#but she is not my jam and i don't know that i will ever write her

[countingnothings]

okay so we’re at the stage in the post-nona process where we are full-on writing “and they never went to canaan house!!” aus and “and they finally talk about their feelings!!” alecto speculations

[florencemtrash]

Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his meta’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin. 

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips. 

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears. 

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was. 

But that was his own fault. 

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.” 

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing. 

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered. 

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there. 

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass. 

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured. 

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now. 

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame. 

No.

  Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own. 

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you. 

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look. 

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!” 

“I have more just like them.” 

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips. 

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel. 

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.” 

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.” 

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out. 

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another. 

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.” 

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word. 

“Yes… I know.” 

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home. 

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. 

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching. 

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it. 

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him. 

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again. 

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong. 

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.” 

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand. 

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows. 

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching. 

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin. 

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it. 

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him. 

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else. 

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.” 

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.” 

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.” 

“I like it when my clothes are loose.” 

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth. 

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!” 

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door. 

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing. 

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others. 

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now. 

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward. 

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics. 

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome. 

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!” 

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered. 

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go. 

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace. 

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?” 

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!” 

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care. 

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!” 

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face. 

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating. 

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled. 

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave. 

“Well?” You snapped. 

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.” 

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy.  “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…” 

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.” 

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.” 

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was. 

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged. 

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—” 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly. 

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his. 

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs. 

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic. 

But his hands. 

His hands. 

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste. 

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree. 

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there. 

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt. 

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt. 

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more. 

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving. 

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…” 

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.” 

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth. 

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago. 

“I’m so sorry—” 

“Azriel, it’s ok.” 

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—” 

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.” 

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it. 

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He started laughing too. 

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support. 

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled. 

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.” 

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes. 

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere. 

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance. 

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily. 

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones. 

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.” 

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.” 

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away. 

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted. 

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone. 

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in. 

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt. 

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides. 

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath. 

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.” 

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening. 

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore. 

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this. 

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears. 

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms. 

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.” 

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.” 

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions. 

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.” 

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.” 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House. 

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself. 

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air. 

[winterarmyy]

He Hates Me, Doesn't He?

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: You hurt Bucky's girl, and now he hates you.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.7k++

Warnings: angstyyyyyyyyy, but with happy ending because I cannot live in agony. miscommunication galore. 'I want to strangle bucky's girlfriend.' soft reader, cold/mean bucky. bucky should've grovel more. horrible attempt of writing verbal arguments. nothing much but pain.

Inspiration: I remember reading a bucky fic years ago and I like the pain that it caused me to feel. Idk why the pain suddenly came back to me lately. So, this is my take on the same idea. I haven't able to find it. But when I do, I'll reblog it in my another acc!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

y/n had always been a steady presence in the Avengers, known for her gentle demeanour and unwavering support. Her relationship with Bucky Barnes had blossomed from a quiet friendship into something deeper. When they first met, Bucky was reserved and hesitant, still grappling with his past as the Winter Soldier. y/n, with her gentle nature and patient understanding, slowly helped him come out of his shell.

She remembered the sleepless nights they spent together when they were on the run with Steve and Sam. They'd share stories, and sometimes just sit in silence, her quiet company offering solace to Bucky's restless mind. The unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day. Bucky looked up to her, finding comfort in her presence, and in turn, he became fiercely protective of her. They'd watch each other's backs during missions, their synergy on the battlefield a testament to their deep connection. 

And somewhere along the line, she fell for him. She had fallen for Bucky's resilience and vulnerability, though she never expected more, knowing that a relationship was not what he needed right now. At least, that's what she thought. Little did she know, Bucky had always loved her; ever since the day she offered him tea the first night they were on the run to Wakanda. Maybe she was just simply aloof, or maybe Bucky’s flirting skills weren’t translated the way he wanted, but they never crossed the line between friendship and ‘something more’.

Then when Jen came into the picture, it felt like things started to change. Jen was bold and confident, and it wasn't long before she caught Bucky's eye. Their relationship seemed to spring up overnight, and y/n, though hurt, tried to be happy for Bucky. Jen was supportive and caring, or so it seemed, and Bucky deserved happiness.

Now, as planned the team was instructed to moved into the Avenger compound for a few months to train new recruits. It had only been the first month but surely it was jam packed with endless of rigorous training sessions. The original team—y/n, Sam, Bucky, Jen, Clint, and his mentee Kate Bishop—were all assigned to train the new recruits, with additional of few agents from different branches coming in to help out.

y/n was heading to the training room; she knew it was way too early but she thought that if she didn’t get out of bed now, she might not even get up at all. To her surprise, she was not the first one. She saw a few new trainees were already on the way to the training room; some of them greeted her a good morning. She simply smiled at their enthusiasm. 

The moment she entered the area, she overheard voices coming from the corner of the room. She paused, recognizing Jen's voice, which was raised and laced with contempt. Curiosity piqued, y/n stepped closer, staying just out of sight behind the white board. In hindsight, it might seem weird that she was sneaking around to eavesdrop on Jen, but she couldn't help it.

Initially, y/n liked Jen. She tried to welcome her into their tight-knit group and even supported her relationship with Bucky. However, as time went on, Jen began acting strange. The things she said about Bucky sometimes sounded condescending. She would make comments like, "It's amazing how well he's adjusted, considering his past," or, "It's great that he's trying so hard to be normal." The way she acted often differed from her words, with Jen giving Bucky disapproving glances or sighing heavily whenever he mentioned something from his troubled past.

She had noticed these discrepancies and started to feel uneasy around Jen. She couldn't shake the feeling that Jen’s support was just a facade. Now, standing behind the whiteboard, she strained to hear the conversation.

"…and honestly, I don’t understand how anyone can trust him," Jen was saying. "I mean, sure, he's got that whole 'reformed hero' thing going on now, but let’s be real. He was Hydra’s pet assassin for decades. The things he’s done? It’s unforgivable."

Her friend, another agent from a different branch, nodded hesitantly. "But you’re dating him, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you trust him?"

Jen laughed, a cold, humourless sound. "Dating him? Please. I’m in it for the fame and the perks. Have you seen the way people look at us? Besides, he’s hot, I’ll give him that. But trust him? Never. People like him don’t change. They’re broken. He's a monster, and he always will be. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps again."

y/n felt a surge of anger rise within her. How dare Jen talk about Bucky like that? 

Memories flooded her mind, flashing back to Bucky’s nightmare-plagued nights. She remembered the prominent dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that never quite left his face. The silent pain he endured, adjusting to a modern world where he felt like an outsider, magnified when Steve left. She could still see the wary, suspicious glances people cast in his direction, the whispers behind his back when they first ventured out. Before the fame he acquired as he regained his reputation after the Flag-Smasher incident.

She had witnessed his hardships firsthand—the nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat, the moments of crippling doubt and self-loathing. But she had also seen his triumphs, the small victories that slowly built his confidence. The first time he laughed freely in her presence, the genuine smile that lit up his face when he finally allowed himself to relax. She cherished those moments, the sunshine that broke through the clouds of his tortured past.

All of this came rushing back, breaking the chains on the Pandora's box inside of her. The fury she felt wasn't just for the disrespect to Bucky; it was for every ounce of pain he had suffered, every moment of joy he had fought so hard to reclaim. Her eyes hardened with resolve as she stepped forward, her voice steady but cold. "Take that back," she demanded, her presence startling both Jen and her friend.

Jen turned slowly, a smirk spreading across her face as she saw y/n. She knew from the beginning about the cute little crush y/n had on Bucky. To be frank, everybody sort of knew about it, except for Bucky somehow. 

"Or else what, y/n?" she replied with a mocking tone. "You’re quite pathetic aren’t you? You think that I can’t see how you’ve been eye-fucking my boyfriend all this time? Come on, now. Backing him up would not give you a leeway into his pants, y/n."

y/n’s face went through a range of emotions—shock, embarrassment, and then seething anger. Jen’s words were like poison, each one landing like a punch to the gut.

Jen continued, confidence oozing out of her cocky demeanor, "Besides, we all know that I can easily beat you in a fight, doll" 

The use of doll—a nickname Bucky had given y/n from day one, when Steve had quite literally kidnapped Bucky from the government—made y/n blood boil. Hearing it from Jen felt like a personal attack, a deliberate attempt to undermine everything she shared with Bucky.

And it was true that Jen had graduated top of her batch from the Avengers program and had countless successful missions under her belt, but y/n knew this wasn't about accolades or abilities. This was about something deeper, something more personal.

y/n clenched her fists, taking a step closer. "You think this is about who can fight better?" she said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "This is about respect. You don’t get to talk about Bucky like that."

Jen scoffed, a cruel smile on her lips. "Respect? For that monster? You’re delusional. He’s a ticking time bomb, a liability to the team. And deep down, everyone knows it."

y/n’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, she slapped Jen hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Jen stumbled and fell to the ground, shock and anger flashing across her features.

She stalks forward like a predator cornering its prey, "I’m just done with your lies and your insults. Bucky deserves better than you." Jen instinctively crawled backwards towards the centre of the room. Seeing that she got the attention of the few new recruits she regained her composure, smirked again, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "You’re pathetic, y/n," she taunted. "Defending a lost cause." her voice was loud enough for y/n to hear but quiet enough that the others might not be able to decipher her words.

At that moment, Bucky and Sam burst into the room, followed closely behind by a new recruit who alerted them of the incident. Bucky’s eyes widened as he took in the scene—Jen on the ground, y/n standing over her, shaking with rage. "What’s going on here?" His demand was completely ignored as y/n’s mind was hyper-focused on the wrath bubbling within her. 

"Get up," y/n demanded, her voice shaking with wrath. Bucky’s momentarily froze as he watched the confrontation escalate before him. y/n, usually so composed, was now a whirlwind of rage, her eyes blazing as she stood over a trembling Jen. Bucky had always known her to be fierce in battle, but this was different—this was raw, unbridled anger. "I'm going to make you regret every word you said. So get on your fucking feet before I rip it off you.." 

Jen, still on the ground, looked up at y/n with wide, teary eyes, playing the role of the victim to perfection. "Please, I didn't– I don’t know what you're…," she whimpered, casting a fearful glance at Bucky and Sam, who had just arrived on the scene.

Bucky's mind raced. Why was she doing this? He stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "y/n, hey!" he shouted, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "What are you doing?"

Completely ignoring him, "Get up," y/n snarled, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Get up and fight me. I’ll show you who the real monster is." Jen looked up, her hand on her cheek, disbelief mingling with her fury. "You’re crazy," she spat, scrambling to her feet.

Her response was only a furious shout. "I said, get up!"

"y/n, are you crazy?!" Bucky yelled, moving quickly to intervene. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unforgiving.

She turned her fierce gaze towards Bucky; her expression momentarily faltering at the hurt in his eyes. "Bucky, you don’t understand, she--" she began, but the words caught in her throat as she saw Jen's smirk flicker for just a second.

"There's nothing to understand," Bucky snapped. "You’re acting insane."

y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt and frustration. "Bucky, you have to listen—"

But he cut her off, his expression hard. "I don’t care! You hurt her, y/n. You think I don’t see that bruise on her cheek?!" Bucky shouted, his face contorted with anger. His eyes, usually filled with a gentle warmth when he looked at y/n, were now blazing with fury. "This isn’t like you, y/n. I’ve noticed that you’ve never liked Jen, and I don’t know why. But this? This is just immature and reckless." His metal grip on y/n's wrist was tighter than he intended. She winced, her eyes watering not just from the pain but from the sting of his words. 

y/n had never seen Bucky like this. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves. It was like being hit with a physical force, and she felt her heart breaking under the weight of it. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her anger flaring even hotter. "Bucky, you don’t understand," she tried to explain, but the words caught in her throat.

Bucky’s expression remained hard, the force on her wrist tightening painfully. "You need to grow up, y/n," he seethed, his disappointment evident in his tone. "You're always causing drama lately, and it needs to stop. Jen’s been there for me in ways you haven’t, and I won’t tolerate you attacking her like this."

The words cut through her like a knife. Her heart shattered at his harshness, at the realization that Bucky thought so little of her. She yanked her wrist free, feeling the sting of his grip lingering. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Believe what you want."

Without another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Bucky standing there, torn between confusion and guilt.

A gnawing sense of remorse tugging at him, but he couldn't shake the confusion and anger clouding his mind. "Jen, are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

Jen, tucking herself to his side, managed to summon a few tears, looking up at Bucky with a feigned innocence. "I don’t know why she hates me so much," she murmured, playing her part perfectly.

Bucky fingers softly traces on her wounded cheek before his gaze switched to y/n’s retreating form, a knot tightening in his chest. He wasn’t sure why those mean words had spouted out of his lips. Was it because he saw Jen injured on the ground and his protective instincts kicked in? Or was it because Jen had been whispering doubts in his ear about y/n’s loyalty, making him question his longtime friend? 

The truth was, Bucky had always relied on y/n’s unwavering support. She had been his rock through the toughest times, and seeing her so furious, so hurt, shook him to his core. Yet, in the heat of the moment, he had lashed out, unable to reconcile the image of Jen crying with the fierce anger that radiated from y/n.

As Bucky comforted Jen, his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the image of hurt on her face, nor could he ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

On the side, Sam was only able to watch the scene play out silently, a frown creasing his brow. He had a feeling there was more to this story, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

As weeks passed, the rift between Bucky and y/n deepened, fueled by Jen's cunning manipulation. In a private conversation, Jen planted seeds of doubt in Bucky's mind, suggesting that y/n harboured hidden resentments and intentions.

"I hate to say it, Bucky, but maybe she's not who we thought she was," Jen insinuated, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe she's been hiding her true feelings all along, waiting for the right moment to strike." 

Bucky, already vulnerable and confused after the incident in the training room, absorbed Jen's words like poison, allowing them to fester and take root in his mind. He began to view y/n through a new lens, one tainted by suspicion and distrust. This single conversation, filled with subtle manipulations and insidious suggestions, was all it took to fracture the bond between Bucky and y/n, leaving Bucky cold and distant towards the one person who had always stood by his side.

Most days he would avoid eye contact with her during team meetings, barely acknowledging her presence when they were forced to interact. In training sessions, his instructions to her were curt and clipped, lacking the warmth and camaraderie they once shared. y/n felt each of these interactions like a stab to the heart.

She couldn't understand how quickly Bucky had turned against her, how easily he had accepted Jen's version of events without even giving her a chance to explain. The hurt festered inside her, eating away at her sense of self-worth.

Then one night, as y/n sat alone on the rooftop, staring out into the darkness, Sam found her there. He knew this was where she retreated when she needed space to think, to process her emotions. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her without a word.

"Why aren't you at dinner, y/n?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence. He could see the emptiness in her eyes, the weight of her sorrow pressing down on her.

She shook her head, her voice hollow. "Lost my appetite," she muttered, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

Sam gently prodded, knowing there was more to her withdrawal than just a lack of hunger. "Is it because of what happened the other day at the training room?" he asked softly.

Instantly, her demeanor shifted. Anger flared in her eyes, directed not just at Jen and Bucky, but at the entire situation. "I don't want to talk about it, Sam," she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. But Sam wasn't one to give up easily, especially when he knew how much y/n was hurting. "Come on, y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but insistent. "You can't keep bottling this up. Talk to me."

Her expression softened slightly at Sam's persistence, but the pain still lingered in her eyes. "Seriously, Sam, please just drop it," she pleaded, her voice wavering with emotion.

Sam could see the cracks forming in her facade, the vulnerability seeping through the tough exterior she usually projected. Without a word, he pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her bury her face against his shoulder.

As she clung to him, her facade finally crumbled. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbreak. "Bucky hates me."

Sam held her tighter, offering silent comfort as she grappled with the weight of her sorrow. He knew there were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend the shattered pieces of y/n's heart. But in that moment, all he could do was be there for her, a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

The dim glow of the kitchen's overhead light provided a faint sense of solace in the otherwise silent darkness of the compound. Bucky sat at the wooden table, his tired eyes staring blankly at the cup of untouched tea before him. It was a nightly ritual lately, this dance with sleeplessness and the haunting memories that lurked in the shadows of his mind yet again.

Footsteps broke the stillness, and Bucky's gaze shifted to the entrance of the kitchen. y/n stood hesitantly in the doorway, her presence casting a tentative aura over the room. There was a palpable tension between them, an unspoken weight that hung heavy in the air.

She cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was expecting Bucky to ignore her completely but he didn’t; Bucky simply shrugged nonchalantly, his guard seemed to flatter. "Suit yourself," he muttered.

As she quietly took a seat opposite him, a heavy silence settled between them. Bucky's thoughts churned with a whirlwind of emotions, each one vying for dominance over the others. His guard seemed to falter in the presence of her tentative yet comforting aura. The weight of his own vulnerability loomed large in his mind, drowning out the anger he had harboured towards her.

As the silence stretched between them, she felt a surge of compassion wash over her. She knew why he was awake at this time. She knew that the tea he brewed was to help him sleep. She was the one who planted that habit to him after all.

And despite everything that had transpired between them, she couldn't bear to see Bucky suffer alone. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she decided to reach out to him, to offer what little comfort she could.

Without a word, y/n rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Bucky's chair. He stiffened at her touch, his muscles tense with apprehension. But as her gentle hands began to massage the tension from his neck, a wave of unexpected relief washed over him.

Her touch was soft and comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness he had grown accustomed to due to Jen’s unwillingness to acknowledge this side of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to relax, to let go of the burdens that weighed heavily on his shoulders. For a brief moment, Bucky allowed himself to forget the walls he had built around his heart. In her presence, her voice, and her touch; he felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of warmth that he had long since forgotten.

But then, like a sudden gust of wind extinguishing a fragile flame, the weight of Jen's words came crashing back down upon him. Anger flared within him, hot and fierce, directed not only at y/n but at himself for allowing his heart to yearn for her.

He pushed himself away from the table, his movements sharp and abrupt. "I don't need your pity, y/n," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "Just leave me alone."

With that, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving y/n alone in the suffocating silence.The disbelief that clouded her thoughts gave way to a searing agony that twisted in her chest. How could he say such things? How could he push her away so callously, after everything they had shared?

y/n buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. The weight of her shattered dreams pressed down on her, crushing her spirit beneath its merciless grip. She had never felt so alone, so utterly abandoned by the one person she had trusted above all others.

The pain of losing Bucky, of losing the love that had sustained her through the darkest of times, threatened to consume her whole. Each breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled her soul.

In that moment of crushing despair, she couldn't help but believe that Bucky truly hated her. The thought tore through her like a knife, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that no amount of time or distance could ever hope to heal.

As she sat alone in the suffocating silence of the kitchen, y/n felt the full weight of her heartbreak descend upon her like a tidal wave. She was lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, drowning in the agony of losing someone she had loved so deeply, so completely. And in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find her way back to the surface again.

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky lingered just out of sight, his heart heavy with guilt. He wanted to go back, to take back his harsh words and hold her close, to chase away the tears that stained her cheeks. But the poison in his mind was too strong, clouding his judgement and trapping him in a cycle of self-destructive despair. And so, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, leaving y/n to cry alone in the darkness.

The mission had already been tense enough, but as y/n found herself face to face with Jen in a location she wasn't supposed to be, the atmosphere crackled with an added layer of hostility. It was as if fate had conspired to place them in this confrontation, and her jaw clenched involuntarily as she braced herself for what was to come.

