena in her arms to get her attention.

“Okay then, what do you want to know?”

Yelena squints at her suspiciously.

Natasha sighs at her behavior, before reassuring her. “I’m serious.”

At her words, Yelena turns her body to face Natasha excitedly.

“How did you two meet?”

The question instantly causes Natasha to chuckle at the memory. Yelena raises an eyebrow at her expectantly.

“She was on the mission with Clint to eliminate me in Budapest,” Natasha says. “The first time we met…she shot me.”

“Really?” Yelena's eyes widened in shock.

Natasha nods.

“I found out later that she was the one who was able to track me down.”

Yelena snorts in laughter.

“Not like it’s hard.”

Natasha narrows her eyes, slightly offended.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yelena raises her eyebrows in challenge.

“The tracker she placed on the car?”

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Threw it away before we even started driving.”

“And what about the one she sneaked into your jacket when she kissed you?”

Natasha pauses at the information before reaching into her jacket pocket. Sure enough, her fingers brush against a small circular device. She lets out a small curse under her breath before throwing the tracker out of the window.

“That’s it. No more questions.”

“Wha-no fair!”

Eventually, they reach the designated clearing to see an old helicopter positioned at the center of the field.

“I said we needed a jet,” Natasha calls out to the person in the aircraft.

Rick steps out of the helicopter at her greeting.

“Yeah, you know what you didn’t give me. Time. Or money. I’m not made of jets.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the best,” Yelena says, kicking at the base of the helicopter.

Rick gives Yelena an offended look, shocked speechless.

“How dare you challenge my professionalism!”

“Aww, he’s sensitive. I see why you keep him around,” Yelena teases.

“Where’s the rest?” Natasha interrupts before Rick can quip back.

Huffing, Rick grabs a bag from the plane and opens it with a small flourish.

“Voila,” he says half-heartedly as Yelena goes to dig through the supplies.

Stepping away, he turns towards Natasha, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

“And for you.” Rick holds it out for her to take.

“What is it?” Natasha questions, grabbing the paper.

“A message from your favorite person.” Rick grabs another bag from the helicopter and places it on the ground near her with a huff. “Well, second favorite, I’m first of course.”

Natasha rolls her eyes as she steps away. She opens the note to see the familiar strokes of your handwriting.

Seventh Circle Prison Stay safe ❤️

Natasha’s heart warmed at the last line. You are always caring even when you are supposed to be upset with her. It is one of the many things that she loves about you.

Yelena appears behind her, peeking over her shoulder at the note. She pretends to gag at words.

“That’s so cheesy. I’m gonna throw up.”

Laughing, Natasha pushes her head away from her shoulder, folding your note and tucking it safely into her chest pocket. Natasha gathers her gear and supplies and hops into the helicopter.

“Come on, let’s go.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

They did it. They finally destroyed the Red Room. An aircraft lands near Natasha and Yelena, showing the recently freed Widows waiting for the two of them.

Natasha places the antidote serum into Yelena’s hand.

“He had widows implanted all over the world. You should be the one to tell them that it’s over.”

In response, Yelena takes off her vest before extending it to Natasha, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Here, since you like it so much.”

Natasha takes the vest with a small laugh and puts it on. When she looks up again, Yelena is giving her a pleading look.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

Natasha nods reassuringly, “You guys go. I need to take care of some things.”

At the sound of sirens echoing in the distance, indicating the incoming company, Yelena hops on the plane before turning around to give Natasha a pointed look.

“You don’t have to do it alone. We may not be able to come with you, but I know someone who is willing to.”

Natasha just gives her a small smile as she closes the door of the plane. She watches Yelena and the others fly away just as the sounds of sirens grow closer.

Not long after, a dozen armored trucks pull up around her, and she is quickly surrounded by Ross and his team, all with weapons pointed her way.

When Natasha raises both her hands in surrender, she hears a familiar voice call out in the distance.

“Really, Ross, is all this necessary? She’s not even holding a weapon!”

Natasha smiles amusedly as she watches you shove your way past Ross and march in front of his team’s line of fire toward her. When you finally reach her, your arms wrap around her, pulling her into a tight hug. Natasha’s body groans at the impact, but she still brings her arms around you, welcoming your embrace.

You hold her tight, tucking your head against her neck. She smelled like smoke and fire, reminding you of what you had just witnessed moments before. You pull yourself back abruptly, though her hands are still resting on your waist, keeping you close. You slap her shoulder in anger.

“What part of falling out of the sky without a parachute is staying safe!”

Natasha smirks at your words before defending herself.

“In my defense, I did have a parachute when I jumped.”

You huffed in annoyance before resting your head on her shoulder. You whispered against her neck, “Did you finish?”

Natasha looks at the debris of the Red Room around her before placing a gentle kiss on your head.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Hands up, Romanoff!” Ross’ voice calls out from a distance behind you.

You let out an exhausted groan against her causing Natasha to laugh lightly at you.

“Looks like you still need to finish yours,” she whispers against your ear before giving you one last hug.

Reluctantly, you pull away from her as she returns to her previous position with her hands raised. Stepping back, you notice the new piece of clothing on her. Patting at one of the pockets on the vest, you smirked at her.

“Nice vest.”

“Step away, Agent Y/n!” Ross calls out again.

