#credits to my friend coming up with this after i told her i fell into a lake today

[percy-the-diet-coke]

ZEUS: MY DAUGHTER FELL INTO A LAKE YOU FUCKING KELP

POSEIDON: HOW IS THAT MY FAULT YOU WHORE?

ZEUS: LAKES ARE YOUR THING OFC ITS YOUR FAULT HOW DARE YOU

POSEIDON: BITCH GO FUCK A TREE LEAVE ME ALONE

HADES: Persephone darling the clowns are fighting again dear

[ozzgin]

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

[tonowarii]

That One's Mine

Pairing: Ao'nung x Fem! Metkayina! Reader x Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Requested?: Yes

Summary: Growing up with Ao'nung, his parents and yours had eventually promised you to each other. Now training under Ronal to become tsahik, unexpected events occur when the family of Toruk Makto arrive.

Word count: 3.5k

Warning/s: slight atwow spoilers if you squint, jealous aonung, violence, fluff, this time neteyam being a skxawng (jk)

Note: Likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are most welcome and appreciated! Let me know your thoughts!

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

“Catch me if you can!” A little Aonung laughs, followed by your cousin, Rotxo who adds “We can run faster than your little legs!”

“No, you can’t!” Little you said, catching speed towards them.

Your parents alongside Tonowari and Ronal watched. “Look at them.” Your mother cooed to Ronal, her best friend as you finally caught up to Aonung and Rotxo a little too harsh, sending the three of you stumbling onto the sand.

Both mothers laughed at their children. Your father and Tonowari looked at each other with a content look on their faces.

As the years progressed, all of you grew into fine hunters, particularly you and Aonung had gotten close.

Your parents could tell there was this unspoken bond between the two of you, not long after his parents began noticing it too. Not long enough, they therefore decided that the two of you were fated together.

That Ao’nung in the future would be the olo’ekytan, with you by his side as tsahik. A mated pair before Eywa and their people.

But that was still a long time coming, as the two had accomplished their rite of passage, the two has yet to decide when they would be mates.

It still baffled you that you and Aonung would become a mated pair in the future, and now Ronal had taken you under her wing to be a tsakarem just like Tsireya.

“Now this way.” Ronal was teaching the two of you. You and Tsireya looked at each other before following her.

You were glad that you and Tsireya were able to become close due to always spending the time together learning.

After finishing your lesson for the day, you and Tsireya bid goodbye to Ronal with a smile on your faces.

“We’re just going out, mother.” Tsireya laughs.

Ronal gives the two of you her rare smiles, she could very well remember your mother and her being like that in the past. “Go, keep safe.”

Leaving the Marui, you were greeted with the afternoon sky. You gave a stretch and a yawn. Tsireya breathes in the air. “I still can’t believe you’re going to be my sister-in-law soon!” She gushed, making you snap your mouth shut and blush.

“Tsireyaaaa…” You whine, you hated when she always teased you about her brother, not in a negative way, it was more like a stop-teasing-because-I-will-literally-combust-into-butterflies way.

“You better not be messing with her, sister.”

“And speaking of.” Tsireya said, looking up to meet his brother. “- And no, I am not! I’m just telling how happy we’ll be if—” You covered her mouth, not facing Aonung, who was standing behind you.

He raises an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Happy if?”

“Happy if- uh...” You thought. Tsireya then takes your hand off her mouth and spoke.

“Happy if you’d finally make her a part of the family!”

You scrunch your face, closing your eyes shut as heat seeped through your cheeks, turning a shade darker.

Instantly, you felt Aonung’s hand snake to your arm, going to your shoulder, gently turning you around to meet him.

You open your eyes and the first thing you see is that stupid smirk on his face that you fell in love with.

“Seems like they can’t wait, can they?” He teased.

“Tsireya I told y-“ You turned to face her, Aonung’s hand still on your shoulder but Tsireya was already skipping away from the two of you.

You sigh rather loudly, facing him.

“You not happy to see me anymore?” Ao’nung tilts his head, looking down at you. Your pout turns into a playful smile as you playfully shoved his chest.

Aonung laughs, pulling you close as he wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you started walking side by side.

“It feels like everyone’s expecting us to be mated already.” You started the conversation. Aonung turns his head to you, before he looks out the horizon.

“Mother has been asking about it too.” He replied. You turn to him, studying his features as he looked in front of him.

You blink.

“You should hear my mother instead, asking me if you had already asked me, considering the number of gifts you’ve given me.” You could feel Aonung chuckle as you leaned onto his side.

His arms gave a comforting squeeze. “You know I’ll always wait for you.” Aonung wasn’t one to push, he knew you’ll give him your answer when you were ready.

For now, the two of you were just enjoying being young, being together.

But you felt guilty, sure you had all the time in the world, but you could not keep him waiting even if he constantly reassures you. You were lucky to have someone as patient and loyal as him.

“Besides, it’s not like you could do anything about it, you’re stuck with me.” Aonung jokes with a smirk, his arm now going to wrap around your shoulder as he gives a subtle feather-light kiss on the side of your temple.

You blush with a laugh. “Being stuck with the olo’eyktan’s finest hunter… who would’ve thought?”

“Hmm, I guess little you did.” He responds. “But little me thinks he’s luckier having this beautiful girl beside him, the girl who captured his heart and trapped it with hers.”

“Oh, you can be quite the dramatic.” You say as the two of you walked along the shore.

“Not dramatic if it is true.”

There you go again, blushing for the nth time within minutes of being with him. It instantly made your day better.

But both of your fun had to end as eclipse set. Aonung was now walking you towards your marui.

Reaching the destination and entering, you were greeted by your mother and father. But your mother looked like she was happier to see Aonung.

“Aonung, my son! How are you?” Your mother greeted him and Aonung smiles.

“I am good ma, I just thought I’d walk (Y/N) back here, to make sure she gets home safe.”

Your mother instantly cooes, thanking him. Your father seemed to be also pleased by Aonung’s presence as he gives him a nod to which Aonung bowed to.

“Mom, Aonung has to go home now, look how dark it is outside.” You say, placing a hand on your mother as you looked out.

“Oh, imagine it, soon the two of you will be finally sharing your own marui, you’d no longer have to worry about each other going home separately.”

The thought sent you and Aonung looking at each other as Aonung sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mom!” You say.

Finally, your mother gives in an bids goodbye to Aonung as she returned to her spot.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked.

“Of course, goodnight.” You smiled.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ઇଓ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The following weeks ran smoothly.

However, today was something you’d never expect to happen.

You were on your ilu, carrying your bag filled with freshly plucked shellfish on your way to the shore when screeching sounded.

You had commanded your ilu to stop when you looked up.

Knitting your brows, you find a couple of mountain banshees approaching. It had you thinking, there wasn’t any news from the Omatikaya clan that they would be coming today?

And weirdly enough, why would they need five of them if they were only to send a message?

You watched as they circled around, more people noticing as they yelped at them. Soon, everyone was gathering around the shore.

Instantly you saw Tsireya on her ilu as well. Deciding to approach her, she notices you and speaks. “What do you think they’re doing here?”

“I don’t know…” You respond.

Then they landed.

You and Tsireya looked at each other. “Come, let’s see!” Tsireya says curiously, already had her ilu moving. You followed.

As the crowd formed around them, you and Tsireya had reached the shore, dismounting and walking towards them curiously.

To your surprise, you already see Aonung and Rotxo, who was having too much fun in making fun of their tails.

You walked behind Tsireya as she slaps Rotxo on the arm, making you chuckle. “Do not. Rotxo, Aonung.”

Finally looking to see your visitors, it had taken you by surprise. They were blue, their arms where thin and long, and their tails was… small compared to yours. They had striking eyes that had a mix of yellow and green in them.

“Hey.” You hear one of them speak beside the other teenage boy, you could see him looking at Tsireya, making the two of you giggle.

Though you also feel the other boy’s eyes on you as you looked to confirm your suspicions. He was, indeed, looking at you.

He flashes you a friendly smile and you smiled back at him.

Little did you know Aonung watched the interaction, sending him glaring daggers at the back of the poor boy’s head as he tapped Rotxo on the side, muttering things under his breath.

As the olo’eyktan and tsahik arrived, Aonung and Tsireya walked to get beside their parents while you followed behind them with your cousin, Rotxo.

You watched the whole scene play out as Ronal circled them, pointing out their appearance, to when Tonowari granted them to stay.

“My son Aonung and our daughter Tsireya will show your children what to do.” Tonowari spoke.

Instantly, your eyes shift to Aonung who stepped forward to speak out to his father.

“Father, why—”

“It has been decided.”

Tsireya offers them a gentle smile, before looking back at you and pulling onto your hand to drag you with her.

Aonung notices this of course, and he has a sour look on his face as he watches the two of you.

“Come! We will show you our village.”

The crowd dispersed as Toruk Makto’s family had gathered their belongings. You were standing beside Tsireya. Honestly, curiosity was gnawing at you, and you were thankful Tsireya had dragged you with her.

You watched them as they carried their stuff, and you already feel the same pair of eyes looking at you as you talked with Tsireya. You gripped on your bag a little tightly as you looked at them.

“We’ll help you with that.” Tsireya says, grabbing a few bags off of Neytiri as she thanked her, while you had chosen to help the boy from earlier, seeing that he has a lot to hold on to.

“I can take it, here.” You approach him, grabbing a few bags and a roll of mat off him before he had a chance to refuse.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing he said to you.

Now making your way to their newly assigned marui, the boy had introduced himself to you.

“Hi, thank you again for carrying our stuff… you didn’t have to.” He says from behind you, you slow your footsteps to have him walk beside you. “It’s the least we could do, this is going to be your new home after all.”

He pauses, his mouth opening and closing as he walked with you. “I am Neteyam.”

Neteyam? Hmm.

“(Y/N). It is nice to meet you, Neteyam.” You reply.

“(Y/N)… nice.”

“Hm?” You look at him. “I mean it is nice to meet you.” He clears his words.

Aonung and Rotxo watched behind all of you, specifically, Aonung’s eyes were targeted on the boy beside you as he strikes up a conversation.

“Just up here.” Tsireya announces.

Reaching the newly made marui, you had left the boy to walk besides Tsireya, placing their bags down.

“This is for you, your new home.” She spoke.

“This is nice, right?” Jake Sully had said, in turn, you flinch as the noise of the mat being carried by Neytiri had dropped as everyone turned to look at her.

“We will leave you guys to get settled.” You say, placing your hands together with a small smile.

“We will teach you starting tomorrow, but for now I hope you all get some rest.” Tsireya announced.

Walking away, you smirked and nudged Tsireya on the side “That boy couldn’t take his eyes off you.” You teased her. Tsireya giggles, rolling her eyes. “You had that one boy staring at you too.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, you and Tsireya walking side by side laughing to yourselves.

Rotxo and Aonung watched from the side as the two of you laughed and giggled like little kids. It struck his nerves, what were the two of you laughing about? He sighs, patting Rotxo on the side to go and do their own pending tasks.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ઇଓ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The day started bright and early, it just had been about every other day before, but this time you had begun to teach Jake Sully’s kids.

Already diving in the water, you felt the cool water envelop you as you swam, your tail swishing to propel you further. You swam around coral reefs and among the fishes, Aonung following close by.

You stop and looked behind you to see the siblings on the surface. They glanced down and you could see Tsireya signing them to come swim with you.

Aonung stopped as well, looking at you to find you looking at them, while Rotxo, from beside him, looked at them too.

As they dove back down, you smile and continue swimming around. But they had to come up for air again as the four of you saw them reaching to the surface.

All of you looked at each other.

‘What’s wrong with them?’ Aonung signed.

‘They are bad divers’ Rotxo replied to him.

‘Stop that’ you signed back. ‘They’re learning’ Tsireya added.

Aonung rolled his eyes but watched as Rotxo and Tsireya swam up.

You swim towards him, tilting your head. ‘Give them a chance’ you signed. ‘Come on let’s go up’ You added.

Both of you swam to the surface beside one another.

You were about to talk when Aonung began “You are not good divers, maybe good at swimming through trees—”

Turning towards him, you give him a light smack on the shoulder, making his smirk drop as he looks at you with a ‘What was that for?’ look.

“Come on, bro.” The other sibling, who you learned was Lo’ak, said.

“We don’t speak this… finger talk you guys. We don’t know what you’re saying.” Neteyam said.

“We will teach you.” You say, Aonung looks at you before looking back at them.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ઇଓ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After a few weeks, Aonung could notice the way Neteyam was always on you. And it was getting on his nerves. You, however, seemed clueless about it.

There were times when all of you were teaching them sign language, and when he failed to get it right, you’d assist him by having your hands on his. And with the way that the forest boy blushed had Aonung feeling annoyed.

He wanted to send a sign that you were already taken, that you were his. But at the same time, he didn’t want to cause trouble if it included you.

So, he settled on subtle ways.

He’d always make sure he was a little too close to you. He would then randomly talk to you, leaning his face closer to yours whenever they were around.

And he would be sure to often grab your arm or hand a few times to grab your attention from them.

But you weren’t noticing these things he was doing. It made you blush and smile, sure, but you didn’t know their true intentions. It made him look jealous, because he was. You were his, why can’t he see that?

Even though when you both had free time you were always being pulled away from him by the Sully’s, even Tsireya for Eywa’s sake! What has gotten into you two?

Even more, his actions didn’t even seem to stop Neteyam from staring at you and taking the chance to talk with you when he wasn’t around.

“These are ilu. If you want to live here, you have to ride.” Aonung says, introducing the ilu’s to the Sully kids.

You were there, standing, watching Aonung with love in your eyes, with the way he was acting the past few weeks had you feeling fuzzy.

Although you missed hanging out with him, considering you were always being pulled aside by Neteyam or even both you and Tsireya were being pulled aside by both Neteyam and Lo’ak.

At first it was asking for advice, then they started asking questions about yourselves and so on. You hadn’t really given it much thought until Tsireya bought it up one afternoon.

After finishing the lesson, you and Tsireya were walking back to the village. “(Y/N), have you noticed the way Neteyam has been giving you heart eyes this whole time?”

You stopped, looking at her. “Wait- What?”

“My Eywa, you haven’t noticed?” Tsireya gasps, looking at you. “No- what? I thought he was just wanting to make friends.”

“More than friends.” Tsireya corrected, laughing. You thought back, and it did seem so.

“And!” Tsireya says, grabbing onto your arm. “You should see the look on Aonung’s face everytime he comes across Neteyam… or Lo’ak too for that matter…” Tsireya concluded. “It looks like he really hates them.”

Then you connected the dots. Maybe that’s why Aonung was being clingy than before. He was jealous. He was almost subtly marking you as his, that you were taken.

Helping them get on their ilu’s you watched Lo’ak speed off with his ilu, before letting go, sending him tumbling onto the water.

Aonung laughed beside you as you chuckled yourself. You then watched Neteyam carefully guiding his ilu around, with a smile on his face.

You feel an arm snake around your waist, looking up, you still see Aonung teasing Lo’ak. You smile to yourself at Aonung’s actions.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ઇଓ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Then Aonung had enough.

“Back off. Now.” Neteyam pointed at Aonung’s chest as Aonung had decided to pick on his sister, Kiri, for being a freak.

Aonung still hadn’t settled on accepting the Sully family as their own, he was being stubborn, and now this is where it got him.

Aonung only smirked at him, walking forward as Neteyam’s finger pressed even further on his chest.

“Then why won’t you back off my mate, huh?” He taunted. Although you weren’t mates yet, he just had to do something to make Neteyam stop his moves on you.

Neteyam looked confused as he dropped the accusatory finger from his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Skxawng, I’m talking about (Y/N). She doesn’t want anything to do with you.” He shoved his chest back, making Neteyam stumble as Lo’ak intervened.

“We didn’t know, bro—”

“Maybe this will let you know.” Aonung said, shoving Neteyam strongly this time. But Neteyam didn’t back down as a fight began to break out between Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Aonung’s gang.

Tsireya and you were just walking when you began to hear a commotion.

“The forest people and Aonung are fighting!” You heard one say.

Forest people… Aonung?

Quickly looking at each other, you and Tsireya broke off into a sprint to head towards them.

“Aonung!” You said as the scene of Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Aonung and his friends were fighting welcomed your eyes.

The other people pulled Neteyam and Lo’ak out while Rotxo held Aonung back.

“What’s happening?” Tsireya asked.

“Stay away.” Aonung said, pointing at Neteyam.

Your eyes widen, seeing a large bruise already forming on Aonung’s cheek as his bottom lip was busted open. You rushed towards him, cupping his cheek.

“Eywa give me strength…. What did you do?” You say frantically.

You looked towards Neteyam and Lo’ak, then back at Aonung.

Neteyam saw how your face formed in worry as you rushed to Aonung’s aid. What Aonung said was true. You were with him and he was too dumb to see that. It made his chest ache, but he knew he was in the wrong. You were only helping him out.

And that’s when the Sully brothers heard the voice of their father.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ઇଓ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After that, the tension had died down. Neteyam and Aonung were able to set their differences, they became friends as well as with Lo’ak and their siblings.

Now you and Aonung were sat a rocky shore as you recalled what happened.

“So, you really said I was your mate already?” You laugh.

“I- kinda… yeah.” Aonung sighs in defeat, and in embarrassment. “I figured saying that might finally knock some sense into him.”

“Mhm even though we’re not mates.”

“I know, I’m sorry for—”

“But I guess we can change that, can we?” You smile up at him.

Aonung then snaps his gaze back to you, confusion etched all over him.

“What do you mean?”

Pulling him to peck his lips, you held his cheeks.

“Aonung, I am more than happy to become your mate.”

And the wide smile that crossed his lips was truly a sight to see.

[muchosbesitos]

forbidden

pairing: brother’s best friend miguel x fem reader

warnings: reader and miguel don’t rly get along, masturbation (f)

author’s note: thank you for all the love on el arreglo and all the other fics <33 hope you all enjoy this one :D

You were running around the house with a My Little Pony Rarity doll in hand, stopping only when you heard your name coming from your brother's room. "I just don't get why your little sister has to join us every time we're playing," you heard your brother's best friend's voice coming through the door, his tone clipped and annoyed. "C'mon Miguel, you know she doesn't have any friends. Can't you try to be nice to her?" Your brother replied, his voice hushed as he spoke. You gripped the figure in your hands as your knuckles started to turn white, feeling angry for thinking that they wanted to be friends, for being seen as nothing more than a charity case. "Fine, but that doesn't mean I have to like that little twerp."

Even though a decade had passed since you overheard that conversation, you and Miguel had never really gotten along after that. Nothing more than just the cordial "hello" and the acknowledgment of each other's existence, just enough out of respect to not make things awkward for your brother. You weren't sure what you did to make Miguel so pestered by your presence, but you'd given up on trying to figure that out. He regarded your friends and the previous partners that you brought home with the same disapproving scowl he reserved just for you.

"I need to talk to you after class," your professor spoke up, snapping you out of your thoughts as you packed your laptop inside your backpack. As you put your physics textbook away, you couldn't help but worry about what he could possibly have to say. Sure, you hadn't done so well in the past.. couple tests but your grade couldn't be that bad, right? "You have a twenty in my class. I'm letting you retake the assessments and assignments you got a failing grade in but I would strongly suggest that you get a tutor," your professor told you once you walked over to his desk, putting his glasses down. Even though you felt incredibly grateful that your professor was giving you a second chance with these assignments, you still couldn't help but feel embarrassed about your grade. "Thank you, I will," you mumbled, walking out of the class as you racked your brain for anyone who would be up for tutoring.

You got back to the apartment you shared with your brother, walking into his room and throwing yourself on his bed. "I know knocking's an outdated concept, but can we bring it back?" Your brother said, not bothering to look up from his computer monitor as you rolled your eyes. "I'm having a crisis, I don't have time for knocking. Do you know where I could find a physics tutor quick?" You replied, looking from the mattress over where he was sitting. You watched as he nibbled on his bottom lip, a tick that he had whenever it was something you wouldn't like. His response, however, wasn't something you were expecting and just the thought was making you want to gauge your eyes out.

"Miguel actually took that class last semester. He got the highest grade in the class."

"Do you think you could ask him for me?"

"Why can't you ask?"

"I just think he'll respond better if it's coming from you, his best friend and all. Please."

However, even with your begging, your brother refused to help you since he thought you should ask him yourself. What a load of bullshit. You were too proud to put your ego aside and ask Miguel for help, so you resorted to seeking a tutor through a study group. Your tutor wasn't exactly the best person to work with, given the fact that he had struggled with the subject last semester and was only doing this study group for extra credit. Your grades weren't increasing in the slightest and you found yourself staying late at the library to study.

You didn't realize you fell asleep until you heard some knocking on the table, hastily wiping away the drool at the corner of your mouth. You rubbed your eyes, looking up to see Miguel staring at you. "What time is it?" You asked, stretching your arms as you tried to get the blood flowing again. "Seven. Your brother's worried since you haven't been at the dorm at all today," he replied, sitting on the opposite side of the table as he picked up your textbook. "You're struggling with physics? You should've asked me for help," he said after a while, putting your textbook back down as he looked at you. "I actually have someone else tutoring me," you replied with a small shrug, still not willing to admit defeat.

Miguel shook his head as he scoffed, folding his arms. "Se ve que está haciendo buen trabajo. That's why you're overcompensating for his bad teaching?" He remarked, letting out a dry chuckle. (you can tell he's doing a good job) You were about to say something else but he stopped you when he started to speak again. "Para de actuar como una pendeja y deja que te ayude," he said, much to your surprise that he was offering to help. (stop acting like a dumbass and let me help you) Even though you needed his help desperately, you weren't gonna let him call you a dumbass. "Aqui el pendejo sos vos si crees que hablandome asi te voy a recibir ayuda," you remarked, watching a small smirk form on his face. (the dumbass here is you if you think i'm receiving your help with you talking to me like that) "Fine, sorry. Pero yo te puedo ayudar mas que ese idiota," he offered as a rebuttal, leaning against the table slightly. (but i can help you more than that idiot) "Ay okay. Tampoco te pongas a rogar, Miguelito." (don't start to beg)

Which is how you found yourself waiting in the library for Miguel to arrive, tapping on the table with your pen. Your leg shook as five minutes turned to ten, soon enough to fifteen. You rubbed your eyes, packing up your stuff in your bag when Miguel arrived at the table. "Nice of you to show up," you mumbled, taking your stuff out of your bag as you saw him roll his eyes from the corner of your eye. "My time doesn't revolve around you," he responded, taking out his own textbook. "It may not revolve around me but you could at least bother showing up on time," you replied, your book slamming on the desk as you took it out of your backpack. "Vamos a pelear o a estudiar, niñita?" He asked, arching a brow as he opened up the book. (are we going to fight or study little girl?) "I don't see why we can't do both."

"So what do you need help with?" Miguel asked after a couple minutes, taking out his old notebook out of his backpack. "All of it?" You replied, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly as you looked away, feeling embarrassed. "Por Dios. Okay, so we'll just build on what you know and start moving from there," he said after a couple of minutes of watching you try to narrow down what you needed the most help with. At the end of the study session, you didn't find yourself completely hating the experience. Sure, Miguel could be annoying and cocky, but he was also patient in the way he taught you and elaborate with his explanations. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You and Miguel continued to study at the library over the course of a few weeks and your physics grade had seen a vast improvement since you started. "I know you don't exactly like me, so I appreciate you taking the time to tutor me," you told Miguel after your most recent tutoring session had ended, looking over at him with a small smile on your face. He didn't say anything, just simply nodded, before packing up the textbook in his backpack. "I'll work up a study guide and review for your midterm, okay?" He said after you were finished up packing, holding the library door open for you. "I'd appreciate that, thanks," you replied, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you walked out of the library. The walk to the parking lot was mostly silent, until Miguel spoke up once you got to your car.

"Your brother and I are going to this party later if you wanted to come with us. You probably won't know anyone there but they're chill people," he offered, looking over at you with a ghost of a smile on his face. You placed your hand on your chin, pretending to think about it as you looked over at Miguel. “I'll see if i can make it. I have a pretty strict physics teacher," you replied, getting into your car and drove off to the apartment. Even though you'd given Miguel a vague answer, you were planning on going now that he'd invited you, wanting to see more of him that didn't involve the velocity equation.

As soon as you got home, you decided to get in the shower in order to get enough time to get dressed and do your makeup. After you stepped out of the shower, you opted for a red skin tight dress that went down to your thighs. "Which shirt do you think would look better on me?" Your brother asked when you were finished getting dressed, holding up almost two identical black shirts. "The one on the left?" You answered tentatively, watching as your brother's gaze went to the shirts. "You are no help whatsoever," he groaned, throwing the shirts on the bed. "Why are you so worried about what you're gonna wear?" You asked, sitting at your vanity as you started to put on a false pair of lashes on. “Katie Jenkins is supposed to be at the party so I'm trying to look presentable," he responded, referring to one of the cheerleaders, opting to put on the shirt you suggested. You turned around, facing your brother once he'd gotten ready as you smiled a bit. "She'd be an idiot not to like that shade of black."

You and your brother arrived at the party a couple minutes later, and he immediately left your side to see if he could get Katie Jenkins. As you looked around the party you came to the realization that Miguel was right, you didn't know anybody and despite the fact that everyone looked relaxed, you didn't trust your social skills to just go up to someone and start up a conversation. You went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from a blue cooler and sat down on the couch as you scrolled through your phone.

"You know, the whole point of a party is to socialize," you heard someone say, looking up to see Miguel with a smug look on his face. "Some might say that it's to get free booze," you remarked, scooting over on the couch as you took a sip from the bottle. Miguel spread his legs on the couch as he sat down, the angle highlighting his thick thighs perfectly. You almost choked on your beer as you looked away, hoping that he didn't catch you staring. "So, I was wondering if I could ask you a question," he started, looking over at you as you set down your beer bottle on the coffee table in front of you. "That's a question in itself, no?"

Miguel rolled his eyes as he cleared his throat, getting ready to ask you the question. "I guess I just wanted to know why you said that I didn't like you earlier. Where'd you get the idea that I hated you?" He simply stated, looking over at you as your brows furrowed. "You've never given me any signs that you even tolerate me. And I don't know, probably the way you look at me and the people I choose to hang out with? Or the fact that you choose to acknowledge me last when we're in a room full of people," you reply, grabbing your beer bottle since you had a feeling you might need alcohol for the rest of this conversation. "I look at the people you hang out with like that because I'm jealous," he replied, his hand lingering on the back of the couch as you set your beer bottle down. "Jealous of what?"

Before Miguel got the chance to respond, someone blurted out "Seven Minutes in Heaven!" and it completely interrupted his flow of thought. You got up from the couch, opting to play the game just for the sake of trying to meet someone new. The game started off fairly slow, your brother getting the opportunity to go inside with Katie. He came out with his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen, following Katie around like a lost puppy. You decided to scroll through your phone while you waited for your turn, looking through Tiktoks and Instagram. A couple turns had passed until your name had been called, but the person going in with you made your heart drop.

Your name and Miguel’s had been called out to head into the closet and you felt your palms grow clammy at the thought of being in an enclosed space for that long with him. You decided to put your fears aside for the sake of the game, or at least for the sake of your ego since you didn't want to get called a chicken by people you hardly knew, and stood up. You two went inside the closet, sitting down in the dark as you felt your cheeks grow heated at how intoxicating his cologne was up close. "To answer your question, I got jealous of the way that they got to be with you. With your romantic partners, mostly. That they got to have you in a way that I never did," he spoke up after a while, his gaze practically burning into you even in the dark.

You felt your hands grow clammier as you thought about what he said, your heartbeat practically booming in your ears. "But what about all those girls you dated? You always seemed to be happy with them," you asked, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. Miguel reached up, turning on the closet lamp as he looked at you. "I never dated anyone. Not seriously, anyways. They were more of a distraction.. from the fact that I shouldn't feel this way towards you," he replied, one hand on your cheek as he tilted your chin towards his. Even though you were starting to get a pretty good idea of what feelings he was talking about, you still wanted him to admit it to you. "And how do you feel towards me?" You asked, looking up at him as you saw his gaze soften the tiniest bit. "I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with that it tormented me going to the apartment when you were dating someone, but not being able to do anything out of respect for your brother. You're constantly running through my mind, it's insane," he said with a small chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

You're not sure who initiated the kiss, but you were certain that you didn't want it to stop. His lips felt like they were molded just to kiss yours, the taste of him overwhelming just like everything else. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer to him like he was trying to get as much as possible while your hands intertwined themselves in his hair. The only sounds in the closet were those of your lips colliding and your shared heavy breaths. You let out a soft moan and tugged on his hair as you felt him nibble on your bottom lip gently, soothing the sting over with his tongue. He took the opportunity when you moaned to slip his tongue in your mouth, exploring every inch of you in the amount of time he had left.

You came back to your senses when you heard the shrill ring of someone's iPhone alarm outside, alerting you two that the time was up. You looked up to see a look of almost regret in Miguel’s eyes, feeling your heart sink just a little bit. You didn't want to acknowledge what this meant for you and Miguel so you decided to run out the closet, fixing your hair up quickly in the bathroom and reapplying a fresh coat of lipgloss. You looked down at your phone when you heard a notification ping, a message from your brother that he would be leaving with Katie after the party was over. You successfully avoided Miguel for the rest of the party, hanging out around the basement or the backyard porch as a means to distract yourself.

After a while of avoiding Miguel, you decided to head back to the apartment since the party had mostly died down. You felt your mind fuzzy from the kiss as you drove back home, the taste of him and the feeling of his lips still lingering in your mind. You pushed those thoughts away as you arrived at your apartment, going into your bedroom and grabbing your towel. You took a warm shower, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in your muscles and that it would help with those pesky thoughts about Miguel that just wouldn't go away.

You finished up with your shower half an hour later, but unfortunately it had done nothing to satisfy the urge that you now felt for your brother's best friend. You reminded yourself of what he was, of what he meant to your brother and what damage this could do to their friendship, but all you could think about is just how nice his lips felt against yours. How they seemed like they were made just for kissing you, how soft and how good he tasted. You changed into some pajamas, getting comfortable for bed as you grabbed a book from your nightstand and turned the lamp on. You hoped that the book would offer you some sort of escape from your current situation, give you some peace of mind. However, you had picked up a romance book so it didn't give you too much to escape from, the situation eerily creepy to what was happening with you. You eventually gave up on reading when you approached one of the smut pages, Miguel's face appearing front and center in your mind as you read what the love interest was doing to the main character.

After a while of reading, you eventually decided to give up on trying to stop thinking about Miguel and tried to go to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed, your stuffed animal ending up on the floor a while later. You picked it up, apologizing for what you'd done before opening up your phone to a picture of Miguel from his Instagram page. You felt the need inside of you grow as you saw that he was shirtless in the picture, his happy trail showing with the low-waisted swim shorts he was wearing.

You let out a small, annoyed sigh as your hand started making itself down your breasts. You gently squeezed your nipple, letting out a soft moan as you imagined that it was Miguel’s hands on your breasts instead. How pretty his mouth would look wrapped around your boobs. You set down your phone, giving into the urge and started to caress your breasts to the thought of Miguel. Your nimble fingers tugged and squeezed, hoping that the stimulation would help with the ache between your legs. The ache that Miguel had left behind. Your nipples were like little pebbles by the time you were done, clearly prominent in the white tee you had on.

You grabbed your dildo from your bedside table and a bottle of lube before you got a chance to think twice about who you were masturbating to. You let out a sharp breath as you felt the coldness from the lube hit your clit, the liquid starting to slide down between your folds. You lathered some of the lube onto the dildo, sliding it inside slowly as your mind started to conjure up scenarios. You pictured Miguel calling you a good girl, telling you how good you were taking his cock as he slowly started to push deep inside of you. You let out a soft moan as you felt the dildo completely inside of you, your pussy clenching tightly around it as you tried to adjust to the size. You pictured Miguel kissing your face, your body as you got adjusted to his size, whispering how much of a whore you were for him and his cock. How good your pussy was swallowing him up. With those thoughts in mind, you slowly started to pump the dildo inside of you.

You increased the pace after you got used to the size, letting the moans slip freely out of your mouth. "Y-Yes Miguel!" You moaned, your toes curling as you felt the dildo hit your g-spot. You thought about Miguel again, how easy it would be for him to figure out what made you tick, what made you writhe and beg for him. Sweat started building up on your forehead as you continued to push the dildo in and out of you, seeking the sweet relief of your release. Your phone pinged with a notification, but you were too focused on your pleasure to see that it was actually from Miguel. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingertips went to your clit, rubbing small fervent circles on it.

You thought about how good Miguel’s tongue would feel buried deep inside your pussy, your fingers tugging on his hair as you grinded against his face to get more of it. The dildo came in and out of you with a loud squelch, the mixture from your juices and the lube providing you with enough lubrication. Your back arched from the bed as you massaged your clit, pushing the dildo in and out of you. Miguel’s face came into your mind as you came, picturing him telling you how much he wanted you to cum, how pretty you looked when you were at bliss and how much he needed to taste your juices. "Oh Miguel! Yes, right there," you moaned out, your back completely off the bed as you came around the dildo. You slumped back against the bed, feeling post nut clarity hit you all at once. You felt ashamed for using him as the object of your fantasies, especially with the look in his eyes he had after he kissed you in the closet.

You let yourself think about the severity of your actions, knowing that your brother would probably go bat shit crazy if he found out you were doing this to the thought of Miguel or about the kiss that you two shared. You rubbed your temples, relieved by the knowledge that at least nobody would be witness to what happened in your room. You got up from the bed when you looked over at the dildo next to you, just wanting to clean it up and forget about what had happened.

You came back into your room after cleaning yourself up and the toy, hoping that the orgasm would help you go to sleep easier. Eventually, you found yourself tossing and turning in your bed once more, unable to sleep as thoughts of Miguel and shame circled through your mind. You checked your phone to see the message from Miguel, your eyes widening a bit as you saw the contents of what it said.

miguel: hey, your brother wanted me to check up on you so i'll be swinging by the apartment later if you need anything.

sent 12:31 am

You silently pray that Miguel hadn't arrived just yet, that he hadn't heard how needy and horny you were just a couple minutes ago. And all for him. You open up your bedroom door, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you saw that Miguel was standing there with his arms folded across his chest and his cheeks tinted red. Fuck.

[hgfictionwriter]

Ache - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: After all the angst and longing, you and Jessie continue to make up for lost time. She still has to make you hers again, after all.

Warnings: Heavy on the smut, my friends. Language warnings as well.

A/N: Final chapter of the series. Thanks for sticking with me! If you need to, catch up on Part One (no smut) and Part Two (18+).

Gif credit to @glimmerofawesome.

Your legs trembled as you stood, but Jessie was there with an arm around you to steady you. “I’ve got you,” she said sweetly, though you spied the pleased glint in her eyes over your state.

She couldn’t help it if she was at least a little proud of the effect she had on you, especially after all this time.

She grinned at you as she leaned down and hooked an arm underneath your knees to hoist you into her arms. You blushed.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking, you know,” you complained lightly as she carried you to the bedroom. She glanced down at you mischievously.

“I’m not so sure about that.” She laughed as you swatted at her.

“Jess!”

“Yes, babe?” She asked innocently as she only half heartedly tried to hide her smile. You rolled your eyes affectionately and you couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at your lips.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled good-naturedly. She grinned at you once more as she set you down on the bed.

“Actually, I think I might be the best,” she quipped with feigned realization.

“Oh my God,” you muttered as you covered your face. “I’ve created a monster.” You heard her laugh.