Jen's presence in that spot was no coincidence, and she knew it. Her suspicions were confirmed as Jen turned to face her, a smirk playing on her lips, a gleam of malice in her eyes. y/n's grip tightened on her weapon, her pulse quickening as she prepared for the verbal assault she knew was coming.

"How does it feel, knowing that Bucky hates you now?" Jen's words sliced through the air like a knife, each syllable carrying the weight of y/n’s deepest fears. It was a direct hit, striking at the core of her insecurities, and for a moment, she felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet.

But she refused to let Jen see her falter. With a steely resolve, she squared her shoulders and met Jen's gaze head-on, her expression a mask of defiance. She may have been shaken by Jen's words, but she refused to let them break her.

Ignoring the taunts, she focused on the mission at hand, determined to prove her worth despite Jen's attempts to undermine her. But with each passing moment, the weight of Jen's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over y/n’s every move.

It was a battle on two fronts – against the enemy they faced together, and against the doubts that threatened to consume her from within. But she refused to back down, drawing strength from the knowledge that she fought not just for herself, but for the team she believed in with all her heart.

But Jen's relentless barrage of insults made it difficult to concentrate, her words like daggers slicing through y/n’s defenses.

"Aww come on y/n, bet you’re reeling in the loss right now, aren’t you." Jen continued, her voice ice cold. "The Asset’s little lapdog, clinging to him like a lost puppy."

y/n’s temper flared at the insult, her grip tightening on her weapon as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But Jen's mocking laughter only fueled the fire burning within her, pushing her to the brink of her patience. "Shut your mouth, Jen," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Or I swear to God, I'll make sure that the team finds your body disassembled in one of these rooms."

Jen simply rolled her eyes, unfazed by her threat. "You love him that much, huh?" y/n had no intention to deny that fact; she does love him, "More than you ever could." her voice was firm and true. Jen’s smirk fell as she scoffed. "Ain't that cute, the Winter Soldier and his little psycho sweetheart."

Before y/n could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a knife, freezing her in place. It was Bucky, his expression dark and stormy as he stepped into view. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took in the scene before him.

y/n’s heart sank as she realized that Bucky might have heard everything. She turned around to meet his eyes and his face confirmed her suspicion; he heard it.  Bucky had heard everything – every taunt, every insult, every word exchanged between her and Jen; even the confession of her true feelings. She met his gaze; searching for some sign of understanding of his emotions and the little that she saw was: disappointment, betrayal and guilt, mirrored back at her in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. 

In that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms, to pull him away from all the painful memories and hurtful words; so far away that he would forget he had ever been taunted, betrayed, or made to feel less than he was.

Before she could utter a word, let alone take a step towards him, Jen's voice broke through, but it lacked the usual confidence. "Bucky, it's not what you think," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between Bucky and y/n. "I-I was just..."

y/n’s clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin as Jen stumbled over her words, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. She could see the confusion and hurt in Bucky's eyes, a reflection of the turmoil raging within her own heart.

"I-I mean," Jen continued, her voice faltering. "I was...um...just trying to...uh..."

But her feeble attempts to justify her actions only served to further incense Bucky. His brow furrowed in anger, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to hear any more lies."

y/n’s heart ached as she watched Bucky's expression darken with anger and disappointment. She wanted to explain, to tell him the truth about Jen's betrayal and her own misguided attempt to defend him. But the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her guilt and regret.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky turned away, his shoulders slumped with defeat. "Let's just finish the mission," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We'll deal with this later."

As he was about to walk away, y/n noticed a red dot on his chest, the unmistakable mark of a sniper's laser sight. Without thinking twice, she leaped towards him, her body acting as a human shield. Time seemed to slow down as she collided with Bucky, pushing him out of the way.

"y/n, no!" Bucky shouted, his voice filled with panic as her body slumped against his chest.

In the chaos, Jen was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped away, taking shelter and ultimately fleeing the area as she heard multiple footsteps approaching.

Bucky tried to pull up his gun, but it was too late. An array of bullets rained down on them. He felt the searing pain of a few shots piercing his own flesh, but it was nothing compared to the sight of y/n’s body being riddled with bullets. She was hit in the shoulder, wrist, thighs, and other places Bucky couldn't even register.

Rage surged through Bucky like an inferno, obliterating any semblance of restraint. He moved with a deadly precision, his eyes blazing with fury as he unleashed a storm of bullets on the enemy. His movements were swift and unforgiving, every shot finding its mark with brutal accuracy. The enemy fell one by one, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder, but Bucky's focus was unyielding.

Within moments, the room was cleared, the enemies wiped out in a flurry of rage-fueled vengeance.

The adrenaline ebbed away, leaving Bucky standing amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. He turned, and his eyes fell on y/n's crumpled form. The sight of her lying in a pool of her own blood shattered his rage, replacing it with a crushing wave of worry and panic.

"Hang in there. Please," Bucky hastily spoke, his voice trembling. He activated his com line, desperation seeping into his tone. "Guys, we need help. y/n... she's... she's been shot. We need to get out of here right now!" Panic coursed through him as he turned his attention back to y/n, frantically trying to stop the bleeding on her stomach. "y/n, doll…please" he pleaded, watching her hazy gaze. "Don't you dare give up on me now. Come on."

"babydoll, stay with me!" Bucky cried, his voice breaking as he cradled her in his arms. Blood soaked through her clothes, staining his hands. "Please, hang on, you can’t leave yet. I haven't told you... I haven't—" 

Her eyes fluttered open, her breathing shallow and ragged. "It's okay, Bucky," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "It's okay. Don't cry." Her shaking hands struggled to move, and with great effort, she managed to cup Bucky's cheek. The gesture was weak but filled with tenderness. "It's okay," she repeated, her fingers trembling against his skin.

"Don't talk like that," Bucky choked out, his own tears mingling with the blood on his face. "You can't.. I haven't told you...please doll..." His voice wavered with the weight of unspoken words and unconfessed feelings. He hadn't told her how much he truly cared for her, how every moment spent away from her felt like an eternity. He hadn't begged for forgiveness for his coldness, his mistakes, and for letting Jen's poison taint his actions. The guilt gnawed at him, each heartbeat a reminder of the words he hadn't said, the emotions he hadn't expressed. 

He pressed her hand harder against his cheek, feeling the warmth of her touch anchoring him in the moment.Her hand weakly brushing against his cheek. "I know, sweetheart," she murmured. "I know."

Bucky's heart shattered as he clung to her, feeling her life slipping away. "No, no, no," he muttered desperately. "You can't leave me. Please, y/n. Please."

She smiled faintly, her eyes closing. "I'm here, Bucky. I'm right here."

With a final, shuddering breath, y/n’s consciousness slipped away. Bucky felt a surge of panic, but he knew he had to move. He lifted her limp body, cradling her against his chest as he ran towards the quinjet. Each step was agony, his own injuries slowing him down, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting y/n to safety.

"Hang on, y/n," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Hang on. I won't let you go."

In the sterile environment of the medical bay, y/n lay unconscious, her body hooked up to various machines that monitored her vital signs. Bucky sat by her bedside, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Every beep of the monitor seemed to echo through the silence, a haunting reminder of her fragile state. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing her bandaged wrist.

Memories of their time together flooded Bucky's mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the connection they shared. He remembered the laughter they had shared, the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. He remembered the gentle touch of her hand, the warmth of her smile that never failed to chase away the darkness.

But amidst the memories, there was also pain – the pain of their last conversation, the words left unsaid and the choices left unmade. Bucky's throat tightened as he recalled the day he had walked away from Jen, the air thick with tension and unspoken truths.

His voice was cold and final. "You almost got her killed, Jen," he had said, his eyes blazing with anger. "Stay away from us. Stay away from me."

Jen's eyes had flashed with anger, her words cutting like knives as she lashed out in frustration. "And what, you think you'll find someone better than me?" she had spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Good luck with that, Bucky. You'll never find anyone who would put up with your baggage."

But Bucky had remained resolute, his decision fueled by a sense of longing and regret that threatened to consume him whole. "Maybe not," he had admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't truly care about me."

Now, as Bucky sat by y/n’s bedside, the weight of his decision bore down on him like a crushing weight. Tears welled in his eyes as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers trembling with emotion.

"I'm so sorry, babydoll," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I never meant for any of this to happen. So, please, wake up. I need you."

But y/n remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and weak as she lay before him. And as Bucky watched over her, his heart heavy with worry and regret, he vowed to do whatever it took to bring her back to him, to keep her safe from harm for all eternity.

For in that moment, Bucky realized that he couldn't bear to lose her – not now, not ever. She was his rock, his anchor in a world of uncertainty and pain. And as he held her hand tightly in his own, he prayed with all his heart that she would find her way back to him, to the love and light that had always guided them through the darkness.

The soft hum of machines filled the air as y/n stirred awake, her senses slowly coming back to her. She blinked, disoriented at first, until her gaze fell upon Bucky, who was sleeping soundly in the chair beside her bed. His hands were clasped tightly around hers, his face peaceful in slumber, but she couldn't help but notice the tear stains on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines etched into his forehead.

"How long has it been since?" she wondered to herself, her heart aching at the sight of Bucky's exhausted form. She carefully sat up, trying not to disturb him as she lovingly examined his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingertips.

Bucky groaned as his sleep was interrupted, muttering something about Sam needs to leave him be; before he abruptly sat up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Hi there," y/n greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with affection as she watched Bucky's reaction.

For a moment, Bucky seemed unable to comprehend that she was finally awake. His eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. But then the realization hit him, and he threw himself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace as if she were the most precious thing in the world .Despite the pain that shot through her body, she managed to let out a soft chuckle, returning his embrace with equal fervor. The warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering chill of unconsciousness, and for a moment, everything felt right.

"y/n..." Bucky breathed into her neck, his voice trembling with emotion. She hummed in response, her heart swelling for him. "Hmmm?"

Not wanting to let go of her, Bucky called her name once again, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "y/n-..." She paused, her lips curving into a tender smile as she whispered in his ear, "Yes, Bucky?"

Bucky tightened his grip, his breath hitching in his throat as he buried his face in her shoulder. y/n gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "I'm here, sweetheart." The scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth against him—it all felt overwhelming. Emotions churned inside him like a tempest. Relief, guilt, love, and fear battled for dominance, leaving him raw and exposed.

She gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "Bucky, I'm not going anywhere.

Bucky's mind raced, images of the past few weeks flashing before his eyes. He remembered the coldness with which he'd treated her, the cruel words that had slipped from his lips, fueled by Jen's poison. He thought of the sleepless nights, the nightmares that had gripped him, and the aching void he'd felt every time he saw y/n’s hurt expression.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "For everything. For not believing you. For pushing you away."

Reluctantly, she pulled away, but not before wiping the tears from Bucky's cheeks and fighting the urge to place a tender kiss on his forehead. As she looked into his eyes, she could see the depth of his love and the pain he had endured for her sake. And in that moment, she knew that she had found her home in his arms. Bucky took her hands in his own, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her wounded wrists. "This will never happen again. Ever," he vowed, his voice filled with determination.

Moved by his words, y/n felt her heart flutter with emotion. She realized in that moment that she could never stay angry at him, no matter what had transpired between them. She understood now that they were both at fault, both victims of circumstance and misunderstanding.

With a surge of courage, she reached out and pulled Bucky into a kiss. Her lips met his in a slow, passionate embrace, pouring all of her love and forgiveness into the tender gesture. It was a moment of connection, of healing, of reaffirming their bond despite the trials they had faced.

The taste of Bucky's lips was like a soothing salve to her soul; it was intoxicating. It felt as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's arms. When they finally broke apart, Bucky whispered those three words that y/n had longed to hear, "I love you."

Her heart soared with joy, and she couldn't help but tease him, "Took you long enough." her teasing words met with a cheeky grin from Bucky.  "I love you too, Bucky" she blinked slowly. As he whispered softly under his breath, "Come here," he pulled her back into the kiss, their lips meeting in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, they could weather any storm.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I just needed to let this out lmao. It's been stuck in my head for several weeks. Thank you for spending your time reading this crap... honestly. Love you so much 🤍

[demonicbaby666]

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away. 

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening. 

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought. 

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog. 

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?" 

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question. 

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company." 

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's. 

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile. 

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment. 

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks. 

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route. 

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing. 

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh. 

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers. 

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch. 

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down. 

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble. 

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements. 

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?" 

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust. 

"That's a good girl." 

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance. 

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field. 

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb. 

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk. 

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her. 

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs. 

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth. 

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her. 

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did. 

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told. 

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt. 

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further. 

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked. 

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless. 

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests. 

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless. 

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about. 

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks. 

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers. 

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head. 

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn. 

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away. 

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown. 

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick. 

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her. 

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat. 

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you. 

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious. 

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears. 

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.  

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far. 

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?" 

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance. 

"Get up." 

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified. 

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet. 

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye. 

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest. 

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back. 

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was. 

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours. 

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?" 

"Emily, please," you begged. 

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing." 

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that. 

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk. 

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?" 

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you. 

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement. 

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly. 

"Did I say you could do that?" 

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle. 

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on."��

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities. 

"Beg," she instructed. 

And you heeded. 

"Please. I need you." 

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it. 

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it." 

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching. 

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm. 

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office. 

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second. 

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust. 

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand. 

"You'd better be quiet then." 

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be. 

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming. 

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily. 

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming." 

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk." 

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm. 

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore. 

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile. 

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door. 

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed." 

"But-" 

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs. 

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans. 

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[ashwhowrites]

Hi, I just want to say that I adore your writing. I want to ask if you could write a Billy x reader fic, where reader is part of hellfire and Billy develops a crush on the reader to the point where Max is irritated by how lovesick he is. Max tells him to ask her out as it’s obvious that he likes her but Billy makes up an excuse which causes Max to roll her eyes and tell him to grow up. Billy asks the reader out and it turns out that she likes him too and it turns out that they have a lot in common (for example their shared love of metalica). On the Monday following the date during lunch Jason starts picking the hellfire table and calls them all freaks, Billy gets protective over the reader and punches him telling him to stay the hell away from his girl. This probably isn’t the best idea but if you do choose to write it, I can’t wait to read it

I hope this is what you were hoping for and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting and your kind words<3

Not freaks

When Max first wanted to join Hellfire, Billy laughed his ass off. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. She didn't want to tell him or deal with him making fun of her, but she needed to be picked up. She'd seen Eddie drive, and she didn't want any part of that. He made Billy look like a safe driver.

Billy didn't agree, but he didn't have a choice. He knew Neil would lose his head if something happened to Max. He was smacking his steering wheel as he jammed out to Metallica. His speakers were loud and he was smoking his cigarette.

"Bye Max! See you tomorrow, tell your ride a great song" Billy threw out his cigarette, unlocking his door as he looked toward the passenger side. Max slid in as she waved off to a girl. A girl Billy never noticed before. He slightly leaned towards Max to see her but Max shoved him.

"Space! Jeez," Billy rolled his eyes at her comment and watched as the girl walked to her car. Even from the back of her head, she had Billy's attention, in more ways than one.

~~~

Billy couldn't recognize the girl and it was driving him insane, but he'd never ask Max. He didn't need her knowing his business or ruining his chance. He paid more attention in the hallways and his classes, searching around to see if he could spot her. But he never did.

"Hellfire ends at eight, so don't be late!" Max demanded, throwing on her backpack. Billy rolled his eyes and went to make a smart remark when that same girl walked up.

"Hey, Max! Are you ready for tonight? I sense Eddie is preparing to destroy all of us." Billy felt himself smiling as the girl giggled. His blue eyes checked her out, taking in her jeans and black sweater. Her black boots gave her a few inches as she ruffled Max's hair.

"Not like he can. We have the control." Max scoffed, she refused to ever seem weak around boys.

Billy coughed as loud as he could, knocking his knuckles on the car hood. Max rolled her eyes and turned around.

"Yes?" She hissed

Billy tried to signal what he wanted, nodding his head towards the girl. Max glared as she turned back.

"This is my asshole brother, Billy," Max announced with a bored tone. Crossing her arms as she smirked back at Billy.

"Y/N." She said, smiling politely as she nodded to him. Billy smirked and nodded back.

"You're the guy with the good music taste." She said, remembering the song that blasted way too loud through his speakers.

"And you're the pretty girl that recognized good taste." Billy smacked on his charming smile, loving how she smiled to the ground at the compliment.

"Gag," Max said, grabbing Y/N's hand and dragging her into the building.

~~~

"Tell me about Y/N" Billy demanded as he took the spot next to Max at the kitchen table. She looked up from her textbook with an annoyed sigh.

"Senior, hot, edgy, sadly your type, and even worse you are hers," Max said, shivering in fake disgust.

"But she's a hellfire freak?" Billy asked. "She doesn't seem to be freakish."

Max rolled her eyes, as usual. "Hellfire doesn't make you a freak, asshole. She's creative and is a damn good player. If anyone took the time to understand how DnD works, you'd realize it's not a freak show. Plus she'd kick your ass if you ever called her or any of us that."

"Is she single?" Billy asked, Max swore he almost looked nervous.

"If she had a boyfriend I would have said that, dingus." Max hissed, slamming her book shut. "I'd like to study in peace."

~~~

Billy had a sense of pride hearing Max say that he was Y/N's type. He honestly never cared to chase a girl, but he kept wondering about her.

During lunch he looked toward the freak hellfire table, seeing her smile. Billy couldn't help but stare, she was a magnet. She was single, but was she into any of them? Billy's eyes set on Eddie, a guy who had long hair like Billy did. A guy who wore leather like Billy did. Listened to cool bands like Billy did. If Billy was her type, would Eddie be too? He watched as she giggled and smacked Eddie's arm. His arm was thrown over her shoulder as he snacked on her fries. Billy took a mental note to ask Max about it.

~~~

"Dudeeeeee, you've asked about her every single day for the past week. Just ask the damn girl out." Max huffed, another night of Billy asking questions. She hated that he was a player and she had to deal with endless girls in her house. But somehow lovesick Billy was even worse.

"Her and I have barely had an interaction. She's not going to say yes to a stranger, Max!" He argued.

"You're not a stranger. I introduced you."

"In a horrible way might I add." Billy said as he glared down at her.

"Oh, whatever. I'm sure she's heard all about you around the halls." Max said, flipping through the TV. Her words made Billy a tad nervous. What if she was turned off by him because of his asshole and fuck boy act. Max looked over at him as he got silent. Her eyes looked over him. He almost looked nervous again.

"Look, you got a reputation and she might not be into that. But if you do like her and are serious about dating not just fucking. I think she'd hear you out." Max said softly, she stood up and patted his back as a sort of comfort. He smiled at the gesture and her words.

"What's her number?"

~~~

Max stood in Billy's door frame laughing as he raced around his room to find out what to wear. He tore apart his closet and dresser.

"Dude, it's a date. Grab jeans and a shirt that isn't unbuttoned all the way." Max advised.

Billy grabbed a classic T-shirt and his favorite jeans, pushing Max out of his room as he closed the door. He got dressed and covered himself in cologne. He hated that he was nervous.

~~~

"Billy I suck at this!" She groaned as she tossed the tiny ball. Billy laughed next to her, winning her skeeball challenge.

"Then why did you make it a competition?"

"Because I'm usually good at everything!" She huffed. Billy smiled at her pout and came behind her.

"Here, let me help." He tried not to melt when he smelled her sweet perfume. His hand covered hers as he swung her arm back.