Rolling your eyes, you finally back yourself away as soldiers take your place to cuff Natasha’s hands. Within minutes, her hands are restrained in front of her body, and she is escorted away.

You watch with your arms crossed as Natasha is ushered into the back of an armored van. She leans her body back against the inside of the car, relaxed and unbothered by her current situation.

The soldiers move to close the door, and at the last moment, Natasha turns her head to look at you before giving you a teasing wink right as the door closes.

You let out an amused huff at her, shaking your head.

“What are you so happy about?” Ross stops next to you.

You give him a professional smile.

“Nothing, just glad the mission’s over.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“The Red Room, under our radar for all these years.” Ross looks at Natasha from the front of the van through the rearview mirror. “And you took them down. All on your own.”

Natasha’s face and body are relaxed and calm as Ross confronts her about the wreckage.

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “Had some help.”

“Who? Agent Y/n?” Ross questioned her.

Natasha gives him her usual smirk, “I was just being humble. It was all me.”

“You know, it’s strange. Agent Y/n can locate the others quickly enough, but when it’s you, she can’t seem to find a trace.” Ross points out accusingly.

Natasha subtly brings her hands to the pocket of the vest that you had touched earlier, stealthily pulling out the small lock pick that you had slipped inside. Keeping her hands low, she responds as she begins to pick the cuffs.

“Maybe you’re overworking her. You should try giving her a vacation.”

Ross scoffs in disbelief, focusing on the road in front.

“Caring about someone who arrested you. At least now we can focus our resources and efforts on finding Captain America. Unless you already know where he is?”

Ross looks up at the mirror when he hears no response. The bench where Natasha was sitting is empty. Shocked, he turned his head behind to see the back doors of the van open, swinging wildly with the movement of the car, and no Black Widow in sight.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Two weeks later, Natasha is meeting with Rick for her new mode of transportation.

“So what’d you get me this time, an upside-down lawnmower?” Natasha teases as she follows him into a field.

Rick looks back at Natasha smugly as he points into the distance.

Natasha stops in shock at the sight, looking between him and the quinjet in disbelief.

“Go on, say it. I wanna hear it. It would be really good for me to hear it.”

Natasha nods at him. “I’m impressed.”

Rick nods in acknowledgment.

“Well, of course. Though I did get some extra help with this one.”

Natasha tilts her head at him in question. The sound of the quinjet’s ramp opening causes her to look back. She sees your familiar figure stroll down the ramp.

“Good luck, mate.”

She feels a pat on her back, pushing her forward, as Rick walks away.

Natasha meets you at the bottom of the ramp.

“New look?” You reach up and twirl a strand of her new blond hair in your hand. Tilting your head, you give her a soft smile. “I like it.”

Natasha gives you a teasing smirk, “Here to arrest me already?”

Rolling your eyes at her teasing, you slide your hand down her arm and intertwine her hand with yours, pulling her up the ramp into the quinjet.

“You know, you had Ross going mad with your escape. Luckily for you and me, he’s currently preoccupied with the wreckage of the Red Room to send out another manhunt for you.”

“That’s some good news at least,” Natasha says in relief.

You bring her to the control panel. Dropping her hand, you grab a tablet and punch in some codes before turning it to her.

Natasha examines the screen which shows a bunch of different coordinates and a blinking marker. She zooms in on the map curiously.

“What’s this?”

“I found Steve’s current safe house location. You should probably pick him up first before you head to the Raft for the others.”

Natasha’s head shoots up to look at you, surprised.

You smile at her expression knowingly.

“You have a kind heart, Natasha. You are always going to save and protect your family. Both of your family.” You wrap your arms around her in a tight hug, tucking her head against her neck.

“Just promise me you’ll be safe.”

Natasha presses a kiss on your head in promise. “I will.”

You pull yourself back from her embrace, though she still has her arms around you. She searches your eyes nervously.

“Are you leaving?”

You give her a hopeful smile.

“That depends on you.”

Natasha opens her mouth, but no words come out. A silence falls between the two of you.

Feeling disappointed, you press a soft kiss on her cheek before moving away from her arms. You begin to head towards the exit. Right before you leave, you turn your head over your shoulder to look at her one last time. “Good luck, Natasha.”

Natasha watches sadly as you go, but then Yelena’s words run through her head, encouraging her. Determined, she chases after you and catches your arm, turning you back around to her.

“Nat–?”

She interrupts you before she loses her nerves.

“This mission is dangerous. I have no idea what’s going to happen. Even if we do succeed, we will be constantly on the run. You won’t be able to go back to the life you had before.”

She stresses the severity of the situation, trying to make you understand what you would be risking.

Unfazed by her words, you just raise your eyebrows and smile at her expectantly.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Natasha can’t stop the small smile that appears on her face at your calm expression.

“Knowing all that,” Natasha pauses as she searches your eyes before releasing a nervous breath, “would you still want to come with me?”

Smiling brightly, you grab her vest, pulling her in close. Your lips brush over hers lightly.

“That took you long enough to ask.” You close the small distance, bringing her in for a deep kiss. Her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer.

Natasha was the one who pulled away first, giving you a smirk, “That wasn’t an answer.”

Wrapping your arms around her neck, you give her a determined but loving gaze, making sure she sees how serious you are.

“I would follow you anywhere.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for all the nice comments, reblogs, and likes on my previous post. That was really unexpected, but I'm glad that you all enjoyed it.

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