You removed your hands to look at her again when you felt the bed shift as she kneeled on it. Your smile lingered and your hands automatically came up to cup her face as she began to crawl up your body. Warmth radiated from your chest as you took in the shading of her cheeks, her freckles and the hint of a cocky smirk on her lips.

“Although, if you’re not convinced that I’m the best, I guess I’ll just have to make a point of proving it to you.” Her voice was husky as she leaned in and kissed you.

“Yeah? We’ll see about that,” you teased and reached down to tug at her shirt. “You are way too covered up for my liking. Come on, beautiful.” She grumbled impatiently, but complied and kissed you as you removed her clothes. She glanced at her shirt in your hand before you cast it aside.

“I want you to wear my shirt every morning,” she told you, her eyes growing dark and intense again as she took you in. “I can’t get over how sexy you are walking around in my clothes.”

You smiled and cupped her rosy cheeks as you kissed her. You loved when she was like this.

“That can be arranged.” You bit your lip as you let your hands wander and trace over her toned muscles. “God, you’re even sexier than I remember.” Her gaze flicked away coyly for a moment before she looked back, giving you the most charming of smirks.

“You’re one to talk,” she returned. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you if I tried right now.” Her hand began to move up your thigh in a kneading motion and she began kissing down your chest. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You bit your bottom lip and your head rolled back as her tongue came out to tease your nipple. She grinned as your breath hitched and she closed her mouth around it in a slow kiss that finished with a light tug.

You ran your fingers through her hair, playing with the soft waves as she continued. Her other hand came up and began massaging your other breast and pulling a soft moan from you.

She continued her ministrations, but soon your mouth fell agape as she began to run her fingers through your slick folds and tease your entrance. You writhed under her in anticipation, feeling yourself grow wetter with each passing moment.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She asked with a teasing lilt in her voice as she continued to trace faintly around you, even pulling back now and then. You huffed in frustration and gripped her hair.

“Stop teasing me, Jess,” you whined.

“Why?” She retorted with a fleeting touch across your clit and a pointed tug of your nipple with her mouth, teeth grazing.

“Because I’m dripping wet for you,” you said impatiently. It was true - and you knew what she wanted to hear, it wasn’t the first time she made you beg, but you needed her more desperately than ever.

“I can tell,” she chuckled as she ran two fingers through your folds before pulling back altogether.

“Baby, please,” you whined again, the need so evident in your voice as you pulled her to you and lifted your hips up in a vain attempt to meet her.

She tutted her disapproval before leaning in to kiss you, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth.

“Tell me what you really want,” she whispered.

Your hips rolled up wantonly as you desperately sought her touch, but she refused. When you looked at her, her gaze was piercing and she studied you like prey.

“Jessie,” you groaned, again writhing beneath her.

“Come on, Princess,” she said in a hushed tone. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.”

You wrapped an arm around the back of her shoulders and pulled her more firmly towards you. She relented and began kissing your neck. You tilted your head towards her, your lips grazing her ear as you spoke.

“I want your fingers inside of me. I want you to fuck me. I want you to claim me.” An eager sigh escaped you as you felt her tense up and a low tone emanated from her chest. “I want you to fuck me so good that the thought of leaving you could never cross my mind. I want you to make me cum so hard that I know no one could ever please me the same.” She continued to moan at your words and started slowly grind her hips against you. You trailed your tongue along the outside of her ear. “Make me scream your name.”

You released a cry as she plunged into your soaking tunnel. While she was withholding and teasing a few moments before, now she was strong and deliberate as she entered you with powerful thrusts.

The sounds of her fingers sliding in and out of you filled the room immediately and you groaned in pleasure as she filled you and stretched you in the most delicious of ways. Your legs instinctively widened to invite her in further.

"Fuck. This pussy is so fucking good," she growled through grit teeth. “And it’s all fucking mine.” Her breath was ragged as she loomed over you and she watched as you rocked up and down on the bed with each stroke from her. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“You’re not allowed to,” you told her in rasping breaths as you clung desperately to her, already starting to feel a slight sheen of sweat beginning to form on her skin as she fucked you animalistically.

“That’s fucking right, babe,” she said as she nipped at your neck. Her tone softened. “I belong to you.”

"I missed you so much," you told her, clutching her to you as best you could as she rocked back and forth above you with forceful, yet fluid movements punctuated by her sinking into you and bottoming out at her knuckles.

"You're the only girl for me," Jessie professed as she panted above you.

“Oh my God,” you said in a shuddering voice. You wrapped your legs tightly around her waist. “Give me more, Jessie. I need you.”

“Anything for you,” she promised as she added a digit and stretched you out more. Your jaw fell at the sensation. “You feel so good around me,” she said as she thrusted into you. “It’s like you were made for me.”

Your moan echoed off the walls. Jessie, who was so normally reserved and quiet, passionately fucking you into the mattress and whispering declarations of love and devotion in such a primal sense was sending you over the edge.

"I missed you." Jessie's voice was soft, sad almost, and a vast contrast to how she was pumping into you with such fervour that the headboard banged rhythmically against the wall.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stared down at you intensely. Her eyes were clouded over with lust, but behind that there was unmistakable tenderness and emotion. And something you hadn't really seen from her before in bed, a hint of uncertainty.

"Are you mine?" She asked, her eyes searching yours.

You pulled her closer and gave her a deep kiss she eagerly reciprocated.

"Of course I'm yours," you told her. "You're the only one for me. Always will be.” It was hard to think as she pressed into your sweet spot with continuous strokes, but it didn’t take much to conjure up your feelings for her. Regardless of if a year had passed or if it had only been a few days, being with her felt so natural and at the same time as if you’d been starved of her touch and desperate for relief.

“Whether you’re with me or not, my heart is yours, Jess.” You kissed her tenderly. “My body, too. No one could make me feel this way.”

Jessie’s breaths grew heavier and her pace quickened, drawing a series of moans from you.

“Baby,” you panted. “I’m so close.”

Soft grunts came from Jessie as she pumped into you. Her shuddering and heavy breaths were in your ear as she continued to move exquisitely above you. It drove you wild.

“I’m so wet for you, babe,” she told you as she continued to rock into you. “Being inside of you, your body against mine, the sounds you make,” she exhaled sharply and rolled her forehead against yours, “fucking everything. You get me so hot. I don’t know how you do it. I swear I’m gonna cum just from fucking you.”

Everything together - the way she was pleasuring you, her words, the emotions, the ecstasy at being together again after the heartbreak of being apart - it was overwhelming. In the best of ways.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as your core began to spasm and you convulsed around Jessie’s fingers. A guttural moan ripped through your throat before Jessie’s name began to fall from your lips like an enamoured chant.

Jessie’s grunts and whimpers were a distant sound as your orgasm continued to quake through you. Only once you both slowed and started to come down did you realize how your nails dug into her skin.

“Oh fuck,” you managed, your voice weak as your chest heaved up and down. Jessie’s back was slick with sweat and her head fell heavy against your shoulder. She laid slow, sweet kisses along your collarbone as she, too, worked to catch her breath. Your legs trembled as the aftershocks continued.

“God, that was amazing. If you thought I couldn’t walk before…,” you trailed off with a chuckle. She kissed you and gave a sly smirk.

“What can I say? You inspire me.”

“Wouldn’t everyone be so shocked to learn that you actually can take a compliment.” She rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“And what can I say?” She repeated. “I don’t mind when they come from you. You’re the exception.”

It took a while before either of you made a move to break your embrace. Neither of you wanted to let go. But eventually, after ongoing declarations of love and longing, you both laid there in comfortable silence until you’d both recovered.

Given how you were cuddled into her, how warm and safe you felt in her arms - and no denying - having been well and thoroughly fucked, your eyelids were starting to grow heavy. You lay a chaste kiss on her chest and stifled a yawn.

“Do you have to be up early tomorrow?” You asked. She fidgeted slightly.

“No…do you?” She asked as she tilted her head slightly to peer over at you.

You nodded your head coupled with a slight groan of complaint. “Mhm. I have work.”

“Oh,” she said simply as her gaze returned to the ceiling.

“You can sleep in,” you told her before smirking. “I know you said you want to see me in your clothes, but you can borrow mine tomorrow.”

She looked over again, this time in a way that drew your attention. You opened your eyes to see her watching you with the sweetest furrow of her brow.

“You don’t mind if I spend the night?” She asked with veiled hopefulness.

You leaned up on your elbow to look down at her with a loving, but amused smirk.

“Baby. You could move in tomorrow if you wanted to. I need you to hear me - I’m all in. Besides, we were talking about it before. And it would help us spend more time together despite our schedules.”

A smile slowly grew across her face and she pulled you down into a kiss.

“Be careful what you wish for. You know I’m going to reorganize your bookshelf. And the kitchen cupboards. And-”

You cut her off with a kiss. “Whatever you like, baby. I just want us to have a place we can call ours.”

A small yelp escaped you as she suddenly hugged you tightly to her.

“You make me so fucking happy. You know that, right?” She asked when she relaxed her grip and pulled back enough to give you a watery smile.

“I intend to keep it that way,” you assured her as you lay your head back down on her chest. She kissed the top of your head.

"I was so scared when I came over," she told you quietly as she traced along your shoulder absently. "I didn't know if you were going to turn me away - it wouldn't have been all that unlikely." She laid a lingering kiss on your crown once more. "I'm so glad I tried though."

"I'm grateful you did, too," you reciprocated as you gave her a light squeeze. "Although I have this feeling that even if you didn't tonight, we would've found our way back to one another eventually."

She smiled. "I think you're right." A few moments passed and she let out a quiet sigh. “You sure you have to go to work tomorrow?” She ventured. She squirmed a bit and went on in a hushed tone. “I don’t want you to go.”

The admission made her blush. She knew it was unreasonable, and she of all people knew the importance of accountability and responsibility, but you had a way of making her feel safe to express things she’d normally rather die over than confess.

“I have to,” you told her, but offered a sweet kiss in consolation. “But if you’re not doing anything, you could always come meet me for lunch?”

“Okay.” She nodded her acceptance with a bit of a grumble. “And I know you have to - and should,” she relented. Her gaze shifted about shyly and she laced your fingers together, caressing the back of your hand with her thumb. “I just don’t want to miss you.”

Your heart swelled at her proclamation. You loved this woman. You adored this woman. And despite her usual independence, she could be clingy. Always respectful and in the cutest of ways, but clingy. Thankfully, you loved it.

“I know, baby. But now, we have all the time in the world.”

[darkdemeter]

GUARD DOG

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN (ONESHOT) #4 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Mafia! Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — First time doing the sex pollen trope so it may be a bit stiff? Looking at doing more werewolf exposed to sex pollen stuff because I think it’s an interesting concept!

WORD COUNT — 24.7k

READER DISCRETION — Mafia/mob orientated stuff — violence — death — slight alluded to relationship with Natasha — trauma, some ptsd — mention and implied SA and forced sexual encounters (none main cast) — graphic depictions of torture, "animal" cruelty, experimentation and family death — exposure to sex pollen (reader only) — mention of previous usage of drugs (forced) — reader is dehumanised, usage of negative titles/names — sexual themes — SMUT** 18+ MINORS DNI — monster-tongue fucking — "Mate" usage and status — will feature "male variant" and "female variant" smut separate segments — I think that's it?

SUMMARY — All that you are is a guard. An obedient soldier. You have killed, maimed and other atrocities, but before you lose yourself you will do all these things for her. With the death of Pietro, Wanda remains as the sole heir to the Maximoff empire. As her loyal guard, it is your duty to protect her at all costs, and you will do so until your last breath; come what may. You now engage in a manhunt for Brock Rumlow, to exact revenge for the Maximoff heiress. However, it's not that simple. He's disappeared to the winds without a trace and so, those of the American brotherhood come your aid. However, when they bring news of Brock's whereabouts, it will force you to encounter a part of your dark history that you've purposefully kept hidden from Wanda. Ironic that you will venture to a place that still holds you captive yet is the stepping stone of how you gained your "freedom".

ACT I: AMBER & BLOOD

It all happens so fast. After a torturous incline of sinister  lingering just out of reach, Rumlow finally struck. Wanda could very well have died tonight if it weren’t for you, unfortunately, Pietro is lost in the crossfire. 

A black SUV rolled over with a fried, sizzling engine, and crumpled metal, Wanda’s leg is pinned between the driver’s seat and her own, unable to prevent Pietro from being dragged out. 

His yells of protest mix with the blood curdling sounds of flesh being pummelled and choking on his own blood. Wanda cries out in her suffering, her agony that cuts her deeply like a knife, turning without pause. She now realises she should have listened to you when you told them it was a set up. 

She’d been adamant the Rumlow Family had want for peace, such as them, and that with some luck, they could forge a new schematic and plan to control the European territories together in their newfound alliance. Foreign powers were not often taken in by those of the European empires and families unless they proved to have wealth, power, influence and anything else that could bolster their own standing. 

How wrong the Maximoff twins were, to think of such pleasantries like children with an over imaginative mind for wishful thinking. To believe honey-coated words. They were revealing their hand of cards to the dealer before it was the right time. 

She and Pietro only glimpsed at the surface of this opportunity, they didn’t take care in looking into the depths, they blindly ignored your advice to consider what was being offered. They had no elders to hit pause and test them, to let them properly judge the situation accordingly. 

The only means of guidance the twins were offered after the death of their parents did little in doing the right thing. Blubbering messes, hidden agendas, so-called family friends that failed so miserably in their job to counsel the Maximoff heirs. Trusted members that swore they would do all in their ability to protect the interest of the family, blood and business all.

It then fell into the palms of your clawed hands. Hands that were often healing bruised and splintered knuckles if not blood stained. It was up to you to rectify their mistakes. To provide the support of being a shadowy advisor, because of the scolding looks you were given whenever you tried to voice your own opinion at the sit downs. 

The ideal scenario of meeting with the Rumlows also implied that you were nowhere in the picture when the negotiations went down. Yes, Wanda and Pietro both agreed that your presence would only push Rumlow to refuse the deal, along with their desired terms.

 Did they truly think that he wouldn’t agree under the silent oath that he would later turn on them, your presence there or not? Rumlow was the dagger in the cloak. 

That’s why you were not in the car with them when it happens. But you were tailing behind them, to ensure that they were safe. That was your job, your purpose to be with the family, to protect them. And thankfully, given your experience, you knew something was off from the very start. 

The black, winding street lined by the green foliage of woodland is shrouded in darkness, Rumlow’s men are convinced that this was the perfect spot for their ambush to take place. Their cars formed a blockade in the direction the SUV was driving through, the white lights blaring through the thick shroud of night, a thin and constant blanket of fog muffled their black silhouettes. They appear more ghost-like than they really were. But they were very much real. 

Wanda continues to scream for her brother, pleading with the suited men to let him go, but they don’t. Instead, they laugh and joke while Pietro is beaten into a broken, bloody mess. His face is cut and littered with dark welts that contort his features, a hideous display of the brutality that could have been avoided if they just listened. 

She tries again and again to pull her leg from the tight wedge but cannot. When the car rolled, it sealed her fate, locking her in place to endure the cruelty of their consequences. 

You hear her shout for you then. Her voice, shrill and raw with desperation, she wills you to be at her side; unexpecting that her words seemed to be a work of magic when the large, muscular frame of your other side leaps from the canopy of trees and bushes behind her.

Rumlow thinks he is the only beast that none can trifle with. His memory is lacking or perhaps he’s purposefully blocked out the incident. 

The men who are your now sworn enemies are caught in the frenzy of their panic, alarmed by the swift form that tears Pietro’s attacker into shreds in seconds, his blood rains down like a storm, covering them and the dark road illuminated by the streams of light. 

From Wanda’s trapped place, she cannot help the swell of admiration and hope in her green eyes, the men cower before you as you protectively stand over Pietro’s unconscious body. The threads of her vocal cords are tightly constricted under the influx of tears that mist her eyes, making them faintly shine, yet she prevails to utter your name in the midst of her shock. To see that you actually came for them. 

Like a guardian angel. A guard dog. 

The fiery orbs of your amber eyes haunt the darkness and even so far to reach Wanda’s soul. To behold the gaze of such anger, she cannot even pray that those targeted by such hatred find rest when their bodies have grown cold and lifeless.

It is one thing to test the fury of a man. It’s a completely different story when one tests the wrath of a werewolf. As far as the reputation of your collar goes, you don’t take kindly to your enemies, as expected, nor are you known to be merciful towards prisoners. If they intend harm on those that are under your protection, they will die. 

In the amber fires of your eyes that bare the gateway to the underworld, she sees that deeply driven will to protect. She finds comfort in that notion, that you are here right now, already one man torn to pieces, and several more to join him, she releases the breath in her chest like a floodgate as she utters, “kill them all.”

The large outline of your muzzle dips obediently and you turn your sights to the men sent to kill the heirs to the Maximoff Family. No mercy. There was to only be blood and carnage. 

Your towering height only drives the stakes of primitive fear further into their hearts as your bloody jaws pry open, bellowing a baritone howl that freezes fauna and flora both, terrorising their once moment of harmony. 

One of the men shouts orders to the others, his words die on the junction of his Adam's apple when you strike an arm forward. Your claws puncture first and followed by the digits of your pawed fingers, he chokes around the intrusion, and with an equally viscous tug you tear the cords from his throat. 

Claps of gunfire echo with each flash, bullet after bullet try in vain to penetrate your hide, some find more prominent purchase while others ricochet off you and clank against the bloodstained road with false promises that that single bullet would be the one to bring you down. 

For a family allied with the very facility that made you the ruthless killing machine - a family who have knowledge of their fingertips - they were greatly under prepared, sorely lacking the equipment needed to cause you any real damage. 

One man gains a surge of bravery or stupidity and he runs at you, gun in hand firing until his magazine is emptied before he knew it, you see his very life flash before his eyes as you raise your opposite arm up and sweep downward. His scream is cut short when his head is shredded in half and blood gushes in oozing streams, he falls with a meaty thump to the ground. 

Two men armed with shotguns empty their barrels, reload and fire again, the process repeats itself. It’s the middle one that awakens that predator drive in you when he turns and makes a run for it. 

You run at the two men and dispatch of them, claws tearing through their suits and divulging the contents of their stomachs, their internal organs now unguarded by the crushed remnants of their bones, they topple free and onto the ground at their feet. Their legs are quick to give out as shock wracks their bodies, hands shakily attempting to pull their innards back in with little hope of succession. 

The final man who now flees the scene wheezes, and quite loudly at that, firearm disarmed when your jaws clamp shut around his forearm and tear the limb from his shoulder with a squelch and a bone-breaking pop. 

He clutches at the deformity of his missing arm and his hand is soaked with his blood, the wound leaves a trail to paint a streaky, black line that now shines under the uncovered moon; taking a leisurely peek through the veil of obsidian clouds. 

You can tell that the shock is getting to him as much as he tries to carry on, he’s becoming weaker. He now stumbles like injured prey, exactly what he was to you in this moment, whimpering as he drops to the road with a helpless grunt. 

He’s desperate from how he crawls from you. You slowly stalk behind him with some level of intrigue, head cocking to the side and your ears twitch against the blowing breeze, you snarl lowly when he turns to peer up at you. 

“P-please!” he shouts weakly as you flip him into his back with minimal effort, “d-d–don’t! No–!” 

You make him suffer for the trouble he and his fellow men put Wanda and Pietro through. You make the agony last, something that goes against the natural instinct to end a poor animal’s suffering; it was broken out of you in that facility. 

You maul to hurt people. You kill to hurt people. All things natural and that bring you closer to that connection, that tie that binds you to the balance of nature, was ripped out of you to mould you into an obedient pet. 

An animal that follows orders. The duality between wolf and human, both were equally broken in.

His screams of horror and agony tear through the night until he couldn’t anymore, his throat tired out from screaming to whatever god he held faith in, your teeth rip into his bowels and chest, flesh and bone minced into chunks of paste and blood. He now laid bare with the entirety of his midriff destroyed. The light in his eyes now faded. 

The threat is now neutralised, you realise and swiftly you turn and trudge back to Wanda. When you reach her, she’s managed to just wiggle herself a little ways out of the open door frame, fragments of glass dig into her palms until they draw blood, mere droplets in comparison to what you drew from Rumlow’s men. 

“Y/N,” she whimpers quietly in relief. Her face is scrunched tightly with a hiss as she attempts again to free herself, a strangled cry of frustration is what it takes for her tears to break free. 

Your ears are pinned far back against your head at the sound. Brutally self-beating in her vulnerable state. You reach forward with a growl, you shove the leather seat forward and with the mechanical gears popping, Wanda’s leg is freed. You help in dragging Wanda out from the car, Your nose is wet and hot against her skin when you press it to her, inhaling her scent as you sniff her over for any potential injuries. 

“I’m fine,” she assures you but the wrinkle of your muzzle tells her you don’t appreciate her diffusing the matter of your job. “Pietro!” 

Wanda pushes herself to her feet with newfound strength. She hurries to her twin brother and rolls him onto his back, a gasp on her tongue, you hear her breath hitch in her lungs while she takes in the sight of him. 

Her next move is hesitant but she has to know. She dips her head, turning it and presses it against his chest, her hand covering the deep cut right at her nose, the iron scent of blood fills her senses and her face winces. 

The lively thump in his chest is silent. 

“I knew this would happen. I told you, but you didn’t listen.”

Though with words so evident in their truth, Wanda finds them venomous and harsh to her ears, still in the grasp of shock, the loss of her brother is the final straw. Not only two years ago her parents were killed, and now another Maximoff finds themselves in the grave. She is the sole surviving heir to the Maximoff Family and their empire hinges upon her. 

A burden, you feel, is crushing her from the inside as all eyes will now turn to her. 

She sits on the edge of her lage bed with her legs pressed tightly together, hanging down over the side, hands folded in her lap in defeat. Her long hair shields her tears from you, when you glance up from your place at her vanity do you catch her reflection. A girl done in by the trauma. In the moonlight that pours through the window, her body is quivering in waves, mind and body at battle with overcoming the death of her brother. 

You cannot help but wonder if maybe this is all your fault. Had her parents not been killed, had you been there to protect them, would she have been spared from it all? 

She’s terrified. The grief that accompanies her loss doesn’t go unshared, you have your own reasons to mourn. Pietro, although a little too cocky at times, was a good brother and son who intended to change the playing field of your world. A young man who had a vision but ultimately was blinded by his ideas to see the world as it was, that there were those who saw different alternatives to get what they wanted. 

And Rumlow was one of those people. 

The heat of your body angrily laps at the streak of icy coldness of your blood when you hear behind you the shriek of a thousand tears, memories shattered into pieces, torn apart by the fragile thread between life and death and all the unfair tactics this life offers.

 Wanda now screams into the palms of her hands, body caught in a violent spasm amidst the ocean of her pain. “H-he’ll come back any minute… he will, he’s just– just in a meeting–”

You walk slowly towards her and kneel down in front of her. “Wanda, look at me,” you growl and turn her chin up so her watery eyes meet yours. 

“He’s gone. Rumlow isn’t going to play things out the way you both hoped he would. Think about it, he fucking almost ended this entire family tonight had I’d not been there.”

The delicate, plump shape of her lips part with a small and faint gasp, her eyes bore the slow realisation of what you were saying. Yet her eyes beg for you to take back what you said. To offer her an escape from it all, to just tell her what she wants to hear; not what she needs to. 

It’s unfortunate news to her as you shake your head slightly. You cannot let her fall into the false dream that everything was alright. Like a bandaid, you have to rip it off. She had almost been killed. Had you not been there, after the men dealt with Pietro, they would have gotten her too. The thought of it causes an unwelcome shiver to run up her spine. 

“Rumlow aims to snuff out the entire Maximoff Family in order to gain territory. And he’s not going to stop until he’s put you in the ground too.” 

How could your words be so hard to hear but equally so right in their conviction? You were trusted by her parents, someone they considered part of the family despite your otherwise humble dismissal that you were just a guard to the family. They considered you equal to their standing. 

And Wanda waved off your warnings as if you didn’t have a clue. Hell, she doesn’t even know half of what you had to endure at the facility. The horrors of your time growing up in that damn place are accounts you’re not overly excited to share with anyone. 

“Wanda,” you say her name to draw her unfocused eyes, to bring her back to you, “you’re all I have to protect now. I swore that I would do everything in my ability, and I will. But promise me, you won’t do anything like that again.”

Your eyes hold her attention, firm and unwavering in the looming silence between you. She feels her heartbeat race a little quicker now as she becomes lost in the certainty of your protection, the caged beast beneath the surface, she nods. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sigh heavily as something finally eases the tension in your shoulders, you let them drop lower and bow your head, face inches from resting in her lap. Her fingers comb the length of your hair, soft and drenched from your quick shower to rinse off the blood that clung to your fur. 

She lets her head dip as well and soak in the scent of your shampoo, a strong smell of pine, something naturistic, compared to the one she used. Not at all the scent she would peg you for with your rough exterior and stoic personality.

But that was all a front. Time and time again she’s seen a side to you that you keep away from others. A tenderness you reserve for her, even your claws tend to be drawn back whenever you’re just in her company. Much like they were now, she marvels at the sight of those sharpened tips that you use as a weapon, as they now reduce back into the nail beds. 

Other than that, all she got to see was your dominating and intimidating stature, tough as iron front, letting all know that she was under your unwavering protection. That you guard her. 

Your head rolls up and your noses brush against each other, breaths mingling together in the miniscule gap between your lips, an inch apart you would have considered inappropriate before. But that was when you were unsure and reserved, humbly turning down any sort of praise and keeping your feelings locked away in some dark corner of your heart. 

Before you came to realise you were in love with her. 

You try to calm the rapid increase of your heart rate as if somehow she is still in the clutches of immediate danger, that at any moment she will be taken from you. Her lips, so plump and full and kissable, ghost over yours in silent contemplation. She knows just as well as you that this teeters on a fine line, that this can jeopardise everything between the two of you. 

And nobody could know. A werewolf guard and the heiress to one of the largest and well established criminal empires in the world, if anyone found out, it would cost you both everything. 

What terrifies you is the thought that you could lose Wanda at any moment. The constant what if questions. 

‘What if I were unable to prevent her demise? What if I fail her?’

“I just can’t lose you, Wanda.”

You shake your head at your own words, their meaning so plain and simple: a confession. 

“I promised your parents that I would always protect you.” 

It’s like she could see through the cover up. Yes, you did swear yourself to them that you would protect their children, their daughter, but you also used it as a line of defence. To save face from the awfully timed confession. 

“They’re gone, Y/N. Swear it to me.” 

Her hands cup the shape of your face, the pads of her thumbs soft, delicate against the contours of your features, the tiny and healed scars that littered your face alone, the rest of them were hidden beneath your clothes, how her simple touch calms you and makes you more alive than ever. Her touch is a revival. For once, you’re given the reprieve you long for. To feel trusted wholeheartedly. Loved.

Your hands run up the sides of her thighs until they pause right on the rise of her rear, your fingers grasp firmly and tug her that little bit closer, your forehead pressed to hers and that amber glow shines brightly in your eyes in the dimly lit room. 

“I swear it.” 

Your lips come together as two separate forces once held far apart for too long, now the pull draws you both inwards to the other, magnetic and electrical. Passionate and hungry. You waste no time in sharing one another’s taste as your tongues glide and entangle amidst the heat of your kiss. 

Her fingers rake through your hair and tug on the roots, earning one guttural of an animalistic moan from you, the sound results in a wetness to pool between her thighs, and you can smell her alluring scent. Your hands knead her arse, your tight grip possessive as you have her in your grasp, after all this time. 

You’ve done many horrible things in your long life. But Wanda drowns it all out. For a moment or more, you are free of the guilt, the shame, the fear of being capable of hurting her. You’d snap the next man’s neck or shoot a hundred bullets into a corpse without so much as a sweat. But you’d be damned if you laid a hand that intended harm on Wanda. 

And that’s why you swear to her now, that your loyalty shall remain intact. Because you have killed for her. You will kill for her. 

It came with the job but now it comes with the instinct, the desire to have her as your own. 

Then again, that was the light of your soul, what little there was that isn’t eclipsed, the faction of your humanity and questionable morality, talking. 

ACT II: ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE & WAR

ONE WEEK LATER

The party was hosted in honour of Pietro, a final toast and salute to the young male heir, a dear boy and treasure lost in the battles of struggling power. Many of the European mobsters respected the Maximoff Family, and would attend the party to pay their respects forward. 

However, Pietro’s death did not only shake the foundations of the criminal underworld within Europe, but overseas as well it would seem. So when mobsters from the Americas attended the honorary party, to say you were more protective in regards to your duty to Wanda and the Maximoff Family doesn’t cut it. 

Tony Stark and the band of his notorious brotherhood swagger in, Tony wearing a brighter shade suit than those of his company - who at least took greater care in setting their palettes to the familiar dark shades of mourning - the bright pink of Stark’s tie makes something seethe inside the pit of your stomach. 

The disrespect of Pietro’s memory makes your blood rush and the wolf inside is itching to unleash itself right there and then. You can just tell he’s stirring up the party on purpose, no doubt to get the attention of Wanda, and your assumptions were correct when Natasha joined your side. 

You took to seeing over the guests from the upper balcony that circles the lower level of the great hall. Your eyes narrow and zero in on the American group of gangsters the moment they walk in, not too long after their arrival does Stark lead them over to the bar, the server working double time to fulfil their order. 

Natasha follows the target of your gaze and smirks. “You’re burning holes into them with your eyes.”

She sees the amber hue dissipate, but only slightly, the lowly embers ready to become a roaring fire once the right fuel is added, to be devoured by your anger. “They’re here for a foothold.”

You only hum, the sound is short and dismissive. “They’ll behave themselves and ask for nothing, if they know what’s good for them.” 

“Stark has already sent an inquiry forward to have an audience with Wanda,” Natasha says and you finally look at her behind the hardened scowl, set hard into your face like stone. Your grip tightens on the glass nestled into your palm, the sound of a fragility splintering in your hold threatens the iced liquor of becoming a wasted mess on the floor. 

You take in her appearance, red hair short and styled into wavy curls, makeup neutral for the most part, save for the shadowy appeal around her eyes and full lips painted in red to draw attention - even yours momentarily - to them. 

She takes notice of your eyes wandering her body from head to toe and she playfully quirks a brow. “See something you like?” 

As if to test your resolve, she arches her back ever so slightly, her already short, black cocktail dress rides only higher, leaving little to the imagination. The work of art is already standing there beside you. Once you would have leapt at the opportunity, but not anymore. That was the old you that would have instantly pulled Natasha to you and smacked her rear until they were red with your handprint, whispering in her ear all the ways you would deal with her teasing.

But the new you stands above that. You’re loyal to one woman and one woman only. 

With an unamused shrug, you take a swig of your liquor. The taste rolls over your tongue with a rich, burning sensation. 

“Not interested, Romanoff. I’m a changed wolf.”

She chuckles at that, head tilting to the side with a cheshire grin. “And here I was, getting all dolled up for you. What a waste.” 

She juts her bottom lip out and you roll your eyes, gaze falling back onto the scheming mobsters below. 

“Maybe not. You can always use your skills down there,” you nod your head in the direction of your eyes, “and convince them to back off.”

“You can’t always protect her from people like them. Sooner or later, she will have to engage in business deals, and you can’t keep her hidden in her ivory tower forever.”

“Not forever,” you correct sharply, “just until Rumlow is dealt with and she has recovered from Pietro’s death. The last thing I want is for her to be taken advantage of.”

What you’re asking of her is laughable to her by the way she quietly cackles beside you as if you told some hilarious joke. “Naw, Puppy, are you letting something show?” 

You shake her head in response to her nonsense, you won’t be baited into feeding into what she alludes to. 

“You know, I hate how it’s expected of us women, when our means of support is taken. Now that Pietro’s gone, she’ll be expected to marry some rich overlord or some don.”

That makes your blood run cold and skin turn searing hot. The idea of Wanda marrying someone like that isn’t what you want to be thinking about right now, no matter how true Natasha’s statement is, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Your tongue runs over your top teeth, a fang manages to nick the moving muscle, drawing a few drops of tangy blood to join the tartness of truth. 

You bite back your next comeback, the muscles in your cheek clenching tightly like coiled springs ready to snap under the pressure, she and Tony both are equal in their game to piss you off tonight. Nobody wants to see a werewolf snap, even those who think they do, they’re quick to see the error of their ways. But Natasha always found the thrill in that, in her little games, she was always doing something to rattle your chain. 

“Just do that for me, yeah?” 

“And what if I don’t?” 

She teases you again, bending one leg forward until her thigh brushes the centre of your groin. Her eyes are half lidded in her mission to weaken you, to break you in, and in this case you’re not taking a single liking to the notion; that someone is still trying to achieve what another has already done, too far gone in your head that it’s a fried mess of pure disturbia. 

Your other hand curls around her bicep and you drag her towards you and spin her, pushing her back against the pillar next to you. She stares up at you, eyes wide and hopeful in their longing to watch you crack, your lips curl into a sneer. 

“You don’t want to find out.”

You push her away from you, taking great care not to be so rough, lest she falls back and stumbles in her black high heels, she scoffs with a wave of her hand. “Alright, alright, I was just fooling around. I’ll deal with them.” 

With a gust of a snort through your nose, you nod and take your leave after draining down the rest of your drink and slamming the glass down on a nearby server’s platter as you strut off. You pay no mind that the force you restrained only prior with Natasha had transferred over and the glass shattered upon impact with the metal tray, glass clattering and ringing like a steady beat of a drum. 

Your little show with Natasha proved to be quite the performance to the American mobsters who occupied the seats by the bar. 

You didn’t want to doubt Natasha, but you held some mistrust in her task to do as you asked, the matter more personal than practical to the business side of things, but you wanted to seek out Wanda. 

You couldn’t blame her for lingering back from the party for the time being and drown herself in the sorrows of isolation. 

But particularly after Natasha brought up the case of marriage, you had to seek Wanda out. Your fear is irrational, fearing that somehow someone who played the part of some wealthy don or overlord was with her now, down on one knee and presenting her a ring as they asked the question. 

“Will you marry me?”

You all but force the door open with a thrust of your arm, the hand on the doorknob wary of the strength you forced to choke it with. You’d been so deep in your messed up head, you actually thought you heard someone’s voice ask the dreaded question. 

You catch your unhinged jaw in the act, about to scream your objection before Wanda has a chance to either accept or deny, but she looks up at you from her place behind the large, dark wooden desk, the sacramento green leather only brought about to highlight her form. 

She gives you a look of expectancy and beckons you in with a gentle wave of her hand and inviting, sad smile. “Y/N, please come in. Is there something to report?” 

You shake your head in response to her question as you walk into the office - her office - but you believe that it was also to shake the intrusive thoughts in your head away. With a sigh of relief, she lets you involve yourself in her space and become accustomed to whatever strikes your fancy. 

You walk across the way towards the table on the opposite side of the room beneath the large window, curtains tied back to reveal the onslaught of rain and brewing storm clouds. Even the heavens were crying over the loss to the Maximoff Family it seems. 

You hit yourself with the stronger alcohol, tip the decanter and pour the rusty brown liquid into a short whiskey glass. You all but slam the decanter down, this time you thankfully avoid smashing it into crystalised shards. 

Wanda turns her head in your direction. “Everything alright?”

“Just peachy,” you huff as you stare out the window, brows knitted together and you take a sip of your beverage. The burnt taste is stronger than the drink you acquired at the bar, but it does little to quell your troubles and bring about that soothing buzz that warms your chest. 