"Follow this motion, then let the ball go." He instructed, he moved her arm back and forward. Her hand released the ball and went up the ramp. The ball finally made it in.

"YES!" She cheered, turning around as she hugged Billy. Her excitement was contagious as he spun her around.

Once she landed back on her feet, she realized how close their faces were. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned down. His soft lips pressed against hers.

~~~

Billy was still buzzing from the date. A smile on his face as he walked into school. Even Max could notice how happy he was.

He was reading through a car magazine in the cafeteria. Ignoring the commotion around him. Until he heard her voice.

He snapped his head up to see Jason at their table, running his mouth about the freaks and other names in the book. Billy took a deep breath and stood up. He walked over to the table as Y/N stood up and got in Jason's face.

"What are you gonna do, freak bitch?" Before Y/N could even speak, Billy grabbed Jason's shoulder and turned him around. His right fist connected with Jason's jaw, sending him straight to the floor.

"BILLY!" she gasped, grabbing his arm and moving him away. Teachers rushed to check on Jason.

"Talk about my girl or hellfire again, and I'll make sure you can never get back up." Billy hissed.

The hellfire table sat shocked that Billy Hargrove stood up for them. Y/N smiled at her boyfriend and Eddie gave him an approved nod.

Max smiled as she finally saw Billy in a new light, a happy Billy.

[randomshyperson]

Heal - Scarlet!Wanda x Vampire!Reader - Kinktober #08

Summary: By freeing an imprisoned immortal from the Darkhold Castle, the Scarlet Witch did not expect to gain a friend who would help her heal the woman she tried to bury in the temple's wreckage. In return, Wanda might help you face the demons from your past that were locked away with you.

Warnings: (+18), service!top reader, praising, intimate smut, blood-feeding, vampire and witchcraft lore, and a lot of plot, implied depression and self-harming tendencies, really soft smut with explicit consent, mutual pining, friends to lovers | Words: 9.671k

A/N-> My only vampire reference is TVD, so expect many similarities to the show’s lore. And I repeat again that there is a sinful lack of stories that deal with the status of wizarding royalty of which Wanda is part. Please, she literally has the title of Queen of Chaos, her family has inherited the magic of chaos for generations, we need to talk about this. I hope you guys like this one, this story ended up having more depth than I expected and it was quite fun to write it.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

After destroying a thousand-year-old castle and not getting out of the impact zone, Wanda definitely didn't expect comfort. In addition to the pain of recent events, from realizing that she had finally become a villain, and was closer to the people who had destroyed her life than to the friends she once lost, she also had to see the clear fear in the alternative versions of the children she missed. So she put an end to it all, more tired than anything, and waited for the pain to go away. The blackout from the impact put an end to it, of course, and just like years before when she turned to dust after losing the only person she still had left, she breathed a sigh of relief into the darkness.

But Wanda woke up. And to her complete surprise, comfort came in the softest sheets she had ever felt, perhaps even more comforting than the expensive cloth Tony Stark had once bought for the rooms in Avengers Tower. The bed she was lying on could easily have been mistaken for royalty, and Wanda barely had time to become alert before a slightly unfamiliar face entered her field of vision.

"You." She gasped in surprise, her voice a little hoarse. Now conscious, she was aware of the pain around her body, but she could also feel her magic doing the hard work and taking the sensation away. You smiled gently and, without leaving your sitting position on her bed, waited for her to adjust to the mattress. Wanda frowned. "But why?"

You sighed, shrugging slightly. Now sitting up, Wanda realized that your lap wasn't empty. A breakfast tray was waiting for her as if you were aware that she would wake up soon and had brought the food just in time. The item was leisurely placed next to her, but Wanda continued to look at you, waiting for an explanation as to why someone who had disappeared almost the second after the first meet, reappeared to save her from the wreckage of her mistakes.

"I know you're confused, but please eat. You've slept for days, miss." It's your comment, but the witch shakes her head.

"Don't worry about it. It's... nowhere near the longest I've gone without food." The quiet confession about the period of darkhold abuse makes you sigh sadly, and Wanda feels a curiosity rise in her chest. You don't know her, so why do you care? 

Your hands move to the toast you've prepared for her, and Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she finally notices the tray with your movements. Your breakfast choices are just right - delicious foods stare back at her. And you busy yourself with adding some jam to the toast that makes Wanda's mouth water.

"Forgive me for taking so long to find you, I was a bit overwhelmed upon returning after so long." You then declare, handing back the now-filled toast to one of the smaller plates. You push the item towards her as an invitation, but Wanda glares at you.

"Why did you bother coming back?"

Your eyes are kind in her direction. "I owe you my freedom."

Wanda chuckles short and incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous, I didn't even know what I was doing." She retorts immediately. "I saved you by accident, you don't owe me anything."

But you gesture to the food, and Wanda sighs in defeat, finally giving in. At the first bite, she feels the delicious jam on her tongue and sighs in satisfaction. It's amazing, she lets you know. You smile.

"It doesn't matter if our meeting was accidental, Wanda Maximoff." You state. "Your magic broke me out of my prison. If the idea of a debt doesn't please you, we can act as if upon rescuing you, I made us even."

Wanda hums with her mouth full, slightly distracted by the food. You look away, waiting for a moment, and she finishes chewing before speaking again.

"I didn't want to be rescued."

"I know."

She looks at you again, but you continue to stare straight ahead into the room. "Do you?"

You smile briefly. "Nobody who wants to live knocks down a castle on their head, miss."

The chuckle that escapes her is short, but it's the first sincere one in a long time. It's so dark, to joke about something so serious, yet she feels completely at ease doing it with you.

Wanda finishes another piece of toast before speaking again. "Do you remember the sorcerer who was with me before, when I freed you?" You meet her gaze, nodding in agreement. Wanda looks at you curiously. "He nearly shit his pants when he saw you running away from the temple. He tried to lecture me about it, and I dragged him out of there for it. But the point is... what did you do? He only told me your name. What was so terrible that your escape scared him so much?"

You sigh, getting up. Wanda imagines that she has offended you by asking and that you will leave without telling her the whole truth, and considers spying on your mind to find that out, but you just walk to the nearest drawers on the other side of the bedroom. When you return with an object in hand, Wanda wipes away the toast crumbs before accepting the item you hand her.

The old photograph makes her eyes widen. "Holy shit." She sighs impressed, getting a short laugh out of you.  Your picture wasn't a surprise, but the date from over three hundred years ago faded by the bottom. Wanda flipped the item to see the back, but your name there didn’t really explain how you were standing in front of her, as if no time had passed.

"Humans call us Vampires, but I've always liked the sound of Immortal better. Of course, the term vampire beats being called a demon or a bloodsucker." Wanda doesn't laugh at the joke, as she raises wide eyes in surprise at you. She continues to hold up the photograph, and you swallow. "I promise I won't try to harm you." Finally, she chuckles softly. You sigh in reassurance, even though the witch has just mocked your strength.

"I can't believe vampires exist." 

"Said the witch who traveled through the multiverse a few days ago." Wanda smiles, handing the photograph back to you. 

"Fair point." She murmurs. Restless, you wonder what you can do to improve her mood. She seems so sad.

Perhaps your stories could distract her. 

"I was imprisoned in Darkhold Castle a few centuries ago." You tell her, attracting her curiosity again. Your hands go into your pockets so that you can regain some ground over the full attention of such beautiful and mesmerizing irises. "There are other mystical authorities, apart from Kamar-Taj and its mages. In particular, a council of vampires. I disagreed with some traditions and was sentenced to imprisonment, but my capture was not quiet. Let's just say I earned that tomb you rescued me from, Miss." Wanda nodded in understanding, offering a small smile that ensured she wasn't judging you. It would be comical to do so, after everything that had led up to this moment. Adding to the count of her own crimes, she apparently unleashed an immortal mass murderer.

Wanda looks around, sighing softly. "I presume this place is yours."

You nod but look away from her. "Many of my properties were lost with my imprisonment. Taken back by the Council, or even stolen by other creatures. I'll deal with these usurpers later." The comment made Wanda bite the corner of her mouth. She'd never seen a vampire fight, and you seemed so sure of your own strength over anyone who stood up to you. It was attractive somehow. She pushed the thought away faster than it came. "Of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you need, even if I'm not around."

The statement makes Wanda chuckle in surprise, her cheeks slightly warm. "What? I can’t accept that. I will certainly not abuse hospitality-"

"Don't be ridiculous." You repeat her previous words with an easy smile, and the casual comment sounds different from your formal attitude so far that It's so charming that Wanda has to look away awkwardly, surprised by her own perceptions. "It's a pleasure to have you as a guest. And honestly, it's nice to have someone around after so long." The sincere confession makes her smile. Wanda understood loneliness well. You sigh. "There's enough room in this house. You can stay as long as you need."

Wanda nods. "How exactly did you get me here? And where is here exactly?"

"Northern Europe, but I'm not sure if the country's name remained the same as it was three centuries ago. And I didn't want to carry you so far from the castle, and I figured you didn't intend to return to Nepal and their Kamar Taj’s mages as well."

Wanda grimaces. "What do you mean with ‘carry me’?"

You chuckle slightly. "You were unconscious, Miss Maximoff. And buried under rubble when I found you. We don't have the same magical abilities,  so I can’t use the power of the mind to move objects or people. I picked you up, and brought you with me."

She needs to see this, and the invasion in your mind caught you off guard. Flashes of memories turn clear in your head, your figure pushing rocks out of the way until you find Wanda unconscious. You actually picked her up in your arms and started moving. At some point, you found a car, but good kilometers on the ice at high speed were walked.

Wanda leaves your mind with a sigh, and for the first time, you look upset.

"Please ask next time."

She's still coming to terms with the fact that you ran through the snow with her in your arms to apologize. "You walked half a continent for me?"

You shrug. "I ran, to be fair. Don't worry about that, it wasn't any trouble. My kind has enough strength and speed for a journey like that."

But the ease didn't detract from the significance of the attitude. Wanda could hardly remember the last time anyone had done anything for her - not even Vision, who was her partner, seemed to share any guilt when signing accords that wanted her in jail; And now a stranger was rescuing her at the end of the world just to bring her to safety, without expecting anything in return.

Her silence makes you clear your throat. "I'll give you some privacy. There's more food if you want it, and this is a suite, so the toilet is through that door. I've also taken the liberty of ordering clothes in your size while you’ve been asleep, they're all in the closet. The whole property can be explored, please feel free to do so. There’s a library and art rooms. And please, if you decide to leave, say farewell first."

Wanda smiles tenderly at your request, and you turn away. She finally realizes that you look very tidy, and calls out to you before you can leave the room.

"Are you going out?"

"Just for a few hours." You answer, frowning at the way her expression falls. "Is something wrong?"

Wanda sighs. "I just… don’t wanna be alone."

Despite the sympathy in your eyes, you hesitate. A hand on the doorframe. "Forgive me, miss, I promise I won't be long and that we can spend the rest of the day together." 

Wanda waves your concern away, starting to stand up. "Relax, I'll be fine, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your appointments. I'll explore the house while you're gone."

But despite her casual attitude, you call out to her with a certain seriousness that makes Wanda look at you again. There's something in your expression that makes it clear that you didn't buy Wanda's act at all, and that you can clearly see that she was being serious about her loneliness. Your eyes had a guilty aspect because you couldn't stay. 

You sigh, looking away as you explain: "I must feed myself, Miss Maximoff. Please don't think I'm avoiding your company."

She is slightly surprised by the confession and doesn't know exactly what to say about it. She decides to just nod, without the courage to question you further on the subject even though she's dying to know exactly in which way you're going to feed yourself.

And when you leave her alone, and she wanders around the huge rooms of that mansion, she can't help wondering where you are, if it's like in vampire stories, and you're in some alley cornering an unwary human, or if hunting animals is enough. She becomes so absorbed in her own doubts that when you return, she hasn't even finished seeing the whole place.

"Having fun?" Your question startles her slightly. She smiles, turning her attention away from the art paintings in the room and meeting your gaze again.

"You move silently."

"A talent we share."

Wanda chuckles and waits for you to approach her completely. Side by side, she is the first to speak.

"Everything here is very beautiful." She says softly. "And I may not be centuries old, but I'm no fool. It sounds too good to be true. Be honest, Y/N. What do you hope to get from me?"

You frown, taking one hand out of your pocket to gesture a little. "You have a suspicious nature, Miss Maximoff."

She snorts softly." Y/N..."

But you smile, and Wanda gasps softly because your hand moves to her face, a gentle touch to move a strand of hair out of the way of her eyes. "Not everyone wants to take something from you, Miss. Some people just want to give." Wanda ignores the intensity of your gaze, the quickening of her heartbeat, and raises her hand to grab your wrist and interrupt your intention to stroke her cheek straight away. Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion in your direction, although your smile never falters. "I could just force you to talk."

"There's no need for that, we can talk over dinner."

She hesitates, aware of the heat on her cheeks. You seem to have a personal victory and Wanda lets go of your hand immediately. 

"Wipe that smile off your face, it's not... that kind of dinner. We don't even know each other." She mutters embarrassedly. You return to your previous position, relaxed with your hands in the pockets of your dress pants and Wanda crosses her arms annoyed at the way her stupid brain keeps finding you more attractive every time she looks at you. 

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, miss." You retort humorously. "It's a strictly professional dinner."

She rolls her eyes, turning away to hide her smile from you.

"Just introduce me to the rest of the house."

"It's funny, all witches are always bossy." You comment, letting her gently pat your shoulder even though you could easily escape the gesture if you wanted to.

-&-

"I didn't know vampires cooked."

You chuckle, without taking your eyes off the knife cutting the vegetables. "Have you met many vampires?"

Wanda bites back a smile, rolling her eyes softly. "No, you're the first." She says, watching from the counter stool as you masterfully prepare dinner. "But I thought you guys didn't need to eat."

"We don't, not food at least." You retort gently, even though the implication makes Wanda's eyes sparkle with curiosity. You, despite being busy preparing the meal, notice the slight excitement and give a soft laugh. "If wished, my body can imitate all the biological functions it had before I died. This includes food." To illustrate, you take one of the cut pieces of carrot into your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you finish chopping the vegetables. Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, gathering the courage to ask you what she wishes to know.

When you pour the cut vegetables into a pot, she clears her throat. "Would it be insensitive if I asked how it happened?"

"Very." You smile back. Wanda sighs slightly, feeling like a little child trying to be liked. 

Please, please, notice me and talk to me.

The fire is lit, you wash off the excess vegetable stock and wipe your hands on a tea towel. You speak again.

"It's 2024, which means that in the winter it will be 320 years since my transformation." You begin a little nostalgically, your hands resting on the counter behind you. "Twenty was the age at which I died."

Wanda frowns. "You were so young."

"Yes, I was." You agree with a sad smile. "I used to work here, right in this mansion." Wanda adjusts herself, curiosity taking over completely. "I was raised by this family all my life, and when I fell ill, they decided there was no longer any place for me here."

The witch swallows dryly but doesn't interrupt your story. You look down, bringing your hands in front of your stomach to turn the larger ring you're wearing between your fingers.

"Sick servants would be sent away, so as not to spread the disease to the rest of the house. I died on the road."

Wanda frowns slightly. "Who bit you?"

"Bit me?" You retort in confusion. 

She chuckles awkwardly. "Yes, that's how it works, isn't it? Vampires bite humans and turn them."

It's your turn to laugh, a little impressed. "What? No, by the gods! Imagine how many of us there would be out there if every time a vampire fed, he turned someone? No, no, it's a bit more complicated." You comment casually. "You see, there's an immortality spell, created by the same author of the book that was with you when we met. Original vampires are made by ancient magic, and these can have bloodlines. Weaker vampires are transformed by their blood. And others can be created, even weaker by their descendants. The trick is to die with magical blood in your system so that your soul will be trapped by the magic and will not leave your body. It is then reanimated a few hours after we die. To complete the transformation, we must feed."

She absorbs your words for a moment. Until she finally asks: "Who transformed you?"

You lick your lips, shifting your eyes to the pot as if to confirm the cooking time, before turning away from the counter. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

She follows you around the mansion, way past the kitchen to another level. The entrance hall extends into a long corridor with many old paintings. Finally silver doors at the end.

"This is the main suite of the mansion." You clarify, fiddling with a bunch of keys kept in your pocket until now. Apparently, the only locked room was that one. "It's been adapted, moved from the upper floor to here on the lower level since, at the end of her life, the owner couldn't take the stairs."

Once unlocked, you push the doors open with both hands, exposing the immense royal suite inside. Wanda thinks it looks a lot like fantasy books and is busy admiring the decorations when she comes across a painting on the wall that knocks the air out of her lungs.

"What...?" She approached with uncertain steps until she was touching the painting with her fingers, groping for the drawing of a face that could easily be mistaken for her own. "How is that possible?" She demanded to know, turning to you.

You were still standing in the doorway, your hands in your pockets. "This is your ancestor."

"And why the hell does she have my face?"

"Heritage?" You retort good-humoredly, but Wanda snorts incredulously, advancing towards you angrily. You quickly raise your hands in surrender, a nervous laugh escaping as you see the fury in her eyes. “I’m joking, dear lord! I didn't mean to upset you. Let me tell you the whole story!."

"It better be a very good one." She retorts, watching you intently as if expecting a kidnap attempt.

You sigh, nodding before turning your face to the photo. "Her name was Elizabeth. She's gone if that's not obvious. This painting was done over four centuries years ago when your family was still known as the Maksymovs. They lived well, your ancestors, as you can see from the amount of gold in this manor. But sorcery and witchcraft were never very well-liked anywhere, and just like the rest of us, your family was hunted down." You say, stepping aside to open the curtains and light up the room. Still, on your back, you continued to talk. "I was just a little girl when Lady Maksymov took me in, Elizabeth’s mother. I cleaned and cooked, and I was lucky enough to be allowed inside the mansion. To share the room with the family. All due respect to their memories, but my Lady was not a decent person. She was cruel and harsh and preferred to die on the mountain of money than give a little to the children she watched depart for this place. I stayed here because I had no other choice in life, and when the neighbors began to question what she was doing in the basement, she was taken away just like her children.  And unlike her mother or any of her siblings, Elizabeth was not a very talented witch. Her magic was dormant. That poor woman, always so sad under the cruelties shouted at her by her relatives. She could never master chaos but it got better when she gave in to the darkhold's allure. Unfortunately for the servants, her gentle personality was gone once her magic control was improved. I remember her dark fingers chastising me every time I failed to fold the sheets correctly."

Wanda swallowed at the anger hidden. Your posture was enough for her to believe your words.

“Why did she turn you?”

You smile sadly. "I was just a means to an end." You reply. "Elizabeth was what they called a Siphoner. Although descended from a powerful witch lineage, she couldn't generate her own magic. She could only steal it from elsewhere, either from a magic book or from a vampire." 

Wanda sighs as she understands, and you chuckle in upset. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You weren't even close to existing back then."

She moves closer. "Still, on behalf of my family, I'm sorry." The witch says as gently as she can. "I can hardly imagine how painful that probably was."

You shrug, trying to be casual. "That was a long time ago, Miss Maximoff." You mumble before sighing. "And it didn't work out the way she wanted either. Elizabeth didn't intend to use me as her magical reservoir for so long. She wanted me to transform her. Make her a heretic, a vampire-witch hybrid so that she could steal magic from her own nature. And like a good servant, I did just that."

Wanda could feel the force of your painful memories with her telekinesis, flashes of vivid images in your mind begging to be relieved. A personal torture. 

"Let me guess, that was the rule you broke that put you in that tomb."

You lower your head, looking very upset all of a sudden. "No, Miss Maximoff. I was loyal until I wasn't anymore." Wanda frowns in confusion, but you sigh and stare at your own reflection in the window. "The abuse of the Darkhold destroyed Lady Elizabeth. Not even the spell of immortality could heal her, remove the rot from her soul. We traveled the world, searching for potions and creatures and anything we could find to help her, but I knew that the slaughter she was doing in the name of her own health had to be stopped. When our last trip ended, I told her I wouldn't help her anymore."

Wanda can see clearly now; the wrathful recollections of a witchy lady with an almost demonic appearance. The hold of the Darkhold on Elizabeth's soul. How you're only trying to defend yourself when you strike back.

You sniffle, turning your face away, and Wanda blocks your memories from her mind immediately.

"No greater dishonor than ingratitude." You mutter. "I shouldn't have turned my back on Elizabeth. She died alone in this empty mansion, taken by her illness. I returned to a rotten land wracked by dark magic. I restored every stone and raised the mansion to its original state. I lived as a vampire for a decade before I was captured. Elizabeth, in her last vengeful act, left a letter denouncing all her family's crimes to the magical authorities of the time. A lineage who survived the witch-hunts, chased by their own kind like animals. I wore the same coat of arms and slept in the family mansion, so they didn't care that my surname wasn't the same. But I wasn't a witch to die, and the darkhold refused to show the executors exactly how to kill me. The solution was a prison."

You're surprised that Wanda reaches for your hand, but you don't pull away. She also gives you a small smile.

"Three hundred years is too long to punish someone who had no choice." She says, the gesture of her thumb caressing your palm making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Definitely too long without touching someone was messing with your head. Little did you know, Wanda was going through something quite similar. Starved for physical touch. "Is that why you're being so generous? Do you think you owe this family a debt?" You swallow, nodding, and Wanda sighs. " Sweetheart..."

"Please let me serve you." Your tone is almost desperate, Wanda shakes her head. "Please-"

"This isn't the 1700s, Y/N. I won't be your lady." She assures you, her grip tighter. "You're a person, not a property."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for Elizabeth-"

"She was cruel and selfish, and she used you to your last breath. And beyond!" Wanda interrupts, not losing her composure when you huff impatiently and pull your hand away. "You can grumble all you want. I'm not going to honor the memory of some slave owner, family or not. You're free to go."

"But I don't want to leave, Wanda." You snap, almost pleading. "This is my home. Serving your family has always been... my purpose. Turning my back on it made me lose everything. And then you saved me, and for a second, I thought I could see Elizabeth again. I ran to this place, and I realized how much time had actually gone by." You sniffle, your hands going to Wanda's shoulders. "Please. Caring is the only thing I know how to do right."

Wanda sighs, her hands finding your wrists. "This isn't caring, Y/N, this is servitude. I would never ask this of you." Your expression falls as if you're being rejected. Wanda stops your hands from moving away. "But I could use a friend."

Your face lights up, and Wanda smiles too because she thinks you look so beautiful now. "Oh, that... is really very sweet. I'd be honored."

The witch chuckles. "You're adorable. Come, our lunch should be ready soon." She doesn't mention that you two walk into the kitchen hand in hand, and you don't mind, so you don't say anything either.

-&-

"I can't believe you don't know what McDonald's is."

"And I can't believe you've never been to the Opera, but here we are."

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief at your response. You're sitting on the living room floor, or rather on cushions on the carpet because you refused to sit so informally and she was still working on getting you to relax into the casual way of living life in that century. 

Weeks into a roommate routine, your activities consisted of having meals together and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. You'd spent 300 years imprisoned, and Wanda had a multitude of things to introduce you to, while you'd been raised by the ancient witch family of the ancestors of a woman who knew little about her origins. You had as much to tell as she did.

Most days when you two would leave the Mansion, you would experience things that you had never experienced before. Restaurants, food trucks, and even the invention of cars or electricity. The Mansion needed to be restored too, but Wanda was happy to know that it hadn't been abandoned.

It was magically hidden, and she had distant cousins from very old marriages in her distant line. It was one of the best pieces of news she'd ever received - to know that she wasn't the only Maximoff left.

The Manor had been cared for over the centuries by escape witches, some of whom, like Elizabeth, had their powers dormant and lived normal lives under that roof. Until the place was finally inherited by her great-aunt, Tatiana, who was living in New Orleans, and Wanda would visit once the work on the mansion was finished.

She had no idea where you got the money for a whole restoration team, and you laughed when she asked, offering as an answer only the information that vampires can persuade people.

That's how you ended up on the living room floor, finishing gathering old belongings that needed to be protected from the paint restoration and set-up of that chamber.

"It's nice that some things have been preserved so well." She comments, stealing a quick glance at your figure distracted by sorting letters. You look good in this century's clothes that Wanda helped you pick out. The barely buttoned plaid shirt makes Wanda hold her breath every time she catches herself letting her gaze fall to your collarbone. 

"Rich families often treasure stuff." You retort with an easy smile. You stack a few letters before opening the next box of items and gasp slightly when you find something very valuable inside. "Look, I think you'll want to keep this."

The small item is placed in her palm: A gold button with an "M" engraved on it. The family crest. Wanda doesn't know why, but it makes her eyes water, and she gives you a tearful smile as she thanks you.

But despite this balanced relationship and pleasant routine, there was still the elephant in the room.

Every evening, you went out to feed yourself. For almost two months, Wanda didn't ask any questions. Even though she was dying to know exactly how, or even who.

But she didn't want to be invasive or even sound like someone obsessed with your fangs.

She would wait for some casual moment to bring up the subject. Perhaps at the next dinner party, with a joke, and then she would ask if you could show her how it was done.

Luckily for her, another witch was even more interested in the story.

Tatiana was an expert enchantress. She lived in an apartment in the heart of New Orleans and had a very busy pub, and to no surprise, frequented mainly by mystical beings. It was Wanda's first time in a place of that kind.

She was so excited to meet another member of her family that she almost forgot her last worries. It was her aunt, in between many colorful drinks after an afternoon of introduction, who brought up the subject again.

"So tell me, sweetie, all this work to restore the Maximoff household. It must be exhausting even for a vampire." Tatiana began with a smile. Her curly hair fell in waves down her back, and for the third time that night, Wanda noticed that green eyes were probably the only physical feature that most of the Maximoff women shared. Her aunt has a dangerous smirk on her lips as she looks in your direction, and Wanda swallows dryly as she realizes that it's the flirtatious kind. "We allow feeding in these parts."

You're taken aback. You chuckle awkwardly, aware of the two witches' attention in your direction. The crowded bar seems to get even smaller.

"I'm fine, Tatiana, don't worry." Wanda thinks you're lying. You can never maintain eye contact when you do, and she also often finds it charming how a vampire can be so bad at telling lies. "I had some blood before I got here-"

"By Morgana, that was several hours ago!" Tatiana cuts in, gesturing excitedly to the waiters. She was very happy to meet Wanda too and had been drinking since early morning in celebration. "You know, I used to date a vampire back in the last century. He had a restricted diet of animals and always looked pale and hungry. Are you one of those vegetarian vampires too?"

The question is rhetorical, she doesn't even hear your confused mutter "I don't think vegetarianism works like that". She's busy with the waitress, whose irises redden as soon as Tatiana speaks to her. The girl is younger than everyone else there and is clearly bewitched.

"There you go, dear, you can have a taste." Offers the woman, to which you choke in surprise.

"What? H-here? But..."

"Now, don't you act like a good Samaritan, Miss L/N." Tatiana retorts in a provocative tone, resting her chin on one hand. "I know what you got up to before you were imprisoned. Feeding off a waitress is nothing."

You're immediately crestfallen, your face flushing with shame. Wanda looks at her aunt with irritation.

"Don't talk to her like that." The younger witch says sternly. "'She's already received enough of a punishment.

Tatiana chuckles wickedly, tilting her head gently. A very familiar gesture indeed. "Let's get a few things clear, Wanda. The only reason I didn't rip that usurper vampire's head off the moment she set foot in my town was because she brought my niece back to me. The fighting separated our families, I never knew I had nephews. Do you think you would have joined that group of dressed-up Americans if I'd known you were a genuine Maximoff? No, dear, I would have raised you. Restored our coven, taught you magic, as it should have been. As it would have been if this ungrateful little blood-sucker had fulfilled the role she was given. Every spell has a price, and she didn't pay for this one she so boldly displayed for a decade of fortune-raising."

"I regret it very deeply, miss-"

"No, you don't apologize for any of this." Wanda interrupts you with a gentle squeeze on your wrist under the table. With a serious expression, she faces her aunt. "Let's actually get things straight, Auntie. You don't talk to her like that. Ever. You're not going to use something that happened three centuries ago against someone who has spent all this time imprisoned in a tomb, paying for crimes she didn't commit alone. It seems that witches, especially from this family, have a habit of evading accountability. I know that well." Tatiana gives a little smile, clearly aware of Westview, or what came after. Wanda doesn't hesitate. "She's my friend. And she's been through enough. All she's done since she came back is look after me, and I'm not going to accept this kind of treatment from anyone, not even my blood. And considering history, especially my blood."

Without contradicting, Tatiana nods in understanding, busying herself with lighting one of the cigarettes on the corner of the table. The colorful smoke wafted upwards as she finished a long drag.

"As you please, Scarlet Witch." The elder woman finally replies, and you swallow dryly, stealing a glance at Wanda to see if she might lose her temper at the slight challenge in her aunt's tone.

Damn, you'd forgotten how the Maximoffs had a rather dangerously weak ego to offend, especially if challenged.

But luckily for you, Wanda forced a smile, and the tension at the table eased. Tatiana dismissed the waiter with a nod and went back to talking about business in the city as if nothing had happened.

For the rest of the evening, Wanda drew patterns on the palm of your hand under the table.

-&-

Around midnight, when the desserts were finished but the bar seemed livelier than ever, you felt really hungry.

The witches were engaged in animated conversation about the times in Sokovia, how Tatiana missed the opportunity to find out about the Maximoffs after the surname grew more common around the country for a few years before disappearing again, and you used the opportunity to escape for a few moments.

A quick snack, just to satisfy your hunger. After all, you always kept yourself full around Wanda; you'd never forgive yourself if you lost control around her.

You make your way through the crowded bar, taking one last look at the back table before making your way to the exit. You're almost at the door when someone purposely bumps into you.

"Hey, better watch where you're going." Warned the corpulent fellow; he was at least ten centimeters taller and had a strong distinctive smell that caused you an instant anxiety. 

Wolf scent.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." You mumble, ready to bypass him, but he steps in your way again. 

"We don't like strangers around here." He informs you with a small smile, showing off his canine fangs. "You're lucky we have our orders, miss."

You sigh slightly. "Who are you again?"

"The name's Victor Creed, but everyone calls me Sabertooth. You know, because of these little beauties here." He points to his fangs with conviction. "They grow much bigger during the transformation. I once ripped the head of one of your kind with them." The story is clearly told to intimidate you, but your unimpressed expression makes the man clear his throat. "Don't go wandering around, Tatiana can't protect you on the outside."

You force a smile. "I can take care of myself, wolf, don't worry." You move around him to finally leave, but even with his back turned, Sabertooth laughs.

"Alright then, go for a walk while I introduce myself to your little witch. Do you know if the Scarlet Witch is looking for better watchdogs? If she's as stuck-up as the rest of the family, maybe I'll write to Kamar Taj about where she's been hiding."

The thing is, maybe you've spent too much time with the Maximoffs all your life. And your temper is just as bad as theirs.

Victor has barely finished his teasing, and you've already grabbed him by the arm, mashing him into the ground like a lump of flour. The commotion immediately attracts the attention of everyone around, but until the crowd fully identifies what's going on, Victor has already used his wolf-like speed to get to his feet and advance on you.

He's so confident about his own strength that it takes him a whole moment to realize that your fist has already gone through his chest.

"Give me one good reason not to spread your guts on this floor, Mr. Creed." You say with an unwavering expression, your hand clenched around his barely beating heart.

Victor chokes on his own blood, his muscular hands try to push your shoulders back, but you don't move an inch. He grunts in pain.

"I-I take it back." He gasps, but you squeeze a little harder.

"That's not a reason."

The man breaks down in a sob. "P-please. I'm begging you. I wasn't thinking-"

It would be so easy, just to kill him. Rip the heart out of that arrogant wolf and let him drop. You never forgot the feeling, the predatory hunger for blood and violence burning in your veins. Nor Elizabeth's disappointed look every time you ended up covered in blood and it didn't do any good.

Letting go of the heart, and pulling your hand out, you saw Victor's wound heal immediately. A full moon must have been just around the corner for a wolf to heal so quickly.

His release drew your attention to the rest of the pub. All those people, watching the scene with mixed expressions of horror and disbelief on their faces. Some clearly recognized you, others seemed surprised to witness a werewolf of that size being beaten so easily.

Vitor's blood stained the blouse Wanda gifted you, and you swallowed down the urge to vomit.

While you were trying to recover from the interaction, a duo cut through the crowd, and Tatiana's short giggle made you wince.

"Keep her in line, Wanda. We don't make a mess this close to humans in this neighborhood." The witch warns but Wanda is staring at you in complete mesmerization. You shake your wrist gently, letting the excess blood drip onto the floor before you start to move.

The adrenaline of the confrontation has starved you.

-&-

You barely enter the first alley before Wanda catches up with you.

"Where are you going?"

But you don't answer the question, you just keep walking and retort: "Go back inside, I won't be long."

For a moment, you think she'll obey, but how foolish of you. Wanda was probably the most stubborn Maximoff you've ever met.

She almost gives you a heart attack when she appears in your path, making you jump backward.

"What the hell...?"

"You're shutting me out." She declares, frustrated. You swallow dry, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just going for a walk to clear my head. See you at the apartment-"

"Taking a walk is what you're calling it now? I'm not an idiot, I know you're going to feed." Wanda interrupted annoyed, getting in your way and stopping you from fleeing. "Why do you keep trying to hide this part of yourself? I don't care that you're a vampire."

"Wanda, please, just move."

"No."

"Wanda."

She crosses her arms. "I wanna watch." 

You choke, chuckling nervously. "Excuse me?" 

But she doesn't lose her cool, nodding. "I want to watch you feed on someone."

Wanda imagined some reactions to the suggestion: anger, indignation, mockery. She didn't think you'd turn so clumsy, with rosy cheeks and unable to look her in the eye.

"You're a very odd individual." You mumble shyly, and she has to giggle confusedly, losing her serious pose to adjust the collar of your blouse. 

"Pleaseee." She stretches out the word, liking the way a smile breaks across your lips or especially the way you stare at her mouth when she talks like that. "I'll behave. I'll just stay put and watch. I've never seen it happen before. Please, honey? Just once."

You sigh in defeat, and Wanda taps her hands before jumping on your neck, and hugging you excitedly. It's a very difficult struggle to keep your fangs away with her so close.

It doesn't even last half a minute, but it feels like an eternity because you want to feed and everything always moves slower if the vampire focuses on hunger. 

"It's not going to be anything special, I don't want to cause a scene in your aunt's neighborhood." You let her know, thinking you need to talk a bit to push the dizziness away.

Wanda smiles excitedly. "Anything will be great, darling. Come on, I'll be right behind you."

It's easy to find prey in a place like New Orleans. You end up deciding on a restaurant waiter, isolated in one of the alleys. He's a young adult, distracted by chores, and you almost give up because of the smell of garbage so close by. But it's a very good isolated opportunity to waste like this.

Your fangs are already out when there's a noise behind you.

Wanda has bumped into something, loud enough to attract the boy's attention, who is startled by the two figures in the alley. One glimpse of your vampiric appearance and he's stumbling frightened away before starting to run.

You sigh incredulously, and Wanda appears in your field of vision.

"Sorry, it was..." She falls silent, surprised that you haven't gathered your usual looks and absorbing every detail of your face now. From the fangs to the completely darkened eye sclera. When she speaks, her voice is much huskier. "An accident."

"It's okay, it actually tastes better when they're scared." You shrug. "The adrenaline and fear accelerates the heart which pumps fresh blood throughout the body. That's why so many vampires prefer to hunt at night. People are more afraid of the dark than they think."

Wanda chuckles, looking at you in a way that makes you forget about the boy's footsteps becoming too distant to distinguish from the other sounds of the city.

"You're kind of a vampire nerd." 

"I don't know what that word means." You give a confused laugh and Wanda moves closer.

"It means I think you're really cute." She retorts, making you gulp dryly. Her hands find your shoulders, and Wanda gets close enough for you to count her freckles. "And I'm dying to know how these little ones feel, darling. Do they hurt?”

She's too close for you to focus, but you make an effort. "Hm, just a little, when they come out. They usually only bother me when I'm really hungry."

Wanda's fists cross together behind your head, and she's definitely too close for you to think about anything other than her.

"And how hungry are you now?"

"Very, Miss Maximoff." You confess hoarsely. Wanda smiles mischievously, tilting her neck in your direction.

"Well, I think you should have a little taste."

"God, Wanda." Your eyes close on instinct, your face falling forward so that you sink into the gap in her collarbone. Wanda shudders, as affected as you are. Her hands-free themselves so that she can stroke your arm, as a reassurance that everything is all right, and also caress your hair because apparently everything so far hasn't been maddening enough for her.

Every cell of your spirit begs you to sink your fangs into the warm skin in front of you, to drink every drop until Wanda faints against you, but you fight nature itself with her help. Her soft sighs in your ear, assuring you that she trusts you.

"It'll only be a little bit, I promise." You assure her, licking the spot gently and drawing a deep sigh from the other girl. It's the sound you focus on before you take the first bite.

Wanda tenses at the slightest hint of pain, but another sensation takes over elsewhere. Her cheeks burn with the betrayal of her own body, and she finds herself unable to care about the mild pain while she's throbbing between her legs.

Her nails dig into your biceps, and she starts to squirm under you, surrendering to the sensation of your bodies so close together. You hum in satisfaction at the soothing of your hunger, and Wanda drops her hand to your waist.

"Enough, baby." She whispers the request, her nails scratching the hair on the back of your neck. "I'm starting to get dizzy."

You hold on a little tighter, and Wanda softens against your body. Her heart is pounding, and she is aware of her pathetic underwear situation. Your body heaved forward, and Wanda didn't have the strength to resist any pull. She feels her back hit the wall of the alley, and whimpers at the feel of your leg pressed between hers.

She doesn't think she has ever been so at someone's mercy as she is now. She just wants to tell you to help her relieve the pressure between her legs, but every time she tries to call you, what leaves her lips are needy moans.

And you kept feeding and the surroundings began to darken. Wanda only realized that she'd been grinding herself on your thigh all this time because her climax approached at high speed, and falling off the edge brought a momentary recovery of consciousness.

"Oh, God, detka!" She meows, spilling herself on your thigh. Her body spasms softly, and you tense up, stopping your feeding immediately. Wanda falls limp in your arms, trying to fuck herself stupidly even after the orgasm she's just achieved. Your arms are the only support keeping her upright. "Do that again."