“I take it you received Stark’s inquiry?”

“I did. And I assume, by the way you’re aggressively scowling, that he’s here?” she answers from her place at the desk. You take another gulp from your glass, lips pulling back into a thin line. Your eyes become thin with a glare, the stare awfully predatory with warning. 

“Yeah.” 

She stands from her seat and wanders over to where you are, the long skirt of her dress tightly fits her silhouette, the ruffle slit along her thigh provides some relief for movement, you watch as she carefully approaches you. 

Her naked hand reaches up and with a touch so delicate in its pure nature to soothe, you lean your cheek into her palm with a rumbling purr, the sound brings a smile to her lips as you’re lured by the touch you were deprived off for most, if not all, of your life. 

How can a mere touch be capable of healing the disturbed fragments of your tormented mind for but a moment? But just like that, the illusion of your wishful thoughts is shattered. Your tone is sharp and cuts straight to the point. 

“Wanda, I strongly advise against it.” 

“I-I know, but listen–”

“No, you listen!” 

Wanda gasps aloud when the shackles of your mind threaten to snap right there, the mentality of a previously caged animal losing itself to the mindless blur returning for the fraction of a few seconds, you pin Wanda in place against the table you stood by, glass rattling together violently from the force behind it, your arms cage her at both sides. The second time she becomes trapped without the capability to escape. 

She has no choice and is forced to watch a darkness creep into the blazing hellfire of your glowing eyes. “Men like him are dangerous. They are the definition of what makes a man untrustworthy. If you choose to see him, then you may as well have Rumlow be walking through the front door as well.”

“I think I can handle a few men in suits, dog.”

‘Dog...’

That was a fine line being crossed. She’s never called you that before and the shrinking of her pupils leads you to believe she regrets letting the word slip out. You can’t begin to dig up the memories of those old bones, the unidentifiable names and titles that stripped you of who you were. Your teeth ache from the pressure that compresses them together like metal plates of a vice, the muscles beneath eyes darkened by exhaustion, they twitch in recognition of the heat of tears. 

Quickly, you squeeze them shut to hide the shameful level of care she'd see. The embarrassment you carry for that more than professional fondness for the heiress. There are just some things that are unable to escape you. In some form, either by something you do or by someone else’s hand, it triggers the past to return and hits you with a punch to the gut, forcing the memories back into the forefront to torment you. 

Through a battle of grit you push aside the conflict that makes your head swim and dizzy. “Will you think that way during or after he has you pinned like this, as he and his men have their fill of you?”

It’s the question that makes the penny drop. One that doesn’t need an answer, you don’t want an answer to. 

“Because believe me when I say this, Wanda, that I have bore witness to too many women who said very similar things and ended up as the victims at the dealing table; not the victors. All the while, I was ordered to sit. Stay.” 

The number of times that shock collar went off to prevent you from protecting those women have only blurred together. The victims became faceless and shielded by the black behind your eyelids. You wouldn’t watch. The one luxury within the sea of evil your prior masters afforded you. 

The striking green of her narrowed gaze widens, the act she portrays to exude confidence and power - qualities expected highly of her more than ever now - they drop within an instant of your words that shatter all hope. Words that bring about the monstrous turn of reality, the world infested by such evil that it plagues all who come into contact with it. You as well, counted as both the victim and driving force that instigates it. 

She sees the recollection of something dark and prominent dominate your eyes, watching the dying embers of amber come to life like fire. Your dark pupils once lingering in the shadows of your thoughts stare Wanda down, right into every inch of her young, and all in all, untouched soul; while also having never left her alone to begin with. She feels the notch of fear bounce in her lungs. Threads of rubber bands quivering, at any given point ready to snap. 

You’ve never given her reason before to be scared of you. But now, you both anxiously bask in the uncertainty of that now. 

These were stories you had no thrilling interest in sharing for the passing of time. Oftentimes you’d rather take a silver bullet to the heart and be done with it all. But then who would protect her from the monsters? 

Monsters who only needed the skin on their bones and the horrendous intention behind their actions to do unspeakable things that violate, destroy and corrupt. 

The dread brings death to the liveliness that Wanda can only bring, a unique source that shimmers in her brilliant eyes, a green hue you knew you were enraptured by the moment you met her. She can’t even bring herself to say anything, to question you and what those eyes have had to endure before the Maximoff Family took you in; sheltering you for what you thought would be just a little while. But no, they took you in. Gave you a place to belong. 

Before the Maximoff Family, you had served numerous other crime lords and the like. As a loyal hound tethered to their leash, you obeyed every whim, every command, no matter how heinous it made you appear; a feral animal at the ready with the simple utterance of an order. 

You knew how these people did their dealings, how they operate and scheme. You’ve seen men getting gunned down across the table, women taken advantage of, and prisoners with sacks over their heads begging for their lives before their slaughter; by your hand or by that of your boss. 

Wanda would be tested and prodded by the elders of the criminal underworld. And if they can see it can be done, you know they won’t hesitate to make her one of those women who were bent over and taken on the very table meant to guard their interests and forge alliances. 

You refuse to let that fate befall Wanda. 

So you take it upon yourself to educate her a little on the matters of criminal diplomacy and negotiations. You push yourself against her until her front is flushed to yours, her breasts having no space but to brush on your chest with every deep breath she takes. Through her dark lashes that bat at you with dark innocence and longing, the colour of her eyes forces a groan to tumble over your bottom lip. 

“Still think you’re capable, Kitten?” 

Your core is a fire that warms every part of her being, she’s drowning out the sorrows with you as her addictive fix, all that she can think about is how you create that electric charge that shocks her nerves and causes that wetness to pool between her thighs once again. The reverberating and husky texture threaded that gives your wolf a voice makes her head swim. 

How that voice would feel against her sensitive, swollen bud as you devoured her, carnally and without restraint. To truly succumb to your beautiful nature and have her the way you would want to. Your nose burrows into the arched curve of her jaw and neck, her perfume hits your senses first, smelling of lilac and vanilla but beneath it, her natural scent hides.

She takes longer than she would have personally liked to answer you, the blurred haze of her mind frazzles any attempt to utter a response. 

“I-I… I just thought that maybe he can– he can help us find Rum–LOW!” You bare your teeth against her neck with a low growl. Her body flinches against the wall of your body. 

“Quit with the stuttering, and let’s try that answer again.”

A hand grasps hold of her face, fingers firmly pressed into the skin of her cheeks and forcing her gaze upwards. You’re leaving her with little to no choice. You remove your hand when her head moves within its grasp in a nodding motion. 

The arch of your brow rises slightly as you wait to hear what you know that must be made known. You want her to admit it. “No.”

“Better,” you drawl, teeth grazing the plains of her warm skin, you can very well taste her but you crave more. Your hands hold her by her hips and your fingers dig into her, sure enough to leave bruising behind. 

“Shit, I need you…” She’s on you in a flash of a second, lips hungry in their mission to ravish you and invade all thoughts you had prior, filling your mind with only her. Wanda’s legs leap off the ground and circle your strong waist and your hands support the extra weight you carry, the slit of her dress parts to reveal the tantalising prize of her thigh, in which you curl your palm around greedily. 

You shuffle back, allowing your heightened senses to guide you back until the back of your calves butt up into one of the accompanying, sacramento leather sofas, you drop yourself into the cushion with Wanda straddling your lap. 

Your lips latch hold of one another, caught in the erotic dance that shuts out all imposing forces. You use a hand to handle her and roughly pull her closer, fingers becoming entangled in the roots of her red locks. Her front rhythmically rocks into you as your clothed bodies try desperately to reach one another’s skin.

Fuck, how her body fit so snugly into yours and so perfectly, it’s like she was made for you. That somehow, Mother Nature herself, ensured that Wanda Maximoff be the only woman to belong against your body, to make your lungs burn with great fervour and stir the strongest instinct to protect. The fitting piece of the puzzle you never realised you were missing until now. Like two marble statues carved, you’re infused together, the bond of carven contact intimate and soul binding. 

The call of something distant and past, a faint memory once far lingering behind reaches through the veil and beckons you to entwine the separate threads of your souls as one. 

Your tongue darts out and teases her top lip. She moans, soft and deep, she parts her lips for you and you slither the eager muscle in, running it over her own, she moans again until you swallow the noise. Her fingers are clawing, clenching the fabric of your suit jacket until her nails scratch at the threaded seams, head tilting to the side as her hair falls onto her exposed shoulder. 

Her taste is divine, hypnotically venomous that leaves you craving more with every passing second. Her core that’s now buzzing in her aroused state, she whines at the friction of your pants digging in between her thighs. Just as you, she craves more. 

She drinks down the vibrations of a husky purr crawling up your throat, she lets out a small noise that all but has both your hands on her arse in an instant, tugging her impossibly closer while she continues to grind away; core against fiery core. 

Her left hand trails down the length of your larger body until it rests over your groin. Your head dips back against the sofa’s back when she palms you, rubbing you firmly through your trousers. The muscles in your torso strain and flex, pangs of arousal shoot to every nerve end in your body. 

“But maybe they won’t dare touch me if they know who I belong to,” she breathes out when she has a chance to break away from your lips, before a high pitched gasp is ripped from her chest. You buck your hips up, harshly to rub her sensitive bud through her panties, the sensation drills her further into lustful madness. 

“Wanda,” you warn between clenched teeth, “that’s quite a few important men I don’t really feel like cleaning up after.” 

“Imagine our relief.” 

Yours and Wanda’s head snap in the direction of the voice. American, a hint of the borough of Brooklyn, and his eyes a cold, harsh winter of blue. He stood there at the entrance of the office alongside those of their criminal brotherhood, tall and broad shouldered next to a man who matched his height and physique, his own hair short and blonde but eyes very much the same; a reflection of something icy in his blue orbs. 

James “Bucky” Barnes and Steve Rogers. You recall their faces. Not only theirs, but the others too share the same form of recollection, that of a dark skinned man, hair shaved back and facial hair styled similar, clean and simple. He too is equally broad across the chest as Bucky and Steve, his dark eyes ever haunted with that looming glare meant only for you. 

To Sam’s side is a lithe shaped personnel, long, raven hair grazing to his shoulders and slicked back behind his ears, pale skinned and pointed nose, and of course, that wide and toothy grin that spoke one language: trickery. 

Amidst the wall the four men form, adorned in their dark, three piece suits, was Tony standing front and centre, his short brown hair slightly brushed in an unkempt manner unique to him. He was a hard man to miss in a crowd when you think about it, in his extravagant suits and auburn tinted glasses. 

They stare at you and Wanda, caught in the compromising position you find yourselves in, their eyes smirking and accusatory. 

A deep, hostile growl rattles loudly into the air, laced thickly with silent tension, and Tony raises a hand up. He leans his shoulder and Natasha walks past him, a smirk of her own plastered on her lips. Her eyes, green and dark like the woodland canopy, portray the power she now holds over you. Of course, she would do anything to ensure Wanda’s dignity remain intact, but yours; she could have some real fun with you. 

Natasha always favoured the power struggle when you both treated the other as nothing but a reliever of stress. When the dynamic of your relationship with Wanda hadn’t been so intimate. 

“Well, to think I was actually correct that you were letting something show back there,” she chuckles and you tug Wanda closer to you, lips contorted into a snarl, “I don’t think you’re enlisted in your paperwork as a certified breeder, or that you’ve been granted your freedoms pass, Wolf.”

“Y/N?” Wanda questions with a whisper, her brows pinched in her confusion. You cannot bear to look her directly in the eye, just catching her stare from your peripheral. 

You growl again and the flicker of amber brightens around your obsidian pupils. 

“Natasha–”

“But Stark wants a deal. I advise we hear him out, don’t you agree?” 

The room gathers silence like dust as you gather your racing thoughts and reel them back in. However much you despised the clean up, now seems like the one and only chance you have to keep this as a tight lipped secret. You would deal with Natasha on your own afterwards.

But Wanda beat you to it as the skin beneath her palms quivered and grew flaming hot to the touch, she had to draw her hands away lest you burn and blister her skin. 

“Okay, we’ll hear you out. But my guard stays.”

“I believe they’re more than that, but very well, they’ll stay.” Tony huffs a haughty chuckle, nodding as he kinks his fingers in sign to his men to follow his lead, to approach you both. Wanda slips out of your lap and smoothes out any crinkles in her dress, chin tilted down to avoid looking up at the mob boss as he stalks closer to her. 

She feels vulnerable, far more than she would have liked, the surge of confidence she had prior to being caught - that naive hope - of getting the upper hand vanishes before her very fingertips. Despite the power of Europe to sustain her as the top Family, she’s revealed her hand yet again to the wrong sort, the dangerous sort. 

The sort that can now utilise you and her as a form of blackmail. The society of criminals as a whole finding out about this would bring a tidal wave of backlash towards Wanda, she would be hindered greatly, maybe even lose support and thus, the empire of the Maximoff Family would crumble into ruin. 

And if Pierce found out, then there was nothing stopping him from dragging you back to that facility. Natasha is correct in regards to your paperwork. You’re no free dog. It darkens your heart to think that you never have been and most likely you never will be. 

Seeing Tony stand in front of Wanda, testing the boundaries of her personal space, he intrudes and you immediately stand on your two feet and meet behind her, your firm front grazing against her back. Your hands ball into tight fists and the claws come back out, harshly they bite into your palms. 

That bright light of amber never once threatens to go out like a singular flame of a candle. It’s a shadowed threat to them that the wolf is just beneath the surface, staring them point blank in the eye, you witness the faint, fiery glow reflecting in their own eyes. 

Wanda is warmed by the heat of your body behind her, she almost finds herself leaning into you but refrains. She must remain strong in front of these men.

By the venom in your voice and the scarred recollection of something horrific past, she couldn’t underestimate these men, and especially not now. Not after what they’ve seen. 

She gestures for them to make themselves comfortable. A tactic she picked up from her father whenever he conducted business, the non verbal form of communication to guide fellow associates and company to relax themselves. 

Your eyes momentarily leave the tinted shades of Tony’s glasses, his eyes meeting yours after he sent a cheeky wink to Wanda, and your eyes narrow sharply when you spy Natasha coming around behind one of the sofas. With a baritone levelled hum, you catch Wanda’s gaze and you cock your head towards the desk, telling her to get behind it. 

It was a matter of ensuring she wouldn’t be in such close proximity with the mobsters, that if they dare to try anything, they have several feet to cross before they can even reach her. 

Wanda does as you indicate and with her head held high and shoulders dropped back, she struts to the large, red wood desk and takes a seat; once the men have taken theirs. 

‘Good girl.’

A ghost of a smirk crosses your features. You’re proud that she managed to pick up on a thing or two, given the position you’re both now caught in, she’s going to regain some of that stolen power. She sits in the tall backed seat, the dark green brings her even brighter shade to shine and almost ominously. The wired wall lights fuel the room with a dark orange halo, but the storm outside grows bolder, thunder begins to roll in to fill the void of silence. 

Each of the four men occupy the four sofas and Natasha lingers between Steve and Tony, she’s like a cat lounging happily, body poised against Tony’s sofa with darkened grace. And still she wears that prideful smirk. Your jaws clench hard, the familiar ache of your vice-like strength makes itself present and the muscles in your cheeks strain and flex. 

You join Wanda’s side, a clawed hand rests on the back of the seat, but unlike Natasha’s relaxed pose you take to carrying a sense of duty and responsibility - chest puffed out and shoulders straight. You’ve seen these very men and more of their own brotherhood operate in sit downs before. Letting your guard down is not an option. 

“So,” Wanda clears her throat and all eyes fall to her, “am I right to assume you want for a foothold in Europe?” You’re both amazed by how well she’s holding herself in front of Stark and his captains, but another part of you dreads how long she can keep it up for. 

“That’s right.” Tony smiles wide with a nod of his head. “I understand that the loss of your brother has struck quite a nerve among the European Families. We wish to lend our support to you and aid you in finding Rumlow. As far as I’ve heard, he has mysteriously gone silent since the attack.”

“But at the price and percentage of the Maximoff’s empire and holdings,” you cut in sharply, tone bitter from the audacity Tony dared to flaunt. He was a blood and power hungry tyrant hidden in the guise of a peacock, strutting around with his colourfully crime-stained feathers - accomplishments that weren’t lacking admiration by many.

The men before you each glare at you in warning to keep yourself in check. They mean to challenge you, to restrain you and remind you of your shackled status, just like the others that scorned you for doing what was not in your job description.

But Wanda doesn’t allow these men across the seas to get away with such iron-glad judgement. 

“Quite right, Y/N,” she praises, eyes bearing the form of daggers, “I cannot just simply agree to your support without knowing the finer details. Terms must be discussed, gentlemen, and I will not leave this meeting with no clean water in my basin.”

You feel the corner of your lips tug up at the flustered, annoyed sight of Tony and his men. Bucky and Steve glance to one another, the pure intent for murder springing to light as a bright flash of lightning blinks through the window. Loki looks to Tony, tight lipped and tongue to the cheek of his mouth in contemplation. 

Are they figuring out that the foundation of their newly gained power is beginning to struggle? Fuck, you hope so. 

“Then we’ll make our terms known,” said Sam with a danger-laced purr, “as a start, we want access to trade outposts and warehouses from Russia to Romania, as well as along the coast of Italy. On top of that, our asking price is fifty percent of the Maximoff holdings and shares, forty percent of earnings from the black market - twenty percent commission if the supplies are manufactured or supplied by us - and thirty-five percent earnt from legitimate business pools.”

You and Wanda spit in unison, “As a start?” 

They really were coming straight in with the big guns. Tony usually was direct, but had a way to honey the words into better luring in the fish. Sam, however, was more abrupt and bold in his demands. 

“I’m able to provide the necessary warehousing and trade routes for them in Russia,” Natasha affirms from her place, sharing a look with Tony. Was this part of some elaborate scheme? 

As far as you could tell, Natasha was on board with keeping Europe completely clean of the American mobsters and criminal empires. What changed? 

“No, that– that is too much…” Wanda’s stumbling over her words. She’s beginning to let those cracks show and you can see the telltale signs that the wolves are now closing in. Bucky smirks, dark, shoulder length hair casting a shadow over his bright blue eyes, nodding as he observes the ever faint breaking in Wanda’s resolve. 

“I have holdings in the military that rivals Rumlow, and as far as I’ve investigated, you are fundamentally lacking within the weapons trade and already, you’re beginning to be cut off from your intel and extortion resources. Really, the only reliable bird you have to your ear is this stunning fox,” Loki says with a hand gestured to Natasha, who waves a hand at him. 

“We have gained a surge of supply and demand for our weapons, thanks to me of course, and if you agree to our terms, I assure you that you’d want for nothing ever again.”

You cock your head to the side and narrow your eyes, a sliver of amber visible within them. As much as you would like to announce the man a thief, for being the likely one responsible for your out of pocket trades with weapons, you think better of it. 

‘We’re not known to be saints at our roots. Our foundations are built on thievery, murder and extortion.’

Tony Stark is a brilliant minded man when it comes to manufacturing products and supplies, both for the public and the underworld. He had quite the gallery. But even then, he wanted for more. He wanted plots to further his expansion. 

‘What if he asks…’

You swallow down the poisonous bile of wrath and disgust climbing your throat. No way in hell would you allow Tony to drop to one knee and live. If that is even his goal to ensure this alliance sticks. 

More and more, Wanda slinks away in her seat, shying away from it all as the walls break further under the pressure of this attack. 

Tony puffs his chest out, arrogant that their plan is working and weaving its way into the folds brilliantly, with Natasha there as a vouching card in their hand of cards. Steve and Sam both lean forward slightly and Loki grins again, pearly white teeth glistening and taunting in the ice blue haze of another lightning flash. 

Thunder rumbles in, louder than before, providing a baritone and ominous tumble of beats. The tension grows thicker and Wanda sits back in her seat, mouth agape in her dissipating will to remain strong, fearing that she’s truly trapped herself and her hands fiddle together under the cover of the desk. 

Something stirs within her core that pulls her green eyes to yours, slightly overstimulated and red with a glisten of tears, she’s telling you with her gaze alone that she needs your help. 

She needs her guard to protect her. 

With a furrow of your brow and hard pressed line of your lips, you assure her with a nod of your head. Wanda became painfully aware that she has to pass the reins over to you in this moment before it’s too late. 

Natasha’s face instantly drops before the initial change. All she had to witness was that plea in Wanda’s eyes and that obedient nod of your head, she straightens in her place, almost submissively shrinking away. 

The structure of your face begins to alter, morphing until the skin shreds around the protrusion of a long, canid snout and sharp fangs, Long, straight ears twitch from the brief moment of muffled noise, the fur on the nape of your neck mimics that of your hair and blends down the slope of your growing spine and outward stretching of your shoulders. You’ve grown several feet taller, if the men before you who now pin their backs to their designated seats had to guess it, they would have to summarise to at least eight and a half feet. 

Your clothes become ragged scraps that fall to the floor, and what little still clings over the form of your body is shredded at the bends of the fabric. 

Fur covers skin and a thick, bushy tail sweeps down to the wood panel floors, your body contorted to accuminate a thicker layer of skin and muscle, fur in a thinner density cascades down your front, most of the fluff of it covering from your shoulders and down the back of your arms and back. 

A sight to behold, you’ve changed into a monster to strike terror into the hearts of the mob bosses. Powerful men who know your weakness, who are most probably armed with that very weakness. But are they favouring their odds to make the first move? 

An angry bolt of lightning illuminates the scene for them, your hackle puffs up and with a fold of your ears, you snarl a viscous and predatory sound straight from the bowls of your gut, your very fur bristles from the vibrations throughout your body.

“Unacceptable. Try again.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Maximoff,” Tony says between clenched teeth, head tilting further back when you bend forward enough that your back stoops low and your larger head is at level with Wanda’s. 

The pink of your bared gums is slick with saliva, the long tendril of your tongue comes between your teeth, licking over the top of your lip and nose. 

“Put the dog away, young lady,” Tony attempts to order only for Wanda to shake her head, refusing to obey his order. A raspy snarl bellows in the hollow of your throat. 

“No, I think I’ll keep the wolf out.”

Tony visibly squirms in response to this denial. 

Wanda tilts her head and sensing her eyes on you, the burning furnace of yours glances back at her and she smiles. She’s finding that resurgence of confidence in the comfortable luxury of your protection. With you, she wants for nothing. 

“As they said. Let’s try this again,” Wanda says with her voice renewed with strength. 

“Come on, you can’t seriously think you can–”

“I think she can.”

Steve holds a hand of compromise up to cease the bickering on both sides of the deal. His eyes move between Tony and then you and Wanda. “We didn’t come here to fight, Miss Maximoff. But we’ve had this plan on the back burner for years.”

“How unfortunate for you,” Wanda interjects with a click of her tongue. Steve isn’t impressed with the sokovian’s accented sarcasm. With a huff through his nose, he continues, “your father was unable to be convinced. We had hoped that you may be better where he was not. We’re offering you support here, a life line, all you need is to grab hold of it and say yes.” 

Wanda’s brows pitch down and she gives the captain a chilling scowl that dare he admit haunts him, especially when such a beast at her side leans evermore forward, at the end of its tether and ready to attack. Never has he ever worried about you before during sit downs in the presence of your former bosses. 

They had their ways to keep you in line, the only time you would shift would be to kill some prisoner who had no further use and thus, no purpose to remain alive when privy to such information, or to maul a fellow gangster that didn’t see eye to eye on the table’s terms. 

Had they now turned into that very man?

Right now, Wanda held a dangerous animal in her grasp. With one command she can set you upon them and they would become the mauled victims in the meeting room. 

“Forty percent within the Maximoff holdings, twenty in the black market with a ten-to-ten split on commission to our own donated supplies, the other five we place into a shares fund that we both equally have access to but must come under agreement to use it,” he pauses and when he sees you both nod, he knows it’s safe for him to carry on. 

“For now, we want the trade outposts on the coastline of Italy and within Russia. We can sort out the finer details for warehouses elsewhere and the like at a later time. When Rumlow is kicked out of the fold, we refurbish you with his estates, a cut of his holdings and you can have access to those as warehouses and your own trade outposts. Some connect to fine routes that make for excellent business opportunities.”

Tony looks to have sucked on a lemon, lips pursed and dark brows pinched together. Bucky and Sam share much of the same expression, Loki although, appears mildly amused by these adjustments. 

You suspect that they had come together and agreed that they would not be swayed into lowering what they originally asked for. 

But all in all, you and Wanda find that to be your middle ground. She looks to you again as if to see if you approve. When she sees you nod to her, she knows she can continue. 

“Very well, I accept those terms.” She then lets her eyes flicker up to Natasha. “I trust that you do retain some level of loyalty to the Maximoff Family, Romanoff. So I will let you deal with the matter of your offer in regards to warehouses for our new… allies. But I admit, I cannot exactly wave you through freely into settling in Europe until Rumlow is dealt with. Permanently.”

Natasha nods to this, obviously in agreement with it. To what exactly her own intentions are in allowing them to have access to her own warehouses is primarily not your concern; your only concern is Wanda. But you’d be lying if you weren’t a little curious about Natasha's motives. 

There is a cold bitterness in Wanda’s final word. The grief still comes to her, the death still so fresh to her. And she plans to exact her vengeance against those who have taken almost everything from her. 

Although defeated, the men become more at ease, and with a wave of her hand, Wanda dismisses your overprotective stance. She stands up from her seat, finger pads planted on the smooth surface of the desk. 

Everyone of the four men eye Wanda, dark in their curiosity of her next move. “Now, about Rumlow…”

Tony clicks his tongue with a finger pointed upwards, memory finally catching up with him. He too stands up and for a moment you believe he intends to come at Wanda, your body jostles into action with a deep, rumble of a growl that fades into the next chorus of thunder. Wanda is quick to usher your calmness, hands delicate as she strokes the fur along your back and over the crown of your head. 

Tony slightly stumbled back on his heel but ultimately made it to the table by the window. His sights were set on the liquor. He helps himself easily to the fine brand of whiskey and downs a gulpful. “He was in America but he covered his trail. We cannot say for sure where he is.”

“So how can we find him?” Wanda asks to hide her groan of defeated annoyance. Tony peers over his shoulder, but his focus does not land on Wanda as you suspected. No. They land directly on you.

The way his eyes bear into you like that, it unknowingly unsettles you. You shift your weight on the four pillars of your limbs and your ears flatten against your head as Tony takes another languid sip of his drink, hissing in delight at the taste. 

“I know that he has a business partner that knows where he is. He’s In Madripoor. You may know him as Vision.”

Why, of all places, of the single partner to have knowledge of Rumlow’s whereabouts; why did it have to be Vision, Madripoor’s criminal overlord of the drug trade?

Each muscle in your face is touched by the sting of something best left forgotten, memories you wish you could just shake, a past that you wish every waking moment would leave you alone. You choke on a whimper, the sound weak and hitched tightly in your throat, it causes you to wince in phantom pain. 

“It’s awake. Vitals are stable for now.” 

A doctor whose identity remains hidden behind the white mask over their face, hovers in front of you, studying you behind the bars of your cage, they’re a voice drowned out by the overstimulated sense of your hearing. The background is filled with a high frequency ring, the people around you move in a blur, faces only recognisable and in focus in the line of your tunnel vision.

“Another dose.”

“Let me out!”

“Sir, if we give it anymore, it may have unforeseen side effects.”

“Another dose. As you wish, Sir.”

“Just give them the injection.”

“Let me out!”

That face you recognise haunts you, you scurry further away into your cage but no matter how far you retreat, the back of the cage pushes you forward until your face is against the bars and inches from his own. Alexander Pierce. 

His eyes marvel at the sight of you. He admires the near end product of you. His finest pet in the facility, the role model for the others, and a grand and valuable asset. But he needs this experiment to work.

Another face comes into focus and you cannot fight the roar that shreds through your throat. He ushers Alexander away for a moment, their backs to you as they speak, their words going unheard as another figure moves to block them out of your sight.

“Preparing the asset for injection of the serum.”

“No!”

A doctor approaches you and within the clutches of a gloved hand, they raise a needle high into the sight of your peripheral. The liquid bubbles in the tube, the white lights above blind your vision and make the serum glow a reddish pink. 

Your muzzle is restrained, but nothing physical holds it shut, by sheer force are you trapped in place inside that cage. 

You're carted out and laid atop a metal table, the surface is cold against your back. 

“Vitals are spiking, we need to tranquilise the asset now.” 

“They can take it. I know they can.” 

“Let me out!”

The sting of the needle penetrates the thick layer of your hide. Your fur bristles, your heart pounds heavily in your chest and your mouth feels dry and hot. 

Your body violently convulses. Muscles become strained and skin constricts you, like leather straps holding you down, your very own skin holds you prisoner. In your chest a scream is locked deep inside. Your leg kicks out in a desperate flurry to move, the act is only half successful before a cramp reels your leg back into a trapped status. 

“Y/N?...”

All you can do is pant, loud and thick in the overly bright lab, it feels so cramped being surrounded by these blurred ghosts. 

“I don’t want this!”

“Mr Pierce, Sir, it may not take to the serum still. It’s body fights it.”

“They can take it. I know they can.” 

“Second dose of the serum. Rumlow, please stand by in case of emergency execution.”

“I never wanted any of this!”

Your mind begins to cloud and mist over, your vision turns a shade of that reddish pink, you can hear the unsynced rhythm of all the collective heartbeats in one room. Your muscles spasm in timed units of two minutes, three minute gaps in between your muscles fall lax against the table. 

Your natural body heat increases and you feel as though you’re burning away. But you’re not feeling the desired effects of the poison now flowing through your veins. You writhe and shake against the invisible restraints. 

“Let me go home!”

You want to go home. Where is home? You have no idea what or where home is but all you have is a feeling. A deep-rooted feeling. Is it somewhere far away from here? It must be. It feels long gone. 

Home can’t be the facility. Not in the iron bars, not the metallic and clanky shackles that bind you in place, that keep you there against your will. Home doesn’t restrain you. It comforts you. 

“Where is home?”

Your own voice echoes but nobody reacts. It falls into the deafness of the void. They refuse to listen to the asset of their experiment. 

“Where is home?”

Home cannot be the cold concrete of your cage, or the moth riddled lights that paint only the centre of your cage in a sickly yellow tint. Your home is elsewhere but forgotten. Never seen by you. Never embraced by you nor are you embraced by it. 

“M-Mother!”

Shock rattles you, your vision flashes white before that reddened tint returns over your vision. You see your mother opposite of you, laid on a similar table but she’s turned on her back. Her ribcage is torn open and exposed. 

“You’ll be alright, Y/N. Just think of me and you’ll be alright.”

Her body is knocked to the floor and instantly, the world around you is swallowed up by darkness. You smell the dried odour of blood and rotten meat. Only that shitty yellow light flickers to illuminate her body. From the darkness you see the foul creatures leap out and tear her apart. Their eyes are whitened with madness. Their minds are tortured into a spiral of neverending want for carnage. Lost to the touch of their humanity. 

She cries out, howling and yelping as they shake her apart, her body remains still throughout the attack. She cries out to you. She’s begging you not to watch, urging you to never see it happen. Try as you might, you attempt to claw your way towards her, to defend her. You can’t. You’re unable to protect her from those monsters. No matter how far you crawl, the back half of your body dragging behind you like dead weight, you can never get any closer.

“Ready the injection.”

“Vitals are peaking, we cannot risk another dose so soon.”

“We’re losing vitals, we’re losing it!”

“Ready the injection.”

“Give them a moment. They’ll pull through.”

Your back, laced sweat, arches up from the bed, a groan is on the edge of your lips but cannot escape. You’re fighting. Fighting and struggling against it, it will not let you go. You struggle about, rocking your body from side to side, your muscles fall loose for a few seconds. 

You try to cease this moment. But then you’re trapped again. Pulled back into the mixture of torment. 

“Y/N, wake up. Y/N!””

Everything is dark red, the erratic pulse of your heart flushes pink in time with each coursing beat, the voices are drowning in the song. 

Your mother is strewn about the cage, the corners blacked out, bleeding into the void beyond.

Your breath stills as the yellow light shuts off with a whirring moan. 

You’re back in the lab. Alexander’s hand grips at the fur along your neck until he’s tugging it harsh enough to rip it out. “Don’t you dare give in, dog. Embrace it. I need this to work. I’m counting on you.”

You just want your mother back. But she can’t come back to you. She’s gone. She’s taken from you. Has been for a long time now. 

You grew up in that cage alone. 

Suddenly you’re knocked off that metal examination table. You see a woman in the blackness of the cage’s corner. She weeps into the crook of her elbows, hands bloody and clutching onto the iron bars. Her feet slip in the inky, crimson puddle at her feet whenever she tries to pull herself up to stand. 

Her naked body is covered in blood and marks made by claws and teeth. It’s… confusing. 

“G-get away– f-from me! M–monster!”

A shroud of dizziness cloaks your mind and you stumble slightly on your hind legs. Your vision goes from dark to bright, unable to make its decision and commitment. You see now that your clawed hands are covered in a warm and thickened substance, crimson and smells of iron. 

“Another failed attempt.”

“Mr Pierce, the experiment has ended in another failure. It’s body cannot adapt to the serum as we hoped.”

Alexander Pierce glares at you from the window in the observatory room. His lips screwed into a thin line and his brows troubled by the news. His fists clench together until his knuckles turn white. 

“What did you make me do to her!”

“Mark them down as unbreedable. Gas it.” 

The vents hiss with an aggressive poison clouding the cage. You can’t see through the green haze, your lungs slowly giving out the more you breathe in the gut wrenching scent of the gas. The taste is awful on your tongue and soon enough, you taste bile along with it. Your body lurches forward and you fall. 

The woman’s face had been hidden, unable to make out any distinct features, to put a face to an unknown name. She lays ahead of you some feet away, the gas having killed her far quicker than you. 

Her hair that you swear was once a chocolate brown colour is now brighter. Her eyes lost that light of life but you can make out the green shade of them, and that unknown face and unknown name is now identifiable, you can hardly believe who you see before you - with you - dead in that cage. 

“W–Wanda…”

You cough and sputter as the air in your lungs becomes far too polluted to continue breathing. A low, sombre howl fills the chamber and your vision goes dark. 

“Y/N!” 

Finally you find the willpower to scream and it utterly terrifies Wanda, chilling her to the core at the horrific shrill and raw intensity that ensures your vocal cords are shredded and sore. The much needed reprieve that brings tears to her eyes and a hand to clasp over her lips to keep herself from sobbing aloud, all because you’re in pain, you’re suffering, and she fears she’s unable to help you. 

“Wanda! Wan… Wanda…” Your shoulders rise and fall in rapid succession, chest taking in the fresh air that thankfully isn’t polluted by the gas, only the four walls that are now imprinted with your screams. 

She crawls the small distance between you both across the bed. When she finally reaches your side she brings your head to her chest as she ushers you to relax, the rest to that scarred mind filled to the brim with horrors you want to forget. You can’t forget. 

However, the world is still a little fuzzy, at least it appears that way, as if the fogginess followed you out of that world and into this one. You wish to call it a nightmare, and it was for the most part, but the most ghastly and haunting nightmares always stem from the evil roots of the past. 

“Wanda… oh, fuck, Wanda.” You sigh in your relief and you don’t hesitate to pull her to you, face burying into her chest, absorbing this one good thing that is her - just her - before the claws of that darkness tears you from her; and you fear for good. 

You can always feel yourself slipping. You’ve run, only to continue slipping, and you still run, only to remain slipping away. No matter what, you know you’re falling into madness. 