You shake your head, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "No, I took more than I should have." You retort softly, and Wanda has to blink a few times to realize that your appearance has returned to normal. "What a terrible idea that was, Wanda. So dangerous… I was starving."

She gives you a dreamy little smile. "How do I taste?"

"The best I've ever had." You assure her before adjusting her to hold her in your arms just in time for Wanda to lose consciousness.

She dreams of the same feeling of being carried but in a place much colder than New Orleans.

-&-

She wakes up just in time to see you putting her to bed, all the way to the borrowed room in her aunt's empty apartment.

Wanda grabs your wrist before you can pull away after putting the covers over her.

"Hey." Your voice and gaze are so sweet that she almost forgets everything that has happened so far. But Wanda actually remembers very well, and the lingering sensation of your body against hers makes her shiver. 

"Hey... sorry for blacking out on you." She murmurs, her free hand coming up to your face. You bite your lip, still hovering over her body and uncertain what you should do next. Should you pull away? Lean in and kiss Wanda like you've been dreaming of doing for weeks? She seems to be able to see all the hesitation in your eyes, and offers a reassuring smile, her hand caressing your cheek. "What's wrong?"

Wanda is definitely teasing you, but you don't mind, smiling too as you steady your hands next to her body on the mattress, face to face, the two of you waiting for the other to make a move first until the tension is almost unbearable. But you also remember what brought you there, and let out a small sigh.

"You shouldn't have baited me like that, Wanda. It's dangerous, I could have... lost control."

Her expression becomes almost mischievous, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "I've survived much worse, darling."

You sigh in frustration. "Wanda..."

"It's the truth." She chuckles even though you move away to sit down properly. Wanda also mimics the gesture, looking for your hand on the bed so that you stop grimacing and look at her. "Hey, come on, don't be upset."

"I'm not."

"Then why the pout?" She leans in, kissing your cheek and you snort away, unable to stay angry with this adorably charming witch. "You have to trust me, sweetheart." She whispers, kissing your jaw. You sigh, squeezing her hand gently.

"I trust you with my life, Wanda." You let her know in the same tone, intertwining your fingers in her lap. Wanda smiles against your skin, chaste kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone. "I'm just scared... that one day, I'll lose control and hurt you. I'd never forgive myself."

She pulls away a little to look you in the eye. "I meant it what I said before." Starts the witch. "I've been through much worse. You weren't there to see... what I did to reach that little girl. You don't have to worry about hurting me, because it doesn't matter, I'll always heal." With your hesitation, she pulls further away to push the collar of her shirt aside and let you see the place where you fed on her a few minutes ago. "Look, it's gone. You have to trust me, darling. I know that the idea of anyone being stronger than an original is hard for you to accept, but believe me, I'll be fine. I'll always be fine, even if you are starving and out of your mind."

You grimace, adjusting yourself so that you can hold her by the waist and place her on your lap. "Just because you're going to heal doesn't mean I can hurt you. You deserve kindness, Wanda. I can give you my best." Your mouth meets hers, it's not a hungry kiss but it's a hot one and it takes Wanda out of her orbit. It's been a while since the last time, and well, it's never really been like this. She struggles a little to find her rhythm, for a short moment just panting against your experienced tongue, until she finally responds in an equally passionate way that makes you sigh and press your body to hers. 

Wanda likes the sound. Wanda likes you.

"Can I take off your shirt?" Your request comes between one kiss and another, she hardly answers because her mind is clouded with arousal, and if she could be honest, she would have been out of her clothes a long time ago. 

"Yes, please." She gasps back, anxious hands tracing your back. Wanda is restless under your touch, shy about your gaze once the clothes come off. But you do everything with an unbearable slowness that leaves her squeezing her thighs together in search of relief. 

She had sex before - For the first time in a war-torn adolescence, an experience that was forgettable and almost regretted. And then with a machine man who could pretend but never had the biological need to do so. 

This moment right now was like no other, being with someone who worshipped her body, who was as breathless as she was, who reacted to her touch and was practically at her mercy when she touched the right spot.

And Wanda finds that she loves it. Having you touch her and touch you back, and feeling your fangs scratch her skin every time she thrusts her hips into yours.

Pinned against the bed, naked as you are, your legs entwined together like your bodies. Sighs of pleasure mingle with the dance of your hips, and Wanda digs her nails into your back as your fangs press into her collarbone. 

You drink less than last time, but her legs still tingle. Or maybe it's the orgasm hitting her hard.

This is different from the first - the whole bed vibrates with the wave of magic that escapes the witch with her back arched. You hold Wanda, even though you're also shaking with the force of your own climax. She initiates the next kiss this time, moaning into your tongue as she spins your bodies around with ease. Your hands entwine together at the top of your head, but Wanda lets go, lowering herself and getting a confused sigh from you.

"What are you up to, little witch?"

Then it occurs to her with your expression that you are four centuries old and have spent much of this time as a prisoner and that perhaps you haven't been so confident because Wanda is your first lover.

She looks back up, sitting on your hips, breathing out of rhythm but now with a new excitement shining in her eyes.

"Babe, be honest... have you ever been with a woman before?"

Your face gains a deep color, and you turn your gaze away. Wanda falls hard, even if it doesn't occur to her yet.

She giggles softly and you're even more embarrassed, but she doesn't let you move away, her firm legs holding you in place.

"Don't make fun of me." You mutter, and Wanda snorts softly.

"Never." She assures you, even though she already has a new dozen antics memorized. Her mouth kisses your jaw and goes down like her body. The color in your cheeks is for another reason soon. "I love being your first. I want to make you feel good."

You hesitate to hold her when she's stimulating you, worried about losing control of your own strength. The sheets are destroyed when Wanda flicks her tongue over your breasts, smiling with delight at the sight of you squirming.

She goes lower and you gasp for air. "What... are you doing?" You ask mortified. It's not the 1700s anymore, you have to remember. Female pleasure is, well, taken into account. Wanda bites the inside of your thighs, watching the muscles twitch for a moment.

"You'll love it, I promise." It's the only thing she says before diving in, her hot mouth pulling all the air from your lungs. It's the most wonderful thing you've ever felt. Wanda's tongue works on your most intimate part, teasing your entrance before she starts to eat you out hungrily. You grip the headboard, your eyes closed tightly. Wanda holds your legs open, and the knot in your stomach starts to become impossible to contain. 

The witch seems to like it too. She moans for your taste on her tongue, and the new vibration pushes you over the edge. Wanda holds your spasming body without difficulty, you think she uses magic for that. And still calming down, it takes you a whole moment to stop seeing stars.

Wanda licks up every drop of your pleasure, moaning softly before meeting your gaze again. You can't hold it, and end up covering your reddened face with your arm while ignoring the smug giggle of the witch who begins to climb your body again.

"Don't be shy... you look so pretty when you moan my name." She praises you provocatively, and you can't help but smile, feeling completely relaxed. Wanda waits for you to look at her again, her arms resting on your shoulder so that she can look at you closely. "Hi."

Your hand finds her cheek. " Hi, yourself." She leans into your touch, her smile filling your chest with warm happiness. Wanda sighs.

"Can we stay like this? Just for a moment." She asks quietly, and something in her gaze tells her that the question isn't just for today. Wanda wants to know if you can be with her.

You would. Forever if she wished. "Of course, little witch. For as long as you want."

[ddejavvu]

hi! I have a request for Criminal Minds…

It’s Dom!Spencer x fem or afab reader where they’re fucking and reader is sooooo gone that she’s not even catching Spencer’s degradations and praises anymore and just says stuff like ,,you’re so pretty,, or sucks his fingers without a single CARE in the world.

IM GOING TO HELL IM SORRY 😭 also, if you happen to do this, can I be “🏹” anon? apologies if you don’t do emoji anons, ignore this if you don’t. Thanks anyway! Love your writing I’m your biggest fan <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

warning for ooc spence: i get you dom!spencer fans and this one's for you <3 but the man had to ashamedly whisper the word 'bitch' while reading it off of evidence from a crime scene so i don't think this one is really in character 💔💔💔 hopefully it's good though <3

Everything about Spencer is divine. The hair that hands in caramel-colored waves around your face, tips tickling your skin and only offering more stimulation to an already overwhelming experience. His lips, pink and plump that suckle ravenously at your neck, leaving stinging patches in their wake that won't heal for days. His cock, impressively thick and moderately long, stretching your drooling cunt and bumping rapidly against a spot so deep inside of you you're not sure you knew it existed. His fingers, long, slender, and veined, laying heavy on your tongue and putting pressure on its base so that you gag. Drool spills out around his digits as your body shakes from the force of his thrusts, and the gentle, soothing hum of his voice is with you only in sound, not in meaning.

You're too far gone to recognize the words spilling from his lips as he fucks you, terms like 'slut', 'dirty', 'filthy', and 'dumb' that, on a normal day, would send you into a stammering, blushing mess of denial and excuses. But now you're basking in his saccharine tone, letting his words wash over you and evaporate before your fucked-out brain has time to process them.

"Everyone thinks you're a genius," Spencer croons, sucking hard at a spot against your throat as he jams his fingers onto your tongue, "They say I'm lucky to have found you, 'cause you can keep up with me. But I know the truth, angel." He holds your hip in place with a single calloused hand, "You go dumb on my cock. That's all it takes, isn't it? Just a few. short. minutes." He punctuates his accusations with particularly rough thrusts, "And I've got you braindead on my dick."

"Is that true, baby?" He asks, kissing his way up your jaw and tracing the curve with the stiff tip of his tongue. You're whimpering around the three fingers he's stuffed in your mouth, lips desperately milking them like you would his cock. He curls them on your tongue, pressing down so your speech is garbled, "Answer me, honey. You go stupid for me, don't you?"

"Love you," You manage to blabber, drool spilling from your lips as you speak around his fingers. You're a spluttering mess, spit pooled in your mouth that coats Spencer's digits and seeps down your chin. You suckle at him like a man starved, and the pressure actually starts to hurt between the wayward lapping of your tongue at the pads of his fingers, "Love you- Spence, love you."

He feels your cunt clench around his dick, your body seemingly in tune with the single goal of sucking him dry. He muffles a groan into the crook of your neck, wondering if you'll ever remember the filthy way he's speaking to you now.

The words are harsh, but they're used endearingly, and he hums them into your neck with a kiss, like it's a compliment, "Dumb slut."

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Amor

Summary: After a bad day at work, coming home to his family makes Javi realize his day wasn't so bad after all

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Dad!Javi x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Tooth rotting, sickening, fluff 😩😭 Allusions to smut, breeding kink, dad!Javi needs his own warning bc oh my GOD (more specifically, girl dad!Javi...) (*Also general spoiler warning if you don't want to read NTL out of order!*)

A/N: Y'ALL. I told you the dad!Javi brain rot was UNREAL. After writing this, I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to stop writing for dad!Javi ever and I'm not even sorry about it 🤷🏼‍♀️ Don't mind me casually screaming from the rooftops about how much I am obsessed him okay BYE 🤪

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the NTL universe!

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Shitty. 

There were a lot of words Javi could have used to describe how his day at work had gone. 

At 9:30, after his weekly phone call with border patrol, who provided him with little to no helpful information, the word would have been annoying. 

At 11:15, after Agent Miller knowingly jammed the copier and left it for someone else to fix, leaving Javi with no way to make any copies, the word would have been frustrated. 

At 3:40, after his department meeting with the other Sheriff’s Offices from the county, none of whom came prepared, as usual, the word would have been angry. 

And now, at 6:15, after a spilled afternoon coffee, a giant stack of paperwork that had been thrown on his desk, and a pounding headache, the word to describe his day was nothing short of shitty. 

Throwing his briefcase into the passenger’s seat, cranking the AC up and the volume of his car radio to zero, Javi sat in his truck, silently brooding in his moodiness to sulk in the misery that had been his absolutely shitty day. 

The rest of his drive home was the same as his pouting in the parking lot of the Laredo County Sheriff’s Department- no music, no windows down, no grin on his face like his usual drives home after work. Javi couldn’t remember a day at work this shitty since the DEA, and that in itself was saying something. 

As Javi pulled onto your street, dust swooshed beneath the bouncing of his truck tires along the gravel road, the sun just beginning to fade from its vibrant yellows and oranges to its soft pinks, beaming behind the clouds scattered throughout the September sky. The view was just enough to snap him out of his overbearing funk- the brightly colored sunset painted behind the view of your house and tiny, shadowed figures dancing in the driveway meant that nothing else in the world mattered anymore. Not frustrating colleagues, piles of paperwork, even spilt cups of desperately deserved coffee. The only thing that mattered to him now, were his 4 favorite people in the world, waiting for him to come home. The only thing that mattered was his family. 

Lucy was the first to notice Javi’s truck rolling down the driveway, immediately prompting the 4 of you to pause your soccer game that had been happening in the front yard, which, after your two year old had decided she wanted to get involved, had really turned into more of a match of “Chase Harper through the grass as she tries to run away with the soccer ball”. 

“Daddy’s home!” Lucy and Elliot squealed, bolting towards Javi’s truck as it finally reached a halt at the end of the driveway, prompting you to scoop up Harper and follow behind, knowing she would be just as thrilled to see her dad, even if her little legs couldn’t keep up with her older sisters' quite yet. The girls bounced in excitement, frantically waving at Javi as they waited for him to exit the car.

From the moment the driver’s side door was open, and both Javi’s feet were on the ground, Lucy and Elliot were wrapped around Javi’s waist, squeezing him with a love and affection that instantly eased every last bit of stress, melting away any remnants of the previous parts of his day. 

“Hi Daddy!” The girls giggled in delight as they latched tighter around their dad’s hip, the feeling instantly making him crouch down to their level and drape his arms around them, pulling them in as closely as he could in return.

“Hola, Pollitas.” (Hi, little chickens). The sigh Javi let out was like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, hugging his girls just a little tighter and longer than normal, almost as if he couldn’t bear to let them go. 

“Daddy, you’re squishing me!” Elliot squealed, wriggling her little body in Javi’s grasp. 

“Yeah, Dad, you’re gonna crush us!” Lucy teased, both the girls bursting into laughter as Javi gave them one last squeeze before hosting them up, letting their little legs flail as he shook them in his grasp before setting them back down, pressing a soft kiss on each of their heads. 

“Crush my Pollitas? Never. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Javi teased back, making the girls roll their eyes. 

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Harper cooed, outstretching her arms towards Javi as the two of you made it to the driveway, Javi immediately scooping her up from you and hosting her in the air, peppering her with little kisses across her body, making her squeal just as loudly as her sisters. 

“Mi mas pequeño amor (My littlest love).” Javi grinned, resting Harper against his hip as his little fan club had finally parted ways enough for you to greet your husband, gently cradling his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the sweet taste of him that felt like home. 

“Hi.” You smiled, pulling back just enough to see the sweet grin spread across his face before leaning back in for a hug, letting the warmth and scent of his body engulf you whole, making the grin on your face just as wide as his. “Long day?” You asked, still pressed against his chest, noting his arrival time back home was later than normal. 

“Not anymore.” He beamed, staring down at you with that tender gaze that still made you melt, even after all your years together. 

“Daddy, can I show you the picture I made you in art today? Please, please, please?” Lucy pleaded, once again wrapped around Javi’s hip, gently tugging at his shirt for his attention. 

“I made one, too!” Elliot interjected, crossing her arms in defiance, a shocked look on her face that her sister dared to leave her out of the art contribution about to be made to their dad. 

“Your little artists have been hard at work today.” You grinned. “I’m pretty sure the Peña house is going to soon be a nationally recognized museum for pictures of puppies, Daddy, and gorillas.” 

“Gorillas? That’s a new one.” Javi laughed, looking at you with a confused tilt of your head, your only response to shrug your shoulders in just as much confusion and amusement. 

“Mrs. Collins read us a book about them in library today! So I showed Elliot and Harper how to draw them!” Lucy beamed, proudly crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied nod. 

“I’m sure they’re amazing, mi amor (my love), gorillas and all.”  

“Alright goobers, now that Daddy’s home it’s time for dinner, why don’t you go clean up the rest of your art stuff and we can show Daddy your pictures before we eat.” You smiled, Javi gently setting Harper back on the ground, only to quickly be scooped back up again by Lucy, the 3 girls racing through the front yard and into the house, giggling and screeching in excitement the whole way there, leaving you and Javi watching your daughters dash across the driveway. 

Once the girls were out of sight, Javi’s hands slid down your sides, fingers pressing into your hips as he tugged you in closer, making your rest your hands on his broad chest as he kissed you, now making you giggle as he grabbed an unexpected handful of your ass, giving it a playful smack as you swatted at him, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood for having a shitty day at work.” You smirked, biting down on your lip as you raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. 

“How’d you know I had a bad day at work?” Javi asked, cocking his head in confusion, hand still gripped tightly around the small of your back. 

“Because I know you like the back of my hand, Javier Jesús Peña. I could just tell. Plus, you always give those girls an extra big hug after a long day, since I know how much you miss them, even though you literally saw them this morning.” You snickered, lovingly nudging Javi before pressing another kiss onto his lips. 

“What? Like it’s a crime to miss my family while I’m stuck in terrible fucking meetings and doing shitty ass paper work all day? To wanna spend all my time with my beautiful daughters and their even more beautiful momma? Fine, guilty as charged, I guess.” Javi winked, gently tracing his thumb on the soft skin of your stomach, barley peeking out between your shirt and shorts. 

“Well I guess the five of us will all just head off to Peña prison together since we’re all guilty of missing you just as much.” 

“God, you’re such a dork.” He sighed, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Jav.” The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the comfort of each other’s embrace, forever your favorite feeling. “Okay, we should probably get back in there before the munchkins get up to no good, huh? In addition to trying to teach Elliot and Harper how to draw gorillas, Lucy was also trying to teach them how to body check someone when they played hockey in the driveway.” 

“They are their mother’s daughters, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Plus, I apparently have some pictures of gorillas to go see.” Javi chuckled, reaching back to open the passenger side door of his truck to pull out his bag as the two of you headed back towards the house. 

“Well, if you needed something to make you feel better, looking at Elliot’s attempt at drawing you, her, Lucy and Harper riding on a purple gorilla while I chase you riding a rainbow gorilla will probably do the trick.” The two of you laughed, walking hand in hand to the front door, pausing one last time on your porch before entering back into the giggles and grins filling your home. “And if that doesn’t work, I bet after we put the girls to bed, I can think of something else that might help you feel better, too.” You smirked, eyeing Javi up and down with a mischievous grin spread across your face. 

“Yeah? You gonna let me give me baby number 4, huh Momma?” Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip, his eyes wide and smirk even bigger than yours. 

“Bold of you to assume the rainbow gorilla isn’t enough. Guess we do have an extra room to fill, don’t we?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge before heading through the door, joining the girls in the kitchen, eagerly waiting with drawings in hand to show their dad. As Javi trailed behind you, greeted by the image of his wife and daughters gleefully gathered around the kitchen counter, waving their colorful papers at him, he couldn’t help but feel his heart burst at the seams, flooded with sense of love and comfort that he was convinced nothing else on this earth would ever be able to top. 

Even on the shittiest of days, Javi knew that nothing could really ever be that bad, knowing he would get to spend the rest of his life coming home to the 4 people in the world that made it all worth it. Knowing he would spend his forever surrounded by the love of his family.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

[oceansprompts]

text message prompts

[text] You okay?

[text] GO TO BED!

[text] hey you better be alive in there

[text] SOS save me please holy shit

[text] call me this date is going so bad

[text] I have way too much shit to do.

[text] Honestly I'm really worried about you.

[text] Why are you trending on Twitter?

[text] Please let me come over and pet your (pet).

[text] We are in the same building, you could come talk to me.

[text] It's not going to work out.

[text] This is a terrible idea.

[text] people have fetishes

[text] They really do crucify anyone these days huh

[text] I don't know why but that really means me want to stab you

[text] That movie was awful.

[text] For the love of god please help me

[text] I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.

[text] I'm blocking you.

[text] YOU ONE BRAINCELLED BITCH

[text] I regret swiping right.

[text] Everyone lies on their dating profiles.

[text] That absolutely can't be an actual picture of you.

[text] This forced open my third eye and I saw the devil

[text] I'm like a child in line for the newest fucked up disney ride

-

[text] That's just all fucking sorts of fucked up

[text] Why are we here? To suffer? Every other day I get messages that cause pain

[text] In the department of old man fucking, we've got you beat.

[text] have you gotten any work done?

[text] I am beyond shame, try again

[text] You left your left your underwear at my place.

[text] Don't you dare put this on Facebook.

[text] My brother in Christ you're being haunted

[text] I want to wring you like a wet towel and slap you against a wall

[text] The mind is weak but the body is funky

[text] I'm a zombie the law can't stop me.

[text] Jealous of my massive honkers

[text] We left you to die to play minecraft

[text] She would never ever take away one of these stupid fucking hats

[text] I puked all over the Uber driver's backseat.

[text] I just took a screenshot of that and posted it to Reddit

[text] You said you'd be right back and it's been months.

[text] Can't we talk about this face to face?

[text] Yeah, you'll come learn I just have a thing for milk

[text] Why did you like one of my pics from 2014?

[text] Now's as good a time as any to exchange nudes.

[text] Why would you send me an eggplant emoji?

[text] I write five paragraphs, pouring my heart out, and all you reply with is k?!

[text] Who would dare to lie on the internet?

[text] When I die, please delete all my shit off the internet

[text] He's so hot, I briefly started texting like a straight person

[text] And because I'm god and I've decided that; no, in fact, I'm not done.

-

[text] I know you love bloopy reggae jams, now is not the time.

[text] You better not be standing catatonic in your room again.

[text] God has abandoned his children but unfortunately for you I pay child support and I will smite thee.

[text]: My neighbor just told me he can fix my water heater for 50 bucks. I’m skeptical.

[text]: Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy apples? I paid 10 dollars for 6.

[text]: I mean, I wouldn’t say I have a problem with buying Squishmallows..

[text]: Hey, so you know how you told me no dog? *sends pic* I don’t do well with no’s.

[text] Stuart Little is a bitch and Remy could take him any day.

[text]: My roommate just said that Lola Bunny is hot. I’m moving out.

[text]: Hey I posted that vid of you drunk, singing Ariana Grande, wearing all black and people said not to do it again. Sorry.

[text]: Do you think the price is ever right? Like, I feel like it’s not.

[text]: I booped your nose. Boop the last five people you texted or–nothing happens really.

[text]: I’m actually in the ER and it’s a long story that involves Best Day Ever from spongebob.

[text]: I fucking hate you–wait you’re not my ex. Who are you?

[text]: You ever ask yourself if birds see a bee and just go ‘wow a bee’? im high.

[text]: sometimes all i think about is–sour patch kids. bet you thought it was you.

[text]: I love you—not as much as I love my dog. But still a lot!

[text]: I found a cat on the way home and now it’s mine. But it hates my guts so this should be fun.

[text]: I have questions about the marvel cinematic universe…how long do you have?

[text]: why do donald duck and winnie the pooh not have to wear pants but other people do?

[text]: Hey you know that show floor is lava? I may have turned the apartment into that..this isn’t a joke, btw. the floor is sticky.

[text]: I bought too much soap off etsy and now I don’t know what to do with it…I smell like Captain America.

[text]: On a scale of one to ten, how many drinks would you need to sleep with me? This isn’t a tiktok trend…or it is.

[wonderlandwalker]

Trying to Forget | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Part 2 of Remember. Finnick is trying to make peace with simply being your friend, because he thinks that is better than not getting to see you at all, but he might be proven painfully wrong. Find part 3 here

Content Warnings/Tags: Memory loss, insinuations of smut, angst, foreshadowing

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I have seen all your requests so here it is, part 2 of Remember. Happy ending is unfortunately not part of my vocabulary so this will have to do. I want to write more as a continuation of this but I have a big exam coming up so unless someone wants to take that for me I might have to take a break for a little bit

He still wasn't used to it, to see you there, to see you sitting next to your friends and how he had to join them as if that’s all he was, a friend. And don't get him wrong, he was glad you were there, he was thankful they had found you, but it hurt too.

You spend your days as if nothing was wrong, and he supposes to you there wasn't. He had to hold himself back from falling to your feet and praying to the gods to give you back to him. And he didn't understand what he had done wrong to deserve this punishment. He knows he has made mistakes in his life, but surely the cruelty of his current situation could not be matched by any and all of his past. When you look at him with those eyes full of excitement he wants to kiss you and make you remember, but it would only push you further away. So he pretends, he pretends he’s okay with the way things are, that he is okay with being a friend. 

He tries to let go, he really does. He tries to separate you from his love for you. He tries to remember not to hug you from behind when he walks into a room, but every time he remembers a piece of him withers away. 

And he doesn't know how to deal with this, because whenever he was upset, he would go to you. He would talk to you, or lay down next to you, and your presence would assure him he’d get through it, it would show him what he was doing it all for. But your presence isn't assuring anymore, it's shattering.

So he’s stopped touching you, he’s stopped looking at you like you’re about to remember him again, he’s stopped showing you affection. But he doesn't know what to do with himself, he’s spent as long as he can remember loving you, and he doesn't know where to channel this hole that is threatening to swallow him. So he makes sure you have everything he knows will light up your days, even if you don’t remember, he’ll remember for you. He makes sure they don't run out of blueberry jam because he remembers the time you told him it made the perfect breakfast with yoghurt. And whenever he does, you always look so surprised, asking him how they possibly could have known, but the real question is how he could possibly ever forget. 

Yes, he’ll remember for you. He’ll remember how you get cold at night after a long day, and he convinces someone to stack an extra blanket on your bed. And you might think it’s a coincidence every time, but he’ll never let coincidence make a turn for the worse. 

He sees when you go to visit the doctor, but he doesn't know what is going on anymore, because he isn't your boyfriend anymore. He’s asking people, bribing people to tell him, but it rarely works, because it’s confidential, and he no longer holds the privilege to your heart. 

There’s a small party tonight, and he knows you’ll be there. He knows because you’ve become close to Johanna, you laugh with her and you spend your days with her. And he’s glad that you’ve found someone you can talk to, but he still wished it had been him. In a way, it’s a small victory, because Johanna has taken pity on him. In any other situation, he’d tell her he didn't need it, he didn't need anyone's sorrow to comfort him, but he’d just be lying to himself and she knows it too. In any other situation he would have shut down on himself, he would have locked himself in his room and not come out. But you’re still here, haunting him like a ghost from a comforting dream he once had, so he goes on as usual, but it might be worse this way. 

Yet he still takes every crumb he can find, and so here he is. He’s standing around talking as if everything isn't so very, very wrong. He sees you walk in, and he wants to look away, because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, but he just can't. He remembers the dress you’re wearing, and if you had too he would have called you cruel for it. But he knows you don't, he knows it's just him basking in the memory of your skin against his, and that you probably don’t even remember what he feels like anymore.

He recalls the memory as clear as day, but if someone has been repeating them in their head like he had been, there wouldn't be any other option. You’re wearing the dress you wore on your anniversary last year. He had seen you wearing it and insisted on staying in, but you just laughed at him and called him silly for the idea, he didn't think it had been silly. He thought that if you had let him, he would have cancelled everything he had spent weeks planning. Because truly, all he really needed was you. You had shown him the dress and asked him how you looked. He had said you looked good enough to eat, and he was ready to prove his point to you over and over until the sun went down and took his vision of you with it, and even then he would have gladly continued.

But this time he doesn't get to, he sees you walk in with Johanna by your side, and he honestly doesn't know if this was intentional, but the grin she gets when she sees him watching tells him it isn't purely coincidental. Johanna had taken pity on him, but she was testing him as payment. 

All he wants to do is walk over to you, take your hand and kiss the soft base of your palm as you start to giggle nervously. He wants to, but he can’t. He can’t because this time you won't grace his ears with laughter, you’d just pull away. And he tries not to think of the way he wants to trail his fingers from your silk hair to the top of your dress. He tries to distract himself from the urge to kiss you while he drags the zipper down your back. He tries not to remember the way you used to moan his name as he traced a path up your thighs with his lips. 

He wants to forget, he wants to forget so he can find peace again. With all of his might he tries to forget, as if that will make everything more bearable. But in reality, if he did forget, he didn't think he would ever forgive himself.

He tears his eyes away from you and starts to leave before you can meet them, and if he hadn't, if he had given into his wish to keep getting lost in the vision that you were to him, he might have seen the smallest spark of memory flash through your eyes. He might have seen you walk his way to greet him with a new sense of sentiment, trying to nourish the bubbles that had surfaced after the storm. But he never gets the chance, because he has convinced himself keeping his hopes up was futile, he had resigned himself so much to a life of admiring you from a distance that he didn't even consider it might not be forever, that even the cruellest of circumstances can't keep two people destined for each other apart. But if he wasn't careful, the scissors of the fates might take it from him once more before he got the chance to see it.

Part 3: The Will of the Moirai

[revvethasmythh]

Have you witnessed discoursing about Orym in the past several months? Would you like to be more well-informed about the subject matter? Well, then, do I have a post for you! As a reference for myself and potentially for others:

A Comprehensive Write-Up Of Relevant Times And Contexts Where Orym Has Brought Up His Dead Family While The Group Discusses The Vanguard/Predathos--With Receipts

Disclaimer: these are all of the instances in which I was able to find independently through the Critical Role transcript search, not from rewatching everything. It is therefore possible there are some instances unaccounted for.

Episode 34. Post-resurrection after being killed by Otohan Thull, he brings up the fact that Otohan had a hand in killing his family to emphasize to Imogen how dangerous Otohan is and that she may potentially continue to be an issue for her specifically due to her apparent interest in Imogen (exalting her during the battle in the previous episode)

2. Episode 46. An early God Talk™️, prompted by Ludinus using (presumably) Feeblemind on Professor Kadija Sumal. He holds his opinion until the very end of the conversation, after entertaining Imogen's idea that "they make some good points" and listening to the group discuss if the gods are good or bad for several minutes.

"I don't need to debate it. I lost my husband and father to these people, I'm not on board. Some of the gods are terrifying, and some of them have put their thumbs on the scales for people for centuries, even in the last few decades. Who are they, who are we to decide who lives or dies, god or mortal or otherwise? I don't think they have any good points."

3. Episode 49. He brings them up combatively ("Well, Imogen, I wish. my family didn't have to die for their brighter tomorrow"), against Imogen's statement of, "What if it's not that bad? [...] What if what we're doing is just fighting change?" after she solely received a vision of a Utopia-like future from her mother. Imogen backs down quickly after his reproach and acknowledges that the vision was likely a part of cult brainwashing.

4. Episode 61. Orym pulls Prism aside, after she asks the party and Elder Abbadina if Predathos would cause a world-ending event, or if it would only be bad for some (the Elder did not know anything about Predathos at all), to say, "I don't think we know anything [...] The only thing I have to go on is the track record of the guys trying to bring Predathos out. And that track record is not very good." At further prompting from Prism about if he ever thought the Vanguard's ideas were right, he says, "Prism, I don't understand the gods. I don't know anything about the titans. I don't know an eidolon from eyeliner. [...] But I'm a widower, because of the people who want to bring this about. So it's hard for me to wrangle with the other side."

5. Episode 61, pt. 2. Orym listens to the party converse with Elder Abbadina for a little while longer before silently sneaking out "to go think about his dead father and his dead husband."

6. Episode 77. Another God Talk™️ with the whole party, prompted by FCG asking what everyone's motive was in going to the moon. For his reasoning, he says, "We don't know what's going to happen to any inch of this world if Predathos is unleashed. Yeah, this started with my husband and my father. It's so much bigger than that. If my life can secure the lives of everyone who comes after us, well spent."

7. Episode 92. After the death of another loved one to Otohan Thull, in response to Liliana's statement that temples might hunt down Ruidusborn in the theoretical event that Ludinus' plot is foiled, "Cold comfort for my family in the ground."

8. Episode 92, pt. 2. In response to a throwaway, thoughtless comment Ashton made that, "I hope [Liliana] is right. I really do. I hope her ends are fucking great because these means are just not forgivable." Orym has Chetney bring out Otohan's sword, jams one into the sand and declares, "This is the sword that killed my father and my husband. She is not right."

UPDATE: 8/14/24

9. Episode 102, during the confrontation with Ludinus. Interjected during the ongoing conversation, specifically during some bantering between Chetney and Ludinus as to the last time they met (when Chetney attacked him as a werewolf). He says, "You put a hit on my family, a successful one, fuck you. Fuck you." Ludinus later apologizes for the deaths of his family, claiming Otohan was "overzealous in her methods." Both Imogen and Laudna respond immediately that he was responsible for Otohan's actions.

10. Episode 103, during yet another God Conversation. Orym tries to redirect conversation about Ludinus and the gods, stating that they are different topics. Ashton concurs, and Imogen states that she agrees with Orym that Ludinus doesn't get to decide for everyone. Dorian then interjects, "But the gods do?" Which prompts Orym's blunt response to him specifically that, "If Ludinus had sent people to your home, and taken brother and your father and countless others, how philosophical would you be about it, Dorian?"

-

So, with all of the information in front of us, what conclusions can we draw from them? When asked by others to assess if the Vanguard has valid points, Orym repeatedly abstains from having an opinion. Whether or not the Vanguard has a reason to be upset is irrelevant to him--what is relevant is the loss of life they have incurred along the way. Orym takes no stance on the gods, he repeatedly states he doesn't understand them or know anything about them or harbor much of a connection to them. As far as he is concerned, his role in this is to oppose the violence being done to the people of Exandria. Why waste your time debating the merits of a cult's ideology when you know, in the end, you will have to fight against them to end the slaughter? To protect people?

And for what it's worth, in almost every instance, Ashton has effectively taken the same side as Orym. I have not included all of these moments, but they are easily located if you wanted to search up these moments on your own. The continual focus on de-legitimizing Orym's opinion seems strongly tied to the fact that he has a personal reason to hate the Vanguard. But facts being facts, Ashton hates them just the same--and he has no love of the gods, either. He hates the Vanguard based on their actions, same as Orym. In fact, Ashton and Laudna have both expressed outright dislike for the gods, and all other Bells Hells except for FCG expressed ambivalence. This is not about the gods. Not for Orym, not for the others who remain. This is about no more bodies on the pyre of Ludinus' machinations.

P.S. if you know of any other instances this topic has come up that I have not included, please feel free to let me know! I want this post to be as comprehensive as it can be, but I am fallible and may have missed something. Don't be afraid to tell me about a scene I missed!

[slasherx]

Gurl you write so fast like a Machine 😂, I wish I could write like that, and also good luck with your finals!

Can I do a request for A Micheal Myers with a childhood crush (female) like as a kid Michael had a crush on the reader but like after he killed they were separated for years but them micheal broke out and came across the reader all grown up if you can!

Also can you do Rz Michael, he's my favorite

Lol thats cause I have the motivation to write about slashers rn. And thank you! I got a 94% on one of them, but I won't get my final grade on the other one for a bit. I hope I pass.

Content: Michael Myers x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, obsessive love

Notes: Even though the gif is peepaw Myers, this takes place in the RZ universe

• ───────────────── •

Michael was put away in the asylum when he was ten. Before he made a vow to never speak again, he kept asking his mother and Dr. Loomis where you were, and if you could come visit him. His mother promised to talk to your parents about it, but that she couldn't guarantee you could come see him.

And so she did. She tried talking to your parents, but your parents wanted you nowhere near that monster of a child. They outright refused her on numerous occasions, even when Michael's mother pleaded with them on her knees at their front door.

When she broke the news to Michael that you wouldn't be seeing him, Michael lost it. He could feel something in his head snap, the same way it snapped when bullies would hurt you or him. Or the same way he felt himself snap that Halloween night.

He managed to keep it cool until Dr. Loomis and his mother left, but when they sent in that nurse to watch him until they could escort him to his room, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He took his plastic fork and jammed it into her throat, cutting her scream short. He was angry. Why wouldn't you come see him? Why? Why, why, why? He didn't understand...he thought you were best friends.

• ───────────────── •

Eight years after that day, he had a visitor that wasn't Dr. Loomis. He had known his mother killed herself, his sister was dead, and Boo was probably far away in the foster care system, so he had hoped it was you.

When they sat him in the room, he had felt anxious for the first time in years. Had you changed like he had? Did you grow out your hair like him? Grown taller like him? He kept a mask on, one he made in rememberance of you. It was just your favorite color all over it.

Finally, you walked in and sat down across from Michael. A couple guards stood at the door, in case Michael tried to leap at you regardless of his cuffs chaining him to the table. He was breathing heavily - you had changed.

You had grown taller, but you remained shorter than him. Now at eighteen, you seemed very mature for your age, and Michael wanted to leap across the table at you, but not to kill you.

"Hi Michael. My parents don't know I'm here. I just...came to provide an explanation, since I feel you deserve one." You spoke, hands in your lap. "Your mother begged my parents to let me see you on many occasions, and each time they told her no. I remember one time she cried and got on her knees to beg my mother, but she just shut the door in her face."

Michael listened, quiet as ever. He was just happy to see you in front of him again. He was also surprised that Dr. Loomis wasn't here to supervise this meeting.

"And I want you to know that Dr. Loomis has contacted me since I turned eighteen, and we've spoken about you a couple of times. He told me you don't speak anymore, and that you killed a nurse while being in here." You decided it was now or never to try and break his vow of silence. "Is...is that true, Michael?"

Michael wanted to break his silence, but he knew Loomis would be on his ass if he did. So all he did was nod his head yes.

You seemed to shift uncomfortably. Your breathing increased, and he could tell you were scared. This saddened him - he didn't want you to be scared of him, he wanted you to love him. You two were attached to each other as children, why would a few murders make this any different?

"I...think I better go before my parents realize I'm not at my friends house." You started to get up, when Michael launched at you and grabbed your wrist, straining the cuffs on him.

He held you hard, and you could see the desperation in his eyes. He was all alone here. But he still killed those people, and if you weren't careful, you'd be next. The guards moved forward and forced Michael back, and a few more people rushed into the room. One rushed to you and put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ma'am, ma'am, are you alright?" The man asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, thank you." It was too fast for you to process it, but Michael was staring at you. "Please, take me out of here."