It’s just a matter of time. You’re a ticking time bomb at this point. And you’re left to wonder, how will you protect her then?

“Shh, shh… I’m here, Y/N. I’m here,” she whispers against your scalp, lips beating down a warm breeze that begins to recharge you and make the fuzziness go away. 

Is this home? It’s uncertain but maybe it can be. 

‘Maybe she is my home.’

“It’s okay, not real, Y/N. You’ll be alright.” Your arms pull tighter around her, the words of your mother echo in the misty haze of your memory, tears prick at the corner of your eyes. She whines softly that you’re squeezing her too hard. With an uttered apology into her breasts, you slightly ease your iron grip so she is able to breathe. 

You don’t ever want her to experience being at a loss for air, to never suffer the suffocation she had to in your nightmare. All you want for her is her safety. There is nothing else. 

But this is war and when love is thrown into the fray and spied as a weak point, there is no level of fairness to what comes next. 

ACT III: MIXING POISON WITH PLEASURE

A FEW DAYS LATER

Streaks of light reflectively race across the sleek, black coat of the escort car as it passes over the long draw of the bridge. Steve and Bucky occupied the driver and passenger seats, the tinted shield muffles the snippets of their conversation. Perhaps old friends reminiscing on memories, talk of minor business advantages, all of which you can only suspect without much confirmation. 

Tony and Sam sit across from you with their backs to the tinted panel, leaving you and Wanda to be the target of their sharp and penetrating observation, done so in silence. 

Silence that is broken by Tony taunting you, his new hobby since being stuck on a jet together for a few hours prior to the drive. “Excited to be going back? A lot of familiar sights and faces to get reacquainted with.” 

Something in your stomach flips and your palms grow clammy, eyes fluttering from side to side as you chase to calm the unease setting into your shoulders, heavy with the weight of the question upon you. 

Your eyes freeze when Wanda’s eyes meet yours, a faint crinkle in her brows prods you inaudibly for clarification. An answer to the mystery of your place exactly in Madripoor. 

A part of your past that you left ambiguous and for good reason. Wanda’s parents were the only ones who had knowledge of your origins, so to speak. How exactly you made your exit from the facility and right into the employment of some prideful overlord. 

“Not particularly,” you answer quietly, the answer dry on your tongue. Ice clinking together when he orientated his wrist to churn the liquor, Tony chuckles over the rim of his glass, the nervousness in your tone a dead giveaway to the truth of your feelings. Repressed to save face. 

“You’re rather well known among the populace,” Sam chimes with a cold drawl. His eyes are thinned into a glare. “For reasons… Well, I’m sure you know why. Can’t say the same for her.” 

His head cocks in Wanda’s direction and you feel that worry simmer more in the pit of your stomach. 

“Y/N, what are they talking about?” Wanda finally asks, voice strained by the betrayal of her hurt, the seed planted in her mind that she is some sort of outsider to the information that passes between you and the two men seated before you.

“It’s nothing, Wanda.” Your answer is fired too quickly to simply mean nothing. No, she knows you’re hiding something sinister. 

“You know,” Tony sighs to conceal a gurgle in his throat, “I’ve said to Steve once that I don’t trust people without a dark side. But you…” 

He utilises one finger to point at you, accusation at his fingertip, the ice clinks harshly against his glass now. “You’re the exception. I don’t trust you because you have too much of a dark side.”

Your brows pull down hard and your lips curl into a tight frown. You feel the animal stir below the surface of your skin. Your muscles tense until the skin begins to strangle around them. Outside, the familiar buzz of criminal life and night lights give away your location. 

“And why exactly do you think I have too much?” 

Your nightmare from that night comes to you in flashes. Perhaps Tony is right in his given reason…

He taps a finger to his temple slowly. “Because, I’ve found that Alexander’s werewolves always tend to be fucked up in the head.”

This underlying fact is not exactly news to you. But hearing it from another person, it begins to dawn on you. The slipping away. Your eyes falter until they see nothing but the toes of your boots.

Never would you think that you’d be on route to Madripoor. Back to the established territory of all crime, the residential host of the black market. A place which incidentally led you on the path you lead now, despite still lacking your freedom, the Maximoff Family did allow you some sense of it. 

But you still weren’t in complete control of your life. When children mature, they’re expected to go out into the world and make a piece of it their own. When you matured, you were put out into the field and ordered to complete that task. And then another after that, and so on. Never given the chance to make a little piece of the world yours. 

The world - the criminal world - made you theirs. 

And because Alexander did a fantastic job in rearing an obedient pet, you were an expensive investment. Surely enough to continue pouring funds into the project that supplied loyal hounds into service. Last you heard, more and more werewolves came into demand after your rise of succession. 

And a good part of it began here. Now Madripoor remembers you just as much as you remember it. 

Steve pulls off to the side of the street, engine purring lowly, Bucky pats his shoulder before he shuffles out of the car. Sam pulls a handgun from the hidden holster in his jacket, checks over the magazine and slots it back in. Tony pours himself another drink as you, Wanda and Sam also exit the car.

“I’ll see you guys when you get back to the hotel. Try to stay out of trouble, dog.”

You rasp over the curve of your shoulder, eyes burning with that dangerous amber. Tony snaps his fingers at you to garner your attention. “Hey, keep the eyes from doing that. You’ll be recognizable enough, don’t let that get you pulled into a messy fight.” 

You grumble in response to his warning. Like he’s ever been in a messy fight, too busy firing the gun when his assailant's back is turned. Wanda stands right next to you, brushing against your arm. Draped over her body is a long, fox fur coat that reaches the ankle of her black heeled boots. Her chin tucks into the soft textured collar to keep something of her identity unrevealed. 

If she is discovered so early before you locate the man you’re looking for, things could escalate into that messy fight Tony wants you to stay out of. With a wave of his hand, the car pulls out and speeds off down the strip, leaving the four of you on the sidewalk, left at the entrance way that leads down into the slums of Lowtown. 

It’s like Madripoor was frozen in time, everything is how you remember it. The dark and neon black market scene, stalls and cube stores packed with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the cluster of smaller gangs. The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

The only thing that has changed only serves to prove Tony’s case; there are more werewolves about. Beasts loyally shackled to their masters, bought and enslaved to obey. In passing, you spot a rather poor sight. You’ve seen gangsters put their skill into the ring countless times and a way to earn reputation and some cash. 

However, now they’ve taken it further and put werewolves into the pits. The crowd enveloping the ring cheer and shout, arms pumping in their enthusiasm for their bet to win. Meanwhile, two wolves are pitted against each other. A male and female, her body is more lean - and dare you admit it with a gulp - scrawny looking than the male’s. He’s been taken under someone with finer living circumstances than her, better resources and care. 

Bucky, Sam and Wanda follow your stern inspection of the fight. You smell their mingling scents of unease at the sight. 

“So this is what Tony meant,” you sneer. Bucky and Sam don’t answer you but you just know that if they did, they would confirm it. 

The male has the female pinned, she yelps and in a flurry of panic, she snaps her jaws around the bulk of muscle on his shoulder, her teeth doing little to rip into the flesh hard enough to get him to back off. 

He’s enjoying the torment of her struggle. The way he isn’t rushing to finish off the fight, idle in his stance above her as he holds her down. 

It truly sickens you. Humans can be a foul lot, corrupt in their ways of seeking entertainment to cure their boredom and wealth to cure themselves of poverty. But it’s all you know. 

Even then, a deep-seeded growl emanates from you and rumbles the tension laced air around your companions when you see the male become aroused by the squirming female. 

“Come on,” Sam says rather quickly and wraps a hand around your bicep, dragging you away before you do something that will get them into trouble. 

Wanda gawks at the monstrous sight, the female’s whines and howls echo in her ears, perverting her with images she never wanted to ever conjure up while Bucky steers her after you and Sam with equal haste to his partner.

You take no leisurely pleasure in walking through these parts and it doesn’t help that you get questioning glances from the large variety of locals. You too follow in Wanda’s lead in keeping your identity on the down low, you use the high collar of your jacket to keep your features unrecognisable to the crowd. 

Sam and Bucky tail behind you both with a lax swagger to their step, eyes taking in the neon and polluted scenery around them. The slums are where the amateurs and those smaller gangs operate freely and without much prejudice. Above the poverty, Hightown shines with the more luxurious affordability, belonging to the bigger fish, the real criminal powers. 

And Vision has that power within that grasp. Up there, rubbing elbows with the grand gentlemen and dolled up women, mingling and gaining alliances under his belt. So why venture into Lowtown? 

Because once, these streets harboured a terrible incident, one that now leaves your face smeared on for show as wanted. Because just down the series of lanes and roundabouts of corners, there is a divide between the common criminals and Vision’s depot, because it also operated as a factory. 

“So you’re not going to tell me anything about what was said back there?” Wanda asks. You tilt your head and you catch the sharp incline of her raised brow, her eyes piercing through the veil of your clouded, troubled thoughts. 

“Not really something I want to go into detail about.” She huffs at your response. Ever the one to avoid the topic whenever the subject revolves around you. 

It’s little wonder how she knows what she does about you. “So you have some sort of history with these men in particular, you have some estranged connection with Vision and with Madripoor, and to top it all off: Tony doesn’t trust you because of this supposed… dark side. What is it you’re hiding from me, Y/N?”

She’s getting assertive with each word as she walks in stride with you, eyes glaring up from the curtain of her hair, still keeping her chin as low as possible. Your lip curls up to reveal sharp, elongated canines. 

You rasp coldly, “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

There is a challenge in those green eyes of hers, unrelenting to be brushed off. After the connection you both shared, the way your lips were in sync with one another and how your bodies melded together in the heat of that feral passion and need. She thought you could trust her, to be more open with her. 

It seems she was wrong. 

“Don’t take it to heart, Miss Maximoff,” Bucky drawls from behind and a growl resounds in your chest, “Y/N is what we tend to call a wounded dog. Licking the wounds of their injured pride because they can’t afford to let anyone in.”

“And on top of that, they end up all fried in the head,” adds Sam with a venomous tune. You can just sense the dance of his eyes, brows high and cheekbones drawn down in his taunting. 

If they were trying to get a rise out of you, they were succeeding much to the unwelcomed behest of your annoyance, maybe filling in for Tony’s absence. But if they intended to heed Wanda with a warning of who you were before your employment as a guard for the Maximoff Family, then you fear that this is also a succession in the making. 

Wanda stops in place and turns to face the two men behind her, willing herself to not shy away from them or the way they tower over her. “You speak of my guard as if they are purely a mad-driven, bloodthirsty animal who has no grasp of the human they are. Wolf beneath or not. Show some respect or else.”

Sam and Bucky also stop, causing you to commit halfway in turning to look at the scene. Sam sighs as his eyes divert from the Sokovian heiress. “Apologies, Miss Maximoff.”

But just like that, the act switches and he gestures with a hand, a dark smirk on his lips. “But look at this. I mean, criminals are wanted all the same. But in Madripoor? My, that is one persevering poster. One mean lookin’ animal.”

You snarl towards Sam and Bucky as they guide Wanda’s sights to the screen panel that displays a photo of you. Written beneath, it states the price rewarded for your capture and turn over to none other than Vision. 

100,000 Madripoor dollars. 

Her gloved hand lifts up, her plump lips - lips that you want nothing more than to savour and taste against yours again - agape in their shock to find a piece to the mysterious puzzle that is you and your shrouded past. A past you preserve in the shadows and where she believes you intend to keep it. 

Away from her. Out of sight, out of mind.

Out of your own fucking mind. A twisted and corrupt mind. Is what these men say true? Are you some wounded hound licking at the gaping festering scars of your past mistakes and vulnerability? 

Her fingers curl forward, mere inches away from the display of your face, fingertips just caressing the digital profile of your jawline when a hand snaps hold of her wrist. The grip is tight and a gasp is torn from her lungs, eyes watery in their gaze as they stare into yours; that amber hellfire prominent beneath the cooler tones of the neon lights and grey tinted smog. 

Your jaw is clenched hard. She’s really struck a nerve now, unintentionally, but still, another attempt at crossing that line leaves you with a bitter taste of something resentful. Ashamed. 

“Let’s go.” You leave no room for her to argue. With a hand on the small of where her back is, your hand momentarily feels the true soft, silkiness of her coat, you push her forward to continue walking. Then your eyes lift up to meet eye to eye with Tony’s men, the two of them basking in the way you hide Wanda from yourself. 

Twin smirks stretching their lips, they both chuckle in cause of their muted plot. Now you’re beginning to think they’re trying to poison Wanda against you. 

“What? We’re just trying to help the two of you bond, being some couple and all…” Bucky hums with a shrug, blue eyes darting between you and Wanda curiously. 

“We’re not–” You bite the words that become overthrown when Sam’s hand slaps your arm. 

“Besides, it’d make an interesting story for the kids.” 

They walk now, passing on either side of you like the haunting walls of a tunnel that locks you into that place where your nightmare meets you halfway, blurring it all together. 

‘Fuck, I hate this place!’

You take one look at the wanted poster, eyes shadowed heavily by the furrow in your brows. That’s when an idea springs to mind. Your crazy and fucked up mind… with a crazy and perhaps fucked up idea. 

“Yo, you coming or what?” Sam hollers out to you and you visibly stumble back a couple of steps, shaking your head of whatever came over you there. A sense of sinking finds itself in your stomach again. 

“Come on, the depot is up this way.”

You briskly walk past all three members of your company, blatantly you avoid looking in Wanda’s eye, simply pushing her forward again, as gently yet urgently as you can muster. 

At the end of the street and another few corners and you were where you needed to be. Behind the tall chain link fencing, the yard is crawling with security as expected, watching over the compound’s goods waiting to be loaded into the trucks waiting in the docking bays. Thankfully, the guards pay no mind to you, as if you don’t exist to them. Ghosts within the smog. 

“So this is it, huh?” Bucky sneers with a visage of judgement. “Doesn’t look like much to me.”

“Because this is one of his ‘private’ storehouses that also happens to be the manufacturing powerhouse of his supplies,” you retort over your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, you need to explain this to me again. You want us to turn you in for the reward money?” Wanda cannot believe what her ears hear. This will now be the fourth time you’ve had to reiterate your proposed plan of getting in. 

“There’s no way they’ll just let us in. And if we sneak in, Vision will most likely flee. We gotta lure him in.”

“By using you as bait,” Wanda clarifies and you nod. She’s shaking her head, now in sheer, utter disbelief. 

“No no, this could actually work.” Sam taps a finger to his chin, the gears in his head turning the wheels of schemes. “But if we’re going to do this, we gotta rough you up a little bit. Make it look like we’ve dragged you into the joint.”

Your brows arch in a way that expresses your confusion. “What exactly are you–” 

Given no more time to question him, Sam strikes his arm forward into a left hook, and shit, did he go all in for it. The adrenaline in your blood pumps but not before the initial sting of the surprise attack hits you first. Wanda makes a noise between a gasp and a horrified shriek, her hands cup over her nose and mouth to muffle the sound. 

“The fuck!” you spit harshly, biting back on the urge to shift right there and then. Sam had distracted you with his left and now he swiftly drives his right fist into your gut, forcing your back to the brick wall of the building next to you. 

“Sh-shit, okay… n-now I get it…” Sam only nods with a shit eating grin and you’re convinced he’s enjoying this, soaking it in and will most likely brag about it to Tony and the rest of them. 

“Come on, Buck, let’s rough them up.” Bucky didn’t need anything else to motivate him to join in, he steps around Wanda and at Sam’s side, he also drives a hard hitting punch into your stomach that causes you to keen forward with a groan. 

Your head hangs forward and Sam brings his right knee up and butts your nose, splitting it. You grimace with a pained wince to keep a temperamental roar at bay.

Yeah, they’re fucking enjoying this. 

You’re not even close to recovering, swaying on your two feet as a hand nurses the space between the bottom of your ribcage and stomach, you lift your head only for Sam to land a knock to the corner of your brow, temple buzzing a little. That’s when Bucky comes in with an upward strike, your lip busted in the fray of his blow. 

You can only growl and grunt, having to further suppress the wolf below the surface so it doesn’t come back with an attack of its own. 

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Wanda hisses at the three of you. After a few more hits to sell the act, Bucky pulls his handgun free of its holster, racks the slide and puts it to your bruised temple. 

“Adding a little bit of realism to the play. If we walk in and they’re not a little bit bruised up, then they’ll know something’s up,” reasons Sam with a glance to Wanda who shrugs, that scowl of her disapproval showing in all its glory. 

The cute way her nose scrunches a little. Fuck, you can’t help but grin yourself with a breezy, husky chuckle, eyes sly as they look Wanda up and down. It must be the rush of adrenaline and pain that’s gotten you a little riled up.

“We have to make it believable,” you drawl, voice hinted with a lacing of sarcasm, but Wanda cannot help the way it stirs her core; nickname and all. Those eyes you’re giving her are doing things that make her cheeks become dusted with a pink hue. 

Wanda shakes her head and she crosses her arms, firm in her resolve that getting the shit beaten out of you is a little more than crazy, in fact, she thinks it’s completely psychotic. No less, you weren’t given a fair warning in the beginning and now here you are, it’s like you’re getting off on being brutally beaten. 

For you, it gave you a weird sense of reprieve. It took you away from the usual routine of pain and replaced it with something new - fresh - and it made you feel alive. 

Much like when you shared a few passionate sessions of expressive want with Wanda. That kindling of being alive after wandering around, licking your wounds, feeling dead in a way to the world.

“I-I don’t think that was called for,” Wanda utters once her bottom lip is safely hidden beneath the fur of her collar. She’s shielding herself, her embarrassment and you can’t help the way the wolf becomes intrigued, head tilting to the side with that shimmer of amber passing over your eyes. 

“If it gets us closer to Vision, then it’s worth every punch. Now come on, you looker, let’s hand you over to ‘em,” Bucky grins with a dark chuckle.

Your hand moves up to cradle your jaw, the scent of blood wafts into your nose and coats your tongue, Wanda’s heels clap against the pavement as she walks up to you. Her hand brushes along your hand and replaces it. She’s observing your face, a soft and troubled frown does little to hide the true concern from her orbs, ever so delicately glazed with a watery coat. 

“I hated that,” she drawls with a strong and lowered lilt of her Sokovian accent. You can only find it within yourself to flash her a smirk. 

“I don’t think this is the right plan. What if they actually take you away? Y/N, I don’t have any clue as to what’s going on here, but it just sounds like a terrible idea.” 

“Wanda, you just have to trust me.”

There’s hesitation in her eyes, you can see it, conflicting with her want to trust in you, but how exactly could she just go along with this plan? She never saw it at the time, but now she knows Vision is a dangerous man, and whatever history you have with him makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. Who knows what you’re all walking into.

Still, she bows her head in agreement and you both tail after Bucky and Sam who weren’t too far up the way. “Are we ready?” Sam asks while Bucky repositions his gun at level with your head. 

“Ready,” you reply and Wanda mumbles her own answer. With a roll of your shoulders, breathe in and out, adjusting yourself before you enter the lion’s den and then you let Sam and Bucky direct you inside as Wanda tucks herself to Bucky’s other side, a little distant from him. 

“Hey, what’re you doing here? This is private property, you need to leave.” One of the guards stationed at the front gate of the depot approaches, gun in hand as he stares your group down, a few of his fellow guards also take a wary stance in your arrival. 

Bucky cocks his gun against your jaw, tilting it up to showcase to the guard.

“We saw your wanted pet. Now we’re here to collect.” 

The guard’s firm and sceptical gaze moved between the three before they settle on you, squinting in a moment of faint remembrance, out of knowledge by seeing your poster or because he was maybe one of the guards who worked here and remembers you by face, he gruffly huffs with a cock of his head. 

“Yeah, bring it in. Take the stairs down when you get in and head through, the guard there will let you pass.”

The sound of a buzzer sounds off and it shakes your brain like nails on a chalkboard. The chain link fence rattles to life and slides open, the guard above loom as dark shadows from the white blaring lights behind them. 

With a small mock salute, Sam passes the guard, following closely at his side now is Wanda and Bucky nudges you forward. You have to hand it to them, they know how to get an in. You distinctly remember seeing them bring in numerous prisoners and deadbeats who refused to pay up. 

The guard wrinkles his nose at you and with a gurgle in his throat, spits at your feet. You almost break character with a laugh, dark and sinister before you imagine tearing him open until he’s nothing but bite sized chunks for the local street dogs. 

The guard unlocks the door with a keycard and pin, the metal door hisses as it swings open. Entering the building and ignoring the way your stomach knots up, the pungent smell of iron, fuel and a hint the residue of the facility’s drugs suffocates your lungs and blocks your nose from smelling anything else, anyone’s scent. 

You take the immediate stairs to your right, the hallway ahead blocked off, reserved as the onsight dormitory for security. Down into the depths of the factory, you walk the narrow walkway in the otherwise spacious room, rooms to both your left and right sealed off into smaller cubical styled holdings, protected under padlock and doors fashioned from old cages. 

Old cages big enough to house something like you.

Another door is opened by the occupying guard watching over the room. He shares the same scornful look the first guard at the gate did, however, you pick out his features and identify him as one of the unlucky men who was caught in the crossfire. The side of his head closest to you and his jaw is mangled and flesh wrinkled, all down his neck before his vest and shirt cuts off the rest of the damage inflicted.

Again, you almost break character, but not because some guard had the audacity to disrespect your boot. No, it’s because of the memories in the lab you now stand in. It took Bucky a hard shove when he noticed your hesitance to cross the threshold. His need to remind you of the loaded barrel pinned to your jaw forces you to brave the nightmare before you. 

The adrenaline, that smugness you airily carried. All gone. Your lungs give way to a shaken inhale and your eyes take in your surroundings of the lab. 

It’s been a while since last you saw of the place, and nothing much has changed. No less the man in charge. Seeing him now, it really is a packing punch to the gut, your insides violently churn with a sickening swell of bile. This is an encounter you’d wish would never come to pass but here you are now, all to find out where Rumlow is. You had to stiff upper lip and face the broken record you left behind you. 

But seeing him only makes this harder. Dressed down into a white, button up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, he stands with his back to you, leaning his weight to one side. 

“Yo, heard you were looking for a lost pet?” Sam hollers, garnering the man’s attention.

He turns to leer at you four, blue eyes cold and malicious, pupils shrunken in the way of a madman and hair haphazardly sweeps past his ear, shrouding half his face in shadow. Lines form on the outskirts of his cheeks with a deranged smirk. 

“Ah. You found it,” he hisses in glee, “I must thank you sincerely for this delivery.”

You’re brought forward at the nudging of Bucky and now you stand under the scrutiny of Vision himself. A man-made monster by his own devices. His upper body contorts to lean forward slightly, head tilting heavily on its axle to gauge your expression, to probe at your mind, just as he had done so many other times. 

Furthermore, it does little to boost your self-esteem when he whistles and snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Are you in there, dog?”

You swallow without response. With a snort of amusement, he’s satisfied by the compliance of your silence; your defeated resolve to fight back - though he does enjoy a good show from time to time. To see the rage burn in your eyes like a fearsome storm of fire. One that swears to devour him in the flames of your wrath once you broke free of your shackles. A storm that never came to pass until that fateful night, but a storm that didn’t sweep him away into ash. 

He directs his attention to someone else and only then does your upper lip curl into a snarl, a feral sound of an animal under threat, or in this case, Wanda being under threat, Vision sneers at your attempt to intimidate him. 

“Always one with a temper,” he sighs as if reminiscing on those memories, like they were days of happier times. Perhaps they were to him.

“Wanda, it’s good to see you again after all this time.” He pulls her hand up to grace her gloved knuckles with his lips, the eyes of a predator drinking in the sight of her discomfort. 

“Vision.” Her tone of voice is cold. Strict and aimed sharply as a dagger to penetrate the fortitude of his unwanted advances. Vision was never one to take a hint. Much like Wanda’s lack of knowledge of you, you were left in the dark in regards to her relation to Vision.

Now you see it. They at some point in the past shared some form of intimate connection. One that she inevitably regrets with every fibre of her being that uses her body to shield herself. She all but rips her hand from his grip, her other hand subconsciously wipes at her knuckles. Vision quirks a dirty blonde brow up in the face of her denying act towards his given affections. 

To ease the infectious growth of humiliation on his part, he shoves his shoulders back and cocks his head. “Come, you must be paid for a job well done.” 

He directs two guards, two of your own kind, rendered obedient to his command, to lead you away from Wanda, Sam and Bucky. She’s mortified once your presence is eliminated from the group, leaving the three of them alone with Vision. 

Bucky and Sam are quick to catch the wary glare you cast their way, a low threat to not abandon you there, to not let this play act go too far; the last thing you want to do is fall back into that pattern. To have Wanda be subjected to just a taste of what ordeals and trials you had to endure. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother. He had a bright future ahead of him.” Vision’s condolences die on the tip[ of his tongue, turning into ash that rots away any ounce of sincerity for her loss. She cannot bring herself to respond verbally. 

Wanda is moreso driven apart from you by Vision, his hand a little too close to lingering too low on her back, the sight of it forces a growl from between your clenched teeth, the two guards overseeing you snarl in your direction. 

Obedient pets to him, twisted into a falsehood of loyalty. Wolves corrupted by the unfortunate dealings of their upbringing. Much like the ones in the fighting ring, like you, they don’t lead their own lives. They do as they’re told. They obey.

Following where the drug overlord ventures, he leads the three of them over to a far table in the corner, procuring a black suitcase. He hands it to Bucky. 

“There we are, 100,000 Madripoor Dollars.”

Your eyes glance from the shackles to Sam and Bucky with narrowed eyes. Silently, through eye contact alone, you’re telling them to hurry the fuck up and spring into action, to get the situation under their control before things take a turn for the worst. 

“Now, if you’ll be on your way, gentlemen–”

“We’d like to have the money recounted. Just in case, you know. Wouldn’t want the boss to feel cheaped out of our work,” Bucky snips suddenly before Vision could turn them away. He also notices the way Vision leers at Wanda like a salivating beast, no doubt he’d try to keep her with him as he practically booted them out the front gate. 

This comes as a hindering surprise to the man, blue eyes glassed over with something void of any true human emotion. 

With a nod of his head, he beckons over one of his assistants, and the summoned woman takes the case from Bucky to ensure the promised amount is all accounted for. 

“What’s your whole deal with the mutt? Why pay such a hefty price for ‘em?” Sam questions, tilting his head in your direction. If they were here to divulge information about Rumlow, he wanted to make sure they knew exactly what they were getting themselves into.

Vision turns to follow where the man was looking and a dark smirk crosses his lips. Your eyes glow with the animal’s boiling rage, a formidable sight to behold and marvel at. He’s missed having you as his lab pet. 

At first, Vision is reluctant to share his thoughts, however, something that is unreadable to your observant gaze, his smirk turns into a wide grin that causes Wanda’s complexion to pale. 

“The Asset is among the very first of its kind to achieve such accomplishments. Paving the way for its kind. An investment with so much poured into it,” answers Vision. 

“Would you like to see what my work entails?” His own question, laced in deranged malice, is met by three unsure visages. 

‘What the actual fuck are they doing?’

Without so much as a word, Vision is herding them off behind a large control panel, screens displaying all sorts of data and diagrams of humanoid and werewolf anatomy. “As I am sure, you know I was partnered with Alexander Pierce for his little project.”

“Was?” Sam sneers in confusion. 

Vision nods slowly. “Yes. After… numerous trials ending in failure, Pierce cast me aside. Told me that my work wasn’t good enough, that for all my progress with the serum, the desired goal wasn’t meeting his expectations.” He pauses to calm the venom behind his words. His eyes glare at the screens before they rise to meet your harrowing stare.

“Prepare it for trial exposure to serum SX-P,” he commands his workers, lithe fingers jabbing expertly against the keyboard. 

“So why exactly did Pierce get rid of you?” Bucky asks now and Vision takes a moment to cease his actions and turn to look at him. 

“Alexander’s campaign was relatively new and industrial to begin with. At first, potential investors weren’t convinced that werewolves could be rendered ‘tame’ to serve as liable enforcers and guards. There was a lack of trust in his project—” Vision began before needing to pause, the sound of your irritated growls bouncing off the four walls of the expansive lab as you’re led by the guards.

They shove you down to sit on the horizontal, metallic surface that centre’s the room. But you’re not going to make it easy for them, play acting or not. You thrust an elbow back, colliding into one of the two guards who stumbles back with a pained howl, hand nursing their broken nose that weeps with blood, the other guard retaliates with the butt of his gun. Your head lurches to the side, further damage to your already busted lips runs down the side of your chin. 

His partner comes around for round two, fist raised high to land a blow to your contorted snarl, but Vision reels him back in with a single command. “Enough! I need it in as good condition as I can get it.”

He glares at one of the nerve wracked doctors. “And put the muzzle on the damn thing!” 

The guards pin you down against the table and restrain your wrists and ankles in the shackles bolted down into the table. 

Wanda is beyond the conceivable thoughts, utterly repulsed by this dark crater she must know festers in the world. That this treatment is inflicted upon you - and perhaps countless others - she looks to Sam and Bucky. Both of them mirror each other’s stoic expressions and tightly clenched jaws.

“We have to do something,” she whispers just enough for Sam to make out. 

“As I was saying.” Rattling his throat of any vocal hindrance, he combs his dishevelled hair back. “It was vital to raise an exemplar to the species, to garner investment support. Thus, the animal before us contributed to that. But when the investors learnt that we didn’t have enough stable minded werewolves, it was cause of another concern. Given my expertise, Alexander then came to me… and I tried. I really did. But each trial failed, each match was torn to shreds.”

Your eyes meet Wanda’s, the tearful glaze that wavers beneath the fluorescent lights, your troubled brows only deepen into a scowl when a doctor procures a muzzle. It’s not familiar like the leather and metal barred one Vision often used for you, this one was crafted for a nefarious purpose. The guards tug your head back to keep you from engaging the doctor, their hands work swiftly in snapping the contraption around your mouth and the base of your neck.

That is when you’ve had enough of this charade. This is when you decided here and now that Vision will pay for all those years of fucking around with you, tormenting you, provoking you without giving you the chance to rectify the errors of his arrogant ways. 

The moment that muzzle went over your face is when the game field changed. Your muscles strain and flex, body violently convulsing in your struggle to break free, your claws growing longer and clawing divots into the metal beneath your palms. 

Alarms and panic ensues. It all moves in a tight framework of blurriness. Rage has blinded you to this point. 

Wanda’s screams echo over the fog of your hazed and crazed mind, layering over into a morphing choir, other voices are muffled. All you can recognise are the two forms of something similar to your own towering one, their ears pin back and their snouts curl up to bare their teeth.

In a matter of seconds you're tangled between the two wolves, clawing and maining at their flesh until blood paints the polished floors, a racket of gunfire disturbs your ears. The nape of one of the guards is in the clutches of your jaw, you twist harshly and snape the elongated bone of their spine. 

The second pushes you hard, bearing down on you with clawing fists and gnashing fangs that tear into the flesh and muscle of your shoulder and upper arms.

More gunfire blinks and sprays into your vision, white spots in the heat of your vision. Your hind legs arch up and kick the second guard off of you, their body flying back into a heap of equipment that combusts into a show of sparks upon impact. Workers flee in all different directions, more guards from the outside flock into the lab in a blaze of bullets. 

Some penetrate through your thick hide and others aren’t so fortunate. Your ears twitch in response to Wanda’s voice, she shrieks your name, your head whips around in the direction to see her behind cover, Sam at her side as he takes shots at the guards. 

“Look out!” 

Her warning comes a second too late. A bullet fires at your shoulder, clean and true; an entry and exit wound. Your eyes momentarily meet Vision’s, a handgun of pristine gold flickering in the distance he kept from you. But your moment to strike is thwarted by the familiar reddish pink now shrouds you in a thick cloud. 

The scent burns your senses and stings your eyes until the word wavers before you, your muscles fried and you’re choking on the smell of each chemical and pheromone in the gas. You roar amidst your stampede, chaos of tossing anything in your path aside. There are screams, pleas for mercy and shouts to shoot to kill; despite the conflicting order of Vision to keep you alive. 

By now, the blaring alarms set off the emergency lighting, the once white lights darkening into a shade of red. Wanda calls your name again and again. You can’t see her through the tinted colour of the gas, your tail sways wildly from side to side, skin growing far too hot for your liking, you yelp in discomfort. Your body slumps against something that clanks together as the world around you spins. You grunt and snort to blow the burning scent from your flaring nostrils to no avail. Another fired bullet and hiss, and then a forceful gust of the same gas sprays directly over your face. Your howl as the agonising sting it causes, irritating your skin and fur, your clawed hands swipe at your face. 

Your lungs feel like they are weighted down like iron anchors with each intake of air. You hear Vision laugh from above and your head snaps upwards, seeing him reign high above in his victory, from his place on the looming platform. 

“But I figured it out, dog. Like all things natural to a wolf, it needed to be exposed just the same.” 

His blue eyes beam wide in their amazement. Their admiration. You rear back as a shattering cry of a roar bellows from deep within your chest. Saliva coats over your gums and teeth and sweat has already begun to seep into your fur. 

Vision gives a gesture of a mock salute before he dashes away, Sam and Bucky far too late and miss any shot they could have landed, the overlord making his escape. 

“We gotta get outta here!”

“Where are we gonna go, Sam? There’s this fucking gas everywhere and—” Bucky cannot exhale another word, set off into a coughing fit. 

“We have to find Y/N!” Wanda shouts to the two men. 

She’s gaining higher ground. Her heels clatter against the metal framework of the platform. “I’I think I see them,” she calls out, head darting left to right, arching to see the dark shape before it sinks away into the reddish mist. 

She continues to search until she is no longer able to. A scream is torn from her lungs when the platform shakes and jolts her forward, hands grasping the railing before she’s thrown over. 

You stalk towards her with each step you take threatening to break the now unsteady frame you both stand upon. The once familiar glow of amber now feels strange to her, like she doesn’t recognise you - shouldn’t recognise you - and yet she says your name all the same. It’s the only thing that’s the middle ground now.

She backs away slowly and you continue forward until you arch forward swiftly, hands snatching hold of her, she struggles in your grasp. “Let me go! Let me go, Y/N!” 

You growl in warning to her, the sound rumbles like booming thunder, she can feel it even through the thick layer of her coat. 

Your nose buries into the crook of her neck, ignoring the way she squirms about in her resistance. 

“We’re coming, Wanda,” Sam’s voice coughs from below, his shoes hitting each step hard with Bucky not far behind, skipping one step to reach you both quicker. 

“Get off her,” warns Bucky with an arm raised, gun aimed at the bevel between your hellish, animalistic eyes. Eyes that he sees no humanity within. 

You raise your head high to snarl at the intruders. There is little to remember or recognise, all that you feel is the need to kill and something more, something that stirs within your core. Your hips move to grind against Wanda, angling them to soothe that growing ache between your thick, powerful legs. 

Wanda whimpers and that’s the last straw either man can take. They open fire and give Wanda the opportune moment to break free of you, she pushes away from you; but not before one of your hands snatch hold of her collar. She falls forward but Sam catches her before she can fall face first against the creaking metal, dragging her further away from you. 

Bucky continues to rain bullet after bullet. The constant bite of the attack eventually deters you and your form moves, crashing through the side window of the lab. Glass bursts in a flurry and all that can be heard by the trio is the baritone howl that fades into the night. 

Bucky pulls his phone from his pocket and lifts it to his ear when the call is received. “Steve, tell Tony we’ve got a loose collar problem.”