• ───────────────── •

Now outside, you saw Dr. Loomis by your car. He was pacing, clearly nervous about your meeting with Michael. Then when he saw you approach, he waved to you.

"How did it go?"

"Please don't talk to me. I shouldn't have come here." You responded shakily.

"What happened in there? Did he break his silence?"

"No, but he fucking grabbed me! Who knows what else he would have done if the guards hadn't been there?! I was crazy to even come here." You opened your car door and got inside.

"Please, wait, (Y/n). You don't know how much you mean to Michael, I-"

"Save it, Dr. Loomis. I'm going home. Stop calling me." You started up your car and peeled out of the parking lot. Memories of you and Michael as kids began to race through your head and you began to cry. How did it come to this...?

• ───────────────── •

Seven more years went by. Seven more years where Michael didn't see you. Seven more angry years. But now, it was different. Michael was standing in front of your house.

He was different now. He was more built, even taller, and his hair was even longer. You used to comment on his long hair as a kid, it was one of the reasons he kept it so long in the first place.

He could see you through the window. You lived alone now, just down the street from your childhood home. He was content watching you through the window. You were preparing dinner, when you suddenly got a call. He decided now was the time to enter your home.

Moving around to the back door, he began to pick the lock.

"Hello?" You picked up your phone.

With a click, he was in.

"(Y/n)! You need to listen to me-" Dr. Loomis practically shouted on the other line.

Michael slowly opened the door.

"Save it, Dr. Loomis. I told you to stop calling me." You were about to hang up.

Michael made his way to your living room, right next to your kitchen.

"He's escaped! Michael has escaped!"

"What?" You spoke, shock and fear tearing through your system. You put a hand over your mouth, and looked up through your window, but you saw a figure behind you.

"You're not safe! Flee Haddonfield!" Dr. Loomis begged.

You spun around to see a large man with a knife glistening in his hand. He had a white mask on, blonde hair poking out underneath it. You didn't need him to take off the mask to see who it was. Your fear skyrocketed as you thought he was going to kill you.

"Michael...?" You spoke, slowly lowering the phone and ignoring Dr. Loomis' pleas.

Michael moved towards you. He finally had you now, and he would never let you go again. He was yours, and you will be his.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

[chessholic]

The One With

Comfort

ー

　　　　 F R I E N D S

X

R E A D E R

　　　 　ー

Summary: Your boyfriend was a jerk and he broke up with you. Fortunately you had your friends and all of them helped you in their own ways.

ー　

Author's Note: I will forever love Friends, my favourite comfort show. I have a few fics written about Joey, I could maybe publish them. Let's see, I hope you enjoy this.

ー

You stumbled into Monica's and Rachel's apartment.

To simply put it you looked disheveled. Your eyes were slightly red and puffy, hair a mess and your clothes didn't match your jacket or shoes, which was unusual.

You cursed slightly when you could see six pairs of eyes staring at you, of course they were all here. If they were not in the coffee shop they were here.

"Y/N?", Monica asked rushing towards you from the kitchen.

"What happened?", she asked worriedly and brushed your messed up hair behind your ears. Monica also helped you out of your jacket and helped you to sit on the couch.

Chandler was sitting on the other side and you could see he was holding back some sarcastic comments about your current state.

You were slightly glad, you always found him funny, but this was definitely not the moment.

Phoebe had been sitting on the floor in front of the television. She had her guitar and was writing down something, probably a new song for next week.

Central Perk was in for a treat.

The song title was 'My mother was killed by a drug dealer, my mother was a drug dealer'.

Joey was in the kitchen sitting at the table finishing off something from the fridge it was apparently a jar of jam, maybe blueberry jam. However his eyebrows were scrunched in worry.

Rachel was sitting around the table too with Ross, both looking slightly amazed at Joey's eating, that wasn't probably his first jar of jam.

They were probably leaving to go on a date soon, because they were all dressed up. It made your heart ache.

"He left me", sob escaped your mouth shortly after your confession.

The apartment was filled with different reactions.

Monica was first to close you into a tight embrace petting your hair.

"I am so sorry, we could bake cookies today and burn some of his belongings?", your friend suggested while trying to calm you down. She was quick to offer you a tissue box.

"He took them with his new girl when he came and broke up with me", you cried still distraught about the fact he had cheated and moved on so fast like you never existed.

"Let's burn him instead, yea?", Chandler proposed and scooted closer to you rubbing your back slightly awkwardly, you knew it wasn't his expertise to console someone if sarcasm was off the table.

You let out a watery laugh muttering a quiet thanks to him.

"Yeah, we don't need to go with Ross, he was anyways taking us to some lecture about... Rocks", Rachel joined walking towards the living room and stole you from Monica. While Ross choked up.

"They are not rocks, they are... Well technically they are..."

Rachel hugged you tightly while she gave a deathly glare at Ross shutting him up.

"I am sorry, that jerk didn't deserve you. Let's go shopping some day, okay? We can use my discount", she took your face in her hands and you nodded eyes shining.

In your sad tears had mixed happy tears, you had amazing friends. You couldn't help, but feel thankful.

"My grandmother's taxi can fit a body in the trunk", Phoebe said suddenly getting up to give you a hug.

"Noted, don't piss off Pheebs, ever", Chandler said while others didn't even know what to say. Everyone however had the same question in mind.

"We can also make a song together, I could also use some inspiration and break up songs are hits usually. Especially when the ex was a total asshole", Phoebe stated giving you a hug before returning to her song writing place.

Phoebe turned the paper and made some notes, you couldn't wait to hear what the song was going to be.

"Thank you everyone, I really appreciate you and your help", you thanked them from the bottom of your heart.

"That's what friends are for", Monica stated and everyone nodded agreeing to what she said.

"We are there to help and for each other"

"I can take you on a tour in the museum someday, at least someone appreciates the rocks here", Ross suggested and bitterly muttered the rest of his sentence making Rachel give him another glare which Ross returned.

"Enough with the bickering love birds, I am getting PTSD", Chandler said jumping from the sofa and getting the couples jackets, before throwing them to the owners and ushering the couple towards the door.

"Go, go, out, off you go", Chandler ushered not letting Rachel or Ross protest.

"We got this, have fun with the rocks", Chandler said before slamming the door closed. He looked pleased with himself.

You clapped and he bowed, "That was rather impressive", you confessed.

"Rachel probably hasn't ever left so quickly to anywhere, could be the first time they are on time somewhere", Monica pondered for a moment before heading back to the kitchen.

"You relax and I will prepare the cookie dough. This situation needs cookie dough and ice cream", Monica ordered pointing at you to stay put.

"I might have eaten the ice cream", Joey said quietly with a sheepish look on his face when he avoided looking at Monica's face.

"I will go get more, because I trust myself more than Joey to go get the ice cream", Chandler stated pulling his jacket on.

He quickly came to you and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"I will go get all your favourite ice cream, hold on, although I know it will be difficult without my charming presence and looks"

Phoebe let out a snort earning a glare from Chandler.

"Really needed to twist the knife", he muttered before exiting the apartment.

You quietly sat on the sofa. Phoebe was writing and Monica preparing everything comforting food the world new in the kitchen.

Suddenly the sofa dipped, Joey had sat next to you.

Joey had a small amount of jam on his face, it wasn't much compared to the last time, but still.

You took a tissue you hadn't yet used and cleaned his face. After that he opened his arms to welcome you into a warm embrace. You cuddled next to Joey without a moment of hesitation, pressing your head against his chest you could feel his warmth and heart beat making you relax.

"Finally I got you all to myself", Joey mumbled quietly pressing a small kiss onto your hair.

"I am sorry, you deserve so much more"

Joey's heart was aching for his friend, he would do anything in his power to make you feel better. He would maybe even share his pizza with you...

Maybe a slice.

Yes, a slice was fine.

ー

[ddollfface]

𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

"You're as hot as the bottom of my laptop, mamas ;)."

Trigger Warnings; gaslighting, manipulation, somewhat spreading misinformation, hinting at yandere behaviors, fluff, PDA, reader is referred to as a girl, honestly this is pretty tame lol If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Just a few headcanons on a new OC. And, just so you know, when I was writing this, I had an afab!reader in mind! If you have any requests, idk why you would, but send them in! I hope you enjoy:)))

Never, ever refers to you as your given name. He prefers to call you by some type of nickname or pet name, depending on his mood. His go-to is mamas, sweet cheeks, baby cakes, hot stuff, good-lookin', and so much more. Honestly, he could go on all day, just listing different pet names he has for you. At this point, it's become a source of entertainment for you, trying to see what odd name he'll call you. Come on, you don't like that nickname, sugar plum? How about dolly? Baby girl? Pumpkin? I don't know, you look like an angel, baby.

Though you'll admit it, it's somewhat endearing to hear, especially when you know he's only called you these cute names. But at a certain point, it gets embarrassing... Like does your mama need to know that he calls you bubble butt, of all things? Let me answer that for you, no, no she does not. If anything, that's something she should never, ever know.

He demands that you come to his games; he doesn't want you to miss a single one. He'll show up to your house at the crack of dawn, on a Saturday, and drag you out of bed to bring you to his game. He doesn't give too shits if your hair looks like a mess or if you're still in your jams. Nope, not at all. If anything, he likes it. He thinks you're adorable with your Hello Kitty booty shorts.

He just wants you there, to support him. He wants to have his own personal cheerleader, someone who he can come to after the game, and give a hug too.

While the thought behind it is endearing and cute, that doesn't change the fact that he's just so pushy. He won't give up, no matter what. If he says you're going, then you're going. You don't get a say in the matter 'cause if you refuse to go, then he's going to bring out the waterworks. He's going to look at you with the saddest eyes you can imagine, there's even tears. He'll cock his head to the side and question you, asking why don't you want to support me? What happened to 'friends first? Remember when I went to that stupid party 'cause ya' didn't want to be alone? Where's my payback, yeah?

He'll use emotional manipulation to get what he wants, making you out to be the bag guy, instead of him. His guilt-tripping usually always works, well, so far it has. And now you're at some stupid hockey game, wrapped up in his jacket, wearing his team colors. Great, now people are asking how you bagged a guy like him. Jesus, where'd they get that idea from? You're not even dating...

Well, that's what you think. Little do you know, he's been going around town tellin' everyone about you. He'll hype you up to his buddies, rambling on and on about how you smell, how your cheeks puff up when you smile, and God, you're so pretty when you're sleeping. Wow, he doesn't mean that in a creepy way! Why would you think of it like that? Because he's just admiring the prettiest girl in school! Don't you know, mamas? You being here makes me the luckiest guy in town, yeah?

He's just so God damn touchy; people can't help but think ya'll are dating. Everything about your relationship screams dating. He's always got an arm around your shoulder, and if he's feeling really ballsy, he'll place a hand on your hip. Though those moments are far in between, seeing as you'll give him a hard side-eye when he does it.

But the PDA doesn't stop there. He'll hold your hand, claiming that he's just warming your hands. After all, it's pretty cold in the winter, yeah? He's just looking out for you, nothing to freak out over. Sometimes, he'll hug you a little too tight, and for a little too long. His touch lingers for such a prolonged time it causes you to look up at him with a questioning look.

Of course, he's the master of diverting your questions, shifting your conversations from his touchy behavior to finals. And this does nothing but piss you off, but it's hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that. The way he scoots his chair closer to yours, intertwining your pinkies together, and smiling at you like a dork. The way he'll bring you coffee (or warm tea, depending on your preference) during a cold morning, always making sure his baby's all warm. Or how he'll cover for you when you're late to a lecture, stalling the class for a few minutes, just enough for you to slip into class unnoticed.

All these small things let you forget about why you were even mad in the first place! I mean, what could he have done wrong? It couldn't be that bad right?

And just like that, you walk right back into his arms, not knowing that he's the one you should be running from. You're such a stupid girl, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll take care of you babes.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

The Storm - [Reader's POV]: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hi hello I love your writing

maybe you could do that Donna and reader are already in a relationship but nobody knows. but they have to stay Dimitrescus castle and after a couple days Daniela wants to play matchmaker with Donna and reader. After a few attempts and failing to get her sisters involved Daniela feels so confident that she’s making progress with her matchmaking and reader and Donna think it’s funny and play along. Of course soon after Daniela breaks into readers room bc she thinks there’s another woman in her bed but it’s Donna.

Yes!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))

Matchmaking

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: 5,531

Summary:  A storm made you to stay at the Dimitrescu castle with your secret girlfriend.... What could go wrong?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Cherries, oranges...” You said quietly, reviewing the order you always brought to the castle. No matter how long you had been the village's fruit supplier, you still didn't get used to being treated with respect among the Lords. “I think everything is there.”

The maid accompanying you glanced at the baskets and nodded with a smile.

“The lady says that the apples you brought last week were excellent,” young Ingrid commented, making your pride fly through the air.

“Oh, that's good, I guess,” you commented amused, crossing off the tasks completed in your small notebook.

“Of course, (Y/N), I highly doubt you'd still be here if they weren't,” the maid laughed, amused. You blinked, feeling a knot in your stomach. Sometimes you forgot who you worked for.

“Yeah...” You sighed, picking up a small one with homemade jams.

“It was a joke,” the girl said, embarrassed for having reminded you that one mistake and all the blood in your body would disappear. You smiled and nodded understandingly, before the creaking of the door caught your attention.

“Oh, Lady Beneviento,” the maid said bowing politely to the black figure that entered the warehouse.

The mystery woman nodded and you had to try hard to hide a smile and the rapid beating of your heart.

“Ingrid,” you said, drawing the attention of the maid, who was still crestfallen, intimidated by the presence of the doll maker. “You should inform Alcina of her arrival, right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, to which the young woman nodded profusely, leaving the warehouse.

You looked at the door to see that the maid had left and approached the lady in black, who also seemed a bit nervous.

“You honor me with your presence,” you whispered, biting your lip and taking a cherry from the basket, walking petulantly towards the lady, who laughed shyly under her veil. “You should try this… It is one of the best I have ever delivered.”

With the smile not leaving your face, you reached under the black veil, popping the cherry into the lady's mouth, who laughed again, reaching out to reach your hand and hold it, swaying.

After looking at both sides, checking that no one was there, you approached slowly, lifting the black veil and kissing the Lord’s lips slowly, something that made her gasp and bring her hands to your face, walking erratically until your back collided with a wall.

“Have you missed me, Donna?” You asked lovingly, contemplating her beauty, the beauty of her smile. She nodded, before attacking your lips again with a slightly rougher, more eager kiss.

“Did you think about what I proposed to you?” She asked in a low voice, lowering her hands to your waist.

You smiled even wider and pretended to roll your eyes.

“I don't know... Leaving my filthy cabin to live in a mansion with the woman of my life...” You murmured, hanging from her neck, soaking yourself in her lavender perfume.

“What do you have to think?! Say yes and let's go to the castle, I want to play with the girls,” the Angie doll said, impatiently tugging at her owner's dress.

“Angie, you always have to ruin the romance, huh?” You protested, shaking your head. The lady's pale hand diverted your gaze back to her, who was waiting for your response even more impatiently than the doll.

“So? What do you say, tesoro?” She asked again, approaching your lips.

“Mm, if you call me tesoro again, I won't think too much about it,” you joked, caressing her cheek and making her bite her lip.

“I can call you more things...” She whispered in your ear, leaning her body against yours in that cold warehouse.

“What kind of things?” You asked back, trying not to get too hot. The lady in black opened her mouth to say something that would probably send shivers down your spine, but she regretted it when footsteps began to be heard in the snow.

“Oh, it smells like a maid,” you murmured, kissing the back of her hand and turning away from her just as Ingrid entered the room again.

“Lady Dimitrescu is waiting for you, Lady Beneviento,” she said with heavy breathing. “And for you too, (Y/N).”

You both nodded and followed the young woman up the hill that led to the castle.

It seemed crazy, unlikely, but the trust the village Lords had placed in you had unforeseen consequences.

You were used to walking to the distant estate on your errands and it didn't take you too long to get used to Donna Beneviento. Strange, disturbed and... A terribly beautiful woman.

The visits became longer and longer, until finally, that curiosity you felt was relieved, you saw her face hidden and immediately afterwards, you showed that you felt something for her with a kiss. The feeling was reciprocal, obviously, something you sensed from her nervous way of speaking to you and those eternal teas that seemed to have no end.

It could be great news, that love you were waiting for, but, even if it was, and you were convinced that it was, there were still small formalities to clarify.

Donna was shy, too shy. For some reason no one but you, well, and Angie, knew about your relationship. Maybe out of fear that Mother Miranda wouldn't approve it, or maybe because Donna didn't want to tell anyone because... Well, you didn't know why exactly. You didn't care, you were okay with it and besides, you didn't want to be the center of rumors in the village, at least until you moved in with her, which was already imminent.

“Why is my sister waiting for you?” The lady in black asked with that tone that showed the jealousy she felt. You couldn't blame her. Until she met you, she was terribly lonely. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know exactly how human relationships worked.

You looked at her out of the corner of your eyes, suppressing the urge to take her hand, and pointed to the small basket you were carrying.

“Jam,” you whispered always careful for the maid to not hear you. Donna was very good at it but you... Not so much.

“You've never brought jam to me,” Donna protested, you assumed, looking at you curiously.

“When I move in with you, I'll do it every day,” you whispered, moving your hand so it brushed hers, causing another shy laugh to come out of her veil. “Which flavor is your favorite?”

“Mm, well, I...” She began to whisper, before a terrible crash interrupted her. It seemed like thunder.

“Uh, oh... It looks bad,” you said, looking at the black clouds in the sky, which had abruptly darkened it. Donna looked up and extended her hand to check if it was raining.

“I don't think it's raining,” you said, resuming your walk before, as if it were a shower, a thin curtain of water began to bathe you. “Oh, wow…”

“Let's go inside, quickly!” Ingrid screamed, now running up the hill.

You both nodded and, picking up the Angie doll from the ground, you ran towards the castle before getting completely wet.

“For Gods’ sake...” You said, helping the maid to close the doors. The rain was merciless and tireless. “Thank goodness this was my last assignment.”

Donna nodded, checking that her dress hadn't gotten too wet.

“Are you okay Don... I mean, Lady Beneviento?” You asked, correctly placing the veil of the woman in black, who discreetly nodded.

“It seems that the storm has caught you,” a deep voice said, Alcina Dimitrescu, who was waiting for you at the entrance, with a seductive smile, as always.

“Yes, my lady,” the maid said, bowing her head. The lady in white smiled and directed her gaze towards you.

“(Y/N), punctual as always,” she murmured with that sensual tone, making Donna couldn't help but cough to let out a little of her annoyance. “Donna, you have come too…”

“Yes, my lady... The jam,” you said kindly, glancing askance at the jealous lady in black and bringing the basket to Alcina.

The lady of the castle picked it up and looked inside with a satisfied smile.

“Good job, little bird,” she told you with a subtle, but terribly seductive gesture.

“Um, yeah, I...Okay, I'm leaving,” you said nervously, not wanting to prolong poor and insecure Donna's suffering any longer.

“Why are you such in a hurry?” Alcina asked mockingly. “It's raining heavily out there. I wouldn't want anything to happen to my favorite fruit supplier. Besides, Donna and I were going to have tea, weren't we?”

“Be careful about what you say, sister, (Y/N) is...” Angie hissed, pointing an accusing wooden finger at the lady in white, who raised her eyebrows.

“Angie, shut up,” Donna snapped.