“Well, that could’ve gone much smoother. Now we have a sexed up hound on the loose.” Tony presses the glass to his temple with a huff in his low of defeat. Only Steve could have an idea how many drinks he’s had that night and he’s beginning to look a little rough for wear. 

Bucky and Sam were in no top shape either, the two of them nursing their own bruises and scrapes in the fight to escape. They’d done well in keeping Wanda out of harm’s way, but as for them, they paid the price for it. 

The tired sag beneath his hazel orbs. It makes her wonder just how bad this spanner in the machine is, how it affects Tony so. 

Without her coat, Wanda is left only with a sense of unease, the article of clothing lost to the clutches of you; a missing you. She continued to replay earlier events over and over, trying to pick out and decipher each little detail’s meaning. 

Vision obviously had a goal to win back Alexander’s favour. The abandoned project could have been yet another scheme to bring in profit, as Vision clearly made his intentions known. 

He was after profit in the breeding ring. 

“So regale me with the synopsis again: Pierce had Vision create a sex pollen engineered specifically for werewolves to then use on Y/N, however, it failed in the past until now, where you believe Vision has succeeded. That’s what I’m hearing, right?” Tony paces the kitchen now, pupils shrunk and hand quivering in the restraint of his outburst. 

“Basically down to a T, Boss,” confirms Sam with a tilt of his head. Tony runs a hand down his face as he sighs audibly. 

He takes a moment to reabsorb this information, Bucky grunting as he shifts his weight, having taken to laying on the couch. He took a werewolf arm to the stomach that flung him across the lab. In his books, he was deserving of a little rest. 

“So how do we find them?” Steve asks after another moment of periodic silence. That’s when Tony’s eyes slowly float over to Wanda, that flicker of realisation dawning in his eyes, he lifts a hand to point at her. 

“Where’s your coat?”

Wanda is chilled by the way Tony draws attention to this question, its nature a mystery that begins to make her head churn and her stomach flutter; and she isn’t sure in what way exactly. 

“U-uh…” Her eyes dance between Sam and Bucky, uncertain to give her answer, but when Sam nods his head to her, she breathes in deeply. “Y/N took it. They… snatched it off of me, th-they tried to grab me but I slipped out. That was right before they fled.”

“Oh, well then, that solves our little lost dog problem.” The mob boss breathes an air of sarcasm to fan the flames of his words. But it also pulls everyone’s eyes to him, confusion visible in each of their own gazes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wanda asks and Tony chuckles dryly in response, eyes zeroing in on Wanda’s. 

“It means that we can stay put. They’ll find you.”

Wanda isn’t sure what to make of it. Wandering down the hall to her separate apartment, Tony’s words play over the backdrop of your acts of slaughter, your actions of violence and aggression and primal desire. When you snatched a hold of her coat in the lab, she could sense it, that need to have her beneath you, to ravish her wholly without consequence or regard for anything or anyone’s order.

Having her within your grasp was an exotic experience. She felt the power you possess in its entirety without needing to experience every single level of it. She could just tell it was there. 

 ‘They’ll find you.’ Tony’s words repeat themselves for the millionth time.

All she can think about is you. Where you are, if you’re alright, and how you’re coping with that pollen running in your veins. Tears coat her eyes in a blurred, wavering curtain. What if you got yourself killed?

No. She cannot think like that. She won’t think like that. But can she help it?

Still trapped in her mind with the troublesome thoughts and endless unanswered questions.

It begs one of the questions for her, how Tony can be so sure that you will find her, and how her coat had any relevance to his statement. His warning. 

Soon enough, one cruel thought only breeds another. Vision’s disturbing fascination with his drug trade, with the sex pollen. It just makes sense - all of it - in the city of dark and neon. A criminal’s haven. 

Something in the jumble of her scattered thoughts told her you didn’t consider Madripoor as a haven. What she saw in your eyes back in the lab; a raw and bone chilling expression of fear, she has only left to suspect that you see Madripoor as a prison. 

Her chin wobbles slightly at the thought of you going through years of that hell and torture, to be trapped without anyone there to help you. To save you. 

The city isn’t even an impressive sight to her. It’s poisonous, built on ruin and lies, betrayal and dirty money. What’s worse is that she’s lost you, some part of you, because of this fucking city. This cesspool of despair, destruction and corruption. Werewolves of a varying amount now dwell in those other towering buildings - hell, perhaps even in the same hotel as her - and below in the streets of Hightown. In the slums of Lowtown. And you’re somewhere amongst it all.

All because of those who used and abused you. For profit. 

All Wanda can think at that moment is to just see you. To be near you. All she wants is for this to be over and to go home with you. 

Everything she could ever want, she sees in you. She just wants you.

But Madripoor has taken you from her. Swallowed you up in the festering dark and neon glow. A wolf lost in the haze, with nothing but that desire to want. And maybe, if Tony is at all correct in his fearfully made assumption, you’re a lost wolf with a desirable appetite for her.

It almost feels like some dark, wet fantasy of hers. To believe that the only reason you have her coat now is to track her down. Because you want her. Her skin is plagued by a sudden chill that makes her spine tingle. 

She takes a moment to bring stillness to her negative and lust spiralling thoughts to dry the unspilled tears as she finally arrives at the door of the apartment. Withdrawing her key, she unlocks the door and enters. 

The room is dark, left to remain cold in the vacancy. Or so Wanda thought. Closing the door behind her and pressing her back to it, it takes her a moment to regain her strength and composure before she pushes herself off it; only for her back to all but smack hard against the door again. Her mouth fell agape and eyes widening.

Even in the unlit space of the common area, the neon haze of the opposing buildings floods in through the wide panel windows. But none of them compare to the sharp amber of your eyes hiding amidst the darkness. The lethal regalness of the true born predator that uses this element to their advantage. The common area is a mess, furniture torn to shreds, miscellaneous decorations littering the floor and the walls, canvases to long and jagged claw marks; a lot of them. You’ve practically left no space left safe in the chaos of your outburst. 

And your large form is at the centre of it all.

“Y/N,” she breathes out, breaking the silence between you both. Your eyes flitter up to meet hers from your previous interest point, the accumulated bundle at your large, pawed feet. Blankets, sheets, pillows and anything else in your wolfish mind you deem comfortable to lay on the floor.

Wanda’s eyes move over you. Were you… building a nest?

Your amber eyes burn into her soul, the pit of radiant hellfire focuses on her with primitive hunger. The sight of her against that door makes your core become plagued by shockwaves of agony that disperse downwards, turning pain into an empty void of pleasure that moves downwards, to the aroused mound at the juncture between your powerful, muscular thighs. You could do some very damaging things to her up against that door. 

And there she sees it, her coat clenched tightly in the grasp of your right hand. So Tony had been correct in the end. You used her coat to track her down from wherever you’d escaped to, only to then follow her scent here. 

The heavy pound of your weight on your pawed feet moves closer to her, the article of fox fur discarded to the pile - or what she presumes to be a nest - and she’s soon cornered. 

Muscles ripple beneath fur, the colour of it always a delicate sight Wanda found herself often cherishing. Soft to the touch, well groomed beyond the scars that litter your body, hideous marks that remind you of what you are. But to the hidden scope of Wanda’s own thoughts, you were the closest thing to sculpted perfection; the rough edges providing a ruggedness that many often depicted as ruthless and merciless. 

But she knows that you use those sharp edges to protect her. To protect yourself. 

“Remember me, Y/N. Y-you know who I am, l-look at me–”

Your muzzle wrinkles and you snarl, pink gums lined with long, sharp teeth bare at her in a display of what she perceives as hostility. She’s only begun to slide along the wall and away from the door before one of your larger arms thrusts forward. She yelps in surprise and flinches back, your other arm follows suit of the first, trapping Wanda between you and the wall behind. 

Your maw extends down as a raspy snarl echoes in the back of your throat, the foundations of a monster with not an ounce of humanity left in the soul, her eyes are now coated with a hot layer of tears. “You know me, Y/N, I know you do! Look at me, remember me.”

She can’t even bear the thought to fathom the fates of the other victims. With Vision’s lack of details, it ended up being both a blessing and a curse. Now all she thinks about now is becoming another one of those victims. And how the aftermath would only break you. 

“I remember, Mate.”

Wanda would celebrate in her relief, had it not been for that single word. Mate. Goosebumps form over exposed skin, her breath hitches in her throat and she cannot refrain from the needy moan surpassing her lips when you push your overly large body to hers, bending down low to grind the dangerously aroused location against her. 

“I fucking need you. I need you so badly.”

“I–I…” The words escape her, leaving her to the dizzying of her own growing desire. To be beneath you, to have you ravish her beyond reprieve. 

“One way or another, I’ll have you in that nest, Mate.” 

The lilt of your baritone growl reverberates in the chamber of your ribcage, husky and primal laced. Dominating. Wanda’s mind swims with the endless possibilities, that black sea of fantasies rising up in crashing tidal waves. Her head arches back into the door and leaves her neck bared for you, the long, pink tendril of your tongue laps at the dew of her skin, deliciously sweet and intoxicating, it brings out a pleasurable rumble from you. One that she feels vibrates her alit core. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been repressed, Lamb? All that torture and for what? Only to suffer without release. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Oh, there’s something in the way you blatantly threaten her with a fucking good time. A chill runs up the column of her spine and she mewls, you roughly begin to grind your body into her in your dire need. Suffice to say, you aren’t kidding her when you warned her that you’d have her one way or another. 

“I want to help you now,” she whispers softly. Her hands roll through the texture of your fur, nails scratching at you like a kitten, your shoulders jolt with a rumbling chuckle. You purr lowly, breath hot against her neck, “You know how.”

The razor points of your canines rake over the sensitive spot, right where her mark belongs, and exposed to the point that you could do it; and she would have no chance of fighting it. 

She pants now, whining when the bulge of your mound rubs over her aching pussy, already her lips are sweetened by her juices. 

“I want this. I want you… Mate.”

Her scent is alluring to the point that you think it’s a drug of its own, a dose of it enough to get your blood pumping and your heart pounding, her words only serve to break the last restraints you barely have a hold of. 

The action is swift and drags a gasp from Wanda’s lungs, your right arm scoops her up, resting her ass along your forearm as you hoist her up, in tandem your left hand claws down, slicing her short dress down the middle; leaving her milky skin exposed in her lingerie. 

Your left hand moves her thigh over the curve of your shoulder and with this guidance, she does the same for her other leg, her drooling pussy just below eye level now. Her scent wafts into your senses and you growl, tongue running over the daggered incisors lining your maw. 

“You smell good, Lamb.”

The drawl of your wolfish tone makes Wanda’s eyes roll back, her hips bucking at the pleasuring sensation of your hot, wet tongue licking a long strip upwards, from the edge of her folds to her pulsing clit. All her hands can do is clutch hold of the long, silky locks of fur that are reminiscent of your hair. 

“Sh–shit!” she squeaks with jostled breath, “D-do that again?”

You obey her request with a haughty snort, snout wrinkled into a prideful smirk. The fabric of sheer and opaque of her panties being a perfect blend to pleasure and torture. She’ll want more soon enough, you’re sure of it. Your tongue laps upwards again and she groans quietly with a struggling pant. Her mouth hangs open, and shit, if that isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen then you can happily take a silver bullet to the brain. 

Her body quivers with each stroke of your tongue, wide enough to cover her entire cunt each time, and a little rough to offer that desirable friction she craves, and of course warm to sooth the chill that envelops the rest of her skin. “A–ah! Hah!”

“Feels good, doesn't it, Mate?”

Wanda is pleasure-struck, unable to form a single tangible response by word. All she can do is nod her head frantically, streaks of her brownish hair fall over her visage contorted with delight, a moan bouncing in her throat. “M–mmhm…”

A dark chuckle escapes you and that smirk turns into a wolfish grin. “That’s not all this tongue can do.”

Her brows lift in curiosity and her plump lips fall apart with another moan, her anticipation is short lived by you putting her out of her misery or before she can question you. Your teeth slip between the band of her panties and her skin, revelling in the way her body shivers against you, with a quick snap the fabric is torn apart and gives the perfect view of her dripping cunt. 

Your maw is buried between her legs in an instant, tongue greedy devouring the slickness on her folds, the taste as sweet as honey on your tastebuds, your ears pin back when her fingers ring further towards the roots of your fur. 

“F-fuck, fucking hell, oh shit!” she gasps loudly, “Y/N!”

A hot fan of breath hits her sensitive bud as you part your powerful jaws wide open, you press the thinner tip of your tongue to her entrance, teasing her slickened folds until she’s mewling for you, fingers clenching your fur harder. 

“Please… please,” she begs, doing her best to angle her weeping core for your leisure whilst keeping her thighs balanced on the broadness of your shoulders. 

“Show me what else it can do.”

With a pleased huff with her begging, you angle your tongue and push forward. With each impending inch that sinks further between her southern lips, she whines softly - dare you say it - she’s howling tenderly in her reverie of euphoria. 

With each surpassing inch she realises that your tongue alone is as thick as a well endowed man. And it only seems to keep going and her hips wriggle, lips trembling until her teeth sink into her bottom lip to keep her screams at bay lest the entirety of Madripoor hears what its finest werewolf does to defile her. 

You grunt when you’ve filled her with all that you can with the pink and hot, muscular organ. Breaths heavy and heated, each wave hits Wanda’s clit and brings a delightful spring to coil in her abdomen and her pussy to clench around you. 

Her back arches slightly in sync with the first thrust, the wet muscle powerful enough to make her gently bounce upwards, a breathless wisp of air is pressed from her lungs forcefully. 

“Oooh, oh yes, j-just like that.”

You repeat the motion again and her legs squeeze closer around your large head. Her nails dig into the nape of your neck. Your arm that doesn’t support the weight of her lower body comes up and your clawed hand supports the back of her own neck, her head lazily drops back, eyes rolling into the back of her skull as her lips close shut. 

Her hips roll into the next thrust, meeting your wet muscle halfway, and the way she moans makes you groan. 

So your pace quickens and becomes rougher, her body bounces with each forceful stroke, continuing to roll her hips in tandem, following the set rhythm with a chorus of wistful moans and teetering howls of her own. 

You’re enraptured by the sight of her. The heiress at your beck and call now, drawing closer to her starlit climax. She feels it, deep inside, like rubber bands coming together and twisting in wait for the inevitable snap. 

She chants your name, a one word mantra that drives you to the precipice of lustful insanity.

Her tight walls only tighten with each push and pull of your long tongue, dragging against the current that seeks to pull you in forever with no chance to grant escape. More of her aroused juices get you drunk in your haze and your greed becomes damn near insatiable as you drink every drop you’re granted. The few stray drops of her sweetness only roll down the flexing front of your torso. 

“I-I’m close.” She breathes deeply through her nose, eyes squeezed shut as her fingers claw the absolute shit out of your silky fur. All these things mixed together in a delicious combination makes you growl, and that sound shoots through your cunt-fucking tongue, and brings her walls to clamp around it hard. Her body is wrecked by the crash of her orgasm, coating your tongue with a mouth watering amount of her release, you groan at the taste. 

Your tongue works at slowing down, stoking the fire to cool down, her breasts push and strain against the thin fabric of her lingerie, nipples stiff beneath the sheer’s opacity. With a husky grunt you pull the slick drenched muscle with a moistened pop, Wanda’s body reacts with a flinching motion.

Fuck, how you enjoy having her like this. Before now, you’ve held back, refused to carry on any further out of fear that it would be too much for her. Now seeing her, drunk on your mere tongue and her quietly pleading more of you, you think she can handle it. 

When Wanda manages to recover enough of herself that her eyes open to look at you. She isn’t sure if she should be aroused or terrified by the expression on your canid visage. Your lips lift over the line of your gums, stretching to a smirk. 

You drop the courtesy support you offered her, the only thing keeping her suspended at your eye level is the large form of your single hand, circling around the slender build of her waist. Her body is still recovering from her orgasm, lazily but trying, she supports in holding herself from falling back.

In this moment, she’s at the mercy of an eight and a half foot animal doped up on sex pollen. She’s at the mercy of you. 

“Now, let me show you how a werewolf really fucks.”

COMING SOON...

— MALE VARIANT — FEMALE VARIANT — ACT IV

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST

@alexawynters @alyciaddict

[mbappeslover]

écoute chérie // kylian mbappé | part one.

kylian mbappé x f! reader.

saw this edit on tiktok, they edited mbappé to écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer and… i fell in love. the song is sooo mbappé.

y/n got the job as kylian’s personal assistant. his previous assistant fired for unknown reasons. y/n had heard about kylian mbappé and his terrible attitude. she wasn’t excited to work with him. but, turns out.. he’s actually not that bad.

read part 2 here.

read the finale here.

credits to the editor: strkvoid on tiktok, they did such an amazing job <3, my favorite mbappé edit.

“y/n y/l/n, you’ve been accepted!” the notification pinged and appeared at the top of your screen. you clicked on it so fast.

one week ago.

“y/n, have you seen this? kylian mbappé’s management is looking for a new personal assistant.” your friend tells you during a phone call.

“oh really?” you ask.

“yes… and, you qualify for it! like a 100 percent. wait, i’m gonna send you the link.”

you received the message and clicked on the link, it was indeed an exclusive offer/application to becoming the footballer’s new personal assistant.

“y/n, you should really go for it. the pay is amazing and i’m sure it’ll be an awesome experience.”

you skim through the countless pages and listing of requirements and benefits the job offered. plus, you were indeed qualified for the job.

“mmm… i don’t know. everyone talks about how much of an asshole kylian mbappé is. how he’s a jackass with a shitty attitude and an unbearable ego, bigger than the universe.” you explain, iffy about this whole thing.

“oh please, it’s not like you’re gonna be all lovey dovey with the guy. imagine how much money you’ll be making. you want to quit your current job right now anyway.” your friend says, trying her hardest to convince you.

you laugh. “okay, you’re right. i’ll call you back, i’m gonna read through all the paper work, submit my résumé and update you on it.”

you weren’t too serious about it, you doubted that you’d actually get the job.

everything just got real. definitely serious.

you got the job, you were on call with the footballer’s management, and you were now getting familiarized with his schedule.

“alright, ms. y/l/n, we’ve spoken through all the things you’ll be needing to do for kylian. i’ve sent you an email of a file that lists all the things you must do for him. now, all we need is for you to sign a few things. it’ll take you about ten minutes. it wasn’t much before but… some things went down. so, we had to make a few arrangements.” kylian’s manager stated.

you just nod taking everything in and trying to process it at once.

you heard the ping from your phone, signaling you got the email.

“okay, perfect. today, i’ll show you around psg and tomorrow you’ll be meeting kylian.”

a tour guide took you around the stadium, briefly explaining different areas and rooms in the building to you.

it was a long day. you were now in bed, aimlessly scrolling on instagram because you couldn’t sleep.

you’re nervous. why?

the athlete you’ll be attending to is possibly the biggest asshole in paris, france and you’re gonna have to deal with it.

you decide to go on his instagram.

“k. mbappé, 94.1m Followers, 389 Following, 1204 posts.”

you click on the first photo presented and begin scrolling down.

in almost all photos he’s smiling, with a caption full of emojis and empowering words.

he looks so… sweet?

is this the same guy with the so-called “bad attitude?”

you fell asleep.

after scrolling through all one thousand, two hundred and four posts by kylian mbappé.

your alarm rang, loudly.

you groaned, getting up to prepare yourself for the day.

after getting dressed, you received a call from kylian’s manager.

“good mornin-“ you tried greeting politely, before cut off.

“good morning dear, i need you here in ten minutes.”

“it’s only 9:00, i was told to be there at 9:30. did something happen?” you ask, exasperated.

“yeah, well, kylian decided to come earlier than we thought and right now, he wants an organic green juice from le juice. it has to be from juicerie.” the manager explains.

“le juice is like fifteen minutes from where i am right now, how will i be able to make it in ten?” you say, slightly panicking.

“well, find a way. mbappé cares about his health, a lot. all that stuff about nutrition and good food is the key to health. if you didn’t know, now you do. be here in ten, please darling!” the managers says in a cheery voice before hanging up.

first day on the job and they were already trying to make the impossible, possible.

you quickly go on the website for le juice and order and paid online for a medium organic green juice for pick-up.

you catch a taxi and head over to le juice. it was a five minute drive because it was still a bit early and the streets hadn’t start to fill yet, luckily.

you ask the taxi driver if they could wait for a quick second while you grab the order from inside.

the taxi driver fussed a bit yet ultimately decided to wait.

again, you were able to swipe up the juice since the shop just opened and customer didn’t pile up in the juice bar.

you hop back in the taxi and make your way to the stadium.

“tsk, your first day on the job and you’re seven minutes late. you better hurry up and get in there.” the manager scolds you once you arrive, outside the office room of psg.

“well, you should’ve told me i would have to be here earlier, you cunt.”

you didn’t actually say that, you thought it, but, you didn’t say it.

you quickly enter the room, with a little a stumble, almost tripping on your own feet. you quickly laugh at how much of a mess you are.

the room is packed, there’s people everywhere, most likely other staff members. you see at the corner of the room, there’s a small crowd of people surrounding something.

you squeeze in between people, trying to find a way through.

“excuse me. yea, sorry. my apologies. let me just squeeze in. i’m sorry.” you murmur out while gliding through the people in the packed room.

that’s when you were faced with him.

he’s exactly like those photos on the internet, a vibrant face, smiling while the people around him asks him questions like how’s his morning, would he like anything to drink, trivial things to simply make conversation. 

the infamous kylian mbappé.

you cleared your throat, put on your most brightest smile and polite voice.

“mr. mbappé, this is your organic green juice.” you say, putting your hand out to give the drink.

the area becomes quiet as the attention shifts on you.

you briefly look around confused.

and the smile that was once on kylian’s face had disappeared.

it was replaced with a hard stoned, cold glare.

“the fuck?” you thought.

he grabs the drink from your hand, not even thanking you before continuing the small talk with staff around him.

you try your hardest not to make a face at his rude behavior.

you brush it off.

literally.

brushing yourself off, taking a deep breath. putting on a polite voice again, you introduce yourself.

“hello, my name is y/n. i’m sure your manager already told you about me, i am your new personal assistant. if you ever need me, for anything, feel free to let me know. that’s my job, of course.” adding in a little humor to lighten the atmosphere, reaching your hand out.

once again, the area of the room goes silent. his smile falls once again and he slowly turns to look at you.

“d'accord. où est ma paille?” (okay. where is my straw?)

the crowd laughs.

you reach out your bag, handing him the straw before walking away.

“the rumors are true. he’s insufferable. literally an asshole. a two-faced scum? who even treats someone like that? no wonder his old assistant left. who’d want to deal with that.” you were now on the phone with your friend who encouraged you to apply.

“y/n, calm down. i know it was frustrating, but, it’s just your first day. at least quit after you get your first check.” your friend said, trying to comfort you.

yea, that’s right. y/n cried. cried very hard. today was extremely difficult.

you followed kylian everywhere, attempting to tend to his needs, but, all he did was be rude or downright ignore you.

“sir, how are you feeling? would you like for me to schedule a massage for you, in case you are feeling tense?” you ask.

“do i look tense to you?”

“mr. mbappé, your manager has informed me that you have a meeting on friday at 3pm.”

“who makes meetings on friday? i’m not going, you’re going. i have to relax.”

“mr. mbappé-“

“please stop bothering me. aren’t you my assistant? why must you keep calling out my name, you’re here to handle my business.”

“i don’t even know what i did to him? why should i get treated like this? it makes no sense.” you complain to your friend.

“i’m sure it’ll get better eventually… hopefully.”

“yea, hopefully.”

it’s been two weeks, working as kylian mbappé’s personal assistant.

to say y/n felt drained would be an understatement.

fourteen endless days of talking to a brick, solid wall.

a brick, solid wall with snarky remarks and a stinky attitude.

“mr. mbappé, your driver is outside waiting for you. he has the specific refreshments you asked for.” y/n says.

“alright, walk me to the car.” he says.

y/n’s concerned because he usually just nods and walks to the car himself.

as the two makes their way to the car, kylian starts conversation.

“your name, y/n, right?”

this is weird.

so weird.

“yes, sir. y/n y/l/n.”

“alright y/n, can you cook?”

“yes, i can cook, why?” y/n questions.

“génial. je veux que tu cuisines pour moi. (great. i want you to cook for me).” kylian says nonchalantly.

y/n stops dead in her tracks as kylian continues to walk.

“so, now i have to cook for this man? really?

well, it is your job…

oh, shut up. i know that!

just saying…” you internally battle with yourself.

he turns around, “well are you coming? i don’t have all day and i’m starving.”

you snap out of it, speed-walking to catch up.

“why are you standing by the door?”

you were in your bosses house. well, it’s not out of the ordinary because you are his personal assistant.

however, this is a drastic jump from a few days ago, when he didn’t even want you near him.

“are you okay, mr. mbappé? it looks pretty bad. i can go get you some soothing gel!”

he hurt himself pretty badly while trying to perform a trick during practice.

“no! i’m fine. don’t touch me, move!”

he spat out, stumbling to get up by himself.

you back up in utter shock.

other staff runs up to offer him support as he limps away.

mbappé’s pov:

his new personal assistant stood at the door, looking like a lost puppy that was left for dead on a rainy night.

kylian knew he was being hard on her, harsh to her. but, he couldn’t let his guard down.

he refused to let history repeat itself.

“why are you standing by the door?” he asks.

y/n seemed to be lost in her thoughts when he said that because she snapped up and made her way into the house after taking off her tory burch sandals.

kylian observed the woman as she subtly looked around the place before making her way to the kitchen.

he couldn’t lie. she was beautiful. she could be on the cover of a makeup magazine because of how natural and pretty her features were.

he wishes he could see her smile. most of the time she wears a frown on her face, sometimes a pout that kylian finds endearing. he wouldn’t show that though. or.. say it, ever.

her hair looked so soft, her voice was so nice on the ear. she had a nice figure, ones of a dancer, delicate, light on the feet.

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she said. he loved her voice, utterly. like a bee, wanting to drown in honey. he wanted to drown in her voice, listen to it forever.

“call me kylian.”

for some reason, he finds himself wanting to get to know her. get closer to her.

y/n’s pov:

‘oh God, he’s staring.’ you think to yourself.

y/n has made her way to the kitchen after taking in the penthouse. it was so nice and luxurious. she wondered how much or how long she’d have to work before ever living in a place like this.

she began looking in the cabinets, taking out a few pots and pans before realizing her boss didn’t even tell her what he wanted to eat.

“mr. mbappé, what exactly would you like for me to cook.” y/n says, an attempt to ease the tension.

‘he’s still staring. what the hell is wrong with him?’

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she repeats.

he looks you straight in the eye.

“call me kylian.”

you two continue making eye contact, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable, but, it’s rather… nice? it feels nice. it’s the first he’s ever actually acknowledged you.

you break the eye contact, clearing your throat.

“alright, if you don’t have anything set in mind, i’ll just cook and try to make do with whatever you have here.” you say.

it’s been about 50 minutes and you’re finally done cooking. you made steak & farfalle pasta with creamy tomato sauce.

kylian went into his bedroom since you began cooking and hadn’t come out. but, you did hear faint music coming from his room.

you begin to plate his food nicely, setting it on the kitchen island with a glass cup of ice water.

luckily, you clean along the way while cooking so there wasn’t a mess. you were tired, you wanted to get home and unwind.

you walk up to his bedroom door, about to knock, when the door swings open.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” you say slightly surprised.

he doesn’t say anything.

but, you could care less. your attention shifts to the song being played in the background.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” you say excitingly, completely forgetting that you’re at work. technically.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he replies with a small chuckle.

‘did he just chuckle? with me? did kylian mbappé, my rude ass boss. chuckle… with me?’

you smile, looking at the small smile that adorned his face as he chuckled.

you won. you’re winning mbappé over.

mbappé’s pov:

he was in his room, sipping on some expensive red wine from a brewery that gifted him some.

he felt at peace, moments like these to himself. drinking something, listening to music, letting loose.

not only that, but, most likely, he could smell the aroma from the food his personal assistant, y/n was making for him.

its been a little while, he was gonna go check on the food.

his favorite song comes on.

“partir, venir, mourir, courir.”

what a lovely song. he sings to himself, along the chant before making his way to the door.

opening it, there she was.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” she says, obviously a little spooked.

he doesn’t care about that, though. the more he looked at her, the more time he spent around her, the harder it got to suppress his obvious attraction to the woman.

he visibly sees something click in her head as she moves from his sight to get a better hearing of what was being played.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” she says.

‘God, she’s so cute.’ he thinks to himself.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he says, trying to hold back the ‘awe’ he wants to say so bad.

she smiles.

kylian felt like his heart could explode.

without absolutely zero exaggeration, she has got to have an award for having the most beautiful smile in the universe.

that smile right there—convinced kylian that he would make it his mission to always see that smile as long as y/n’s around him.

y/n turns around, leading him to his meal.

his stomach grumbles as he lay eyes on the food. it looks delicious. better than any five star michelin restaurant he’s been to. would probably taste better as well.

he’s confused, though. there’s only one plate of food.

he turns to y/n.

“where’s your food?”

“oh, i only made food for you, sir-“

“kylian, call me kylian.”

“yes, i’m sorry, kylian.”

“i’m gonna wait here for you to finish your food so i can wash your plate, then i’ll be out your hair, if that’s fine with you, kylian.”

he knows he can’t just let her leave like that.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he thinks he knows what he wants.

“that’s fine. come sit down.” he says, pulling out the chair next to him.

y/n hesitantly makes her way and gets seated. kylian slides over the glass of ice water to her.

“no, it’s for you.” y/n explains.

“i know, but, just drink it. i have some wine in my room.”

“okay, do you want me to go get it and pour some out for you?” y/n says, about to make her way there when kylian gently pulls her down.

“no, no, it’s fine. relax.” he says.

kylian begins eating, almost scarfing the food down.

y/n takes a sip of the water while looking at him eat.

“is it good?” y/n asks.

he stops for a second, chewing and swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“very. best meal i’ve had in a long time, y/n. thank you.” he says with a genuine smile on his face.

y/n smiles back before bringing the glass cup up to her lips and drinking some more water.

“so, y/n, how old are you?” he says, finishing up his food.

“i turned 24 a few months ago.” y/n says.

“really? i turned 24 a few months ago as well.”

“i know that, you’re the star of france.” y/n says with a small smile on her face.

he smiles at her again.

y/n couldn’t take it.

‘this is awfully weird. why is he being so… nice. it was concerning.’ she thinks to herself.

silence takes over the room and the only sound being the fork hitting against the glass plate as kylian takes a bite of the pasta.

“kylian, why are you so mean to me?”

“y/n, i know i haven’t been the nicest to you…”

they say at the same time. they both laugh.

“you go first.” kylian offers to y/n.

“alright, i was asking. why are you so mean to me? did i do.. something.”

kylian sighs deeply, “no y/n, you did nothing wrong, but, a lot happened before that’s making me like that towards you. just know i don’t mean it.” he explain.

“well, what happened?”

“i’ll tell you later.” kylian says finishing the food.

y/n took the plate and glass cup, made her way to the sink and began washing the dishes.

y/n wondered, what was on his mind. what was he thinking about.

too deep in thought to not see her boss, kylian. staking right next to her, leaning on the countertop.

she finishes cleaning the plate and cup.

she turned to her left, her soul jumping out her chest.

“kylian! why are you always sneaking up on people.” y/n said, laughing off the remaining shock with a hand over her heart.

“sorry, sorry, i just like looking at you.” he laughs.

y/n laughs too.

“oh really?”

“OH? REALLY?” she says backtracking because it registered to y/n what he said.

“yes. you’re beautiful.” he says, stepping a teeny closer to the beautiful woman in front of him.

y/n blushes.

“the food was really good as well. i really wish you would’ve ate with me.” he says.

“i’m just your assistant. i don’t want to break any of your boundaries. i respect you.” y/n says.

“i respect you.” kylian replays it in his head.

he already had a slight crush on y/n, but, this was different.

he has a crush on y/n.

“wow, you’re making me feel like shit for treating you the way i did. i respect you, too. say, come over again tomorrow. if you make me something to eat again, i’ll tell you what happened.” he says with a smile on his face.

y/n remains silent. she was thinking.

‘is kylian mbappé flirting with me?’

there’s no way.

yes there is! look at the way he’s looking at you. he wants you!’ you weigh out to yourself.

kylian think it’s adorable. the way y/n constantly looks like a lost puppy.

he bends down a bit, leveling himself to y/n’s height to get her attention.

“everything alright in there?” kylian says.

y/n seems to still be in deep thought when kylian giggles.

he takes his index finger, placing it underneath y/n’s chin, lifting it up.

he looks her in the eye.

he wants to kiss her, her lips look so soft. he’s 100% sure if their lips were to simply graze across one another, he’d still love it. be addicted to it.

y/n looks back into his eyes, feeling her heart beat and her stomach start to flutter.

“deal or no deal?” kylian says as he tilts his head to the side.

y/n eyes drops to kylian’s lips. they were the perfect size and naturally protruded out.

she imagined how it’d feel. probably like a pillow, or, maybe a marshmallow.

y/n eyes make its way back to kylian’s.

she made up her mind.

“deal.” she says before gently removing his finger from her chin. she gathered her bags and made her way to the door, kylian following right behind.

she slipped on her sandals as kylian unlocked & opened the door.

y/n walks out, before turning to kylian who stood by the door.

“goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

they say together.

the two laugh.

“till next time then, goodnight mr. mbappé.” y/n says.

“it’s kylian and i’ll call you tomorrow. make sure you answer. goodnight, y/n.” he says, smiling.

a/n (author’s note):

i am confident in this at all.. i feel like it could be way better but i wanted to hurry and publish something to whoever’s waiting. i’ve been so busy and tired with school :,(. it was supposed to only have one part but i didn’t wanna rush the plot too much.

i tried something new with the whole “pov” thing. and, i hope it’s not too confusing because i switch from 2nd point of view to 3rd a lot.

i guarantee part 2 will be more exciting than this. thanks for reading!

[daughterofcain-67]

𝒞𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: 𝓅𝓉 1

(Dean Winchester x Artist/Bartender!Female Reader)

(𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 2) (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 3)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re an artist that fell in love with a mysterious boy right before college. Then he left without any way to contact him. Decades later you’re an artist/bartender and you’re surprised to see who comes walking through the door.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none that I can think of.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I have no idea who actually did the cover art for The Prince of Thorns, King of Thorns and Emperor of Thorns by Mark Lawrence, the comic illustrations of the Maximum Ride series by James Patterson, or Cinder by Marissa Meyer. But I loved the artwork for the cover art and illustrations, so they deserve all the credit for their creativity. ((The artwork and references to the books is just to use to build Y/N’s portfolio, I do not own any of the artworks.))

It wasn’t easy being an artist. And it didn’t help that you seemed to be a starving artist at that. Everything seemed to have been done already. You supposed that your creative mind wasn’t as unique as you originally thought it would be.

You had countless sketchbooks in your home, just on one of your many bookshelves, purely dedicated to the sketchbooks you’ve had over the years. You’ve been sketching and drawing for as long as you can remember. You picked up on using water color and oil pastels sometime in high school when you were being experimental with your styles. But over the years you found that your luck expanding on your career was sort of a fifty fifty shot.

When someone hadn’t commissioned you to paint a wall of theirs, or if you weren’t working on a cover for some author - which was also another rare opportunity - You spent your time working at a bar in Wisconsin. It was some way to make some money after all, plus you did get to meet some pretty interesting people.