“Yes, yes, shut up, you kind of talking furniture... The girls are already in the room, I'm sure you have a lot of things to talk to them about,” Alcina said, ignoring that curious threat that caused you to blush. “Anyway, will you come with me, ladies?”

The two of you walked in silence through the corridors of the castle. It wasn't the first time you stayed there drinking tea and avoiding Alcina's flirtation, but of course, Donna didn't know that.

“My lady, the tapestries you commissioned for,” a maid said, interrupting your walk, giving you an opportunity to ask Donna a question that made you tremble.

“Angie's not going to snitch, is she?” You whispered, getting closer to the lady in black, who was maintaining a stoic pose. She looked at you briefly and shook her head.

“No, you can be sure,” Donna whispered with that soft, hoarse voice that made your heart calm down.

“You're talking behind my back, huh?” Alcina interrupted, amused, making you both immediately stand at attention, comically shaking your head, serving only to make the tall lady laugh sinisterly.

That tea was strange. The sound of rain bounced against the glass while the clock on the wall emphasized your boredom. In another corner of the room, the Dimitrescu sisters' laughter with Angie bounced off the walls. You liked them, and you wouldn't have minded spending that time with them instead of sitting in silence over a cup of tea.

“Well, now I really have to go,” you said, finishing your cup in one gulp and getting up from the couch.

“Don't be stupid, (Y/N), it's still raining,” Alcina muttered, lighting a cigarette.

You looked at Donna looking for some complicity. Like every afternoon, your daily romantic dinner awaited.

“Yes, I... I'm leaving too,” the lady in black said, standing up next to you, earning you a curious and suspicious look from Alcina.

“What are you two up to?” She asked curiously, studying your trembling posture.

“Nothing,” you said in unison, sounding even more suspicious. Alcina stood up, approaching in an intimidating manner and leaning down to look at you closer, looking for something that would give you away. You knew that the lady of the castle was anything but naive.

“Then stop acting like you do and put your asses on the couch. No one leaves. The storm is getting worse and dangerous. I will tell the maids to make dinner. Tonight you will stay here.”

“But, but...” Donna murmured, nervous.

“No buts, Donna. If Mother Miranda finds out I left my youngest sister alone in such a terrible storm she will punish me by having to put up with that idiot Heisenberg at the next meeting. And as for you... (Y/N), I'm not going to put those delicious jams in danger.”

The two of you looked at each other and shrugged, sitting back down as the lady in white disappeared with an elegant step.

“I think she knows, Donna,” you murmured, eyes glued to the door.

“You think so?” She asked, getting closer, but keeping the distance, with that tone and that discreet look.

“If she doesn’t, what does that mean?” You insisted. She shrugged again.

“Well, so what if she knows?” Donna asked, with a slightly firmer tone. Of course, if Alcina suspected that there was something between you two, the shadow of Donna’s jealousy would disappear from her mind. It wasn't such a bad thing.

“You're jealous, huh?” You joked, giving your lover a nudge that startled her, making her shake the head in an exaggerated way.

“No,” she said dryly, giving herself away.

“Yes, yes, you are...” You hummed, moving closer.

“Stai zitto...” She murmured, crossing her arms, avoiding your gaze.

“You see? You've gotten nervous,”  you mocked, raising and lowering your eyebrows. She shook her head again.

“You make me nervous, (Y/N),” she protested, just before your little game was interrupted by an irritating porcelain puppet.

“Aren't we going home?” Angie asked, curiously.

“No, Angie. We'll stay here tonight,” her owner explained, still breathing hard from that conversation.

“Good!” The doll celebrated. “(Y/N), do you play poker?” She asked you, pulling at your clothes.

“Bet lei with a bunch of bloodsucking flies? What a plan...” You joked, standing up, but not before winking at your girlfriend, who shivered angrily at your teasing.

The three Dimitrescu sisters were… Curious. They may have seemed like three normal girls, but they weren't. They could terrify anyone. But fortunately, they always liked you and that gave you a certain sense of immunity.

Time passed and the coins went from one place to another on the old carpet. As if looking for a miracle, from time to time your head turned towards the window, hoping that it would stop raining. Luck did not smile on you in that regard.

“I'm bored...” Daniela Dimitrescu protested, plopping down on the sofa next to Donna, after having lost countless games.

“That's because you're a loser,” Bela, another of the sisters, murmured, studying her cards cautiously. You smiled knowingly.

“Cass, tell her something, she called me a loser again,” the girl protested, sitting upright and squeezing her fists.

“We can deny the truth, Dani. Don't you think so, (Y/N)?” The most serene of the three, Cassandra, told you. You smiled, but shook your head, placing your cards down.

“I prefer not to say anything. I like the blood running through my veins,” you joked, sighing, hoping again for a miracle so the rain would disappear. It didn’t do it.

“Let's play something different,” Daniela interrupted again.

“What?” You asked, studying the traps of your playmates. You knew that with them, it was impossible to win, but, to see how they tried to trick, amused you.

“Hide and seek?” Angie asked, excitedly, which made your body shake with terror. No, not again...

The young Dimitrescu's gaze was directed towards Donna, who was sewing calmly, without disturbing, as absent as ever. A sinister smile caught her attention as the girl approached her, wrapping her shoulders.

“Let's play to find a girlfriend for Aunt Donna,” Daniela said, without any shame. The lady in black stirred, trying to get out of her grasp without success.

“Oh, come on, Dani. Leave her alone,” Cassandra protested, shaking her head.

“It can be funny, don't you think?” The young Dimitrescu sang, looking at you in a funny way. You had to hold back your laughter.

“Yes, yes, a girlfriend... Doesn't that sound fun, (Y/N)?” Angie said in a dark voice, looking at you psychotically.

“Shut up, Angie,” you growled, trying not to let the rest to find out. The doll laughed irritatingly and ran to the lap of her owner, who was surely wishing that the earth would swallow her.

“If Aunt Donna wants to be alone, you have to respect that, Dani,” Bela said. “Don't you think, (Y/N)?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice trembling from the attack of laughter that threatened to give you away.

“But that's very boring!” Daniela shouted, shaking your girlfriend by her shoulders. “Wouldn't you like to have a girlfriend, Aunt Donna?”

“Um, I...” The lady in black stammered, crumpling the fabric she was sewing in her hands.

“Mother says that someone to warm your bed always comes in handy,” young vampire said the, making you have to cough to hide a laugh.

“Daniela!” The other two sisters screamed, annoyed by her sister's impudence.

“(Y/N), you were single, right?” The girl asked, approaching you and releasing poor Donna from her grasp.

“Me? Yes, I’m...” You whispered, starting to be uncomfortable in that situation.

“Oh... Interesting, come on,” Daniela said, pulling your wrist to get you up and dragging you to the couch and sitting next to the lady in black, who moved to get away from your body, which she didn't want to do.

“Aunt Donna, (Y/N). (Y/N), Aunt Donna,” Daniela said, pointing at you in a kind of strange introduction. “Come on, come on, shake your hands.”

With the black veil covering her face to know her expression was impossible, but the most sensible thing was to obey that curious order. You reached out your hand towards hers and shook it half-heartedly, noticing how poor Donna was already starting to sweat.

“Well, you know each other,” Daniela said, satisfied, nodding and sitting in an armchair in front of you.

“We already knew each other, Daniela,” you said amused, leaning back on the couch with a curious look.

“Did you? Well, This is even better,” she responded, putting her legs up on the couch and sitting down childishly.

“Daniela…. Leave them alone…” Bela protested. “Mother is going to be angry…”

“Shut up, you boring thing!” Her sister screeched in response. “Aunt Donna, did you know that (Y/N) makes some delicious jams?”

Donna looked at you and then nodded.

“I had heard something about it,” the doll maker whispered, with an almost imperceptible voice. The vampire smiled pleased at the answer and put on a thoughtful look.

“(Y/N), did you know that Donna cooks very well?” She asked you, making an indiscreet smile appear on your face, nodding slowly.

“I had heard something about it,” you whispered, imitating your lover's response, something that surely made her laugh behind that horrible veil.

“Well, it's clear isn't it? You know, jam, cooking... The two things together could be interesting,” Daniela commented, as if she really didn't know what she meant. She wasn't the best matchmaker, of course, but you had to admit this kind of game was pretty interesting.

“I guess so,” you said amused, glancing at the lady in black, who seemed more relaxed.

“Yes, yes, that's the spirit!” Daniela said satisfied, joining her hands.

“Daniela, you're going to...” Cassandra murmured.

The young woman ignored her sister's protests and continued looking at you curiously, looking for a way to get you to agree on something. In reality you did, you both loved each other madly.

Daniela got up from the armchair, pacing from side to side. The Angie doll had serious problems holding back her laughter, just like you. The young woman approached you, perching on the couch and holding your chin so you could look at the woman in black.

“Look, Donna. (Y/N) is a pretty girl, right?” She asked with a childish voice, seductive at the same time.

The lady in black stared at you for a moment, you assumed with that tender look, that look that made you fall completely in love with her.

“She is,” Donna whispered in a scandalously low volume, but perceptible to Daniela, who smiled widely, letting you free from her too-strong grip.

“Well, I... I have never seen Aunt Donna’s face. I don't know what she looks like, but Mother told me that...” The young Dimitrescu murmured confused by having to explain the beauty of Donna that you weren’t supposed to know.

“That's enough,” Bela said, getting up from the floor and dragging her sister away from the couch under your watchful gaze. “Dani, you already know that Aunt Donna is very sensitive, mother says that she can suffer a crisis if we are not careful with what we say.”

“It doesn't matter. It's okay,” Donna herself interrupted, to the astonishment and triumph of the two sisters.

You were also surprised by that reaction. You didn't think it was possible, but she seemed to be enjoying this curious conversation.

“I'm sure she's a beautiful woman... The most beautiful woman in the world...” You whispered tenderly, leaning towards Donna, who laughed shyly.

You couldn't see it, but you were sure that behind that black fabric, there were rosy cheeks.

“You see? You see? It's working,” Daniela said, with a tone of victory, curing her tongue mockingly at her sister, who rolled her eyes, lying down again on the floor next to Cassandra.

“The only thing that will work is mother's punishment when she finds out that you are playing with your aunt and the fruit girl,” Cassandra murmured, laughing amused.

Daniela protested by stamping her feet on the floor, but she immediately relaxed, turning towards you again.

“Don't call her fruit girl,” she protested, “She'll be your aunt too.”

You covered your mouth to hide your laughter and took advantage of that small moment of distraction to caress Donna's hand discreetly, which made her shiver and return the caress slowly, running a finger along the back of your hand.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say...” Cassandra whispered, listlessly.

“Oh, look Dani, look!” Angie shouted, pointing to your clasped hands, causing you to separate instantly. “How cute!”

“Damn devilish doll,” you hissed, embarrassed, even more when the young Dimitrescu's face lit up.

“Keep going, keep going, you were doing very well,” she commented happily, joining your hands again. “Wow, I must have an innate talent…”

“Yes, for the problems,” Bela murmured, shaking her head.

“They were caressing their hands!” Daniela shouted, hitting her sister on the head, who looked at her furiously.

“Angie, shut up now,” you growled at the puppet, who sat between you, swinging her legs. The doll just tilted her head, thus saying that she didn't plan to do it.

“They like each other, I'm sure,” Daniela protested, engaged in a ridiculous fight with her sister. “You’re envious.”

“Envious? Come down from the clouds, little sister,” Bela said, fighting with her sister in a comical way.

“What a mess we made, huh, darling?” You whispered to your girlfriend, who nodded in amusement while your hand rested on her cheek, underneath the black fabric.

“Stop that now!” Cassandra shouted, trying to separate the vampires.

“Fight, fight, fight!” Angie encouraged, paying more attention to the fight, and not to your discreet caresses.

“Girls!” A deep voice interrupted that chaos, Alcina. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing, mother,” they said agitatedly, standing at attention in front of her mother, but not before elbowing each other several times.

“Well... Ladies, dinner is served,” Alcina said elegantly, gesturing for you to get up.

Again, and followed by the three sisters and a couple of maids, you walked through the corridors, heading towards the dining room.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar voice asked, putting a hand on your shoulder. A maid, an old friend of yours surprised you, just when you were going to whisper something to your girlfriend.

“Mihaela, nice to see you,” you said with a smile, causing the lady in black to stop, turning around curiously.

“Yes, well, I've been in the castle for quite some time now and...” She began to explain, grabbing your arms affectionately, before a black cloud pounced on you.

“No, stay back!” Daniela screeched, as she materialized and pushed the maid out of your reach, sticking her tongue out at her. “Out, out, out,” she repeated, making the maid turn away, bow her head, and run away.

“Hey, she was my friend,” you protested, letting yourself be guided back to Donna, who was waiting patiently for you.

“No friends, (Y/N),” the young Dimitrescu said, taking your arm and wrapping it in that of the woman in black, who sighed... Satisfied?

“How good it has been for you,” You joked, without letting her arm go, walking in front of Daniela, who was watching you tirelessly.

“Who was that cagna?” She asked hatefully, whispering with a clenched fist. Jealousy again.

“A friend, Donna. She was my best friend for a while,” you explained, trying to make your words only audible to her. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Well, ladies, take a seat,” Alcina said, spreading her arms on the dining room table.

“Here, here (Y/N)!”Daniela screamed, gesturing for you to go over there, right to the chair next to Donna’s, how predictable.

With a comically chivalrous gesture, the young Dimitrescu sat you in the chair, under the furious and attentive gaze of her sisters.

The dinner was silent, despite Daniela's continuous glances, as she sat mysteriously in front of you, studying each of your gestures.

“Lady Dimitrescu, would you be so kind as to bring me the wine?” You asked kindly. As the lady nodded and grabbed the bottle, the rebellious hand of her daughter interrupted her.

“Wait, mother,” Daniela said, offering the wine to Donna. “Come on, Aunt Donna, (Y/N) wants more wine.”

Alcina looked at her with a frown as the lady in black, with trembling hands, poured some wine into your glass.

“Thank you, doll face...” You whispered, making the bottle almost slip through her sweaty hands.

“What are you playing now, Daniela?” The lady of the castle asked, oblivious to the hand that slid under the table, your hand in Donna's, calming her nerves with soft caresses.

“Aunt Donna and (Y/N) like each other, mother. I think that thanks to me they can be…” the young vampire explained, which caused a laugh from her sister Cassandra.

“Oh, is it true?” The lady asked in a dark voice, as if somehow your suspicions were true and she had known about you for a long time, which was quite likely.

“It's Daniela, mother, she's been bothering Aunt Donna and (Y/N) all the time,” Bela complained, with a look of superiority.

“I haven't bothered them, I'm sure they'll fall in love,” Daniela said, getting up from the table. Alcina continued watching you in a funny way.

“What stupid things my girls say, right, ladies?” Alcina asked in a soft voice, with that sinister smile.

“Yes, yes...” Donna murmured, not letting your hand go under the table.

Finally, and after an uncomfortable and funny dinner at the same time, it was time to sleep. The storm had not let up all the time, the idea of ​​​​spending a night, perhaps a special one with Donna had long since disappeared from your head.

“There, (Y/N), you will stay in that bedroom. Surely inside you will find something to wear,” the lady of the castle told you, opening the door of an old room.

“Thank you, my lady,” you said kindly, wanting to get into bed and forget that day, well, think about that day.

“Donna, you'll stay in this one, okay?” The lady in white murmured, opening the door in front of yours.

Your girlfriend nodded slowly.

“Do me a favor, ladies...” Alcina murmured, walking slowly, turning to look at you over her shoulder. “Don't make too much noise, I'm a light sleeper.”

“What?” You asked when the lady turned the corner.

“She knows, now I'm sure,” Donna said, nervously playing with her hands.

“Well, it doesn't matter,” you said, gently grabbing them, playing with them, getting closer to her.

“What a day, huh?” You joked, passing your hand under her veil, caressing her hot cheek from due to the blush. She nodded, linking her hand to yours.

“Maybe we should tell everyone,” she commented.

“Yes, maybe, before Daniela undresses us and puts us in a bed,” you joked, making Donna step back, overwhelmed by that insinuation.

“Well, I hope that doesn't happen,” she stammered, revealing her nervousness about the step you had not yet taken in your relationship.

“Do you? Well, I partly wish so...” You whispered seductively, lifting her veil and kissing her tenderly on the lips. “Anyway, good night, Donna.”

“Good night.”

You got into bed going over the events of the day. The lightning illuminated the room and the rain from the glass accentuated how sinister it was to be in that castle. You smiled, amused by Daniela's attitude towards you. According to Donna, she had been doing that kind of things for a while.

A noise at the door, a few silent knocks, caught your attention, causing your heart to beat quickly, scared.

“(Y/N), open the door, it's me,” the unmistakable accent and the softness of Donna's voice sent a flow of relief to your body, making you discreetly open it so the lady in black could pass by, already with her hair down and a kind of sleeping dress.

“What are you doing here at this hour, miss?” You asked amused, hanging on to her neck and attacking her mercilessly with your kisses. She laughed gasping for your tireless kisses, for all those kisses you would have given her if it weren't for that stupid storm.

“I wanted to see you,” Donna explained, pulling you onto the bed and getting into it.

“See me? What's wrong, are you cold?” You asked jokingly, joining her under her covers.

“My life is very cold without you,” she whispered affectionately, being the one who kissed you at that moment, enjoying the warmth of your bodies under the sheets.

“Mmm,” you purred, moved by her almost sickly romanticism. “Say it again, but in Italian...” she asked playfully. Donna laughed and leaned closer to your ear.

“La mia vita è molto fredda senza di te,” she whispered in your ear, making you suppress a moan at those seductive words.

“Do it again,” you asked amused, kissing her neck and causing her shyness to come to light with small laughs that you imagined weren't so scandalous.

“La mia...” She couldn't finish the sentence as your kisses attacked her again, turning that old room in the castle into a hot and lustful, anxious and hungry environment.

“Wait, (Y/N),” she said, catching her breath when your playful hands lifted her dress, letting it fall next to yours. “Our first time can't be... Here.”

“Why not?” You asked, running your hands along her bare back, also getting rid of her bra. Donna didn't seem to mind.

“It would have to be special,” she said, playing with yours, sending it flying, unable to suppress her desire.

“A huge castle under the light of lightning is not special enough?” You asked, running your hands over her chest, continuing to caress her. Her smile was all you needed to continue.

After a few gasps, rolling around fighting for supremacy in that small bed, something made you stop.

“What's happening?” Donna asked, looking around her, nervous.

“I think, I think I’ve heard...” You whispered, getting off your lover and turning on the small light on your table.

“Gotcha!” Daniela Dimitrescu rushed to the bed with a cloud of flies, making you both cover yourself, especially Donna.

“What the hell...?” You asked, pulling the sheets to cover your nakedness while Daniela looked for clues throughout the room, grabbing a black bra from the floor, one that wasn't yours.

“What does this mean, (Y/N)?” Daniela said, with an accusatory tone, throwing the garment in your face with contempt.

“Wait, let me...”

“No! I spent the afternoon making you and my aunt fall in love! And what do you do? To get into bed with a whore maid,” She said furiously, clenching her fists on both sides of her waist.

“I think you're wrong,” you said with relative calm, inevitably smiling.

“I'm thinking of telling Donna. You're going to make her cry and you'll pay for that,” Daniela said before leaving the room, making your girlfriend leave her hiding place and peek out of the sheets, sitting next to you.

“Daniela, wait,” she said with a broken, but confident voice.

“Don't dare to give orders to me, you bitch! You're going to...” The vampire squealed, stamping her feet on the ground until she got a good look at your companion. “Aunt Donna… Is that you?”

She nodded, searching for her black veil, forgetting that she hadn't brought it.

“Wow... You are more beautiful than mother had told us,” Daniela whispered, approaching and sitting on the bed, embarrassingly close to your naked bodies.

“There is no maid,” you said, covering your girlfriend better, who was trembling because of her nerves.

Daniela’s shocked face changed to one of happiness, hugging you both awkwardly.

“I knew! I knew it would work!” She screamed, squeezing you tightly. “You'll see when I tell my sisters, they're going to be tired of apologizing,” she said triumphantly, separating to your relief and walking towards the door. “I’m the best. Knock knock, who is it? The best couple creator in history, the infallible, the only, the inimitable Daniela...”

Her words were lost as she walked out of the room, still flattering herself.

“Um... Maybe we should tell her that...” You said amused, scratching the back of your neck.

“She seems happy,” Donna said, resting her head on your shoulder, forgetting about that embarrassing moment.

“You're right. Let's let her enjoy her victory. Besides, tomorrow is a hard day. You'll have to help me with the move, my dear Donna...”