As for tonight, it was just another Thursday night for you and you were on your break. With that being said, you had your sketchbook out and you were sketching yet again.

Lately, in your personal sketchbook, you would draw the familiar face of a man you used to know. One that probably didn’t even remember your name, but you’d always remember his. You’d always remember his beautiful eyes that reminded you of the green forest, or the way his smile would light up any room he’d step into. You could remember the smell of his leather jacket, or the way that unusual pendant looked a little too good around his neck. You could still remember the sound of his laugh, or the flirtatious little tone and his mischievous smirk. He was a man you knew you could never forget, even after all these years.

“Drawing that mystery man of yours again, Y/N?” A work friend of yours named Danielle asked.

You glanced up at her while she adjusted her glasses and sat in front of you, “He’s no mystery.. just a memory.”

“You know, if you really can’t forget about him then maybe you should look for him.” She suggested and you shook your head.

“That’s not possible. Even when we first met during the summer before my freshman year of college, he was always traveling around with his father. It was a part of his career. And if anything, the guy’s still going it. They always traveled around the country.” You explained and Danielle pouted a little.

“You mean you can’t even track down what business it was? Not even by phone number or anything? Some company they ran.” She said and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Did he even tell you what kind of business he was a part of?” You shook your head.

“No… he was really secretive and he always told me he didn’t want to freak me out. A part of me wonders if he didn’t trust me. Then after like two weeks together he ghosted me.” You admitted.

“And you’re still obsessing over him? Come on, you’ve really got to let it go. If he was that much of a douche to ghost you and if he didn’t even leave you a way to contact him, then you have got to move on.” Danielle told you and you knew deep down she was right.

You looked down at the picture again of your ‘mystery man’ as Danielle liked to call him. Just as you were about to put the pencil to your paper once more, Danielle’s hand got in the way and she dragged the book across the table and rotated it so she could take a look at your work.

“Okay, this guy can’t actually be real. No one is that attractive.” She said with a chuckle before she looked up at you once more.

“So what did you say his name was again?” She asked as she handed you the sketchbook again.

“Dean… Dean Winchester.”

“Dean… Not a bad name I guess. Better than like Brad or something.” She laughed.

“Any chance that he’s a reader? Maybe he’s seen your cover art on some books.” You shook your head.

“No, he’s not much of a reader. His brother is a reader though so.. maybe? Although who knows if Sam would read any of the books I’ve done the artwork for.” You shrugged, unsure if Sam read any fantasy novels or science fiction.

“His brother’s name is Sam? That’s a little anticlimactic isn’t it? Is it short for something?”

“I don’t think it’s anticlimactic. Simplistic. And no, I don’t think it’s short for anything, but I never really asked Dean about it. Never met Sam.”

“Hey! Y/N! Danielle! Y’all can’t leave me by myself, I just got here!” A second voice said and that was your other friend, Callie. She had a bit of a southern twang in her voice that was definitely different compared to your other coworkers.

You and Danielle both laughed and you got up from your seat. You closed your sketchbook and went back to the back of the bar to put your sketchbook in your backpack. Then you began to resume your shift. The sooner the night was over with, the sooner you could go home and maybe check your emails and see if anyone has reached out to you for any projects.

The next several hours went by and it was closing time at the bar. You walked out of the bar with the two coworkers.

“Have you two heard the news yet about the Nelson’s wife?” Callie asked and you glanced over at her, brow arched upward.

“No. I didn’t even know something happened.” You said.

“Well apparently when Mr. Nelson came home last night, his door was opened up and there were some kind of freaky claw marks on the door. When the boss went inside he saw that his wife’s guts were literally outside of her body. But you wanna know the weird thing of it all?”

“There’s a weird part? Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better!” You asked.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Callie replied, not finding your sarcasm amusing at the moment.

“The weirdest part was that her heart was missing. No weapon was found, no evidence of some kind of fur if it really was an animal attack. The police have searched the place top to bottom to find any clues or evidence of an animal attack. But honestly I’m surprised the bar was even opened tonight.” Callie continued.

“That explains why I hadn’t seen the boss tonight. He must be going through a lot. I couldn’t imagine losing my boyfriend in such a horrific way… and to actually see his wife like that? I can’t imagine.” Danielle said and you frowned a little.

As difficult as it was to learn about the loss of your boss’ wife, you didn’t think that your boss would be missing that much. The Mrs. didn’t exactly have a great reputation after all. She was a bit of the town harlot to put it lightly. It was common knowledge that she had been cheating on her husband for the past three years with several men.

“How is Mr. Nelson taking it?” You asked.

“Well as far as I know he’s been at the sheriff’s office all day for an interrogation. You know how it is, always suspecting the spouse first. I don’t know if he’s actually had the time to really mourn.” Callie replied.

“Well… surely it’s just some freakish accident. It couldn’t possibly happen again. The same animal wouldn’t strike the same town twice, right?” You said.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Callie said.

“Well just incase that animal is still around… make sure you get home safe! Why don’t we create a group text now just to make sure we all get home okay.” Danielle suggested.

“Honestly… that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” You said and pulled out your phone.

Once the three of you were on the group chat, you split off into your different vehicles to go home. You made it to your apartment and shut the door behind you. You tossed your bag on the couch before you plopped on the furniture, then you reached for the remote and turned on the television.

There wasn’t anything good on TV so you changed the channel to Boomerang and watched some cartoons. They were playing the old episodes of Scooby-Doo and you smiled to yourself. You hadn’t watched this show in years and you felt nostalgic watching it. Then your mind wandered off to the old days. You started to think about the summer with Dean.

You shook your head, deciding that Danielle was right and you really should forget about Dean. It’s been years and you never saw Dean again after the best two weeks of your life. It wasn’t worth thinking about. So you grabbed your computer and checked some emails to see if anyone’s reached out.

Evidently there was an email for some author named Marissa Meyer. She was emailing you to compliment your illustrations for James Patterson’s Maximum Ride comics and for the cover art of some other books. Honestly you were surprised. She was writing to see if you’d be willing to do some cover art for one of her books. She emailed you the plot of whatever story this would be and she said the title she planned was Cinder. It seemed to be an interesting plot so you started typing out the response, letting the author know you’d be willing to make the cover art and that you just needed a deadline for it.

Shortly after you sent the email, you started looking at some inspiration photos on Google and Pinterest and that was when your phone started ringing. When you glanced down, you saw that it was a group call with Danielle and Callie. You smiled and you answered the phone before you lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Oh good, you answered!” Danielle exclaimed on the other line and you chuckled.

“Don’t worry, no animals have broken in to attack me yet.” You clarified and Callie laughed.

“See, I told you there was nothing for you to worry about. She’s probably getting ready to draw something and you broke her concentration.” Callie said and you hummed a little.

“Haven’t started just yet. Though about water coloring though.” You admitted since it had been a while since you’d used that medium.

“Well next time send a text! That was the whole reason why we made the group chat, remember?” Danielle continued and you grinned.

“Sorry for worrying you. I’m alright, and I’m glad both of you are alright too.” You insisted.

“Are both of you working tomorrow night?” You asked.

“I know I am.” Danielle replied with a little bit of an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not. I’ve got the rest of the week off.” Callie spoke up.

“The whole week? So we’ll see you when, Monday?” You asked.

“Yep. Needed a little me time and what perfect time would that be than having the weekend all to yourself?” She said.

“What about Dylan?” Danielle asked, referring to Callie’s boyfriend.

“He said he was… busy with something.” Callie said.

“You know, Danielle, you and Chris may like this one restaurant on South drive.” Callie said, talking about Danielle’s boyfriend and you felt like the odd one out, not having gone on a date in about three years.

“I’ll let the two of you talk about your boyfriends and your little date ideas.” You said and you were about to hang up before the both of them started talking to you to not hang up.

“Woah woah woah! Why don’t we get you hooked up with someone?” Callie asked.

“Yeah, that would be fun! I mean it’s been a while so what’s the harm in it? We can take you to the bar after work this Saturday night.”

You arched a brow before you looked at your bag that still had the sketchbook with the pictures of Dean in it. You supposed maybe going out this weekend maybe help you get over the memory. Dean was more of a phantom of that summer anyway.

“I suppose that could work. I get off at six. I can get home and get ready by seven or something.” You replied.

“Oh good! Maybe on break tomorrow you and I can go looking for some cute dresses for you to wear!” You cringed at Danielle’s words and you used your free hand to rub the back of your neck.

“Great.” You muttered with nervous laughter.

“Hang on, guys. I have to go. Dylan is calling me.” Callie groaned with some sort of annoyance in her tone and you wondered if everything was alright. However before you asked, she hung up.

“Wonder if she’s alright.” You said since Danielle was on the other line.

“Honestly I think she and Dylan have been in a bit of a rough patch recently. I wouldn’t be surprised if they break up by the end of the month.” She sighed.

“Rough patch? What’s been going on?”

“Well from what Callie’s ranted about, Dylan is developing some trust issues ever since she told him she didn’t want to live together.”

“What? They’ve only been dating for like a month and he wanted to move in?”

“Something like that…”

“Well you’re being awfully gracious for giving them the end of the month to end things. I’ll give them a week and a half if that.” You chuckled.

“You never know. Anyway, it’s getting late. See you tomorrow?” Danielle said.

“I’ll be there.”

Dean rubbed the back of his head as he walked down the stairs. Then he tied the strap of his robe around his waist as he made his way into the library just to see Sam reading a book. Not much of a surprise there. But this time it didn’t seem like it was a research book in his hands.

“Whatcha got there?” Dean asked, hearing his brother hum in response.

“It’s a fantasy series by Mark Lawrence. I’m reading the second one called King of Thorns.” Sam spoke.

“I didn’t exactly take you to be a fantasy ready. Always thought of you as more of a realist.” Dean admitted as he sat down across from his brother before he moved the laptop across the table. Then Dean opened it up so he could see if there was any new cases that sounded like his and Sam’s thing.

“Charlie recommended the book to me. Said that it was pretty good. Like it’s not Lord of the Rings good or Harry Potter good, but she thought it was worth the read nonetheless.” Sam said.

Dean hummed as he looked over at the book again and he caught a glimpse of the front cover, “Cover art’s pretty good.”

“Yeah… Charlie said the artist has done quite a little bit. She’d done the cover art of this trilogy and the illustrations for some sort of comic series based off some YA science fiction books. I think her name is.. oh hang on I think her name might be in the book.” Sam said as he flipped to the back.

“Oh here it is. Cover artist, Y/N L/N.”

Dean’s gaze shot from the book in Sam’s hand to Sam right after he read the name. That was a name he hadn’t heard in years. Felt like centuries really.

“Let me see that. I want to get a better look at the cover.” Dean said and Sam put his bookmark between the pages and handed the book to him.

As Dean looked at the cover, he admired the work. He suddenly began to recall that summer when he was a couple decades younger. Still fresh and when John was still around. He remembered meeting this beautiful girl in Wisconsin. You, in fact.

That was the best two weeks of his entire life. He remembered how great of an artist you were, how much he loved looking through the sketchbooks you showed him. He remembered you telling him way back when that you wanted to be an artist. Seems like you’ve come quite a ways if you’ve done some illustrations and some book covers.

“Has this artist done anything else?” Dean asked curiously.

“Since when were you interested in art?” Sam asked with a smirk as he leaned in, his arms folded in front of him on the table. Then the look of realization went across his face.

“Wait… Y/N. Isn’t that the girl from-“

“Wisconsin? Yeah.” Dean said and he chuckled.

“Honestly the best summer I’ve ever had.” Dean admitted.

“Why didn’t you ever go back to visit her? Is she a hunter? Maybe she could help us on some hunt sometime.” Sam said, trying to be encouraging but Dean shook his head a little.

“No, she wasn’t a hunter. In fact she was far from it. When I met her, she hadn’t even started college yet. Just graduated high school. She had no idea of the darkness in the world that we deal with and well… I wanted to spare her from it.” He said.

“Sounds like you had it bad. Dad wondered why it took you two weeks to end the case. He said it was awful long for you.” Sam smirked.

“Honestly, yeah. I did. if I wasn’t a hunter, I might have stayed. Maybe even go to summer school or work as a mechanic there to make a living just to stick around while she was on her campus. She was a sweet girl but I knew if I stayed, monsters would come and I didn’t want her exposed to that kind of shit just because I stayed around. I finished the case in a week but I stayed the extra week before I had to decide to move on.” Dean continued.

“Do you ever regret it?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, I don’t think she would even remember me.” Dean replied and handed the book to Sam yet again. Sam took it and set it down on the table beside him.

“I think she’d remember… anyway, as far as I know she’s just illustrated for that series and the covers for this series.” Sam said but he pulled out his phone to search your name.

“Here’s something… She’s painted some walls in the local elementary school building as well as a pediatrician’s office. But honestly I think that’s the only commissions she’s had. Other than that, based off her social media she’s just working in a bar.”

“A bartender? A girl of her talent should be working for some comic company. Maybe even character designing for some animation studio.” Dean said with a bit of surprise.

“Well, sometimes people aren’t always that lucky in life. But I agree with you, she is good.” Sam sighed as he closed out his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Then he turned his attention back to Dean who was looking back at the computer screen in front of him.

“Find anything worth while?” He asked his older brother.

“Well speaking of Wisconsin…. Turns out some bar owner’s wife was found dead. Police are calling it an animal attack but there wasn’t any evidence of an animal left behind. Then again there wasn’t exactly any evidence of humans either because apparently, intestines were outside the poor woman’s body and her heart was missing.” He said.

“So… werewolf maybe?” Sam suggested.

“That’s my first thought. We might as well head that way and check it out for ourselves.” Dean said and Sam nodded before Dean decided to get up so he could take a shower and get dressed before going on the hunt.

When Dean made it into his room, he decided that’s before he’d get dressed he’d look for something.

Honestly he wasn’t even sure if he still had this amongst his memorabilia. He didn’t exactly carry ugh outside of his pictures of his parents, Bobby and Sam and himself when they were younger. But when Dean opened up the auto man at the end of his bed and started looking through old pictures and papers, he moved his father’s journal to the side and then he found a black folder.

Dean let out a breath of relief as he pulled the black folder out and he sat down on the bed. The field was made of paper and it was a bit worn with the years of being moved around since they went from motel to motel a lot. Then Dean opened up the folder and he was pleasantly surprised to find that what he was looking for was still inside.

Inside of the folder there was a sheet of sketch paper with a drawing of both you and him on it. It was an old picture, Dean’s hair was longer and he didn’t quite have bags under his yees from the years of losing sleep because of a hunt. Then there was you, and you were even more gorgeous in person. Your talented hand didn’t give you justice on paper.

In the picture, you were wrapped up in his arms while the two of you sat down on a blanket in the grass. Both of you had a peaceful expression as you looked out at the lake. Dean could still remember the way you felt in his arms, remembering the moment you had drawn in the picture. It was the second to the last night that he spent in Wisconsin.

Dean smiled at the memory, knowing that even after so many years you still had a piece of his heart. But then reality started to get to him and he wondered if you had been married after college graduation. Did you have a family of your own? Dean calculated and by this time you had to be in your mid thirties like he was, right? Most people were arrived by then if they were lucky, and any man would be lucky to have someone so special like you.

Honestly Dean couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you still thought about him once in a while. Maybe late at night when you were watching a movie drinking some wine and drawing one of those covers Sam showed him, he wondered if you thought about him.

Dean put the picture back into the folder and placed it on the night table beside his bed before he grabbed his bag and some clothes to pack up. Then he got his other pair of jeans and a shirt to wear before he headed off to the shower.

Two days had gone by and that was the night you were supposed to go out with Danielle and Callie to some sort of club or whatever. Honestly you weren’t sure if dancing was your thing. You weren’t in your twenties anymore after all but when you were texting Danielle about it all she told you was that it was something to put you out there, give you something fun to look forward to this weekend.

At the moment you weren’t really focused on your little outing that night. You were a little more concerned about the fact that you hadn’t heard from Callie in the last couple of days.

It wasn’t like Callie. She typically texted you and Danielle at least once daily whether she texted some sort of joke or sent a picture of some silly picture first thing in the morning before going about her day and living her life on her days off. But it had been two days and you found it odd that she hadn’t sent any memes, jokes, or even talked about going out that night.

When the door opened you happened to glance up and you saw Danielle running in with a frantic expression across her features. When Danielle made eye contact with you, you realized she was rushing over to the bar to meet you.

“Y/N, have you heard from Callie lately? I saw her boyfriend this morning and he was out at some diner and he acted like he was just fine while he was sitting beside some girl.” She rambled, catching you off guard with how fast she was talking.

“What? No I haven’t, wait he was with another girl?” You asked.

“Yeah and you wanna know what else? I heard Nelson was visited by two guys in suits. I think the FBI is looking into it. Maybe they caught a glimpse of something with Nelson’s wife and they’re looking into it.”

“But the cops already talked to Nelson. That was the whole point of him not stopping by the bar at all like two days ago. Why would the FBI need to talk to him again? Poor guy’s already been through enough.” You said.

“Well, honestly I don’t think Nelson minds. I bet he’s a little glad he doesn’t have to deal with the constant heartbreak of his wife bumping ugliest with different men every other night.”

“Oh come on, that’s a little bit of an exaggeration.” You tried to give the former Mrs. Nelson the benefit of the doubt.

“Would you really be surprised if it was that often though?” Danielle smirked, you rolled your eyes a little before you started putting some of the clean glasses away to prepare for customers.

“Do you think the FBI will come here to see if we know anything? You know the manager’s out of town this week. What do we tell them if they happen to come in?” Danielle asked, starting to get a little worried, not much to your surprise.

“Danielle, breathe. If they come in and you spot them, just send them to me. I’ve got it covered. Not that they’ll ask anything we have any knowledge about anyway.” You said and Danielle took a deep breath before exhaling and nodding.

“I’m still worried about Callie.” She said.

“Well think about it… if you and your boyfriend broke up, are you going to want to spend a lot of time on your phone for the first couple of days? Or are you going to want to sleep and isolate for a while before you start making public appearances again.” You reasoned.

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll tell you what. After we clock out tonight, we can go over to Callie’s house and check up on her and make sure she’s alright.” You insisted.

“Okay… yeah that sounds like a plan.”

“Now… why don’t you go ahead and clock in and we can get the show on the road. They may not even come at all, and Callie will more than definitely be alright.” You insisted and Danielle nodded.

With that being said the two of you got to work. You were busily serving different customers at the bar with different drinks. Some you were used to making but apparently there were some visitors and they wanted something fancy. Two preppy looking guys had just walked through the door and made themselves comfortable at the bar. They looked like they were the country club type of guys.

“Hey, Miss! Can I get a Boulevardier cocktail over here?” One of them said. He had waved ginger hair and he was wearing a blue golf shirt.

“Yeah and I’ll have Vieux Carre cocktail, Darlin.” The other said. He was blond, hair parted to the side and he wore an orange golf shirt with white stripes.

These people must’ve had the worst taste in clothing, and an even worse taste in drinks. You couldn’t even try and pronounce these things and you weren’t even sure if you had the right ingredients for these stupid sounding drinks.

“Sure. I’ll get right on that for you fellas.” You replied and went to the back to get the glasses. Then you pulled out the phone to see what the heck those drinks were. Luckily for you, you had some similar ingredients, but you weren’t working in a fancy bar so you had some pretty basic drinks, they’ll just have to deal with generic.

You grabbed what you needed and started to make the drinks and you thought you heard Danielle’s voice followed by two gruff sounding voices. Yay, more customers.

You were too focused on making the drinks but that was when Danielle started walking towards the bar with the two men she was talking to.

“Y/N? I’ve got a couple of agents that would like to speak with you.” Danielle called.

When you glanced over you saw a familiar green pair of eyes, the ones that you’ve drawn numerous times. They’ve changed though, like they’ve seen so much more. But seeing Dean there… it was like everything in your world stopped and you accidentally dropped the glasses you needed.

The sound of the glass shattering on the floor snapped you out of it.

You immediately started looking for a broom but Danielle started rushing over to help you, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it for you. What did these guys order?”

“Thank you… Some cocktails with fancy names. I’ll send you the recipes.” You said as you wiped your hands on the apron.

“You okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” She said and you nodded a little.

“Yeah, I’m okay… I’ll tell you later.” You told her, not wanting to be wrong if your suspicions are correct.

You nibbled on your bottom lip softly before letting it go and you walked over to the two federal agents.

Dean was straightening up his tie uncomfortably. All these years later and he still hated these damned monkey suits but then he felt Sam nudge his arm and when Dean looked up, he could feel his breath taken away.

No, it couldn’t be you could it?

You looked so beautiful, time seemed to have done wonders for you and Dean almost found it hard to breathe at the sight of you.

Of all the towns this case had to take place in, it just had to be the one you lived in. Have you heard anything about the case? You didn’t know about all the ugliness out there yet, did you?

“My friend said you wanted to speak with me? How can I help you?”

God your voice brought back so many memories, but Dean couldn’t dwell on them. Besides, you probably forgot about him so what was the point? Still… it was eating at his mind.

“Um… yeah… Agent Peart, could you get us a couple of drinks and maybe talk to one of the other bartenders?” Dean said.

Sam looked over and raised a brow skeptically. Dean was lucky Sam didn’t really question it and the younger Winchester walked off, giving Dean the time to be alone with you.

“So Ms… L/N, right?” Dean asked, almost hesitant.

But he watched the corner of your lips turn upward into a smile, “Yes, Agent Winchester.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you did remember him after all.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d recall…”

“Dean, it may have been a few years since that summer but I’m not old enough for dementia.” You joked.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little and the two of you found a place to sit at the bar table. It’s been so long since he’s been this close to you and it felt just like it did before.

“So how’ve you been? How’s your father and the business?” You asked, Dean remembered that he never told you the exact truth. You had a lot to catch up on he supposed.

“Dad um… well he passed several years ago. About five years after that summer, actually.” Dean said and he watched the way you began to frown.

“I’m sorry to hear that… I remember how you used to talk about him and how close you were.” You told him and he gave a bittersweet smile.

“Things well.. they changed in the five years after. A lot did actually. But my brother and I actually take care of the family business.” He told you and you lifted a brow.

“If you’re an agent now, how do you have the time for a traveling business?” You asked and he felt his palms get clammy, knowing that might be a difficult thing to answer.

“Um… well… Agents like me and Peart aren’t always in one place, so I still travel a lot anyway and when I’m off duty I handle the business as much as I can.” He tried to explain in the most believable way possible.

“You never did tell me what kind of business your dad started. I was always so curious.” You said and Dean wished he could tell you the truth.

“Actually… I need to ask you a few questions. I’m sort of on a case and I don’t really have a whole lot of time to catch up this time around.” He admitted softly.

Dean felt his heart sank at the way your shoulders seemed to slump a little before you looked down at your glass of brandy. He wished he could spend as much time with you as possible, but he couldn’t afford to lose anymore people. People have already lost their lives because of him and he couldn’t afford to do that to you too. He couldn’t handle it.

“What is it you want to know, Agent?”

The switch to the professionalism in your tone pierced Dean through the heart. Maybe he should have asked Sam to keep him some company after all, but from the looks of it he was busy interviewing someone else and writing notes down like the nerd he was.

“The owner… did you have many interactions with his wife?” He asked and he watched you shake your head.

“No. Too busy working. Plus she seldom came here anyway. She was more of a promiscuous woman than anything else. Nelson knew that better than anyone else.” You sighed.

“Nelson.. do you think he’d ever want to take revenge on his wife or pay someone to do it?” Dean asked, making this seem like routine questions - in a way they were still important for a hunter’s case. Who knows, maybe Nelson could he the werewolf he was looking for.

“And risk losing the bar because he’s in jail? No. He was hurt by his wife’s actions, yeah. But for a while they tried to work on it, but then they separated for a month. After that they started living together again before the affairs started up again. And from the looks of it he didn’t have the time to deal with his adulterous wife if she wasn’t willing to change. But there were rumors of a divorce.”

“Do you think Nelson had any enemies? Someone that wanted to get to him through the Mrs?” Dean asked.

“Look, Dean. I don’t keep tabs on my boss and his wife. I don’t care about that kind of thing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to serve and you have a murder to solve. Don’t let me keep you.” You said and abruptly stood up and walked away to get back to work.

Dean rubbed his face before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Well that looks like it was a disaster.”

Dean heard the sound of his brother’s voice and he rolled his eyes a little before he got up.

“Let’s get out of here and compare notes…”

“You okay, Man?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Let’s just go.” Dean stated and he pushed his chair in before they walked out of the door after putting some cash on the table top for the drinks.

Once the two of them got into the car, Dean started the Impala and when he was pulling out he started to drive to the hotel, then Sam started to talk again.

“So why were you so in a rush to leave? What the hell happened back there?” Sam asked, causing Dean to grimace a little but he knew his brother wouldn’t let it go until he knew what was going on.

“You remember the girl we were talking about? The cover artist?” He said and Sam nodded.

“Wait, that was Y/N? Why don’t we go back? You two can catch up! It’s just a werewolf case, a milk run. I can handle this and give you time with her.” Sam said; and as much as Dean appreciated the willingness, he knew his chances were probably gone.

“Oh no… what did you do?” Sam asked when Dean went quiet.

“Why is it always something that I did?” Dean asked and Sam scoffed.

“Because, Dean. As smooth as you are with women you’ll never see again, you always screw up with the ones that matter and you let them go. Why are you trying to let this one go?”

“Because I can’t have what happened to Jo and Lisa happen to her. Even though Jo was a hunter, she still got killed! Lisa didn’t have experience with hunting, never wanted anything to do with it, and she just got in trouble just by knowing me.” Dean said sternly, beginning to speed because he wasn’t exactly focused on the road.

“Dean! Slow down! We aren’t on a roller coaster!”

Dean heard his brother’s panicky voice and he eased on the gas and tried to focus on what he was doing and eventually they made it to the hotel. Luckily there weren’t any cops on the road so he didn’t get pulled over or anything on the way. But he turned off the car and Sam cleared his throat a little.

“Sam, I don’t want advice on this one. It’s better to just let this one go.”

“Dean, come on. I know for a fact you still have that picture she drew for you. And you said it yourself, that was the best summer of your life! You deserve to experience that kind of happiness again. Especially since things seem to be so calm right now. No angelic wars, no apocalypses, things are quiet and you deserve a break.”

Dean was still quiet.

“And you still aren’t going to tell me what down at the bar, are you?”

With a grunt, Dean stepped out of the car and started making his way up the stairs to get to their designated room.

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @nancymcl @jackles010378 @hobby27 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @blackcherrywhiskey @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

𝕋𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒 𝕂𝕖𝕚 𝕩 ℕ𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕪𝕒!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

— — —

Reader is Nishinoya Yuu’s sister who looks different enough from him that no one would guess they were siblings. Tsukishima has been pining for Y/n for months now, not ever knowing she was Noya’s sister. When she shows up to the gym one day wearing Noya’s sweater and calling him Yuu, people think that they’re together.

Misunderstandings and jealousy ensue.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own Haikyuu or it’s characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Use of Y/n, Jealous Tsukki, Misunderstanding, One(1) Mention of Reader being taller than Noya, Slight mention of Injury and Blood(not much!), Slightly Awkward Tsukki and Reader, I think that’s it???

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

Tsukishima successfully blocked Hinata’s practice spike and smirked at the upset carrot top. When the boy kept glaring, the taller got tired of the look and walked away.

“Hey! Stingyshima! Where are you going?!” The cry fell on deaf ears as Tsukishima just didn’t care, heading to the sidelines to grab his water bottle. Just as he began drinking the doors to the gym slid open. All heads turned at the sound and Tsukishima’s surprise at the visitor made him squeeze his hand, water spraying over his face.

The girl who’d caught his eye months prior stood in the doorway, smiling lightly at the sight of the team. She wore a uniform skirt with thigh-high socks under her flats, though what everyone seemed to notice was the jacket she was wearing. It was one of theirs, their volleyball jacket. More specifically it was Nishinoya’s jacket she had around her, the fabric slightly loose on her form.

“Yuu!” Her angelic voice rang through the gym, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. She ran over to the boy and threw her arms around him. Tsukki’s heart panged and hurt at the motion, the girl who’d caught his fancy already had someone.. and it was his tiny senpai.

“Y/n?! What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t gonna come until after school practice!” Noya cried though anyone could see he was happy to see her. That fact alone made Tsukki want to both wretch and punch Nishinoya in that moment.

“Well, I thought I’d surprise you! I also made you a bento since you forgot to make one for yourself!” She lightly smirked and playfully flicked his forehead.

“Uhm.. Hi, I don’t mean to intrude on you two, but we’ve gotta get back to practice.” Daichi brought their attention back to the rest of the world.

“Ah! Sorry about that! You’re.. Daichi, right? Yuu has told me a lot about you! All of you in fact!” Y/n grinned at the team, the beaming smile only making Tsukki fall deeper, as much as that hurt now. “I’ll let you all get back to practice! See you later, Yuu! Oh! Hi, Ryuu!” She noticed the short boy’s best friend who eagerly waved back at her. The moment the doors slid shut all hell broke loose.

“Noya!! Who was that?!”

“She’s so gorgeous!!”

“Where have you been hiding that Goddess?!”

“Since when do you even know such a pretty girl?!”

“Since when do you have a girlfriend?!”

Unfortunately, the last demand got lost amongst all the others and never got answered.

“Her name is Y/n! She’s my-“ Noya got cut off by Ukai yelling from across the gym to get their asses back to practice.

That was the first time the team met her, it certainly wasn’t the last, though.

Y/n never interrupted practice again after that. She did make sure to show up to every game though, even practice games. She was occasionally allowed to come along during training camps as well because she’d subbed in for Kiyoko and Yachi a good few times or assisted Yachi when Kiyoko had to focus more on her duties as a Third Year. Outside of Volleyball business, however, she would still come around when she knew she wasn’t intruding on anything and if she did show up during practice, she ended up helping Kiyoko or Yachi, sometimes even helping the boys by refilling their water bottles and getting their towels.

Every single time, though, she would be clinging to Nishinoya like he was her lifeline. If he wasn’t immediately available, she’d cling to Tanaka’s side. The fact that Tanaka also got her attention only aided in annoying Tsukki more.

She’d often show up to the group wearing something of Noya’s(as they could tell by his surname written on it somewhere) or show up arm in arm with the guy himself, laughing like anything.

Finally, one day, he couldn’t stand it as she kissed his senpai’s cheek and ruffled his hair before she left, calling a sweet farewell to the rest of the team as well. She gave a particular, lingering smile at a certain tall blonde before her especially fond parting with the shortest boy. He was unfortunately too deep in his jealousy to notice, however.

Kei stood abruptly and walked away from the group, not saying a single word to anyone, the sour look on his face telling nearly all, though. He walked in the direction of the vending machines for cover as an escape so no one would bother him, particularly a certain human tangerine. Luckily, though they all wanted to mercilessly tease the blonde, they left him be, knowing that his mood would only deteriorate more if they didn’t which wouldn’t be very pleasant for anyone. (They did have to stop Hinata, the innocent, naïve bean, though)

A painful ‘thud’ sounded from the machine’s glass, Kei’s fist having collided with it in his rage. He wouldn’t admit it to another living soul, not even Tadashi, but he let a few tears slip out of his eyes, most of them landing on his glasses, his head aimed directly at the ground. He couldn’t stand the fact that such a loud and obnoxious shrimp could get the attention of the girl who had truly captured his heart and they just had to flaunt it all the time right in front of him, even if they didn’t know it.

Suddenly, he heard voices nearby and he quickly straightened himself out before hiding his, now bleeding, hand in his pocket. He settled his face into his usual smug-indifferent expression and coolly sauntered off to wander back towards the group. If he should happen to take a more scenic route and just happen to take a little longer getting back, well then that was up to the fates.

As he wandered back, he found the source of the voices and heard their conversation more clearly.

“-Yuu, I swear to god! Give me my phone back!” Y/n’s voice rang as she shouted at Noya.

“And what if I don’t? What’ll you do then, shorty?”

“Yuu… I-.. I’m literally taller than you.” She deadpanned, looking at him like an idiot. Kei snickered at that, almost ashamed to admit he was even the least bit pleased that there seemed to be Trouble in Paradise. Almost.

“Well- I mean- I guess, yea, but still, compared to.. y’know.. other people! You’re short!” He declared like he had already won the argument.

“Well, you’re not ‘Other People’ so you don’t get to call me short, Shrimpy.” She smirked and that paired with that retort only served to ensnare Kei even more, as much as he knew he would regret it.

“Now. Give me. Back. My phone. And before you ask what I’m gonna do about it, I’ll tell Mom and you and I both know neither of us wants that. So either you give me my damn phone now or you can suffer the wrath of Nishinoya Asuka. So, which is it?” She challenged, holding out her hand, palm up and waiting for her phone to be placed in it.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Noya narrowed his eyes at her, still clutching her soft golden-coloured phone more towards his back, “I know for a fact you haven’t told her about what exactly you spent all your allowance on and I’m sure mom would love to hear about that four-foot dino-” Noya was cut off before he could finish when Y/n faked charging him from the right and then swooping in on his left and grabbing her phone from his hand with a ‘Yoink!’

“You tell anyone about that, and you’re a deadman, you hear me? I don’t care that you’re my brother. You spill to anyone and I’ll be wanted for fratricide.” She threatened, narrowing her eyes at him with a steeled glare and pointing at him in a warning stance.

Hearing the whole conversation left Kei in a state of shock. She’s not dating him. He’s not dating her. They’re siblings. Most of the time when she showed up, supposedly wearing something of his, it was probably hers since that’s her name written on the clothes he and some of the others teased him about for being so girly. She always stuck by him because he’s her brother. No wonder she’d feel so comfortable around him. And Tanaka since he might as well be Noya’s very own brother. Of course, she’d call him his first name if they’re siblings, not many things are closer than that.

They’re siblings. They’re brother and sister. Not dating. That kiss on the cheek and ruffle of his hair was familial affection.

And what was that about a four-foot Dino?

When he saw the two part and Y/n start to head towards the direction he was in, he quickly backtracked enough that it would seem casual for him to walk by and seem like he couldn’t have overheard their conversation.

“O-oh! Tsukki- uh- Tsukishima! Fancy running into you here!” Y/n stumbled a bit on her words and a bit of a reddish tint appeared on her cheeks as she looked up at him.

“Ah, yea. I thought I heard a little bit of yelling earlier, are you okay?” He asked, wanting confirmation from her that everything was alright.

“Ah- uh, yea! Don’t worry! Just a little tiff between me and Yuu! I think I heard somewhere that you have an older brother, do you ever get into petty squabbles with him, too?” Y/n chuckled nervously. It seemed like she was so casual about the information that she and Noya were siblings that they were clearly not hiding it. It seems like they assumed everyone already knew.

To be fair, a couple of them share at least a class with her so you’d think they’d know her surname. Although to be fair, each of those classes she shared with the idiot duo so it makes sense it would go over their heads.

“Oh, uh, yea. A few too many, if you were to ask my mom.” He said lightly, a small breathy chuckle at the end. Man, why did he have to be so awkward around her? His train of thought was quickly cut off, though, when she giggled. Her eyes closed and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth with a loose fist but he could still see her smile and it was, still, the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Hinata’s name might mean sun but the girl right in front of him was brighter than any sun. The sight of her giggling at something he had said made him smile, one he didn’t even try to stop or hide. He would definitely try and deny the blush, though.

“I understand that,” she tried to say through her giggles as they tapered off, “Ryuu and Saeko-nee are always fighting. Honestly, it’s kinda rare to not see them squabbling.”

“Saeko-nee?” Kei noticed she was the only one she used an honorific for. For an older sister, no less.

“Oh! She insisted that I call her Nee-san and said that she’d adopt me as her new sibling in exchange for Ryuu.” She laughed, clearly very amused by the situation, and given her compliance, completely accepted it as well. He gave a sound of understanding and the air between the two fell into a comfortable silence, just looking at each other for a moment.

The only thing that permeated the silence was the sound of a tiny little wet ‘plap’. They both looked down toward the sound and there they saw a single droplet of blood on the ground. Soon enough though, it was joined by another.

Y/n’s eyes widened and she surged forward. Quickly, she scooped his hand in between her own to inspect the cuts that he had, quite honestly, forgotten about.

“Tsukki! Oh my Kami! Are you okay?! What happened?!” She cried, too caught up in the moment and her worry to correct herself or even realize when she called him ‘Tsukki’ rather than Tsukishima.

“Uh, I-..” He stuttered, flustered by how close she was and how tenderly she was holding his hand.

She didn’t waste any more time and immediately reached into her bag and pulled out a travel First Aid Kit. She set to work on disinfecting and bandaging his hand, halting for a moment and gently stroking her thumb over the back of his hand when he would hiss at the sting. Once she was finished, it seemed to be a force of habit when she placed a gentle kiss over the bandaged cuts.

“There.” She stated, then looked up and saw Kei looking at her, wide-eyed and blushing and she realized what she had done. “I-! I am so sorry!” She called and jumped away from him, her face about as red as that Guess Guy from Shiratorizawa, “I-it was a force of habit!”

Her flustered state was probably one of the cutest things Kei had ever seen and he couldn’t help the small, soft smile that appeared on his lips.

“Cute…” He muttered though it was far louder than intended. Loud enough, to be specific, for her to hear him between her rambling apologies.

“I-… huh?” She froze, eyes wide again, and stared at him.

“Uh-! I- uhm-“ It was his turn to get flustered as he tried to find any excuse to cover up what he said.

“Tsukki…” She started, cutting off his own ramblings. She moved forward again, this time more slowly and cautiously, until she stood in front of him, still a reasonable distance away before she spoke again, “I…” Her hands slowly moved in front of her and clasped together in front of her skirt before she leaned into a bow, “I like you.” She tilted her head up to glance at him, “Please.. Will you go out with me?” Her voice was surprisingly steady given how red her face was and how obviously her hands fidgeted and trembled.

Kei froze. He just got a confession. A girl… just confessed to him. No, not just a girl. The girl he’s completely, hopelessly, head over heels in love with. Just confessed to him and asked him out. System Shutdown. Tsukishima Kei.exe has stopped working. How speak? How say yes? How confess back? How nod?

“I-I.. Y-yes… I will.. I will return your feelings…” He somehow managed to speak enough to make sense. To say ‘Yes’.

[dckweed]

Sooo glad you posted a second part of the Jakex best friend baby story. A huuuge hug for you =) so in a matter of fact I squealed a bit as I read that you're accepting requests for this story. So I would have an idea, maybe you like it, if not I'm still going to read EVERYTHING you write =)

I'm thinking of reader is feeling off for days, like feeling dizzy and stressed out. The nausea is also taking a toll on her. One evening at the Hard Deck with the whole squad a woman is approaching Jake... Unfortunately it's his ex girlfriend. She immediately flirts with him and making the reader really uncomfortable. Jake tries to get rid of his bitchy ex by showing off reader and introducing her to his ex. She's already sporting a small bump, which his ex notices. Later reader goes to the bathroom, not feeling so hot, but Jake's ex follows her and corners her at the bathroom insulting reader for being a slut, being pregnant and stealing Jake, absolutely stressing the pregnant woman out. After her harassment she leaves the bathroom leaving reader alone. The whole situation worsens her feeling sick and she collapses in one of the stalls.

Just need some huuuge whump and Jake and the Daggers being protective. Maybe you can use some of my ideas.

P.S.: it's so brave that you share your personal story here with us. You're a strong young woman. I belive in you!

hiii thank you for sending this in! absolutely love the idea! and thank you so much, i feel like eating disorders and the struggles that come with them aren't something thats spoken of enough and i really would like to bring awareness by sharing my own story :) so, if anyone has any questions about that, feel free to send them in ! I'm here to advocate and be a voice..if you think you have one or know someone who does and dont know how or where to get help, i got you, if you're wondering how to cope with symptoms, i got you!

in the meantime however, i give you my comfort loves, jake and babygirl! please feel free to send in any requests, comments or thoughts that you may have for this particular series ! and in lieu of halloween, this is officially halloween themed.

p.s. how are we doing today? are we hydrated? have we had a snack or two? this is your reminder to go do both if you haven't already! also does someone want to possibly make a boodboard for jake and babygirl?? full credit would go to you in every post if i use it !

warnings: elusions to sex and actual soft sex mentioned and described as well as cockwarming briefly mentioned, pregnancy, fainting, hospitals, grown adults bullying essentially

the babygirl series part three, part two here

BABYGIRL, the playlist

INSECURITIES. jake 'hangman' seresin

Your breathing was even as you layed on your back, one of your legs caught between his. The NAVY tshirt you were wearing (his navy tshirt) rode up to rest just beneath your glorious breasts with your arms raised up, one tucked under the pillow next to your head, the other laid across his chest, your tummy on full display. You had been with him for just over a month now, having extended your two week vacation indefinitely. He knew you two would have to fly home sometime soon, to pack up the things in your apartment and eventually make your way over to your families ranch's to let them know what was going on, but he didn't want to think about that, not now when had what felt like all the time in the world to admire you.

Your stomach rose and fell with every breath and almost instinctively he finds his hand resting there, thumb rubbing gently back and forth over the small but slowly growing more prominent baby bump you were beginning to sport. You had been shy about him doing that, and he knew that it was because in the back of your mind, that little baby growing in you hadn't come from him, but if you asked him, that little girl in there was his, even without the Seresin blood. He hadn't ran away or called you names when you had told him, infact, it had only drawn him to you more. You were his, and so was the little miracle you were growing and he wasn't afraid to admit it either. Hell, he had gone that night to the Hard Deck, a dopey grin on his face as he walked in with your hand in his and had announced it to the entire bar, happily telling his friends and Penny about the bun in your proverbial oven. He couldn't help but smile at the memory.

You shift after another moment, a small groan coming from your throat as you turn towards him, head pressed against his chest now. He presses a content kiss to the top of your messy hair adjusting you so that his arm was under you now, holding you against him. The bedroom was still dark but sunlight was slowly starting to seep through the small slit in the curtains, lighting up a small patch of the floor and the bed. He wondered if he should get up and open the window for you, maybe brew a pot of the decaf coffee he'd immediately switched you to when he found out about the baby.

He's about to decide against the thoughts, not wanting to wake you, not when you were sleeping so soundly after having a rough week of being sick and uncomfortable, you beat him to it though, your soft whine reaching his ears. "Mornin' babygirl.." He says, southern accent more prominent in his gruff morning voice. A smile spreads across his lips, as easy as butter glides across toasts as you lift your head up slowly, sleepy eyes meeting his before planting a long and slow good morning kiss on him. "You were sleeping so good, i didn't want to wake you up.."

You hum, trying to gather your sleepy wits about you, even though it had only been a month, jake was usually the only thing you noticed in the mornings, his warmth and love completely enveloping you, the only thing your mind could register besides the nausea usually rolling in your tummy, so it took you a moment to fully wake up.

After a few minutes of snuggling into your boyfriend, his hand rubbing your belly almost soothingly, you decide that you don't feel queasy enough to run to the bathroom right away (a godsend, really) and you shift yourself so that you're sitting atop of him, legs on either side of his hips, comforter slouched around your legs.

He looks up at you with an amused smile, large hands gliding up your thighs to land on your hips, just underneath of the baggy tshirt you'd stolen from him. "Somethin' i can help you with?" He asks, sleepy southern drawl sending shockwaves through your body as the hands on your hips grind you down against him, you were still bare from the night before, the two of you having stayed up late together just making love to each other.

You were insatiable when it came to him, maybe it was years of pent up sexual tension, maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just that you guys were so perfect for each other that you literally could not get enough of one another, whatever it was though, neither of you was complaining. You had never been more satisfied from just one single touch before, had never been left craving more of the person you were with until you had been with Jake.

"Have time for a proper good morning, fly boy?" You ask teasingly, already lifting the hem of your shirt to toss it onto the floor, which was where most of your clothes had been finding their home these days when it came to the bedroom.

"Keep it on for me, babygirl, want you to wear it while i watch you ride me," You hadn't even noticed that one of his hands had already been between your bodies, but he was sliding his cock out of his boxers and gliding you down onto it as he spoke, a sigh of pleasure already leaving your lips before you're even sunk down fully onto him. "Feel so good babygirl," He groans, already pussy drunk off of you.

His fingers grip tighter onto your hips as you ride him lazily, hips moving back and forth in a languid but pleasurable pace, his hips bucking up into yours softly. "Jake," You whine, hands planted on his hard chest, fingers curled into the coarse hairs that scattered there, he grunts in response as he thrusts up into you, his massive hands pulling you down to meet his cock with each one. "so full baby, feels so good jakey.." Your words only fueled his ego, his eyebrows furrowing as he pumps up into you, you were both still overly sensitive from the night before and he knew that he wasn't going to last long, and neither were you judging by the way your nails dug into the skin of his chest.

Jake furrows his brows deeper, watching your face contort with pleasure as he continues to slowly fuck up into your overly sensitive body, his own toes curling into the mattress as he tries to stave off his own orgasm, a feat proving much harder than he had originally thought with the noises that escaped you and the way your pussy felt clamping around him right then.. "..so pretty, babygirl, always so fucking pretty for me.." He grunts out, feeling the way you clench down on him, hearing the whine come from your throat as you cum, your thighs shaking on either side of him. "..that's it baby, thats it.." He says, not too far behind you. He cums as your body sags against his, his hands on your ass the only thing holding you steady as you bury your head in his neck, leaving small kisses along the top of his collar bone.

"..Do you have to go to work, baby?" You ask, lifting your head up to look at him, the pout that he had never been able to say no to adorning your lips.

You can't help but smirk a little as your boyfriend throws his head back with a groan, one of his hands snaking its way up your back. "Babygirl, i would give anything to stay home with you attached to me like this all day long," his voice is thick, that accent ever so present as he tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear. "but i gotta go to work, we're running flight trainings today.." Though they were a permanent mission squad within the TOP GUN training academy, they weren't always training for missions and today was one of those days where they got to run flights with the newer admissions who all thought they were the shit. Otherwise known as, Jake Seresin Gets To Show Off day.

You groan and drop your head to his chest, listening to him chuckle at you before he kisses the top of your head. "Fine, shower with me?" You lift your head up, a playful waggle to your eyebrows that he just can't say no to.

"I think that can be arranged." He says with a smile, his arms wrapping around your ass to hold you as he swiftly stands up with you, making you squeal in surprise as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him in fear of falling. Your ass meets the cold counter of the bathroom sink as he sets you down on it, peppering your face with kisses as he flips the light switch, making you giggle and smile that beautiful smile he loved so much. "Don't move."

"Yes Sir!" You chuckle, watching as he opens the shower door and steps in, turning it on. "Make sure its hot baby!" You instruct, practically feeling his eyes roll into the back of his head despite doing as you said.

"I will never understand you and the volcanic level of hot water you bathe in, how do you even have skin left?" He asks, voice serious as he walks over to you, stepping between your legs as he reaches behind you to turn the faucet on with one hand while the other reaches above your head, grabbing the bottle he'd seen you use every morning since you'd been with him.

"It's relaxing!" You argue, voice raising an octave as you try not to laugh at him when he suddenly splashes your face with cold water. "Excuse me for not liking to take an ice plunge every time i step into the shower," You cackle, causing him to start laughing as he brings his hands to your cheeks, gently rubbing them with your favorite facial cleanser. You hadn't even noticed him put it on his fingers, but it felt like he was massaging your face and it felt damn good. "You spoil me, you know?" You hum, relaxing into his touch, eyes closing. He could have lulled you back to sleep like that if he wanted to.

Jake grunts in disagreement. "I don't spoil you nearly enough, babygirl." He states, completely believing it. He wouldn't tell you but he was already planning how to ask you to marry him, he didn't need to wait a year, or even until the baby was born, he knew you were the one for him and he just couldn't wait to spoil you even more once you were his wife, and spoil the hell out of the little hellions you guys would have together.

After a minute he grabs a soft wash cloth from the drawer by the sink and wets it only a little, gently wiping the cleanser off of your face for you. The action of the thing was just so freaking sweet, and so fucking Jake that you didn't have the heart to tell him that you weren't supposed to wipe away the cleanser like that. It doesn't take long before the shower has steamed up the whole bathroom and he's helping you off of the counter before leading you into the shower, letting you step under the water first after he helps you slip his navy tshirt over your head.

You hum as the water hits you, your body relaxing as you feel his thumbs kneading the skin at the base of your neck, the spot where you tend to hold all of your tension. You lean back into him and just let the water wash over you, enjoying the closeness with him.

The pleasantness of the morning only lasts for a couple of hours, not too long after Jake leaves for work (with a kiss to your cheek and a smack to your ass) the intense feeling of nausea and a pounding headache that had been plaguing you with it for the past two weeks came crawling back, you thought you had been rid of it finally when you woke up feeling perfect this morning, but of course it was too good to be true. You're hunched over the toilet for hours, the breakfast Jake had been kind enough to make you crawling its way out of your stomach.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" You ask your stomach after a nasty bout of vomiting, and as if in answer, your stomach lurches unpleasantly, though you manage not to spew everywhere this time.

You seem to be fine for the rest of the day, though your head pounds and you sit in darkness until about the time that Jake gets off work, knowing he was going to be home and excited to head straight to the hard deck with the crew for Penny's Halloween party. You had been excited too, had even planned out your costume with him but god you hadn't felt this bad before, this was the most intense day of morning sickness that you'd had the entire time you'd been pregnant. You were tempted to call it off, send him on his own, but you knew he wouldn't go. He would stay by your side and take care of you, and you didn't want that, not when he had been so excited to show you off tonight.

Despite your better judgement you start getting yourself ready around the time you know he's getting ready to leave base, you know your timing is right because you get a 'be home soon babygirl' text from him a few minutes into your endeavor. You smile at your phone for a second, wondering how you got so damn lucky to be able to be in love with your best fucking friend in the whole world..

You're in the middle of painting your small but ever present swollen baby belly with safe, brown paint, standing in the full body mirror as you do it. You're trying to make it look as much like a bun as possible, which isn't as easy as it seems when you can't physically detach your stomach and lay it flat on a table to look at and paint like you could literally anything else. You hear the front door open, and his voice carry's through it's usual greeting. "In the bedroom!" You holler back. You hear something thump onto the floor (his duffle, probably filled with his sweaty khaki uniform and underclothes) and his boots thud down the hallway.

"Hey, Babyg-" You turn to face him as soon as you peek him and his dark green flight suit in the doorway, showing off the bun you were working so hard on. Thankfully, focusing so hard on something else had pushed your nausea and headache to the back of your mind, the least of your worries as you locked eyes with your grinning boyfriend. "That looks so good Babygirl! Look at you and our little girl all dressed up for Halloween.." He steps into the room, his smile lighting his face as he brings his lips to yours, before he can even kiss you though your nose scrunches up at the smell of him, sweaty and smelling like airplane fuel and oil.

You know it's coming before your stomach even lurches and you shove him away from you so hard he lands on the bed, a shocked noise escaping him as you rush into the bathroom, sliding in front of the toilet just in the nick of time. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hear Jake rush into the bathroom behind you, crouching down with you to rub your back. You manage to wave him away as you heave and he seems to get the hint, taking a step back.

"You smell." You groan when you're sure you've finished, trying to find the strength to stand up and rinse your mouth out. Jake makes an offended noise in the back of his throat, but you shoot him a glare that tells him you're serious and it seems to shut him up.

"Right," He says, clapping his hands together as you finally stand up. "i'll shower, you finish getting ready if you feel like you're able to go..if not, we'll stay home and watch 90 day Fiancé or something.." He wouldn't admit it to you, but your reality show addiction had become one of his new favorite hobbies and he would be more than happy to spend the night in bed with you binging. Who needed a Halloween party anyway? "How many times have you done that today?"

"I'll be fine to go, that's the first time that's happened all day." You lie, sidling up next to him to rinse out your mouth, trying desperately not to breathe through your nose so you don't repeat the emptying of your already empty stomach for the tenth time today. You meet his eyes in the mirror, he's looking at you like he doesn't believe you. "Really baby," You smile, turning around to face him. You look up at the handsome man before you, trying your hardest not to breathe in his scent. "I'll be okay, just take a shower and wash all the airplane gunk off of you before it happens again."

He gives you a long look, green eyes searching your face for any sign that he shouldn't let you go tonight and just make you stay home instead, he really couldn't have cared either way about the damn halloween party, now that he had you, you were the only thing that he ever cared to spend his time with. "Okay," He concedes, ruffling your hair with his ginormous hand. You roll your eyes at the action, but your body relaxes despite feeling horrible about the lie. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

You pushed through the next hour or so, finishing your costume while Jake showered and got himself ready, eagerly talking about how the two of you were going to kick Phoenix and Bob's asses in the costume contest that Penny was hosting tonight, and how he was so excited to show you and the belly off and as you checked yourself out in the mirror, you were once again reminded of just how lucky you were to have Jake to love you and the little miracle growing inside of you.

You pushed through Jake cooking himself a quick snack, you even made it through the drive to the bar like a champ, driving his big ass truck all the way there while he lay in the back seat because he refused to take his costume off until after the contest.

You had been at the bar for a couple of hours, mingling with Bob and Phoenix for the most part, who looked adorable in their Buzz and Woody costumes, when you took a turn for the worse. You and the rest of the squad had gotten to the bar quite early to help Penny finish setting up and as it started filling up with other people from base and some of the new TOP GUN students you and Jake had somehow gotten separated and after a while of talking with Phoenix about doing a shopping trip and lunch date on her next day off you started to look around for him.

Jake was at the pool table, high fiving Bradley as he sunk a ball into one of the pockets, very obviously wining the game of pool he had been roped into with the new recruits. You cant help the smile that lights your face when he catches your eye, sending you a signature Jake Seresin smirk and a wink of his eye. You giggle to yourself, your heart feeling full of nothing but love and happiness when it came to him.

"God, you guys are so in love its honestly sickening.." Natasha mutters, rolling her eyes with a playful smile on her face as she sips her whiskey on the rocks. You cackle in laughter, pushing her shoulder gently as you leave her side and make your way over to Jake, you'd had enough of being away from his side for one night.

A couple of people move in front of you as you're walking, and you have to stop and say hello to Maverick, who had arrived stylishly late to the party. "You're glowing!" He had said, giving you a kiss on your cheek. He was honestly in complete awe of you and the affect that you had on Hangman, he had done a complete 360 since you'd gotten together and he couldn't thank you enough for it because he wasn't sure how to handle it some days.

You chat with him for a few moments before making your way to Jake, except when he comes back into your view this time there's someone else with him. A tall bottle blonde in a risqué nurses costume that was honestly probably lingerie, she had fishnet stockings on and mile high platform stripper heels.

She was the kind of girl that had always caught his attention before you.

She was the kind of girl you had always been underlyingly jealous of.

And that jealously came rearing its ugly head. Fists clenched to your sides you walked over to your boyfriend with a purpose, not even catching their conversation before you wrapped your arms around his always so toned and tight bicep that was sticking out of the arm hole of the costume he had spent time making himself.

"Hey Babygirl," He says immediately, turning his head to plant a big fat kiss on your lips, you could practically feel his body relaxing at your touch and that seemed to cause you jealousy to ease, knowing that he was being held hostage in the conversation. "Jessa, this is my Babygirl.." The woman in front of you looked at you with narrowed eyes and then looked down at your costumes, her eyes roaming from your painted pregnant belly to his oven costume and and then back again, it seemed like it took a moment for all of the wheels to turn but they finally clicked into place.

"We dated for a while, not that long ago..just wanted to come over and say hello." She says. "I had heard you were settled down but i didn't think it could possibly be true.." Her eyes never leave his as she speaks, batting her eyelashes at him as if trying to entice him.

Jake raises his beer bottle to his lips, glancing down to you as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. "Well, I hate to break it to you but..its true.." You grind out, your queasy stomach returning as you catch a whiff of her strong perfume. "I'll be right back baby.."

You barely make it to the ladies room all the way across the bar before it spews out of you. You're hunched over the toilet for a good few minutes heaving and queasing and so focused on yourself that you don't hear bathroom door squeak open again, or the stripper heels smacking against the tiled floor that Penny thankfully kept in pristine cleanliness.

You don't notice the other presence in the bathroom until you've stood up and turned around, headed to wash your hands and try to wash the small bit of vomit off of your black shirt. You stop in your tracks immediately when you spot her, arms crossed over her outrageously exposed breasts as she stands with her hip popped, as if she were looking for a fight.

"I always knew he liked easier girls, but i never thought he liked actual whores." She states, eyeing your pregnant belly with clear disdain. "I'm not stupid, i can do basic math. He stopped calling me almost two months ago, way too soon for you to be thus far pregnant with his baby."

"..excuse me?" You utter, mouth watery again as you fought of what you hoped was just nerves and not another round of throwing up..you didn't think you could go 12 rounds today and still make it through the party.

The woman cackles damn near evilly. "The way Jake always spoke about his babygirl I thought she was this pure angel. Turns out she's a fucking whore." She shakes her head, eyeing once more. "You're not his type either, he really must fucking pity you if he's fucking you like this, the poor thing.."

You can't think of anything to say, you could barely hold your head up with how suddenly dizzy you were. As she turns to leave the bathroom, the door swinging open, the vomit spews out of you like lava spewed out of Pompeii and as you sink to the floor, trying to keep your own head up, too dizzy to see straight or use your voice or even think, you couldn't help but to remember the words that she had said..that he must have pittied you..that wasn't true..right?

Natasha noticed Jessa come out of the bathroom that she had seen you go into earlier, and maybe it was just because she was slightly paranoid but she felt like she needed to poke her head in and check on you, especially after she sauntered right back up to Jake and ran her hand down his bicep after you had very clearly made it known that she needed to back off.

"Keep an eye on Jessa," She says to Bob, catching her Wizzo's attention as she slipped off of her bar stool. "I'm gonna go check on Babygirl.." Everyone had taken to calling you by Jake's nickname for you, it was practically your God given name by this point.

"On it." Bob says, taking his Shirley Temple with him as he strides from the bar top to the pool table.

Natasha pushes people out of her way, the wings of her Buzz costume doing all of the work for her as she makes her way to the restrooms, pushing the door opening and entering sideways. She hears your moan before she sees you slumped in a pool of your own throw up, your skin paler than the flourescent lighting in the small bathroom and a small sheen of sweat on your forehead. "Holy sit.." She says, crumbling down next to you, taking your head in her hands. "Babygirl? You awake?" A slight moan is the only response. "Fuck...fuck.."

She doesn't leave your side, but she thanks God for having long legs because she's able to catch the door stopper just right with her foot and open it far enough for her voice to carry. "JAKE! BOB! SOMEBODY HELP!" You moan again, your head thumping to her chest. Her voice must be loud enough because there's a drawn out silence before a scattering of feet pounding against the hardwood flooring of the Hard Deck. "Call 911!"

Jake's heart drops into his stomach as soon as he sees you, his eyes widening. "What happened?" He doesn't bother to care about the emotional crack in his voice as he drops to his knees, Bob and Rooster right behind him in the door way. "Nat, what the fuck happened?"

"I don't know, she was like this when I came in - Jessa had just come out!" She says panicking because she had never once seen Jacob Seresin look so scared and vulnerable before. "She keeps moaning and she's sweaty..Jake what if it's the baby?"

He squeezed his eyes closed, he couldn't bare to think of it, he couldn't bare to think of how sad and broken you would be..he couldn't even begin to think of how to pick up those broken pieces if that were the case, so he didn't think about it. He focused on Bob's voice behind him, on the phone with the 911 operator.

"...17 weeks pregnant, semi conscious.." Bob spoke to the person on the other end, Jake had told them all this morning how far along you were, forcefully showing everyone the pregnancy tracking app on his phone screen. Bob had remembered because of how excited Jake had been.

Jake looked at you, your head in Natasha's lap and then glanced back at Bradley who's eyes were wide with fear, an exact mimic of his own facial expression he was sure. He remembered suddenly that Natasha had said that someone had been in here before she found you..Jessa.

He was on his feet before he had even finished having the thought, shoving past Bradley who had the wherewithal to dutifully follow him as he stalked down the hallway and into the main area of the bar.

"Jessa!" He thundered, the bar going silent. She wasn't hard to find, she was one of the few girls dressed like a hooker. "What the fuck did you do? Huh?" He asks, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

"Jake, back off man-" Bradley's hand is on his shoulder pulling him back. Jessa scoffs at both of them and rolls her eyes turning around.

"Not my fault the skanky trash can't handle the thing growing inside of her." She says to her group of friends, causing them to start cackling.

She was lucky that Nat hadn't heard her, and that he didn't go crawling back to the bathroom to send her out here to do what he knew she would have because just then flashing lights shined through the front windows of the bar. Paramedics had arrived.

"Oh now that's just fucking dramatic!" She groans to her friends as Jake walks away, causing him to turn back around to start yelling at her once more. Bradley spins him back towards the door though and he runs outside to rush them in.

When you come to you're scared out of your mind, the last thing you remember were the words Jessa had said echoing in your mouth. Your heart starts to race and you hear a monitor start to go off, there were things attached to your stomach and your arms and all of a sudden his hands were on your shoulder, weary eyes looking into yours.

"..jake? what happened?" You ask, your heart already starting to calm down and you realize that the monitor that was going off was attached to you.

"You were dehydrated, you passed out.." Jake says, pressing a kiss to your temple as one hand goes to rest on your stomach, right next to the fetal monitors. "Your OB says that it's from throwing up so much, says that you weren't getting in as much as you were getting out.." You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the pillow, kicking yourself for letting it get that bad. "Why didn't you tell me it was that bad babygirl? You scared me shitless..you scared all of us..Nat found you laying in your own vomit..she came with me, wouldn't even go home to change..she's off hounding your doctor for more information.."

You process his words, hating yourself for putting your friend in that situation, for ruining the halloween party. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. "Is the baby okay?" Your lip quivers and tears begin to stream down your face. "Jake im so sorry baby, I thought I could tough it out, I didn't want you to worry.."

Jake sighs, kissing your forehead as he wipes the tears from your eyes, letting you know that the baby was okay, and that you would be okay too. That he was going to take care of you always, and his words washed over you completely, emptying your head of whatever doubt Jessa had temporarily placed in it.

taglist:

@bellaireland1981 @sky0401 @memoriesat30 @bat-luna-cat @memeorydotcom @mamachasesmayhem @kmc1989 @justherebecausesafarisucks @mrowphine @djs8891

[formosusiniquis]

Am I the Asshole?

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s); Steve Harrington/Original Character(s); Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 6052 | Rated: T | Tags: Modern AU, Reddit AU, Some AITA typical terrible people, QPR Steve & Robin, NB Steve, NB Robin AKA the Stobin AITA fic

r/AmITheAssshole u/HufflepuffHero94 9yrs ago AITA for being concerned about my girlfriends living situation?

Context: My (20F) girlfriend (18F) is amazing. She's a polyglot linguistics major, speaks three languages fluently and she's completely self-taught, a genius basically. We go to the same college (Midwestern Liberal Arts college) where we met in the marching band. Now R, my girlfriend, is from a small town. Like the kind of small town that they make jokes about in sitcoms, she isn't really online (so I'm not worried about her seeing this) because she claims they didn't even have the internet until she was in high school. She isn’t really “out” because of this. It’s like she lives in this semi-closeted space like some kind of TV queerbait character. It's not really a problem, I mean she’ll tell people we’re dating if they ask and all of our marching band friends know but when I ask about it she says it’s because it wasn’t really safe in her hometown growing up. But it’s 2014 not 1980…

Even though R is a freshman she’s in special accommodations. Instead of living in the dorms like the school usually requires she’s got a small, studio apartment just off of campus. A perk considering how awful living in the dorms is. R is a pretty private person and super studious. Most of our dates have been in the library or a study date at the coffee place on campus. She’s not big on PDA, she says she’s trying to get better at it but she’s still only sort of out and I’m her first real girlfriend. I was psyched when she asked me if I wanted to go with her to her apartment to study, said her best friend had a never fail study method that she was eager to try (and when she told me what it was I was pretty eager too).

R can’t drive, so when I pull into the parking lot of her complex she notices something and says her roommate hasn’t left for work yet. I’m a little confused because like I said she lives in a studio apartment, but she just brushes it off and says something about asshole parents and this being what they could afford when some money fell through. She’s sent me snaps from her place, so I know it’s pretty cozy so I tell her it’s fine. Obviously I’m concerned about what the set up is going to be like when we get up there but she insists that dingus (her words) will only be there for another couple minutes before they have to leave for work and that Stevie (again her words) is her best friend in the world. They moved here together from the same small town or something.

To give R credit, she’s definitely done the best she can with the space. When I walked it it definitely felt as homey as it does in her pictures. The door opened up into the kitchen and living room and she’s got those spaces divided off from the beds with one of those Chinese paper divider thingies. Anyway to make a long story short it turns out her roommate and best friend Stevie is actually a whole dude (19). He comes out, gives her a look and asks her if “us girls are planning a sleepover” and if he should make himself scarce for the evening. R says she doesn’t give him shit when his “special friends” come over and after that I kinda stopped listening. I slipped off into the apartment looking for the bathroom and that’s when I saw how their “bedroom” was set up. Twin beds INCHES apart, they might as well be sharing the same one.

Here’s where I might be the asshole. When her “friend” finally cleared out I told her the truth. I didn’t know how comfortable I was hanging out in her place where she lives with a guy. I do live in the dorms but I’ve got a single right now. I asked her to move in with me so she wouldn’t have to be in this situation. I guess it maybe sounded like I was dissing her friend, which I was but I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just think it’s weird that she won’t come out to anyone and is also living with some guy! I told her I wasn’t interested in being an experiment and if things were serious then she would want to move in with me.

That’s when she kicked me out and called me an asshole. But really I don’t think I’m being a dick for being concerned that she might just be jerking me along while she plays lesbian so she can tell her boyfriend about it at home. Even if nothing is going on I'm just worried that living in this kind of environment isn't safe for her. I mean this guy is probably just pretending to be her friend to get in her pants, I think the fact that they're from the same small town means she can't see that. I really think she would be better off if she moved into the dorms with me aita?

u/otpsnotbrotps NTA

u/foreplayisntreal NTA guys and girls can't be friends. If she even is a lez and a katy perry wannabe then roomie is just biding his time til she's ready to be converted

Read the rest on AO3

[captainpulisic]

i hate accidents! - c. pulisic

happy 25th birthday to my number one boy. again, this is for my girlies who go against gender norms and can’t cook!

gif credits to owner , wc: 1.8 k

flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter. flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter, you kept repeating the ingredients to yourself, making sure you had enough of each one. flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter. oh- and cocoa powder. don’t forget the cocoa powder.

“oh, y/n.” your best friend leaned against her refrigerator, looking at you with weary eyes. she half heartedly gestured at the mess of ingredients you had laid across her kitchen counters. “why are you even doing this?”

her roomate chimed in from the next room where she was watching some movie, “yeah, we know cooking isn’t exactly your expertise.”

of course, they knew. everyone knew. you were self aware, you knew it better than anyone else. but this wasn’t cooking. it was baking. it was baking a birthday cake for christian so maybe this would prove easier than cooking?

you were going to bake it with love and whatever other bullshit people said, so this had to come out right, right?

“you know what you should do?” your friend was suddenly very serious. she took a step closer to you and fake whispered, “go get a store-bought cake that comes all prettily decorated. you just put it on a plate at home, put some candles and ta-da! it’s a beautiful homemade cake you made.”

you deadpanned, “are you being serious right now?”

“of course,” she waved you off. “i’ve done it plenty of times, people always fall for it.”

taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and point towards the door. “get out.”

“but this is my kitchen!” she half laughs, half protest.

“I know, I know,” you shake your head as you push her out of the room. giving her one last grateful smile as you shut the door, “and I really do appreciate you letting me borrow it but I seriously need to focus on this.”

yes, you had to find refuge in a different kitchen, no longer allowed in your own. after another cooking disaster, christian and yourself (mostly him) decided it was best to keep your time in the kitchen to a minimum.

“there’s only so many pots in the country,” he had teased as he tried scraping off the char. what? no one had told you making pancakes could be so hard!

it worked better for you, anyway. away from his prying eyes, you’d had free reign to practice all week long. you’re sure he’s grown suspicious of why you left every day for a few hours and came back smelling like you’d bathed in a tub of vanilla extract (you had spilled some on your clothes too many times to count). just yesterday, he had stopped you in the hallway and wiped some flour from your hair. when you saw him give you a curious glance, you leaned in to kiss him and led him straight to your bedroom. predictably, no questions had been asked after that.

with his strict diet and tough self discipline, christian didn’t indulge in sweets as often as would like. he stuck through rigorous training and healthy eating habits expected of him. his birthday cake was one of the few times of the year he let himself enjoy a sugary overload. therefore, you knew you couldn’t fuck this up for him. you had spent weeks scouring the internet for recipes and consulting with his mom on baking tips.

since his birthday fell on a monday this year, you’d planned to go out and celebrate with friends on the weekend. today was reserved for just the both of you. while he had a few hours of training, you were going to take advantage of the time to overcome the impossible and successfully bake an edible cake.

well, I have to start at some point, you chewed on your cheek. triple checking you had all the correct ingredients and measuring cups, your nerves got the best of you as you figured it was time to start.

you had settled on a simple chocolate cake- well the recipe seemed simple enough- and knowing of christians love for chocolate. hell bent on succeeding, you followed the instructions exactly as they were written and measured everything to the exact tablespoon.

all was going smoothly until it was time to add the designated two cups of sugar into the growing mixture. you hadn’t noticed you’d used up all your sugar during your trial runs. the recipe said not to stop stirring the batter, in fear that it would mess up the consistency. thus, you absentmindedly ventured into the cupboards in search of any sugar.

keeping your attention on stirring the batter, you reached for the unlabeled container of white grains?

aha! sugar!

once the batter was finished, you slathered the pan with butter and stuck it in the oven. moving onto making the chocolate buttercream frosting, you sprinkled more sugar from the container into it.

all too soon, the oven beeped and you rushed to take it out. surprisingly, it looked soft and spongy and like an actual, real cake. now more excited than ever, you covered it in the chocolate icing, trying to make it look as pretty as you could.

(the self restraint you had to not dip your finger into the bowl should be studied, truly.)

after thank yous and goodbyes and congratulations that you created something edible were said, you rushed back home in hopes of beating christian. making sure the house was still empty, you carefully take the cake out of the container and arrange it prettily on the counter. sticking a few candles into it, all there is left to do is wait for the birthday boy to come home.

soon enough, you hear the front door open and his footsteps advancing. he’s always had the knack of looking for you, of easily finding you. before you know it, his hands are on your hips and you feel soft lip brushes on your neck. it’s barely a mummer, “hey, you.”

“hey, birthday boy.” you turn around to face him. you cup his face, as he looks down at you fondly. his lovesick smile mirrors yours. it’s useless finding the urge to kiss him silly, thus you satiate yourself. rising to your tiptoes, your hands find themselves combing through his hair as your lips meet his. pulling away after a few moments, you can’t help but laugh when you see him try to follow you. you settle with leaving a trail of kisses all over his face and working your way down to his neck.

hearing him let out a content sigh, you find yourself settling your arms around his waist. mumbling into the crook of his neck, “you’re old.”

when he pouts and argues that he’s young, you retaliate and insist he’s reached grandpa status. this causes him to prove to you how young he is, by chasing you throughout the house. passing hallways and turning corners, the chase leads you both to the kitchen. where low and behold, a pretty chocolate cake sits with candles sticking out of it.

“oh,” upon seeing it, christian stops dead in his tracks. marveling at it, you see his eyes light up and he has the biggest grin on his face. stepping closer to inspect it, “is it from that new place down the street?”

that ‘new place’ was a bakery that had just opened up a few weeks ago. it’s a cozy, picture-perfect bakery that had cakes and pastries lined up along their windows. it’s the type of place where you’d have been able to get a professionally-made chocolate cake guaranteed to taste heavenly.

“uh, no.” you gave him a sheepish grin. feeling very shy, you’re beginning to regret even doing this. you’d been so happy about not fucking up the baking, you hadn’t considered how, maybe, christian would want a big, 5 star cake. you were just so proud of what you’d done! you hate to admit it but you had put love and all that bullshit into it. but, maybe, he did want a cake from an actual bakery. cheeks warming, “I actually made it.”

“y/n,” he whispers. it shouldn’t be physically possible but his smile got even bigger. he looked so handsome. reaching for your hands, he pulls you into his arms. looking down at you with the softest gaze, “you made this? for me?”

all you can do is nod. nerves overtaking your system, “I did, it might not even be that good, i’m sorry it’s not that pretty-”

he shuts you up when he leaves a kiss on each cheek and a few more on your forehead and nose. cupping your face, his thumb begins to stroke your cheek. you feel slightly silly over how fast you lean into his touch.

“oh baby, ‘m so proud of you.” his voice is too soft, and the look he’s giving you isn’t helping. your knees feel like jelly. he’s leaving kisses all over your face now, whispering ‘thank yous’ in between. “this is the best thing you could’ve done for me, thank you, my pretty girl.”

feeling the worry lift from your shoulders, you sigh in relief. solemnly nodding, “I was really careful, so it should taste decent.”

“I bet it’ll taste as great as it looks,” he dips down to leave a kiss on the corner of your mouth. that's when you see that particular glint in his eye. he goes in for another kiss, a deeper one. when he pulls away, the bastard bites your lip. there’s a teasing smile, “but I know it won't taste as sweet as you do.”

later that night, after dinner and gifts and intimate celebrating, you find yourselves seated at the counter.

yes, maybe it tasted like cardboard and the icing had a salty taste instead of sweet one (was the unlabeled container full of salt or sugar? you’re not that sure anymore.)

yes, maybe you both tried swallowing it and smiling through the torture your tastebuds were going through.

yes, maybe you lightly slapped his chest when he told you he felt bad for you guys’ future children. they’re going to think we hate them, he wheezed throughout the laughter.

yes, maybe you both were in hysterics over this bizarre situation and went out to buy a real, edible cake from the nearby bakery. and back home, when you lit a candle on it, you scolded him when he told you what he had wished for. he scooped some icing onto his index finger and smeared it on your cheek. then kissed the other, unaffected cheek. “for every year, to be exactly like this one. I want a salty cake for the rest of my life if it means you’re here.”

“hey!” you pouted. getting some icing yourself, you dragged it across his nose and curved it down to his upper lip. “the wishes don’t come true if you tell people, you know.”

he pondered this for a second, “well I was going to wish for you to get some cooking lessons but who would bake me a salty cake, huh?”

“haha,” you deadpan. leaving another kiss on his cheek, “you think you’re such a comedian, grandpa.”

i personally love a good birthday sheet cake from the grocery store. feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you!

[wolfpackss]

Can i request sam uley fluff and smut?

I love your writing btw🤭

Thank you! You just made my day!! I love Sam, he doesn’t get enough credit. I did my best, hope you enjoy! This got way too long by the way… and so sorry for the slightest bit of angst.

You never thought you would be in this position. You are not that girl, you never were. So how did you become her? The girl that stole your best friends boyfriend. You were the one she came to when their relationship fell apart, him claiming he fell out of love with her and they just weren’t right for each other. You were the one who confronted him the next day about his actions and got sucked into this fantasy type situation with wolves and vampires.

That was three months ago, you haven’t spoken to Leah since she caught you and Sam grocery shopping two weeks after they broke up. You wanted to tell her about you and Sam, you really did but something always came up and you just didn’t wanted to lose her to something that not you nor Sam had say in. You’re happy, happier than you thought you’d be when Sam told you he imprinted on you. You actually hated him at that point for breaking your best friend’s heart and forcefully taking yours. At least that’s what you told yourself. Because somewhere between the hate and the fear, you began falling for the alpha.

Two months ago you had your first date. Sam wanted to take you out to dinner at some fancy restaurant but something came up and it became a home cooked meal instead, which made the night even better. It didn’t take long before the conversation about Leah started and the nerves started showing. You explained your fears and doubts and he listened, answering every question you threw at him. He loved Leah, he still does. And I expect him to, she deserves that much. But that doesn’t mean he loves me any less. As the date comes to an end, he wraps you up in his arms and kisses your temple washing almost every doubt away.

One month ago you kissed him. You didn’t mean to, but he got hurt and you got worried so you did the first thing you could think off when he stepped through the front door. He wraps his arms around you as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. His tongue licking your bottom lip and you open your mouth hungrily. “I should get injured more if this is what I come home to” you don’t respond and claim his mouth with yours again. You’re just glad he’s okay, and safe in your arms.

And tonight you’re giving him your all. Every little thing that comes with you, your body, your soul and the tiny little piece of heart you got back. The talk you had with Sue made you realize that the feelings between me and Sam were always meant to be, we would always find a way to each other. If you couldn’t accept that then all of this would have been for nothing. Leah’s heartbreak, Sam’s imprinting, everything. You made your decision and now it’s time to show it.

You’re nuzzled into Sam’s side on the couch as he rubs his fingers up and down your arm. His other hand holding the remote and flipping through the stations. “Sam? Are you okay?” You glance up at him and he pulls you closer. “Yeah baby, Honestly? I’ve never been better” you lean up to kiss his cheek. “You make me happy Uley, you know that?” He looks down at you and you can see a smile forming on his face. His face brightens up and you immediately think about Sue’s words.

“Don’t let your insecurities ruin what may very well be your destiny”

You smile to yourself, it’s now or never. You turn around and face Sam who’s looking at you with his eyebrow raised. “Babe what are you doi-.”you cut him off by pressing your lips against his. Before Sam can begin to comprehend what you’re doing, you pull away. You smile sheepishly at him and run your fingers through your hair. You two stare at each other for a moment before the tension breaks. He claims your mouth with his, grabbing your hips to pull you closer to him, pulling you onto his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and grab his hair forcefully. You pull away. “Bedroom” you whisper against his lips. “Are you sure?” He pulls away to look at you and you can see the concerned look in his eyes. “Make me yours, alpha.”

The moment you stumble through the bedroom door, lips never leaving his, he grabs the globes of your ass and hoists you up. He pushes you against the door, grinding his hips into yours, making you feel his hardened length rubbing against your the front of your jeans. “Sam…” you moan into his mouth as he squeezes your ass and pulls away. “Off, everything off right now” he mumbles while pressing his forehead against yours. You comply, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your jeans and bra while he’s still holding you, almost trapped against the door. You reach behind you and clasp your bra open, letting it fall from your shoulders and off your body. Sam lets out a low growl and dips his head into the side of your neck, licking, kissing, biting every inch of skin he can reach. He drops you slowly to the floor before slowly unbuttoning your pants while his lips never leave your neck. Your hands grab at his arms, squeezing the muscles, your nails digging in his skin. He pushes your jeans of your hips and as you step out of them, you tug at his shorts, wanting them off. As his shorts fall down to his ankles, you pull his boxers down with it, grabbing his length and stroking it slowly. “Fuck.” Sam mumbles against your neck as his one hand slowly trails your body, stopping to pinch and twist your nipples while the other is slowly moving towards the inside of your thighs. “Babe, fuck.. you’re soaked” he rubs your clit through your soaked panties as you mewl and squeeze his cock. “Sam, I need you.. please baby please..” you whimper as he slides your panties down your legs and pushes two thick fingers inside you, hooking them to a spot that takes your breath away. “Need to stretch you out baby, you’re so fucking tight.” He growls into your ear, scissoring his fingers, opening you up. All to soon he pulls them out of you making you whine.

He hoists you up again and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks towards the bed with you in his arms. He lays you down and gently gets on top of you, letting his hard cock slide between your folds as the head nudges your clit. You let out a soft moan and nuzzle your face in his neck. “Please.” You both look at each other as he grips his cock, pumps it a few times and lines it up at your entrance. He slowly pushes in, you moan softly at the feeling of being filled. He stops to let you adjust to his size and as you give him a soft kiss on the lips to continue, he pulls out and pushes back in. “Please Sam, faster.” You claw at his back as his movements become more powerful and more intense. it’s not long before you can feel your walls tighten around him. Sam feels you tighten and brings his left hand to your clit, getting you closer to the edge. And when you finally get there, you let out the longest moan you’ve ever heard, coming from yourself. You can feel Sam’s cock throbbing through your orgasm, hear him growling in your ear and rubbing his nose up and down your neck.

“Mine!”

[manheimsmuse]

Hi Ivory 😊👋

So uhm, I don’t know, can I request something for ben plunkett, fluff please 😊

Maybe with a very shy reader. Well it takes place after the movie, if it's okay. Uhm the reader is at the same university as him and is smart and helped him in the lessons and he adores her because he thinks that she is cute. So he tries to talk to her more and then after some weeks they are getting friends very soon but they fell in love in each other but neither of them knows each other’s feelings.

One day he wanted to kiss the reder but got interrupted to kiss them 3 times. And one time he has finally the opportunity to do it.

So I just realized that I got carried away, I'm so sorry. But I thought it's cute 🙈

Thank you so much 😊

THIRD TIMES A CHARM ; BEN PLUNKETT

a/n ; i love that little dork ben so so much he means the world to me actually

warnings ; afab!reader, fem pronouns, fluff, no smut just cut because i go on too much, not edited or proofread yikes.

world history being an elective confused you, as a history major you couldn’t help but wonder why someone would subject themselves to this class by choice. it was mandatory for you, but there was about ten students from other majors that shared the class with you.

ben plunkett was one of these students, you actually don’t know why he took the elective, you assumed it was just to get extra credits on his degree because there was no way he was enjoying the class. you could tell in the way he zoned out in lectures, or worked on homework for other classes at the back of the room.

you weren’t all that surprised when he came to you for tutoring, your professor posted your grades on the class board to encourage ‘healthy competition’ and your name frequented the top of the list while ben’s floated somewhere along the middle.

tutoring ben was easy, he was smart enough to catch up on his own, that much was clear every time you asked him a question and he answered correctly without hesitation. why he needed the help was beyond you, but you did it anyway, you were enjoying it surprisingly.

the longer the two of you spent together the more obvious it became that you liked each other. you were quiet, not stupid, it didn’t need to be pointed out to you that ben liked you, whether or not he knew how obvious it was was another thing. you weren’t all that discreet either, though you’d never actually tell ben how you felt, unless of course he told you first.

meeting in the library quickly evolved into meeting at coffee shops, his usual ‘hey!’ replaced with a ‘you look really pretty today’ or ‘there’s my good luck charm’. coffee shops then evolved into dorm rooms the closer you got, half studying half just spending time together with the excuse of tutoring to mask any feelings that could slip through.

eventually ben asked you to come over to watch a movie, no mention of textbooks or homework, just you, him and his old macbook thrown on his bed to watch some movie he’d probably seen a million times before.

that was the first time he tried to kiss you.

his arm was lazily draped over your shoulders as you lay back together, eyes focused on the small screen and trying to ignore the way your stomach lurched every time his hand brushed against your arm. he’d leant in when you turned to ask him about the movie, and you were more than willing to let it happen, only for his roommate barging in unannounced to ask about leftover pizza in the kitchen.

the second time was in the library.

this time you were actually studying for a test, it wasn’t one of the big ones, just a mid semester exam to see how everyone was doing with the syllabus so far. usually you sat across from each other, but more recently you would occupy the seat next to ben, just to share a textbook of course.

“you look really pretty right now,” ben mumbles, face close to yours as you both lean over the same textbook, the two of you close enough that your foreheads could touch “oh, god, i didn’t mean to say that out loud. i mean - you do look pretty right now, you always look really pretty but-“

“ben, relax..” you giggle, already feeling the blush creeping across your face as you interrupted his anxious rambling “you look really pretty too.”

there’s a brief silence where you both find yourself leaning in again, only for bens phone to ring out loudly leaving him to scramble to silence the call from his best friend mandy.

the third time was at the campus bar.

your friends had invited you out to celebrate the end of finals, ben’s friend mandy had come up to visit him. instead of blowing one off for the other, ben simply merged the two and brought mandy along to meet the group.

the two of you didn’t get to talk much, between mandy talking his ear off as they caught up and your own conversations with you friends, you were both too preoccupied to fawn over each other.

“hey, come help?”

ben placed his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention as he passed, taking one for the team and offering to grab the next round.

he refused to let you pay for your own drink no matter how much you insisted, the pair of you shamelessly flirting now that you had a moment to yourselves.

it was a horrible sense of deja vu as you both leaned in, getting so close only to be stopped by mandy’s voice calling out to him from the table. something about someone wanting a different drink.

you shut your eyes to hide the eyeroll, missing how ben completely ignored mandy to bring his hand to the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss. an actual kiss.

“finally”

you accidentally mutter aloud when you separate, ignoring the jaw dropped stares coming from your table as you remain in each others personal space.

“you know what they say, third times a charm.”

[minzis]

When You Know

Art Credits: Cupid’s Kiss by Antonio Canova

•┈୨A Soap One-Shot୧┈•

♡Summary: You and Soap take one final trip together in a last ditch effort to rekindle your crumbling relationship.

♡Tags: sfw, Angst, 3.5k words.

♡A/N: This soap fic has been in my drafts for god knows how long but here it is! The song I mainly listened to while writing this was ‘Margaret’ by Lana Del Rey! Apologies for those who might have been waiting for this fic my last few months have been out the ass busy, I’ve recently moved along with getting sick as well but hopefully I’ll get to writing more :3

•┈୨♡୧┈•

The car hummed as Johnny continued the drive down the seemingly never ending road the occasional thumps from his finger tapping at the wheel. The same sound that’s been repetivte throughout the entire dreadful drive. Another huff fell from your lips as the sound slowly began to aggravate you once more.

He muffled a groan spilling another sorry you scoffed lightly, “Is that what you said to the girl you’ve been texting about not being able to meet up?” you muttered flipping through the magazine you picked up at the last pit stop. The reminders of the stupid texts you accidentally read when coming across his phone plaguing your mind. It meant nothing to him you knew it didn’t for him, but it did to her.

“Christ y/n how many times have I said it was nothing like that,” he rebutted his own annoyance growing. “Yeah I’m sure every girl trying to be friends constantly bombards you with an ensue of constant compliments, gifts, texts and calls.” You exclaimed sarcastically staring harshly at the magazine despite never actually looking at it.

“She said she didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah and I’m sure she feels the exact same about that statement.”

“Y/n-” he cut himself off letting out a deep sigh, “look I love you and only you I would never in my life run off with some other woman I barely know?!?” he responded glancing over at you briefly.

“I know,” you grumbled.

He smiled a bit towards the end, you rolled your eyes at the words as they hardly softened any worries you had. Your eyes fell on to the road making eye contact with deer in the middle of the road you barely managed to scream out the warnings.

“Oh my god deer, a deer?!” You yelled out throwing your hands up, the magazine flying out your hands as you pointed at the road. His head snapped forward narrowly swerving out the way of the deer before slamming on the breaks.

You exhaled exasperated hands firm on the dash as the seatbelt clung onto you, thankful for once about his adamant complaining about buckling up.

“Told ya seat belt.”

“Fuckin’ hell just watch the road,” you sighed leaning back in the seat face in your palms a deep sigh following after your motions. He chuckled slightly as you both gathered yourselves before he started driving again.

His fingers pulled at a cigarette from the pack. A quick flick to his lighter before placing the lit cigarette between his lips. He didn’t used to smoke before, you wondered when he started doing that but you stopped knowing a lot of the things about him. It made you think of all the things you were missing like the new wrinkle between his brows that was starting to form.

One that only appeared when you argued. It filled you bits of sadness as it seemed you two could never argue but now it seemed all you two could ever do. Thoughts of the days when us meant something, maybe that’s why he dragged you on this god forsaken trip. Some way it was a plead, an ask to try again before there was no fix for what was left of a deteriorating relationship. Of course you loved him probably more than yourself at this point, the man you knew like the back of your hand. You were sitting in the same car but it felt like you couldn’t be further apart.

“Fuckin hell,” you yelled out as the tent collapsed once more on you. You were already tired from the long drive but now this tent was going every which way but the right damn way. Johnny set off to the side in his chair simply watching the situation unfold with his feet propped up, a few snickers coming from his direction every now and then. You insisted you could do it yourself still upset from the conversation ealier. You tossed down one of the small pipes in frustration crouching down to your knees as you sigh in defeat.

You took a few breaths calming down a bit before looking back up at the mess of a tent you had long loss the instructions to, and not enough service to Google the manual. You glared over at Johnny as he smirked a bit, you groaned knowing he more then likely knew the instructions by heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if the man memorized them just so you’d be forced to ask for his help. You rubbed your face with your hands another sigh following before standing upright hesitantly making your way over to him.

“Help me,” you muttered folding your arms as you glanced around standing infront of him.

“Sorry what?”

“Can you help me?” You spoke slightly louder through gritted teeth.

“I can’t really hear you love?” He spoke with his same shit eating grin he had as he watched you struggle the past thirty damn minutes.

“I said can you help me, please,” you mustered out an annoyed please as his grin grew wide.

“Oh of course honey why didn’t you just say so!” He cooed, his amused tone far from hidden as he waltzed over to the chaos you had going on.

You sat down in his seat watching him leaning your head in your hand as he slowly pieced the tent together properly. He was muttering some silly jokes, probably teasing as he began hammering some stakes into the ground. Your eyes flicked over him playing the conversation in the car over in your head. You wanted to get over it but it was stuck in your head like some parasite.

You’d feel worse for not saying anything but even worse for saying something at all.

Surely he’ll be tired of hearing the same issue over and over again? What if he’d grown tired of you in general? Your eyes followed his moments as he continued building the tent, he briefly glanced over at you pausing as he stood up right. He dusted his hands off on his pants walking over and bending down in front of you.

He stared at you for a moment watching your flickering expressions, “baby what’s wrong?” He asked with a slight laugh in his voice but mostly of concern as he grabbed one of your hands rubbing the back of it with his thumb. His soft reassuring smile nearly already had you crying as you sniffled. You shrugged wiping the stray tear as he left out a sigh kissing the palm of your hand, “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.” He whispered softly folding your hand in his as he waited for your response, patiently as always.

“It’s nothing I swear,” you muttered curtly staring down at your hands. You briefly looked up at him and he looked obviously upset, your heart immediately sunk regretting every word you had spoken. Surely he’s upset now, if you had just happily accepted his help he wouldn’t be upset. You should’ve just kept quiet about it to begin with.

“If you want me to leave tell me,” he sounded broken like he was at his wits ends of what to do, what more would make you happy. “Tell me to anything ‘n I’ll do it, tell me to go or apologize give me a list…please.”

“Just tell me whatever you wish and I’ll do it.”

You shook your heading shrugging unsure what to say, “I don’t know.” Your eyes focused on his as you wondered why you were so angry with him. Why were you upset? When any problematic situation arose the only common denominator you could find was you and yet he still asked if he had done something wrong.

“Baby I can’t help you if you don’t tell me anything,” his voice was soft his hand reaching to cup your face. He nodded, gently pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry for being mean,” you spoke head resting against his chest.

“I wasn’t angry with you I was angry with myself, You were just the outlet I took it out on,” you added on as his hands raked through your hair.

“I know love, I know,” the words almost made you sob he was being so patient and you had nothing to say or give for it.

“I just thought one day you’d change your mind about loving me like I tricked you into it or something,” you chuckled lightly eyes watering as you began emptying all the thoughts.

“You’re too good, it’s more than I’ll ever deserve.”

It felt terrible as if it had been wrong to feel this way. He was as perfect as any man could get and here you were finding issue after issue. His face looked shocked and heartbroken at the revelation, “you’re so friendly open you could probably have any woman you want with no problem. A better woman.”

“But I already have the one I want,” he softly replied with a reassuring tone. “I know you love me and I love you too, I just can’t help this terrible persistent feeling I’d lose it one day, lose you.” You trailed off the beating of his heart echoing in your ears companied by the sounds of his breathing.

“Just ask me then,” he spoke abruptly. “If I have to say I love you a hundred times for you to feel better I’ll do it, all you have to do is ask.” He kissed at the top of your head as you wiped at your tears nodding appreciatively.

“I missed you love.”

“I missed you too.”

The rest of the trip felt absolutely amazing, you’d never have considered enjoying nature as much as you do now. The tall trees lining every direction you looked. The unkempt grass with wild flowers and weeds mixed it. It was truly stunning no matter where you chose to look. None of it felt real, the view was simply stunning.

“I see why you dragged me out here now,” you laughed looking towards Johnny’s direction as he walked beside you.

“Yeah despite all your complaints about how ‘I’m not doing anything that requires more than the bare minimum,’ if I recall that correctly?” He spoke with a smug tone raising an eyebrow.

“Okay well to be fair the campsite you originally showed me looked like shit.”

“Have you never heard of a surprise?”

“No I haven’t,” you replied sarcastically turing your nose upward and he let out a laugh pinching one of your cheeks. “Stubborn as always,” he muttered as he continued down the trail.

You looked over him admiring him for a moment. “Thank you,” you spoke suddenly as he turned around understandably confused.

“For what?”

“For being with me, just for everything really,” you smiled softly as he immediately pulled you into a tight hug. He pulled away feeling your forehead, “well you aren’t sick thought someone might’ve taken over your body for a second.” He stared you down suspiciously as you giggled.

“Oh absolutely, I’m an ailen and I shall taken you back to my people on Mars!” You exclaimed as he looked at you in shock.

“Ah I knew it was too good to be true!”

You probably missed this more than anything, the small moments with him. That made you feel like a mischievous child being with him and feeling like this made it all worth it. Worth any deal of pain if it meant a moments like this. They always say it’s the little things right?

But this moment wasn’t little it was damn dear the most important event in your life up to now as Johnny knelt down on one knee. A ring-box in hand your birthstone reflecting the moonlight with a light sparkle. You felt stupid falling for his dumb trick of pointing out something in the sky that wasn’t even there. Of course you looked back confused ready to bombard him with questions but there he was on one knee.

You felt a mixture of emotions wash over you all at once, you were already crying and he hadn’t even started speaking yet. Your hands moving rapidly wiping at your never ending tears. This was more than enough proof you’d ever need. What would there be to debate when the ring would be a light in the darkness to guide you.

“I didn’t fall in love you at first sight, I fell in the with you the moment you told me I was worth it. Worth the pain, the sorrow but also the joy, the laughter and for the love. You were the one who built me back up even when I couldn’t do it myself so will you give me the greatest honor and privilege to marry you and spend the rest of our lives together?”

Maybe it was then under the moonlight and stars that you knew, knew by the tone in his voice from the stumble in his step to the light that lit up his face as he knelt on one knee. That no fight or argument would be enough to take that away. Not your love and not his because you just knew how much you love and would love him for the rest of your life.

“Com’n now lass my knees ain’t what they used to be,” a laughter echoed from you through shining tears of joy that told him of your love. A love he hoped to see in the messes of chaos your future children would leave. Like the breath of fresh air in the cold night to the crackle of the fire. Glimmer of the moonlight in his bright eyes that spoke of a million ways how he could love you just right, in a soft whisper you spoke, “Yes I will.”

“Good thing you said yes.”

“Why?”

“Cause that uppercut from the ground would’ve knocked you on yer ass.”

“Is it too late to say no?”

“Yes Miss MacTavish it is you’re stuck with me till death do us part,” a childish laugh escaped from him as he threw an arm around you tugging you into a hug. Despite the amount of times the man had hugged you it felt just like the first time after your first date a nice blissful comfort, as if you just knew he was the one.

The hug was only seconds yet felt as if it was the first time someone truly hugged you, wanted you and you alone. Despite the darkening night sky you still held onto his hand subconsciously not wanting him to leave yet. You smiled at him hesitantly releasing his hand taking a step back, “so..” You trailed fiddling with your hands as you glanced over his eyes.

“Let me buy you a drink?” He spoke softly returning the smile as you nodded excitedly, “absolutely!” And like that one date turned into dozens before you knew it he was moving in.

He huffed from beside you drawing you out of your thoughts as he stood up in-front of you his hand outstretched towards you. “Would you like to dance?” you looked at him confused staring at his hand before back up at him.

“I don’t know how to dance?”

“I can teach you.”

“There’s no music?”

“Then we’ll sing.”

He always had an answer whenever you were in doubt. If he had said you could concur the world you’d whole heartedly believe him. He spoke with passion and emotion you hadn’t felt before that showed he meant every word. He’s always believe in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. But that’s just who Johnny is, optimistic to a point you’d almost call him stupid for it. The world needed more people like him, gentle and kind with a warmth that made everything feel okay.

As if it would always be okay.

He insisted on dancing under the midnight sky his eyes reflecting a brightness only the angels get to gleam. You would’ve felt embarrassed from your terrible skills but he was just as awful as you possibly even worse. You couldn’t help the laughter as you teased him for his idea when he couldn’t even dance himself.

His arm outstretched to spin you around before taking you in his arms aiming for a dip but he trampled on his own feet tumbling you both right over. He flopped right onto you as the laughter only grew. His laughing died down as he stared at your smiling face as you giggled.

“What?” you asked out of breath.

He is what beauty feels like, pure unfiltered beauty and it’s exactly what he calls you beautiful. He’d say it with every ounce of his being without a hindrance of dismay.

“God damn you’re so beautiful,” he kissed at the top of your nose with that childish smile of his.

“I love you too Johnny.”

It had been a few weeks since the trip. You hummed mindlessly preparing your usual pick-me-up box for Johnny. You’d been excited for weeks to send it as you held the positive pregnancy test in your hand. It took everything in you not to spill the beans but held out waiting a few weeks to be sure it was still positive.

You wondered who the baby would resemble, though you already wished they would resemble Johnny. Hoping they would take after him and his kidness take every good thing you two would have to offer and become the best version of either of you. He’ll be a wonderful father that much you knew for sure.

If they are loved what else could possibly matter?

You couldn’t wait for the excited call you’d receive as he would probably insist on coming home immediately to prepare the baby’s room. Even already bought a cute baby crib you two could build together since he’d more than likely insist you’d have to sit it out but just watching him didn’t seem all that bad.

“You’re carrying for two now not just one anymore,” he’d probably say and the thought already had you smiling. You remember off handedly asking him if he’d ever want kids one late night in bed. His face scrunched up in thought before his playful smile grew, “if it’s with you I’d have at least fifteen.”

You snorted punching at his chest, “In your damn dreams Mr. MacTavish, we’ll have maybe two at most and have a nice house by the seaside.” You continued rambling endlessly about the cute family you two would have someday as he simply smiled and hummed in agreement at every word.

The phone rung a bit before your usual call time, almost deciding to ignoring the call seeing the random number but the first few numbers looked familiar. You picked up the phone the familiarity of Price’s voice filled your ears. You smiled instinctively, “Price it’s been awhile!” A light laugh exited from you as he took a deep breath following a pause.

“Is something wrong?” you asked another long pause as he groaned lightly.

When you know, you know like the feelings that reside deep in your gut. The ones you can’t shake no matter how hard. Not when you feeling with ever fiber of your being so much so it consumes you. Not when it fills your veins almost already telling you the truth and you just know.

“I’m sorry but Johnny didn’t make it, he was K.I.A,” you almost asked for him to clarify like he was playing a horribly stupid joke but Price never joked not like this. A strong wave of nausea over came you as you softly spoke gagging at the words you could hardly bare to form.

“My Johnny?”

He stifled a yes before an ensue of apologies and everything people say when someone dies. Someone else not Johnny because he said he’d come home. He promised didn’t he? So why wasn’t he here? Not your Johnny it couldn’t be because he said he’d make it back. Things like this happen to other people they don’t happen to him because he’s good and kind so of course it couldn’t be him, right?

His smile, his voice, even just his presence a feeling you’d never get to feel again. What did you even say to him last? Had it been enough to convey how deeply in love with him you were? Did he know how much you loved him? Your hands shook as you long dropped the phone. Your hands threw the box off the counter the items scattering along the ground.

And you screamed eyes watering as an awful overwhelming feeling of dread washed through you, you didn’t just cry, you wailed. Wailed for him to come back or some form of explanation as to why. Why did it have to be him when it could’ve been anyone else. The grief wasn’t just emotional it was physical like your entire body was responding to the gaping hole left behind by its missing piece.

A piece of you that you’ll never be able to get back.

[pawnshopbleus]

Miller's Girl

Chapter Two - Professor Miller

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

Authors Note - Sorry for the late update. My mom took my computer away and I physically cannot write on my phone.

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

Joel had been looking for a new babysitter ever since the last one had left. She was an older lady who had lost her husband in the Vietnam War. Joel respected her until she quit unexpectedly the Saturday evening before Joel had a big dinner with the president of the university. He had to beg Tommy and Maria to watch Sarah for the night.

You were the first person that caught his eye on the website. Your experience was subpar and your bio was brief but it contained just enough detail to get him interested. When he scrolled to see what else you did outside of babysitting, his smile fell from his face. You were a student and not just any student. You were a student at the university he taught at. He didn’t want to risk his employment for a simple babysitter so he kept scrolling. Each profile after yours looked plain and simple, something he didn’t like. No one seemed qualified enough to take care of his beloved Sarah except you.

His email to you was like your bio, brief but it contained just enough detail. He signed his name at the bottom and prayed that his position didn’t scare you away. He needed you to agree to this. You were perfect for the job. You were young and could connect with Sarah more than the last babysitter did. Judging from your bio, you were also smart. You seemed like a great role model for Sarah.

Your response came an hour later. Joel chewed on his bottom lip in anticipation of what the email would say. He let out a sigh of relief when you agreed to become Sarah’s babysitter.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

One word that you would use to describe yourself would be unlucky. You were sure that whoever worked high up in the sky had it out for you.

Your counselor called you into his office early Saturday morning to discuss your future after college. You told him that you hoped to become an interior designer once you graduate. He then asked why you didn’t major in interior design instead of architecture. You then told him that he should have asked you this when you were a freshman. You could tell that your counselor wanted to roll his eyes but he kept his composure. He clicked and scrolled away on his computer while you sat there in silence.

“You’re ten credits under the required amount to graduate,” your counselor said.

“What?” The scream you let out contrasted the monotone voice your counselor spoke in.

Your counselor let out a breath through his nose. “Look, you can either graduate next year or you can take another required class for your major.”

“But I thought that I completed all the required classes for my major? It’s the middle of the first semester and I’m pretty sure all the classes are full.”

“There’s one class open with two seats left. I can put you in that class and you’ll start on Monday. You’ll have to catch up on work but i’m pretty sure you’ll be fine.” Your counselor looks you up and down and continues, “You don’t seem like the type to get out much.”

Your left eye twitched at the comment. It was true, but he had no right to say that. You could report him to his superiors but that would be too much paperwork.

“Who teaches the class?” you asked. You hoped that at least the teacher was nice. Maybe they would be a little bit nicer than the asshole in charge of your future at this school.

“Professor Miller.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

Mondays were never Joel’s favorite time of the week. Sarah had soccer on Mondays and Fridays which meant that he had to get up extra early to pack her bags. The last time she packed her own bag, she forgot her ball and her cleats. When the babysitter starts everything will be a lot easier for him.

A new student has just been added to his roster. Never in his twenty-five years of teaching has a student been added to his class in the middle of the semester. Just another paper to read and another packet of homework to grade. This is exactly what he needed! It’s not like he didn’t have a twelve-year-old daughter to raise all by himself.

The campus is stunningly beautiful in the mornings. The sun shines on the trees and grass, illuminating the green blades and leaves. The school spends a lot of money on its campus. They pride themselves on having one of the prettiest campuses in all of Texas.

Joel’s lecture room isn’t too far from where he parked. It’s nice outside. The October breeze sweeps his hair back and he has to smooth it down with his hands. The brown messenger bag slung around his shoulders dangles and hits against his outer thigh as he walks. Contrary to popular belief, Joel isn’t mean or rude. He’s just a simple man who prefers to have a little privacy once in a while. He is also tough on his students because he wants them to succeed. Professors who are “easy” get on his nerves. They crave the respect of their students rather than earning it. Joel has worked too damn long and hard to care about what his students think about him.

His lecture room is cold. Not the usual sixty degrees he likes to keep it at, but more like a chilly forty degrees. He can see his breath flow out in front of him like a ghost. He knows that his students hate being in a cold classroom, but none of them are brave enough to tell him what to do.

Students start pouring in and sitting in their usual seats. They can immediately tell the temperature difference. They hug their arms closer and rock their bodies, trying to preserve warmth.

The small hand of the clock hovers over the number nine and Joel walks over to the door getting ready to lock it. Just as his hand hovers over the knob, the door is thrown open and Joel stumbles back.

You enter the classroom, eyes wide. You look around at the vast array of students already sitting down in their seats. They all look at you with a look of horror. You don’t understand why they are looking at you like that until you turn around.

Professor Miller is standing at his full height, his arms are crossed, and he looks like he’s about to explode with anger. Then, he sees your face and realizes who you are. He must have recognized you from the website because his shoulders relax and he nods his head to the sea of students, prompting you to sit down.

The only seat open is in the back of the room. You walk through the sea of students all looking at you. Some look at you with a look of sympathy while others look at you with disgust.

You make yourself as small as possible when you reach your seat. Once you reach inside your bag, you realize that you have forgotten your laptop on your bed. No wonder your bag felt lighter today than it usually does.

You pull a pen and paper out of your bag and begin scribbling as much information as you can. Your usual neat handwriting looks more like chicken scratch as you try and copy down information thrown at you by Professor Miller. It would have been a lot easier if he talked a little slower.

Two hours have flown by and students practically skip out of the class, happy to escape the cold. Thanks to your seat being in the back, you were one of the last people to get to the door. Before you can exit, Professor Miller stands in front of you, his arms crossed once again.

“This was strike number one,” he said. You gulped and opened your mouth to explain yourself, but he put his hand up. Your mouth closed shut and you nodded your head.

The rest of the day, you walked with your head held low. It wasn’t until you got back to your apartment that you finally felt better. Being home meant that there wouldn’t be anyone there to judge you or give you dirty looks.

You flopped onto your bed. Bill went up in the air and fell back down onto the bed. Bill could sense your distress, so he curled up next you and the two of you fell asleep.